Only One I'll Have (UnHallowed Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Regardless, White’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. Such loyalty found in a pit of vipers, vipers Aiden now led. Where would he find someone as loyal as White to stand by his side, as loyal as he was when he stood by Taige’s side? He wondered as he walked down a long stone passageway connecting the living quarters to the business quarters of the complex.

  Aiden paused at the double doors to the boardroom to lean against the wall. Much rode on this meeting, namely saving his coalition. His Demon Army. The plan to eliminate the Celestial Army and free the Demoni Lords originated with him, not that traitorous Taige. Despite his treachery and grandstanding, Taige failed. Aiden had gift-wrapped victory and Taige had failed. Greed got the best of him.

  No more taking a back seat for those of lesser intellect. It was Aiden’s time to lead.

  He straightened from his slouch, squared his shoulders, and gathered his strength because weakness would not be tolerated. He was a predator, not prey. The ones he meant to lead would eviscerate any demon less than the alpha predators they all were.

  Muffled voices came from within, the loudest belonged to Rophus, a Div-E, one who once guarded Satan and aided in his imprisonment. Ah, sweet treachery made for strange bedfellows.

  Something crashed. The muffled echo of destruction seeped through the double doors. A chair? A vase? A body?

  The doors opened at Aiden’s silent command and he strolled in. Hmmm. It was a body. A Hazk scurried to his feet. By the time he resumed his seat at the conference table, his human guise was in the process of reforming to shield his multi-limbed centipede-like appearance.

  “Tales of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,” he answered to the surprised stares. With a casual grace, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took his seat at the head of the table.

  All the factions were represented; the leaders of the Hazk, Div-E, Ghouls, and Ifirts were in attendance. Aiden led the Spaun and Darklings. In addition, a Crossroad demon sat at the end of the table, masked in the guise of a woman, a stunningly beautiful woman, not that her appearance had any effect on those present. She observed the battle in Siberia. Her power didn’t lay in her combat skills. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what value she brought to the table. She fled at the first signs of a fight, even though, out of all the demons at the table, her life was the most likely to be spared by the UnHallowed. Well, right now, the more the merrier. War needed bodies. Pretty package or decaying hag, war didn’t discriminate. Eventually, he would figure out a way for her to serve him.

  “My spies confirm Taige is dead. Slain by our enemy, the UnHallowed.” Aiden got things started.

  Rophus cracked his massive knuckles. “Good. He should be grateful they got to him before I did.” At over seven feet tall and packed with more raw, muscular power than any UnHallowed could ever amass, Rophus and his twin, Crakus, dominated the room. No being could defeat them in single combat, even though they were bred to be followers, commanded, not leaders.

  The two had been swept up in the mass evacuation tide the single time the gates of Hell had been opened allowing the UnHallowed and others to escape. Malphas had kept them chained in absolute darkness until Aiden found and freed them in 1901, gaining their fealty.

  Crakus nodded at his twin’s statement. “We are pleased by his death. A horrible leader, he was. None of his goals, he accomplished.”

  “Not true,” said the Hazk, his appearance now of a middle-aged man. “He defeated the Celestial Army.”

  Aiden cleared his throat, pleased to clear up this misconception. “I am the mastermind behind the angels’ defeat, not Taige. Crakus is correct. Taige was not the leader we needed.”

  “And you are?” the Crossroad demon asked, her voice a symphony to the eardrum, evoking lurid images catering to each individual’s preference. Unfortunately, she was trying too hard, especially with this asexual audience.

  Aiden pivoted to the demon on his right. “Am I your leader?”

  Gergos, a Ghoul, nodded his head, bouncing on his chest from the force of his agreement. Aiden went around the table asking the same question of each member of his new inner circle until he reached the Ifirt, who asked. “Is Malphas dead?”

  Before Aiden answered, a breeze stirred the drapery, preceding the dark mist wafting into a corner of the room. “An excellent question.” The words were spoken as the mist coalesced into a solid, towering, shrouded, seven-foot Reaper.

