With a sigh, Knox scraped his hand over his jaw. “No. Although I suppose we should consider that it wasn’t necessarily a ‘she’. They took on Harper’s form in order to get close to Asher, but that doesn’t make them female. They could just as easily be male.”
Levi swore. “Never thought of that. So we can’t even be sure what gender they are, let alone what breed of demon they could be?”
“No, we can’t,” confirmed Knox. “But we know one thing for sure.”
“What?”
“They may not bleed—or, at least, they may not leave behind any blood—but they can feel pain.” Knox’s tone deepened. Darkened. “That brings me a lot of comfort, because I intend to put them through a world of endless, unendurable, soul-destroying torment. I’ll revel in every cry and scream and plea for mercy. Lap up their fear and terror and hopelessness.”
“And when it’s over?”
“It’ll never be over.” Even before she’d gotten pregnant, Knox and Harper both vowed that if anyone dared to come after their child, they would subject that fucker to an unimaginable suffering and relay a strong message that targeting their child would be a grave mistake.
Levi’s grin was somewhat bloodthirsty. “It’s been a while since we really partied like that. I’m looking forward to it. I’ll bring the popcorn. And the chainsaw. The rusty one with the duller blade. The fucker won’t be needing their limbs for what we have in mind.”
Knox returned his grin. “Just don’t forget the hot iron so we can cauterize the stumps. You always forget the hot iron.”
“I know. Who forgets to bring a hot iron to a party, for God’s sake?”
CHAPTER FOUR
A few days later, Knox looked up from the computer monitors within his home office when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” he called out. As Levi strode inside wearing a sober expression, Knox’s muscles went rigid. “What is it?”
The sentinel let out a long breath. “There’s something you need to see.” He held up his iPhone. “This footage was aired on YouTube last night, but it took a while for anyone to really notice it.”
Knox took the cell phone and tapped “play” with his thumb. The camera provided a close-up view of a woman bound to a chair with thick rope, her lips and chin trembling. The only light in the dark room seemed to be the one above her head, and that light illuminated the sheer terror in her familiar eyes. Fuck.
“Smile for the camera, Alethea,” a voice in the background said. Oddly, that voice belonged to Alethea herself.
Another figure appeared then and moved to stand behind her. It was impossible to be sure of their height, since only a slight portion of their body was visible.
“As you can tell,” the voice went on, “I’ve stolen Alethea’s voice for a little while. Can’t have her shouting anything incriminating, can I?”
Alethea mouthed something, but no words came out.
“I think most of you will know who I am,” the person behind her continued. “Well, maybe not who I am exactly. But you’ll know what I am. You’ll know you’re looking at the fourth Horseman.”
Knox swore through gritted teeth, but he didn’t move his eyes from the screen.
After a pause for what was clearly dramatic effect, the voice went on, “Yes, to all those who doubted my group’s existence, we are real. Although my compatriots—Isla, Nora, and Roan—are dead, the goal remains the same. The US Primes have to fall. But, really, must there be deaths? I don’t see why. If each of the US Primes step down, this will end here. If not, many will die. And you, Mr. Thorne, will be the first to do so. It’s nothing personal. You’re simply in my way, much like Alethea is in my way.”
She snapped something at the Horseman, but her words were once again silent.
He rested his hand on her head. “Now you get to see what I do to those who stand in my way.” Hellfire streamed out of his palm and engulfed her body in a rush. Her screams would have no doubt overridden the sounds of fire hissing and popping if the Horseman hadn’t stolen her voice. Her skin blistered and melted as the hellfire ate at it. Finally, her charred, blackened, steaming corpse slumped in her seat. Then the video came to an end.
Knox rubbed a hand down his face. “Jesus.”
Grim, Levi nodded. “I never liked her, but death-by-hellfire … I wouldn’t have wished that on her.”
