The Darkest Whisper lotu-5

by Gena Showalter

  She shivered. The stimulation and memories were almost—almost—enough to distract her from the beauty of Budapest. There were castlelike homes, modern buildings, green trees, bricked streets and birds eating crumbs from them. There was a murky river, an iron-enclosed bridge and a chapel that dusted the sky with its points. There were columns and statues and multihued lights.

  Sabin almost managed to distract her from the townspeople, as well. They regarded him with awe, stepping out of his way but still trying to connect with him, any part of him. Some even gasped, “Angel” when he passed.

  They shopped for several hours, and not once did he seem irritated with her need to try everything on, to draw every piece of material across her cheek and twirl in front of the full-length mirrors. Often she caught him smiling.

  After deciding on several pairs of jeans, a handful of colorful T-shirts and glittery pink flip-flops, as well as her own set of makeup, they moved on to the food. But who cared about ever eating again? She was wearing her new clothes! A snug pair of denims and a lovely pink T-shirt.

  She’d never been so happy with how she looked. After a year in that skimpy white tank and skirt, she felt beautiful and comfortable and, well, normal. Human. As they left the grocery store with their bounty, Sabin eyed her as though she was his favorite ice cream cone.

  Of course, then the whispers began.

  Are you sure you look okay? I wonder if your breath smells bad. How many women has Sabin been with? How many were prettier and smarter and braver than you?

  Gwen’s happy mood faded, edginess taking its place. The whispers continued, and soon even the Harpy’s feathers became ruffled. If a total meltdown happened, havoc would invade this lovely town and Sabin would be hurt. Much as Sabin irritated her, Gwen still didn’t want a single drop of his blood spilled.

  Right now he was loading their groceries into the back of the car, his muscles bunching with every movement. Breads, meats, fruits and vegetables abounded. The scents were divine. Several times in the store the temptation had proven to be too great, her mouth watering, and she’d pilfered. But her skills were seriously rusty, for Sabin had caught her every time. He hadn’t protested, though. No, he’d encouraged her with a smile or a wink, as if he were proud of her. That had shocked her—shocked her still.

  Gwen leaned a hip against the taillight. “Your demon is very close to ruining my entire day.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. For the record, you look amazing, your breath is fresh, I haven’t been with that many and there are none prettier or smarter than you.”

  He didn’t mention braver, she noticed. “Distract me. Tell me more about the artifacts you’re looking for.”

  He paused, a bag suspended midair. Sunlight cascaded all around him, dark hair shimmering, lifting in the breeze. His eyes narrowed on her—something they did a lot, she mused. “That isn’t something I can discuss out in the open like this.”

  Was that just an excuse to keep her in the dark?

  Or was his demon rubbing off on her, and she doubted him just because?

  Argh! “You can tell me. I’m working for you now.” Wasn’t she? Hadn’t they decided she would do the clerical stuff? She hadn’t named her price, but that was because the first thing that had come to mind was room and board in his fortress. For, like, ever. How dumb was that? “I’m helping you find them.”

  “And I’ll tell you about them. Later.”

  Okay, so maybe the demon was rubbing off on her.

  Sabin returned to the bags, finesse gone as he tossed them inside with a flick of his wrist. She winced when she heard the eggs crack.

  “By the way, we never reached an agreement about your duties,” he said.

  Gwen propped her elbow above her head, resting her head in her hand, nails digging into her scalp. “Do you not think I’m capable of clerical work or do you just not respect me enough to let me prove myself in that way?”

  “Wait. Did you just throw out the R word in a discussion about clerical work?” His jaw worked left and right, popping. “What is it with women? Make out a little, and suddenly everything you do means you lack respect for them.”

  “That’s not true.” He’d had to go there, hadn’t he? Just talking about it, she felt the hot drops of water on her skin, felt his hands caressing her, his teeth biting at her. He’s not the kind of man you want for yourself. It was sad that she needed the reminder. And would probably need it again. And again. “One, I’ve been offering to help and you claim you want me to, but you’ve never actually told me how I can get started. Two, the shower has nothing to do with anything. In fact, let’s make a pact never to discuss what happened in there again.”

