“Thank you,” she said. “For showing me.”
He grinned, nodding at her other hand, which was still on his damaged leg. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
She smiled. “It does.”
“Maybe we should just sit here and fondle each other’s injuries for the rest of the day. What do you think?”
She laughed then, a sparkly laugh that seemed to light up the night. “I think that’s a great idea. The world can save itself, don’t you think?”
“Shit, I wish it could.”
Her smile faded, and her eyes became heavy with wisdom. “I’m sorry you had to kill your father.”
He was startled by her comment. He would have expected her to condemn him for it. Good sons didn’t murder their fathers. “You understand?”
She shrugged, still touching his leg, as if she were getting as much comfort from it as he was, which he understood, because he was happy as hell to be running his fingers down her arm. He’d never felt skin so soft in his life, and he hadn’t been lying when he said he’d be down with just parking his ass on the ground with her and not moving again. He was tired of all the crap. He was tired of watching so many people die. He was just tired. “My mother is the queen of darkness,” she said simply. “I understand about parents who hurt their children.”
“I wish you didn’t.” Dante grasped her wrist and tugged her against him. She came willingly, sliding into his arms as if she’d been waiting for him to reach for her. Outside the realm of their little cocoon, he could feel the sword still calling to him, but with Elisha tucked up against him, it couldn’t control him. He knew they had to make decisions and take action, but being in Elisha’s arms gave him a respite to clear his head and focus, and he needed that right now.
He kissed the top of her head, knowing that reality was too damn close. “How long until I die?”
“I don’t know. We never know, do we?”
He laughed at her philosophical answer. “I was looking for something a little more specific, given the rate at which my leg is decaying.”
“It’s a bad one,” she said simply. “Very bad.” She propped her elbow on his chest so she could look at him. Her brow was furrowed with worry. “How would your father have gotten access to my mother’s curses? What was he like?”
“What was he like? Shit, that’s a story.”
“I need to know. If my mother has found a way to contaminate the earth…” Fear flickered in her eyes. “Dante, we need to know. The sword I understand, but if she has other tentacles, the situation could be more critical.” Fear tightened her voice, and he instinctively wrapped his arms more tightly around her, pulling her into his embrace. Even as he did so, he reached out with his preternatural senses, assessing their surroundings. No longer was he searching simply for the threat of another being. He was looking for that dark, sinister energy that he knew all too well, the one that had bled from his father as he’d watched him die.
Shit. He didn’t want to talk about this father. The bastard was dead and needed to be cast aside. But Elisha was right. They needed to know what the situation was. They needed to know if there was more of the same coming after them. He took a deep breath and pulled Elisha closer, as if her presence could block the poison of memories long past while he dredged up the memories of who his father had been. “One hundred and ten years ago, I had my dream,” he told her, trailing his fingers through her hair, recalling the story that best exemplified his father. “The one in which a young Calydon has a battle with death in his sleep. If he triumphs, he awakens with his brands and becomes a Calydon. If he fails, he dies in his sleep.”
Elisha frowned, her forehead puckering. “I take it you survived.”
“I did.” He kissed her wrinkles away as he spoke, somehow needing to touch her, to get respite from his words. “I awoke to find my father’s dagger in my chest, hilt-deep.”
Elisha gasped and sat up, staring at him. “He tried to murder you when you survived the dream?”
Her outrage on his behalf made something in his chest shift, like a knife that had been lodged in there for so long had suddenly begun to work itself free. “He wanted to make sure I was tough enough to be Order. Surviving the dream wasn’t enough. I had to survive him. He’d had one son before me, a warrior with great potential who hadn’t survived his dream. My father was the only Order member who hadn’t sired a son who’d made it into the Order, and it made him crazed. He wanted to make sure I was tough enough, so he started training me when I was five.” If one could classify the abuse he’d taken as training.
Elisha was staring at him, her hand over her heart, as if she could feel the blade that his father had shoved into his chest. “What did you do after he stabbed you?”
“Fought him.” He shrugged. “I didn’t win. He was going to kill me for being too weak to defeat him, but another Calydon named Louis intervened.” Louis had been only three years older than him, still young enough to think for himself. “My father was impressed that I had attracted a powerful ally, so he decided to let me live and induct me into the Order.” He stared at the night sky, remembering that hell. “My first task was to lead the team into a nearby village and rape six women. I was supposed to go back in five years and see if I’d spawned any boys so we could take them and train them.”
Elisha shook her head in denial of his words. “You didn’t do that, did you? I know you didn’t.”
“No. I left.” He would never forget that moment that he walked away. Or, rather, dragged himself away. Once his father had realized Dante was leaving, he’d attacked. It had been brutal, leaving Dante crawling across the ground, his life bleeding out with each passing second. “He tried to cut my weapons out of my flesh, and my heart out of my body. He said I didn’t deserve to be a Calydon. He thought he’d killed me, and left me for dead.”
Tears burned in Elisha’s eyes, tears so stark with grief that he knew that his story was reminding her of her own life, of her own mother. “Parents shouldn’t hurt their children,” she whispered.
