Dark Kings

by Sadie Moss

  And then Ford explodes into action. He leaps at the werewolf, fists flying so fast I can’t even see them properly. There’s a snarl on Ford’s face, a vicious kind of glee that I’ve never seen before, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s his rage. He’s waited until his opponent is cocky and worn out, and now he’s taking his chance.

  Again and again, Ford hits his opponent, striking him hard right in the jaw as blood and spit go flying.

  This is how he wins, I think suddenly. This pure, focused rage.

  I’ve never seen anyone channel anger like this. He probably doesn’t even feel his own injuries or fatigue. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the world around him; the screams and yells of the crowd fall on deaf ears. He’s not letting his opponent distract him in any way.

  He’s just unleashing his fury.

  Ford pummels his opponent until the werewolf collapses to his knees. My stomach twists, and Phoenix whoops. I can’t even see the man’s face anymore, it’s so obscured by the blood and by Ford’s fists.

  “I might be sick,” I admit, my voice strained.

  “Wrath’s not your sin, huh? I’m not surprised.” Phoenix’s words are flippant, but he does seem a little worried as he glances at me. “Geez, Remi, she’s going fucking green. Get her some water or something.”

  “I’m a chef, not a wizard. There’s a difference. I can’t conjure food out of thin air.” Remington rubs my shoulders, massaging my back. “You okay?”

  I nod. I’m not going to throw up or anything, I don’t think. But it really is a lot.

  There’s something almost beautiful about how Ford moves. He’s at the top of his game, an artist of violence, graceful and deadly. His muscles are glistening with sweat, and they shift and ripple, growing taut as he winds them up.

  It’s kind of like watching a dancer. I’m entranced in spite of myself.

  Ford’s opponent slumps to the ground, and he doesn’t get back up again. The crowd roars as a burly announcer leaps into the ring and yanks Ford’s hand up into the air, declaring him the victor and “reigning champion.”

  “All right,” Beckett drawls. “Now’s our chance.”

  The crowd starts moving around, calling for the next match or yelling for an autograph from Ford. Some are yelling for a lot more than an autograph, and Phoenix snorts in amusement. The announcer begins introducing the next pair of fighters as people who look like medics of some kind rush up to take care of the downed werewolf. Beckett begins to move, cutting a swath through the crowd, and the rest of us follow.

  We make our way through to the back, where it’s dingy and dark, and pass down a short, dark hallway before we emerge into the locker rooms.

  Ew, I bet there’s mold everywhere here. It looks like the kind of place where rats hang out in the corners.

  Ford’s made his way here too and is undoing the tape around his knuckles, sitting on a bench in the middle of the room. He stands up as we enter, his legs spread a bit, one foot slightly behind the other. A fight stance, I realize. Or not quite a fight stance, but the preparation of one. He’s ready to drop into it at any moment.

  He’s glaring at us with such anger that I’m taken aback, but then Ford growls, “Beckett, you son of a bitch,” and I realize that he’s not glaring at all of us—just at his oldest brother.

  “Ford,” Beckett replies, more restrained than his brother but still sounding pissed off. “Wasting yourself as usual, I see.”

  “You condescending, controlling prick—” Ford snaps, stalking forward. “I told you if you ever showed your face around here again, I was gonna beat you senseless. You really so bored you need to get the shit kicked out of you to find somethin’ to occupy your time? Huh? Done with bein’ pampered in your fancy fuckin’ mansion?”

  Ford really is beautiful, hovering on the edge between soft boyishness and pure, muscled man, and just watching the way his body moves causes heat to stir inside of me. But the look on his face is nothing short of murderous.

  I remember what he did to his opponent in the ring, and that was when he was fighting for sport, holding back. How is he going to be when he’s genuinely angry? When he’s fighting for personal reasons, not just because he’s the personification of Wrath?

  My feet stumble backward instinctively as Beckett steps forward to meet his brother. “You’re going to learn to start talking to me with respect,” he snaps.

