The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  He licked his lips with an aggressive swipe of his tongue. “I’m already a spirit. I can’t be killed.”

  “Oh, dear boy, you most certainly can be killed. Without your head and your arms, you will simply cease to exist.”

  At least there was a way out.

  Hell, no. He would never purposely die. Not again. He would never hurt his friends in such a cowardly way.

  “By enslaving me, you court the wrath of my family. An army you need if you have any hope of winning your war. You also court the wrath of William, your own son.”

  Hades rolled his eyes. “Nice try, but you know nothing about the bond between father and son. William will support me. William will always support me. As for the Lords, I doubt they’ll ever back the monster who raped one of their own.”

  No, they wouldn’t. Aeron, former keeper of Wrath, loved a demon-turned-human girl like a daughter. That girl, Legion...who called herself Honey...still suffered from the effects of Lucifer’s abuse.

  Lucifer deserved a stake through his black heart, not another realm to rule. Siding with him would never be an option.

  Hades was the lesser of two evils.

  Baden flicked his tongue over an incisor. He had to play this bastard’s game—even though he suspected the outcome wouldn’t be as straightforward as Hades claimed.

  Buy time. Figure out a solution.

  “What of your father-son bond with Lucifer?” Baden asked with a sneer. “I’m not exactly feeling your love for him.”

  “There is no bond. Not anymore. Now, that’s enough chatter from you. I have two tasks for you. One will take time. The other will take balls. I hope you’re wearing yours.”

  Bastard.

  Hades clapped his hands and called, “Pippin.”

  An old man with a haggard face and humped back stepped out from behind the throne. He wore a long white robe and chiseled in a stone tablet. Never glancing up from his toils, he said, “Yes, sire.”

  “Tell Baden his first assignments.”

  “The coin and the siren.”

  Hades smiled with fondness. “You spare no detail, Pippin. A true master of description.” When he held out his hand, the robed man placed a tiny piece of stone on his palm. “A male in New York has a coin that belongs to me. I want it back.”

  This was an unsavory task? “You want me to fetch a single coin?”

  “Laugh now, if you like. You won’t be laughing later.” The stone caught fire and quickly burned to ash; Hades blew in Baden’s direction. “You’ll need time, as I said, and cunning.”

  He instinctively inhaled. A moment later, multiple images took center stage in his mind. A golden coin with Hades’s face on one side and a blank canvas on the other. A luxurious country estate. A chapel. A schedule. A picture: a twenty-five-year-old male with the face of an angel framed by golden curls that resembled a halo.

  Suddenly Baden knew a myriad of details he’d never been told. The male’s name was Aleksander Ciernik, and he hailed from Slovakia, where his father built an empire selling heroin and women. Four years ago, Aleksander killed his father and took over the family business. His enemies tended to disappear without a trace. Not that anyone could concretely connect him to a crime.

  “You now have the ability to flash to Aleksander,” Hades said. “You can also flash to me and your home, wherever it happens to be. The ability will expand to include any new assignments you’re given.”

  The ability to flash was something he’d always coveted. Today, his excitement was tempered with caution. “How did the human obtain your coin?”

  “Does it matter? A task is a task.”

  True enough. “And my second assignment?”

  Pippin placed a new stone in Hades’s palm. More flames crackled...more ashes floated in Baden’s direction. As he inhaled, a different image took shape in his mind. A beautiful woman with long strawberry-blond hair and big blue eyes. A siren.

  Every siren could evoke certain emotions or reactions with her voice, but each familial line had a distinctive specialty. Her family excelled at creating calm during chaos.

  The girl...she’d died centuries ago. Killed by—the details remained hidden. What Baden knew? She was now a spirit, though her lack of tangibility wouldn’t be a problem for him. Despite the bands, he was still able to connect with other spirits.

  “Bring me her tongue,” Hades commanded.

  As in, cut out her tongue? “Why?” The single word lashed from Baden.

