The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld Book 8)

by Gena Showalter

  I wish I were. Through death or some other means, the scroll said they were our only way out of here.

  She gulped a mouthful of what felt like sand. “And what do you mean by ‘some other means’? We’re supposed to ride them to safety?”

  To her surprise, Amun chuckled softly. I have no idea. The scroll told me nothing else. But I do know the Horsemen are in some way related to William, and—

  “William?”

  You haven’t met him. He’s immortal, a god of some sort, I think, and on our side.

  “Our” side. As if they were partners rather than enemies. As if he trusted her completely. As if he no longer saw her as a Hunter responsible for his friend’s murder, but as a woman worthy of him. Inside she glowed, tendrils of his warmth traipsing through her.

  “So, if the Horsemen are related to this William person, who’s on our side—” she stressed the word “—the Horsemen should be on our side, as well?”

  We can hope.

  For some reason, that wasn’t promising.

  A shriek sounded at her left, and she stopped to wheel in that direction.

  Easy, Amun instructed, stilling beside her. Someone’s playing a game, that’s all.

  That was all? The beings here weren’t playing with darts, balloons or plastic balls—and the prizes weren’t stuffed animals. Severed heads were being tossed at boiling tubs of oil, and though the heads were bodiless, their mouths still managed to scream in pain when splashed with the oil, skin melting away.

  The little boy who’d just won jumped up and down, clapping, his hoofed feet clomping hard into the ground and spraying dirt in every direction. The proprietor handed him a beautiful golden bird trying desperately to escape the string around its neck, wings flapping erratically, glitter raining from them like fairy dust.

  The loveliness of the bird was surprising, considering the ugliness of everything else down here.

  The little boy gently held the bird in both hands, muttering soothing words. Those golden wings gradually stopped flapping. Of course, that’s when the boy shoved the tiny creature into his mouth and bit off the head.

  Haidee gagged and quickly looked away—right at a group of men who’d locked their sights on her and Amun. Those men were striding toward them, closing the distance. Damn it. She never should have paused to watch the games.

  “Amun,” she whispered fiercely.

  I see them. He released her, gearing for a fight they both knew would happen. If I tell you to run, you run and hide and don’t return. Understand?

  As if. But rather than tell him she planned to stay and help, possibly distracting him, she remained silent and palmed two blades in each hand. The men were almost upon them…they were big, bigger than Amun, with paper-thin skin that draped loosely over pitted bone, their eyes merely sunken holes of black…and still they drew ever closer…

  Just as he’d done with the ticket handler, Amun stiffened. And not in preparation for battle.

  “Can you read their minds?” she asked.

  Yes.

  He said no more, but then, he didn’t have to. The men intended to do something vile. To her, she was sure.

  “Six against two. Let’s see if we can even out those odds.” Haidee threw two of her weapons. The first hit the biggest of the men in the jugular, and he instantly toppled. The second hit the man next to him right in the eye socket. He screamed as he fell.

  The other four paid their fallen comrades no heed, continuing forward.

  Run, Amun commanded her.

  She didn’t.

  Haidee! Now!

  Okay. She had to tell him. “I’m not letting you fly solo on this. I’m here. I’ll help.”

  He growled.

  The men reached them and formed a circle around them, effectively surrounding them with a wall of muscle and menace. Wouldn’t have been so bad, except the two men she’d felled suddenly rose, jerked the weapons from their bodies and took their places in the circle, far angrier than they’d been before.

  Oh…shit. They couldn’t be killed. Dread slithered through her, choking her.

  “We want the girl,” one of them said, and all of them gave her a once-over, lingering on her breasts, between her legs, mentally stripping her and making her shudder in revulsion.

  “Well, news flash. You can’t have me,” she snapped. She would rather die. Again.

  “Wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” The shithead’s gaze never left Amun. “Give her to us, and you can go on your way. Alive.”