  Tension polluted the air. The last time any of them saw a Reaper, it was on the other side of the Siberian battlefield as it cut their ranks by a third.

  “Join us.” Aiden waved to an empty seat, which the Reaper ignored. Privately, Taige had raged at how the soul snatcher refused to divulge his name. As long as his loyalties remained, Aiden hadn’t cared. Now, as leader, he couldn’t tolerate not knowing. Unfortunately, a Reaper wasn’t a demon to be commanded by a demon of a higher caste. The Archangel of Death commanded the Reapers. All except this traitorous soul snatcher. Aiden suspected there were more who chafed under Sammiél’s rule, or lack thereof. Aiden needed them on his side. So, for now, he’d play nice.

  The Reaper took mist form again and poured himself into the seat opposite the Crossroad Demon. Little more than a black smudge on caramel leather, his skull, and two smaller skulls—children, Aiden assumed—dangled from a string attached to his shroud. The strong scent of sulfur, boneyard ash, and decay wafted from him. The Crossroad demon greeted the addition with a smile, while aggression rolled through the rest of the assembly.

  “You come here after one of yours culled our numbers,” Rophus growled.

  “A Reaper caused our defeat,” Crakus added.

  The Reaper emitted something close to a snort. “A Reaper, not your deceased leader’s fuck up?” He paused, stringing the tension out until Aiden wasn’t sure if he would answer his posed question with his scythe. “In any case, I was not there.”

  “How can we be sure it wasn’t you?” Rophus pressed.

  The white skull pivoted their way and pitted, eyeless orbs latched onto the two. “You can’t.”

  Chairs were shoved back. Weapons were drawn. A growl, no, more like the rumbles of an avalanche came from the Reaper. Power pulsed from him in a smoky wave and knocked every demon back to the wall, except for Aiden and the Crossroad Demon.

  Flattened against the walls, they stayed there as the Reaper crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap, at ease with the havoc he’d wrought. His head pivoted slightly toward Aiden, and he said, “Impress me. You have one single opportunity, else I kill you all and start anew.” Twin flames danced in his dark sockets.

  The Crossroad demon sat back in her chair. One eyebrow arched, nearly touching her hairline.

  “Yes. You will be included in the slaughter,” the Reaper said to her.

  Elbows on the table, she leaned in. “Why are you so interested? You’re not here to stop us or help us, so why are you invested?”

  Aiden kept silent. He wanted the answer to this question, one Taige had never discovered the answer to.

  “My reasons are my own.”

  “Not good enough.” Aiden sat back in his chair. “The fact is, I have an army. I don’t need a Reaper, especially one I don’t trust, and only one. If all you bring to the table is yourself, that is not enough. I need allies, an alliance, not hangers on, regardless of how powerful you are.” Aiden didn’t back down from the inferno blazing in the sockets of the Reaper’s skeletal head. He wasn’t impressed. He’d faced the Archangel of Death on the battlefield and helped bring him down. The Reaper didn’t measure up.

  Suddenly, Rophus, Crakus, and the rest of his minions were free from their imprisonment against the wall. Rophus and Crakus drew their weapons and rushed to challenge the Reaper. Another wave of power flung them into their chairs, where they rolled around, crashing into each other like bumper cars in an amusement park.

  “There are more of me, the number I’m not at liberty to divulge. We are a secretive bunch. More so now that Sammiél seems to have an inter
est in the Reapers again. My interest aligns with yours. You want the Demoni Lords free, and so do I.”

  “Why?” Aiden sensed there was more to the story.

  “Do you want my aid or not?” Was the Reaper’s reply.

  Aiden did. “Where are the UnHallowed now?” he asked the entire group.

  “Back in their house in rural Michigan, outside of Detroit.”

  “All of them?” Aiden asked.

  “As far as we can tell. They travel through the shadows, so it is impossible to be certain,” said Gergos.

