Bottom line: they’d asked for it. Literally asked for it. While he’d “worked,” jamming out to “Scotty Doesn’t Know” by Lustra, one of his favorite songs because he felt like the lyrics epitomized his life, he’d given his targets adrenaline injections, preventing them from passing out. Of course, he’d also torqued their veins, preventing them from bleeding out.
Fainting and blood loss ruined a good torturing every damn time.
Toward the end, when they’d realized there was no hope for survival, the begging had commenced. Only after they’d confessed to their sins, infuriating him beyond all reason as he learned that the abuse he’d imagined had not come close to the full truth, that Gilly had endured far worse, had he ended them. He almost wished he hadn’t. Would have been nice to stretch out the session for a few more days. Oh, well.
Now he had some cleaning up to do.
William turned a full circle, surveying the carnage and trying to decide where to begin. Maybe he should just walk away. There was just too much to do. Then he recalled the way humans liked to freak out, how news stations liked to blast “psychopath on the loose” stories, and figured word would reach Gilly. Not that he wanted to keep her in the dark about what had happened. He’d tell her. One day. In the far future. When she was older. Like…fifty, maybe.
After everything these people—no, these monsters—had done to her, she wouldn’t be upset. How could she be? They’d damaged her in the worst of ways when she’d been too young and weak to protect herself. He’d simply returned the favor.
His stomach churned as a thought occurred to him. Maybe she would have liked to kill them herself. To deliver her own vengeance, find closure, that sort of thing. Or, what if he had this all wrong and she had wanted them left alone? Humans were so particular about lines you could and couldn’t cross, and gods forbid if you dared leap over one. You were forever labeled wicked and fiendish.
Like William’s long-ago good buddy Vlad the Impaler. Talk about getting a bad rap. Behead a few thousand of your enemies, spear their bodies on pikes and display them for the world to see and boom, you were “evil.” It was ridiculous!
To humans, torture and death weren’t simply a part of the circle of life. The torturing was frowned upon, considered inhumane, and the death of a family member was a reason to mourn. They didn’t understand the soul carried on in some capacity or another, that might equaled right, and weakness invited the wrath of your rivals.
“What in all hell did you do?” a male voice suddenly gasped out from behind him.
William spun—and found himself facing a very pale Kane. “What are you doing here? In fact, how’d you get here?”
Kane’s hazel eyes never strayed from the wreckage. “I asked the Fates to send me to you,” he said distractedly. “How many people did you take out in here? A hundred?”
“What were you doing with the Fates? No one gets to see them. And why the hell seek me?”
“They summoned me, and we’ll get to that.” He pointed to something on the floor. “What is that?”
William didn’t bother to look. “Does it matter? Grab a trash bag and start chucking.” Why had the Fates summoned Kane? The second the question formed, William dismissed it. He didn’t really care. “We’ve got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it.”
Recruiting the keeper of Disaster wouldn’t have been his first choice—they’d never really hung out. And besides, Kane attracted the kind of trouble he’d do best to avoid, for a while at least—but William wasn’t going to complain.
“Who are—were—these people?”
“Names are so last season, don’t you think? All you need to know is that they offended me.”
“Offended you,” Kane echoed, still unmoving.
“Yeah.”
Kane met his stare. “Their names wouldn’t happen to be Gilly’s Parents, would they? Because, the way I hear it, you were jonesing for a piece of them. Several pieces, it seems.” There was no condemnation in his tone, only acceptance.
The lack of condemnation didn’t matter. Never confirm nor deny something you’ve done, but always threaten those who question you. That had always been William’s motto. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll personally ensure your pancreas receives the same treatment.”
Kane didn’t piss his pants in fear. Just blinked over at him.
“Why were you with the Fates, anyway?” He still didn’t care, but he would have discussed something as boring as the weather if it meant changing the subject.
