The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld Book 8)

by Gena Showalter

  No! She’s out there. She’s alive. She had to be. Souls reanimate in hell. I’ve seen them. You said so yourself.

  “Those souls never bonded to a demon. Never then lost that demon.”

  No! he repeated. She was blessed by a goddess.

  “A goddess who later turned her back.”

  Haidee is alive, damn you. A blessing is a blessing, and cannot be taken back.

  “Just as the favored cannot fall into disfavor and be kicked from the heavens?”

  That is not the same, and you know it. Why did she keep coming back to life after the goddess turned her back, then?

  “Because she was still intact. This time, she was not. I can take you to her cave, if you’d like. Though I warn you now, it is empty. I checked, just to be sure.”

  He didn’t panic. Yet. He concentrated on his breathing, on drawing the still-chilled air through his nose, letting it fill his lungs, clear his mind. But with the breath, his demon—who didn’t like the angel, but couldn’t stay out of his head, searching for answers—at last discerned what was the fantasy Amun desired and what was the reality he feared.

  Haidee had not returned to Greece.

  There was no way to save her.

  She. Was. Dead.

  Forever.

  Zacharel had spoken the truth. As always.

  A roar nearly split Amun’s head in two. He gripped his ears, trying to block the noise. That didn’t help. On and on the roar tormented him. His eardrums shattered. Blood leaked onto his shoulders. Eventually, his knees gave out. He fell to the ground, hot tears springing into his eyes. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t be dead.

  She was dead.

  She is waiting for me in her cave.

  She wasn’t waiting for him in her cave.

  She will remember me.

  She would remember nothing. She was dead. Now, always.

  Any illusion he tried to create, his demon instantly destroyed. In that moment, he hated his demon. Hated so much he could have been possessed by the essence of the demon Haidee had harbored inside her. The truth…oh, gods, the truth. Nothing had ever hurt him so intensely. She was dead, she was dead, she was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back.

  She shouldn’t have died. He should have died.

  Why hadn’t he died?

  Other questions swirled through the crushing grief, and he found himself glaring up at the angel. Did you know she would…that she would end up that way when you brought us here?

  “Of course,” Zacharel offered without any hesitation. “Her death was the only way to save you.”

  No reaction. Not yet. What do you mean? She had pulled the demons from Amun and successfully released them, all without messing with Secrets. Afterward, she had been healthy, whole. Until Hate. But Hate had not been a part of Amun. So, after healing him, she could have walked away.

  Oh, gods. She could have walked away.

  If he had called for Zacharel then…

  “Have you not realized yet? You never needed to visit hell to release those demons. You had only to learn to trust each other. That was the only way Haidee could discover the truth about her abilities. That was the only way you would let her close enough to use those abilities on you.”

  Then why did you send us here? Why? I would rather have died myself. Me!

  “You were sent here because nothing draws people together faster than perilous situations. More than that, I was not told to save Haidee. Only you.”

  But she didn’t have to die. His motions were jerky now. We could have left before Hate found her. You could have swooped in.

  “She was going to die whether Hate found her or not. She loved you. Eventually, that love would have weakened her demon. Just as your demon feeds on secrets, hers fed on hate. Ultimately, that love would have killed her.”

  No. She loved before. Others loved her.

  “Did she? Did they? No, she did not. No, they did not. Many overcame their dislike for her, some even came to care for her, but no one loved her with their whole heart. Until you.”

  Secrets found no deception in the confession.

  So Amun had killed her. Again. His love for her had doomed her for eternity. She would have lived if he’d left her alone, if he had refused to bring her down here. If he hadn’t given in to his craving for her.

  He hated himself.

  He hated Zacharel now, too.

  They had moved her around like a chess piece. They had set her up for failure. And why? To save him.

  If Haidee had survived this, Amun could have continued on with his life. Even if she’d hated him, he could have continued on, happy in the knowledge that she was out there somewhere. But this…this shattered him. She was gone forevermore, and he was responsible. The knowledge ruined him. He was raw, eternally wounded, unable to heal. And he didn’t need Secrets to confirm that.

