Betrayer (Hidden Book 7)

by Colleen Vanderlinden

  “We were careful,” Erin said.

  “You had Cathleen holding him by herself,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  “She’s fully capable of doing that,” Quinn said. “When we spar, she comes close to besting me more often than not.”

  “Yeah, and someday I will,” Cathleen warned, and Quinn grinned.

  “If you say so,” he told her, then he turned his gaze back to me. “I would not have had her guarding him if I thought otherwise.”

  I swallowed the response I was about to give, that he should have put a second guard on him, just in case. This was exactly what Brennan had been trying to tell me about needing to trust them. I was not there yet, but I could at least respect that Quinn knew the New Guardians better than I did at this point, and that he seemed to genuinely care about keeping them safe and having them in top fighting form.

  “Thank you,” I said instead. “I will escort him to the Netherwoods,” I said. I had mentioned to my New Guardians that I had had a falling out with Mollis, because in the horrible event that one of them might be taken by the enemy, I needed it to look as if even my closest allies knew I was fighting with Mollis. They did not know any details, and that was probably for the best. As far as they knew, I just left them somewhere in the Netherwoods, and they were taken care of. It was all they needed to know, for now.

  I glanced at our soul, who was lying silently on the ground, seething, Quinn and Cathleen ready to grab him if he tried anything stupid. “Our other soul here is Anselm Fisker. He was active near the docks, especially to the west.” I thought back to what I knew of him. “He was not tall, perhaps only a few inches taller than I am. He had pale blond hair, a very angular, sharp look about him. He married women and then killed them. Usually he dumped their bodies there, and that was how he was found.”

  Erin made a sound of disgust.

  “How many did he kill?” Claire asked.

  “He wedded and murdered five wives,” I said. “If you would start patrolling the west end docks, we can get a head start on finding him, hopefully. When I return from taking this one to his judgment, I will join you.”

  They all nodded, and Quinn met my eyes before turning and following the rest of them in the direction that would take them to the docks.

  I watched them go, then pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a text to Mollis: “RWYA.” Shortened code for “ready when you are,” as in, if she was able to get away and meet me in the church, I could meet her there. I waited for a few minutes, and my phone finally dinged.

  “NiF.” Now is fine. I put my phone back in my pocket, hauled Larssen up to his feet, and focused on rematerializing in the abandoned church in Detroit.

  I kept a hold on Larssen’s arm and looked around. Shadows played across the graffitied walls, and a rat scurried where the pulpit had once stood.

  Within moments, Mollis appeared a few feet away from me.

  “Thanks, E,” she said, pulling me into a hug.

  One glance at her told me things were not right. It had been fewer than two days since I had captured my last soul, and even then, she had looked tired, tense. The goddess who stood before me now was even paler than usual, the bluish veins beneath her skin visible. She had the stretched, painful look of someone who had lost too much weight too quickly, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look much, much older than she actually was.

  “Mollis,” I whispered. She met my eyes, and for just a second, I thought she would cry. I thought she would let go of the control she holds so dearly.

  Instead, she looked away, hunching her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with,” she said. Her voice was hollow, hard. I could just imagine how Nain was handling this drastic change in his mate, and I was immediately beset with guilt. I needed to work faster. I needed to do more.

  “Fuck that mess, E,” Mollis growled, and my gaze shot back to her face. She was glaring at me, a feral, angry expression replacing the exhausted one. “You’re doing more than anyone. Do not do that. Do not beat yourself up. It pisses me off.”

  “I have the feeling everything pisses you off of late, demon girl,” I said, trying to lighten her mood. It did not work.

  “Everything does. Yeah,” she said. Her gaze went to the soul, and his eyes widened and he started begging. “We’re gonna get some answers today,” she said, and the ice in her voice was enough to make even me feel like running. “The sooner you talk, the sooner the pain will stop,” she told him. And then it began.

  I was the only one who has ever seen my Queen this way, and I know I was likely the only one, including her mate, who could come away from it without being totally unsettled. It was in moments like these when she was every bit Hades’ daughter, with the righteous rage of a Fury. His cold, calculating, frighteningly accurate punishments, along with the sheer strength that comes from being her mother’s daughter. Her punishment was a scalpel when it needed to be, a bludgeon, a blade, fire and fear. She used it all, bringing her prey to the edge of ceasing to exist, and then pulling him back from the abyss only to begin again.

  It was during moments like this when she was everything she usually tried to pretend she was not. This was when she fully became what she feared most about herself. All I could do was stand by and watch, and wait for her to ask for help. She usually did not.

  Mollis broke into his mind, and, based on her infuriated muttering, found the same blank space the Furies have found in every recaptured soul, as well as in the minds of my sisters when we’ve managed to take them. Neither of us paid any attention to his screams as they eventually turned to sobs, then whimpers.

  “I feel filthy just looking in here. Remind me to maim you as part of your punishment,” Mollis hissed at Larssen, and he started crying again. “You are a sick little shit, you know that?”

  He just cried, and Mollis exchanged a look with me and rolled her eyes. She had even less respect for the ones who cried. She grew disgusted eventually, frustrated, and she kicked him, hard, and he went silent.