Kane shook his head, those brown, black and gold locks swaying against his cheeks. Without a word, he stomped off to the kitchen. He returned a short while later, two Hefty bags in hand. He gave one to William.
“Thanks.”
Quiet, they worked side by side for half an hour.
Kane ruined it with a sigh. “So you asked about the Fates.”
“I also asked why you came to see me in particular. I’ve already lost interest.”
“Well, find it again. You’ll want to hear this, since it will affect you and all.”
Smart move, offering a tidbit of information to entice him. William often used the same tactic. “Spill already.”
“They told me…they told me—” Kane released one end of his bag and scrubbed his weary face. “They told me I’d start the Apocalypse.”
A nasty little word, Apocalypse. William paused. “They what now?”
“You heard me.” His hand fell to the collar of his shirt and he jerked at the material. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.”
“You’re Disaster, so it makes sense, but there’s no way you could—” Every muscle in William’s body suddenly stiffened as a thought occurred to him. “Oh, hell, no. You will not sleep with her, do you hear me?”
Confusion furrowed Kane’s brow. “Sleep with who?”
He didn’t need this. “Why did you have the hags send you here, to me?” Each word was more clipped than the last.
“Because I hear you’re tight with Lucifer or something. That you created the Four Horsemen. And since those horsemen play a huge role in the end of the world, I just assumed—what? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?”
This was bad. Bad, bad, bad. If the Fates had told Kane he’d start the Apocalypse, then he’d start the Apocalypse. But the fact that Kane had then thought to visit William…that meant the Apocalypse might start sooner than anyone realized. “I am not tight with Lucifer. Would a homie have torn my arm from its socket when I paid a visit to his little underground spa? Huh, huh? No!”
“No, but a brother might. Sibling rivalry, and all that.”
“He’s not my brother!” The lie slipped out easily, automatically, just as it had slipped out for most of his existence. But this was a Lord of the Underworld. Like he had room to judge. “Fine. He’s my brother.” And oh, did the admission grate. Sibling rivalry did not begin to explain the hatred between them. “What of it?”
Okay, wait a sec. He’d just realized something. The Harpies were descendants of Lucifer. Lucifer was his brother. Therefore William’s little crush on Kaia was—
Fucking gross! The words blasted through him, and he shuddered. Kaia was just going to have to live without the bliss of this touch.
Damn it! His brother ruined all his fun.
An overhead lightbulb shorted out, golden sparks spraying around Kane. He paid them no heed. “Nothing. I’m just curious. Are the horsemen good or bad? On our side or someone else’s?”
“Don’t know.” Except that he did.
“Fine. Let’s try this another way. You mentioned something about a woman…about me sleeping with her…”
No reaction. “So?”
“So who am I not supposed to sleep with, oh, Prince of Darkness?”
Yep. Sooner than anyone realized. “The only female horseman,” he grumbled, something constricting in his chest. “Or horsewoman. Whatever. They don’t really concern themselves with gender down there.”
“Okay, I’m confused
.”
William stalked to the one clean recliner in the room and plopped down. How much of a pussy would he be if he put his head between his legs? Then again, he’d be an even bigger pussy if he hyperventilated. “Here it is, flat out. Lucifer and I have different mothers, but we share the same father. Hades.”
“Wait. I thought Hades and Lucifer were brothers.”
“So do a lot of people, because the pair of them are so fond of spreading the rumor. But here’s another big surprise—they’re both liars. Anyway, you want to hear the rest or should I let you finish telling me everything you don’t know?”
Kane’s eyes narrowed to slits but he waved a hand through the air.
“I didn’t like living down there.” Understatement. It had been hell. Ha. William had just made a funny. “I found a way to purge some of the darkness from inside me, and thus the Four Horsemen were created.”
“How do I not know this? My demon lived down there, too.”
