Immortal Rider lod-2 Page 8

  “He escaped, you liar.”

  “He got out of his cell,” Pestilence countered, “but I got him to the hellmouth entrance before demons got him. Granted, I left him in worse condition than I found him, but there’s always a trade-off, isn’t there?”

  “You,” she snarled. “You’re the reason he was so battered.”

  He shrugged, one of the spiked metal shoulder plates carving a deep groove into the white paint on the doorjamb. “I didn’t do anything his captors hadn’t done to him. Or would have done to him if you hadn’t gotten to him before Sartael’s team did.”

  “You’re despicable.”

  Pestilence clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

  Oh, she’d like to wound him, all right. “What do you want? I did what you as Sd wence clutcked, so get the hell out of my house.”

  Her brother fingered the engraved bow-and-arrow symbol on the back of his gauntlet. The right touch would pop a real weapon into his hand, and Limos hoped he didn’t suddenly decide to put an arrow between her eyes.

  “I came to give you a heads-up,” he said, halting the finger play.

  She stared. “Really.”

  “Yup.” The amused glint in his eyes grew sinister, and his lips peeled back from fangs as long as her pinky. “I fed from your boy. He’s smooth going down. When your Seal breaks, you can see for yourself.”

  Fury that he’d stuck those fangs into Arik was a gasoline fire in her veins. Her brother had committed violence against Arik, had hurt and used him, but there was an envious element to her anger, as well. Pestilence had been intimate with Arik… granted, the intimacy was sick and twisted, but there was definitely a forced closeness to feeding, to the penetration, and she had no doubt her brother had gotten off on what he’d done.

  Even though she wanted to hurl one of the knives from the butcher block at Pestilence’s head, she didn’t give her brother the satisfaction.

  “My Seal isn’t going to break,” she said calmly.

  “It will.” Pestilence pushed off the doorframe. “That’s the only reason I haven’t killed the human yet. I want you to be the one who does it. I want to watch when you drink him to death.”

  “Why would it matter to you if he’s dead?”

  “Because,” he said, his voice as dark as the black stuff leaking from the joints of his armor, “he fed from me too. Which means that when he dies, his soul is mine. And I have plans for it.”

  Horror clamped down hard on Limos’s throat, squeezing so viciously she couldn’t breathe, and she fought the urge to launch herself at him.

  When she could speak again, her voice was a raw rasp. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  But before the question was even fully out of her mouth, she knew. Every soul Pestilence took made him stronger, but this went far beyond that.

  “Yeah,” Pestilence drawled. “You know why. You always had more brains than boobs.” He flashed his fangs. “Your husband will give me anything I want in trade for Arik’s soul.”

  Her calm evaporated. She snatched up a butcher knife and hurled it with all her strength.

  Pestilence took a graceful sidestep, and the blade punched into the wall, the handle vibrating harmlessly. Casting a smile over his shoulder, he took the corner, disappearing from her sight.

  That asshole. That goddamned son of a bitch!

  Closing her eyes, she planted her fists on the counter and stood there until her blood pressure wasn’t in danger of blowing out her eardrums. But e Srdred ven as the thud faded away, she once again heard the sound of footsteps. At least this time, it was Thanatos who stepped into the kitchen, wearing his usual black pants and a long black coat that buckled from the high collar to the waist. She’d bet he had on a black turtleneck under it. Instead of his favorite thick-soled Goth boots, he wore combat boots.

  “You look like hell.” He tossed a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt onto the table. “And why is there a knife in the wall?”

  “Pestilence was just here, and that knife was meant for the back of his skull.”

  Thanatos tensed, his yellow eyes darkening to a golden amber. All around him, shadows gathered. “What did he want?”

  “Mostly to taunt me.”

  God, she hated this. Hated that her brother had gone evil. Hated that he had so much power over her. Hated that he now owned Arik in a way she never would. Not that she wanted to own his soul, but she definitely didn’t want Pestilence having it. Arik was… what? Hers? Impossible, even if he didn’t hate her.