  He turned to her, bags completely forgotten now. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to physically fight your enemy.”

  “No, not why do you think I don’t respect you or why do I want you to do clerical work, but why don’t you want to discuss the shower?”

  Cheeks heating, she straightened, looked away. “Because.”

  “Why?” he insisted.

  Because I’ll want more. “Mixing business with pleasure is more dangerous than we are,” she said dryly.

  A muscle ticked below his eye and he stared over at her, taking her measure, she was sure, and waiting for her to back down. She didn’t, and that surprised her. She wasn’t afraid of him, she realized. Not even a little.

  “Get in the car,” he commanded.

  “Sabin.”

  “Car.”

  A curse on domineering men!

  When they were buckled inside, he started the engine but didn’t pull out onto the road. He shielded his eyes with sunglasses, placed a hand on her thigh and faced her. “Now that we’re alone, I don’t mind telling you about the artifacts. But the moment you know, it means you’re stuck with me. You’re not leaving with your sisters, you’re not venturing away from the fortress by yourself. Understood?”

  Wait. What? “Just how long are we talking about here?”

  “Until they’re found.”

  Which could be a few days. Or eternity. Which she’d secretly wanted, but not because she had no choice. “I’m not agreeing to any such thing. I was imprisoned for a year already and have no desire to live that way again. I do have a life to return to, you know.” Well, kind of. Not that she’d even tried. Or wanted to. “There are things to do, people to see.”

  He shrugged. “Then you’ll get nothing out of me.” With that, he maneuvered the vehicle onto the road. He drove slowly, easing into traffic. His caution seemed…odd. Against his live-on-the-edge personality. Was this for her benefit? To keep her safe? The thought was kind of sweet.

  Don’t you dare soften toward him!

  “You like staying at the fortress. Admit it,” he said.

  Was this information that could be used against her? Yes. Would keeping it secret award her some type of advantage? Yes. Would a lie serve just as well, if not better? Yes. But when she opened her mouth, the truth spilled out. “Fine. I admit it. I’ve been alone and afraid for a year. You and your friends came and suddenly I wasn’t alone. I was still afraid, but no one hurt me or threatened me, and that feeling of safety is just so wonderful I can’t bring myself to leave.”

  “You could have gotten the same feelings from your sisters.” His tone had softened; his fingers massaged her leg. “Right?”

  “Right.” Kind of. “I could have lied about what happened, I suppose, so there’d be no tension, but they’ve always been able to see right through me. I can lie to anyone but them.” And Sabin, it seemed. “You guys are like a vacation away from life. Only, you want me to work on my vacation. And that’s okay,” she rushed out, “as long as it’s desk work.”

  He sighed, loud and long, the sound of it echoing through the vehicle. “Listen up, because I’ll only offer this information once. There are four artifacts. The Cage of Compulsion, the Paring Rod, the Cloak of Invisibility and the All-Seeing Eye. Somehow, when all four are together, they’ll poi
nt the way to Pandora’s box. We own two. The cage and the eye.”

  “What are they, exactly? I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Whoever’s locked inside the cage is forced to do whatever is commanded of them. Anything and everything, nothing is too sacred, as long as it doesn’t hurt Cronus. Since he had the thing constructed, he somehow made sure it couldn’t be used against him.”

  Wow. Gwen had to admire anyone with that level of power. She couldn’t even control her own dark side.

  “We’re not sure what the rod does. The cloak is pretty self-explanatory and the eye shows us what’s happening in heaven. And hell.” He rested his head on the back of the seat, eyes still on the road. “Danika is the eye.”

  Okay, double wow. The petite blonde who looked so normal could see the wonders of heaven and the horrors of hell? Poor thing. Gwen knew what it was like to be different, to be…more. Maybe they could be friends, throw back a few cold ones and whine about their troubles. How cool would that be? She’d never had that before. “So how’d you find the cage and the eye?”

