Lords of the Underworld Bundle

by Gena Showalter

  “Stefano, beyond any doubt. Late-night attack, overeager army and semiautomatics. Besides, he’s the one who first captured Danika. He didn’t yet know she was the Eye or he wouldn’t have let her go,” Sabin said, adding tightly, “He’s mine. You see him, you leave him alive.”

  The man wanted to punish Sabin for the part he’d played in his wife’s suicide. That was fine, understandable even. But Stefano kept coming after his men, would never leave them alone, and that wasn’t. Sabin might have turned his back on love, but he valued his men over himself and he would not allow them to be hunted like this. “Gideon, entertainment room. You know what to do.”

  “Nope. I don’t.” Gideon branched off from the group.

  “Kane, north hallway.”

  With a nod, Kane swerved at the next corner. One of the lightbulbs in the chandelier shattered the moment he did so, spraying glass in every direction. There was a hiss, a muttered curse. Then, of course, another bulb exploded.

  Disaster. Couldn’t take him anywhere, and gods knew there was no way to avoid explosions with him around. Poor Lucien.

  “Cameo—” Sabin had tossed a glance over his shoulder. Cameo wasn’t among his remaining warriors. Where the hell was she? Irritated, he ran his tongue over his teeth. The woman had been disappearing more and more lately. “Amun, south hallway.”

  No response. Not even a nod, but Amun changed directions.

  “Two minutes more,” Strider said, “and then the real fun begins. I doubt Lucien and his crew can kill them all outside.”

  Sabin flicked him a glance. “Why two minutes? How do you know?”

  “Internal radar.”

  Before the last word left Strider’s mouth, the sound of glass breaking echoed through the house. Sabin and Strider shared a grin. “Your radar sucks. Begins now, I’m thinking.” He palmed his other gun, the metal a welcome weight in his hand. “West hallway for you, my friend. I’ll take east.”

  Strider nodded, turned on his heel.

  “Be careful.” Sabin rushed forward, steps eating up the distance. Another window shattered, this one just ahead of him. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Little late, Torin, he thought. A moment later, three men swinging from rappel wires sailed through the now paneless window on a gust of wind.

  His hands whipped up, wrists crisscrossed, his fingers hammering at the triggers as his arms moved, left going right, right going left. Boom, boom, boom. The men jerked, screamed and then sagged onto the floor.

  Seeing their dying bodies, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Yet blended with it was the impatient rumble of his demon. Doubt wanted in on the action.

  “Have fun,” he mumbled, and could almost picture the demon rubbing its gnarled hands together in glee.

  His mind was ripped open as the spirit reached across the mental plane, searching for weak thoughts to pounce upon. Well used to the experience, Sabin didn’t even grimace. Good thing. The distraction could have cost him.

  Two other Hunters flew through the window. He shot them as quickly and as effortlessly as he had the others. This was his life—this had always been his life. Fighting, warring, killing. From his earliest memory, he’d known enemies were not to be tolerated. That’s why he’d been created, after all: fighting, warring, killing. And that’s damn sure how he would take his last breath when he finally reached the end of the line. Fighting, warring, killing.

  A rustle sounded behind him.

  Spinning, he fired in quick succession. Two more Hunters fell, collapsing forward, shouting in pain. One of their hands reached out and touched his boot. A grenade rolled from those now-lifeless fingers. The pin had already been pulled. Shit. Quick as a blink, Sabin grabbed it and hurled it out the window, praying he didn’t hurt his friends. But better it detonate outside than in.

  “Fire in the hole,” he shouted.

  Boom.

  So much for preventing explosions. The foundation of the fortress shook. Fire and smoke, screams and the pound of footsteps erupted. A wave of heat billowed into the hallway, blistering his skin. Debris whipped inside, too, and a detached tree limb slapped his face before hitting the floor.

  Sabin made to spring over the bodies, only then realizing that one of the Hunters hadn’t yet died. The man managed to raise his gun, smiling as he muttered, “No mercy. Isn’t that your creed?” He squeezed off a shot.