“No, they shouldn’t.” He hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe that’s why your mom and my dad decided to work together. They had so much in common.”
Elisha shook her head, as if to clear the thoughts of their parents from her mind. “You didn’t die,” she said, pulling their focus back to his story and away from her own nightmares.
“No, I’m not that agreeable.” He remembered how he’d sprawled in that dirt for days, fading in and out of the Calydon healing sleep. “There was a light. A golden light—”
Her eyes widened, and she sat up again, watching him with an expression of awe on her face. “An angel came to help you?”
“Maybe.” He felt weird admitting that he’d been rescued by an angel. It felt like his own secret, a whisper that had been shared only with him. He’d never told anyone, not until that moment, but it felt right to share it with Elisha. He remembered that feeling of impotence after his father’s attack. He’d been unable to fight, to stand, and he’d known he’d been dying, until that light had come. “I never saw the person with the light, but I sensed a woman. An angel, I’m sure of it.”
Elisha smiled. “I’m so glad she came for you. How can you say that you’re not a good man? Angels don’t give their golden light to those who are undeserving.”
He shrugged, not wanting to delude himself that he had some higher purpose in this world. “Well, the angel saved my life, but even with her help, it took me almost a month to recover from what he did to me.” He’d managed to crawl away, finally, and then…
He stopped, that scene screaming before his eyes again, that moment when the hell he’d left behind came crashing back. “I was wandering aimlessly after that. I had no focus. Then, a few months later, I was in a village, and I saw one of the team raping a woman in the middle of the square. I knew my father had sent him. I lost all discipline and control when I saw him with her. I couldn’t allow it to happen anymore.”
Elisha’s eyes flashed in anger at his father. “What happened?”
Dante laughed bitterly. “Then things got bad.” That was when he learned what hell really was. That was when he changed from a rebellious kid to a man with one mission. That was when he’d made his choice. That was when he’d crossed the line and become the killer his father had always wanted him to be.
Chapter Seven
Elisha felt the tension churn through Dante, and she sat up. His face was dark with swirling emotions, his fists clenched. His father had tried to murder him twice, and that wasn’t the bad part? A cold chill ran through her at the idea of what it must have felt like to wake up with his father’s dagger in his chest. The betrayal by a parent was like a bleeding wound that never healed, no matter what. She knew that, because she lived it every day. Was it any wonder that she’d connected with Dante so completely from the first moment? They were the same. She didn’t have to hear the rest of Dante’s story to know that he’d stopped the Order member from raping that woman. She knew that he had, no matter what the cost. It was what came after that had shaped him. “What happened after you killed him?”
Dante leaned forward, his arms draped over his knees as he sat hunched over, like he could ward off the memories through his stance. He laughed bitterly. “It turned out that the woman was the daughter of a king who had paid the bastard to rape her.”
A cold sweat broke out on Elisha’s shoulders and trickled down her back. “Why?” she whispered. “Why do parents do that to their daughters?” She couldn’t keep the pain out of her voice, and she couldn’t hide the trembling of her hands. Memories flashed through her mind, memories she tried so hard never to acknowledge. Hands that hurt. Dark rooms. Chains. Fear beyond what words could ever express.
Dante turned sharply to look at her, and then his face softened. “Your mother handed you off like that, didn’t she?”
Elisha nodded once, her throat too tight to speak.
“Jesus.” Dante’s face turned ashen, and he pulled her into his arms. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He just held her, and she buried herself against his strong bulk. She knew it didn’t make sense, but somehow, being in Dante’s arms made her feel like all the terrible things in her life had happened to someone else. It was as if he gave her the strength to put up a shield between herself and her life, and to strip it of the power to hurt her. “Someday,” he said quietly, his breath warm and comforting against her skin, “I’m going to kill your mother for you.”
His casual tone evoked a strangled laugh from her, and she looked up at him. “You’re a good man.”
“Nope.” His voice was calm, but there was a deadly edge to it that made chills run down her arms. “I’m a vicious, bloodthirsty bastard, and I’m very much looking forward to the day that I watch your mother’s head roll across the floor.”
She had to laugh this time, such dangerous words spoken with such casualness. He was so matter-of-fact, but at the same time, she knew he meant it. And honestly, she appreciated it. No man had ever been bold enough to consider killing her mother. It was definitely the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. “Thank you. That’s very heroic of you.”
He met her gaze. “I’m deadly serious. It might not be until after I’m dead, but I’ll make it happen.” His face darkened, and sudden heat seemed to burn from the brands on his forearms. “And the men who hurt you, too. Every last one of them will know what it’s like to suffer before he dies. I promise you that.”
Her throat tightened, and she nodded, words suddenly sticking in her throat. She’d never had an ally before, and it was really beautiful. She didn’t believe in hurting others, in revenge, in retribution, but she couldn’t deny that Dante’s words sounded so beautiful to her. He made her feel like she didn’t have to be afraid, like those who had hurt her were not inviolable, that maybe she didn’t have to be the victim anymore, even if it was simply in her own mind and her own memories. “You’re going to make me cry. No one has ever offered to kill for me before. It’s really sweet.” She couldn’t keep the tears out of her voice. God, was she pathetic or what? One sincere offer to murder on her behalf and she got all weepy?