  He’ll pay for disrespecting you, I swear it, Amun told her, and he sounded so calm he could have been discussing his favorite type of doughnut. But first, since you refused to obey me, and yes, we will be discussing that, ask him if he’s seen the Horsemen.

  That, she obeyed. And as her words echoed between them, an almost visible wave of fear swept over the men. They began to tremble, their skin taking on a grayish cast. The Horsemen were so depraved they frightened even psychos, huh? Awesome. Then the fear turned to anger, and the men scowled at Amun with more fury than before, as if they blamed him for what they’d felt.

  “Forget those that shall not be named and tell us what you want for her,” one of the men said.

  Those that shall not be named?

  A muscle ticked below Amun’s eye as he took each guy’s measure.

  “Can’t you talk, demon?” another growled. “We want the woman. Now.”

  So they recognized what he was, but they weren’t scared of him as they evidently were of the Horsemen. If that was the case, though, why didn’t they simply attack him?

  “You can have her back when we’re done,” still another said.

  They laughed in eerie unison.

  “’Course, she’ll be in pieces, and we’ll probably keep the good ones, but you can have what’s left.”

  Run, Haidee, Amun repeated into her mind. And this time, do it. He didn’t wait to see if she had—she hadn’t—but launched himself at the men. He moved so quickly, she registered only the blur of his slashing hands and glistening blades.

  The men converged on him with the same eerie unison in which they’d laughed, kicking at him, swinging their arms like clubs. She couldn’t throw herself into the fray because there was no way to tell which body parts belonged to Amun and which to the shitheads. Their positions changed too swiftly.

  Blood sprayed, some red, some black. Grunts and groans resounded. Then Amun landed at her feet, wheezing, his face already sliced to ribbons. The men were on him an instant later, their momentum shoving her backward.

  She righted herself, that image of Amun filling her with a rage so potent, her blood began to thicken with ice. No one hurt her man. No one. Mist formed a cloud in front of her nose each time she exhaled. She knew anyone who looked at her would see actual crystals glinting in her hair, on her skin. This strong a reaction hadn’t happened in so long, she’d almost forgotten she was capable of it.

  Hate filled her, joining the ice. So much hate. She hated these men, hated what they’d planned. Hated that they lived.

  She couldn’t allow them to live.

  Amun managed to throw the bundle of bodies off him and jump to his feet. His weapons had been ripped from his grip, so he used his fists now, pummeling with all his might. But every time he cracked one of those fatheads to the side, breaking the spinal cord, the men would shake off the blow and attack with new fervor. Then one of them realized Haidee was alone, seemingly unprotected and disengaged.

  His grin was evil.

  Hers was worse. “Come here,” she said with such calm even she was surprised.

  Those black eyes narrowed, a forked tongue swiping over too-thin lips. Though he was obviously suspicious about her sudden eagerness, the man complied, moving closer.

  He pushed her down the moment he reached her, throwing himself on top of her, trying to rip off her jeans. Haidee let him, helped him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips into his.

  His tongue thrust out, hard, attempting
to pry her teeth apart. He needn’t have bothered. She opened willingly, blowing the ice of her breath, the very hate of her soul, straight into his mouth. He convulsed. In shock, perhaps, or maybe in fear. Or even pain. She wanted him to feel pain. Then he stilled, unable to move, literally frozen, but that wasn’t enough. He hadn’t suffered enough.

  She shoved him off of her and stood, distantly noting the blue pallor of his skin, the unmoving features, the stiffness of his body. More. She needed more. More ice, more hate, more death. These men deserved to die. Her mind locked on that thought—deserved, deserved, deserved—and glided to the heap of struggling bodies, brushing her fingers over one, then the other. They, too, froze in place, their skin hardening as the ice flowed over them.

  More. Deserved. The remaining three offenders noticed the condition of their friends and leapt away from Amun, watching her through horror-filled eyes.

  “What—what’d you do?”

  “What are you?”

  “Don’t come any closer!”

  Amun pushed to his feet, stepping away from her, as well. His expression was unreadable.

