by J. K. Coi
It had started with the visions. They’d tormented him relentlessly with scenes from another man’s life, overwhelmed his senses with the dying Immortal’s dark, seething emotions. He had felt the crushing weight of Graydon’s immortal soul in his own chest, and in the midst of his transition, Rhys had felt Graydon’s pain, known his sorrow and breathed his dying breath.
Within hours the physical changes had hit him. The pain had been like nothing he had ever felt before and his memories of that time were hazy at best.
When it was finally over, everything that he had been…changed. All his senses had been heightened—hearing, scent, sight…his sixth sense. His own body mass and strength had doubled and he would also discover in the years that followed that he was no longer aging.
Rhys had been taken by Trent for training. A twenty-nine-year-old soldier who had been only months away from earning his discharge and being able stay home with his wife and daughter, Rhys had been forced to leave his humanity behind and accept a life of eternity as a warrior. A warrior who existed for no other reason than to hold the front lines in a savage war against evil.
“Where do these demons come from?” Amy wanted to know.
“From Hell itself.”
Even before the change, Rhys had been aware of those called Immortal. Their existence had been the stuff of legends, more in the way of childhood fables than reality. Rhys was one of a few chosen men who found out first hand that even myths are based in truth.
Long before the Immortals had been recruited by the Guardian, God had charged an army of his angels with the task of watching over mankind. They had, aptly enough, been called watchers.
The watchers had been curious about humans—and jealous of them. They’d come down to earth lusting after the creamy flesh and vibrant, boisterous ways of the men and women whom they’d spent centuries observing, and it had been the women who had suffered the most from their attentions as they were first raped, then forced to birth monstrous demon offspring.
The fallen angels had eventually been rounded up and locked away in the Abyss, a prison designed to keep all manner of things from roaming unchecked over the earth. It was guarded over by one of their own, Abaddon the Destroyer.
There the watchers and other demons have waited for millennia, for the end times when the Abyss would be opened, letting the depraved beings loose to wreak havoc once again.
Of course, the imprisoned sought to escape, and once free the only place for them to go was to the mortal realm. There, loose among humans, they were virtually unstoppable.
At some point it had become obvious that there was a need for some way to recapture the fugitive demons. The Guardian had been chosen from among God’s closest archangels to create an army, a force powerful enough and capable enough to protect the human race and return the demons to the Abyss.
The Guardian had selected his army of men and given them a choice to either accept his offer of immortality or not. Once they had accepted, the chosen Immortals would be responsible for keeping the humans safe from all Hell’s demons. To even the playing field and give them more of a fighting chance, they had been endowed not only with immortality but with other gifts that included added strength, enhanced senses and psychic powers.
The first Immortals had been given their choice and every single one accepted the gift—and the responsibility inherent in it—resulting in a binding agreement between the Guardian and the Immortals that would encompass all future generations. Humans would be born with the latent potential for Immortality—a gene that would accommodate the transition if the time came that an Immortal died and another human was called to take his place.
Throughout history these Immortal men had served the Guardian, searching out the demons and sending them back to Hell where they belonged.
Amy frowned.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I just can’t believe this whole other world existed right on my doorstep and I never even glimpsed it before—”
“Before you met me?”
“Something I don’t regret.” She squeezed his hand. “I just find it amazing what can happen to a person in a few short days. How much a life can change with one event,” she finished gently.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt rose like acid in his throat. “If I had known that any of this was coming, I would have tried to stop it. Or at least prepared you for it, told—”
“No, Rhys. You’ve done so much for me—”
“Shit,” he muttered. This was bad. He might even throw up if she actually thanked him for ruining her life. “Don’t. Please.”
“Okay.” Her fingers played with the collar of his shirt. “I have some more questions though.”
“Sure. Whatever you want to know.” He tightened his arms around her and breathed deeply of the fresh scent of his shampoo in her hair. It was slowly drying and the ends curled up over the tops of her shoulders.
“Well first of all, where does the money come from?” She grinned.
Rhys was taken aback, “What do you mean? What money?”
“You know, the big warehouse building, hi-tech computer and security equipment…the guns. It all costs money. Right?”
“You think I’m a drug dealer?” he joked, reaching for a smooth tendril of hair and curling it around his finger.
“Well I know you’re definitely not associated with the military.”
“We don’t do anything illegal, Amy. I pay taxes just like any other responsible citizen. I have an accountant and a financial advisor and they take good care of my money for me. When you live as long as we do, you learn a few things about saving money. It’s really that simple.
“Also, Kane and Roland’s corporation occasionally handles military contracts that bring in a lot of money. Some of it goes into a slush fund for distribution to the Immortals in this area, mostly the newer ones who essentially start with nothing. There are a few other Immortals around the world who run legitimate companies too, so we always have a steady influx of cash. On the whole, though, most of us keep a low profile, and money just isn’t all that important.”
“Easy for you to say.” She smiled and cupped his cheek with her hand. He bent his head and kissed her palm.