  “We followed clues Zeus left behind so that he himself could one day reclaim them.”

  Like a treasure hunt. Trés badass. “Can I see the cage?” She couldn’t disguise the excitement that laced her voice. Her sisters, paid mercenaries that they were, had often left her home, alone, while they traipsed the world on hunts of their own. She’d always wanted to go. Or, at the very least, enjoy the spoils of their victories with them. But they’d always passed the item to its new owner before returning home, so she’d never gotten her wish.

  Sabin’s attention flicked briefly to her, and she could feel the heat of his gaze. “There’s no need,” he said sternly.

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “What could it hurt?”

  “A lot, actually.”

  “Fine.” Once again, she was to be left out. She tried to hide her disappointment. “What are you going to do with Pandora’s box when you find it?”

  His fingers whitened around the wheel. “Smash it to pieces.”

  The answer of a warrior. She was glad. “Anya mentioned it could draw the demon out of you, killing you and locking away the demon.”

  “Yes.”

  “What happens if you’re killed without the box? Does the demon die, too?”

  “So many questions,” he tsked.

  “Sorry.” She traced a circle over her knee. “I’ve always been too curious for my own good.” That curiosity had nearly gotten her killed a few times. Once, as a young child, she’d been exploring her family’s mountain and she’d stumbled upon a calm, serene river. If she were submerged, would she be able to see the fish swimming through it? she’d wondered. And if so, how many would there be, what color would they be and would she be able to catch one?

  The moment she dove in, the icy water had completely depleted her strength. It hadn’t mattered that there was no current. She hadn’t had the energy to keep herself afloat. The Harpy had taken over, but the water had frozen her wings to her back, preventing her from flying out.

  Kaia had heard her panicked cries and saved her, and she’d received the thrashing of a lifetime. But that hadn’t stopped her from wondering about those silly fish.

  “—listening to me?” Sabin said, his voice cutting into her thoughts.

  “No, sorry.”

  His lips twitched. She loved when they did that. Made the larger-than-life male seem, well, human. “What I’m telling you is privileged information, Gwen. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  Oh, yes. She understood. It could be used against him, given to Hunters to hurt him. “You saved me. I’m not going to betray you, Sabin. But if you think I’m capable of that, why do you even want me on your team?” The fact that he didn’t believe in her bruised her more than she would have thought possible. Maybe he can’t help himself. Maybe his demon keeps him from trusting in anyone. She blinked at that. Made sense, and didn’t sting quite so much.

  “I do trust you. But you could be captured and tortured for the information. You’re strong and fast and I don’t think it will come to that, but they were able to get to you before, so…”

  Every drop of moisture in her mouth dried. “I—uh…” Tortured?

  “That’s not to say I would allow that to happen.”

  Slowly she calmed. Of course he wouldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t, either. She was a coward, but she was also vicious when she needed to be, and she’d learned her lesson on evasion well. “I still want the info.”

  “Good, because I was testing you and you passed. This can’t be used against me since Hunters already know. If I’m killed and the box is not around, the demon will be free. Crazed, insane and more dangerous and destructive than ever, but free.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s why they want to capture you rather than kill you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Different troops were always coming and going in the catacombs, but every time one regiment would leave to fight—I didn’t know who at the time—they would remind each other not to kill, only to injure and—”

  “Shit,” he suddenly spat, cutting her off. “We’re being followed. Damn it!” He banged a fist into the steering wheel. “I allowed myself to be distracted or I would have caught them before now.”

  Ignoring the accusation in his voice and the new stream of hurt that came with it, Gwen spun in her seat, peering out the darkened glass. Sure enough, there were three cars following them around a corner. Each had tinted windows, so she couldn’t see inside to count the number of men bearing down on them. “Hunters?”

  “Absolutely. Shit!” Sabin growled again, and it was the only warning she had before a fourth car pulled out in front of them. Boom. Crunch. Metal crashed against metal.