  More. Deserved. She walked toward the men, and they scampered backward, tripping over their own feet, falling. More. Deserved.

  Haidee.

  “Come,” she said. “Taste me.”

  Haidee.

  Amun’s voice pushed through some of the ice, but not the hate. She hated these men, knew they had to die by her hand. She reached out. One touch, just a single touch, and she would have what she wanted. Their destruction. Everyone’s destruction. Yes, everyone’s. She had only to finish with these two, and she could move on, destroy everyone.

  They crab-crawled backward, desperate to escape her. One of them wasn’t fast enough, and she managed to latch onto his ankle. She grinned. He seemed to turn into stone right before her eyes. More. Deserved.

  Haidee, sweetheart. Look at me.

  Sweetheart. She liked when Amun called her sweetheart. He made her feel special. A little more of the ice inside her melted. Until she realized her final target was only a few steps away. More. Deserved. Destruction within her reach.

  Haidee, sweetheart. Look at me. Please.

  Again the ice melted, and this time Amun’s plea reached even her hatred, muting the coldest threads. Slowly she turned to face him. “What do you want?” The frosty rage in her voice stunned her. Upset her. It shouldn’t be directed at Amun.

  The last man is gone, sweetheart. You can come back to me now.

  Come back to him? What did he mean by that? She was right here, right in front of him. Frowning, she stepped toward him. She would shake him, make him realize.

  Like the enemy had done, he backed away. Sweetheart. Your eyes are pure white, and even being near you is painful to me. I need you to come back to me.

  Sweetheart again. More of the ice melted, and the hate muted yet another degree, then another, until the emotion was at a low simmer. She hurt him? She didn’t want to hurt Amun. Ever. She just wanted to love…him.

  Her knees almost gave out. Love? Did she love him?

  As the question echoed through her mind, she swayed, a wave of dizziness sweeping her. Just before she hit the ground, strong arms banded around her and kept her upright.

  There you are, sweetheart. I knew you’d come back to me. Amun held her tightly to his side, and to her relief, he didn’t freeze. In fact, his heat wrapped around her, melting the rest of the ice.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Don’t be sorry. You saved our asses. Now come on. We need to get out of here before reinforcements show up.

  “Ye seek the Horsemen, do ye? Don’t deny. I heard,” a small voice suddenly said behind them. “Come, come. I show ye.”

  Amun turned them both, and when she focused she saw a tiny female with the lower half of a bull and the top half of a human. Small hands waved them forward.

  “This be fun,” the female said with a shady giggle. “Come, come, I show ye.” She darted away before they could reply.

  We’re going to go with her. We don’t have any other choice.

  “Yes, we do. We can choose not to go with her.” With Haidee’s luck, the creature would lead them into a nest of vipers, piranha and rape-minded giants. Oh, wait. Been there, done that. What came next would probably be worse.

  My demon went silent the moment you— He stopped himself. The moment she’d…what? Become consumed by the cold? My demon is still silent, which means I can’t figure out where the Horsemen are located. That little female is our only shot. Just don’t let anything happen to me, okay? Amun said with what seemed to be…humor?

  No, surely not. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him joke with her before. And really, not many men could tease their woman about being stronger than they were. “I, uh, won’t.”

  Thank you. The semblance of a smile curled the corners of his lips as he ushered her forward, quickly closing the distance to reach Bull Girl. The almost-grin stunned her more than his teasing. He was just so beautiful, and as amused as he clearly was, he was also distracting.

  Love, she thought again.

  She couldn’t love him. She was careful, always careful, to guard her heart. Yes, she lusted for Amun, cared for him, wanted him safe and happy. That didn’t mean she loved him, though. Love weakened, made you vulnerable. Especially love that wasn’t returned.

  “Here, here,” the now-bouncing creature said. She stopped in front of the biggest tent in the area, laughter and smoke drifting from the seams in the front flap. “They be here. This be fun.”

