The Darkest Promise--A Dark, Demonic Paranormal Romance

by Gena Showalter

  “I learned my lesson well, Lazarus. Letting you live was a mistake. Tell me where you’re keeping my box, or I will destroy your family, beginning with your young.”

  “I have no young.” He cupped his groin. “But you’re welcome to drink them straight from the tap.”

  Ashen, she performed a half pivot, always keeping him within her sights. “I saved you from becoming a copy of your father. As a child, I spared your life. You owe me.”

  “You enslaved me and relegated the care of my soul to a Harpy. I owe you nothing but a painful death.”

  “Brave words. Foolish words. Do not force me to dismember your precious Cameo the way I dismembered Echidna.”

  Had her voice wobbled there at the end? “Force you?” The hatred he’d harbored for so long exploded inside him, emotional shrapnel embedding itself in every inch of his body. The wounds bled more rage, only rage.

  “I’ve never enjoyed harming my fellow females.”

  “Touch Cameo, and I’ll—” There was no threat great enough.

  “What? Freeze up like your father, unable to move, trapped inside some sort of chrysalis?” She laughed. “I checked on him not too long ago. A tragic fate for a once-strong male.”

  A fate Lazarus would share.

  He’d already resigned himself to it—or thought he had. If he stayed with Cameo, he would continue to weaken. Perhaps now was the time to attack. Perhaps he would never have more power than he had now.

  Decision made.

  Without forecasting his intent, Lazarus threw himself at Hera. His shoulder plowed into the softest part of her belly, and he roared with satisfaction at her sound of distress. As he followed her to the floor, she took the brunt of impact, the back of her skull shattering.

  Despite the injury, she banged her forehead into his chin. Adrenaline jacked, he barely registered the hit. Never missing a beat, he drew back his elbow and jabbed his arm forward. The blow met nothing but air as she flashed away.

  Hoping she would return, he jumped to his feet. He paced the room for five minutes...ten...but she never appeared.

  New plan. Weakened or not, he would return to Cameo’s side. Today. Now. They would hunt and kill Hera and Juliette together. They would find and slay his father. He trusted Cameo and admired her skill.

  He didn’t need an army. He just needed her.

  * * *

  “Get your asses in gear. Our one millionth family meeting is about to kick off.” Torin’s voice echoed over the sound system he’d installed inside the fortress.

  Great! Wonderful! Cameo knew what would be discussed. Or rather, who they would be discussing.

  When she’d told her friends Juliette maybe, just possibly might know where to find Pandora’s box, excitement and hope had bloomed. The Harpy had become the Lords’ enemy one.

  Had Lazarus forgiven Cameo for saving his tormentor’s life?

  Hell, no. Otherwise he’d be here.

  Lost him before I had him.

  Everyone filed into the great room. Cameo claimed a spot up front, her arms crossed over her chest as she met the gaze of every occupant: Torin, Keeley, Maddox, Ashlyn, Sienna, Sabin, Gwen, Gideon, Scarlet, Amun, Haidee, Danika, Kaia, Aeron and Olivia, a Sent One.

  Lucien, Anya, Reyes, Kane, Josephina, Strider, Baden and Katarina were currently in the underworld with Hades.

  Galen, former enemy turned almost-friend, strode into the room and plopped on the couch. A storm brewed inside his sky blue eyes. His pale hair was spiked in complete disarray. He’d just returned from a secret mission for...Hades? Himself? He must have failed.

  Redheaded Kaia nudged Cameo’s shoulder, all I’ve got this. “Pipe down and listen up. The entire Eagleshield clan has declared war on our girl Cam. They expect all Skyhawks to do the same because we’ve always held a grudge against Cam’s man-candy-liciousness Lazarus.”

  How dare the Eagleshields try to recruit her friends!

  You have no friends, Misery whispered.

  I do! I know I do.

  A chorus of “boo” rang out from the crowd.

  See? she told the demon. Friends.