  She was thrown forward, saved from injuries by her seat belt and the airbag.

  “You good?” Sabin demanded.

  “Yes,” she managed. Her heart was drumming uncontrollably, her blood like ice in her veins.

  Sabin was already reaching for the blades strapped to his body, the silver tips gleaming in the sunlight. “Lock yourself inside,” he said. He dropped two blades on the dash between them. “Unless you want to fight?” He didn’t give her time to reply, just jumped from the car, slamming his door shut behind him.

  Bile rose in Gwen’s throat as she locked the door. Bile mixed with shame and fear. How could she sit here, allowing him to fight—she scanned the groups emerging from the now stopped vehicles, running for him, guns raised—fourteen men on his own? Dear Lord. Fourteen!

  She couldn’t.

  Pop. Whiz.

  I’m a Harpy. I can fight. I can win. I can help him.

  Her sisters wouldn’t have hesitated. They would have been on top of the cars, ripping the roofs to shreds before the wheels had even stopped turning. I can do this. I can. With a shaky hand, she lifted the weapons. They were heavier than they appeared, their handles like lava against her too-cold skin.

  This one time. She’d fight this one time. But that was it. After that, she was going on full-time clerical duty. Another pop. Another whiz. Then a loud thunck! She yelped. Yes, I can do this. Maybe.

  Where the hell was the Harpy? Her vision was normal, not infrared, and there wasn’t a need for blood inside her mouth.

  The lazy bitch was probably sated by food and touch, sleeping even. If Gwen hadn’t spent so much time suppressing the dark side of her nature, she might have known how to summon it. Now, it seemed, she was on her own.

  Pop. Scream.

  Can’t stay in here forever. Gulping, trembling, she emerged from the car. A horrific sight instantly greeted her. Sabin, locked in a lethal dance, arms slashing, knives cutting, blood spraying. Hunters, shooting him full of holes. To his credit, he never slowed.

  “Stupid, going out alone, demon,” one of the strangers said. “Give us back our women, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Gwen should have known Hunters would r
etaliate for what had happened in those catacombs.

  Sabin snorted. “Your women are gone.”

  “Not the redhead. We saw her with you. That whore certainly cozied up quick.”

  “Call her that again. I dare you.” There was so much fury in his voice, Gwen was surprised the Hunters didn’t bail then and there.

  “She’s a whore and you’re a bastard. I’m gonna jam you up with copper, revive you and spend the rest of my life making you pay for what you did in Egypt.”

  “You murdered our friends, you son of a bitch,” someone else piped in.

  Sabin didn’t say another word. Just continued to pound forward, eyes glowing bright red, a flash of sharp, gnarled bones suddenly visible beneath his skin. Bodies toppled around him, but how much longer could he last? There were—eight more. Eight still shooting at him. Not to kill, but to incapacitate, going for his calves, his upper arms.

  Gwen could almost hear his demon tossing dangerous little insecurities in their ears: You can’t really beat him, you know that, right? There’s a very good chance your wife is going to have to identify your body tonight.

  Blocking the sound, drawing on every ounce of courage she possessed, she inched forward. She’d distract the Hunters, allowing Sabin to pounce. Yes, yes. Good plan. Okay. How best to distract them so Sabin could swoop in and work his magic, though? Without getting killed or maimed in the process, she qualified.

  The answer came to her, and she almost vomited. No, no, no. There’s no other way, one part of her said.

  This is stupid and suicidal, the other part replied. Didn’t matter. She was doing something, acting brave for the first time in her life, and it felt…good. Really good, actually. She was still scared, still trembling, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Not this time. Sabin had saved her from the Hunters, so she owed him one. More than that, as she peered over at the men partly responsible for her year-long confinement, she felt a sense of entitlement mixed with an urge to hurt.

  Sabin had been right. It would feel good to destroy her enemy, up close and personal. The only problem: she wasn’t a trained soldier like her sisters. She knew what to do, but could she actually succeed?