Hold Me If You Can

by Stephanie Rowe

  Christian’s blade plunged toward his heart, and still Nigel didn’t move. Natalie’s fingers dug into his back, but she didn’t interfere. Come on, Christian. Find your place again, big guy. You can do it.

  The tip of his sword pierced Nigel’s chest, then Christian stopped, watching the small drips of blood trickle down Nigel’s chest. He frowned at the sword and then at Nigel. He looked confused and shocked.

  “You’re good,” Nigel said quietly. “You’re good, big guy.”

  Christian slowly lowered the sword and Natalie’s sigh of relief was so powerful that Nigel felt it in his soul.

  “I’m toast,” Christian said.

  “No.” Nigel strode forward and slammed his hand down on his shoulder. “We’re out of the Den. We’re free. We’re in control now. You’ll shake the residual aspects of whatever they did to you.”

  Christian raised his gaze to Nigel. “We’re not in control, Nigel. Not any of us. They’re still ruling us. For hell’s sake, I was ready to kill you.” He wiped his forearm over his brow, and it came away streaked with sweat. “That wasn’t me.”

  “I know.” Nigel flexed his hands and noticed the grayish tint was spreading over Natalie’s skin. The smut was hitting harder. “It ends now for all of us.”

  Christian looked past him at the opening in the cave. “I’m not going to go in and get taken,” he said quietly. “If I get caught, kill me.”

  “Kill you?” Nigel shook his head. “I won’t leave you behind—”

  “Not good enough.” Christian shoved off him and began to walk back toward the street. He didn’t look back. Didn’t hesitate. He was leaving.

  What in God’s name could have happened to Christian to make him walk away from battle? From a chance to rescue his friends? To ask for death instead of torture?

  “Give him death,” Natalie said, moving up beside him as she tucked her hand around his arm. “Give it to him.”

  “No chance.” Nigel shook his head. “I won’t kill him—”

  She squeezed his forearm, her touch gentle and reassuring. A moment of beauty and gentleness in the whirling inferno of hell brewing around him. He took her hand and held it tight. “You won’t leave him behind, either, but he doesn’t believe you. He knows it’s possible you won’t get out. But he knows you’ll be able to kill him, even if you guys get trapped there. Give him that relief. Tell him you’ll kill him.”

  Shit. She was right. Christian honestly didn’t trust that Nigel wouldn’t leave him behind. Where was the faith? His heart twisted for the damage that had been done to his friend. Somehow, Angelica had stolen his heart. “I will kill you,” he said quietly.

  Christian didn’t say a word. He just swung around and strode straight into the cave. He didn’t look back. Didn’t wait. Just walked into hell. All it had taken was one word from Nigel, and Christian had trusted it. So, that was something at least. Maybe Christian couldn’t trust him to pull him out, but he trusted him to kill him.

  That was a good sign.

  Nigel pulled out some blades of his own and kissed Natalie lightly. “Let’s do it, sweetheart.” He didn’t miss the look of apprehension as Natalie followed him inside, and he sure as hell didn’t miss the first hint of fear he’d ever experienced in his own soul. Not fear of getting caught, like Christian. A fear that he would let everyone down. A fear that he would let Natalie get hurt.

  He’d already endangered Pascal and Blaine. He had betrayed his parents before that, when he was a kid. What if he blew it with the rest of them? What if Christian was right that he should be killed before they could take the rest of them down? He looked down at the blades in his hands, searched his mind, and found no answers. He might not need to draw right now, but he was unfocused and tense. If he had drawn, he could have settled his mind and gotten into battle mode. But he hadn’t, so he was scattered and on edge.

  Now was not the time to be less than his best.

  But now was the only chance they had.

  ***

  It was third time Nigel had been back to the Den since the escape, and the prospect wasn’t any rosier this time. Even having Natalie beside him couldn’t penetrate the shadows and doom weighing down on them.

  Nigel tightened his grip on Natalie’s elbow as they strode into the Cavern of Murderous Poltergeists. The sky grew cloudy, and the air became thick and acrid, burning his throat.