  There was only one thing left to do.

  Take me home, he signed, as determined as he was defeated.

  “I find I am oddly…troubled by your reaction. I did not expect this, nor do I understand what I am feeling. What I know is that I do not like it and something must be done.”

  In less than a heartbeat of time, Amun’s surroundings changed. Gone were the bleak rocks he’d shared with Haidee, and in their place were the smooth white walls of his bedroom. He took no comfort from the familiar setting.

  He moved to his bed and sat down on the edge. The angel never reappeared, and that was probably for the best. Amun wanted to kill him for hiding the truth—however he’d done so—and for allowing Amun to save himself and condemn his woman. And he would kill the angel. Soon, but not yet, for the action would earn him a death sentence of his own. A sentence he would welcome just as soon as he said goodbye to his friends.

  That was all he had left to do.

  He wasn’t going to live without Haidee; it was as simple as that.

  AFTER ZACHAREL BRIEFED TORIN on everything that had happened to Amun and Haidee, gathered the rest of his angels and finally left the fortress for good, their job now done, the keeper of Disease studied his friend on several of his computer monitors. The cameras Strider had placed in Secrets’s bedroom hadn’t yet been disabled, so Torin had a clear view of his friend from multiple angles.

  The warrior might be back to normal, but he wasn’t even close to being happy. Desolation seemed to cling to him. His dark skin was dulled, and his eyes were bleaker than Torin had ever seen them.

  Torin ached for him. Even though he didn’t understand how Amun had fallen for such a woman, he still ached for the man. And he wouldn’t judge. Amun would get enough of that from the others. What he needed right now was compassion and unconditional support. Support Torin would give him.

  Once upon a time, Torin had killed a woman he lusted after. He’d worshipped her from afar and had finally given in and touched her. Just a simple brush of his knuckles on her soft cheek, but soon afterward, he’d been forced to watch her sicken and die. He’d been helpless to save her.

  Knowing he was responsible had torn him up inside. And if Zacharel was right, Amun blamed himself for Haidee’s loss. And the fact that Torin had merely lusted but Amun had loved…well, he doubted his pain could compare.

  Torin tugged at an earlobe. Things were still calm here. Hunters were still missing, still disappearing for seemingly no reason, but now Rhea had disappeared, as well. As Cronus had done with Strider, he’d just popped in and informed him. So…

  Whether the warriors here would judge Amun or not, Amun needed them. Needed a distraction from his guilt. That wouldn’t be the same as compassion and support, but those things would follow. Hopefully.

  So Torin lifted his cell phone and sent everyone the same message. Amun’s here & sane. Angels gone. Return ASAP. He needs help.

  Replies began arriving seconds after he pressed send, and soon every single one of the warriors (besides William) had agreed to come home.

  On way. He OK? Aeron.

  Coming. Something
wrong? Lucien.

  Take me out of your address book. William.

  Will make it. Gideon.

  Cameo & me just hit town. We’ll be there in 10. Kane.

  Let me get Ash situated 1st. Maddox.

  Done & done. Sabin.

  Me & Paris R in the States. Might take a bit, but we’ll B there. Strider.

  Had a tail 4 few days. Will show as soon as I lose it. Reyes.

  Pleased at their show of loyalty amid this crisis, Torin settled back in his chair and waited.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  AMUN’S FRIENDS TRIED TO CHEER him up, they really did. They hugged him, slapped him on the back and told him what they’d been up to. Strider, fighting Hunters. Aeron, playing with his Olivia in the clouds. Lucien, guarding the Cage of Compulsion with his Anya. Gideon, honeymooning with his Scarlet. Kane and Cameo, scouring the city for any sign of the enemy. Maddox, playing nursemaid to his Ashlyn, who was “big as a house.” Her words, not Amun’s. Sabin, begging the Unspoken Ones to give back the artifact Strider had parted with. Reyes, guarding his Danika while she painted glimpses into the future. Paris, getting high on ambrosia and preparing to go to war in the heavens.