  “We declined, of course. With blades.” Cheers erupted, and Kaia took a bow. When the room quieted, she added, “Ages ago, Lazarus destroyed one of our villages, but today, we officially forgive him. For Cameo’s sake and also because we’d like an opportunity to torture him slowly. In the most nonviolent ways.” Her gaze darted to Cameo. “Death is too fast and definitely too permanent.”

  “Word is Lazarus actually came back from the dead,” Gwen said. “How is that possible?”

  All eyes landed on Cameo. “I don’t know.” His physical appearance had changed, the lines etched through his arms thicker and darker, his hatred of them worse. “Neither does he.”

  Her friends cringed at the sound of her voice. Worse, they cringed with more force than usual.

  Told you, Misery taunted.

  She pressed her lips together. She’d had no plans to tell anyone about Lazarus’s lines, anyway. His secret was his to share.

  “I’ll ask around,” Sienna said. “Someone knows something.” As the new keeper of Wrath, dishing punishments had become her favorite jam. She cracked her knuckles. “That someone will sing like a canary.”

  “Inquiring minds want to know.” Kaia hopped up and down. “Does every inch of the new, living Lazarus work?”

  Like, did his heart beat? She nodded.

  Kaia offered a sly grin. “How many inches are we talking about? Huh, huh. Tell me!”

  Try: gigantor. And mine. All mine.

  Cameo silently mouthed, “Focus, people!”

  “So less than six? Seven?” she insisted. “Juliette bragged about keeping his balls in her trophy case. Apparently she cut one off every now and then to remind Laz who was boss. Got a new one during the last battle. I just wondered if he’s experienced shrinkage.”

  He’d been injured? She’d assumed the blood he’d worn had belonged to his victims.

  How could I leave him behind?

  Before Misery could use her guilt against her, she turned to Aeron. “After you died, the One True Deity gave you a new body. He’s the only being capable of such a feat, yes?” He’d created Sent Ones, angels and even humans from dirt.

  As for the other species?

  Stories claimed fallen angels had once mated with humans to create demigods—the Titans, Greeks and Unspoken Ones. Though they’d chosen to drop the word “demi.” Those demigods had mated with other demigods, and different immortal races were born. Shifters, Berserkers, sirens, nymphs and a handful of others. Still other demigods had mated with demons, creating Harpies, vampires and witches. However, none of those beings knew how to create flesh from dirt—or anything else.

  “To my knowledge, yes.” Aeron’s voice was as gruff as ever. “I don’t know how He did it. I woke up in the heavens, already bonded to my new body.”

  So we’re still at square one. Awesome.

  Sorrow wafted from Misery, a poisoned perfume. Sienna sniffled. Kaia and Gwen turned away to stealthily wipe their tears.

  Here I go, making everyone around me miserable again.

  “I’m out.” Head down, Cameo strode into the hall.

  “We need to discuss the box,” Sabin called after her.

  She paused long enough to answer. “Don’t worry. Juliette Eagleshield will tell me everything she knows before I remove her head.” No more playing nice and stopping with a hand removal.

  Cameo descended the stairs. Along the way, she passed a butterfly in flight and ignored the prickling unease. She shut herself inside her bedroom and eased onto the cushioned seat in front of her vanity...where Lazarus’s mirror now hung.

  At first, she’d had no idea the mirror was in her room. She’d seen a blow-up
doll. Then she’d touched it and the illusion faded, the glass appearing before her eyes. A gift from Lazarus. She was awed by his thoughtfulness...and terrified of what she would next see.

  History had proved only heartache awaited her.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks as little sorrows began to nibble at her soul like starving mice who’d finally found a hunk of cheese. Sadness and regrets scurried across her mind, little cockroaches that dwelled in the shadows.

  Despite their explosive goodbye, she missed Lazarus more with every second that passed. Missed his touch. His taste. His bark of a laugh, a bit rusty at the edges. Not many people could make him laugh; she was one of a rare few. She even missed his irritating comments.

  With him, she felt alive for the first time since her possession, so close to happiness she could almost bark out a laugh of her own.

  Lazarus has abandoned you, wants nothing to do with you. Misery purred like a well-fed kitten. Perhaps you would feel better if you forgot him.