  Thanatos had gone still, as if considering what their brother might have done to taunt her. She expected him to ask, so she was surprised when he said, “How’s the human doing?”

  “I’m not sure. He doesn’t remember escaping.”

  “Did you mess with his memories?”

  She and her brothers could erase memories—depending on the situation and individual, they usually couldn’t go back more than a couple of hours or so, but often, that was all that was needed.

  “I haven’t done anything to his mind. He thinks he’s still in Sheoul.” She blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m a little worried.” A little? She was freaked.

  “Yeah, well, remember how screwed up you were after you got away from The Aegis?”

  How could she forget? Those bastards had paralyzed her with hellhound spit and kept her in a dungeon while they poked and prodded, and threw in a little torture for fun. Reseph had rescued her, and she’d spent two full days trying to get her bearings.

  “He just needs some time.”

  Thanatos shifted his weight. “Speaking of that…”

  “Don’t say it,” she growled. “Killing him so he won’t get grabbed by demons isn’t an option. Our asshole brother did some sort of blood exchange with him, and now if he dies, his soul belongs to Pestilence.”

  “Fuck,” Than breathed. “That’s not cool.”

  “You think?” She loaded the food and water on a tray. “What I don’t get is why he’s waiting. Why not kill Arik now?”

  “No idea. Maybe tethering a soul is like turning a vampire? It has to ‘take’?”

  “I don’t know about t S knwidth="27"hat, but I do have some good news.” She dug Sartael’s coin out of her shorts pocket. “Look who’s surfaced.” She flipped the coin at Than, who snatched it easily out of the air.

  “Well, well,” he murmured as he studied the coin. “The angel of hidden things came out to play for the Apocalypse.” He looked up. “How did you get this?”

  “I killed a demon who was using it to track Arik,” she said, enjoying the flush of heat that tingled over her skin. She could have told Than the truth, that Kynan had killed the demon, but her brother would have wondered why she’d been with Ky in the first place. “I thought Sartael was dead.”

  “There have always been rumors that instead of death, he was imprisoned by Satan. Some say he was turned into a hellrat and kept as a pet.”

  “So why let him out now?”

  “Maybe your fiancé was desperate to find Arik after he escaped?”

  “It’s possible, but it seems pretty extreme to bring Sartael back after so long just to find one human.” She eyed the knife in the wall. “Pestilence,” she spat. “He mentioned Sartael when he was here. I’d bet your left nut that Pestilence arranged for Sartael’s release so he could help him find my agimortus.”

  Thanatos bounced the coin in his palm. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use my balls as wagers, but yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Can we use that coin to find Sartael?”

  “I might have something in my library about it. Reaver might know something as well. I’ll summon him.”

  Awesome. It was about time they had a concrete plan. She grabbed the tray and clothes, and allowed Than to walk her to the bedroom. Ever protective, he stepped in front of her to open the door and scan the room before he let her enter. Arik was sitting in a corner, still naked, his forehead propped on his knees.

  He looked up as th
ey entered, his gorgeous hazels seething.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “I brought some clothes.” She tossed them on the bed. “And food.”

  She eased forward, stopping when his lips peeled back in a silent snarl. Behind her, Than was a black menace, which wasn’t going to make things with Arik go any easier.

  Go, she mouthed, and when her brother didn’t budge, she nudged him with her elbow. After shooting her a look that conveyed his displeasure, Than stalked outside and slammed the door closed.

  Very slowly, she set the tray on the floor and backed away from Arik. Going by the stark hunger in his expression, she expected him to leap on the food. Instead, he shrank back even more.

  “You think I’m stupid?” His voice was an angry rumble. “You think I’ll try to eat that? Where is my bucket of eyes and guts?”

  Eyes and guts? The realization made bile bubble up in her throat. They’d fed h Shey try to eaim nasty shit, and probably taunted him with real food, punishing him when he tried to eat it. She’d never wanted to commit mass murder more than she did right now.

