Absolute Surrender

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  He nodded, even though he didn't look happy with the change in plans. He’d probably already sent out telepathic messages for the others to meet him at the cathedral. Aethan had told her they’d found a demonii’s hidey-hole nearby, which they figured had to be Andras’s.

  Echo walked into the cathedral with Kira. The fragrance of burning incense, candle wax, and wood polish scented the air. A tall, gleaming, wooden crucifix stood to the left of the pulpit. The echoes of their footsteps were the only sounds in the silent place, and it added to the building’s eeriness.

  She inhaled a deep breath and tried to calm her unease, reminding herself that demoniis couldn’t enter a place of worship. But if one of the suckers did, she’d just kill the fiend.

  “Shan’t be long,” Kira told her and hurried off to the altar.

  She turned and saw the hard set to Aethan’s jaw. His gaze softened when he looked at her. He brushed the shallow dimple in her chin with his thumb. “Okay. It’s safe enough. I’ll wait outside.”

  Smiling, she watched him go and knew she’d never tire of looking at him. A tall, gorgeous man. A predator of the most dangerous kind, and he was all hers. Her mate.

  The sooner she got all this out of the way, the sooner she could go home and drag him off for some alone time.

  Echo turned back to the altar with the multitude of burning candles. The flames brightened the dim interior. A little unnerved, she decided to wait until Kira finished then find out the ritual to lighting a candle. She wanted to do it right, so Tamsyn would have peace in her afterlife.

  She sat down on the wooden pew, and glanced around the interior, her attention drawn to the elegant stained-glass window. She got up for a closer look, craning her neck to study the exquisite craftsmanship. The images made in glass depicted biblical scenes, and while they were beautiful, they couldn’t compare to the ones at the castle. She preferred the warrior knights, angels, and ladies of the stained glass windows at home.

  Footsteps. Then Kira poked her in the back.

  “That was quick,” she said, turning. “Can you show me how—”

  A hand clapped over her mouth. Echo stared into bright green eyes, glowing in triumph. “Told you I’d get you.”

  Pain exploded in her head and all went dark.

  CHAPTER 33

  Aethan surveyed the back of the cathedral where the stone angel stood. With no hint of any demoniis around, his tattoo remained silent. He checked in with Blaéz who patrolled the cemetery. Nothing. Heading for Týr, Aethan found him leaning against the wall near the entrance to the cathedral.

  Týr pulled out a pack of M&M’s from his leather coat and dropped the sweets in his palm. “They’re still inside,” he said, frowning at the handful of brown colored candy left. Then, with a shrug, he tossed the lot into his mouth, shoving the empty wrapper back into his pocket.

  “What exactly are they doing again?” Aethan asked, scanning the area around them.

  “It’s a human custom, to light candles for a departed loved one.”

  Rain started to fall and a cold breeze blew in from the East River. The scent of the sea washed away the day’s smog and exhaust fumes. Gulls flew overhead, squawking furiously.

  “Ever been in one of them before?” Týr asked, for once ignoring the few females there who eyed them shamelessly as they sashayed into the cathedral.

  “What? A cathedral? Other than the quick glimpse I just got now, no.” Aethan paced along the top step in the misty rain. Stopping, he stared at the empty doorway. Edginess tightened like a noose around him.

  Týr straightened from the wall and joined him. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “I agree. I’m getting them now—”

  Hurried footsteps from inside the cathedral cut him off. He strode to the entrance just as Kira ran out.

  “Echo,” she panted. “Is she with you?”

  Aethan flashed into the cathedral and scanned the interior, ignoring the females’ gasp of surprise at his sudden appearance. ‘Echo, where are you?’

  When she didn’t respond to his telepathic link, panic began to take hold of him. He couldn’t sense any demoniis. So she had to be around somewhere. Why the hell wasn’t she answering?

  ‘Dammit, Echo, answer me!’

  He came back out to hear Kira snapping at Týr, “She was sitting in a pew, while I was at the altar. When I looked for her, she’d disappeared. I thought she’d be with you. How is this my fault?”

