Dark Kings

by Sadie Moss

  Ugh. I’m so out of my depth here.

  I look over at Beckett, as if he’ll help me, but the cocky man just raises an eyebrow at me.

  Yup. I’m on my own here.

  I don’t know why I even bothered looking at him. Maybe because he’s the first sin I met and because he patched me up after I almost died, I feel a weird impulse to trust him. To look to him for guidance as I try to navigate this strange new landscape. But the truth is, it’s not me and him against the world. Just because he decided to do the right thing and close a portal to Hell, it doesn’t mean he’ll choose the side of good all the time.

  But that’s my job—to make him become that guy. To make all of them become that guy. I’m starting to realize just what a difficult task this is going to be, and I groan inwardly.

  Then I look back at Remington.

  Shoot. What choice do I really have? I need to convince him to fight on our side, the side of good and right. I need to redeem him. To do that, I need him to be with me, I need to spend time with him. Which means I need him helping us. And to do that… I have to agree to this deal.

  I take a deep breath and smile at the beautiful man with the red-brown hair. “All right. Deal.”

  He holds out his hand, and we shake on it. I don’t feel any different as we do. No feeling of power or magic surges over me to seal our vow or anything. I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or not.

  This isn’t according to my plan, but I can’t allow that portal to re-open. And now I have a second sin on my side, so… this is good, right?

  Right?

  Oof.

  Chapter Eleven

  Trinity

  We have to drive far outside of the city to find Sloth, or Phoenix, the name he prefers to go by. Remington is all smiles and joviality as we get into Beckett’s car, while Beckett seems annoyed.

  Remington lets me take the front passenger seat, and I admire the nature we start to encounter as we get farther away from New York. It’s stunning out here. The human realm is so beautiful, honestly. I love that about it. Even though I miss home, Earth is really lovely, and I wish I’d spent more of my time here traveling and appreciating all there is to see. The mountains, the forests, the Grand Canyon.

  The drive out is quiet. Remington will hum snatches of songs here and there, but Beckett forbids him from turning on the radio, giving him the kind of glare I’m pretty sure he also gives to underlings who try to have thoughts of their own.

  It’s hard to make conversation with someone if you’re in the front seat and they’re in the back seat, and besides, I’m not sure it would be smart to talk to him. Not after he… I’m not sure if I can say that he tricked me into making that deal, necessarily. I’m not sure how much of what Remington was doing was conscious. It felt like some of it was subconscious, just a part of his nature, and I don’t know how much I can blame him for that.

  Stop making excuses for him, I remind myself. He’s a sin, and so is Beckett. They’re the opposite of what you stand for.

  As we drive, I can’t help but wonder what the relationship between these two is. What the relationship is between all seven of the brothers, actually. They’re not related in the traditional sense. They aren’t biologically related, and none of them grew up together. They were created fully formed, so to speak. But they’ve been around each other for millennia, and they clearly have some kind of rapport with each other.

  How do they all feel about each other?

  Beckett seems to be somewhat fond of Remington, but also easily irritated by him. Remington, on the other hand, seems to genuinely care for Beckett. Is it just his tricks again? Or is it real? I feel like down is up and up is down, and I have no way of making my world fit right again.

  We end up on a small road that leads deep into the forest—two lanes, trees all around us. Beckett’s not checking a GPS or anything, so he must know where we’re going by heart, but I can’t see any road signs or anything to mark our way. We’re truly in the boondocks.

  The car slows down, and we turn onto a lane leading into the forest. It’s one of those little roads that’s so perfectly hidden, you have to know it’s there before you make the turn or you’ll drive right past it.

  We’re really in the thick of the woods now, and I notice that the silence in the car has shifted. Remington still seems fine in the back seat, humming to himself, but Beckett’s more… not tense like he’s angry, but more like he’s concentrating.

  “The car… What are you doing with the car?” I ask. The vehicle is slowing down and moving from side to side, like a weaving snake.

