Dark Kings

by Sadie Moss

  “I’m not sure I like your attitude,” I bite out, because I really am getting impatient here. This guy’s starting to get under my skin, and not in a good way. Not even in a way that feels good but probably isn’t, like Remington does. He’s just oozing this… blatant disregard for the rest of us, and I can feel it in waves.

  Maybe he uses that power to convince other people to be lazy, but it’s not working on me. I’m just annoyed.

  “That’s adorable.” Sloth grins at me. “Beckett’s always annoyed by me too. You two must get along.”

  “We don’t,” Beckett says.

  I’m unexpectedly hurt by how offended he sounds by the very notion. Is the idea of getting along with me really that awful? I know I’m an angel, so it’s not like I’m supposed to be best friends with a sin, but still…

  “I’m shocked you three think I would do anything to help. Really, I am.” Phoenix puts his hand over his heart dramatically, like he’s about to swear an oath.

  “Well, just out of the goodness of your heart… no. I didn’t think so.” Beckett has his let’s make a deal voice on again, and something about that makes me wary. “But with an angel offering to owe you a favor? I think that sweetens things up a bit, doesn’t it?”

  I whip my head around to gape at him. What? No! I only agreed to do a favor for Remington. I can’t go around offering favors to every single one of the seven sins! Especially not when I’m supposed to be helping them redeem themselves.

  If they’re helping me because they hope to get something juicy in return, then that defeats the whole purpose of doing this for the sake of good, doesn’t it? It changes their motives from selfless to selfish.

  Beckett looks challengingly back at me as I glare at him, as if I’m a board member at his company who’s acting out of line, and he’s putting me in my place. I can’t help but wonder if this is his revenge for my spying on him and roping him into this whole thing.

  Gah! I’m so frustrated I want to bang my head against the wall.

  I retract my wings back so they’re no longer out. I don’t need these three men figuring out what my emotions and thoughts are because I couldn’t keep my wings under control.

  “Well, I did agree to that with Remington,” I admit, because it’s true—and I suspect if I don’t disclose this piece of information, Beckett will.

  Phoenix’s eyes gleam as he turns his attention to me.

  Oh, great. I’m starting to recognize that gleam in the eyes of the brothers, that moment where they smell an opportunity for more of the power that feeds them.

  “Oh? Is that on the table? An angel owing me a favor… Yeah, I gotta say, that’s a new one. Hadn’t thought of that. I figured you guys would be too high and mighty for that kind of shit.”

  “I try not to be, um, holier than thou,” I reply. Which is true.

  Phoenix seems to consider his answer, and my stomach gets more tangled up in knots with every second that ticks by. Was it a mistake to rope Beckett into helping me? And to get the others involved too? I know I need to redeem them, but surely I could’ve found some other way to do it that didn’t involve me owing them a bunch of favors. Upstairs will probably be pretty upset if they find out about this. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to Anderson when he comes to check in on me. I can’t lie to him, but I can’t tell him about this either. He’d probably blow a gasket.

  Should I have just told Anderson about the portal opening up and let the higher-up angels deal with it?

  No. No, I have to deal with this, if only to prove to Anderson and the rest of the board that I didn’t cause the sinkhole. And surely owing the sins a few favors isn’t as bad as letting a portal to Below go unchecked in a major metropolis.

  Phoenix squints at me, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. There’s something simultaneously lazy and sensual about the gesture—as if he could do so much with that tongue without even trying.

  “Here’s what I don’t understand, sugar. Why are you so gung-ho about closing this portal? Last I checked, humans weren’t so high up on the list of heavenly concerns. So why do you care if a bunch of them die? You’re more about winning the war than caring about the little people, am I right?”

  He is right, and it rankles at me. Phoenix might be annoying and self-centered, but he’s not dumb. None of the sins that I’ve met so far are. My people don’t really care about humans on a… a micro level, I guess you could say. We’re all about the big picture, which is winning the war against Downstairs. If that means sometimes humans have to pay a price, well then, it’s all in service to the greater good, isn’t it? You can’t worry constantly about the lives of the few when you’re concerned with the greater fate of the universe.