  Natalie coughed, and Nigel pulled her against him and covered her face in the crook of his elbow. “Breathe through the jacket,” he ordered.

  She nodded and buried her face against him. She didn’t complain, didn’t hesitate, didn’t pull back. He knew she was scared, but she was stepping up. For herself, for him, for his friends, for Maggie. She might not be a trained warrior, but she was one in her heart. He held her closer and fisted the dagger in his free hand. “We’re going to make it,” he told her.

  “I know.” Her voice was shaky, but her words were strong. “I can’t miss my appointment with the Michelin-O team. They get cranky when you try to reschedule.”

  He chuckled at her comment. “Yeah, well, we can’t have them getting cranky on us. Guess we better survive, eh?”

  “Definitely.”

  Christian led the way across the graveyard, carefully watching as the smoke drifted and the ghouls began to circle. The spirits were a dark gray and black, and weapons glinted in their hands.

  “They’ve upgraded since we were here last,” Nigel commented. “Don’t remember them being armed.”

  “No one’s been around to feed them,” Christian said. “You know how they liked Angelica’s cookies. Mari probably ignores them, so they’re going through sugar-detox.”

  A banshee let out a high-pitched scream, but Nigel didn’t even bother to glance that way. He was focusing on the swirl of energies around them. Right now everything was cold and heavy, which meant the dead hadn’t started to go corporeal yet, so they couldn’t hurt their uninvited guests. Once the temperature of the cavern began to rise, that’s when things would get dicey.

  A serpent-headed wolf dove at him teeth bared, but he went right through Nigel and crashed through the wall behind him. Natalie yelped and grabbed her chest. “Oh, God. That was weird.”

  Nigel frowned at her. “You felt that?”

  “Yeah. It was like someone knifed me with an icicle.” She eyed him, her face suddenly wary. “You didn’t feel it pass through us?”

  “No.” He exchanged looks with Christian. “It was of demon blood.”

  “Oh.” Natalie’s face paled and she managed a rueful smile. “A cousin of mine? I should have invited her to dinner.”

  “Probably good old Aunt Edna.” Nigel squeezed her shoulder as they neared the portal where Mari had been standing. Natalie was running of time. He could feel the taint in her energy. Shit.

  Christian shimmered, and then he went into full chain-link mode. From flesh to chain mail in a heartbeat. The fact he was suiting up before even setting foot in the Den said exactly how much Christian respected the place they were entering.

  Nigel walked up beside Christian, keeping Natalie between them. The portal was pulsing black light. “It’s open.”

  Christian nodded. “The spirits make it hard to keep it closed. I heard Angelica talk about that before. That why she fed them, to keep their loyalty.”

  Natalie looked up above them at the murderous spirits circling. “They’re not guarding it now.”

  “No.” Nigel didn’t like that fact. “I don’t know what they’re waiting for.”

  “Maybe they think we’re sexy and they’re hoping for a prom date.” Christian pulled a sword out his arm and readied it. “Ready?”

  Or maybe Mari had specifically bribed the spirits to allow them entrance into the Den. He saw the grim look on Christian’s face and knew his teammate was thinking the same thing. “They’re waiting for us,” Christian said quietly.

  “I know.” Of course they would be. Mari had two of their men. It was automatic that those remaining w
ould go in after them.

  “You know she’s expecting us?” Natalie stopped. “And we’re still going in?”

  “You bet. She might be ready for us, but we’re ready as well.” Nigel’s palms began to smoke. He tested his mind, felt it was still clear. He was going into battle, and he was focused, with no need to draw, which he usually liked to do before heading into war. Having Natalie beside him was helping, not because of her Mystic power, but because she made him happy. Shit. That sounded weird. Happy wasn’t something he’d spent a lot of time thinking about, and he didn’t have time to start now. So he nodded at the portal. “We’re on.”

  Christian squared his shoulders, and his skin was shimmering. “Nigel.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t forget our deal.”

  Nigel swore. “Yeah, I’ll kill you.”

