The Darkest Secret lotu-8

by Джена Шоуолтер

  She would have to jump into their midst.

  A strange turn of events, one she’d never seen coming. She’d fought all her life to stay alive, to avoid the sting of death and rebirth. Not this time, though. Better to die herself than to allow Hate to live. Better to die herself than to allow Amun to be hurt. She’d hurt him enough. She loved him more than her own life. More than that, she owed him. Hell, she owed his friends. They’d lost one brother because of her. She wouldn’t be the cause of Amun’s loss.

  Though she trembled, knowing deep down that this was going to hurt her more than it would hurt Hate, Haidee focused on Amun. On his thoughts. They weren’t touching, but he was too busy to block her and soon she heard a whirl of commands, absorbed his knowledge and his fury, all the while sifting though the massive influx to find what she needed — the urgings of his demon.

  There! Suddenly she knew what Hate planned, three moves in advance. She watched. Waited. Amun was so focused on his opponent, he paid her invasion — and her intentions — no heed. She counted down…still watching…still waiting…finally launching herself into the fray. She plowed into Hate just as he reappeared, her head connecting with his middle and her hands wrapping around his neck. They were skin to skin as they plummeted to the ground. Better yet, they were out of Amun’s range.

  The moment they hit, she unleashed the cold. Hate screamed as ice formed on his heated body, connecting them, and he was unable to jerk away.

  Haidee, she heard Amun scream inside her head.

  She tuned him out, concentrating fully on her task. When she’d taken those demons from Amun, she’d had to lower her guard. She’d had to stop fighting him and let him in. Welcome him. She did that now, with Hate. Lowered her guard. Fighting him no longer.

  She wanted his demon, and she would have it.

  At first, the demon — that hot, hot darkness inside him, scaled, with glowing red eyes — ran from her as the demons she’d absorbed had done. She was having none of that, however, and gave chase, the ice spreading. Soon there was nowhere else for the terrified demon to run. She had consumed Hate’s entire body.

  She latched on to a sharpened claw. At the first moment of contact, pain exploded through her. She wanted to balk, to jump as far away as she could, but she merely held on tighter, heaving the being from Hate’s body into hers. Tug-of-war, and she would win.

  Despite the ice, Hate thrashed against her, pushed against her. Still she held on, still she tugged. Then that ice began to melt, leaving her. Just as before, fire bloomed in its place, spreading, and acid started flowing through her veins. Spiderwebs winked through her vision, and dizziness bombarded her.

  The darkness that had been a part of her for centuries cried out in welcome as the demon High Lord slipped into her little by little. No longer did she have to tug. The demon wanted inside her now, was even aiding her, desperate to crawl in, to be whole again.

  Almost over, she thought, hurting so badly tears were streaking down her cheeks.

  Suddenly there was a pain of another kind tearing through her neck, her back — Amun started shouting again, perhaps crying, but she hardly noticed. Her insides were too busy burning to ash.

  And then she was being pulled away from the former keeper of Hate. She didn’t protest; she had the demon now. All of the demon, and it was zipping through her mind, banging into her skull, filling her up, consuming her.

  Haidee, sweetheart. Please. Let me see those beautiful eyes.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and she saw that Amun was looming over her, bathed in red. Blood? But blood had never glowed like that before.

  Sweetheart, oh, gods, sweetheart. He’d never looked so tormented.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but something warm flowed from her mouth rather than words. Is he dead? She didn’t have the strength to push the words into his mind, but somehow he heard her anyway.

  Yes, sweetheart, he’s dead. Tears glistened in his black gaze.

  You’re sad? Don’t be sad, baby. We won. She tried to reach up, to brush those tears away, but again, she didn’t have the strength.

  Oh, sweetheart. Soft fingers smoothed her brow.

  Her heartbeat was slowing, then fluttering, almost nonexistent. Thankfully, though, the cold was returning to her limbs, dousing the fire. Once the ice returned, she thought, she could expel the demon, right? And she and Amun could be together.

