The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  Clearly, the line he walked between good and evil had thinned more with every task. He’d thought he’d maintained a strict code: no killing women or innocents, ever. She was both, and still he’d threatened her.

  At least he’d offered her an out.

  What would Katarina do?

  Anger contorted the nymph’s features, only to evaporate like morning dew. She smiled and batted her lashes at him. “Why don’t you steal my virtue instead? You’ll enjoy it more, I promise.”

  An offer to slake his need and clear his head, but he wasn’t the least bit tempted. He wanted the human. Wanted his hands on her, and only her. Wanted her hands on him, and only him. Wanted nothing between them. No clothes, no pain. If he couldn’t have the latter, he would settle for the former.

  Somehow, she’d bewitched him.

  In this situation, she would charm her way to triumph. The problem was, he lacked any sort of charisma. What he did have? The truth.

  “Give me the necklace. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I must.”

  “Or you could walk away,” the nymph said.

  “Last chance.” He gave both weapons a shake. “My woman will reward me for allowing you to live. I want my reward. But if I fail to give the necklace to Hades, I’ll be punished and another warrior will be sent to you.”

  “I’ll hide before—”

  “Wouldn’t matter. Pandora would find you.”

  “Pandora?” The nymph shuddered, her cheeks paling. “Here. Take the necklace and go!”

  18

  “The definition of marriage? When a woman adopts an overgrown man-child who cannot be handled by his parents any longer.”

  —Olivia, fallen Sent One

  KATARINA: 0. BADEN: 1.

  Potrebujem pomoc—I need help.

  Katarina had forgotten her desire to train Baden the instant he’d looked at Fox with yearning—yearning for a woman who wasn’t “weak.” Her pride had taken a serious beating.

  When his expression had projected anger immediately after, she’d deduced the truth. The yearning had stemmed from camaraderie rather than sensuality. As if he’d seen an old friend after years apart, and both looks had been directed at Distrust.

  He hated the demon and rightly so...but perhaps he missed the companionship. Right now, he trusted himself around so few people. With good reason! Hades was doing his best to turn him into a prized pit bull, a fighter whose only instinct was to attack.

  Well, too bad for Hades. Pit bulls were actually gentle giants. When raised right, they were sweethearts through and through.

  Time to up her game, Katarina thought. And she had a plan. A trial by fire. Or rather, a trial by touch.

  Touch was the greatest tool in her arsenal. While Baden used guns and knives to convey a message, she used her hands. Skin-to-fur—or skin-to-skin contact created a bond between two creatures—uh, people. Touch said you are not alone. Touch said I’m here for you.

  And really, she just wanted to get her hands on him again.

  Biscuit and Gravy nipped at her pockets as she led them to the bedroom she’d claimed as her own. A decadent affair with vibrant gold curtains, portraits of kings and queens hung throughout, and hand-carved furniture. She’d just finished baking sugar-free dog cookies, the plastic bags in her pockets stuffed with the crumbles.

  “Sit,” she said, and after each dog obeyed, she passed out treats.

  Before offering another, she asked the boys to shake her hand. “Good job, guys.”

  They devoured the next round, and she thought she might burst with love. Why had she tried so diligently to guard against the pain of another loss? Humans needed love to survive. Love was sustenance. Love was life. The more she poured into others, the more others could pour into her.

  Biscuit licked her hand. Gravy hopped around like a bunny as he tried to bite his brother’s tail, intending to use it as a chew toy. A friendly bout of wrestling broke out. The two exuded more happiness every day, not to mention a more playful spirit and confident outlook.

  She’d begun to think they’d make excellent guard dogs. Schutzhund training worked best with puppies that were calm and confident from the start, who’d been socialized early so that nothing startled them. Not that nervous, unsure dogs couldn’t be trained, but it was often the same as giving a fully-loaded assault rifle to a frightened man whose finger twitched every time he spotted his own shadow. Also, nervous dogs tended to have selective hearing and often ignored their handler’s commands, biting anyone, even their handler, out of fear for their own safety, not out of a desire to protect.

  Biscuit and Gravy probably hadn’t been socialized and might even have a history of abuse, judging by the way they reacted to strangers, but they definitely had the necessary confidence. They also had a high prey drive, which was another essential. The need to find, pursue and capture food. Or, one day, bad guys.

  The two had already excelled at basic obedience training, and though she’d only just begun teaching them to track—toys, treats, and one day, if she decided to take them to the next level, drugs—they’d proven adept at that, too, with a keen sense of smell. Next would come bite work, which would begin as a game.

  In fact, she made everything a game from start to finish. The heavy, padded sleeve she gave them—a prelude to going after a living being—was used as a chew toy. They played tug-of-war with it, driving their excitement level higher and higher. The goal was never to hurt but to hang on to the toy until she told them to release it.

  The key? Redirect their aggression. And love them. Always love them.

  So many people who’d paid for her services had asked how she worked such miracles with dogs. Her answer was twofold. One, she picked her pups from shelters. Adopt don’t shop! Shelter dogs knew a home was a gift. And two, affection gave birth to protection. It was as simple as that.

