The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  He traced his tongue over his teeth and stood, the motion jerky. As he marched to the wet bar and poured himself a drink, he avoided her gaze.

  Hope unfurled. Finally! Something was going her way.

  “What do you want to know about me?” He returned to the chair, his glass half-full. “Why do you want to know?”

  A sense of anticipation and triumph flared, one she tried her best to hide. “Why? I’m a curious creature. What? More than once you and your friends have mentioned the people around you are human, implying you yourselves are not. The white-haired man—”

  “Torin.”

  “Torin even said you are something better. The boogeyman is not better.”

  He continued to hold the glass without drinking. Don’t stare. Shouldn’t appear too eager.

  “I know you’re not a literal monster,” she said. Had she put a tad too much emphasis on the word?

  “So you think we’re...what?” he asked. “Delusional?”

  No reason to lie. “Yes. But what do you think you are?”

  “Immortal.”

  She barked out a laugh. “Like vampires? Werewolves?” The current movie fad.

  “If I were a bloodsucker, you would already be drained. If I were a wolf, you would be chained to my bed and used as a pack whore. A kurva jebat’, you’d call it.”

  There wasn’t an ounce of amusement in his tone, and she sobered, realizing he truly believed what he was saying—believed creatures of the night existed.

  “I’ll tell no one,” she said, raising her right hand. In fiction, otherworldly predators liked to keep their origins a secret, often killing the ones who discovered the truth. “You have my word.”

  “Tell whoever you’d like. You’ll be labeled crazy. Insane.” He shrugged and at long last drained the glass.

  Relief bathed her, cool and sweet. She waited, watching him closely for any sign of sedation, but nothing changed.

  Rule eight: distract when necessary. “Convince me. Tell me about your life.”

  “Again, why should I bother?”

  “Because I’d really love to hear your story?”

  “That’s insufficient enticement.”

  “So...what do you want?”

  His gaze heated. He inhaled sharply, as if he wasn’t pleased with the direction of his thoughts. Or maybe he was a little too pleased. His pants suddenly looked tighter.

  The moisture in her mouth dried. She pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “Just tell me. Pretty please. Please!”

  The plea...actually softened his expression. “For centuries I lived in Mount Olympus, a guard to Zeus. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Everyone has. My friends and I were vastly offended when he gave his greatest treasure, dimOuniak, to a female to guard. You know this treasure as Pandora’s box. To punish Zeus, we stole it, opened it and unleashed the demons trapped inside it.”

  Wait, wait, wait. “Demons?”

  A curt nod. “He decided to punish us and cursed us to host a demon inside our bodies. I was given Distrust, though I was liberated from him the day I was beheaded.”

  She snorted. “Beheaded? And yet, here you are, alive and well.”

  “Alive, yes. Well, no. No one, immortal or human, is merely a body. We have spirits and as you can see, my spirit is still very much intact.”

  “You’re saying you’re a ghost?”

  “In a fashion.” He set his empty glass on the side table, his arm disappointingly steady. “I spent the past four thousand years trapped inside a prison realm. Until a few weeks ago, when I was freed just like the demons in the box.”

  “Demons,” she repeated hollowly. She accepted the supernatural and always had. The world, humans and animals were so amazingly intricate, so perfectly honed, and so clearly of intelligent design, she knew there was a God...and if there was a God, there were guardian angels.

  Her guardian angel was on vacation. Obviously.

  Also, she’d seen far too much evil not to believe there were demons ruled by a devil. But...but...

  Baden wasn’t an immortal. He couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. Normal. Ordinary.

  “Where’s your laughter now, nevesta?”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. He dared mock her? “Perhaps I’m too busy wondering if you’re going to blame your crimes on the demon.”

  “No,” he said, surprising her. “I’m no longer possessed. Not by a demon, anyway. I’m not sure what inhabits me now. A dark presence...a beast named Destruction. But I don’t blame him for what was done at the chapel. I made my own choices. I pulled the trigger. I wielded the blade.”

  A beast? Destruction? “You hurt the men in the chapel so easily. I’m guessing violence isn’t new to your wheelhouse, whether you are what you claim or not.”

  “No, it’s not new to me. But sometimes it’s a special treat.”

  Cold fingers of dread walked the length of her spine. “The more evil you do, the more evil you are,” she said softly. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined she was safe in Peter’s arms. A girl with a bright future. Happy. Hopeful. “What does your girlfriend...wife?...think of your proclivities?”

  “I have no woman I call my own. There’s no one strong enough to handle me.”

  Without strength, we have nothing. We are nothing.

  “Strength is your only requirement in a mate?”

  “Yes.” He frowned. “No. I want no mate. I’m too dangerous.”

  He looked away from her, focusing beyond her. The color drained from his face, and flickers of red lit his eyes. No, no. His eyes were bloodshot, that was all. The horror of the situation—and his declarations—had affected her perception of him.

  Sweat rolled from his brow as a tremor rocked him. Was he having a panic attack? Or was he fighting whatever he considered the beast?

  She contemplated comforting him, but she knew better than to touch him.

  “Sing,” he croaked. “Sing now.”