  “My sincerest apologies for giving you the impression I would assuage your curiosity. Go. Now.”

  Baden opened his mouth to protest only to find himself inside the fortress in Budapest, where his friends lived. He was in the entertainment room, to be exact, with Paris, the keeper of Promiscuity, and Sienna, the new keeper of Wrath. A Hallmark movie played in the background as the two reclined on the couch, eating popcorn and strategizing ways to sneak into the underworld without detection.

  Amun, the keeper of Secrets, sat at a small round table, with his wife by his side. Haidee was petite, her shoulder-length blond hair streaked with pink. A silver stud pierced her brow, and the tank top she wore revealed an arm sleeved with names, faces and numbers. Clues she’d needed to remind herself of who she was every time she’d died and come back, her memories erased. She’d died a lot, the demon of Hate reanimating her every time but the last, allowing her to continue her mission: destroying her enemies. The last time, the incarnation of Love reanimated her.

  Baden had once been enemy number one, which was why she’d helped kill him all those centuries ago.

  The memory rose, one he’d actually lived, and he couldn’t beat it back, as if—because he was both living and dead, body and spirit—he was trapped between present and past. He’d resided in ancient Greece with the other Lords. A distraught Haidee had come knocking on his door, claiming her husband had been injured and he required a doctor.

  From the start, Baden had suspected her of malicious intent. But back then, he’d suspected everyone of malicious intent, and he’d been tired, so very tired, of the constant paranoia. He’d even begun to suspect his friends of wrongdoing, and the urge to hurt them, to kill them, had proven nearly irresistible on a daily basis. On several occasions, he’d stood at the foot of someone’s bed, a blade clutched in his hand. One day, he would have snapped.

  Moving to a new town would have done him no good. Distrust had been as hungry then as Destruction was now. Eventually, the demon would have driven him home. Loose ends could not be tolerated for long, the paranoia they caused too intense. Suicide by homicide had struck him as the only option.

  Seeing Haidee now sliced him up inside. He’d hurt her years before she’d attacked him—had killed her actual husband in battle. She’d hurt him in turn. They were even. Now, they weren’t the people they’d used to be. They’d started over with a clean slate. For the most part.

  Destruction stopped playing dead and snarled at her, remembering her betrayal as if he had been the target. He craved revenge.

  Not going to happen, Baden informed him.

  Kane, the former keeper of Disaster, paced the length of a second table, while his wife Josephina, the queen of the Fae, studied an intricately detailed map. Long black hair tumbled over her delicate shoulders. Hair Kane stopped to smooth out of the way, revealing her pointed ears.

  The warrior whispered something to her—something that made her chuckle—before kissing the scar on her cheek...the hollow of her neck. Her blue eyes warmed and sparkled.

  “War is serious business.” She ran her hands over her rounded belly, a loving caress for her unborn child. “Let’s get serious.”

  Need to leave. Now. Baden wasn’t stable. He shouldn’t be this close to the females, must less the pregnant one.

  In unison, Paris, Amun and Kane noticed him. Each
man jumped in front of his girl, acting as a shield while extending a bloodstained dagger in Baden’s direction.

  He thrilled at seeing them work together. After his death, the twelve warriors he’d only ever sought to protect had split in two groups of six, severely weakening their defensive line. My fault.

  While the groups had mended their broken relationships centuries later, Baden had yet to mend his conscience.

  Destruction kicked at his skull. Kill!

  The moment Baden’s identity clicked, the daggers were lowered and sheathed. Not that the beast was pacified.

  “How’d your vacay with Willy go?” Paris winked. “As bad as the one I took with him?” The male was as tall as Baden, topping out at six-eight. He had multicolored hair, the strands ranging from the darkest black to the palest flax. His eyes were vibrant blue and, when not glaring at potential attackers, they almost always gleamed with welcome, inviting others to enjoy the party...in his pants.