  Amun spent two days with them. No one mentioned Haidee. They all avoided talk of her. But as he seated himself at the dinner table, he decided to change that. They didn’t know it, but this was to be his last dinner with them. Tomorrow he would leave the fortress. Tomorrow he would challenge Zacharel.

  Tomorrow he would lose his head.

  He knew what Aeron had experienced after his death. Knew the warrior’s soul had gone to another realm, a place where formerly demon-possessed immortals were supposedly to be trapped, unable to taint any other souls with their darkness. Baden was there. Pandora, too.

  But Aeron, Baden and Pandora had merely died as mortals did. Their souls hadn’t been burned to ash, as an angel’s sword of fire could make happen.

  That’s the death Amun wanted for himself. An end. Totally, completely.

  First, though, he wanted these men to know the kind of woman Haidee had been. To know her as he had, as sweetness and light. As worthy. As the best among them. He wanted them to know what she had given up. And so, while they piled their plates high with food, he started talking.

  “Haidee was not the monster we painted her. She was strong and courageous.”

  Conversations tapered to quiet as everyone stared at him in shock. He’d never begun a conversation before. Had rarely spoken anything but other people’s memories since his possession.

  He continued before his demon decided to take over and spill the secrets hiding inside everyone around him. “She had every reason to despise us. A demon killed her mother, her father, her sister and her husband. A demon, just like us. Hell, maybe one of us killed her husband. We were there when it happened. And then I helped kill her. Me. I threw her in front of my enemy’s sword. Little wonder she came back for us. For vengeance. We would have done the same. We did the same.”

  Thankfully, no one tried to stop him. Not even his demon.

  “The same demon who killed her family managed to infect her, give her a piece of himself. Of Hate. Yet somehow, though she was little more than a human, she managed to defeat that demon’s darkest urges. Then she was killed again and again and again, and even though every good and decent memory she had was always wiped from her, even though she knew only sadness and pain, she found a way to love me, to save me…to die for me. That is the woman we have hated all this time. Someone we hurt first. Someone with the power to kill the rest of us, someone who could have been used against us, yet chose to save us instead. Through her own death.”

  A thick, heavy silence enveloped the entire room.

  Still Secrets made no attempt to speak through him. Perhaps because the taint of memories had been purged inside that cave. Perhaps because the demon mourned Haidee’s passing as he did.

  His friends continued to stare at him, not moving, not even daring to breathe. Their thoughts and emotions grew in intensity, finally piercing the quiet. Some felt sorry for him. Some felt guilty for having condemned Haidee. Only Sabin refused to back away from his own hate.

  Strider, though… Strider was the worst. Her death is for the best, the warrior thought. Ultimately, she would have turned on him. She wouldn’t have been able to help herself. And when she hurt him, or us, he would have blamed himself. He wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself, either.

  The statement pushed Amun over the edge. Hell. No.

  Amun didn’t realize he’d launched out of his seat until he had his hands around Strider’s neck. Until he was tossing the warrior into the wall, plaster dusting around him. “What the fuck, man?” a scowling Strider demanded as he stood.

  “Her death wasn’t for the best! She was lovely, damn you. She deserved to live. I’m the one who should have died. And you can wrap up your excuses as prettily as you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you just don’t care that she’s dead.”

  “Okay. Okay. Whatever. Just relax. You’re entitled to your opinion, and I’m entitled to mine.”

  “Mine is the only one that matters!” With a roar, Amun launched at Strider again. They fell to the floor in a tangle of violence.

  “Stop,” Lucien commanded. “Now.”

  “Let them finish,” Sabin said.

  Amun tuned them out. His fists pounded at Strider, his legs kicked. Strider, of course, began fighting back. They rolled together and slammed into the table. Plates shattered, food splattered. Both of them knew how to fight, and fight dirty. Knew how to stop a heart from beating, how to break a femur with a well-placed kick, how to smash a trachea and prevent oxygen from making it into greedy lungs. They did all of that and more.