  Amun had feared she wouldn’t be able to expel the demon, that he would forever be a part of her. If that were the case, she would deal.

  He…fought you. He ravaged your throat.

  She blinked, not understanding. Sweetheart, you’re…fading.

  Fading? The red glow bathing his face was dimming. Did that mean… I’m…dying?

  No! I’ll do something. There has to be something. Amun leapt into motion, dragging the backpack next to her. With shaky hands, he reached inside and withdrew bandages and other materials to try and save her. Stay with me, sweetheart. Okay?

  She was. She was dying.

  She tried to obey him, she really did. Not because she feared the pain that awaited her, but because she wanted to be with this man always. She didn’t want him hurt by images of her death the way she’d been hurt by images of her family. So she fought the cold, the weakness. And while she fought, she realized she could expunge the demon, because a scaled, fanged and clawed creature rose from her skin, its eyes bright red.

  Amun watched, horrified. She watched, too, amazed that she hadn’t had to corner him and force him out. Amazed that she didn’t hurt anymore. But when the beast darted out of the cave, roaring hysterically, she found there was nothing left to tether her to her body. Darkness was pulling at her.

  Her organs were shutting down, the ice that had saved her now killing her. She knew the feeling well. Had experienced it hundreds of times before. This was the end of her.

  I love you, she told Amun.

  He never stopped bandaging her wounds. Then stay, damn it. Fight this. Haidee! Do you hear me? Don’t you dare leave me!

  I love you, she repeated, and then, because she couldn’t fight any longer, she allowed herself to be pulled the rest of the way into the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Amun was going crazy. Haidee had died. Died. Her heart had stopped, her ruined body had gone still and her eyes had glazed. She’d had no breath left inside her lungs, even when he’d pumped at her chest for hours, her blood all over his hands. And then she’d disappeared. Simply vanished, as if she’d never existed.

  He screamed for hours more — and Secrets screamed along with him.

  While Amun had been making love with Haidee that second time, the demon had realized that she would never hurt them, no matter how powerful she was. That she would always strive to make life better for them.

  With the realization, affection for her had grown. Not just because she possessed so many secrets, but because of her. Even though she was a demon-slayer, a justice-dealer, she was the demon’s favorite playground.

  How could Themis have sentenced such a precious female to die? Where was the justice in such a vile action?

  Amun was suddenly happy the goddess was currently rotting in Tartarus with the rest of the Greeks. After everything she’d done, she deserved that and more.

  Only, if she hadn’t acted, Amun never would have had this second chance with Haidee. Or even met her at all. She was a gift. His gift. And he’d failed her. In every way that mattered, he’d failed her. Twice she’d died because of him. And she hated to die, feared the pain, the loss of her memories.

  My fault, he thought.

  The first time had been an accident on his part. This second time, she had rushed headlong into danger to save him. He’d been too focused on slaying their enemy to take note of her plan. Foolish of him. He was the keeper of Secrets, damn it! He should have guessed her intentions, and he should have stopped her.

  When she had locked on Hate, Amun hadn’t known what to do or how to separate them. All Secrets
had known was that breaking the link between the pair would hurt Haidee far more than letting her finish drawing the demon into herself. But then Hate had begun fighting her, chomping at her, clawing at her, and Amun hadn’t cared about her pain — he’d cared only about saving her life. He’d ripped them apart.

  But he was too late.

  The wound in Haidee’s neck had been fatal.

  Amun paced. If he summoned the angel, Zacharel, he would be escorted home. His demon knew this, sensed it now as if the knowledge had always been there, yet Amun could not force himself to do so. This was the last place he’d seen Haidee, the last place he’d held her, tasted her, and he didn’t want to leave just yet, didn’t want to give up the sweet scent of her that lingered in the air or the chill of her that was wrapped around him like a cloak.

  He needed to formulate a plan. Without interference from his friends.