  The bullet slammed into Sabin’s thigh, stinging. “Motherfucker!” Close-range shots were a bitch, and he knew immediately the muscle was blown to pieces. Grimacing, he unloaded a round into the Hunter’s already broken body, the sound so loud Sabin’s ears rang. “Yes,” he spat. “That’s my creed.”

  The man gasped his last breath a second later as blood trickled from his mouth.

  You’re too weak, Sabin heard Doubt whisper to one of the Hunters outside. The Lords will kill you. Most likely you won’t survive to see another sunrise.

  As clearly as if the Hunter were standing next to him, Sabin heard the man’s reply. No. No. I’m strong. I’ll kill them.

  You’re practically pissing your pants in fear. Fear they can sense. They’ll attack you like an animal. What if they cut you up and mail your bones to your family?

  Used to the stream of doubts, Sabin tuned out the whispers. His head turned left and right, left and right as he backed into the corner beside the broken window. A quick peek out the window—no Hunters about to swing inside. A glance down the hallway—no sign of Hunters there, either.

  Sucking in a breath, he gazed down at his wound, his pants already glued to his skin, a bloody hole staring up at him. Fucking great. He reached down, probed the entrance and nearly screamed. It was worse than he’d thought. Twisting his wrist, reaching behind, he felt the back of his leg. There was another hole. Thankfully, the bullet had left him. Okay. Maybe not so bad, after all.

  He ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt and tied it around his thigh, stanching the blood flow.

  How are your men doing? Lucien’s? You should hope no one dies. The Hunters outnumber you so it’s possible—

  “Shut up,” he commanded the demon who was trying to turn the doubts on him.

  Most of them have trained to keep their minds blank, Doubt whined. Only a few were open to me and they’re now dead.

  The demon needed to hear the thoughts of its victims before it could attack. “Poor baby,” Sabin muttered. “But if you get me killed, you’ll lose everything. Become crazed. Eventually be sucked back into the box.”

  The back of his skull rattled as the demon jolted in horror. No box. No box!

  “Quiet down, then.” Blessedly, the creature obeyed.

  Outside, Sabin could hear the pop and whiz of gunfire, the pained gasps of humans. The slide of steel through skin and bone. He glanced into the night, remaining in the shadows as much as possible. He saw the glint of silver—blades, throwing stars—in the moonlight, arcing through the air before connecting with a target.

  His gaze caught on one of his friends. Maddox was rushing forward, leapt in the air and fell upon a cluster of Hunters. For several seconds, there was a tangle of arms and legs. A blade moved quickly, fluidly, a dance of feral motion. Then there was utter stillness. Had Maddox—

  The warrior pushed to his feet, dislodging lifeless bodies. Maddox turned and motioned to someone with a wave of his fingers. Reyes, who had his arm wrapped around a human female’s waist, stepped into the light, but they were gone a moment later.

  The All-Seeing Eye. Thank the gods I didn’t kill her when I had the chance.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Shit. The patter of footsteps suddenly sounded again, catching Sabin’s attention. Too late. He whipped around. Four Hunters had entered the hallway. “Found one!” he heard as they trained their weapons on him and raced forward.

  “He’s mine. When he recovers from my blows, he’s yours.”

  “I will hurt him. Now, later. This is for my son, demon!”

  A barrage of bullets slammed into him: shoulder,
stomach, next to the fresh wound in his thigh. He’d known better than to allow himself to be distracted. Pushing past the pain, he launched forward with a roar. He fired his semiautomatics until the magazines were emptied, dropped them and spread his arms, bullets continuing to hit him.

  He and the Hunters met in the middle of the hall.

  They crashed together and tumbled to the floor. One of the Hunters cracked his skull into the marble so hard he didn’t move again. The other three withdrew blades and tried to slice at various places on Sabin’s body. But he’d expected the attack and had palmed his own during the fall.

  Humans, no matter how smart, were no match for an immortal’s strength and speed.

  He had their necks gushing before they managed more than a few incisions. Panting, Sabin lumbered to his feet. Dizziness battered against his brain like a drum, and he swayed. This rate, and he might not live to fight Stefano. Much less Galen, if the coward ever showed his face.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, fatigued, weak.

