The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  “Katarina.” He reached for her again. “I need to—”

  She rolled away, done with him, done with the conversation—done with life.

  * * *

  Besieged by helplessness, Baden plowed a hand through his hair. Katarina loved her dogs the way he loved his friends. All-encompassing. Never-ending. Nothing held back. He had no doubts about that. Even without a flood of tears, so much sadness and misery radiated from her, she rivaled Cameo.

  In an attempt to save her dogs, Katarina had sacrificed her happiness and her future. And, during Baden’s short acquaintance with her, he’d repeatedly mocked her for it. He’d sneered at her and insulted her. His actions had even spurred Aleksander’s, leading to the untimely deaths of the animals.

  She hated Aleksander, and she hated Baden. She had every right.

  She’s just a means to an end. I don’t need her admiration.

  But there was an ache in his chest now. One he couldn’t shake. He knew the horror of losing loved ones, of feeling as if you’d been dropped in the middle of an ocean during a turbulent storm, wave after wave crashing over you, rocks scraping you; again and again you swallowed too much water, but still you fought to breathe, to rise. The moment you breached the surface, hoping you were in the clear, you were swept under again.

  How many centuries had passed before he’d stopped missing his friends? Trick question. He’d never stopped.

  Far too vividly he remembered the centuries he’d been imprisoned, the rats his only friends. He’d adored those rats...had cried when he’d had to eat them to survive.

  Survival before sentiment.

  No, no. The rats...not Baden’s memory but Destruction’s.

  With a grunt, Baden pulled at his hair. “You’ll be safe here, Katarina. You have my word.” He owed her, and he would pay his debt.

  The beast began to utter a protest, only to quiet. The girl’s misery touched a chord in them both.

  Silence met his pronouncement, somehow worse than a torrent of curses.

  He’d brought Katarina to the fortress in Budapest. The other women would care for her, hopefully soothing her as they’d so often tried to soothe him; the men would guard her from any and every danger while Baden saw to Aleksander’s punishment. For killing the dogs, he would lose his eyes. To start.

  Anticipation...

  Suddenly the wreaths began to warm. Baden glanced down as a soft red glow pulsed from the metal.

  Another summons from Hades.

  Knowing what was coming, he raced to the door, shouting, “Maddox. Ashlyn. Anyone! Do not harm the—”

  The fortress vanished, and the throne room materialized. Hades was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the siren. Instead, a black tornado swirled over the bottom step of the royal dais, a thousand screams assaulting Baden’s ears.

  The tornado slowed...stopped, the wealth of black shadows thinning. Hades appeared in the center, standing over what might have been a body, the flesh and muscle picked off, the bone pitted. A bloody heart rested in his hand. He’d ditched the suit and tie in favor of a black T-shirt and leather pants, chains wrapped around both of his wrists.

  From business formal to punk rock. The man was a chameleon.

  Destruction played the quiet game, just as before, irritating Baden. “What do you want?”

  Hades smiled, and there was blood on his teeth. “We’re just waiting on— Ah. There she is.”

  A movement at Baden’s right. He twisted and came face-to-face with Pandora.

  “You.” She scowled at him, her hair standing on end, her fangs beginning to grow. Claws extended from the ends of her nails.

  Baden’s body expanded, preparing for battle.

  “There will be no bloodshed in my throne room,” Hades announced. “Well, no more. Not today.”

  His muscles locked onto his bones, preventing any kind of movement. The same freeze-frame clearly overtook Pandora, her expression strained as she fought the immobility.

  Only when he made a conscious decision to stand down—won’t act, not here—did he gain his freedom.

  “Now, then.” Hades stalked toward them. “You broke my only rule. You tried to kill my other slave.”

  “You never said attempting to kill Baden was a problem,” Pandora replied. “Only that I’d be killed if I succeeded.”

  How did he know of Pandora’s crime?

  “Pippin.” Hades clapped his hands.

  The white-robed man appeared in a puff of dark smoke. Like before, he clutched a stone tablet.

  “Yes, sire.”

  “What’s my only rule?”

  “That there are no rules, sire.”

  “And?” Hades prompted.

  “And whatever else you decide, sire.”

  “That’s right. Whatever else I decide.” Hades spread his arms, the very picture of smug masculinity. “I’ve decided even an attempt to kill each other is a punishable offense. You won’t be beheaded for it, even if you succeed, but you will be penalized—and wish I’d killed you instead.”

  Baden swallowed a curse. “If you’re allowed to change your mind whenever you wish, how can we trust you’ll keep your word and liberate the winner?”

  “Do you have any other choice?” The king pinched off a piece of the still-beating organ and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste. “Spy is so much better than chocolate.”

  Pandora flinched, and Baden frowned. Had she sent someone to spy on Hades?

  “Send another one, Pandy girl, and you won’t like what happens.” Hades dropped what was left of the organ and wiped his hands together.

  Well. That answered that.

  “Now,” the king said. “You’re lucky I have a heart today.” He kicked the one he’d dropped like it was a soccer ball. “I’m going to go easy on you. For attacking Baden, you are hereby stripped of your point.” He glared at Pandora, daring her to respond. “And you.” He focused on Baden, his anger seeming to double.