“The demons that you fight. How many are out there?” Amy rested her head back on his shoulder with a weary-sounding sigh. He began to trace a finger lightly down the wide neck of her robe.
“There are different classes of demon. Watchers are the most common. They’re about as mature as a bunch of college frat boys. All they want to do is screw their brains out. The consequences though…you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that kind of attention.”
Amy’s fingers had started toying with the dark hair covering his arms. “Ouch.” He winced as she tugged playfully. “Stop that.”
“What about the others?” she asked, her fingers still plucking at his arm.
“There are the soul-suckers. They feed off of fear and hate, and they take pride in their work. Those demons will go out of their way to jack up their victim’s fear before they feed. They’re the ultimate demon overachiever. If they can corrupt a soul through trickery or bribery, they will. It makes the soul taste all the better to them, and the more sinful the soul the more power they get out of it. They are the ones who are sworn to Mastema, a kind of demon king who thankfully remains trapped in the demon realms. But his power grows with each of his minions’ offerings.”
“What kind of offerings?”
“Energy,” he replied. “His demons suck on human souls and then share their power with him so that someday he’ll be strong enough to break out of his prison.”
“This Abyss place that you mentioned?”
“No, this prison is one that was specially designed to keep Mastema in line. Other demons may come and go, but he cannot leave—yet. The idea is that if he should be able to get out, the end times would begin.”
“Oh God,” Amy was horrified. “You really have to deal with this every day? How do y
ou do it?”
Rhys shrugged. “Someone needs to do it, Amy. There’s no one else who would stand a chance against them.” He didn’t tell her that there had been plenty of days he didn’t want to do it, that he wished for an end to the fighting, the blood, the loneliness. But the Guardian chooses his soldiers well. Throughout history most of the Immortals had willingly taken up the cause, recognizing the need to balance evil with some good…although Rhys had started to doubt there was any good left in him.
“Why did you bring me here?” Amy asked.
“For your protection,” he answered quickly, his arms tightening around her shoulders.
“No. I mean, why are you taking care of me like this? You could have dumped Gideon and I somewhere and left us, but instead you stayed. Was it out of a sense of responsibility or guilt?”
Rhys took care with his answer. “It’s not guilt,” he told her firmly, knowing she needed to hear that.
She let out a deep breath and nodded.
“That first night—you know, when you almost got yourself killed thinking you could stop some poor guy from getting mugged—” He gave her a hard look. “Don’t say a word. You know how idiotic that was.”
“Let’s just move on, shall we?” Amy said sweetly, giving his arm a hard pinch.
“That first night wasn’t the first time I’d seen you,” he continued.
“That’s right,” Amy interjected. “I remember you said my name, and it surprised me enough that I didn’t take off at a run like I probably should have.”
Rhys let out a snort that was part agreement and part resignation. “Yeah. Well, you had been headlining my dreams for weeks already by that point.”
“Really? How? Why?”
He paused. “Sometimes I can see things in my dreams.”
“Can you tell the future?” Amy lifted her arm and tucked her hair behind her ear, giving Rhys a clear and unfettered view down the inside of her suddenly gaping robe. He let out an exaggerated, long-suffering groan, and she looked down, noticing where his eyes were focused. She chuckled and clicked her tongue, then moved to rearrange the robe around her body. He pushed her hands aside, liking the view just fine the way it was.
“No, I can’t tell the future,” he continued. “The visions I get are usually blurred, just bits and pieces of a whole picture that I don’t see, and it doesn’t always reflect the reality of what’s going to happen. They can be kind of cryptic that way.”
“Okay. So what did it mean when you saw me in your dream?” She’d started picking random balls of fuzz from her robe, and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Rhys sighed. “I don’t know what the hell it meant, other than that you were destined to inherit Doyle’s powers. I didn’t know that. At the time I didn’t understand.” He raked his fingers absently through his hair. “I already felt connected to you, though.
Amy didn’t say anything, just kept plucking at her robe.
Rhys took her chin in his hand and tilted her face to his. “Look, Amy, I don’t do the relationship thing, mainly because everyone I end up being responsible for dies.” His voice was low as he struggled with remembered pain. “You’d do well to remember that and run from me.”
“Is that what you want?” Her restless fingers stilled in her lap and he winced at the disappointment he saw reflected in her eyes.
“I’ve avoided ties with humans and Immortals alike for hundreds of years, and that’s the way I always wanted it.” He hesitated. “But now all of a sudden I’ve got Baron belting out rap music through every speaker in the place at the most ungodly times of the day. And he’s trying to sneak girls in here, as if this were his own personal bachelor pad and not a top-secret compound wired with security equipment and loaded with firepower.
“Kane and Roland keep hanging around with their constantly beeping phones and fax machines. I wish they‘d find somewhere else to park their cars. And then there’s the fact that they’re eyeing you like four year olds with their faces pressed up against the candy store window.” Rhys’ hand fisted in the soft cotton of Amy’s robe. He felt like killing something just thinking about the look on Kane’s face when he’d first got the idea of using Amy as his own personal fetus harvester.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, confused.