A slow, half-grin crept across Dante’s face. “Well, hey, if I’m going to run around killing people, I might as well include a few that deserve it, huh?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Unless you want the honor? I’m happy to set it up for you and let you deal the final blow.”
Elisha had a momentary vision of the people who had hurt her sprawled across the ground, and she shuddered. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t do that.”
“Then I will. People who hurt women and innocents don’t deserve second chances.” The edge was back in his voice, and she knew that he was thinking of that night so long ago when he’d killed to save that girl his former teammate was trying to rape.
She wanted to hear a happy ending. She wanted to hear about a girl who got away. “What happened to the girl? Did you stop him in time?” She couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice, and Dante took her hand in his.
“Sweetheart, she was okay. I got there in time, and I will always get there in time for you, too. Okay?”
Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. “You saved her.” A girl had been protected from that fate. Maybe it was one woman, one time, but it gave her hope. “Why would her father do that to her? I don’t understand.”
Dante snorted in disgust as he ran his hand down her arm, a gesture that eased some of the tension from her. “He’d allied with my father to create a well-funded Order. My father wanted some good lineage and money, and the king wanted a grandson who was as powerful as an Order member. Together, they figured they could spawn an entire army, and they were both pissed as hell at me. Since I wasn’t agreeable enough to die once they caught me, the king had me thrown into a pit of hell. My father helped him do it.”
A pit of hell? The tension in his voice pricked a memory in Elisha’s mind, a rumor that she’d heard many years ago about the one place on earth that was almost as bad as the world she grew up in. But it couldn’t be. Not for Dante. “Not…Orion’s Pit? That’s not what you were in, was it?”
His eyebrows went up. “You’ve heard of it?”
A cold chill rippled over her. “Yes.” Dear God, she’d heard about that pit. Two hundred feet deep, and eighty feet wide at the base. The only sunlight and water that penetrated was that which filtered through a large grate at the top. Anyone or any otherworld creature who displeased the king was thrown in there, fully armed, into a brutal world where the only food was the bodies of the other prisoners. It was a fight to survive, every minute of every day. Her mother had idolized it and created her own imitation of it, just because she was so inspired by it. Elisha would never forget the screams of the people trapped inside, or the scent of death and carnage that constantly emanated from it…and Dante had lived it. “That’s where you were? How long were you there?”
“One hundred years.”
Her hand went to her mouth in shock. “Oh, God.” What had he been forced to do to survive all that time? “Dante, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah.” Dante shifted restlessly and flexed his hands, which she suddenly noticed had scars across the backs of them. Instinctively, she clasped his hands in hers, and he immediately closed his fingers around hers. He leaned forward, searching her face with tormented eyes, as if by sharing his past with her he could make it go away. “I saw shit that I had never even realized existed, Elisha. I learned to kill without remorse or hesitation. I learned to stand over the body of another living creature and watch its life bleed from its mangled body. I learned how to go weeks without ever going to sleep. I saw how truly bad men could be, but I also realized that there was one big difference between my father and all the murderers in that pit: my father had a choice not to be like that, and he did it anyway. These men were brutal, but they were doing it to survive. It was in that pit that I realized the full depths of how bad the Order of the Blade had become.”
She wanted to cry for him, her heart breaking for what he must have lived through, for the lessons he had learned in that hell. Orion’s pit had turned a gallant, idealistic youth into a warrior beyond his endurance and comprehension, a man with a mission. No wonder the sword had chosen him. No wonder he’d been able to let go of it. No wonder he had become the man he now was. “How did you survive?”
“A warrior named Rohan was dropped in there the same day I was. He and I both wanted to live, and we had no other allies.” He grinned, but there was no laughter in his eyes. “Without each other, we both would have died.” This time, a faint hint of warmth softened his eyes. “Rohan taught me the value of having one person at your back who you could trust at all times.”
She managed a smile, her heart warming for this warrior she’d never met. She knew what it was like to have one person to count on. She’d had her faerie. Dante had found Rohan. “Well, I’ll have to meet Rohan someday and thank him for keeping you alive.”
“It was a mutual effort,” he said. “I don’t think Rohan would have stood by me unless I gave him as much as he gave me. We needed each other.” He stared up at the sky, and she followed his glance.
The night was full of stars, stars that she knew he hadn’t been able to see while trapped, stars she’d never seen until she’d escaped from the queen’s darkness. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They’re freedom,” he agreed. “I never thought I’d see them again. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life in there. Rohan is a good man, but I have to admit, it got old sleeping with him every night.”
“I imagine it did.” She leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder, drained by their discussion. She felt like she’d relived her own nightmares and experienced the pit with him. How could they both have lived such darkness, only to find each other and this moment? “How did you get out?” No one ever got out. They stayed in there until they died. To survive for one hundred years was incredible. To escape was impossible. And yet he’d done both.
Inferno of Darkness (Order of the Blade) Page 8