  “I’m avoiding the land mines,” Beckett says shortly.

  “Land mines?”

  “Phoenix doesn’t like visitors,” Remington explains, perfectly relaxed. “But he doesn’t want to have to bother chasing them off.”

  Right, because he’s Sloth. “So he plants land mines?”

  “Not everywhere. Otherwise his deliveries couldn’t make it to the house. But they’re placed at strategic points so that if you don’t know about them… kaboom.”

  “I need you two to be quiet. I’m concentrating.”

  We subside into silence as Beckett carefully maneuvers the car until we hit a point where the trees part, and I see a clearing with a massive—well, I hesitate to call it a fortress, but that’s sure what it seems like. It’s a very fancy mansion, if the mansion had a bunch of insane extra security tacked onto it after construction was completed.

  There are concrete walls added onto the actual walls of the house, security cameras, all the works. If I was a criminal, I’d take one look at that place and decide “no thank you.”

  The security cameras follow us as we pull up. Beckett rolls to a stop, opens his window, and leans out of it, pulling open a panel hidden in a tree. I wouldn’t have even thought of something like that. This all must’ve cost a fortune to set up. How much time did this guy have on his hands? And how much money? Quite a lot of both, obviously.

  I wonder how he got so wealthy. Remington and Beckett both have jobs, but I don’t know what Phoenix does for a living. The idea of Sloth doing anything for a living at all strikes me as kind of the opposite of what he’s supposed to stand for.

  Beckett punches in a code onto the panel’s keypad. I can’t see anything happen, but I hear the sounds of what seems to be some kind of machinery shutting down. I’m not sure that I even want to know what defense systems Beckett just deactivated by punching in the right key code.

  “He’s upped security,” Remington notes, sounding proud.

  Beckett looks back at his brother like the man’s lost his mind, then pulls the car forward right up to the house. “All right, we can get out now.”

  I get out of the car, following Beckett, who pauses with Remington on the front steps of the house. Beckett neatly steps in front of me, and I realize a moment later as lasers appear, scanning his and Remington’s bodies, that he’s blocking me from view. From the lasers. They’d probably identify me as an unknown person and a threat, and I don’t even want to know what would happen after that.

  “Access granted,” a mechanical voice says. “Welcome.”

  The front doors to the house slide open and the men step inside, with me following close behind.

  The inside is nothing at all like I thought it would’ve been just from seeing the outside.

  It’s a luxurious… bachelor pad, basically.

  My gaze swivels from side to side, taking everything in as Beckett leads us into a huge living room. One wall is completely covered in television screens, showing everything from sports games to reality television to police procedurals. There’s a humongous couch that takes up most of the room, a few comfy looking chairs, and insane abstract art on the walls. On the far end of the room, an arched doorway leads into a massive kitchen, and there’s another door that shows a glimpse of a bedroom with a huge bed, complete with curtains.

  Everything about this place is luxurious. Designed for the height of comfort. A
nd sitting there on the couch enjoying it—in nothing but his boxers—is the man who must be Phoenix. The personification of Sloth.

  He’s… um. Wow.

  His face looks like it’s carved out of stone, with a long, straight nose, tousled ash brown hair, soft blue eyes, and an easy smile.

  “Well, well, well.” He sets down his video game controller, cocking a head at the three of us. “I did not plan on you guys showing up here today. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Beckett sighs heavily. “Phoenix, this is Trinity. Trinity, meet Phoenix. I wish I could say he’s the hardest working and most industrious among us and that he’s made something of himself. That would be a fucking lie though.”

  “Beck always knows how to make a guy feel like a million bucks.” The man on the couch rolls his eyes. Then his gaze peruses me up and down. “You don’t look like the usual girls he brings home though.”

  “What?” My heart jumps in my chest, and I look down at myself.

  What does that mean? Do I not look sophisticated enough?