  “No eyes and guts today. Special treat.”

  “Fuck off. I want my usual. And don’t tell me you’re out of maggot-ridden rotting meat, because you seem to have an abundance of that.”

  “Tell you what,” she said lightly. “You can have the nasty stuff after you eat this.” She backed toward the door, hoping he’d eat after she was gone, but suspecting he wouldn’t.

  Turned out, she was right.

  She covertly watched through the sliding glass door that led from the back deck to the bedroom, as he stared at the food with a desperate longing in his eyes. Finally, when it was clear that Arik wouldn’t touch the food, she found Hekili taking inventory in the pantry.

  “I need something… disgusting-looking,” she said. “Something that’s edible, healthy, but won’t look like it’s real food.” She paused, considering the whole torture chamber scenario. “And put it on a paper plate or a cheap pie tin.”

  “I can get just the thing.” Smiling, Hekili wiped his hands on the towel draped over the shoulder of his chef jacket. “Haggis.”

  Yeah, that would do it. “Perfect.”

  Eight

  Harvester hated taking orders from anyone, but the instructions she’d recently received couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t understand them, but she knew that if she screwed up, she would be in big trouble. And if she succeeded, she could be in even bigger trouble.

  What she was about to do could put her life in danger the moment she exited Sheoul and entered the human realm, where the forces of Heaven could snuff her like a cigarette. Complete with the crush of a galaxy-sized boot.

  She glanced around her residence, which, though richly decorated in artwork from around the various regions of Sheoul, was as cold and unappealing as the blackened forest all around the house. Her werewolf slave, Whine, was the only thing that gave her home life, though today he was dragging ass. She’d taken a little too much blood from him last night, and though he would never complain about being tired, she saw it in the way he moved—slower and with far less grace than usual.

  But she couldn’t afford to feel bad, and she certainly couldn’t afford to show him any compassion. In this place, kindness killed.

  “Stop dawdling,” she snapped. “I need the guest chamber prepared immediately.” She didn’t wait for Whine to nod. She flashed straight to the one person who could help her carry out her mission, the most powerful Orphmage in the underworld.

  The Neethul, Gormesh, occupied a crystal tower on the craggy banks of the river Acheron. G Vthe most puards circled the tower, which was clear as glass right now, but could change color and opacity at Gormesh’s whim. He was in his lab, walking between rows of test subjects. Unwilling test subjects, if the way they were strapped to tables and locked in cages was any indication.

  The guards didn’t mess with her, and she passed through the front doors with no problem. The moment the doors closed, the palace walls turned smoky, and in moments, the sorcerer appeared at the top of the grand staircase.

  “Harvester.” His voice was as smoky as the walls. “It’s been centuries.”

  Which hadn’t been long enough. She cut to the chase. “I need something that will paralyze an angel.”

  Gormesh whistled, long and low. “Angels aren’t easily immobilized. You know that.”

  “Of course I know that,” she gritted out. She might have left Heaven thousands of years ago, but every memory of her time as a pure angel was as sharp as one of the Orphmage’s scalpels.

  “Why not simply trap your angel with a containment spell and cut off his wings?”

  “Because this particular angel won’t be easily led into a trap, and I don’t have the time to set up something elaborate.” She started up the stairs, holding the sorcerer with her gaze. “My orders are coming from the very top, so any help you can provide will be most… appreciated.”

  “The very top, you say?” his elflike ears twitched. “Come with me. This will cost you, but we’ll figure something out.”

  Great. The fucker didn’t come cheap for the simplest things. This? This was going to cost her more than she could afford.

  But the payoff would be spectacular. Reaver wouldn’t know what hit him.

  * * *

  Reaver smiled down at the pile of dead demons in the dirt at his feet. Of all his duties, his favorite was killing demons. As a battle angel of the Power order of angels, it was what he’d been bred for, and he was good at it. Sure, back when he’d been stripped of his wings and cast out of Heaven, he’d worked as a doctor at Underworld General Hospital, where he’d healed demons. But he’d been selective about who he saved, because the truth was that not all demons were evil, just as not all humans were good.

