Pretty Faces (The Fallen Gods Book 6)

by K. A Knight

  “Like a torture or red room situation?” I smirk, touching my flame thrower, and he groans and steps closer. His gaze lowers to my body for a moment before he meets mine again.

  “Don’t say shit like that unless you plan to follow through,” he growls.

  “City overrun with zombies,” I remind him, and he smirks.

  “They aren’t going anywhere.”

  Laughing, I turn and throw him a spare harness. It’s big, so it might fit him. “Here, grab whatever you want.”

  He comes around the table and grabs me instead, grinning. “Do you count?”

  “Incorrigible,” I murmur as he lowers his head. I grab his chin to still him, applying pressure, my animals purring at the dominance in that touch. “Show me your true face, and I’ll play with you.”

  He freezes, tilting his head to the side as his black eyes lock on mine. “You wouldn’t like my true face, amore,” he whispers sadly.

  “Who says I won’t?” I snap.

  “Me,” he replies and steps back. “It even disgusts me.” He turns away, leaving me gaping after him. Is that the true reason he wears others’ faces? Not just to blend in and be able to hunt, but because he can’t stand his own face?

  Why?

  Then it hits me, the torture… How much could a god heal? Did it scar him? Does the thought of his own face remind him of when he was a child?

  “Is it because you think there will be pain if you are in your own skin? Like your parents did to you?” I ask, watching as his back hunches. I feel the room drop a few degrees as he turns and glares at me.

  “What did you say?” he demands dangerously, his voice vibrating with menace.

  “They hurt you, tortured you to get you to wear others’ skins. Are you afraid, deep down, that if you wear your own that it will lead to pain?” I angle my head as he watches me, the wild god now present. The teasing man has disappeared, and for some reason, feeling that sudden hate and anger aimed at me nearly makes me moan. “I saw it in the library, in a book. They tortured you to get your powers out. Are you still really afraid of that, so many years later?”

  “Stop,” he growls, stepping closer. “Stop talking right fucking now.”

  I smile, knowing I’m getting to him. This seems important. I wasn’t even going to push, but I hate that he hides from me. That I don’t even know the face of the man I fucked. The man I risked it all for without even knowing why. Yet he could blend into the crowd and leave me, and I would never know the real him. He saw me vulnerable in my animal state, but he won’t show me his. “You saw my shift, saw me defenceless. Turnabout is fair play. You hate your face, and you clearly hate the memories it brings. Well, so do I when I turn. Show me.”

  His head lowers, the stance typical of a charging animal, his nostrils flare, his lips flatten, and his eyes narrow. “Is that so? Then what are you hiding, amore?” He mutters the term of endearment angrily, and it lashes through me. “The creature I saw in your eyes, the one you fucked out of your system with me. You accuse me of running from my past, of letting it shape me, but aren’t you doing the same?”

  I grind my teeth, and it’s my turn to glare. “That has nothing to do with you.”

  “And neither does this,” he roars, the force almost sending me stumbling backwards, but I stand my ground, staring him down. I won’t cower like the others do, I don’t fear his anger or hatred. There’s nothing he could do to me that hasn’t been done before. I’m not weak. I’m a fucking survivor, a goddamn animal and hunter. He will never hurt me because I won’t let him. “Do not push me, amore. I’m warning you to drop it. Now get your weapons and let’s go.” With that, he turns away and grabs some blades without even looking at me, leaving me staring at him with a feeling of rejection flowing through me.

  Why do I care?

  He’s nothing to me, just a quick fuck and hunting partner until we go our separate ways. I drew that line, I pushed him away, didn’t want him… So why does him doing the same make me want to stab him?

  Because somehow, I have a weird claim over this face god, and even my animals are in agreement. They see him as ours, and we don’t like the fact that he just may not be. That he may be using me as much as I used him.

  Did the player get played?

  Did the predator become the prey and didn’t even know?

  Turning away, I swallow and go through the motions of checking the weapons and sheathing them as my mind stumbles through my turbulent, confusing thoughts. My heart hammers with an emotion I can’t describe. He was my target, then my duty…then my fuck buddy, so why do I even care?

  Why does him turning away from me make my stomach roll?

  One thing is for sure—when this is over, I need to get as far away from this god as I can because he has some strange control over me, and when he realises that…

  He will have the power to destroy me.

  We decide to start at the source—the graveyard.

  After grabbing all the weapons we can, we get in the car, and without a word, I drive us to the closest one. There is tension between us, but we are both intent on stopping what’s happening no matter how pissed we are at each other. The dirt is upturned, the coffins are broken open, and the headstones are smashed and covered in fresh blood. Human and witch, if I’m not mistaken. There are also pentagrams drawn across the ground with skulls and hearts surrounding them. Whoever this necromancer is, they are strong and smart.

  The graveyard is clear though. We check two more, and they are all the same. It seems they have emptied all the graves and turned the dead from the city. But why? What will the chaos achieve for them, apart from being noticed? Unless it’s a distraction? But from what? The thoughts run through my head as we make our way through the city, stopping as many as we can, but we are both aware we need to find the cause of this and stop them. Otherwise, for each undead we kill, two will take their place. And if this city is overwhelmed…what’s next?