  Christian nodded, and then he stepped up—

  “No.” Nigel moved forward. “I take the first hit.”

  This was his fault, and Mari clearly knew they’d be coming in. Whatever she had waiting for him, he would be the one to take it.

  He readied his blades, made sure Natalie was safely behind him, then strode through the darkness into the hell that was waiting for him.

  ***

  Inside the entrance to the Den was silence.

  Blackness.

  Utter stillness.

  Nigel waited as he heard Christian and Natalie step through the portal behind him. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

  He searched the night, searched the blackness, used every sense he had, but it was as if he’d been stripped of all his senses. As if he’d stepped into a void.

  “What is it?” Christian asked.

  “I don’t know.” Nigel called for a blade, and he heated it up, like a blacksmith would do in a forger. The glowing orange tip that he usually used for cauterizing injuries cast an amber light over the interior of the tunnel. And over the body of one of the warriors that Nigel knew all too well from his days in the Den. Max Bruta. Another young one, like Pascal, irreverent and a brutal badass. He’d come the closest to hurting Angelica before she’d cut him down. He was an angry son of a bitch, and that was what had kept him alive.

  He was too damn mad to die.

  “Max!” Nigel strode across the stainless steel floor and crouched beside the warrior.

  Max was splayed on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Eyes sunken, face empty, his sword lying across his gut. He didn’t even look at Nigel, but Nigel sensed life still present in him.

  “Hey, Max.” Nigel put his hand on his chest and found that his heart was still beating. Slowly. But… “Son of a bitch. His soul is gone.”

  Christian hadn’t moved from the doorway, his metal skin glistening in the glow of the light from Nigel’s weapon. “What do you mean?”

  “His soul.” Nigel searched the body, but there was nothing there. Just an emptiness. A blank. “It’s been stripped. There’s nothing left but an empty body.”

  Natalie was beside Christian, her hand over her chest. “He’s a vampire?”

  “No. He’s just done.” Nigel rose to his feet. “Mari killed his spirit and left his body to rot.”

  Christian swore. “She’s stealing our will to live.” He ran his hand through his hair, a telling gesture he made only when under extreme stress.

  “Looks that way.” Nigel exchanged grim looks with Christian. So many times, the only thing that had kept them alive was their will to live, their fight, the soul that beat at them to stay alive. The spirit was the essence of life, something they all had been able to cling to no matter what else she’d done to them.

  And now Mari was stealing that? Screw that. It crossed a line that was beyond acceptability, even in war. “We need to get to Pascal and Blaine. Now!” They were going in now. No more were going to die.

  He grabbed Natalie’s hand and sprinted down the tunnel, Christian on his heels.

  The battle had begun.

  Chapter 16

  Pascal narrowed his eyes as Smutty headed toward him. The dream genie’s shiny new loafers were nearly silent on the hardwood floors of the plush suite. Pascal had felt bad for the guy when he’d been Angelica’s smut monster and had been condemned to a life of running around as an oversized puppy dog.

  But stealing another man’s soul?

  The way he figured it, that was even worse than kicking another man in the nuts. Smutty had to go down.

  “Oh, come on, Pascal.” Mari patted his arm, and Pascal let his gaze drift toward his captor. “Have I hurt you yet? Have I tortured you at all?”

  He didn’t bother to mention the two-inch-deep burns on his arms from the stainless steel chains that were currently locking him down to the steel chair that had brought him from the bowels of the dungeons to Smutty’s lab of demented activities.

  Much as he’d enjoyed his path toward becoming a manly man in the Den, now that he’d been out, he was proud to admit that he now preferred Francesca’s organic pizza and apple beer over being chained down. Go figure.

  Mari, apparently, was able to read his mind. “Well, I wouldn’t have to chain you if you’d trust me,” Mari said defensively, as she knelt in front of him, forcing herself into his line of vision. “Listen to me, Pascal. You’ve got all this pain and anger inside you, all these thoughts of revenge and punishment. I know it’s awful. I don’t want you to suffer like that, so I want to help you. You’ll never be able to find peace in your heart while all this horrible stuff is running around in there. I’m going to give you peace.”