  She wanted to snap at him for issuing such a harsh command, but she obeyed him instead. She’d often serenaded her dogs whenever they’d been frenzied. More often than not, they’d calmed. Within a few minutes, the red began to ebb from Baden’s eyes. He released a heavy sigh, the color returning to his cheeks.

  He rubbed his temple, as if to ward off an ache. Or a voice he couldn’t silence.

  Were the drugs finally kicking in? She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. If he suspected...

  Keep him distracted.

  “Well. It’s my turn to share.” Before he could order her to be quiet, she said, “I grew up with an American father. He was black. My mother was Slovak and as white as snow. Most people accepted our family, but there were some who didn’t. I got in trouble on more than one occasion for fighting the didn’ts. Knock-down-drag-outs at school. Daddy used to say we can’t fight fire with fire. We have to use water.”

  “I had...no mother.” Baden blinked rapidly as his head lolled to the side. His eyes closed slowly, and stayed closed, his body slumping over the side of the couch.

  What had he meant, he’d had no mother?

  Did it matter? There was no better time to act. Stay calm. Stay focused. Katarina ran to the front door, searching for more weapons along the way. No knives, no guns. Nothing. Fine. She would go with what she had. Her hands shook as she flipped the lock. Hinges squeaked as the entrance swung open.

  Ding. Elevator doors slid apart. Out strode the black-haired woman who’d smoked a cigar on her balcony. She had a big black bag slung over her shoulder—and headed straight for Katarina.

  Humans weren’t a waste of space, after all. She’d come to help.

  “Thank you!” Katarina stopped in front of her. “We need to notify—”

  “Where’s Baden?”
the woman asked, a raspy quality to her voice. Like Baden, she had a slight Greek accent.

  The accent...the bands...

  Unease overshadowed Katarina’s sense of elation. “In there. Asleep. I drugged him.”

  The woman smiled with relish. “Well, well. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

  Katarina latched onto her wrist to pull her back to the elevators. “Come on. We must notify the authorities. They’ll handle—”

  “No. They won’t. But I will.” With that, the woman slammed her forehead into Katarina’s.

  She careened backward, pain and vertigo rushing her. Her last thought before darkness swallowed her whole: Only I could escape a murderer and go from bad to worse.

  6

  “Steal the box, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”

  —Baden, companion to Destruction

  BADEN FOUGHT THROUGH the oppressive taint of lethargy, Destruction roaring obscenities in the back of his mind. Katarina had drugged him, obviously, and escaped.

  As weak as she was physically, she was strong mentally. She’d proved to be smart, resourceful and sneaky. He’d underestimated her. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.

  He almost...admired her right now. Almost.

  Enemies must be dealt with swiftly and harshly.

  Destruction wasn’t so easily impressed.

  Only a few minutes ago, the beast had raged inside Baden’s head—the discussion about parents had made him think of his mother, Jezebel. A witch who’d ruled a section of the underworld before Hades. The bitch who’d sold Destruction to one of the (former) kings—the male who’d locked him in the dungeon all those centuries ago.

  Remembering the calm the siren had caused with her voice, Baden had command Katarina sing to him. She wasn’t a siren, or even part siren, and yet she’d caused a stronger reaction. The beast hadn’t just calmed, he’d purred, utterly content.

  She had power over him. Another reason she had to die.

  Baden’s ears twitched as the front door opened. Booted footsteps thumped against the floor. Too heavy to belong to Katarina.

  A tension-laced pause ended with a soft chuckle he recognized. Pandora had found him.

  She must have passed Katarina at the bank of elevators. Had she harmed the human to get to him?

  Baden raged, and yet the beast quieted.

  Pandora tsk-tsked. “Apparently females are your Kryptonite, my friend. This is the second time one has led to your murder.”

  Threat? Destruction asked. He wasn’t sure?

  Baden fought the lethargy with all his strength, his nerve endings beginning to tingle as they came back to life.

  “Do you remember the feel of the blade slicing through your neck?” she asked, maintaining a conversational tone. “No worries if you don’t. I’m about to remind you.”

  Something heavy whacked the coffee table. He managed to crack open his eyelids as a zipper opened.

  Threat! Destruction snarled. Must eliminate.

  “When I’m finished with you,” Pandora said, digging inside an oversize duffel bag, “I’m going to kill your friends. And I’m going to make it hurt.”

  If she targeted Baden, not fine, but whatever. Just more of the same. But to turn her murderous intentions to his brothers and sister? Too far!

  The beast snarled louder.

  She continued blithely. “You and the others...you didn’t just take the box from me, didn’t just end my life. You ruined my only chance to—” She pressed her lips together, and her nostrils flared.

  Her only chance to what? In all their years together, she’d never revealed the secrets of her past.

  She slapped different metal parts together, creating a battery-powered chain saw. She smiled as she pushed a button, the motor revving and blades spinning.

  She had come to play.

  Rage consumed him; the rivers of black the wreaths had etched into his skin now chewed through his veins and burrowed deep into his bones, forcing them to expand. All the while, Destruction slammed against his chest—a chest that expanded, as well. Unnatural strength flooded him, dark and intoxicating, more than he’d ever experienced, as if the beast was taking over his body.