  I’ve never heard him sound like this before. Is Ford’s wrath affecting him?

  Before Ford can say anything more, Beckett lunges forward. His brother moves to counter him, both of them catching each other in midair with a flurry of blows. I shriek in surprise. “Stop! What are you doing?”

  The two men battle wildly, and Phoenix takes a neat step out of the way.

  “And we’ve got a serious contender here, folks,” he drawls, sounding like a sarcastic version of the announcer from the arena. “Wow, look at these two go! Could Ford finally have met his match after all? Will his sheer idiot brute anger win out against his opponent’s egotistical, maniacal greed? Who knows!”

  “You’re not helping, Nix.” Remington rolls his eyes, his tone firm but not angry.

  Oh, crap. This is terrifying.

  The two men are crashing around the space, slamming each other into the walls, hitting with fists and elbows and knees. They’re attacking with such viciousness that I’m scared they’ll actually kill each other. I yell at them to stop, but I don’t think either of them can even hear me.

  This is ridiculous. Insane. They’re both going to get seriously hurt, and for no good reason.

  Ford manages to get the upper hand briefly, and he crashes onto Beckett. The two of them roll across the floor, nearly knocking into me. Before I can even blink, Remington grabs me and spins me around, pinning me to the wall and shielding me with his body.

  His arms are on either side of my head, his solid frame pressed up against me completely.

  All the breath leaves my lungs in a rush.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Remington

  The poor girl is trembling.

  Trinity is clutching me, shaking, peering over my shoulder as her wide eyes watch my two brothers duking it out. She’s never seen anything like this before, I’m sure. Poor angel.

  “They’re going to kill each other!” she whispers. “You have to stop it!”

  Shaking my head, I let out a sigh. “I try to keep the peace as much as I can, but I know how to pick my battles.”

  Beckett and Ford are the most hot-headed of my brothers—with the possible exception of Ryland. One could argue that we’re all hot-headed in our own way, and I suppose that’s true. We’re all very stubborn, and we’re set in our ways. It’s not surprising, given that we’ve been at this for millennia. It would take a lot to truly shake us up and change our habits.

  “I don’t understand.” Trinity looks close to tears, her brown eyes shining up at me. “How are you so calm?”

  Hard work and dedication, honestly.

  I used to try to intercede every time my brothers fought, but that just gave me a headache and constant anxiety. They always find a way to survive, in the end. Right now, the only thing I’m worried about is Trinity getting hurt. She’s a sweet thing.

  I’ve got no love for angels. None of us do. But she’s different than anyone from Upstairs I’ve ever met. Maybe it was her fall that changed her, or maybe she’s always been like this, but there’s something so vibrant and pure about her that it draws me in.

  When she indulged in my food earlier, she was so wholehearted about it, like she’d never experienced anything like it. The sweet ecstasy on her face made heat course through me. Even now, having her pressed against me is doing things to my body, and I have to make sure I maintain control.

  Luckily, all the years spent keeping my temper around my brothers has given me a lot of practice.

  “They’re going to be all right,” I reassure her quietly.

  “How?” The angel still
sounds confused, and another tremor wracks her body. “They’re going to hurt each other!”

  “Not necessarily.” I take one hand off the wall and tilt her chin to meet my gaze, drawing her focus away from the fight and onto me. “Ford’s difficult to deal with, it’s true. But they always work it out in the end. Wrath burns hot, but once the fuel is all burned away, there will be calm… for a while, at least. They just need to work off some steam.”

  “This is working off steam? They’re hurting each other! Brothers shouldn’t fight like this.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at that. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about us. And about humans, Trin.” I tend to give people nicknames, and I hope she doesn’t object to this one. She doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “Brothers do fight. Not always quite like this, but still. When you’ve been around as long as we have, grudges build up. Besides, we’re not brothers in the usual sense. We came into existence at the same time, so we see each other as family in some ways. But in other ways, we feel like we’re just stuck with each other. Trapped, I guess. So it gets frustrating.”