  Only then did Haidee recall the old woman’s earlier warning. Death. Pain. Screaming.

  Soon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THEY WERE SMOKING CIGARS and playing poker.

  Amun had never seen the four horsemen of the Apocalypse before, but despite the crowd of demons hovering around them, he recognized them instantly. They sat around a table comprised of barbed wire, enveloped in a tobacco-scented haze. Three males, one female, and all four were physically perfect beings. Even more so than Zacharel. Or William.

  He studied them. Friend or foe? The female had flaxen hair that waved to her waist, iridescent sparkles woven through the strands, and eyes of the deepest purple. The males were a colorful mix, one raven-haired, one sandy-locked, and one completely bald, his scalp tanned to a golden glow.

  They wore clothes very similar to Amun’s. Black shirts, black pants. They were relaxed, laughing seductively as they revealed their cards, then ribbing the losers unmercifully. What gave them away was the color of their auras. Amun had never noticed anyone’s aura before, but these were undeniable. The shades enveloped them like a second skin, the female’s white, one of the males’ red, one black and one a pale green.

  The Rainbow Brigade, he thought.

  Haidee stepped to his side and was given her first full look at them. She gasped.

  Amun’s jaw clenched—me, only want me—but the sound prodded Secrets from his hiding place as effectively as her coldness had driven him there earlier. While Amun had battled the six men who’d wanted to “borrow” her, she’d turned into ice walking. Her hair had morphed into icicles, her skin had looked like crystal and her eyes…her eyes had lost all hint of color.

  He’d been riveted by the beauty of her, queen of the winter storm, and awed by the strength of her. His demon had been terrified, retreating as deep into his mind as possible. The others had felt the pull of her again, even though she hadn’t touched Amun. They’d fought, screamed. Yeah, they’d done that before, but never that quickly or that determinedly.

  He just didn’t know what to do about it.

  Whatever kept Haidee from dying eternally, whatever brought her back to life again and again, had to be responsible for her change. No mere human could do that. What that made her, what that was, though, he still didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure Secrets had the balls to try and find out. Still. They were going to have to merge with he
r mind again.

  Amun had to know the truth. And maybe, with the answer, he could find a way to save her from the torture of being reanimated. Of course, that meant she would die permanently one day, and he couldn’t even contemplate that without sickening.

  She was his.

  And he was going to have her. All of her. Yes, the cold he felt while they pleasured each other could hurt him. He realized that now. But he wasn’t going to let something as minor as freezing to death stop him from being with her.

  He’d already lost the war with his resolve to stay away from her. While they were down here, at least. Up there, they would part, and that knowledge only increased his urgency to have her. Tonight. Tonight, he wiped her former boyfriend from her mind and claimed every inch of her.

  At least Secrets wasn’t whimpering, or the others screaming, because she stood at his side. That was a start. Secrets was too focused on the Horsemen and their thoughts—or rather, what consisted of their thoughts—enjoying the puzzle of them. There was a strange buzzing noise inside White’s head, shrieks inside Red’s, moans inside Black’s and utter silence inside Green’s.

  “She the one who iced the congo?” Red asked no one in particular. A cigar hung from the side of his mouth.

  The crowd finally noticed Amun and Haidee. Some snarled and flashed their teeth, some licked their lips in glee, but all left the tent as if their feet were on fire. Only the Horsemen remained.

  The congo. The men who’d thought to beat him to pulp, allowing them to rape and dismember Haidee without interference? Most likely. Guys had been as big as apes, with a mind-set to match, so the name fit.

  “I believe I asked you a question, warrior.” Red tossed the cards atop the tabletop and turned, eyes of the cruelest blue leveling on Amun. The shrieks inside the being’s head increased in volume. Secrets burrowed through them, still seeking thoughts and intentions. “I’ll hear your answer now.”

  “Yes,” Haidee said, answering for him. She sounded confident, unafraid. But for once, Amun could feel the emotions pouring off her. His brave girl was terrified but determined. “I did. I iced them.”