  Baden waved his fingers, all bring it. He would not apologize for defending himself.

  “You have yet to acquire my coin.”

  That was the male’s beef? “This particular task requires time. Your words, not mine.”

  Hades winced on Baden’s behalf. “Time, yes. Eternity, no. To speed things up, Pandora will aid you.”

  A roar rose from deep in his chest. Calm. Steady. With or without the game, Baden would be the one to find the coin and slay Aleksander. My point. My right.

  “I’ll ensure Pandora can flash to the male. In the meantime, I have a new task for you.” Hades held out his palm and Pippin placed a piece of stone in the center.

  The stone caught fire, turned to ash and when that ash drifted Baden’s way, he inhaled it.

  New images popped up in his mind. A bearded man with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot. He had multiple scars on his arms. Thin straight lines, as if sliced by a blade.

  Baden’s mind jumped the track to Katarina and her scars.

  The pang returned to his chest. The pain she must have endured—

  Stop. Concentrate!

  New information continued to barrage him. The man was a sociopath, killing without concern for the age and gender of his victims. After every murder, he notched both of his arms as a memento.

  Baden ran his tongue over his teeth. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Bring me his head. Today.”

  In the past, Baden had only ever killed during battle. And he’d never enjoyed it. This time, he thought he might cheer alongside the beast.

  What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?

  Katarina’s words danced through his mind, and he frowned.

  I have a mission to do, a point to earn. An evil act
against an evil man.

  Would Katarina understand? Would she castigate him for his actions?

  Concentrate. Why did Hades want the head of a human?

  The answer rose. The target played host to some sort of dark presence. Not a demon, not even a creature like Destruction. But something even worse. Something Lucifer hoped to obtain to use against Hades and give himself an edge in the war.

  Baden would catch it and escort it to the underworld along with the head. Because, as much as he disliked Hades, he wouldn’t allow evil to roam free on the earth. Not if he could stop it. He would also do anything, even remain a slave, to prevent Lucifer from ruling supreme over any more territory.

  “Consider it done. A point earned.” He pictured his target... flashed to a small log cabin. Despite the light cast by multiple kerosene lamps, doom-and-gloom tainted the air—or maybe the blame was the scent of rot.

  Baden strode into the kitchen...found a dead body strapped to a long wooden table, the chest cavity opened, and several organs removed.

  His target perched at the end of the table, eating what looked to be a liver. Nice. He was talking to the corpse.

  “—was nekkid as a jaybird. I almost spit my soda—” He noticed Baden and grabbed the rifle propped against his chair. “You stay right thar, now, you heer.”

  Baden flashed to his side, grabbed the gun and slammed the handle into his temple, then his yellowed teeth. Jab, jab. Impact sent him tumbling to the floor, but he wasn’t out for the count. He crab-walked backward, blood trickling down his face, catching in his dirty beard.

  “Don’t be hurtin’ me. Please.” He tried to stealthily reach inside his boot, where a dagger hilt peeked out.

  Thinks to stab me?

  Baden flashed over and stomped on his hand, breaking the bones.

  As a scream of agony cut through the air, Destruction laughed with delight—so did Baden. Then the man pissed himself, and one of the beast’s memories knocked on the door of Baden’s mind.

  He fought to remain in the present...but he...he...the cabin was replaced by a cell. No longer a child but finally a man, he stalked to the first person he’d seen in centuries. The lord of the castle. The one who’d paid his mother a few measly coins for the privilege of “taming” him. The one who’d ordered his imprisonment when he’d resisted the taming.

  The lord was draped in expensive velvets, with different medals pinned to his shoulders and chest. How many battles had he won? Countless. And yet, he urinated as the distance between them vanished, knew his time had come—

  In the present, Baden’s feet were knocked out from under him. He blinked and shook his head, breaking the tight grip of the past. His target stabbed him in the chest and raced toward the front door.

  Baden grabbed his ankle, tripping him. His jaw shattered, blood and what remained of his teeth spewing over the wood panels.

  Smiling, Baden removed the dagger and stood. The man stayed down.

  What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?

  Act. Now, Destruction demanded.

  Survival first, nothing else second.

  “You showed no mercy to your victims. Now I show no mercy to you.” Baden seized a fistful of the man’s hair, lifted his head—just do it!—and sliced the dagger across his throat. Blood spurted from the wound, and down below, the male’s bowels released.

  Death was never pretty.

  Baden hacked through the remaining tendon and bone, the head detaching. As he straightened, a dark mist rose from the body. The presence he’d seen in the ash-vision.

  A set of neon red eyes found him, and crimson lips parted with a hiss. Baden reached out, expecting a fight. But the darkness lunged at him—and sank inside his arm. Before his eyes, one of the lines etched into his flesh thickened.

  He ground his molars, a white-hot burn searing him. What. The. Hell?

  He stomped through the kitchen, searching for a garbage bag. He found a potato sack, stuffed the head inside and flashed to Hades’s throne room.