  A tick jumped in Týr’s jaw. “She’s your friend. You shouldn’t have come here, knowing there’s a damn demonii after her.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Her hands balled into fists. “You think I want some evil bastard getting hold of her? We only came to pay our respects for Tamsyn. We could do nothing less for a friend who gave her life to protect Echo!”

  “Kira?” Aethan stepped between them, effectively stopping her furious outburst. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  She inhaled deeply. “After you left us, Echo waited for me. She doesn’t care for religious things, never has. She only comes to church—”

  “Would you just answer the damn question,” Týr growled.

  “I will, if you stop jumping down my throat every five seconds,” she hissed at him. She turned back to Aethan. “She sat down in the third pew...wait—wait, she got up to look at the stained-glass windows, but when I looked again, she wasn’t there. I thought she came back to you.”

  Fear seized Aethan’s belly. “She didn’t come out this way.”

  He scanned the interior of the building and the surrounding areas again. Still nothing. He tried their telepathic link once more, but when only silence answered him, the vice in his gut tightened.

  “I can’t sense anything either,” Týr said. “What about her obsidian? The dagger should summon you, if she’s in danger, right?”

  Aethan shook his head. “It should. That it doesn’t isn’t a good sign. Can only mean one thing, we’re not dealing with the supernatural here.”

  ‘Blaéz, did you see Echo?’ he asked the Celt.

  ‘No. What happened?’

  Panic coiled through him. ‘She disappeared from inside the cathedral. What about the crypt?’

  ‘No activity here,’ Blaéz responded. ‘We’ll find her.’

  Aethan inhaled a ragged breath and found anxious hazel eyes pinned on him. “Týr, take Kira home—”

  “No.” Kira’s hands shot out stopping them. “I’m not leaving until we find her—”

  ‘Aethan...’ Echo’s pained voice was faint in his mind.

  ‘Echo, where are you?’

  ‘Neal—cathedral...’

  ‘Echo? Echo, talk to me!’

  Nothing. Just silence.

  “Who’s Neal?” he grounded out.

  Kira looked at him in confusion. “From the bar. The guy you tried to impale with whiskey bottles. Why?”

  His vision turned hazy as anger spread like wildfire through him.

  “Aethan?” Týr had stepped in front of Kira, his hands on Aethan’s shoulders. “Come on, man, breathe. We’ll find her.”

  Aethan shook him off. “He has her! The bastard has her.”

  Kira’s hazel eyes widened in alarm. “Oh, no. Aethan, he’s bad news. He’s still pissed at Echo for turning him down.”

  A chilling rage took hole of him. The fucker dared to touch his mate? For that he would pay with his life.

  Blaéz rounded the corner of the cathedral, his lean face set in its usual impassive lines. Dagan strode up the stairs to join them.

  “Anything?” Blaéz asked, rubbing a hand down his unshaven face.

  “A human has her,” Týr told them.

  Fury raged through Aethan and he struggled for control. Rampaging the city wasn’t going to help get Echo back. Jaw set, he said, “For him to disappear without us being aware of it, he must be traveling through the tunnels beneath the cathedral.”

  “Found something,” Dagan said. “The crypt has a labyrinth of unde
rpasses leading back to the understructure of the church. I explored some, but it branches out in several places, goes into the city and beyond.”

  Fuck! The bastard could just disappear with Echo. Aethan dematerialized to the crypt.

  As he took form, he willed the tomb door open. Seconds later, a squeaking sound filled the quiet graveyard. He stormed into the cold, musty place, as Týr materialized behind him with a moaning Kira.

  She shoved away from him. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  Aethan approached the broken entrance and stepped inside the narrow, chilly passage. Then he moved with preternatural speed through the dark tunnel. Sensing a shift in the psychic planes, he pulled up short.

  The strong stench of sulfur was a punch in his face. But beneath it, he picked up on a fading scent of his mate.

  Shit. The human was only a minion, used by the bastard demonii to get a hold of Echo. Now, he’d taken her to Hell!

  Fury raged through Aethan.

  “I’ll do this alone,” he told Dagan and Týr, who’d followed him. Blaéz had stayed back with Kira. He couldn’t risk them accompanying him to the Dark Realm. With their violent past of being held prisoner in Tartarus, the former gods would be a liability. And Echo was all that mattered right now.