  Baden had always been the sympathetic one. Solid as a rock. There when you needed him. Sad? Call Baden. Upset? Show up at Baden’s place. He would make everything better.

  But not anymore.

  “The vacation—” his excuse for leaving “—is over.”

  Amun nodded a greeting. The strong, silent one. He had dark skin, hair and eyes—guarded eyes—while the fun-loving Kane had happy hazels and, like Paris, multicolored hair, the shades tipping the darker side of the scale.

  They were handsome men, created to be sexual lures as much as assassins.

  “Don’t ever sneak up on me like that, man.” Kane wagged a finger at him. “You’re likely to lose your apple bags. And when did you acquire the ability to flash?”

  “Today. A...gift from Hades.”

  Amun stiffened, as if he could see into Baden’s head. Hell, he probably could.

  “Did the H-bomb do something to you?” Paris demanded. “Say the word and we’ll take him out right along with his degenerate son.”

  “Speaking of Lucifer,” Kane said, waving Baden over. “We’re in the process of creating a step-by-step plan to ensure his downfall.”

  “Right now, we only have step one. Break into his dungeon to liberate Cronus and Rhea.” Josephina rubbed her belly. “They know too much about you guys. Your weaknesses, your needs. We can lock them in our dungeon.”

  It was never a good idea to allow one of your enemies to be controlled by another of your enemies. But recently, Cronus, the former keeper of Greed, and Rhea, the former keeper of Strife, had been beheaded. The self-touted gods had been given a pair of serpentine wreaths, but theirs had come from Lucifer. Hades had not performed an exchange.

  “Don’t go after the Titans,” Baden said. “Not yet. They’re likely enslaved to Lucifer.” The way he and Pandora were enslaved to Hades. They might have powers—and desires—the Lords knew nothing about.

  “I don’t see the problem.” Sienna moved beside her man. The slender woman had curly dark hair and a freckled face. The enormous black wings arching above her shoulders gave her a regal and slightly wicked quality. “An enslaved man is a weakened man. There’s no better time to nab them.”

  No! Baden refused to believe her assertion. He was enslaved, but he wasn’t weak. “Just...trust me on this. Lucifer might want you to rescue the pair. Let me do a little digging first.” He knew the first place to use his shovel. Though Keeley was currently shacked up with Torin, the keeper of Disease, she’d once been engaged to Hades. “Where’s the Red Queen?”

  “With the artifacts,” Haidee said. “Why do you—”

  Baden strode into the hall before she could finish, and the beast roared with displeasure.

  Never leave an enemy behind.

  I didn’t. I left friends.

  He tuned out the shouts of denial, reaching the artifact room without incident.

  Keeley was pacing. She stomped past the Paring Rod, the Cage of Compulsion, then turned and stomped past them again, twisting the Cloak of Invisibility between her fingers.

  “I can’t find dimOuniak, and if I can’t find it, I can’t find the Morning Star,” she muttered. She was a beautiful woman who changed colors with the seasons. Summer had given her pink hair with streaks of green and eyes the color of an afternoon sky. “I have to find the box. I have to find the Morning Star. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?”

  Baden knew the danger of startling this woman who had powers beyond imagining, but cleared his throat anyway.

  As she jolted, a lightning rod of pain sliced through him.

  The beast kicked up another fuss, demanding Baden slay her.

  He should thank her. She could have done far worse damage to him. This? This was nothing.

  “Baden?” She blinked with confusion.

  Forced inhale...forced exhale. “The wreaths have made me a slave to Hades.”

  “Uh, yeah.” She flipped the long length of her hair over her shoulder, the action wholly feminine, hiding the otherworldly strength she somehow managed to contain inside such a fragile-looking frame. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

  She’d known? “It is. To me.”

  “If you didn’t want to be Hades’s yes boy, why did you accept his wreaths?” She anchored her hands on her hips. “You could have remained Lucifer’s yes boy.”

