“You have never been my lover,” she spat.
“Are you sure?” Before her eyes, his skin smoothed out, darkened. His hair grew, thick and black, glossy like silk. Beautiful brown eyes appeared in those fathomless holes.
Soon, beautiful Micah stood before her. Nearly identical to Amun, but without the sizzle of awareness.
“No,” she said, shaking her head violently. “No!” She would have known. Would have sensed. There would have been a clue. Something, anything. Right? Like the fact that he’d gotten it wrong. She and Micah had never been lovers. Not really.
He wasn’t the Micah you were with, sweetheart. Amun’s voice soothed her rising disgust.
“Yes,” Hate said. “I know you better than you know yourself, and knew you wanted this face. Therefore I gave you this face.”
He’s lying, I swear to you. But keep him talking. My demon is still rooting through his head and we’re close, so close to discovering how to defeat him.
“How did you find me?” she growled.
Hate glared at her, but he said, “The phone call, how else? Once I locked onto your voice, it was only a matter of hours before I found you, wherever you happened to be. I admit, I didn’t expect to find you here, reeking of another demon.”
“So how do you have Micah’s face? How long have you been Micah? Where is the real Micah?”
Familiar lips curled into a smile. “Perhaps I was your Micah all along.”
No, Amun said. He became Micah a few days after Strider grabbed you.
Was Secrets revealing the truth to him? Because she believed Amun. Always. Which meant she hadn’t kissed this creature, hadn’t completed missions with this creature. Only Micah. Her relief was palpable. “And now the human is…?”
“Dead? Yes. I killed him. And do you know what? While he lay dying, I showed him your face.” For a split second, she saw her own face staring over at her. Then he returned to Micah’s image. “I told him how much you despised him.”
That is the truth. I’m sorry.
Dead. Micah was dead. And he’d been killed so cruelly, thinking she loathed him. Even though she had never truly loved Micah, she found that she mourned his loss. He’d had many flaws, but he had fought for what he’d believed in.
“Have you nothing more to say, dead Haidee, before I kill this warrior, too? And I will, you know. I will force you to watch—unless you give me what I seek. Now, now, now.”
He would, too, which meant they’d run out of time. Her gaze shot to Amun. Have you learned the way to kill him without fighting him yet? Please, please, please.
A muscle jumped in Amun’s jaw, and several seconds ticked away. No.
That hesitation… He was lying. And suddenly, even without touching him, she knew what he was keeping from her, what he’d tried so hard to prevent, so desperate to find another way. And she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. Removing his demon completely will kill him the same way it would kill you. Won’t it?
His head whipped in her direction, his eyes giving the briefest flare before he refocused on Hate. Haidee. You cannot do that. Because there are only two possible outcomes. You’ll be stuck with all of Hate, perhaps losing yourself to him, or, when Hate is finally put back together, you’ll expunge him and die.
I don’t care. If I die, I’ll come back.
And I don’t want your hands on him.
She didn’t want her hands on him, either. Didn’t want to touch the being that had slaughtered her family. For Amun, though…anything.
“All right. I’m willing to give you what you want,” she said to Hate.
Haidee, Amun warned.
She continued anyway. “For me to return your demon to you, you’ll have to let me touch you. And as you know, I can’t touch you without hurting you. That tiny piece of the demon hurt you coming out, right, so it stands to reason it’ll hurt going back into you. So don’t fight me, okay?” Because she wasn’t going to give him the demon. She was going to take it. All of it.
No matter the consequences to herself.
A long while passed in silence, Hate rigid as he pondered whether or not to trust her. Finally, perhaps realizing he could not have what he wanted any other way, he nodded. “I will let you touch me.”
She experienced another beat of hope. Until—
“After I ensure your cooperation,” he finished. “Betray me, and your warrior dies. See?”
Hope, completely dashed. And there was no more time to think, to prepare. One second Hate was in front of them, the next he was behind them, just as she’d feared. He shoved her out of the way, careful not to connect with her skin, and slammed a mighty fist into Amun’s head. Her warrior stumbled to the side but was quick to right himself—and just as quick to spin, blade slashing out.
Hate anticipated the move and dematerialized, reappearing behind Amun. Again. The creature had no weapons, but then, he’d never needed them before, so why would he now? He always used his claws. He slashed those claws at Amun, scraping the back of the warrior’s neck.
Amun howled inside his head, no sound escaping his lips. He spun, launched himself at Hate a second time. That black robe swished as the creature danced out of the way, and an eerie laugh filled the cave.
“You are stronger than the others I killed on Haidee’s behalf, but like them, you will fall. I won’t slay you, though. No, I’ll just keep you close to the brink. And afterward, when I have all of my demon, I’ll let you go.”
A lie. She knew that soul-deep. He had no plans to let either of them go.
Haidee narrowed her eyes on the creature responsible for so much of her pain. He was Hate in its purest form. And she had a piece of him inside her. She had Hate. She drew on the emotion now, letting it fill her, consume her. The ice always churning inside her blossomed in her veins, turning her blood to sludge. Good. Yes. This was her purpose, after all. This was what the goddess had wanted her to do.
Destroy.