  The whole world?

  My creature is starting to escape also. All the death, bloodshed, and screams are calling to it. Not to mention the man at my side is covered in blood, and watching him effortlessly kill these creatures is also enticing it. I’m riding a thin line of it breaking free and causing more mayhem than even the zombies. It makes me angrier, needier, until I’m purposely going out of my way to rip the zombies apart. To feel the blood spraying across me and the rush of death. It could be it was called by my confusion and hurt…but the pain isn’t as bad as that night it came before. I’m not hurting physically, yet here it is.

  But I can’t afford to be weak, not when a powerful magic user is running rampant through the city. I need all the strength I’ve developed over the years, all of the skills I’ve finely honed to stop this person. Hell, maybe even the council will forgive me if I stop them and give me another chance… Do I really want one though? Ever since that strike through my name when I became their enemy, I’ve felt free.

  Unowned.

  I thought that when I accepted the job with them to escape the pack that I was finally free. I had my own place, yet it was just a different type of control. Carefully being the good little hunter, playing the role just as I played the role of omega for my pack. All my life, I have been tied down and in cages constructed by others, and now I feel…whole. Like I’m finally becoming who I was always meant to be. Even if it means a life on the run.

  “We need to find the necromancer,” Khalid snarls as he kills a zombie that’s eating the partially decimated corpse of a human male. “And fast. They’re getting stronger the more they feed.”

  “Where do we find them?” I ask, looking around.

  “We follow the magic,” he replies and looks over at me. “We need to work together. I need your hunting skills. If you were a necromancer, where would you hide where you could see everything but be untouched?”

  I debate it, pursing my lips as I fling a knife and it embeds in a charging zombie, dropping it to the ground. “The hill above the city, but it’s to
o open. Maybe an apartment. No, too much open space. I would want to be inside it, watching, but far enough apart so no one would ask questions or disturb—” I suck in a breath, and he steps closer.

  “You have thought of something?” he queries as we hear gun fire close by and the screams of humans. Our best way to save them is to stop the necromancer, but the cries make me want to help, make my creature lick its lips.

  “There’s a place.” I look over at him. “It used to be a council meeting place before they moved their headquarters. Now it’s deserted. It’s on the hill to the right of the city, overlooking it all. An old manor with the royal crest. It also has its own graveyard of supes.”

  “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s a good place to start.”

  I nod, and we turn to head back to the car where we parked it down the street. “Why do you think they are doing this?”

  “I don’t know. It feels organised, too purposeful to be an accident or their powers just bursting, out of control,” he mutters as we stop to kill a few zombies before we carry on walking.

  “You think they planned this?”

  He nods, and I look around.

  “But why? Surely it draws attention to them, which they wouldn’t want…unless it’s exactly what they want—to draw attention. But why?”

  “I guess we ask when we find them.”

  It takes us around ten minutes to get out of the city. We drive past burning cars and infested buildings. Humans are flooding the streets and running, trying to escape, and we stop and help as many as we can before we gun it to the mansion. When we get there, we find the forgotten iron gates warped in the middle, as if they were blown open. We climb through carefully, and there, across the two large double doors, is a message written in fresh, dripping red blood.

  I smell magic, death, darkness, and evil. There was evil here, but something else as well. Something old, something fresher than the blood, and whoever it was, they were here recently.

  Think to stop me, my love? This city is my present for you, a warning of what is to come. Stop searching, or the world will burn next.

  The radio of the car behind us crackles to life then. “I repeat, the undead are disappearing. The city is being taken back, please stay inside. Stay safe, but know the streets are once again ours. What is not known is where these creatures came from or why they are suddenly leaving, but celebrations have begun—” I hurry to the car, leaning in to flick it off, and meet Khalid’s eyes.

  “Whoever the necromancer is, they wanted someone’s attention badly enough to rip through an entire city, and I think they were here, which is why they have stopped,” I surmise, and he nods his agreement.

  “I think you’re right. We need to find them,” he frowns, “before the council finds us. Let’s start with the supe side of town to see if they know anything, now that it’s not overrun.”

  “At least the city is safe for now,” I offer.

  “True, but now the world knows creatures like us exist. Amore, they won’t stop until they eradicate us all. We have just been outed, and now, even the council can’t save us. Before this gets better, it’s about to get a whole lot worse, and that necromancer is to blame. We need to hunt them and find out why. We need the truth. It’s clear whoever it is wants to watch the world burn, and we have to stop that. Are you with me?” he asks, his black eyes meeting mine. Despite our rocky…erm, friendship, I would say I have no other answer.

  “Of course.”

  I guess the hunt just began.

  KHALID

  The city is still mad, but it gives us cover to slip to the other side and try to reach out and learn if anyone saw anything without the council being alerted. I’m betting they have bigger things to deal with right now, but they won’t catch this necromancer. I felt their power, and it was stronger than any I have ever felt…stronger than even me or my brothers’ magic.

  It was pure power, and it was evil. Its eyes are set on this world, but why?