“Hello, Disaster existed on Lucifer’s side. We had a little trouble sharing and had to divide the space into different realms. Luci took the fire and the demons, blah, blah, blah and I took purgatory and the souls. Although, his minions would sneak in and steal from me, but I’ve forgiven him for that.” Forgiveness in the form of a curse, he thought with a grin. One Luci would never be able to break.
“What does this have to do with me?” Kane asked.
“I’m getting to that.” What to tell, what to tell. Hades had chosen to shack up on Lucifer’s side. Apparently he viewed William as an embarrassment who lacked a truly “evil” soul.
First, rubbish. No one was more evil than William. Look at what he’d done to these humans. And he wasn’t sorry! Second, there was nothing wrong with wanting to break from family tradition and be your own person.
You’re digressing. When the Greeks had taken over the heavens, they’d imprisoned the Titans, and Hades, who had helped Zeus claim the throne, was deemed uncontrollable and imprisoned, too. William had used the heavenly distraction to his advantage and finally made his escape.
Not wanting to war for the underworld throne, wanting it all for himself, Lucifer had helped him.
William had spent many glorious centuries after that screwing anything that moved. Even Hera, Zeus’s beloved queen. Of course, Zeus ultimately caught him with his pants down, and before he could jump out a heavenly window, William had found himself cursed and locked in yet another prison.
Now he was free, and he could flash to and from different locations once again. Life was sweet!
“William?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You were about to tell me how this has anything to do with me.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Damn it, tell me why you think I’m going to sleep with one of your freaking offspring,” Kane demanded with a shudder. “’Cause that’s just gross. I’m already vomiting in my mouth.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and glared. Deep breath in. “For you to start the Apocalypse, you’d have to help free a horseman. And the only reason I can think of for you to help set one of those bastards free is because you’d fallen in love. You’re not into men, so that leaves my girl. And the only reason you’d fall in love with her was because you’d slept with her.” Deep breath out.
Kane snorted. “What, her girl parts are laced with crack?”
“Basically, yes,” he said, deadpan.
At last Kane lost his air of disbelief. “Forewarned is forearmed. I won’t visit hell. So, problem solved.”
“I like where your head’s at, even if it’s in Stupid World.”
“Hey—”
“Listen. The Fates are not kind. They didn’t drop you here out of the goodness of their hearts. They don’t have hearts. They saw you begin the Apocalypse, and so they started arranging the dominos in a line. You will now face temptation on every corner and somehow, someway, they will get you into hell.”
Before Kane could form a reply, something busted through the window, shattering the glass, rolling between them. They looked at it, then at each other. A grenade.
“Oh, shit,” William said, jumping to his feet.
“Fire in the hole,” Kane shouted, reaching for him.
They were too late. Boom!
Fire licked over him—and about a thousand shards of wood and rock—as intense air pressure sent him flying. Up, up he flew. Down, down he fell. When he landed, he landed on his head, cracking his skull. Kane smashed on top of him, crushing him. The warrior didn’t get back up.
Damned Disaster. William knew exactly where to lay the blame for this.
“You…okay…man?” He managed to work the question out of his raw throat.
Something hard slammed into his temple, and darkness swallowed him in one tasty bite. He knew nothing more.
WILLIAM…FLOATED. A second after the thought formed, something cold and hard pressed against his razored back. Wheels began squeaking, little bumps up and down shooting fire through him, and he realized he’d been laid flat on a gurney, someone carting him away. Do not groan. Do not cringe.
“This one looks dead,” a masculine voice said. It was unfamiliar. Fiftyish. With the raspy quality of a smoker.
“No, sir. Not yet.” Another male, this one young, probably early twenties. “But if you think he’s bad, you should see the other one. The demon.”
“Now that just won’t do. I need them both alive.”
“But, sir—”
“Do not question me, son. Do whatever it takes, but keep both these creatures alive.”
A pause, an audible gulp. “This one isn’t a demon, though. We should—”
“I don’t care what the hell he is. He was with the other one inside that bloodbath. He deserves what he gets.”