  He must have blacked out, because when he refocused, a human was standing just in front of him—though out of striking distance, he noted. Not just any human, either. Stefano.

  Hate rose like a tidal wave in his chest, but he didn’t have the strength to rise.

  “Knew it was you,” Sabin said. His throat felt raw, as if blood and acid had played Search-and-Destroy with his voice box.

  Stefano tsked under his tongue. “Look at you, Doubt. You must be in pain. How sad.”

  Sabin slowly moved his good arm behind his back, where a dagger dangled from a chain. He could feel the cold metal against his skin.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Stefano said, lifting his own arm and aiming a gun at Sabin’s face.

  Sabin stilled. “We both know you’re not going to kill me.”

  “Perhaps we do. But I have no problem hurting you, taking you to the brink of death. My team includes doctors who know how to save a man who’s only a heartbeat away from extinction.”

  “Aren’t you a sweetie?” Damn, but his head was filled with a sickening fog. A fog that had nothing to do with weakness but everything to do with…drugs? Had Stefano injected him with something while he was unconscious? Sabin wouldn’t put it past the fucker.

  “Yes. Yes, I am. I didn’t slice off your limbs as I wanted. I didn’t carve Darla’s name in your chest.”

  Hearing his lover’s name from this man’s lips was foul. “She hated you, you know? You think I lured her away from you, but the truth is, she ran willingly into my arms.”

  Stefano’s nostrils flared. “Liar! She loved me! She would never have betrayed me. But you and your demon messed with her mind, changed her.” His breath was sawing in and out with the force of his fury. “The last eleven years I’ve prayed and hoped you would take a lover so I could take her from you, but you never did and I’m through waiting. I’ll take your friends, your dignity instead. And ultimately, I’ll take your life.”

  “And such violence will make the world a better place?” he asked dryly. “What of peace and harmony?”

  A tongue over teeth. A change of expression, from anger to composure, as if Sabin’s questions reminded him of his purpose. “Where’s the girl?”

  “Maybe we sold her.” Sabin straightened his fingers, and they brushed the tip of the knife. “Maybe cut her up and had her for breakfast.” Sabin envied Gideon just then, hating that he himself passed out cold every time he tried to lie. Hated that the only way around it was speaking in terms of “maybe” and “probably.” Anyone who knew him knew his tricks.

  Stefano knew him. “Where is she, demon? She has to be nearby. You knew she’d been with us, and wouldn’t want her far from your side.”

  Another wave of dizziness swept the corridors of his mind. Don’t lose control of yourself. Don’t give Stefano the upper hand.

  You’re wounded. He already has the upper hand.

  His jaw clenched. Didn’t we talk about this? If you want to live, demon, you had better turn the waterworks on the Hunter.

  He’s closed his mind. Needs a distraction. Make him think.

  A distraction. “This brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Sabin asked. “We’ve been in this position before, only you were the one wounded. You and your men raided my home in New York, thought to sneak in and take us while we slept. You soon learned the error of your ways. Won yourself a personal introduction to my favorite blade. Got you in the stomach, yes?”

  Stefano’s nostrils flared. “Yes, and you assumed I was dead. Packed up your stuff and moved on, leaving me there to heal, my hatred only growing.”

  Got him, Doubt crowed, then whispered into the Hunter’s mind, All this planning, the loss of men, the expense of firepower, but what if it’s not enough? What if the Lords escape unscathed once again?

  “Tell me about the girl. The truth this time,” Stefano barked. “You wouldn’t have killed her. She is the Eye.”

  “The what now?” He’d known the Hunters had learned of Danika’s ability, but now he wondered just who had told them. “Did you just say she was an eye? Her peepers were nice, but I wouldn’t define the girl by them.”

  Even as he spoke, Doubt continued to fill Stefano’s head. She could be leading the Lords to the third artifact even now. If they find the box first, there will be no way to contain the demons. Sabin will live, and you will one day die.

  Stefano’s eyes narrowed, the hand holding the gun shaking. “Stop that!”

  Sabin blinked innocently, fingers secretly wrapping around his blade. “Stop what?”

  “Stop filling my head with those poisoned thoughts. Is that what you did to Darla? Is that how you killed her?”