The warriors continued to fight, lashing out, connecting, blood spraying. Amun was faster than she’d realized and managed to land several blows. In fact, the more he fought, the faster he became, until he seemed to anticipate exactly where Hate would reappear. Soon Amun was landing more punches and slices than his enemy.
Still. That wouldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done. Finally, she would end this.
The two slammed into the rocky walls of the cave, dust pluming around them. One would throw the other, and they would spring apart, only to fly at each other again. Snarls and growls reverberated, followed by the crack of broken bones, the sick whisper of flesh splitting apart.
She would have to jump into their midst.
A strange turn of events, one she’d never seen coming. She’d fought all her life to stay alive, to avoid the sting of death and rebirth. Not this time, though. Better to die herself than to allow Hate to live. Better to die herself than to allow Amun to be hurt. She’d hurt him enough. She loved him more than her own life. More than that, she owed him. Hell, she owed his friends. They’d lost one brother because of her. She wouldn’t be the cause of Amun’s loss.
Though she trembled, knowing deep down that this was going to hurt her more than it would hurt Hate, Haidee focused on Amun. On his thoughts. They weren’t touching, but he was too busy to block her and soon she heard a whirl of commands, absorbed his knowledge and his fury, all the while sifting though the massive influx to find what she needed—the urgings of his demon.
There! Suddenly she knew what Hate planned, three moves in advance. She watched. Waited. Amun was so focused on his opponent, he paid her invasion—and her intentions—no heed. She counted down…still watching…still waiting…finally launching herself into the fray. She plowed into Hate just as he reappeared, her head connecting with his middle and her hands wrapping around his neck. They were skin to skin as they plummeted to the ground. Better yet, they were out of Amun’s range.
The moment they hit, she unleashed the cold. Hate screamed as
ice formed on his heated body, connecting them, and he was unable to jerk away.
Haidee, she heard Amun scream inside her head.
She tuned him out, concentrating fully on her task. When she’d taken those demons from Amun, she’d had to lower her guard. She’d had to stop fighting him and let him in. Welcome him. She did that now, with Hate. Lowered her guard. Fighting him no longer.
She wanted his demon, and she would have it.
At first, the demon—that hot, hot darkness inside him, scaled, with glowing red eyes—ran from her as the demons she’d absorbed had done. She was having none of that, however, and gave chase, the ice spreading. Soon there was nowhere else for the terrified demon to run. She had consumed Hate’s entire body.
She latched on to a sharpened claw. At the first moment of contact, pain exploded through her. She wanted to balk, to jump as far away as she could, but she merely held on tighter, heaving the being from Hate’s body into hers. Tug-of-war, and she would win.
Despite the ice, Hate thrashed against her, pushed against her. Still she held on, still she tugged. Then that ice began to melt, leaving her. Just as before, fire bloomed in its place, spreading, and acid started flowing through her veins. Spiderwebs winked through her vision, and dizziness bombarded her.
The darkness that had been a part of her for centuries cried out in welcome as the demon High Lord slipped into her little by little. No longer did she have to tug. The demon wanted inside her now, was even aiding her, desperate to crawl in, to be whole again.
Almost over, she thought, hurting so badly tears were streaking down her cheeks.
Suddenly there was a pain of another kind tearing through her neck, her back—Amun started shouting again, perhaps crying, but she hardly noticed. Her insides were too busy burning to ash.
And then she was being pulled away from the former keeper of Hate. She didn’t protest; she had the demon now. All of the demon, and it was zipping through her mind, banging into her skull, filling her up, consuming her.
Haidee, sweetheart. Please. Let me see those beautiful eyes.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she saw that Amun was looming over her, bathed in red. Blood? But blood had never glowed like that before.
Sweetheart, oh, gods, sweetheart. He’d never looked so tormented.
She opened her mouth to reply, but something warm flowed from her mouth rather than words. Is he dead? She didn’t have the strength to push the words into his mind, but somehow he heard her anyway.
Yes, sweetheart, he’s dead. Tears glistened in his black gaze.
You’re sad? Don’t be sad, baby. We won. She tried to reach up, to brush those tears away, but again, she didn’t have the strength.
Oh, sweetheart. Soft fingers smoothed her brow.
Her heartbeat was slowing, then fluttering, almost nonexistent. Thankfully, though, the cold was returning to her limbs, dousing the fire. Once the ice returned, she thought, she could expel the demon, right? And she and Amun could be together.
Amun had feared she wouldn’t be able to expel the demon, that he would forever be a part of her. If that were the case, she would deal.
He…fought you. He ravaged your throat.
She blinked, not understanding. Sweetheart, you’re…fading.
Fading? The red glow bathing his face was dimming. Did that mean… I’m…dying?
No! I’ll do something. There has to be something. Amun leapt into motion, dragging the backpack next to her. With shaky hands, he reached inside and withdrew bandages and other materials to try and save her. Stay with me, sweetheart. Okay?
She was. She was dying.
She tried to obey him, she really did. Not because she feared the pain that awaited her, but because she wanted to be with this man always. She didn’t want him hurt by images of her death the way she’d been hurt by images of her family. So she fought the cold, the weakness. And while she fought, she realized she could expunge the demon, because a scaled, fanged and clawed creature rose from her skin, its eyes bright red.