If he were normal, Knox probably would have felt some element of grief over her death. He’d known her for centuries, and they’d shared a bed many times. But she’d also done her best to hurt Harper ever since Knox claimed the little sphinx as his mate. As such, he’d come to feel little for the she-demon other than utter contempt.
Like the other women from his past, Alethea had been elegant, cultured, sophisticated, and well-groomed. Since she’d viewed Harper as somewhat beneath her, Alethea had taken his claim on Harper as, in Levi’s words, a “personal insult”. But that wasn’t the only reason Alethea had been an absolute bitch to her. She—like many others—was intimidated by Harper. Moreover, Alethea had been unable to work out what made his mate “tick”. Unable to pierce Harper’s aloof “you’re not worth my time” air or hit her where it truly hurt, no matter what Alethea did or how far she went.
Harper was indeed a hard nut to crack. She was difficult to predict. Hard to offend. Impossible to manipulate. Rare for their kind, she also had no aspirations for power whatsoever. Nor was she driven by greed, addictions, or a craving for adrenalin rushes. Unlike other Primes, she didn’t demand respect or submission. Didn’t flaunt her status or act like she was above others. Alethea had just never been able to understand her.
She’d no doubt also been jealous that Harper was incredibly powerful—so powerful, in fact, that she’d fought off a death hex. Demons respected strength and, as such, the other Primes had grudgingly come to not only respect her but accept her as Knox’s mate. Alethea, however, had never treated Harper with anything less than hostility. For that reason, he couldn’t find it in him to feel any grief over her death. But, since he didn’t have a lot of good in him, that wasn’t at all shocking.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Knox handed the iPhone back to his sentinel. “I’m surprised the clip even made it onto the website.”
“Some viewers have commented on it, slating the ‘special effects’ and calling Alethea a bad actor. I doubt the people at YouTube thought it was real. Why would they?”
Knox inclined his head, conceding Levi’s point. “I’ll need to call Jonas. I’m sure he’s seen the clip by now and isn’t in the mood for conversation, but I need to speak with him. The Horseman said he wanted me to die first. And although he also said he’d only kill me if the Primes didn’t agree to step down, I don’t think it means he’s not behind what happened to Asher.”
“Neither do I. It doesn’t make sense that he’d give you advanced warning that he meant to attack—he’d need whatever advantage he could get. I think he sent someone after Asher. I think he waited a while, hoping you’d lower your guard, and then struck out of nowhere. Probably believed that an abrupt attack would be effective.”
“But it wasn’t. All it did was alert us to his plans, so he had nothing to lose by making this video and spouting dire warnings.”
“You should make a public statement,” Levi recommended. “Disclose that someone was sent for Asher. It will enrage a whole lot of people, especially our lair and even some of the Primes. We need demonkind to be angry, not afraid.”
“Once I’ve spoken with Jonas and I have the facts about his sister, I’ll make a statement.” Knox twisted his mouth as he considered the footage. “The Horseman said she was in his way. It seems likely that he knew her personally.”
Levi nodded. “She was sleeping with Thatcher, but it didn’t last long. Alethea’s relationships never did.”
True enough. “I need to tell Harper about this before someone else does.” Baby, you got a minute?
Her psychic taste of honey, coffee, and truffles poured into his mind, filling every
empty space. Sure, she responded. I’m just making a snack while Asher has his afternoon nap.
Knox pyroported to their kitchen to find her standing at the counter, spreading soft cheese on a bagel. “Where’s Meg?” he asked. The housekeeper often prepared their meals before they got the chance.
“Visiting her sister.” Harper frowned at whatever she saw on his face. “What happened? Please tell me you found out who tried to take Asher.”
“I wish I could.” Knox took her hands and drew her to him. “There’s no tactful way to say this. Alethea’s dead.”
For a long moment, Harper said nothing. “Dead?”
“Dead. Her murder was posted on YouTube.” He told her about the footage and that the killer claimed to be the remaining Horseman. “I advise you not to watch the clip—it’s ugly. You don’t want that in your head.”