  “She killed herself.” He had to be careful. He didn’t want to strike Stefano and cause the man to shoot him in the face. That kind of wound could maim him for eternity. Maybe even kill him. “You look as if your head is about to explode. Anything I can do to help? Like tell you you’re working for a demon?”

  Stefano’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. “Play dumb if you desire. In the end, it won’t save you and it won’t save the girl. And don’t try to sway me with your filthy lies. My leader is an angel and our cause ordained by the heavens.”

  Sabin saw the muscles in the man’s finger twitch and knew the Hunter was only a heartbeat away from pinching the trigger. Angry as he was, he probably didn’t care about keeping Sabin alive any longer.

  His next words confirmed it. “I don’t care what happens to your demon when you’re dead. I want you gone. Punished. Once and for all.”

  Nope, he didn’t care.

  Sabin summoned a reservoir of might, twisted and rolled—and none too soon. A pop echoed, a bullet whizzing past his shoulder, burning, cutting, but thankfully not lodging. Before his opponent had time to squeeze another shot, he jumped up, kicked out his leg and connected with Stefano’s ankles. When the man stumbled to the floor, landing with a thud, Sabin booted the gun out of his hand.

  Somewhere in the background, he could hear the scuff of shoes against marble. Enemy? Or ally?

  Stefano scrambled backward. So badly Sabin wanted to stride forward, slam his palm into the bastard’s nose, cut his neck, something. But the last of his strength had all but deserted him. He was panting, still dizzy, and his muscles were clamping down on his bones, holding him immobile. He could only wait, praying it was his friends who would round the corner.

  “We aren’t finished,” Stefano spat, standing. He looked down the hallway and paled.

  Thank the gods. That meant it was Sabin’s friends who were headed their way. Or one of them, at least. From his periphery he saw Gideon, who was in the process of raising a gun.

  “Sabin,” Gideon called. “Shit! I’m not here for you, man.”

  Obviously seeing no other exit, Stefano raced for the window and dove out. Unless there was a mat waiting for him on the ground, he would die when he hit. He was giving up? That easily?

  Gideon didn’
t stop and check on Sabin. He leapt past him and rushed to the window. Sabin grinned weakly. Trained him well, he thought, black falling over his vision. His knees finally gave out and he slid to the ground.

  “I totally believe what I’m seeing. Fucker was not caught by our favorite friend and his feathered wings.” Pop. Pop. Gideon emptied his gun until there was a click, click, click. “Great! Nailed him.”

  Sabin blinked until his eyes cleared, the immortal responsible for his torment coming into view. There Galen was, long white wings outstretched and flapping delicately as he hovered just outside the window. He was tall, strong and as handsome as ever—as if thousands of years hadn’t passed.

  He was grinning.

  Sabin thought he’d been prepared to see the warrior. Or as ready as he could be, given the shock of Lucien’s revelation tonight. He wasn’t.

  “Now you know,” Galen called, his voice as charismatic and empowering as Sabin remembered. “Now the real fun begins.”

  They were the last words Sabin heard before crumpling into oblivion.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THREE DAYS. Three damn days since Danika and Reyes had left the fortress. They’d traveled on and off, going from plane to stolen car to train, never remaining in one place for long. Just in case. Neither of them wanted to lead Hunters to her family. And as much as it stunk to be on the run again, it was a thousand times better because Reyes was at her side. Surly as he was.

  They hadn’t spoken much. He barked an order every now and then—duck, run, be quiet—but that was the crux of their few conversations. She hadn’t seen any Hunters, but that didn’t mean anything and she lived in constant fear and dread. As usual.

  They slept in cheap motels, always in the same room but never in the same bed. Sometimes, at night, after he’d fortified every exit of their motel room with extra locks, Reyes would barricade himself inside the bathroom. Like now.

  Eyes narrowed, Danika peered at the closed door. She lay on a full-sized bed, the small, dingy room cast in shadows that were interrupted every so often by car lights streaming through the stained red curtains. She’d kicked off the stiff, starchy comforter and had propped herself against the headboard. Waiting. Reyes had been inside that bathroom for half an hour.