“Never mind. It was nothing,” he replied. “But now I also have to deal with your brother, who thinks I’m a lecherous old goat for slobbering all over his sister. Which is completely true, but I could still do without him snarling at me every time I look at you.”
“And what about me, Rhys? What kind of hassle am I to you?” Her voice was just a whisper but regret echoed plainly between them.
“Shit. Amy, I don’t mean it like that. I’m not complaining. The truth is, none of that really bothers me anymore. Well…except for Baron. You are the reason why I haven’t kicked all these people out of here. I feel like I’m waking from a long sleep. I can feel myself opening up, letting the world in once again, and it’s a better world than I remember…because of you.”
“Rhys—”
“No. Let me finish or I’ll never tell you this.” He kissed her hard on the mouth, wanting to express to her how he felt but knowing he was doing a poor job so far. “I crave your smile and your touch. I need your energy and your passion. I like feeling that I can be a part of the living again and not just a shadow that walks in death.
“It scares the hell out of me, though, because the last time I felt something remotely like this for anyone, they died.”
Chapter Thirteen
He needed to find something to kill.
Like a pathetic romantic fool, Rhys had poured his heart out to Amy this morning, but had been too much of a coward to face her afterward. He hadn’t even waited for her to react to his demented ramblings but walked out on her like a loser because he’d been afraid of hearing she didn’t feel the same way.
‘Cause really, who was he kidding anyway?
Just because they were a fucking inspiration in bed together didn’t mean she would want anything long term—especially considering the fact that “long term” for both of them was now an expression of unlimited classification.
He knew she was very cautious when it came to relationships. She’d explained about the death of her parents and her aunt. Only an idiot would fail to recognize the consequences of such tragedy when that grieving young girl had grown up to be a guarded, wary woman.
So when had Rhys ever given her a reason to trust him with anything?
They’d met over the body of a demonic hell-monster that he had killed right in front of her. He’d then kidnapped her, threatened her, dragged her back to an abandoned warehouse and proceeded to shove his tongue down her throat within hours of that first meeting. As an added bonus, after dumping her back at home he’d followed her around for weeks like some crackpot psycho, railroaded her into bed with him and bluntly told her not to count on him to be around.
To top it all off, he’d then been the one to break it to her that she was going through a life-changing event that would destroy any chance she’d ever again have for a normal relationship.
Yeah, he was a real winner.
No surprises there.
He couldn’t have screwed up any worse. Which was why he was now dragging Baron out to the docks at midnight, in the pouring rain, hoping to find some demon sludge to pound on. The nightclubs in this area were mostly patio bars set up along the water’s edge, but with the drumming rain tonight, they had all closed down early. Rhys was going to suggest they head somewhere more populated.
“Rhys, man,” Baron complained, “what crawled up your ass and died today? I spent all night out here yesterday. I was kind of planning some downtime for tonight.”
“You’ll get over it.” He was on the alert, scanning the darkness. “Nobody gets downtime right now—and it wouldn’t kill you to go one day without getting laid.”
“Oh yeah, easy for you to say with Amy back home—”
Rhys grabbed
him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him hard against the side of the car. “Oh no. You do not want to finish that sentence, brother, trust me,” he growled, his temper high.
“Whoa. No kidding, Rhys. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear.”
Rhys sighed. He really was going off the deep end. How had he managed so many years without letting his emotions get the better of him, only to completely lose it when he needed that control the most?
There had to be a way to rein himself back in, and he was really hoping it would involve some serious ass-whupping.
Rhys uncurled his fingers from Baron’s collar with a mumbled apology and got into the car. This was usually the time of night when tired, drunk and reckless humans were unwittingly herded to their deaths by jonesing demons in bad disguises who knew they wouldn’t even have to work for their fix.
Rhys stopped the car and got out. “Baron, take the car back to the warehouse.” He looked left and right, trusting his instincts to find what he was looking for.
“Without you? Why? Where are you going?” Baron called after him.
“I’m going to check on a few things…alone,” Rhys answered impatiently. “Just go.” Rhys turned with quick, sure steps, heading in the opposite direction of the noise and lights of the clubs. In moments he was being followed. His senses had immediately picked up on the tail.
When he heard the slight sound of a footstep behind him, he almost laughed with relief.
All right, then. Let’s do this.
He veered away from a small group of pedestrians, deliberately heading down a dark street that ended in a tall barbed wire gate. Whatever was after him wouldn’t be able to resist an ambush and would assume that Rhys had no way to escape.
Little did they know that Rhys was primed and ready and had chosen this spot for exactly the same reason…to make damn sure there was nowhere for the bastard to go once Rhys lit into it.
He was grateful that he didn’t have long to wait. Within a few moments, a man-sized shadow blocked the darkened passage. They were about a dozen feet apart. Rhys pulled back his trench, hand resting over his weapon like a gunslinger of old.