The Darkest Whisper lotu-5

by Gena Showalter

  If he even attempted to utter a truth, any kind of truth, sharp pain burned through him. Pain far worse than one person should ever have to endure. Like knives dipped in acid, covered in salt and topped off with venom, then stabbed into his gut and raked all the way from his brain to his feet over and over again.

  “We didn’t survive a bomb a while back,” he added, because yeah, they had. Only a few months had passed since the blast in question and he still remembered the shock and pain of it. But he would willingly endure it again. Too long had passed since he’d sunk his blade or fired off a round into his enemy. The dry spell made him twitchy. “So we damn sure can’t survive anything else they throw at us. Even spells.”

  Gideon was proof the Lords could not only survive a bunch of shit but also come out grinning. Once, Hunters managed to capture and imprison him. The next three months of his life had been torture. Literally. He would rather have roasted in hell than endure the poking, prodding, testing and beatings that took him to the brink of death, only to be revived so that he could be beaten again.

  Sabin had found and saved him, actually carting Gideon over his shoulder because Gideon had been unable to walk. They’d just cut off his feet to watch them regenerate. Perhaps that was why Gideon loved the warrior so much. Would do anything for him. I’ll kill a few Hunters just for him. That Sabin wasn’t here, when the boss man lived for this kind of shit…

  It was the Harpy’s fault, he was sure. Never had Sabin been so obsessed with a woman, locking himself away with her, ignoring his duties. Gideon was glad his friend had found someone, but unsure what it meant for their war.

  “I have an idea,” Strider said. Strider always had ideas. Since victory was necessary for his continued good health, he often planned and strategized for hours, days, weeks before marching into battle. “Ashlyn found the immortals for the Hunters. Hell, she probably found the witches for them. So we’ll just have her find one for us. Our witch can undo whatever spell their witch cast, if it’s actually a spell we’re dealing with, and boom, victory.”

  “Time is not our friend right now. We need these kids out of our enemy’s hands. We need to return to searching for the box,” Lucien said.

  “But, baby,” Anya said, worry in her voice.

  “I’ll be fine, love. I won your heart, I can do anything.” Lucien kissed her, lingering despite the urgency in his tone, before disappearing completely. The human workers continued to bustle around them, oblivious. If they could see and hear the warriors, they gave no indication.

  Anya sighed, dreaming. “Gods, that man revs my engine.”

  Reyes chuckled.

  Strider rolled his eyes.

  Amun remained as stoic as ever.

  No, not stoic, Gideon thought. But edged with something dark. Lines of tension branched from the man’s dark eyes and set mouth. His shoulders were stiff, as though the muscles were knotted. The last trip inside the mind of that Hunter in the pyramid must have really messed him up.

  If there were anything Gideon could do to help him, he would do it. Gideon loved the silent giant. No one was kinder, no one was more caring. As Gideon had recovered from his footbotomy, Amun had been the one to bring him food, make sure his bandages were clean and even carry him outside for fresh air.

  Not knowing what else to do, he switched places with Strider so that he was standing next to Amun, and slapped the big guy on the back. Amun didn’t face him, but his lips did twitch into a small smile.

  “Quick, someone distract me,” Anya said. “I’m bored.”

  Everyone groaned. A bored Anya was a troublesome Anya. But Gideon knew the truth. He still heard the worry in the goddess’s voice. She didn’t like to be parted from Lucien.

  “We totally could not play How Am I Going To Kill The Hunters,” he suggested.

  “I’ll stab them,” Reyes said instantly, the gleam in his dark eyes ferocious.

  “I’ll shoot them,” Strider replied. “In the groin.”

  “I’ll snap their necks,” Anya said, rubbing her palms together, “then make them watch me cut out their intestines.” She’d do it, too. Anyone who threatened Lucien ended up on her Must Torture list. “No need to tell us you’d kiss them, Gideon. We already know.”

  A symphony of chuckles abounded.

  So much for trying to be kind to Anya. He flipped each one of them off.