  And still they kept fighting, no one trying to separate them. Amun’s hands soon swelled from continuous impact with bone, his fingers refusing to bend. Dizziness washed through him, black winking over his vision, but even that didn’t slow him. When this was over, Strider was going to regret his thoughts and words. Strider was going to admit how special Haidee had been.

  Defeat’s nose broke under the next strike of Amun’s palm. Blood poured. That crimson flow reminded him of what Hate had done to Haidee—fangs digging into her beautiful neck—and that only increased the depths of his rage.

  “Tell me you appreciate what she did for us. Tell me!”

  “You want me to lie? She was a Hunter,” Strider shouted, a few of his teeth missing. “A killer.”

  “We’re killers!” Another strike. Another direct hit. Two pearly whites sailed through the air.

  “Damn it!” Defeat’s rage increased as well, and he kneed Amun in the groin. “She couldn’t be trusted. I realized that. Why can’t you?” The words were slurred as they pushed through the empty spaces where his teeth had been.

  Amun shook off the pain. What was physical pain after the emotional agony of losing his woman, anyway? He dove into Strider’s middle, sending the warrior flailing to the ground. On impact, Strider lost his breath. The warrior was quick to recover, and they rolled, still pounding on each other—until they slammed into one of the table legs and cracked the wood.

  Amun stilled, glaring down at the man he’d once called brother. “I trusted her more than I trusted anyone else. Even you.”

  Strider pushed, sending Amun stumbling to the other side of the room. “How can you say—”

  “No, you don’t get to speak.” Once again, he closed the distance between them. No mercy. Secrets knew Strider planned to kick, and so Amun jumped out of the way, spun, punched and ducked, punched and ducked. “You wanted her, but you would have tortured her. You would have ruined her.”

  “No.” Somehow, Strider dodged every blow.

  “You might, might, have been able to love her, but only after you’d broken her.” Finally, contact.

  Strider hunched over, trying to catch the breath he’d only just found. “Don’t you see what’s happening? She’s dead, but still she’s pulling u
s apart. I love you. I left this fortress for you. So you could have her.”

  “You left this fortress for you.” No mercy, he thought again. “You couldn’t win her, and you knew it.” Amun kneed him in the chin, sending Strider tumbling back into another wall. “I would have married her, pampered her, and I would have expected every single one of you to accept her. But you wouldn’t have, would you? She was just another challenge to you. But you know what? She rejected you, and you walked away from her without a flicker of pain. That changes now. You will feel pain. You know why? Because I challenged you, and you just lost.” With that, Amun punched him. Punched him so hard his jawbone dislocated completely.

  Strider was knocked unconscious. Even then, he was in physical pain, moaning from the mental anguish of his defeat.

  Amun kicked him while he was down. Again and again.

  Someone grabbed him from behind and jerked him away, holding him so tightly he couldn’t quite draw in a breath. Yet still he fought. His woman had been slighted. He wouldn’t stop until he was appeased. And he would never be appeased.

  “I’m going with her,” he shouted. “Do you hear me? I’m going to die with her! And if you don’t watch your stupid mouth, I’ll take you along, too!”

  Strider released another moan, this one far more pained.

  The warriors holding Amun must have sensed his determination because they ceased trying to hold him and started trying to subdue him.

  “We need you,” he heard.

  “Don’t talk like that, all right.”

  “You’ll get through this.”

  “No. No!” His body was already badly beaten, weakened, but still he fought, his rage like a living entity.

  “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.”

  “No!”

  They squeezed tighter.

  “Let us help you.”

  “What if we spoke to the angel? What if something could be done?”

  “Something can be done,” he snarled.

  Tighter still.

  Haidee, he screamed inside his head then. Soon, I’ll be with you soon. We’ll be… His thoughts fragmented. His motions were slowing. We’ll be together again.