  At least with Ford and Beckett, it’ll wear off quickly. Once they get this latest grudge out of their system, they’ll go back to just occasionally poking at each other. It’s how they are.

  Trinity licks her lips, still gazing up at me. “Are you sure they’ll be okay?”

  “I’m sure.”

  And I mean it. Nix is still offering his color commentary, and he wouldn’t be doing that if things were really serious.

  She lets out a soft breath, like she’s trying to calm herself, trying to believe what I say. But she glances over my shoulder again, still apparently concerned.

  The angel seems so wide-eyed about everything. It makes me want to corrupt her a little. To make her more… human. Less of a sheltered angel from Above and more like me. I want to show her the world and all of its possibilities. I want to feed her and taste her indulgence and have it not be a desire for home, but a desire to explore. A desire to discover. A desire to taste everything, feel everything. Including me.

  That’s quite a dangerous line of thinking to go down though, and I try to stay away from that kind of thing. I like to have my fun, causing chaos as I indulge myself and others. It’s in my nature, and all my brothers like to do the same in their own way. Ford does it by fighting so viciously in the ring, getting everyone’s anger and bloodlust raging. There’s a part of him in every riot, whether it’s for good reasons like Stonewall or bad reasons like the massacre at Tiananmen Square.

  I cause chaos subtly. I make people want to keep indulging so much that they give up everything else—namely reason and logic. Wars have been started that way. I take pride in my work, even though I don’t exactly like to cause suffering.

  Does Trinity know that’s the kind of person that I am? That we all are?

  I want her to explore the world that’s laid out before her, but I don’t want her to be callous or cruel. And I almost don’t want her to know the truth about us and all that we’ve done. She seems wary around us, but she’s willing to offer me and my brother favors in exchange for our help. That’s no small thing. It means she trusts us, at least a bit.

  And oddly, I don’t want to break that trust.

  “We have a winner!” Nix crows, breaking me from my thoughts. I look over my shoulder to see that Ford has Beckett pinned. That’s how these matches always end. Ford’s the only one who can beat Beckett in a fight, but I sometimes wonder if Beckett lets him win—because at the end of the day, Wrath still knows who the alpha is, and that’s our brother Greed.

  Ford gets to his feet, teeth bared. He’s still practically growling, but the rage in him is dissipating, sated for now.

  “What do you want?” he demands. “For real.”

  Beckett stands and straightens out his suit, brushing the dust off, as if that’s going to salvage it after the savage beating Ford put it through. Seeing that the danger has passed, I step away from Trinity. It’s harder than I would’ve expected to leave the soft warmth of her body against mine.

  “Come here, angel.” Beckett jerks his chin toward her, and I watch her body respond instantly.

  Whether she wants to admit it or not, my brother affects her. And whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s got a soft spot for her.

  Trinity walks over, a bit wary but standing close to Beckett like she thinks Ford might leap at her next.

  “Go easy on her,” I say. I can’t help it; it’s my instinct to make sure everyone gets along. Indulgence comes from pleasure and peace, after all, not from my siblings all beating the shit out of one another.

  “Yeah? Why would I do that?” Ford snorts.

  “Ford,” Beckett says, his voice calm and controlled once again. “This is Trinity. She needs our help closing the demonic portal that you might have noticed opened recently. Or not. You may have been a bit too busy here.”

  Ford bares his teeth again like a wolf. “Yeah, been a bit busy. Who the fuck cares if demons come crawling around here? Ain’t my fucking problem.”

  “Trinity is graciously offering a favor to each of us in exchange for our help in the matter,” Beckett goes on.

  He does know how to make a deal, our Beck. But Ford doesn’t look like he’s buying it.

  He scowls. “Why would I want a favor from her?”

  “I don’t know,” Trinity says honestly. “But there must be something you want that I can help you with.”