  “I know what we can do,” Reyes said. Normally he had a dagger in each hand and was cutting himself as he spoke. Not today. Not while parted from Danika. That was a pain all its own, he often said. “Let’s take bets on how Sabin’s doing with the Harpy.”

  “Man has balls, that’s for sure,” Strider said. “Gwen’s pretty, but anyone who can rip out your throat…” He shuddered.

  “Hey!” Anya leveled them with a scowl. “That wasn’t Gwen’s fault. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with performing a throat extraction on a Hunter. Anyway, the way I hear it, she was scared. You don’t scare a Harpy and live to brag. That’s, like, one of the first things they teach you in deity school. The entire race is just violent by nature. I mean, you’ve met Gwen’s sisters, right?”

  This time, everyone shuddered.

  “Sabin is a lucky bastard,” Gideon said.

  Anya’s gaze locked on him, but her expression was suddenly dazed, as if she saw past him. A hum of power drifted from her, wrapping around him, squeezing. When she focused, a smile bloomed. “Better watch it,” she said. “Or you’re going to be fated to love a female far worse than a Harpy. The gods are fun that way.”

  The heat drained from his cheeks, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Do you know something?” She was a goddess and potentially privy to information they weren’t.

  “Maybe,” she said with a dainty shrug.

  “Don’t you dare tell me!” He loved women, he did. But take one permanently, when a single one had never truly satisfied him? Hell, no. Violent as his life was, he needed something extreme to push him over the edge. When his partners asked how to please him, he had to tell them the opposite. How much worse would it be if he were strapped with a single female? He would never get sex the way he truly craved, not even accidentally.

  “I’d absolutely tell you if I knew.”

  She was lying. He knew she was. Lying was a passion of hers. How did Lucien stand her? Hey, wait a sec, he thought, disgusted.

  Suddenly Lucien materialized, his scarred face confused as everyone crowded around him. “The place is furnished but abandoned. No paperwork, but I did see clothing strewn about. Sizes only children can wear. Must have left in a hurry.”

  Frowning, Strider rubbed his temple. “That means we’re too late, that we made the trip for nothing.”

  “There are strange markings on the wall, though,” the scarred warrior added. “I could not decipher them. I want to flash you in one at a time so if the outside area is still being monitored, we won’t be spotted. Surely someone among us will have seen the markings before and know what they mean.”

  Didn’t take long. Within five minutes they were inside the building. Gideon was swaying from dizziness—flashing sucked—Strider was laughing, Reyes pale and clutching his stomach, Anya dancing around the empty room, and Amun staring into the distance.

  “This way,” Lucien said.

  They stalked down narrow corridors, their booted footsteps echoing. Gideon traced a finger over the wall; it was painted a sickening gray. That had been the color of his cell while in captivity. The only furniture he’d been given was a bed with wrist and ankle straps.

  Bad memories. He didn’t like to venture down that brain path unless he was in the middle of a fight. Helped channel his rage. He looked around. There were multiple bedrooms. Well, they were more like barracks, with fifteen beds to a space. There were also what appeared to be classrooms.

  Left, right, right, left and they entered a gymnasium, everyone remaining on guard. One wall was mirrored with a bar in front of it. For…ballet? he wondered. Of course, he thought next. Ki
llers could be more effective when they were flexible.

  Three of the walls were gray, just like the hall. But the last was painted in a multitude of colors. Gideon couldn’t make out a single picture, only sharp, jagged lines and sweeping arches. They were a mess.

  “It’s lovely,” he muttered.

  “It’s also a spell, as we suspected,” Anya replied.

  Bodies closed around him. Fingers were soon tracing, eyes following, searching for patterns.

  “I’ve seen this before,” Reyes said darkly. “In the books I used to learn more about Anya.”

  When Anya had first come to them, no one had known if she meant them harm. Not their fault, either. The woman was renowned throughout the ages for the trouble she caused.

  “Oh, Panie. Your interest still flatters me, but really, get over your crush. I’m taken. Now about the spell. They definitely used the old language,” she said. “Though they added their own flare, and I’m having trouble deciphering certain words. That one means dark, that one means power, and that one…helpless, I think.”