  “Actually,” he said, “I’m generally a pretty chipper guy. The only time I get cranky is when I’m here. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

  “Chipper is completely inadequate.” Smutty pulled up a bar stool and perched on the edge of it. “We’re talking about total salvation of the soul.”

  “Sounds too dull for me.” Pascal scanned the room, searching for options. He knew he would get one chance to make a break, and he had to make sure he accounted for everything. “My soul likes being a little tarnished, and the girls seem to appreciate it.” He saw Danielle stifle a smile, and he winked at her.

  The woman might be working for Mari, but she’d slipped him some peace when she’d tried to protect him from the metal chains, and he was down with that.

  Mari smiled sadly. “Sweetheart, you say that only because you don’t really understand what real peace is. I’ll help you. You’ll see.”

  Pascal sighed. The woman was going to be stubborn and shortsighted, wasn’t she? Apparently, once again, it was up to him to manifest his own destiny. He ran his fingers over the palms of his hands, and felt the tips of spines poking out from under the skin. Come on, baby. Mari had no clue that Nigel had healed Pascal before she’d snatched him. He wasn’t back to full potency, but he was pretty damn close. A lot closer than she would be prepared for.

  He had one shot.

  And he was going to take it.

  He wanted to get back to his pizza.

  “Oh, come on, Pascal,” Mari said. “It’s not that bad—”

  “It is!” That little chit, Danielle, who he’d never seen before today, shoved her way past the two psychotic beasts and stood in front of him. Blocking his access to the bad guys. “This is wrong. You’re worse than Angelica. Stealing their inner souls. It’s wrong!”

  Well, he had to admit that he found her gumption somewhat endearing. It was clear she absolutely meant what she said. He liked that. And quite frankly, it was damned cute that the little thing was trying to protect him. Hello? Who was the badass warrior in the room? That would be the big guy strapped to the chair.

  Despite his appreciation for her willingness to give Mari grief, her audacious little move had the unfortunate side effect of placing her right between him and the bad guys, which meant that she would be caught in the cross fire once he went to work. He got no bad vibe from her, and he wasn’t really interested in hurting her. Which meant she had to move that c
ute little fanny of hers aside. “Get out of my way,” he said quietly, the command barely a whisper in the air. “Hide.”

  Danielle whirled around, a startled look on her face. Her bright blue gaze met his, and he saw the anguish on her face. He knew then that she was as much a victim as he was. She was trapped like the men in this place. Seemed to him that he was going to have to take her with him when he left, didn’t it?

  Always fair damsels to be rescued. It made a warrior’s life such a challenge.

  “What did you say?” Mari leaned forward, disrupting the vibe Pascal had going on with Danielle. “I’m just giving you love, for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t anyone understand how important love is?”

  Pascal ignored Mari and kept his gaze fixed on Danielle, willing her to understand.

  For a moment, she didn’t move, then she raised her brows and took a step to the side. At his nod, she flashed a brief smile and eased behind the huge wooden wardrobe housing Smutty’s new designer suits. Trusting him.

  Good girl.

  “Pascal is too thick-minded to understand the gift we give him,” Smutty said. “I will take care of it.”

  Pascal turned his focus back to Smutty. He’d seen them carry Max down to the tunnel, and there was no way he was going to allow them to do it to him. He liked his own mind just fine.

  Smutty pulled the chair up and leaned forward, staring intently into Pascal’s eyes.

  Pascal met his gaze, unflinchingly, and he allowed himself to feel the threat. His easygoing relaxation rolled away, and a powerful strength began to build inside him. He drew on the fire Nigel had given him. His skin began to prickle everywhere as spines began to form. Lethal, acid-laced spines. He would have preferred something less hostile, like a whiffle ball, but this wasn’t the moment to tap into his softer side.

  Because, as he’d said, he liked his brain exactly how it was. He bunched his hands and felt the scales beginning to harden.

  His fingernails began to extend, digging into his palms.