  Her other dogs, the ones she’d rescued from fighting rings, had needed more affection and reassurance than these two. Even more time. Time that had been as mentally and emotionally exhausting as it had been exhilarating. Another reason she’d had to remain strong after her mother’s death.

  Without strength, we have nothing.

  She’d had something to give.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” she whispered. “And I’m going to give you the life you deserve.”

  They stopped wrestling and peered at her with adoration, as if they’d understood her words. She thought they might be trying to tell her We’re going to take care of you, too.

  They shared a look of...anticipation? Gravy’s head tilted to the side. Biscuit nodded. In unison, they closed in on her. Each nuzzled one of her wrists, and when she tried to turn her hand to pet them, each flashed a pair of fangs—fangs?!—and chomped deep into her vein.

  A torrent of pain! Yelping, she tried to yank free, but the two only clamped on harder. At least the pain faded, replaced by a warm rush of—

  Tristo hrmenych! Was she high? She’d always eschewed drugs, but this fit her brother’s description perfectly—vertigo, a feeling of lightness, as if she could float away like a balloon, a sense of ecstasy, all right in her world. Shit! What was happening to her?

  The dogs released her at last, and she toppled over. Her limbs shook, her bones vibrating. Each of her organs caught fire; the blaze consumed her, sweat soon drenching her. She was dying. She had to be dying. She—

  Fingers snapped in front of her face. She blinked open her eyes to find out she was seated rather than prone. Even more confusing, the pain had left her completely, her skin and clothing dry with no hint of perspiration. The only sign something had happened was the metallic taste in her mouth. Had she bitten her tongue? No, there were no sores on it.

  Galen crouched in front of her, his expression concerned. “Want to tell me what’s wrong with you? You’ve b
een sitting here for at least five minutes, grunting and groaning zombie-style.”

  But...but...only a few seconds had passed. Right? “I’m fine.” Her throat burned, as if she hadn’t used it for days, maybe weeks. She shook her head to scatter any lingering hints of lightness.

  Biscuit and Gravy were seated at her side, calmly watching the warrior. For one crazy moment, Katarina imagined she felt their dislike for the man—stranger!—and their unbending determination to protect their silly human.

  Frowning, Katarina held up her arms, turning her hands in the light. Her wrists were normal. There was no evidence of a wound, not even a bruise. She’d imagined the bite?

  “I’m fine,” she repeated. “Really.” Maybe she’d fallen asleep and dreamed the bite. Or hallucinated? Totally possible. She was semi-dating an immortal warrior. Weirder stuff happened every day. “What are you doing here?”

  “I fixed lunch. My specialty. Ham sandwiches.”

  Lunch? She hadn’t missed minutes, but hours. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” Her stomach was too busy twisting into thousands of little knots.

  “All right.” Galen stood with fluid grace. “I’ll put one in the fridge in case you change your mind. If I get hungry later, well, every man for himself. You had your chance.”

  “You are too kind.”

  “I know. And now that I’ve buttered you up...”

  The meaning of the phrase eluded her. Buttered up? “Are you hitting on me?”

  Galen wiggled his brows at her. “You wish. I’m hoping to convince you to talk to Baden about helping Fox deal with Distrust.”

  “She’s having problems?”

  “Only every day.”

  Compassion stirred, but so did the memory of Katarina’s introduction to Galen. He’d threatened her. She said, “If you call me your sweet doodlepop from now on, I will consider thinking about maybe mentioning the woman to Baden.”

  He grinned at her. “I hope you’re this way with the redhead...doodlepop.” He saluted her before exiting the room, sealing her inside with the dogs.

  For the next several hours, she busied herself with the rest of the day’s training, determined not to think about what happened. Or what hadn’t happened. Whatever! When one of the boys began to pee or poop, she barked out a firm command to stop and escorted the two outside, offering a reward whenever they finished their business in the grass.

  The house—palace—had a million rooms, every corner offering a new hallway to lose yourself, so she always stuck to the same path. A straight shot downstairs, through the kitchen, the laundry room and finally a sunroom. The backyard was fenced by a tall wall made of gold, steel and iron. The grass, bushes and array of flowers were perfectly manicured, and a myriad of trees provided shade from a glaring sun.

  When training ended, she stayed outside, letting the boys run wild as she created a mental shopping list. Doggy door, organic food, tags for the collars, stronger leashes, urine neutralizer spray and toys.

  —Toys—

  The unfamiliar voice registered, along with the fact that the word had been spoken in a language she’d never learned or even heard before, and yet she’d understood it. Brows knitting together, she spun in a circle. No one stood around her.

  But both dogs stiffened.

  —Demon girl comes—

  Again, the unfamiliar voice took her by surprise. This time, however, she realized the words had been spoken inside her head. But they didn’t originate with her and the only other beings with her... She looked at the dogs. No, no. Impossible...yes?

  The dogs scurried in front of her as she pivoted. Biscuit growled at Fox, who opened the door and leaned against the frame, and Katarina actually felt his burst of anger. This is weirder than weird.

  “You’re good with them,” Fox said.

  “I love them,” she replied. It was as simple as that.