  “I don’t want to leave now,” Gideon said, spine suddenly tingling in warning. Danger was nearby.

  Reyes sighed. “The lying is already getting on my nerves.”

  “I care. I do,” Gideon told him dryly. “My heart is actually hurting for you. And just so you know, I can go without lying just like you can go without cutting yourself.”

  Another sigh. Then, “Sorry,” Reyes said. “I shouldn’t have gone there. Lie all you want.”

  “I won’t.”

  Strider belted out a laugh and slapped him on the shoulder.

  Gideon knew he was annoying. He did. But he couldn’t stop.

  Suddenly Anya, who had been muttering under her breath, reading, gasped. “Oh my gods.” One step, two, she backed away from the wall. She was trembling, and in all the weeks Gideon had known her, all the battles they’d fought together, he’d never seen the courageous female tremble. “Flash us, Lucien. Now. All of us, if possible.”

  Lucien didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time asking why. He stalked to her and wrapped his arms around her, clearly intending to flash her first—because whether she knew it or not, he couldn’t transport more than he could touch. But it was too late. Dark, metal shades fell over the room’s two windows, drowning out all hint of light.

  Down the hall, he could hear the same shades closing over the other windows.

  Gideon spun around, palming his daggers. He wanted to lash out, but it was now so dark he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, much less his friends. He didn’t want to cut the wrong person.

  “Lucien,” Anya cried.

  “I’m here, baby, but I can’t flash. I can’t seem to force my body to dematerialize anymore.” Lucien had never sounded so grim. “It’s like there’s some sort of a magnetic shield locking my spirit to my body.”

  “There is,” Anya said. “Magic. I activated it the rest of the way when I read the spell aloud.”

  There was an ominous pause as everyone digested that, realization bubbling in Gideon’s throat, practically choking him.

  “What do the designs mean?” Strider finally asked.

  “Most of it is the spell, locking us in the dark, our powers gone, our bodies helpless. The last line, though, is a message to all of you. It says, Welcome to hell, Lords of the Underworld. You’ll be here until you die.”

  CHAPTER 22

  The first woman Aeron had found for Paris, the warrior had previously slept with. Not that Paris had known it by looking at her. His body’s lack of response had given him away. So back to town she’d gone. Since receiving his demon, Paris had only once gotten hard for the same woman twice. And that was the female who had died and couldn’t be reborn. Because of me.

  The second woman Aeron had found for his friend had been a no go, as well. Same reason. The third had been a tourist, new to town, and had thankfully never crossed paths with the warrior. Aeron had abducted her right out of her hotel room while she slept so that his tattooed face and inhuman wings wouldn’t frighten her. She’d woken up next to Paris and when she’d glimpsed his pretty face, she’d climbed on board for the ride of her life.

  Today, Aeron was flying his friend into town. No more taking females back and forth. It was a waste of time. This way, Paris could choose whom he wanted and Aeron could quickly and efficiently procure her for him. The two could have their fun in Gilly’s apartment, the safest place Aeron knew of, since Torin had the entire building wired like a maximum security prison to keep Danika’s young friend safe. Aeron hadn’t liked it when she had moved out of the fortress—she was too fragile, too skittish—but the warriors freaked her out and time hadn’t calmed her. Aeron would take her to the coffee shop across the street, if she’d let him, and keep her company while they waited.

  A perfect plan. Well, as perfect as he could work it.

  If only Paris and the Harpies had gotten along. But Promiscuity had taken one look at the beautiful women and deemed them “too much effort.” Aeron supposed he knew the feeling. He himself hadn’t enjoyed a female in over a hundred years, and he wouldn’t enjoy one for a hundred more. If ever. As he’d told his sweet Legion, they were simply too weak, too easily destroyed, while he would most likely live forever.

  He wasn’t sure he could survive having to watch another loved one die.

  Speaking of loved ones, had Legion returned to hell? Was she in danger? She wasn’t happy unless she was with Aeron and he wasn’t complete unless she was perched on his shoulders.

  The so-called angel hadn’t visited him in days. Hopefully, she was gone for good and Legion would return.