No pause this time. “Yes, sir. I agree, sir.”
The gurney hit another bump, a bigger bump, knocking William’s head a second time. Just as before, there was no stopping the darkness.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The slow, rhythmic beep blended with the sound of rushing footsteps and frantic breaths. William blinked open his eyes, and gods, that hurt. It was like he had splinters under his lids and each of those sharp little pieces of wood had scraped at his corneas. When he was finally able to focus, he frowned.
A thick layer of film coated the room and everyone in it. People were rushing all around him, but he couldn’t make out their features.
“We’re losing him!” someone—a female—shouted.
“His demon—”
“I know! I’m doing my best, but that may not be good enough.”
They were talking about Kane. About losing… William tried to raise his arms. He would help save the warrior. Only his wrists were bound to his bed, and he didn’t have the strength to break free.
What the hell?
“Doctor, this one’s waking up.”
“Damn it, I’m not ready to deal with him. Give him another ten cc’s. He’ll keep until I get this one out of the danger zone.”
Something sharp jabbed at his shoulder, and his mind suddenly spun out of control.
“—ALL RIGHT, BIG BOY?”
William fought his way out of the darkness and immediately regretted it. The pain! He ached all over. His skin felt charred, his bones as smooth as pudding and just as soft.
“That’s the way. Just a little more.”
His lashes parted. For a moment, the world spun. But soon, everything righted itself and he found his gaze settling on a pretty female. Fatigue had drawn her delicate features taut. She wore a white lab coat and had a stethoscope anchored around the back of her neck. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a pair of wire rims sat on her nose.
“You’re probably wondering who I am and why you’re here.”
That would be a big, fat affirmative, though he could guess the answer. The Hunters had made their next move. He remembered hearing the hate in the voices of “sir” and company when they’d discus
sed the demons.
William’s gaze moved to his bound wrists, his bound ankles. They hadn’t trusted sturdy rope, but had used thick, heavy chains. Next he took stock of his injuries, and he realized only a miracle was keeping him in one piece. He felt like a box full of tattered Christmas ribbons, his flesh so ripped he could see the equally ripped muscle underneath.
“Well?” the woman prompted.
“Don’t care.” He had to unlock his jaw to speak, causing his temples to throb. “The man…” No other words would form, his throat simply too raw.
“He’s alive,” she answered, knowing what he desired.
Thank gods. Relief speared him. He could deal with anything else she said.
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but you have a right to know. Your friend…he’s currently being transported to the deepest pits of hell.”
Except that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KAIA HAD KNOWN STRIDER possessed a brutal streak, and she’d thought she liked that about him. Now, she was pretty sure that streak was going to get him killed. Because she was freaking going to murder him! Painfully. After she drank him dry, that is.
His “big plans” for her? More blood-drinking. Or so she assumed. An entire day had passed since she’d woken from her nap, but that was all he’d let her do.
Of course, she had to ensure he regretted his choice. Had to show him the consequences of teasing her into thinking they’d kiss and touch and, well, make sweet, dirty love until their hearts exploded from the strain.
She didn’t need more blood. Earlier her bones had snapped back into place and her cuts had woven back together. She was completely healed, utterly capable of a little ravishing, but every hour on the hour he would cut his wrist and hold the wound over her mouth. Even now, she was suckling, swallowing a delicious mouthful of his rich, warm blood now spiced with the sweetness of cinnamon.
The warmth spread, as it had every time he’d fed her like this, tickling her nerve endings, reminding her of what they weren’t doing.
“Just a little more,” he said, his voice all kinds of husky. His forearm flexed beneath her grip.
Her eyes closed as she savored his decadent flavor, her murderous thoughts fading. Would she ever get enough of him? No, never, she decided a second later. He’d well and truly addicted her. Not just to his kisses, as she’d already realized, and not just to his blood, but to his presence. His wicked smile, his warped sense of humor.
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