  Both Biscuit and Gravy smiled up at her, as if they’d understood her words. Did they?

  Fox rubbed her temple. “Do you love Baden? Wait. You know what? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I won’t believe you.” She laughed, the amusement tinged with bitterness. “The demon, you know.”

  Katarina petted the boys behind their ears. “It comes with a heaping side of paranoia, does it?”

  “If you knew the number of conspiracy theories I have running through my head at any given time...”

  “Are you hoping Baden will take the demon back?” Because, even if he agreed to it, Katarina would fight tooth and nail to stop the repossession. The man had enough to deal with already.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  Compassion welled a second time. More than before. Katarina couldn’t do much to help the girl, but she could offer a distraction. “Since you’re here, I could use your help gathering a few supplies for the dogs.”

  “Give me a list, and I’ll round up everything personally.”

  “Wonderful.” She voiced everything she wanted. “But, uh, I also need a few personal items.” To begin her seduction—training—of Baden. “Like a masseuse.”

  “Not a problem. I have one on staff.”

  Even better. “Does he...she?...have a portable table?”

  “He. And yes.”

  A male. The best-case scenario. “I also need lingerie. A lot of lingerie, and make sure it’s super slutty. Something you’d imagine a prostitute would wear. High class! No, scratch that. Low class. Oh, and I need toiletries. Preferably vanilla scented. And condoms. A lot of condoms. Those don’t need to smell like vanilla. A swimsuit—do you have a pool? Never mind, doesn’t matter. A string bikini. Shouldn’t you be writing these down?”

  —We fetch for you?—

  An-n-nd there was the unfamiliar voice, louder and clearer than before. She peered down at the dogs. Both stared at her expectantly, waiting for her response.

  They were speaking to her, weren’t they?

  Such a daft thought and yet, the suspicion niggled at her.

  “No,” she told them, just in case. “No need to fetch.”

  They sighed with disappointment.

  “You converse with your dogs?” Fox asked, frowning.

  “You don’t?”

  The woman smoothed her dark hair from her cheek while giving Katarina the dreaded side-eye. “I’ll have the items delivered to you by the end of the day.”

  “Or sooner.” Baden could return at any moment. “Like, say, within the next two hours sooner.”

  “I’ll do what I can. Just...don’t hurt the warrior. If you do—”

  “I won’t.”

  “But if you do—”

  “I really won’t. I...like him.”

  “—I’ll kill you,” Fox finished.

  As the dogs growled at her, she turned on her heel and strode off.

  Katarina kneeled to pet and praise her students. They’d sensed a threat and reacted, remaining calm, staying by her side. Now they wagged their tails and kissed her liberally.

  This world she found herself in was different than any she’d ever known, but this, these dogs, they were her norm. And Baden...he was just hers. For now.

  * * *

  Baden flashed to Hades. The king sat upon his throne, dictating instructions to Pippin, who stood beside him, chiseling in the stone tablet.

  “—head removed, limbs severed, chest opened and—” Noticing Baden, Hades changed course. “Well?”

  Baden tossed the cœur de la terre at him. “Another point.”

  “Excellent.” Hades anchored the chain around his wrist, regarding Baden with something akin to anger. “Did you hurt the Harpies?”

  “No. There was no need.”

  Hades relaxed, but only slightly. “Every detail. Now.”

  The story spil
led from him, ending with the shadows chasing the Harpies away.

  “The shadows...they are minions of Corruption, yes?” A demon High Lord with the ability to mate with any willing human spirit. He derived pleasure only when he ruined a good person.

  Hades worked two fingers over his stubbly jaw, as if debating his next words. “They are, their evil conceived inside the human heart.”

  Destruction had gotten it right. And now, without the heat of battle, he was...not pleased. He bore the seed of Corruption in his flesh.

  “Why so grim?” Hades asked. “The wreaths make you immune to their particular brand of feeding. They only wish to protect you, their host. And to consume your enemies, of course.”

  True—for now. But Corruption, like any evil, would one day turn on its host. That was a guarantee. “What happens when I win your game and the wreaths are removed?”

  An enigmatic smile. “You still won’t have to worry.”

  Because he wouldn’t survive the removal?

  No. He and Hades shared a bond, and neither of them could deny it. The answer, whatever it was, simply wasn’t clear to him yet.

  “Pippin.” Hades brushed a piece of lint from his knee. “Did I decide to punish or forgive my charges for breaking the rules and fighting with each other?”

  “Forgive, sire.”

  Hades’s shoulders rolled in with disappointment. “Very well. I never refute my own decisions.”

  “Except for the ones you refute, sire.”

  “This is true. You get me, Pippin. It’s why I haven’t fired you today.”

  “We still have several hours to go, sire.”

  Baden butted in, saying, “Give me another task.”

  Hades regarded him for a moment. “So eager to defeat Pandora?”

  “So eager to defeat Lucifer.”

  Approval glinted in the king’s black eyes. “We’re closer to victory every day.” With a flick of his fingers, he waved Baden away. “Go now. Rest while you can.”

  There was no rest for the wicked. He had another piece of business to attend to—severing Katarina’s tie to Aleksander at long last.