  He leaned to the left, turning smoothly. Pinks and purples streaked the sky, the sun setting perfectly. Wind whipped across his scalp, his hair too short to ruffle. Paris’s, though, continually slapped his cheeks. The warrior was cradled against his chest, arms wrapped around his back, under his wings.

  He remained low and in the shadows, out of view.

  “I don’t want to do this,” Paris said flatly.

  “Too bad. You need it.”

  “What are you? My pimp now?”

  “If I have to be. Look, you found a woman you could bed more than once. Surely you can find another. We just have to look for her.”

  “Damn you! That’s like telling a man whose arm has been chopped off that you’ll sew someone else’s on him. It’s not going to be the same. It won’t be the right color, the right length. Nothing will be as perfect as the other.”

  “Then I’ll petition Cronus for Sienna’s return. You said her soul is in the heavens, yes?”

  “Yes,” was the grudging response. “He’ll say no. He said I had a choice, and if I didn’t pick her he would ensure she never returned to earth. He’s probably already killed her. Again.”

  “I can sneak into the heavens. I can search for her.”

  There was a long pause, as though Paris was considering his words. “You could be caught, imprisoned. Then my sacrifice would be in vain. Just…forget about Sienna.”

  Problem was, Aeron couldn’t forget about her until Paris did. He was going to have to ponder this, decide how to proceed. All he knew was that he wanted his friend back. The laughing, carefree warrior who had a smile for everyone.

  “City’s crowded tonight,” he observed, hoping to bring them to a safer topic.

  “Yes.”

  “Wonder what’s going on.” The moment he’d spoken, he experienced a twinge of dread. Last time it had been this crowded, the Hunters had invaded. He studied the people below more closely, looking for the telltale sign of the Hunters. A tattoo of infinity. But these people were wearing watches, long sleeves, and he couldn’t see their wrists. Besides, while he knew Hunters were proud of their brands, he also knew they could have started hiding them, marking themselves in discreet locations. Would have been the smart thing to do. “I’m sorry, but we need to go back to the fortress.”

  “Good.”

  Ae
ron was already heavily armed, and he never minded fighting on his own, but he had Paris with him. Paris, who was still fuzzed from those massive amounts of ambrosia and would be more a hindrance than a help.

  “Wait. Stop!” Paris had tensed against him, and his tone had been disbelieving, hopeful and dripping with wonder.

  “What?”

  “I think I saw…I think…Sienna.” He said her name as if it was a prayer.

  “How is that possible?” Aeron scanned the ground. There were so many faces and he was moving so quickly, he couldn’t really distinguish one from another. But if Paris had seen Sienna, if she was somehow once again alive, then Hunters were definitely here. “Where?”

  “Back. Go back. She was heading south.” There was so much excitement in Paris’s voice, Aeron couldn’t resist.

  Despite the danger, he turned. He wanted to toss out a warning, don’t get your hopes up, but couldn’t. Stranger things had happened.

  Suddenly Paris jerked, grunted. “Find shelter! Now!”

  Aeron felt something warm and wet slide over his arms where he gripped Paris’s waist. Then a barrage of arrows pierced Aeron’s wings, tearing the membrane. His arms and legs were next, the muscles ripped open, the bones nicked. As he jerked in pain, understanding dawned. Hunters were indeed here, and they’d spotted him. Had probably been watching and waiting for just such an opportunity.

  My fault, he thought. Again. He began to fall…fall…twisting and turning. Crashing.

  TORIN LEANED BACK in his chair, hands locked behind his head, feet propped on his desk. He’d been glued here for days, barely leaving to eat, shower or, hell, live. Cameo hadn’t come to see him since the night of her return, and maybe that was for the best. He couldn’t concentrate when she was near and he had more work on his plate than ever before.

  He kept the warriors well-moneyed, playing with stocks and bonds. He monitored the surrounding area for intruders. He made all travel arrangements. He researched any leads on Pandora’s box, the artifacts or the Hunters. He was even scouring news sites for any sign of a man-with-wings sighting. Aka Galen. To the best of Torin’s knowledge, Galen and Aeron were the only warriors who possessed the means of flight.