  My life has been dedicated to stopping evil and those intent on hurting innocents in hopes of protecting my mate. Yet here I am, with her at my side, hunting down the biggest monster I have ever felt. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Together, we stand a chance of stopping whatever this is before it gets too bad. And it will get bad, I know that. I can feel it, the purpose in the air, and the world is holding its breath. Maybe this was coming all along. Maybe the Librarian was right.

  The world will end.

  Can we stop it in time?

  And when we do…what then?

  Remi leads me to a warehouse where strays hang out. Apparently, they are the best for information on what’s happening on the streets. They are a misfit band of random shifters, vamps, hell, I even smell a fucking troll in here as we step inside. The overwhelming stench of unwashed supes and blood fills the air, making my nose crinkle, but Remi doesn’t even hesitate. I watch her, following closely behind. We have barely spoken. She agreed to help me hunt the necromancer, but the space between us is tense. Damaged. All because I flipped when she brought up my past.

  It took me by surprise. My mate has every right to ask, but I wasn’t ready, and she’s right—I’m not over what happened. My first response was to hurt her, to make it stop, and now I might have ruined the budding trust between us.

  She moves through the big, abandoned room to a door at the back, which is painted a peeling, rusted green. She knocks, and the slat slides open before eyes peer through, only it’s at the bottom of the door. With a grunt, it slides shut and opens to reveal a dwarf. “Fuck you want, hunter?”

  “Nice to see you again, Freddy.” She laughs and pushes past him. He grumbles, his body vibrating with magic, while I just stare. It’s not often you see them in public, and Remi seems familiar with him. He looks back at me and glares.

  “Who’s the pretty boy ginger?” he snarls.

  “Don’t be jealous, Freddy.” She sniggers and nods her head at me. “He’s helping me out, come on.” She turns the corner at the end, and I slide past the glaring man with a grin and follow after her.

  I hear him mutter something, and then the door shuts, but I’m too busy gawking, because after turning the corner, I’m greeted with what I can only describe as a mansion. It’s filled with riches, sofas, TVs, and even trees. There is an environment for every stray. Pixies float on a tree. Fae curl up on some fur beneath it. There’s a bear shifter in a den in the corner. A vamp on the sofa with what must be his blood bag. They are all getting along and don’t seem to notice as we come in.

  “What is this place?” I ask in shock.

  “The place where the unwanted come,” she informs me, looking around with a smile. “I never shut it down because they aren’t hurting anyone. They are just finding some place to belong,” she murmurs, and I glance at her to see her eyes far away. “I know how that feels.” She turns and heads up some stairs without another word.

  Swallowing, I trail after her with only a backwards glance. She wanders along the top of the warehouse, passing closed doors. I hear noises behind some, but I choose to ignore it. If my mate trusts these people, so will I. After all, they haven’t hurt us yet. They may be lost, ferals and strays…but maybe they aren’t all so bad. Maybe they are just alone and searching for their place like me… Like her.

  She knocks on a door at the end, and before anyone can answer, she pushes it open and strides inside like she owns the place. I follow her, shutting the door, only to see a man lounging on the bed. I sniff the air and smell wolf, and my eyes narrow. He’s naked and lying there without a care. Like the rest of his kind, he’s comfortable in his own skin. He’s covered in tattoos, his brown hair is shoulder length, and his eyes are a bright amber, which lock on my mate as a smile tips up his lips.

  “Rem,” he greets, and I instantly want to kill him. He’s looking at my mate, called her a nickname… I want to rip him to pieces. Like she can feel my intent, she steps in front of me, blocking me while I’m almost salivating. My fists clench with the ne
ed to kill this bastard. “What do I owe the pleasure?” He runs his eyes over me then. “Or is it pleasure I owe?”

  That’s it—

  Her hand lands on my arm, stilling me. “I need information.”

  “Shame.” He sits up, his abs clenching as he moves, and darts his gaze to me for a moment with a wink. “Double shame.”

  My eyes widen, and he laughs. “So what does the great hunter need to know?”

  “The zombies—”

  “Ah, yes, wasn’t that fun?” He grins, and she presses her back to my chest like she can still feel my jealousy and possessiveness. Unable to help it, I grip her hips in a warning and a declaration to him. He sees it and nods in understanding, and I relax a little. A wolf knows the claiming of territory when they see it.

  “It’s a necromancer. I need to know if anyone in your…family saw anything,” she hedges. “We are hunting them.”

  He tilts his head, his gaze going far away for a moment. “I’ve asked. While we wait, would you like a drink?”

  “You asked? How?” I demand with a frown as he stands and strides over to a small bar in the corner and pours himself a drink. My nose twitches and my eyes widen at the stench of wolfsbane. Isn’t that poisonous? He must see my expression, because he chuckles.

  “Better I poison myself in small doses to grow accustomed to it than it be used against me.” He drains it and sits down, watching us. “I am an alpha, and I have a pack like any other. We are able to communicate mentality as any other would. It’s just that my pack isn’t all wolves.”

  “I didn’t know that was even possible,” I comment, and he shrugs.