Harper shoved a hand through her hair, shocked. She couldn’t pretend to feel any upset over the she-demon’s death. In truth, she hadn’t felt even the most basic respect for Alethea, hence why she’d found great joy in toying with the woman, calling her “dolphin” due to her kind’s random ability to shift into such a mammal. Still, Harper experienced no sense of satisfaction over her death. “That’s a hell of a way to go. I wouldn’t have wished it on her. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Except maybe for the person who tried to take Asher. Them I would wish never-ending torture on.”
The culprit would suffer a fuck of a lot worse than what Alethea did—Knox would make sure of it. Many might have been surprised by Harper’s merciful response to Alethea’s death, but that was because they didn’t see the marshmallow center that lay beneath her hard exterior. Knox loved that she had such compassion and mercy in her. Some might view those qualities as weaknesses. But the fact that she was as kindhearted as she was bloodthirsty made her strong, in his opinion. She had many facets, and that gave her an edge.
“I intend to speak with Jonas and find out who Alethea was associating with before she disappeared,” said Knox. “It might be insensitive not to give him space and time to grieve first, but the Horseman is making their move—we don’t have time.”
“Jonas will want the fucker caught. If you make it clear that you intend to make that happen, he’ll be more cooperative. Damn, I feel bad for him. I don’t trust him—not knowing he wanted to make a deal with Lou in the hope of getting his hands on an archdemon—but it must be hard to lose a sibling.” Harper winced, because she remembered that she herself had lost a sibling. She’d also been the one to kill him.
“You’re thinking of Roan. Stop.” Knox rested his hands on her shoulders. “As you’ve said before, it was him or you. You chose you. He was never a brother to you. Never. And let’s not forget that he was working with whoever killed Alethea. Her murderer even named Roan as one of the Horsemen on the video.”
“Carla won’t take that well,” Harper said. Her estranged mother was not only adamant that Roan would never have been involved in a conspiracy to see the US Primes fall, she didn’t believe that the Four Horsemen were even real. Now, she’d have to face the truth. More, she’d have to face that she’d been wrong. Harper was pretty sure that Carla would hate both those things.
As Carla, her mate, Bray, and their youngest son had switched to a lair in Washington, she and Harper hadn’t spoken since before Asher was born. Maybe that should have saddened Harper. It didn’t. Who wanted an attention junkie in their life who’d not only once tried to abort them, but had sold them to their paternal family when trapping their soul in a container hadn’t worked? Harper certainly didn’t.
As an adult, Harper had discovered little things that had suggested a very small part of Carla wished things had been different between them, but the woman really was too twisted to have a healthy mother-child relationship with any of her kids. It was textbook of narcissists, really, so Harper didn’t take it personally.
Initially, it had seemed that Carla had eventually come to terms with Harper being her co-Prime, but Harper had recently discovered that she’d been looking to switch lairs even before Roan’s death. A never-ending victim who thrived on drama, Carla had milked whatever sympathy and attention she could get for his death. She’d also hoped it would turn the lair against Harper. It hadn’t. Carla’s rage had intensified when Harper’s pregnancy earned her the limelight that Carla perpetually craved. So, yeah, there was no hope for them.
“No, she won’t like it,” agreed Knox. “But as she’s in Washington, you won’t have to hear about it.”
“Unless she ventures to the Underground,” Harper pointed out. The demonic playground could be best described as a hyped-up version of the Las Vegas strip, and it attracted demons worldwide.
“The doormen of the club above the entrance to the Underground are under strict orders from me not to allow her, Bray, or Kellen inside. I know you were hoping to have some sort of relationship with Kellen, baby, but I won’t allow him to mess with your head anymore.”
“Neither will I,” said Harper. The teenager had reached out to her initially, but he dropped her like a bad habit each time there was conflict between her and his family. He’d sent her a congratulatory text when Asher was born, but she hadn’t heard from him since. Considering she was responsible for his older brother’s death, she didn’t see how they could have a relationship at all anyway. It would just have to be enough that she’d gotten to know him a little.