  The beast was taking over his body.

  Pandora looked him over and frowned. “How did you—never mind. I can guess. The wreaths have done weird things to me, too. But your reaction is too little too late, I’m afraid.” She lifted the chain saw overhead. “This is goodbye, Baden. I’d say it’s been nice knowing you, but I never lie.”

  He worked his jaw, finding his voice. “What of Hades’s warning?”

  “If killing you means dying myself, so be it.” She stepped toward him, and he sprang into motion at last, kicking out his leg to knock her ankles together. She crashed to her ass, losing her breath; she managed to retain her hold on the chain saw, even as the blade cut through the wood floor, shavings flying in every direction.

  He latched onto her foot and twisted, hard, breaking the bones in her ankle and hobbling her. At least for a moment.

  She yelped, and then she swung the chain saw at him. Target: his neck. He ducked and, when the opportunity presented itself, booted the back of her hand, causing her grip on the weapon to finally loosen.

  The chain saw dropped, the motor dying.

  He stood while she crouched, her hair standing on end as if she’d just jammed her finger into a socket. Fangs extended past her bottom lip, little growls rising from her. The chompers were new; they were bigger than a vampire’s but smaller than a bear shifter’s. She had lines of black running from the bands, just like him, but hers were intermixed with the many butterflies tattooed on her forearms.

  When Baden and the others were first possessed, a butterfly tattoo appeared on each of their bodies. Same basic shape, but in different locations and colors. Pandora’s tattoos were self-inflicted, each representing one of the demons. Violence, Death, Pain, Doubt, Wrath, Lies, Secrets, Defeat, Promiscuity, Disaster, Disease, Jealousy, False Hope and Distrust. There had been other demons, but they were given to the immortals trapped in Tartarus. A prison for the worst of the worst criminals.

  Pandora had no problem with those prisoners, only the people who’d stolen her box.

  The butterflies were an obvious kill list.

  She’s a threat.

  Yes. Oh, yes. “Where’s the human girl?” he demanded.

  “She’s sleeping soundly at the elevators. Why? Were you hoping she’d come to your rescue?”

  “You’re the only one in danger today.” Hades wouldn’t punish him for defending himself. How could he? “You made a grave mistake, coming after me.” The beast already envisioned how best to end her. Using the chain saw to hack off her limbs...then her head. “You should have focused your efforts on earning your first point.”

  “How adorable.” She circled him, her chilling grin widening. “You don’t know. I’ve already earned my first point.”

  His hands curled into fists as he turned with her. She was the head, and he was the tail? Unacceptable!

  “Enjoy being in the lead while you can, skýla.” Bitch. “It won’t last long. You’re weak.” He pricked at her pride, determined to send her into a rage, to make her vulnerable. “You’ve always been weak. I remember how Haidee killed me, yes...but I also remember how easy it was to steal dimOuniak from you. I remember how Maddox swiped up a sword upon his possession and stabbed into your vulnerable belly six different times. You were utterly defenseless, unable to stop him. You couldn’t even—”

  Cursing him, she swung at his head. When he blocked her fist with the palm of his hand, she swung at him with her other arm, going for his throat. He leaned back, avoiding impact, while catching her other wrist. A single twist spun her around, allowing him to pin her arm behind her back.

 
“See? Weak,” he whispered into her ear.

  “Bastard!”

  Destruction laughed as Baden wrapped an arm around her neck to draw her against him, the pressure he applied enough to choke anyone else.

  “Asshole,” she managed to rasp.

  A sharp pain exploded in his thigh before his entire leg went limp. He released her, stumbling back. The hilt of what had to be a poison-tipped dagger protruded just above his knee.

  “I’m going to rip out your—”

  A pained moan drifted from the hallway, snagging his attention, silencing him.

  Katarina was waking.

  “Dibs on the first kill,” Torin said with relish. A gun cocked.

  His friends had returned.

  Pandora stiffened. Baden yanked out the dagger, and for the second time since his return from the dead, he bled. But just as before the blood was thick and black. He could only guess at the reason: the beast, who was more alive to him with every day that passed.

  With Destruction shouting obscenities, Baden tossed the weapon. Pandora dodged left, but not swiftly enough. The blade grazed her shoulder. She sprinted toward the window, jumping...diving. Glass shattered, warm air blustering inside the living room.

  He raced over, seeing she’d left smears of black behind. As she soared down, down, she used a retractable wire to slow her momentum. Swinging forward, she crashed through a window in the middle of the building.

  He wanted to give chase, to attack, but the urge to safeguard Katarina—the key to his point—proved stronger.

  William had her draped over his shoulder. “Where do you want her?”

  Torin and Cameo flanked his sides, weapons drawn and at the ready. Baden wanted to make their lives easier, and yet he kept adding complications.

  “The couch,” he said. The scene of the crime.

  “There’s no one to kill?” Torin pouted. “I always miss the fun.”

  William tossed Katarina onto the couch cushions. When she finished bouncing, he noticed the large knot on her forehead. One he’d sported on several occasions. Pandora had head-butted her.