  Also, why do I care if I don’t look like the girls Beckett normally brings home? I don’t want to be one of the girls he brings home. I’m not going to be just another one-night stand for Greed. In fact, I’m not going to be anything for him except for the angel who ensures he’s redeemed.

  That’s it. That’s all. And you know what? That’s all I should want anyway.

  It’s not like Beckett’s really anything to me. Although he is being somewhat… protective of me, I suppose. He didn’t have to recruit his brothers for me. Or step in front of a bunch of lasers on the front steps to make sure I didn’t get shot or electrocuted or something.

  Phoenix chuckles. The sound is effortless and warm. “Calm down. I just meant that you look like you have standards.”

  Beckett’s eyes narrow, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. Unlike when Remington gave him a hard time at the restaurant, this time the tall, imposing sin looks genuinely pissed.

  My heart kicks up another notch, nerves shooting through me as Remington steps in between.

  “Guys, please.” His voice is smooth, soothing. “We’ve only been here about ten seconds. Could we maybe leave the sibling rivalry until it’s been at least half an hour? Apparently, we have very important business we have to deal with. So let’s deal with that instead of falling back into the same old bullshit.”

  Beckett and Phoenix both glare at him, but then subside, looking like wolves who’ve just stopped raising their hackles at each other. Remington smiles at his brothers with a satisfied nod. I guess he’s the peacekeeper of the family. It makes sense, given how he is with his food, his customers, and his restaurant.

  Phoenix picks up a remote and mutes all the TVs on the walls. Then he settles more comfortably on the couch, spreading his arms out to each side. His bare abs flex and contract, and I have to work hard not to let my gaze slide over his mostly naked form. How on earth does Sloth have a six-pack? That just seems patently unfair.

  “So,” he drawls. “What brings you to my humble abode? Especially with a guest?”

  “Trinity here has a little issue that she needs help with,” Beckett says in what I’ve come to learn is his I’ve got an offer you can’t refuse voice. “It’s a problem for all of us, actually. I know this might seem like a shocking concept, given how opposed you are to the idea of having problems. But a portal has opened up in New York City. To Below.”

  “A portal to Hell has opened.” Phoenix narrows his eyes, as if he’s calling his brother’s bluff. “Why am I not hearing news stories about it then?” He tilts his head toward one of the TVs on the wall. “Nothing on CNN here about a mysterious explosion, or nuclear meltdown, or whatever lie they would be telling to try to cover up the insanity.”

  “The human government is covering it up as usual.” Beckett shrugs. “There was a short news segment about it last night, but the very fact that there hasn’t been more reporting on it should tell you how serious it is.”

  Sloth scoffs. “There are demons running all over NYC, and they’re covering that up?”

  “No.” Beckett’s voice is hard. “Trinity closed the portal last night. And the demons who did manage to get through nearly killed her in the process.”

  Phoenix’s gaze shifts to me, something new burning in his ice-blue eyes. I wouldn’t call it respect, exactly. He probably doesn’t respect anyone who would work so hard or throw themselves into danger like that. But he does look a bit surprised, as if he’s reevaluating his initial impression of me.

  I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, brushing off Beckett’s words.

  “I put a… a stopgap on it, I guess you could say. I closed it for now. But it won’t last forever; I don’t have that kind of power. So we have to find a permanent way to close it up.”

  Phoenix squints at me. “How’d you close up a portal to Below?”

  “She’s an angel,” Beckett says impatiently.

  His brother snorts with laughter. “What? Uh, no way. Nah. No way is an angel fucking around with the likes of us.” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Sorry to tell you this, bro, but you got taken for a ride. She’s probably just a pixie with delusions of grandeur.”

  Something about his attitude rankles me—the way he so clearly doesn’t care and is looking for an excuse to just go back to his video games. Without even thinking about it, I shoot my wings out from where they’ve been tucked away into my back.

  “Holy fuck!” Phoenix blurts out as my wings burst out, feathers going everywhere, my broad wingspan puffing up.