  Destruction went silent, as usual. Pandora was gone. The king stood in a half circle with a group of warriors Baden had never met. They were tatted up, pierced and radiated the kind of acerbity he’d only ever encountered from Hades and William.

  They were young, looked to be Baden’s age, a mere four or five millennia.

  A spark of memory—of recognition—courtesy of Destruction. Most of the supernatural world believed there were only three realms in hell. There were actually nine. The other realms had always preferred to remain hidden. No longer. They had taken sides in the war.

  These four men were kings of their own realms. The tallest was known as the Iron Fist; he was the reason the phrase existed. The others were equally notorious. Merciless killers. Coveted by lovers. Powerful in the most wicked of ways.

  “—to win,” Hades was saying, only to stiffen.

  They all stiffened. In unison, they turned to face Baden.

  Don’t want me here? Too bad. He tossed the sack at Hades’s feet. “I’ve earned my point.”

  Hades gazed at the bolder mark on Baden’s arm, satisfaction glinting in his eyes. “Yes, I can see that.”

  So. The king had known the presence would attach itself to Baden, had even wanted it to happen. “What is it, exactly?” More important, how did he get rid of it?

  “That, dear boy, is my gift to you. A monster other monsters fear. One the human you killed was unable to control or use to his advantage. You, however, will not be so lacking. You’re welcome.”

  “I want it.” The Iron Fist stroked the handle of his sword. “Give it to me.”

  “You think to order my assassin?” Hades asked with quiet venom. “To take from him?”

  The threat in his voice was unmistakable, and Baden blinked in amazement. Hades was protective of him, even though he himself had threatened Baden’s life?

  A development worth exploring.

  “I order and take at will.” The warrior kept his hand on the sword. “Have destroyed entire kingdoms for a single trinket I later deemed unworthy of my greatness.”

  “Which is why I like you,” Hades replied. “Don’t make me dislike you.”

  The other kings bristled. A fight brewed.

  “If I’m no longer needed...” Baden had no desire to deal with Destruction, who would insist on participating in the battle between kings, if only to show himself strong. He longed to return to Katarina. They had unfinished business.

  Hades smiled at him, colder than ice. “I will have another mission for you. Soon. Until then, stay alive.”

  8

  “They called me a bitch. I called them an ambulance.”

  —Cameo, keeper of Misery

  KATARINA LAY ON the floor of the unfamiliar bedroom, strange men and women surrounding her, talking about her as if she wasn’t there.

  “Baden told us to protect...her?”

  “Maybe he needed protection from her. Let’s lock her in the dungeon.”

  “That’s your answer to everything, Maddox.”

  “Because our enemies are wily.”

  “The girl’s not a danger to anyone, least of all mad, bad Baden.”

  “Speaking of, where is he? Why’d he leave? And why’d he call for Ashlyn?”

  “I can answer your last question right now. He called for me because of my ability. Which means I can answer the other questions as soon as you leave the room...”

  “Not happening, sweetheart. This girl is an unknown and—”

  “I know, I know. Unknowns are our foes. Been there. But Baden isn’t an unknown. You trust him. He would never bring a vicious woman into our home.”

  Katarina tuned out the woman’s sweet voice, the man’s reply, and the myriad of responses that followed. If the group decided
to lock her in the dungeon...whatever. What did she care about another location change?

  Grief enveloped her, choked her.

  Someone picked her up and carried her to the bed. The covers were lightly tucked around her, and one of the women—a plump beauty with light brown hair and matching eyes—stayed when the others exited, sitting beside her and tracing soft fingertips over her brow.

  “My name is Ashlyn. I’m not sure how much you know about the men who live here, but I’m married to one. I have a very special ability that allows me to hear every conversation that’s taken place in a room as long as my husband isn’t with me. As soon as he left us, I heard about your dogs. I’m so sorry for your loss, Katarina.”

  Shut up, she wanted to shout. Maybe the girl had a special ability, like Baden, or maybe there were bugs in the room, and she’d eavesdropped. Either way, the dogs weren’t up for discussion.

  “You’re safe here. You have my word.”

  Katarina closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Well, in and out of sleep, always fitful. She had no idea when Ashlyn took off. The other people visited throughout the day, checking on her, and someone even brought a tray of food. She had no desire to eat. The only thing she wanted to do was continue sleeping. And cry, the way she used to as a child. But as always, no tears were forthcoming, which meant she experienced no cathartic release.

  Eventually the needs of her bladder plagued her. She rose to unsteady legs and shut herself in the spacious en suite. Mosaic tile decorated the floor, the pattern floral but dizzying. The walls were cream-colored stucco, the countertops gold-veined marble, and the shower encased by stone and glass. Behind two white columns was a sunken tub.

  Overall, as luxurious as Alek’s. She laughed without humor. Monsters and their money.

  When she exited, Baden was seated at the edge of the bed. He’d recently showered, his damp hair darker than usual. He stood when he spotted her and held out his hand. “Come. I’ll give you a tour of the fortress.”

  She ignored him, crawled under the covers and fell back to sleep.

  The next time she awoke, she was alone. Alone with her thoughts. Alone with her misery...her memories.