  She blew out a breath, put her hands on her hips, and paced back and forth, her humongous wings sweeping the thick dust on the stone floor. “There has to be some way to get around that,” she muttered. “You can’t hide things from me. I’m the motherfucking God of Death. Final judge and jury. This is…”

  “This is something we will figure out,” I said, trying to rein her back in. “Is it just blank, or do you feel something there?”

  “It’s blank,” she said, still pacing. “But it’s weird. I mean, I know how it’s done. I’ve done it,” she said, and I knew this was not something she was especially proud of. Before she knew what she could do, or who she was, she’d taken the memories of mortals who had crossed her path, because she did not want to be known or remembered.

  That ship had very clearly sailed.

  But it made sense for her then, and she had done it fairly often. It was something only Furies could do, which was why, unfortunately, her mother and aunt were our prime suspects.

  “It all seems far too clean and easy to me,” I said quietly, rubbing my hand over my shoulder.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you considered that your mother and aunt know very well that we know the memories are being erased, and that they are the only ones other than you who can do that?”

  “Anyone who is stupid enough to betray me is likely to overlook a few things. Or think I’m stupid enough not to notice what’s happening,” she said, waving it off. “There is no other possibility. It’s just a matter of trying to figure out which one it was. As you keep reminding me,” she added.

  “Yes. And there was no possibility for there to be souls you knew nothing about. There was no possibility that my sisters still lived,” I pointed out, and she glared at me. It was a look that usually worked, because, to be honest, my Queen was an exceptionally intimidating being. It was not so much in her appearance, though there was a definite menace to her. It was in her power, which roared over whoever happened to be nearb
y, suffocating, dark and full of rage. Even those who do not know what she is could feel it. Mortals had a hard time being in her vicinity without becoming violent.

  I, however, have known her since before she uncovered all of that power. I still remembered the young woman who doubted every move she made, who hated the violence she caused. And I knew, at heart, that is still who Mollis was. Her power did not frighten me. I just looked back at her and raised my eyebrows.

  “Finished now?” I asked calmly. “Temper tantrums do not work on me, demon girl.”

  She snarled and turned away, pacing again.

  “You know what I am saying, and you know it makes sense. You do not believe in your heart that they would do this to you.”

  “Meg might,” Mollis said, still pacing. “My mother wouldn’t. God, I hope my mother wouldn’t,” she added, a pleading tone in her voice. “I have my imps watching her when she’s with my kids,” she said, and now her voice was full of pain. “Do you know what that feels like, to not be able to trust one of the very few people you’ve truly come to rely on?”

  “I do,” I said quietly. She met my eyes, gave a small nod. “Perhaps you should tell your mother about all of this,” I added.

  “And if Tisiphone chooses Megaera’s side over mine?” Mollis asked. Then she shook her head. “I hate this. I hate all of it.”

  “I know.” I glanced back at the soul of Larssen on the ground, lying still and trying not to draw Mollis’s attention. “This one’s time is up anyway. See what more you are able to do,” I said, and he started crying. Mollis met my gaze, and I nodded. “You might feel better,” I added.

  “We really need to find time to sit around and eat chocolate and watch Disney movies or something,” she said. “That would make me feel better.” She pulled the soul of Larssen back up. “So would getting laid, though.”

  “Well, I cannot help you with that one,” I said wryly.

  She huffed out a small laugh. “No, I guess not. Only demon love will do for that.”

  I scrunched up my face uncomfortably. “Is there a problem there?” I asked as she studied the soul.

  She sighed. “No. He’s trying to get me to actually sleep when we have a few minutes. He doesn’t get that time with him, time spent in that way, does more for me than sleep ever will. He feels guilty all the time.”

  “What does he feel guilty about?” I asked.

  “Everything,” she muttered. “Everything. All of this. If he’d never let me kill Astaroth all those years ago, none of this immortal bullshit ever would’ve happened. And when you think about it all that way, it’s pretty messed up, because he’s right.”

  “Would you go back to that if you were able to?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I am what I was meant to be. I am my Father’s daughter.” She transferred her gaze to the soul. “And I’m gonna live up to his legacy.” The next moment, she was breaking into his mind, and the screams started all over again.

  After what could have been minutes or hours, Mollis let out an excited shout, and I shot up from where I was perched on a low stone bench, one of the few bits of adornment remaining in the church.

  “What?” I asked.

  She held up a finger, focusing on the soul. “Bors Larssen, you were absolute garbage in life, and continued to be garbage in death. You have suffered at my hands. And now, we’ve reached the end.” She pulled the sword from the scabbard on her hip, and, the second her hand touched the pommel, black flames started to lick along the edges of the blade. The soul could do little more than whimper.

  Mollis removed his head with one clean, long swipe of the blade. We both watched it fall to the ground, and the body slumped beside it. Within moments, both head and body had dissolved into nothing more than dust.

  She shifted her gaze to me, a slight smile on her lips. “I still don’t know who, or how. But I know those memories aren’t erased the same way I would erase them.”

