The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  Lucifer tries again, the beast snarled.

  And he will fail again.

  A toddler-size creature with eight legs dropped from the ceiling. It had been waiting for prey. Its mouth stretched wide, creating a cavernous hole big enough to fit a watermelon—or Baden’s head. Its teeth were small but sharp and buzzed like a motorized saw.

  Two quick shots, one to its eye and one to its mouth. Bits of enamel flew through the air like shrapnel. As Baden raced past it, he slashed through its head with the axes, ending its fight.

  Inside the bedroom, four furry creatures dragged a bloody Pandora to the far wall, the tips of their legs as sharp as daggers. Daggers they shoved into her shoulders, torso and legs. Even under her serpentine wreaths, preventing the metal from touching her skin.

  She was pinned in place. Warrior that she was, she continued to struggle using the only weapon she had left—her teeth. She bit at her captors, ripping off an ear then the tip of a chin. The taste of blood frenzied her. She fought for more.

  Rage flared. Baden wasn’t fond of Pandora, but no one else would ever be allowed to harm her.

  Red eyes lit on him. Smaller creatures clawed free from the fur of the larger ones, cackling with glee. Considered him an easy target, did they?

  They would learn.

  As Baden strode deeper into the room, he crossed his arms at the elbows and slowly pulled them apart. His fingers remained on the triggers until his body formed a T, ensuring a steady stream of bullets sprayed. The creatures merely absorbed the hits and launched at him.

  He twirled the guns so that he gripped the barrels. Slash, slash, slash. The axes removed multiple legs and even more daggered tips.

  A sharp pain between his shoulders, followed quickly by another.

  He ducked, twirling the guns once again and firing off another round. The creatures flew backward, screeching.

  Destruction fought to take over, claws springing from the ends of Baden’s fingers. The marks in his arms began to burn, as if doused with acid. Shadows began to rise.

  All threats will die!

  “Behind you!” Pandora shouted.

  He spun—and took a dagger across the cheek. A hard push came next, flinging him across the room. He slammed into a wall. More disoriented than he should be. Dizzy. A ringing in his ears.

  His surroundings blurred. He caught the scent of vanilla. Home?

  No, he hadn’t flashed unintentionally. He remained in the room with Pandora, had scented Katarina on his skin.

  Poisoned claws, Destruction told him. I’ll burn it out.

  A moment later, he felt as if he’d swallowed a branding iron. As he lumbered to his feet, strength restored, another dagger was shoved under both of his bands. The marks cooled, the shadows thinned. The dizziness returned. Suddenly eight distinct voices rushed his mind with desires so sick and twisted he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to cleanse their taint.

  That kind of evil...it wasn’t a gift, even if it saved him for a short time. Even if it seemed to protect him. The Sent Ones had spoken true. Evil infected. Evil ruined. Destruction had been able to contain it, but as this proved, even Destruction had his limits.

  The beast had gone quiet.

  The bands needed contact with his skin to work? Before Katarina, Baden would have wondered why. After last night, he knew the power of a simple touch. Knew the strength of the bond it created. The absolute sense of connection.

  He slashed through the offending legs and yanked the daggers out from under the bands—Destruction roared, the other voices diminishing—but another creature lashed out at him...and another...and another. They came from every direction. Anytime he felled one, two more took its place, the goal always to shove more daggers under the bands.

  When Destruction went quiet, the other voices once again filled his head with those disgusting desires. He fought so fervently, foam actually dripped from the corners of his mouth. But all the while, he continued hacking at the legs that bound him.

  Finally! Free! He rolled toward Pandora.

  If one warrior could put down ten of these creatures, two warriors could put down a hundred.

  Despite her obvious pain, she struggled against her captors. Black blood leaked from her eyes, nose and ears, as if the thoughts inside her head were too much to bear.

  “Behind you,” she repeated, her voice weaker now.

  He went low and twisted, firing the guns.

  Click, click, click.

  Out of bullets. Fine. He hacked at the creatures closest to him until they were nothing but bits and pieces and dove, using those pieces as a wall to block any oncoming stragglers. Midair, he ejected the empty cartridges and slammed the handles into new ones. When he landed, he popped to his feet and shot the creatures around Pandora.

  They fell away from her as their legs detached from their bodies, but their daggers remained under her bands. She fought to remove them, but all too soon her knees gave out, and she collapsed.

  Even writhing on the floor, she worked at the daggers, finally removing the last. She cried out with relief, the shadows springing from her arms.

  With a hiss, they leaped at the creatures—now backing up. But not fully retreating. More amassed in the room, covering the ceiling, the walls, the floor, creating a sea of evil.

  A war cry sounded amid the crowd. Creatures and shadows leaped into action and collided.

  Baden yanked the remaining daggers out from under his own bands. When the last one slid free, his shadows joined the fray, Destruction now huffing and puffing.

  His gaze met Pandora’s as he extended a hand in her direction. She hesitated only a second before accepting.

  He hefted her to her feet, asking, “Aleksander?”

  “Taken.”