  Ford’s eyes flash with pain, and I feel sympathy for him. He wasn’t always like this, after all. Yes, he’s always been Wrath—it’s who he is. But the anger he feels now comes from a deep pain, one that I’ve tried to talk to him about. He won’t open up to me, or to any of us. It’s one thing to be full of rage just because that’s how you were made, it’s another to have that rage be fueled by a wound you can’t seem to close.

  “There ain’t nothin’ she can help me with,” Ford growls. Then he pauses. “Wait, you said ‘each of us’. You gettin’ the whole gang together, Beck?”

  “Beckett.” Our brother’s voice is hard. Nicknames are kind of my thing, so I’m allowed to call him Beck, but he doesn’t like to let any of the others get away with it. “And no. I don’t think this will require all of us. The four of us should be able to handle this on our own.”

  “They picked me third because they’re stupid and overly optimistic,” Phoenix points out with a grin on his face.

  “Believe me, I’ll regret that choice until the day I die.”

  “Huh.” Ford narrows his eyes at Beckett. “You don’t want to give Ryland a call? See if he wants to team up for this little mission you’ve got goin’ on?”

  There’s a harsh edge to his voice, and just like he probably expected, Beckett’s jaw tightens.

  Ah. Yes. Of course Wrath is itching to see the showdown between Beckett and Ryland. I’ll have my hands full trying to keep them from actually murdering each other. At least Ford and Beckett sort their shit out quickly, with no lasting damage. Beckett and Ryland… that’s a whole different story.

  “We don’t need him,” Beckett says coldly. “And we don’t need y—”

  “I’ll be there.” Ford cuts him off with a quick nod of his head. “I could use a good fuckin’ fight. But you.” He jabs his finger at Trinity. “I don’t want shit from you. Hear me?”

  Trinity nods. She looks terrified and almost hurt by his obvious fury at her offer.

  Ford stalks away to go clean himself up, and Beckett sighs. “He won’t hurt you, angel. We’ll make sure of it.”

  She jerks slightly in surprise, wrenching her gaze away from Ford’s retreating form to stare wide-eyed up at Beckett, seeming shocked by his promise of protection.

  I bite back an amused smile. Yup, Beckett definitely has a soft spot for her.

  This will be interesting.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Trinity

  Holy frick. Honestly, I’ve never come so close to peeing my pants in my enti
re existence.

  It was terrifying to be on the receiving end of Wrath’s rage like that. Ford is a force of pure fury, and I’m still not sure how I’m standing upright.

  And all he did was speak to me. He went after Beckett like he was trying to kill him.

  Beckett, however, seems totally unaffected now. Maybe it’s his pride that won’t let him show it, but I honestly think he doesn’t see their fight as a big deal.

  I seriously don’t understand the dynamic between these men—not at all.

  We all go back to Beckett’s place, since he’s the one with room for everyone and his place is actually in the city, although Phoenix does complain about wanting to go back to his fortified mansion in the middle of nowhere.

  “I know a guy who’s got his ear to the ground on this kind of shit,” Ford grunts as we step off the elevator into the penthouse. “A demon bookie. Runs all kinds of shit. I’ll find out where he’ll be tomorrow. We can pin him down then, see what he knows. Rattle him a little.”

  “If we could manage this without scaring him to death or breaking any bones, that would be great,” Remington puts in dryly.

  “Bedtime, then?” Phoenix actually perks up as he speaks, like he’s been waiting for this all day.

  “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ford sneers. “Lazy motherfucker.”

  Phoenix just rolls his eyes and starts raiding Beckett’s fridge.

  “Take whatever rooms you want,” Beckett says. It’s a clear dismissal, an order from the CEO, and we all scatter.

  I go back to the room that I took as my own after Beckett officially let me into the house. But even after I change into a comfy—and unfortunately, skimpy—pair of pajamas and crawl into the luxurious bed, I can’t possibly sleep. My head is buzzing with all the events of the day, and my body is so worn out from stress that I feel like I just rode a dozen roller coasters back to back.