  I shook my head. “What does that even mean?”

  “When we erase a memory, when we take one, it’s gone. It’s as if it never happened. The person has no idea something was taken from them, because they have no idea there was supposed to be something there in the first place. Are you following me?”

  “A perfect erasure. As if it never existed at all,” I said, and she nodded, still smiling. “All right. And?”

  “And he knew something was taken from him. Even if he didn’t realize it, the flash of a thought was there, that I was looking for something that was taken. He didn’t know who took it, or when, or how or why. But he knew something was gone.”

  I watched her. “So not a Fury, then, maybe.”

  Her expression darkened a little. “It doesn’t make them free and clear, E. It was still someone who knew the Nether and how it and I work very, very well. It was someone who can manipulate someone mentally. There aren’t many who can claim those things.”

  “All right. But that does at least give us the possibility that it was not your mother or aunt. This is all good,” I said. “Though it does leave us with more questions than before.”

  She was studying me. “You don’t want it to be Tisiphone,” she said quietly.

  “I like your mother, demon girl. She has my respect, and I would hate to have to face that I am such a poor judge of character.” I paused. “I do not care either way about Megaera, though.”

  She laughed. “She has that endearing quality about her,” she said.

  I took in the pale complexion again, the tired eyes. “Mollis,” I said.

  “Hm?”

  “You should take one of these hunting trips with me sometime. It would be very efficient. Capture, judge, destroy, and done.”

  She gave me a small smile. “We both know I can’t do that, E. I’m needed where I am.”

  “A day or two, Mollis. You can get away. Hades sometimes disappeared for months at a time.”

  “That was Hades,” she said. “And he didn’t have the mess I have. Maybe after a few thousand years, I’ll feel comfortable enough to take a day off.” Her expression clouded. “I don’t want to do this shit today. Thinking about spending millennia, spending the rest of my existence this way…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I guess part of me does wish that none of this had ever happened,” she added quietly, referring to our earlier conversation about her husband. “And that’s selfish and whiny and you’re the only one I feel even remotely comfortable confessing that to.” She sat down beside me, and I took her hand in mine. She rested her head against mine, and we sat together in companionable silence for a few precious moments.

  “It is fine to feel overwhelmed and afraid. It is even fine to feel like you are failing. It is evidence of how much you care, that you have these feelings. You have always been harder on yourself than anyone else,” I told her. She was still, quiet, and I knew, because of all we have been through together, that I am one of the few she trusts to bring her back to herself. “If none of this had happened, you would never have known your father. Your mother. You would never have loved the shifter,” I said, and it struck me that this could be a really odd conversation, considering my current status with the shifter in question. “And you know that loving him helped you learn more about yourself. You grew during your time with him, and when you had the chance to be with your mate again, you were strong enough, confident enough, to ensure that you were an equal partner to him.” She squeezed my hand, and I continued. “You would never have found Zoe. You would never have given birth to young Hades. Your city, my friend, would have been over-run with demons and other nightmares, because even though you had no idea back then who you were, your father’s enemies knew of you. You would have had no way to protect anyone, had you not stumbled into your powers after the night you destroyed Astaroth.”

  “We wouldn’t have become friends,” she said quietly.

  “Probably not,” I answered. “And perhaps it is selfish of me, but I am happy to have you in my life, demon girl. I would tak
e the pain you suffer from you if I could, but I am glad you found your way to what you really are.”

  We were silent for a while. “I’m a mess, E,” she finally said.

  “You are fine,” I said. “You are comparing yourself to your father and falling short. Yes?”

  She nodded.

  “I think perhaps you should talk to Persephone. She lived with your father for thousands of years. They were…” I trailed off. “He loved your mother, but he loved Persephone as well,” I said, feeling awkward.

  “I know he did. He was drawn to my mom because of the whole ‘power wants power’ thing. He wanted my mom the way Brennan wanted me. It was more instinct than anything else,” she said. “But Persephone, he chose for himself, and she made him happy.” She paused. “I think they would have ended up together again. Maybe it would have taken a few thousand years, maybe not. My parents loved each other, but it was infatuation more than anything else. I think that gets old, in time.”

  “Thank you for saving me from feeling like an imbecile for saying that,” I said wryly, and she laughed. “Back to my point… your father did not have it all figured out. He was not always the stoic, hard man you knew. He had his moments of insecurity, though the rest of us rarely saw them. Persephone did, though. Perhaps she could shed some light on how he handled it all when things became impossible.”

  She sat up and looked at me. “That’s a really good idea, E.”

  “Of course it is. I had it,” I replied. She elbowed me, laughing.

  “She’s avoiding me, though. I have tried talking to her. She takes off the second she notices me coming toward her. And I don’t want to be an insensitive asshole. I know it must hurt her to even look at me, considering everything I represent.”

  “I suppose I am not surprised. It may be worth trying harder, however. And she may find some therapeutic value in being of help as well.”

  We sat for a while longer together, and then she finally rose with a sigh. “Time to get back to it. I’ve been gone too long already.” I stood, and she folded me in a strong hug. “Be careful, E,” she murmured.