  He tried to flash to him, but failed. Too weak? He gathered his strength and tried again...failed again. Perhaps Aleksander had been killed?

  A man could hope. “The coin?”

  “No,” she said, as though pulling the word through a lethal obstacle course. “I was unsuccessful.”

  A scream pierced the air. A limb plopped to the floor and black goo sprayed. The shadows were ravenous; he could feel the sharp pangs of their starvation as they feasted on the demons like the savages they were. Their teeth ghosted inside the creatures to rip at their spirits. Because that’s what the shadows were. Spirit. Like to like. But what happened to the spirit must manifest in the body, the two connected; the creatures began to lose hunks of bone, muscle and skin.

  They were being devoured from the inside out.

  Sitting back and watching wasn’t in Baden’s nature. He was cut up and seeping his own black-as-night substance—were there specks of red mixed in?—but he dove into the heart of the battle, slashing, slashing, slashing. Pandora took a position at his six, stopping any ambush from behind.

  We are...working together?

  When the last creature was slain, the shadows returned to him and Pandora, sinking back into their proper places.

  She hunched over. Panting, she said, “I could have...won without you.”

  “Yes. I’m sure. You could have won a second death.”

  She pursed her lips. “We need to retrieve the human.”

  “We?”

  “A mistake,” she rushed out. “I meant me. I’ll retrieve Alek on my own.”

  “You won’t. You had your night,” he said. “Now he’s mine.”

  “Bastard! You had more than a night and got less out of him. I think...” She gasped, closed her eyes to hide the disgust suddenly growing there. “I think we need to work together.”

  He didn’t trust her. Even without Distrust coloring his thoughts, he would never trust her. Not fully. But...she was right. “Now isn’t the time to go after him. There’s no telling what kind of combat sit
uation we’d face.”

  “So? He’s weakened.”

  “We’re weakened. Most likely the ones who took him are not.” The truth was the truth, no matter how much he hated it. “I’m not giving him another opportunity to walk away. Or even to crawl. Next time, he loses.” Everything.

  She thought for a moment, reluctantly nodded. “We could use the wife to draw him—”

  “No!” A roar. A threat, if she was smart enough to hear it. “You won’t turn your sights to her or our dogs. And you won’t use that title in reference to her, either.”

  “Title? You mean wife?”

  She’s mine! “Swear it or our truce is null and void.”

  She arched a dark brow. “We have a truce?”

  “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

  She snorted. “Fine. Whatever. I swear it.” She straightened, scrubbing a shaky hand down her face. “I never thought you’d commit to anyone, much less a human.”

  He could say the same. Humans were feeble, easily killed. And now, with as many enemies as Baden had racked up, he might as well paint a target on Katarina’s back. If he wed her—bonded his life to hers as Puck had bonded his life to Gilly—she could become immortal, but would she also become a slave to Hades?

  He couldn’t risk it. There had to be another way.

  One task at a time. First up: healing so that he was strong enough to protect her. “Have you learned to use a cell phone?”

  “Am I a better warrior than you?” she replied drily.

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “It’s a yes!”

  He rattled off his number and stood to unsteady legs. “If Lucifer sends another ambush, let me know.”

  “Planning to save the day?” she sneered.

  “You mean again? Yes.”

  She spun, kicking him in the stomach, but there was no actual anger to the strike and he simply lost his breath for a moment. “Bastard.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Pussy.”

  “Failure.”

  They peered at each other in silence, and he would have sworn the corners of her lips twitched, as if she was fighting a grin. “I’ll text if I’m attacked,” she said. “Or when I’m fully healed, whichever comes first.”

  “Until next time...” he said, and flashed away without problem.

  23

  “I mixed a vial of poison, called it Kindness...and killed people with Kindness.”

  —Josephina, Queen of the Fae

  KATARINA PRAISED BISCUIT and Gravy liberally. They excelled at every game she initiated. Flirt pole. Fetch and catch. Hide-and-seek. Tug-of-war. But...did they excel too much?

  Are they hellhounds or aren’t they?

  At every turn, the two maintained a high level of excitement and determination to win. They remained focused and never entered any of the emotional danger zones: anger, nervousness or fear.

  Galen and Fox avoided her bedroom and the backyard, which was a good thing—for them. The more time that passed without Baden, the more Katarina’s stomach churned. The more her stomach churned, the snappier she became. The snappier she became, the more aggrieved the dogs became.

  She wanted her man home safe. She even wanted the beast home safe. The beast—who was a manifestation of Hades’s tortured childhood. She’d never thought she would sympathize with the dark king who pulled Baden’s strings. Or that she would fall prey to the old he’s just misunderstood, I should run to him not from him...should give him a hug.

  I want to hug him!

  But. Despite her sympathy, she would never allow him to harm her pups.

  “Are you hellhounds?” she finally asked as she stored the tug-of-war sleeve in a box at the foot of the bed. “You can tell me the truth.”

  —Play! Play!—

  “Did you bite me? And if so, why didn’t you feed on me?” Because they loved her? Love could overcome a multitude of compulsions. “Am I going to morph into one of your kind?”