  Haidee had told him not to try to find her cave. That, he would ignore. He would find that cave. He would help her through those waves of hate. If she still possessed any hint of the demon inside her, that is. The creature had risen from her, and had seemed intact. Nothing missing.

  But even without the demon, she wouldn’t stay dead. She’d said so herself. She would come back to him.

  And if she was without even that small piece, she could very well remember him.

  Suddenly hope welled within him. First, he had to find her. And he would. She was out there. She had to be out there. If she didn’t remember him and fought him, he would let her go, wouldn’t hurt her, even to save himself. But then what? What if she returned to the Hunters?

  He would just have to follow her, guard her from a distance. He’d slipped past her defenses once. He could do so again.

  All he had to do was reach her.

  Decided on his course of action, he grabbed the backpack and at last shouted for Zacharel in his mind. A few seconds later, as expected, the angel appeared. No bright light, just blink, and the winged warrior was there. Those wings arched over the wide expanse of his shoulders, white threaded with gold. He still wore a colorless robe, his dark hair slicked back from his face.

  Those brilliant green eyes regarded Amun with satisfaction. «And so you are saved.»

  Yes, he signed. Now take me to my woman.

  His demand elicited a single shake of that dark head. There was no sorrow in the angel’s expression. No emotion whatsoever. «I cannot do so. She is dead.»

  So simply stated. Amun almost pounded over and stabbed the bastard in the heart. She will be reanimated in Greece. You will take me to her. Now.

  «No. She is not in Greece.»

  Yes. She is.

  Still emotionless, the angel said, «When she drew the rest of Hate inside her, the demon reformed in its entirety. When she released it, she released every bit of it, even the part that had bonded to her. A bond that was never supposed to happen. She was supposed to draw and release. But because she did bond, she could no longer live without Hate. Just as you cannot live without your demon.» The layer of truth in his voice was devastating. «This, you already know.»

  Still he fought the very idea of it. She’s alive, I tell you. Aeron died, but then he lived.

  «Amun, Haidee had already died. She was already a soul, like those in the heavens and hell. A soul that has now withered once and for all, its source of life gone.»

  No! She’s out there. She’s alive. She had to be. Souls reanimate in hell. I’ve seen them. You said so yourself.

  «Those souls never bonded to a demon. Never then lost that demon.»

  No! he repeated. She was blessed by a goddess.

  «A goddess who later turned her back.»

  Haidee is alive, damn you. A blessing is a blessing, and cannot be taken back.

  «Just as the favored cannot fall into disfavor and be kicked from the heavens?»

  That is not the same, and you know it. Why did she keep coming back to life after the goddess turned her back, then?

  «Because she was still intact. This time, she was not. I can take you to her cave, if you’d like. Though I warn you now, it is empty. I checked, just to be sure.»

  He didn’t panic. Yet. He concentrated on his breathing, on drawing the still-chilled air through his nose, letting it fill his lungs, clear his mind. But with the breath, his demon — who didn’t like the angel, but couldn’t stay out of his head, searching for answers — at last discerned what was the fantasy Amun desired and what was the reality he feared.

  Haidee had not returned to Greece.

  There was no way to save her.

  She. Was. Dead.

  Forever.

  Zacharel had spoken the truth. As always.

  A roar nearly split Amun’s head in two. He gripped his ears, trying to block the noise. That didn’t help. On and on the roar tormented him. His eardrums shattered. Blood leaked onto his shoulders. Eventually, his knees gave out. He fell to the ground, hot tears springing into his eyes. No. No, no, no. She couldn’t be dead.

  She was dead.

  She is waiting for me in her cave.

  She wasn’t waiting for him in her cave.

  She will remember me.

  She would remember nothing. She was dead. Now, always.

  Any illusion he tried to create, his demon instantly destroyed. In that moment, he hated his demon. Hated so much he could have been possessed by the essence of the demon Haidee had harbored inside her. The truth…oh, gods, the truth. Nothing had ever hurt him so intensely. She was dead, she was dead, she was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back.