  When she’d appeared with Hades, she’d said, This season’s hottest accessory! You’ll never regret the decision to wear them. You have my word.

  His jaw clenched so forcefully his teeth ached. He reminded her of her promise.

  “I said that?” She shrugged. “Wow. You’re gullible. But, uh, I’m certain I calculated the odds of something bad happening to you.”

  Oh, really. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d love to hear your math.”

  “Well, if you have two wreaths and one immortal, how many problems will he face? Gold. Obviously. Because the heart bleeds secrets and doggies have claws.”

  How did Torin remain sane when conversing with her? On top of being crazypants from centuries of captivity, she had a shit memory. She’d existed since the dawn of time and had often referred to her mind as a corkboard with too many pictures attached. Some things were hidden by others.

  Focus on the task at hand. “Are Cronus and Rhea now controlled by Lucifer?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Finally. A coherent answer.

  “But the blind cannot lead the blind.”

  An-n-nd back to square one. Lucifer, Cronus and Rhea were not blind. Baden switched routes. “Hades commanded me to fetch a coin.”

  “Well, don’t look at me for a loan.” She held her hands up, palms out, and backed away from him. “I might beat you with a pillowcase full of quarters, but I’ll never share a penny.”

  “I’m not asking for money. I’m asking for information.” He had to tap into the vast ocean of her knowledge. Somehow. “Think. Why would Hades want a specific coin?”

  “Is he broke, too? Prick! If he steals the diamonds I stole, I’ll remove his testicles. Again!”

  Calm... “Listen carefully, Keeley. A human male has Hades’s coin, and Hades wants this most special coin back. Does it have unusual powers?” Could Baden use it to his advantage?

  She blew him a kiss. “I’m mighty and fearsome. Immortal royalty! I don’t concern myself with mortal affairs.”

  Steady... “Forget the human.” For now. “I’m supposed to remove the tongue of a siren. Why would Hades command me to do such a gruesome task?”

  “Hello! Because two tongues are better than one.”

  Destruction shoved a roar out of Baden’s mouth as a memory rose...Keeley hovering in the air, her hair such a dark red the strands resembled rivers of blood. Others hovered in the air around her, their bodies taut, their limbs shaking...their lips parted in an endless scream
.

  One by one, the men and women burst apart, pieces of flesh and viscera raining down on him—on the beast. Blood splashed him, the only man left standing.

  She smiled at him. “Better?”

  “Much.” He clapped, proud of her, but also leery. If her power increased any more, she would be able to defeat him.

  All threats had to be eliminated.

  Fingers snapped in front of Baden’s face, and he blinked, returning to the present.

  “Hey!” Summer Keeley looked him over. “You went zero dark thirty on me.”

  “I’m not sure you understand the term—never mind. I apologize.” The beast had known and admired Keeley. Must have met her through Hades...must have been friends with Hades?

  No better time to dispose of a future threat. Even if the threat is an ally.

  Suddenly Baden’s hands ached to wrap around her neck and squeeze.

  Her spine will break as easily as a twig.

  Horrified, he stepped out of reach. William had spoken true. One day, he would snap; he would be hated. The guilt he carried now would not compare to the guilt he carried then.

  He had to leave the fortress, and this time, he had to stay gone. William’s sex plan had merit but he now knew beyond a doubt it wasn’t the answer. Because of his skin sensitivity, yes, but also because he couldn’t trust anyone.

  Again, the irony.

  Lucifer would send another assassin. It was only a matter of time.

  Destruction writhed with anticipation, practically foaming at the mouth to prove himself strong. Attack me. See what happens.

  Let me guess. You’ll kill. Broken record. The beast needed new material.

  A sense of loss struck Baden. His friends wouldn’t understand his continued absence. A second “vacation.” They would worry, and they would wonder if they’d done something wrong.

  Together we stand, or one by one we fall.

  How many times had Maddox, the keeper of Violence, spoken those words since Baden’s return? Countless.