  “Sammiél is not there. He has been seen with one of my kind in Massachusetts,” the Reaper said.

  “Two things we need from them, the Cruor, and the blood of an archangel. Taige drained that angel, Amaya, of her blood and it didn’t open the portal.” Though it did bring forth something else, a second Cruor. Almost an exact copy of the original. That detail he’d keep to himself.

  “The UnHallowed are all former archangels. They can’t help you,” the Reaper said.

  Thank you for stating the obvious. “I know,” Aiden snapped.

  “And they will kill any of you at first sight. I know I would after the shit show you pulled in Siberia,” the Reaper said.

  “How do you know so much about Siberia when you weren’t there?” Crakus demanded.

  “I was close enough. Saw enough.” The Reaper’s shroud billowed.

  Aggression poisoned the air, some contributed from Aiden, though he kept his face neutral. He had to acknowledge the Reaper did have a point, one that Aiden had thought about endlessly. Brute force wouldn’t win against the angels or the UnHallowed, not without massive casualties, which he wasn’t prepared to incur, again. Not so soon after the Siberian disaster. He did have a plan. “The UnHallowed are resourceful and in league with the angels. We’ll let them get us an archangel.”

  “And how do you propose making an UnHallowed do your bidding?” the Reaper said. The only one who continued to challenge Aiden’s authority.

  “By attacking their greatest weaknesses…their women.”

  Chapter Four

  The sliding glass made a soft whoosh. “Are you hiding out here?” Bane stepped onto the deck. Dressed only in a pair of jeans, his bare feet slapped the wood as he came into view.

  Chay watched him approach from the comfort of an Adirondack chair. The sun had just set, leaving a rainbow of colors trailing in its wake. The night was a welcomed, familiar embrace he’d never imagined he would miss. “Not hiding. Didn’t want to invade your privacy, so I stayed out here.”

  Bane sat on the ottoman across from Chay and grinned. “Appreciate it. We’ve used the time well.” He tipped his head to the brand-new McMansion behind them, though Chay didn’t miss the double entendre. They hadn’t spent all that time building and decorating.

  And that’s why Chay was here, camped beside Bane’s pool, not in the house.

  “The basement’s done. All the rooms are now suites. Personal touches are by Amaya, not me. Our door is now re-opened to all.”

  Chay nodded and completely unlike him, he hemmed and hawed, chewing on the words he needed to spit out.

  “I need a drink.” Bane went to the stocked refrigerator in the outdoor kitchen along the wall of the house and returned with two tumblers of Hibiki, his favorite whiskey. He passed one to Chay and they sipped in silence, the companionship thick between them.

  Chay glanced at the house. “Amaya inside?”

  “Yeah. I knew you were out here. Planned on giving you some space, but she spotted you and made me come out here and check on you.”

  “I hope I didn’t disturb her.”

  Bane shook his head. “Nah.” He rolled the tumbler between his hands and waited.

  Chay sighed. He wasn’t one to share. Hell, none of them were. For millennia, none had anything to share. The shadows weren’t an amusement park with a variety of options for entertainment. He cleared his throat. “I seriously fucked up with Sophie.”

  Bane nodded but said nothing.

  “You seem to be making things work with Amaya after you fucked up. How did you do it?”

  “Whoa.” He held up his hands. “I didn’t erase her memory.”

  Chay flinched. Bane hadn’t pulled his punch; the blow hurt. “Thanks for the reminder. And I didn’t erase her memories. I blocked them.” Semantics was the only leg he could stand on.

  “We’re all culpable, not that it helps any. Any one of us could’ve stopped you or reversed the mind block. We didn’t because we all agreed with you. Sophie was a wreck when you brought her to us. A fact, not fiction.” He ran a hand across his five o’clock shadow. “I say give her time.”

  “Time is the one thing she doesn’t have. Whoever told you she left, forgot to add that tidbit.”

  Bane nodded. “Yeah, Riél stopped by and spilled everything. He loves gossip as much as he loves sex.”