  “Wow.” Remington’s voice is low. He sounds genuinely in awe. “Those are really beautiful. May I?”

  Beckett grumbles under his breath, but I can’t make out what he’s saying as I nod at Remington. The gentle man reaches out, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles and strokes my feathers lightly.

  A shudder runs through me, and I realize too late what a bad idea this was. Wings are… well. Like I said before, they show my emotions, and they’re a lot more sensitive than the rest of me.

  Remington tightens his hold on my feathers a little, and heat shoots through me. The desire to take a step closer to him and press my body against his overtakes me like a storm, and I have to politely clear my throat and force myself to focus on Phoenix.

  “You were saying?” I drawl.

  “Holy fuck,” Phoenix repeats, his voice a startled croak. “You’re really an angel. Well, fuck me.”

  “If that was a serious offer,” Beckett notes, “then you’ve truly gotten lazy. Even your attempts to pick up a woman are half-assed.”

  The man on the couch tilts his head back, glaring indolently down his nose at his brother. “We both know if it was a serious offer, she’d be on my lap already. But thanks for reminding me yet again why I never invite you over.”

  “It’s not my fault I’m the only one around here with true ambition.”

  “There are other ways to have ambition, you know. You don’t just have to shove a stick up your ass and wear a suit.”

  “Look,” I say, realizing we’re getting off-track again. They’re distracted by needling each other, and I’m distracted by unbidden images of crawling onto Phoenix’s lap. “This portal to Downstairs is going to affect all of us. Beckett and Remington have agreed to help me close it permanently so that you guys don’t have to deal with the corrupted. Would you be able to help us too?”

  Phoenix freezes. His gaze slowly transfers from his brother to me, his brows pulling together slightly.

  Then he bursts out laughing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trinity

  “Are you serious?” Sloth glances at his brothers. “She’s serious. Ha!” He looks back at me. “Oh, sweetie, sweetie, sweetie.”

  My feathers ruffle as a jolt of anger flashes through me. “Do not call me sweetie.”

  “Look, sugar pie, if you wanted someone who would actually get up off his ass and do something, you came to the wrong guy.” Ph
oenix shakes his head. “I am not your man for that. You want someone to eat pizza and binge the latest Netflix show with? I’m game. You want someone to take a nap with? Hey, I’m your best cuddle buddy. You want a guy to be a good toy and get underneath you so you can ride his cock? Baby, I am ready to go. But get up? Leave my house? Fight? Do you even know what the definition of sloth is?” He chuckles like this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Help you? Yeah, sure, I’d love to, really, but my schedule’s booked solid. I couldn’t possibly squeeze you in.”

  My jaw is hanging open, and I’m torn between shock and fury as I stare at the man who grins right back at me.

  “I—I—”

  “I really wish you wouldn’t use inappropriate language with her,” Remington sighs.

  “She’s an angel; she’s not an idiot. I’m sure she’s heard people talk about sex before.”

  “I—”

  Gah. Come on, mouth. Work!

  Before I can get my brain-mouth connection to move past that single word, Phoenix points at me. “You’re an angel. Go get the forces from Above to deal with this. Okay? This is between the two of you—good and evil. We do not side with either. We’re neutral.”

  “This isn’t picking sides,” Beckett snaps.

  “This is about taking care of something that will harm us if we let it continue,” Remington explains, about a billion times more patient than his brother. “It’s not about siding with Above, and once it’s done, we can go right back to our lives and not worry about it anymore. But if we let this thing fester? If we let it re-open? Who knows what’ll happen.”

  Phoenix sighs, letting his head fall back against the plush couch cushion. “What did the others say?”

  “We haven’t approached the others yet.” Beckett slides his hands into his pockets. “You’re the third.”

  That sends Phoenix off into gales of laughter again. “You came to me third? Oh, man, I thought I was gonna be the last one. But no, you went to me third? Holy shit, did you two sustain brain damage since the last time I saw you?”