  But there was one other who probably knew the way in this cesspool. He pulled out his cell phone. Dammit! No service. He shot a mind-link message to Blaéz. Kira would do the rest.

  Aethan hadn’t opened a portal since he was banished to this realm. But the old memories came back pixel clear. He drew on his powers, picturing the shifting weaves of the psychic veils and a doorway into the Dark Realm to the level where Hell resided.

  A moment later, a dark shimmering portal opened. His tattoo pulsed in agitation. Ignoring the sword’s frantic bid for freedom, Aethan stepped through the portal and into the suffocating stench of sulfur. His breathing shallow, he turned to find Dagan beside him. Sword in hand and his jaw compressed, his yellow eyes burned bright in the shadowy caverns.

  “Echo is all that matters,” Aethan warned him.

  As usual the Sumerian said nothing.

  A’Damiel took form in front of them moments later and snarled, “I cannot believe you lost her. I should have killed that bastard Neal when he first crossed her path.”

  Dagan’s gaze narrowed. “You’re the one who let Seth die.”

  “If you find comfort in that thought, so be it.”

  Aethan growled. He didn’t have time for their face-off because of a warrior who died centuries ago. He headed down the gloomy passages, his mind-link opened to Echo’s. Despite the heavy silence from her, he took comfort in feeling her presence in his soul.

  A’Damiel kept pace beside him. “This is not the place Andras is bound to. He created an alternate lair in the outer caverns, close to the demonii level,” he told them. “So he can call on his demonii minions.”

  Soon enough, they arrived at a cave reeking of decaying flesh and heavy with the coppery scent of blood. Bits of moist entrails clung to rough walls gleaming with wet gunk. The screams of never-ending torture surrounded them.

  “Dematerialize,” A’Damiel bit out. “It’s better they don’t see you in here.”

  Aethan let his molecules disperse, as did Dagan. As soon as they became one with the sulfuric air, a lizard-like demon appeared. Its scales oozing with black slime, the thing slithered toward A’Damiel. Its slitted red eyes glowed in the dark. “Ssssire,” it hissed. “Good to ssssee you—”

  “Stay out of my way, dung-heap.” With a flick of his fingers, A’Damiel sent the demon-lizard reeling into the dark recesses of the cave, the scrape of its scales ringing in the burrows. “Stay away from those things. They’d crawl up anyone’s arse to get back into Hell.”

  They traveled through more dank tunnels and bypassed several caves lit with flames erupting from the crevices in the rock face. The sounds of unbearable torture, being carried out on the damned, battered at them and thickened the air with suffering.

  “What the fuck is this place?” Aethan asked. The increasingly-rancid air made his stomach churn.

  “The Lower Levels,” A’Damiel said. “Between Hell and Tartarus in the outer strata. One would call it no man’s land.”

  What felt like hours later, A’Damiel paused at a dimly lit recess. Jagged rocks made up the entranceway. “This is Andras’s new lair. I need to take care of Lazaar first and break the spell. Give me ten minutes. If you kill Andras while he wears his brother’s glamor, Lazaar dies and Andras escapes,” A’Damiel warned then dematerialized.

  Ten minutes was too fucking long. He needed to find Echo now. Aethan took form among the bile-inducing smells and scanned the dank place. He stilled. Catching a whiff of sun-ripened raspberries in this hellhole of depravity, he tore through the underground tunnels with only one thought on his mind. Get Echo out and flatten this gods-damned place.

  Aethan followed the scent to a door camouflaged to resemble the surrounding rocky wall. With his mind, he willed the heavy rock-face apart. It slid silently away to reveal another dark chamber. The odor of pain, of death, stole his breath. Aethan let his sword shimmer into his hand.

  The lifeless bodies of human females lay haphazardly in various corners, their clothes ripped, necks torn out. Some were naked, violently used...

  Gods! Sick to his stomach, Aethan continued down the tunnel.

  CHAPTER 34

  Echo slowly regained consciousness. Her head ached. Sulfur burned her nostrils as she struggled to breathe. She found herself lying on some kind of stone slab in a dark cave, like a sacrificial lamb. Amber fire, burning behind the cracks in the rock walls, lit the place with a creepy glow.