  Except, I do worry. I do care.

  I know it would probably get me a sigh and a lecture from Anderson or any of the others, but I care about the one life. I care about humans. They’re so strange and wonderful. So fascinating. I can’t just sit idly by and let humans get hurt.

  “You’ll get a favor from me too,” I promise Phoenix, choosing not to answer his other questions. “If you agree to help us with this portal, I’ll owe you a favor. Same as your brother. It’ll be fair.”

  The languid sin stares at me for a moment, and the silence stretches on for so long I start to wonder if he’s totally spaced out on us and is just thinking about a video game cheat code or the latest episode of Schitt’s Creek or something.

  But then a pleased smile stretches across his face. “All right then, angel. You’ve got a deal.”

  We shake on it. His grip is surprisingly firm, and up close, his eyes look bluer than I expected. If nothing else, I suppose he is good looking, just like all of the sins. He might not ever leave his house, but he’s probably not hurting for company when he wants it.

  Ugh. Come on, Trin. I pull away and tamp down that thought.

  The sins are supposed to be attractive. It’s what makes them so seductive and persuasive, what tempts people down paths they shouldn’t take. It’s one thing for humans to fall for their powers, but I can’t allow myself to be distracted or thrown off my game.

  Any more than I already have been.

  “Right.” Beckett jerks his chin toward the front door, as curt and commanding as ever. “Let’s get a move on then.”

  Phoenix, in true Sloth fashion, groans.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trinity

  Now that we’ve got Phoenix on board, we head back to New York City.

  On the way back, Remington keeps up a bit of chatter to start out with, obviously trying to broker some kind of goodwill between Phoenix and Beckett. But our new addition just takes this as an opportunity to pontificate about Fortnite and other video games, and Beckett threatens to pull the car over and kick Phoenix out so many times that Phoenix asks him tauntingly if he swapped sins with Ford.

  “Who’s Ford?” I ask as we approach the city and the traffic starts to become thick.

  Beckett’s hands tighten around the steering wheel.

  “Wrath,” Remington explains from the back seat. “That’s who we’re going to get next, isn’t it?”

  “Sure.” Beckett doesn’t sound pleased. I’ve heard his voice sound clipped before, but this is a whole other level. “We can do that.”

  Phoenix scoffs. “Oh, this is gonna be a real blast. This is gonna be great. Should I get popcorn?”

  “No.”

  I’m starting to get the impression that although they were all created at the same time, Beckett is the oldest sibling in every way that matters. Including being a control freak.

  Traffic is thick, but we finally reach our destination in an area called Washington Heights, where Beckett’s fancy car stands out like a sore thumb. We park along the street, and I worry that someone might steal it.

  Beckett sees my troubled expression as we climb out and he shrugs. His lips twitch, the first time I’ve seen him come close to smiling all day. “If someone gets greedy and takes it, I get to feed of
f their sin. And I can always buy a new one.”

  That’s true, he can. And someone acting out of greed gives him that surge of power he lives for, so I guess it’s a win-win situation for him.

  Beckett leads us down an alley and through the back door with roughly painted lettering that reads Tony’s Barber Shop - Employees Only. But if there actually is a barber shop at the front, we never see it.

  Instead, we slip through a dimly lit back room and through another door, then head down a dingy staircase. I feel Remington wrap his hand around my wrist as we walk. “It’s best if you stay close to us,” he murmurs from behind me, his mouth at my ear.

  “Why?” I ask, trying not to think about how warm and safe he sounds, how I want to lean back against him.

  “You’ll see.”

  Before I can ask for more information than that, we reach the bottom of the stairs. Beckett opens a heavy-looking metal door, and a blast of heat and noise hits me like a wave. I feel almost blown back, stumbling a little as we emerge into a huge underground room, much bigger than I expected.