  She shouldn’t have died. He should have died.

  Why hadn’t he died?

  Other questions swirled through the crushing grief, and he found himself glaring up at the angel. Did you know she would…that she would end up that way when you brought us here?

  «Of course,» Zacharel offered without any hesitation. «Her death was the only way to save you.»

  No reaction. Not yet. What do you mean? She had pulled the demons from Amun and successfully released them, all without messing with Secrets. Afterward, she had been healthy, whole. Until Hate. But Hate had not been a part of Amun. So, after healing him, she could have walked away.

  Oh, gods. She could have walked away.

  If he had called for Zacharel then…

  «Have you not realized yet? You never needed to visit hell to release those demons. You had only to learn to trust each other. That was the only way Haidee could discover the truth about her abilities. That was the only way you would let her close enough to use those abilities on you.»

  Then why did you send us here? Why? I would rather have died myself. Me!

  «You were sent here because nothing draws people together faster than perilous situations. More than that, I was not told to save Haidee. Only you.»

  But she didn’t have to die. His motions were jerky now. We could have left before Hate found her. You could have swooped in.

  «She was going to die whether Hate found her or not. She loved you. Eventually, that love would have weakened her demon. Just as your demon feeds on secrets, hers fed on hate. Ultimately, that love would have killed her.»

  No. She loved before. Others loved her.

  «Did she? Did they? No, she did not. No, they did not. Many overcame their dislike for her, some even came to care for her, but no one loved her with their whole heart. Until you.»

  Secrets found no deception in the confession.

  So Amun had killed her. Again. His love for her had doomed her for eternity. She would have lived if he’d left her alone, if he had refused to bring her down here. If he hadn’t given in to his craving for her.

  He hated himself.

  He hated Zacharel now, too.

  They had moved her around like a chess piece. They had set her up for failure. And why? To save him.

  If Haidee had survived this, Amun could have continued on with his life. Even if she’d hated him, he could have continued on, happy in the kno
wledge that she was out there somewhere. But this…this shattered him. She was gone forevermore, and he was responsible. The knowledge ruined him. He was raw, eternally wounded, unable to heal. And he didn’t need Secrets to confirm that.

  There was only one thing left to do.

  Take me home, he signed, as determined as he was defeated.

  «I find I am oddly…troubled by your reaction. I did not expect this, nor do I understand what I am feeling. What I know is that I do not like it and something must be done.»

  In less than a heartbeat of time, Amun’s surroundings changed. Gone were the bleak rocks he’d shared with Haidee, and in their place were the smooth white walls of his bedroom. He took no comfort from the familiar setting.

  He moved to his bed and sat down on the edge. The angel never reappeared, and that was probably for the best. Amun wanted to kill him for hiding the truth — however he’d done so — and for allowing Amun to save himself and condemn his woman. And he would kill the angel. Soon, but not yet, for the action would earn him a death sentence of his own. A sentence he would welcome just as soon as he said goodbye to his friends.

  That was all he had left to do.

  He wasn’t going to live without Haidee; it was as simple as that.

  After Zacharel briefed Torin on everything that had happened to Amun and Haidee, gathered the rest of his angels and finally left the fortress for good, their job now done, the keeper of Disease studied his friend on several of his computer monitors. The cameras Strider had placed in Secrets’s bedroom hadn’t yet been disabled, so Torin had a clear view of his friend from multiple angles.

  The warrior might be back to normal, but he wasn’t even close to being happy. Desolation seemed to cling to him. His dark skin was dulled, and his eyes were bleaker than Torin had ever seen them.

  Torin ached for him. Even though he didn’t understand how Amun had fallen for such a woman, he still ached for the man. And he wouldn’t judge. Amun would get enough of that from the others. What he needed right now was compassion and unconditional support. Support Torin would give him.