  She tried to sit up but her body felt sluggish. And her mouth tasted vile. Nausea rose up her throat and she vomited over the side of the stone slab.

  “You’re finally awake?” Neal grabbed her face. Pinching her nose, he forced some sort of potion down her throat.

  Echo choked and shoved at him. She spat the revolting sludge on him. His face twisted in fury, and he slapped her. Pain radiated through her jaw and into her throbbing skull.

  “You thought you were too good for me,” he snarled. “I’m going to kill that blue-haired bastard of yours, then I will take you.”

  “Enough.” With a flick of his hand, Andras sent Neal scurrying off. The demonii strolled to her, his eerie red eyes skimming over her prone body.

  He reached out and ran his fingers over her stomach to her breasts. She nearly hurled in revulsion. She batted his hand away but her blow lacked strength. He laughed then trailed a finger down between her legs. Echo kicked at him, fear constricting her chest. She reached for the obsidian dagger tucked in her boot. Glad now she’d hidden the blade in her footwear.

  Andras snatched her weapon and smiled. He grasped her flaying arm when she tried to grab it and shoved the blade into his pocket.

  “Dear girl, you’re going to be mine. Yes, you’ve joined with the warrior, but you see, once he’s dead, your mating bond will be broken, and I shall claim you—Neal, you fool,” he snarled. His eyes flamed red. “Be careful with that.”

  Neal stood near the wall, watching her with an avaricious look, edged with hatred. In his hands was some kind of gun, his finger nervously playing with the trigger.

  “It’s my little surprise for the warrior,” Andras said, turning back to her. “A lovely spelled bullet made especially for him.”

  “No!” Echo cried. Twisting, she broke free of the clamp Andras had on her arm. She lashed out and nailed Andras across the face. A snarl filled the cave, a fist crashed into her temple, and darkness closed around her.

  ***

  A’Damiel stepped out of Andras’s chambers and found Belphegore leaning against the rough wall of the passageway, studying the glowing crevice that spurted out flames on the opposite side of the corridor.

  Bel turned and a smirk rode his face. “Another visit? I’m honored. Or does the delectable ward of yours need guard
ing, again?”

  A’Damiel narrowed his eyes at the demon he’d left guarding Andras’s chambers. “I need to find Lazaar fast,” he snapped. “Echo’s life depends on it.”

  Instantly, Bel lost his banter and straightened. “What happened?’

  A’Damiel growled, “Andras tied himself to his brother. Makes killing the bastard impossible while he wears Lazaar’s glamor.”

  Bel shook his head and sighed. “Yes. Kill Andras in glamor, his brother dies, and the twit escapes. The laws of a glamor spell.”

  A’Damiel dematerialized, heading deep into Lower Strata of the Dark Realm, followed by Bel. The immense heat was so thick, A’Damiel thought he would need an axe to cleave a path through it. Nostrils flaring, he closed his eyes and scanned psychically for Lazaar. In a place filled with hissing flames and scaly demons slithering about, he found one still figure.

  “He’s close.” Ignoring the broken cries coming from behind the walls, he headed into a narrow passage. The searing heat and shooting flames filling the tunnel would have incinerated him, had he not been immune to it.

  Bel shot up beside him, scowling as steam rose from his body. “I hate this place,” he muttered. “I’m a mist demon, not of fire—the things I do for a pretty face.”

  A’Damiel stopped at the dead end of the tunnel. Two seven-foot tall demoniis in their lizard-like form, snarled.

  “Take care of them,” A’Damiel ordered Bel.

  The demoniis attacked.

  “Oh shit!” Bel vanished. The next moment a heavy fog surrounded the demoniis.

  A’Damiel left Bel to his games and scanned the area again, finding the entrance he wanted. With his mind, he willed the walls to open. Creaking loudly, the granite rock-face to his left shuddered apart.

  Lazaar lay in a tangle of limbs on the ground in an obscure, dugout cavern. A’Damiel hoped to the Heavens he was in time to break the spell as he set to work.

  ***