  All around us, people are screaming, some cheering, some booing, others just yelling advice or obscenities.

  At first, they all look human, but then I start to notice things like how one group of people, men and women both, are all beefy and hairy with sharpened teeth and yellow eyes, and I realize they’re werewolves. An extremely pale woman with all-black eyes and a face that looks almost too pretty, like wax, glances at me as we pass by.

  A vampire, I realize. She’s a vampire.

  As if she’s heard my thoughts, she smiles hungrily at me, and a pair of wicked fangs like a pit viper’s gleam from underneath her too-red lips.

  Yikes.

  This is definitely a supernatural gathering place. But what are they gathering for? Why are they all cheering?

  People glare at us as we shove our way through the jostling crowd, and the three men tighten into a formation around me. Remington puts his arm around my shoulders, and Phoenix takes up guard on my left, while Beckett leads us.

  “Stay close, angel,” he growls over his shoulder.

  It’s the first time he’s called me that in hours. Weirdly, it makes me feel safer, like it’s a reassurance that he’s looking out for me.

  We push our way through the throng of bodies, and I can tell some of the creatures around us recognize what I am, because they glare at me with such hatred that I’m taken aback. I know supernatural creatures don’t really like my people—or the corrupted, for that matter, since we’re always fighting and stuff—but I had no idea that they would hate me personally so much. Just on principle.

  My heart thrums hard and fast in my chest, and I end up holding onto Remington with one hand and grabbing onto the back of Beckett’s shirt with the other. The dark-haired sin pauses for a moment and glances back at me; I expect him to look amused at my nerves, but he just nods and then turns back and keeps walking.

  I’m not sure if the people—the creatures—around us recognize that these three men are three of the seven sins. The sins aren’t meant to stand out the way some other supernatural creatures are. Their ability to blend in helps them influence people better. Like Beckett said, subtlety is key.

  But whether the creatures around us recognize that these are the sins themselves or not, people stay out of their way. Nobody tries to come after us or steps in our path to stop us. I think it’s because these three men are each, in their own way, making it extremely clear that you do not want to mess with them.

  Remington’s being quiet about it, but Phoenix looks like he’d be pissed as all get out if someone made him actually lift a finger to fight, so they better not even try, and Beckett’s radiating the same sort of commanding alpha energy he always does.

  Everyone shuffles back, ducking their head down. A few people mumble under their voices as they watch us pass, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. I doubt it’s flattering.

  We finally make it to the front of the crowd. I’m short, and a lot of the people around me are tall, so it’s hard for me to see until Remington gently places his palm at the small of my back and pushes me forward a little, his hands settling on my shoulders to keep making it clear to the creatures around us that I’m with him as I take in the scene before us.

  My breath hitches.

  The two men in the center of the ring are beating each other to a pulp. I inhale sharply as my stomach churns at the carnage.

  This isn’t a proper boxing fight. It isn’t even what you’d call a proper boxing ring. It’s more like a pit with a few chains strung around to keep the spectators from leaping in or the fighters from falling into the crowd. Though I’m not sure the crowd would mind all that much if that did happen. They all seem keyed up, full of blood lust.

  I’ve never seen anything like this before. How can you enjoy watching one person hurt another?

  “Why are we here?” I whisper to Remington, shrinking back against him a little. My wings quiver in my back, yearning to burst free and wrap themselves protectively around my body. “What are we looking for?”

  Remington bends down so that his mouth is right at my ear. “Ford. He’s in the ring right now.”

  I squint, watching the two men. It takes me a moment to adjust my eyes, to get used to how fast they’re moving and recognize them as two individuals rather than two blurs. But then they part, panting, and one of them catches my eye.

  This must be Ford. It has to be.

  It’s like I’ve seen a coiled tiger for the first time, and I can’t tear my gaze away. He’s the epitome of Wrath in this moment, radiating rage and fury. It’s churning the crowd into a frenzy—and they’re giving it right back to him. He’s feeding off of it. Like a loop.