Amun watched, horrified. She watched, too, amazed that she hadn’t had to corner him and force him out. Amazed that she didn’t hurt anymore. But when the beast darted out of the cave, roaring hysterically, she found there was nothing left to tether her to her body. Darkness was pulling at her.
Her organs were shutting down, the ice that had saved her now killing her. She knew the feeling well. Had experienced it hundreds of times before. This was the end of her.
I love you, she told Amun.
He never stopped bandaging her wounds. Then stay, damn it. Fight this. Haidee! Do you hear me? Don’t you dare leave me!
I love you, she repeated, and then, because she couldn’t fight any longer, she allowed herself to be pulled the rest of the way into the darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AMUN WAS GOING CRAZY. Haidee had died. Died. Her heart had stopped, her ruined body had gone still and her eyes had glazed. She’d had no breath left inside her lungs, even when he’d pumped at her chest for hours, her blood all over his hands. And then she’d disappeared. Simply vanished, as if she’d never existed.
He screamed for hours more—and Secrets screamed along with him.
While Amun had been making love with Haidee that second time, the demon had realized that she would never hurt them, no matter how powerful she was. That she would always strive to make life better for them.
With the realization, affection for her had grown. Not just because she possessed so many secrets, but because of her. Even though she was a demon-slayer, a justice-dealer, she was the demon’s favorite playground.
How could Themis have sentenced such a precious female to die? Where was the justice in such a vile action?
Amun was suddenly happy the goddess was currently rotting in Tartarus with the rest of the Greeks. After everything she’d done, she deserved that and more.
Only, if she hadn’t acted, Amun never would have had this second chance with Haidee. Or even met her at all. She was a gift. His gift. And he’d failed her. In every way that mattered, he’d failed her. Twice she’d died because of him. And she hated to die, feared the pain, the loss of her memories.
My fault, he thought.
The first time had been an accident on his part. This second time, she had rushed headlong into danger to save him. He’d been too focused on slaying their enemy to take note of her plan. Foolish of him. He was the keeper of Secrets, damn it! He should have guessed her intentions, and he should have stopped her.
When she had locked on Hate, Amun hadn’t known what to do or how to separate them. All Secrets had known was that breaking the link between the pair would hurt Haidee far more than letting her finish drawing the demon into herself. But then Hate had begun fighting her, chomping at her, clawing at her, and Amun hadn’t cared about her pain—he’d cared only about saving her life. He’d ripped them apart.
But he was too late.
The wound in Haidee’s neck had been fatal.
Amun paced. If he summoned the angel, Zacharel, he would be escorted home. His demon knew this, sensed it now as if the knowledge had always been there, yet Amun could not force himself to do so. This was the last place he’d seen Haidee, the last place he’d held her, tasted her, and he didn’t want to leave just yet, didn’t want to give up the sweet scent of her that lingered in the air or the chill of her that was wrapped around him like a cloak.
He needed to formulate a plan. Without interference from his friends.
Haidee had told him not to try to find her cave. That, he would ignore. He would find that cave. He would help her through those waves of hate. If she still possessed any hint of the demon inside her, that is. The creature had risen from her, and had seemed intact. Nothing missing.
But even without the demon, she wouldn’t stay dead. She’d said so herself. She would come back to him.
And if she was without even that small piece, she could very well remember him.
Suddenly hope welled withi
n him. First, he had to find her. And he would. She was out there. She had to be out there. If she didn’t remember him and fought him, he would let her go, wouldn’t hurt her, even to save himself. But then what? What if she returned to the Hunters?
He would just have to follow her, guard her from a distance. He’d slipped past her defenses once. He could do so again.
All he had to do was reach her.
Decided on his course of action, he grabbed the backpack and at last shouted for Zacharel in his mind. A few seconds later, as expected, the angel appeared. No bright light, just blink, and the winged warrior was there. Those wings arched over the wide expanse of his shoulders, white threaded with gold. He still wore a colorless robe, his dark hair slicked back from his face.
Those brilliant green eyes regarded Amun with satisfaction. “And so you are saved.”
Yes, he signed. Now take me to my woman.
His demand elicited a single shake of that dark head. There was no sorrow in the angel’s expression. No emotion whatsoever. “I cannot do so. She is dead.”
So simply stated. Amun almost pounded over and stabbed the bastard in the heart. She will be reanimated in Greece. You will take me to her. Now.
“No. She is not in Greece.”
Yes. She is.
Still emotionless, the angel said, “When she drew the rest of Hate inside her, the demon reformed in its entirety. When she released it, she released every bit of it, even the part that had bonded to her. A bond that was never supposed to happen. She was supposed to draw and release. But because she did bond, she could no longer live without Hate. Just as you cannot live without your demon.” The layer of truth in his voice was devastating. “This, you already know.”
Still he fought the very idea of it. She’s alive, I tell you. Aeron died, but then he lived.
“Amun, Haidee had already died. She was already a soul, like those in the heavens and hell. A soul that has now withered once and for all, its source of life gone.”
The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld Book 8) Page 34