  Never!

  Maybe...

  Lazarus believed the demon needed permission to wipe her memory. At first, she’d discarded the idea as ludicrous. Not knowing the things she’d done and said was torture. Now, however, she was possessed by an even a worse torture. Knowing the wanton things she’d done and said, the wanton things Lazarus had done and said—and knowing she would never experience them again.

  No, no. The loss of memory would be worse, guaranteed, and she couldn’t let sorrow convince her she’d finally know peace.

  No “peace” could compare with the memory of their first kiss. The little details as much as the big. The sardonic gleam in his dark eyes when he teased her. The huskiness of his voice when she pleased him. The way beads of sweat trickled down the ripples of his muscles.

  Cameo stared into the mirror, desperate. “Show me the future,” she whispered. “Please.”

  To her surprise, the glass liquefied, waves rippling from top to bottom. Eventually those waves split and two images appeared, one on the right, one on the left. In the first, Lazarus stabbed Hera with a miniature version of the Paring Rod. The shaft had been cut in two, the bulbous tip pushed to the center to make room for a retractable dagger. In the vision, Cameo watched the murder with an air of relief. He’d done it. Gotten vengeance and survived.

  The scene morphed, revealing the consequences of his victory. Cameo’s motionless body burned atop a pyre. Her friends surrounded her, their heads bowed with sorrow and grief—funny, the terrible emotions were still courtesy of her.

  “If Lazarus kills Hera, I die?” she asked the glass.

  Trembling, she focused on the other half of the mirror and blinked in shock as she watched her image act out the second scene. In it, she stepped in front of Hera, saving the former queen’s life—and causing the end of her own.

  No hope. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don’t. Unless she could somehow changed her future.

  Why would Cameo protect the goddess who’d killed Lazarus’s mother?

  The scene changed, revealing the consequences of her choice. This time, Cameo lay in bed, laughing as a kaleidoscope of butterflies danced overhead.

  Whoa. She survived? And laughed? At butterflies?

  Maybe she shouldn’t try to change her future, after all. Following the mirror’s lead the first time around had worked out very well for her.

  But...butterflies?

  If one leaves her chrysalis too easily, her wings are weakened. She must struggle to exit, or she will never have the strength to fly.

  She remembered Lazarus’s words, and twisted to peer at a flurry of butterflies perched outside her window. What if the insects weren’t a symbol of doom but instead—she swallowed hard—a portent of success? What if they signaled Lazarus’s approach? He’d said they gravitated to him.

  Her heart leaped. Had he forgiven her for Juliette’s temporary stay of execution?

  Maybe so, but... She rested her elbows on the vanity and leaned her forehead against the heels of her palms. He would forever despise her for saving Hera. Therefore, saving the goddess could not possibly lead to Cameo’s happiness.

  But come on! What if she lost Lazarus either way? The first vision showed his death, and in the second vision, he hadn’t been anywhere near her bed.

  And yet I laughed. Why?

  Had he been nearby?

  So many unanswered questions.

  A knock sounded at her door. The glass cleared, revealing her reflection and the disarray of her bedroom. Good, that was good.

  She stood on shaky legs and croaked, “Enter.”

  Viola swept inside, her pet nipping playfully at her heels. Today Viola wore a grungy T-shirt that read I’m Dating a Supermodel. Me! The collar was ripped and the hem frayed. Her short shorts were streaked with grass stains. Mud caked her cowgirl boots.

  Fluffy wore a matching outfit.

  The pair had returned to the fortress yesterday. The goddess had refused to talk about what had gone down at the club, and Cameo hadn’t pushed for answers.

  “Since I’m your best friend,” Viola said, “I’ve been elected to tell you the bad news.”

  Oh, no. “What happened? Did someone die? Who died?”

  Misery snickered.

  “Wow,” Viola said. “Your mind immediately goes all worst-case scenario, doesn’t it?”

  She forced herself to inhale and exhale with purpose. “What happened?” she repeated as calmly as possible.