  My teeth clamp down firmly on my bottom lip as I stare at the man before me.

  He’s… he’s beautiful.

  I really don’t know what I thought the personification of Wrath would look like, but I didn’t think it would be like this. Lean, coiled muscles, blond hair that looks like it would be soft when it’s not flopping into his eyes and dark with sweat, sparking blue eyes, a chiseled jaw that doesn’t look too harsh. There’s a perfect balance between hard and soft in the lines of his body, and it makes him look even deadlier, like his rage could be a whisper as well as a roar.

  Ford circles his opponent, baring his teeth in a smile that’s oddly charming even as it scares me a bit. It’s not fear for myself, but for the guy he’s up against. I can already tell that poor sucker doesn’t stand a chance.

  The blond man lunges forward, his fist cocking back and slamming into the side of his opponent’s face, and I can hear the poor guy’s head snap back. I gasp as the crowd cheers.

  Phoenix snorts, glancing at me. “What, is this too much for ya, sweets?”

  Remington soothingly massages my shoulders. “Take it easy on her, Nix, she’s used to being Above after all.”

  His brother snorts.

  “You’d better get used to it, angel,” Beckett tells me, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the roar of the crowd. He looks at me with a smirk on his face, and I glare at him in return. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that this is my first bareknuckle boxing match, but that doesn’t mean they all have to point out how freaked I look. I’m already painfully aware of it.

  Ford pummels his opponent for a few moments and then jumps back. He’s like a snake, darting in to strike with a speed I didn’t know was even possible. I wonder if that’s a supernatural ability, or if he’s just so well-trained and full of fury that it’s giving him an extra burst of strength.

  “He’s toying with him,” I murmur suddenly as realization strikes me.

  “You bet he is.” Phoenix glances around. “Damn, I need popcorn or something to go with this. Is there a snack bar around here?”

  Beckett shoots him a look of such frustration and disdain that Phoenix shrinks back a little—even though he’s still smirking.

  “Careful,” Remington says quietly. �
�Don’t let him get to you.”

  For a moment, I think that he’s talking to Beckett about Phoenix, but then the crowd roars as Ford lands another punch, and I realize he’s talking about their brother.

  Ford is radiating wrath, and everyone around him is responding to it. Even the other sins, apparently.

  The man Ford’s fighting transforms, claws extending, fangs jutting out like he’s got a whole extra set of jaws in his mouth, eyes going yellow. My body goes rigid, my eyes widening.

  He’s a werewolf. Not a man at all.

  I should have known he would be superhuman in some way, since this is a supernatural underground boxing arena, duh, but I didn’t really think about it.

  Werewolves can, or so I’ve heard, transform into full wolves. They usually take that form when they’re roaming around the forest or hunting with their pack. When they’re up against other supernatural creatures, they tend to only transform partway, to take advantage of still having a humanlike build but with the wolf capabilities.

  That’s what this guy’s doing right now. He’s all muscle, built like a brick house, and his hands look bigger than my entire face. I flinch as he takes a swipe at Ford. Those claws of his could rip Wrath’s entire face off.

  I flinch, pressing back against Remington as if the claws are coming at me instead of the sin in the ring. Ford’s taunting his opponent, only enraging the guy more, making him sloppy.

  Phoenix glances at me, then puts a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, gorgeous, don’t worry about it. Ford’s never lost a fight, and he’s not about to now. He’s just teasing him, see? He’s gonna come out of this just fine.”

  “It would serve him right to lose a fight once in a while,” Beckett notes. “It might make him humble for once.”

  Phoenix’s hand drops as he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at Beckett, but the tall man ignores him, keeping his gaze fixed on the fight.

  Ford’s up against the chains, and I can’t help but wonder how he’s going to defeat someone who’s made of so much muscle, someone who must weigh twice what he does—