  —Toy!—

  Biscuit scratched at the box. When that failed, he nosed the lid.

  “Sit,” she commanded, and both pups sat after only a slight hesitation.

  Either they were too innocent to understand what she’d asked, or they didn’t want to admit the truth.

  “Where are your parents? Were they...killed? Are you on your own?”

  Both ducked their heads, radiating sadness.

  “You’re not alone,” she told them. “You’ve got me. And I’ll love you even if you infected me, all right?”

  Baden appeared in a flash of light, startling her. She pressed her lips together in a guilty line. The dogs didn’t act surprised, at least, as if they’d sensed him; they simply watched him. But the real wonder? They remained in place, waiting for her command to rise. Such fast learners!

  As she took in Baden’s poor condition, a cry of dismay left her. He looked as if he’d been pitted against other junkyard dogs. His face, neck and arms were cut and bruised and caked with something thick and black that reeked of sulfur. His clothes were torn, and his limbs trembling.

  She rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist, offering support and comfort. “What happened?” She led him to the bed, determination giving her enough strength to hold him up when his knees buckled—the same strength Destruction had considered killing her for having.

  She eased Baden onto the mattress and sat beside him, unwilling to stray from his side.

  “Ambush,” he said with a grimace.

  “And Alek?”

  “Captured by Lucifer’s minions. I don’t know whether he’s dead or alive.”

  “What does Lucifer want with him?”

  “The coin, I’m sure.”

  “But why? He already has a kingdom in the underworld.”

  “What’s better than one kingdom? Two.” Baden scrubbed a hand down his face. “He must be stopped, whatever the cost.”

  No. Not “whatever the cost.” Baden’s soul was more important than victory.

  —You need help?—

  “Yes,” she replied without thought. “Go get Galen. Do you remember him? The blond man with mini-wings.” A simple wash wasn’t going to help Baden. Not this time. She’d tended wounds of her own and wounds on her animals, but had no experience tending to an immortal. “Please.”

  The dogs bounded off, and she knew they’d understood her.

  “They can follow such a specific order?” Baden asked with a frown.

  “Yeah, I’m that good.” And, uh, they might be hellhounds, with powers beyond my understanding.

  He frowned, staring at the door. Trying to unravel the puzzle? “Call them back,” he finally said. “I don’t want Galen—”

  “Let me stop you right there. I don’t actually care what you want. Your well-being is more important than your reason for avoiding the man.” Whatever that reason happened to be. “He can help you. I can’t.”

  “He’s an asshole,” Baden muttered.

  “You should adore him. You are an asshole.”

  As he glared at her, his pupils expanded, black with pinpricks of red. Destruction was making his presence known, and she couldn’t have been happier, her relief palpable. If he had the strength to argue with her, to properly display his emotions, he had the strength to recover from his wounds.

  And he had to recover.

  To lighten the mood, she reached out to caress his cheek, just under the worst of the gashes. “Poor Baduction. You hurt your moneymaker.”

  His glare softened at the edges. “Are you saying you like the look of me?”

  She chuckled as if he’d just told a joke. “I’m saying I have an Outlander fantasy you have yet to fulfill.”

  The glare returned full force, and he actually
snarled at her. “I learned the reference. I will only ever pretend to be me, and you’ll thank me for it.”

  Yes. She probably would. “I don’t think you have to pretend to be you, pekný.”

  “You know what I meant,” he grumbled.

  So adorable. She liked this man. Liked liked. A lot. He was stubborn and grumpy and he had those murderous tendencies thanks to Destruction, but he could make her laugh when no one else was able.

  Wow. He makes me laugh? Way to reach for the stars.

  Well...he could turn her on with a single look. He challenged her and delighted her. And maybe she had a wild side she’d never before acknowledged or maybe she was just getting used to his world, because she liked that he would go to any means necessary to protect what he loved.

  He doesn’t love me.

  But...I might be falling for him.

  Tristo hrmenych! That wasn’t a good thing. He would never age, but she would—yes? Despite the possible hellhound thing. Also, all the women his friends had picked were hardcore warriors, no matter how delicate they appeared. Katarina had sensed Ashlyn would morph into a snarling ogre if ever her children were threatened.

  Baduction still considered Katarina weak.

  I’m someone, damn it. I’m plucky!

  “Are you hurt?” Baden asked, drawing her from her musings.

  “No.” She hooked a lock of hair behind his ear, connecting with him through touch. “Why?”

  “You grimaced.”

  Galen saved her from having to think up a reply by stumbling into the room. Biscuit shoved his muzzle into one leg and Gravy shoved his muzzle into the other to nudge Galen closer. Both canines stopped and panted, tongues hanging out of their mouths, only when Galen stood within reach of Katarina.

  “Such good babies,” she praised.

  Scowling, Galen said, “If your dogs ever come after me again, I’ll—”

  Katarina leaped to her feet, the dogs jumping in front of her. His jaw dropped as she growled at him. Literally growled. Her gums burned. So did the ends of her fingers and even the ends of her toes, but she ignored the painful sensations, keeping her gaze locked on Galen.