  There was balance everywhere, a yin-yang thing going on since the beginning of time, and for the most part, it had worked.

  Until Pestilence’s Seal had broken, and now the balance between good and evil was rapidly shifting… and not in the favor of good. Evil was spilling out of Sheoul and was infecting humans everywhere, including here, in this remote Polish village where people had turned on each other, not knowing that their actions had been influenced by the demons Reaver had just killed.

  Gethel, the angel who had been the Horsemen’s good Watcher before Reaver had taken the assignment a little over a year ago, emerged from inside one of the houses whe [he s re a family had been slaughtered.

  “All souls have crossed over,” she said, as she glided toward him. “But far too many crossed to the wrong side.”

  That was the problem with the kind of evil they were dealing with now. Too many humans who wouldn’t normally fall to darkness were allowing evil into their bodies and minds. In the battle for souls, Heaven had always had the advantage, but even that was starting to change.

  Gethel eyed the dead demons, her lip curling in distaste. “Your power is impressive, Reaver. I can see why you were chosen as my replacement.” Smiling, she spread her wings—white, shot through with gold—and performed a pre-flight check as she folded and unfolded them again. “Give Limos my best. I do miss her. And Reseph.” Her smile turned sad. “He was the one I thought might retain some humanity even after his Seal broke.”

  “I did too.” Reaver lifted his hand in the stick-in-the-ass formal manner his fellow angels were so fond of. “Fare well, Gethel.”

  She lifted off so fast that even Reaver would have missed it if he’d blinked. Around him, the dead demons disintegrated, as they always did in the human realm—unless they were shapeshifters or weres, or a species such as Seminus demons, who appeared to be human. Basically, if they couldn’t pass as human, they decomposed in a matter of seconds.

  His scalp prickled, a split-second of warning before Harvester materialized.

  “Hello, you sexy beast,” she said, the sarcasm in her voice setting his teeth on edge. She stood before him, her shiny hair and wings as black as her soul.

  “What d
o you want? I have things to do.” Namely, he had to respond to the summoning that had become a fizzy tug on his insides in the last few minutes.

  Thanatos was calling him, and Reaver wondered what was up. The Horsemen didn’t screw around with a summons, though sometimes Reaver wished they would. Would it really hurt them to summon him for, say, a barbecue? Or for one of Limos’s beach parties? Angels had to eat too.

  “I merely longed to gaze upon your angelic handsomeness.” Harvester batted her eyelashes, and Reaver snorted.

  “I think it’s more likely you came to smash me under a mountain again.” He gestured to the countryside. “You have an entire mountain range to work with.”

  “Tsk-tsk. You don’t trust me at all, do you?”

  “I probably didn’t trust you even when we were in Heaven together.” Probably, because he didn’t remember. His memory, as well as all evidence of his very existence, had been wiped for some reason, and he couldn’t recall anything that had taken place before the event that caused his fall a quarter-century ago. Even when he’d been given his wings back, his memory hadn’t returned, and no angel he knew of, fallen or otherwise, could remember him either.

  Harvester shrugged, a slow roll of one curvy bare shoulder. Geez, she was dressed like a stripper in a black leather bustier and miniskirt, fishnet nylons, and six-inch [andre stilettos. Reaver might be all holy and good now, but one of the dangers of being on Earth—especially now that evil was permeating everything—was that angels felt everything humans did, including lust, and Reaver had always had a thing for scantily dressed, naughty girls.

  He narrowed his eyes. Was Harvester aware of his dirty little secret?

  “I wasn’t always untrustworthy,” she said, sounding a little stung despite her casual attitude. “I did enjoy serving.” Her smile flashed fangtips. “But I enjoy ruling more.”

  “Are you here to chat, or are you here about something important?”

  “It’s definitely important.”

  “About the Horsemen?” That would be the only reason she’d seek him out. It was the only thing they had in common.