  “Gwen and Kaia just got a bead on Juliette.” Viola’s gaze landed on the mirror and widened, her mouth parting on a dreamy sigh. As if in a trance, she walked forward, her arms extending to touch. “Oh! A pretty!”

  Cameo grabbed a blanket and rushed toward the mirror, intent on intervening before Viola lost herself to her reflection. Mission accomplished.

  “How is finding Juliette bad news for me?” Cameo asked, wiping her hands together in a job well done.

  “Who said anything about it being bad news for you? It’s totally bad news for her. Did I forget to mention the silly Harpy has issued you a challenge? She wants to nix pitting family against family and fight you one-on-one. Winner gets to keep Lazarus.”

  Cameo’s hands balled into fists. “One-on-one? Done. But Lazarus is no one’s pawn. He will choose the woman he’s with.”

  It won’t be her, and it won’t be you, the demon piped up. That plane has already left the runway.

  “She doesn’t care about free will, so you need to prepare. Come.” Viola walked away, clearly expecting Cameo to follow.

  Feet as heavy as boulders, she trudged after her friend. They entered the artifact room, where the Paring Rod, Cage of Compulsion, Cloak of Invisibility and paintings created by the All-seeing Eye were stored.

  Power thickened the air. And dust. Lots and lots of dust. Cameo coughed.

  Her gaze fixed on the Paring Rod. It had a long, metal shaft and a bulbous stained-glass tip. One touch, and she would end up in another realm.

  “Why are we here?” she asked. “I don’t want to leave the mortal world.”

  “Duh.” Viola pulled a piece of cloth from her pocket and carefully sheathed the bulb. “As you know, I made it my business to learn more about the Paring Rod while trapped inside the spirit realm—”

  “You weren’t trapped. You willingly entered the second time. And you had the ring!” Cameo reminded her.

  “Anyway. The Paring Rod. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.” As Viola spoke, she bent and twisted the Rod...in natural grooves Cameo had never noticed, shortening the staff, causing a sharper edge to emerge from the tip.

  Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. The Paring Rod had shrunk into a miniature version of itself, becoming the sword she’d seen in the mirror. Which meant the artifact had just become the weapon Lazarus would use to kill
Hera...or Cameo.

  Sooo. The mirror had shown two possible futures, and now Cameo had to choose which one she desired to fruition.

  No need to ponder. The second. Of course she picked the second. She’d laughed!

  But what about Lazarus? Would her happiness ruin his?

  21

  “Your kingdom will never experience peace while your enemies still live woman is upset.”

  —The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy

  Lazarus strode into the Budapest fortress as if he owned it. In his mind, he did. He’d decided to go all in with Cameo, so she had to go all in with him. No other outcome was acceptable. What belonged to him now belonged to her and vice versa. Therefore, he owned the fortress.

  He paused in the foyer. Maybe close proximity to Cameo strengthened him in some ways while weakening him in others, because his testicle finally finished regenerating. An agonizing process he betrayed by neither word nor deed.

  “Welcome.” A disembodied voice spilled over an intercom system. A voice he knew belonged to Torin, puppet of Disease, who had once dated Cameo. The male would live only because he’d never actually touched her.

  With the cameras placed around the perimeter, Torin had known of his arrival the second he’d flashed in front of the door. Lazarus had opened his mind to the occupants before entering and had sensed no desire to attack.

  Maybe because Torin had announced, “We have a guest. Don’t kill him.”

  Lazarus flipped off one of the cameras as he kicked into motion. Urgency rode him, whipping his flank; he increased his speed as he pounded up a flight of stairs.

  On the second floor, he spotted a woman he’d met long ago. He’d been a young boy and she’d been engaged to Hades. Keeley, the Red Queen. Typhon had dragged Lazarus to the underworld to pay his respects.

  Back then she’d had red hair and brown eyes. Today her long locks were pink, her eyes as green as grass. Tomorrow? Who knew what color they’d be. Her features were tied to the calendar and changed with every season.

  He watched as the woman wove in and out of bedrooms, stuffing different items into a bag. “She’s going to need this—” a vase “—and this—” she pulled a nail from the wall “and definitely this!” A pair of swimming goggles.