“Back to the subject of what happened to Alethea,” said Harper. “I know that, as your co-Prime, I should go with you to see Jonas. But there was so much animosity between me and Alethea that I’m the very last person he will want to see right now.”
“You’re right. And I don’t trust that he won’t take out his grief on you, so it would be best all round if you stayed here.” Which suited Knox’s overprotective streak just fine.
“Are you going to tell him what almost happened to Asher?”
“Yes.” Knox slid his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, and then cupped her hips. “I’ll be making a public statement about it, but I need some information from Jonas first.”
“Do you really think the Horseman made that clip just so that he could tell the Primes they must step down?”
“No. He wants people to be scared. To fear him. That would give him power. Alethea was the sister of a Prime. Other Primes will soon wonder if one of their own relatives will be targeted. Her killer said that I’d be next, but that won’t make anyone feel at all reassured. They’ll be worried, off-balance, and won’t know what to think.”
“Which he’ll love.”
“Yes, I think he will.” Knox traced her hipbones with his thumbs. “The Primes will likely want a meeting to discuss the issue. I doubt any of them will be prepared to step down, no matter how worried they are, but they’ll want to address the matter.”
“We should call the meeting ourselves. If it’s in Vegas, we won’t have to travel.” She didn’t want to leave Asher behind, but she’d be unwilling to take him along.
“I’ll have Levi arrange it.” Knox dabbed a light, lingering kiss on her mouth. “We’ll talk more later. Enjoy your bagel.”
Returning to his office, Knox gave Levi orders to arrange a meeting for the Primes and then pulled up the YouTube footage on his computer. His monitor was large, so Knox had a much better view than he’d had on Levi’s cell.
He watched the recording again, this time with a critical eye. Watched the way the Horseman moved, observed their body language, and noted their clothing. He also examined the background, looking for clues as to their location.
They didn’t move like a woman, he thought. There was a male swagger there, a masculine confidence in each step. Although it was difficult to be sure of their build, they didn’t appear to have any feminine curves. Their clothes were dark and plain, from what he could tell.
As he reached the part where the Horseman placed their hand on Alethea’s head, Knox paused the footage and zoomed in on the hand. Thick, masculine fingers. No long nails
. In fact, they were cut to the quick. Their skin was white, but not pale. Caucasian male, Knox decided.
No matter how close Knox zoomed into the footage, he couldn’t discern any objects in the background. If he had to guess, he’d say the wall paint was dark, as no color at all lightened the shadows. It appeared to be an empty, drab room. A basement, perhaps.
After spending a good half hour studying the Horseman and the background, Knox replayed the footage again. This time, he concentrated on Alethea. At that moment, she didn’t look at all like an encantada—a female sex demon. Oh, her preternatural allure was still there, but it was tainted by the sheer terror in her watery eyes. Not just terror … betrayal. She had known the Horseman. Known them well enough that she felt betrayed by their actions.
Her hair wasn’t disheveled and, aside from her smudged mascara, her make-up was perfectly in place. As such, Knox doubted she’d been held prisoner. He couldn’t be sure what length of time she’d been with the Horseman, but Knox didn’t believe she’d been there against her will—at least not initially.
Watching it a second time, Knox concentrated on the part where she’d first mouthed something. Despite that he had a close-up view of her face, lipreading wasn’t easy.
“Watching the clip again?”
Knox looked up as Harper walked in. “Baby, you don’t want to see this, trust me on that. You certainly don’t want to look at it when you not long ago ate.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Remind me when I’ve ever been delicate.” She rounded his sleek black, U-shaped executive desk and peered at one of the multiple computer screens. She was so used to seeing Alethea smug and bitchy that it was a distinct shock to see the encantada looking so afraid. Harper knew how it felt to be held captive; to know that your life was in the hands of another. And death by hellfire—that would have been agonizing.
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