  “No, I don’t.” Tahariél separated from the deep shadows outside of the lanterns positioned around the hot tub. “I love gossip more.” He stretched out on the lounge next to Chay, shades over his eyes, even though night had fallen. Today’s tee shirt read:

  BLINK IF YOU WANT ME.

  “Girls’ night and I wasn’t invited. I’m hurt.”

  “We’re having a private conversation,” Bane said.

  “Let him stay.” Chay didn’t have the energy to argue with Riél. Getting him to leave would require more effort than he was willing to spare. Plus, none of them had more experience with women than the former Archangel of Purity. “The Reaper Daeden said she didn’t have much time. I took that to mean death.” Chay cracked his knuckles in lieu of punching something, probably Riél.

  Bane drained his glass. “I can’t see how it could mean anything else. Any idea how it could happen?”

  Chay shook his head. “The Reaper said he didn’t know the details—the where, when or how. I believe him. He has no reason to lie.”

  “So, you’re gonna stalk her for however long it takes to save her?” A grimace tightened Bane’s mouth.

  Body strung tight at the unpleasant task of watching her from afar, never talking, never touching, Chay said, “If I have to.”

  “She finds out you’re stalking her, you’ll never get her back,” Riél muttered.

  Chay scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t want it that way, but so be it. She can hate me while enjoying the rest of her life.”

  “That’s not what you want, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” Bane returned to the outdoor kitchen for the Hibiki and refilled their glasses.

  “None for me?” Riél complained when he wasn’t offered a taste.

  “No.” Bane planted his ass again. “Hey, you know I’ve made my mistakes with Amaya and she made me pay for them. Not trusting her almost cost all our lives. You feel me?” Both UnHallowed nodded. “Should you have returned her memories sooner…yeah, but that shit is neither here nor there. What’s done is done. You can’t change it, all you can do is own up and man up.”

  Chay leaned forward, the whiskey sloshed over the rim onto his leathers. “I have. She ain’t listening to what I’m saying.”

  Riél shifted to the edge of his chair and swung his legs over the side. “You got to keep saying it, man. If one time ain’t enough, then keep swallowing your pride and say it a thousand more times.”

  Chay stood and paced along the edge of the pool. “I get it. I do, but damn it, I was right to block her memories. I told her that.”

  Riél hung his head, while Bane heaved a sigh. “Shit, man. You shouldn’t have done that.” Riél whipped his shades off and rubbed his eyes.

  “I told her the truth.” Chay folded his arms, suddenly he wasn’t so sure about his convictions.

  Bane’s voice lowered. “I’m all for truth and honesty in a relationship”—he glanced at the house—“but there is a time and a place for everything.”

  “And sometimes, that truth can wait eons,” Riél added and snatched the bottle of Hibiki from between Bane�
��s legs.

  “Shit!” Chay came here for advice. So far, none of it was good. He gritted his teeth. “If you’re gonna tell me to give up and let someone else protect her, then fuck both of you.”

  Bane shrugged. “That may be the only answer.”

  Riél snorted. “Like you would’ve walked away from Amaya. Man, you’re so pussy-whipped you go on store runs for nail polish and tampons. This is what you do—”

  “Both of you idiots, shut up.” All attention was diverted to Amaya hanging out of an upstairs window. “Stay right there, Chay. I’ll be down in a second.”

  “I thought you put your bedroom in the front of the house,” Riél whispered to Bane.

  “I did, but she changed the plans and now it wraps around,” he whispered back.

  All three watched the sliding glass door. Chay had a moment to wonder if he was the only one with a gnawing dread chewing his insides. The door slid open and Amaya stepped out. Dressed in sweats and a tank top, she eyed all three men and strolled over. Bane scooted over and made room for her on the ottoman. She sat and crossed her legs.

  Riél’s mouth parted, no doubt for more words of wisdom to roll out. Amaya’s hand snapped up. She waved a single finger in front of his face. “Don’t. I’ve heard enough out of you.”