Seducing Chaos

by Luna Quinn

  More time passed, and finally her phone beeped with a reply from Razor.

  Busy. Meet me around 9pm on Black Falls Road

  Will do, she texted back, keeping the response short and putting her phone back away.

  She continued walking, but the tension coursing throughout her body wouldn’t fade. She shivered, but it wasn’t from the raw chill in the air. Nothing was waiting for her at home, she had little to no Calls to busy herself with, and she wasn’t in the mood to go back to the Night House already. She suddenly had a need to be with the friends she considered her brothers.

  With a deep breath, she transported herself to Archer’s secluded home in Sector Seven.

  Compared to Sasha’s rundown apartment, Archer practically lived in a mansion, with several hundred acres all to himself. As opposed to how gray and cold it had been back in Three, the sun was shining and hardly any clouds marred the blue sky. Archer would never be caught inside on a beautiful day like this, so she walked around the house.

  The immediate backyard was a sprawling garden, complete with flowers and a fountain in the center of it all. But beyond that was the first bunker.

  As if on cue, there was a huge explosion in the distance, a plume of fire and smoke going up in the air. A second later, the blast wave tingled over Sasha’s skin. With a grin, she pushed up her sleeves and strode over to the first bunker. But she didn’t have to knock on the bunker door to find her friend.

  No, the idiot was standing outside, probably way too close to where the massive explosion had gone off, his skin dusted with a fine layer of ash and soot.

  Archer turned at the sound of her footsteps and graced her with a megawatt grin. This week, his hair was ice blonde at the roots, gradually streaked with darker blue towards the ends of his hair. She had to hand it to him, he looked good no matter what he did with his hair. It was a gift. He also sported a black eye and a few scratches on his cheek, but she didn’t bother asking where he’d earned those. He always had some kind of fresh cuts and bruises going on.

  “You’re just in time for my morning routine. I’m testing some new combinations. Wanna try?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the long, narrow window of the bunker, where she knew he had bags of different types of explosives and containers to mix them in.

  Sasha rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. You know this isn’t my scene. Too messy. I like the precision of a bullet through the brain.”

  Archer made an exasperated sound, but it was clear he was in a good mood. It was no secret that after he blew enough things up, he walked around with a boner.

  It made Sasha laugh, and she could feel her tension begin to fade. “I actually have some info on those tainted drugs, thought you and Locke should know what we’re dealing with.”

  Archer nodded. “I’m actually expecting him back soon. He was here a while ago, but he got a Call. Said it felt messy.” He walked by her, then stopped, his eyebrows furrowed. This close, she could see that the small balls on the ends of both barbells through his eyebrow had “69” written inside.

  “Where were you?” His playful tone was gone, replaced with a concerned edge.

  Sasha frowned, looking down and inhaling. “Do I need to take a shower?”

  When she looked back up, Archer’s gaze was burning through her, and she suddenly couldn’t read his expression. “You smell like the Pit.”

  Sasha didn’t want to know how he knew what the Pit smelled like. “This relates to the update I was talking about.”

  Without waiting for her explanation, Archer ducked into the bunker to stuff more sticks with whichever materials he was working with. She followed him inside, leaning on the low counter below the window. By the quick movements of his hands and how he paced around, Sasha knew he was tensing. She waited patiently for him to go off on her. It didn’t take long. Like the fuses in his explosives, Archer was precise in his timing.

  “What the fuck were you doing, Sasha? What happened to working with Razor? I thought things were working out for you two.” He groaned, coming to his own conclusions and continuing before she could get a word in edgewise. “What impulsive thing did you do this time?”

  Instead of being annoyed, Sasha could only smile as Archer went on. He knew her too well for her to get angry about his assumptions.

  She answered calmly. “I wasn’t in the Pit, I promise. Razor and I are working well together. At the moment. You’re not going to believe me, but I’ve been good. I think I’m learning how to be cautious.”

  That made Archer completely pause from his work and snort with laughter. “Yeah, and I’m the great Goddess.”

  Sasha laughed. “I mean it. When Locke returns, I’ll tell—”

  “Tell him what? What did I miss?” Locke asked, appearing across the bunker from Sasha.

  Locke had a handkerchief in one hand, wiping blood off the other. Sasha wasn’t worried that he’d gotten violent. Reapers simply got dirty sometimes, especially when there was more than one body, or when the bodies were in more than one piece. Besides, although they were damn good fighters, they were expressly forbidden to kill, and Locke was the least violent of them all. The kid was a damn pacifist compared to her and Archer.

  “Sash went into the Pit and did something stupid.”

  Sasha rolled her eyes and picked up an empty explosive cartridge, tossing it at Archer. “Shut up, asshole. I did no such thing.”

  Locke blinked at her, a thin, blond braid falling across his face as his head tilted in question.

  She sighed. “I went to the old school in the abandoned district to search for Castor. But instead of finding him or Maverick there, I found a Demon. I don’t know where the other two are, or if they’re still alive, but I have a gut feeling that this Demon is the one who’s tainted the drugs. I have a sample for the Hellhounds to check out. But this Demon’s got an open portal to the Pit in one of the rooms down there.” Her gaze flicked to Archer. “That’s why you smell it on me. This Demon—Valtu—opened the door while I was there and she must have just walked out from the place. I’m that lucky, I guess,” she muttered wryly. “Anyway, this Demon is bad news. She’s a very powerful Zimma Demon, and no one summoned her. She’s here of her own reasons and free will.”

  “Fuck.” Archer groaned.

  Locke closed his eyes with a sigh. “Wonderful. So…we’re all thinking the same thing, right?”

  “Yeah.” Sasha pushed off the counter. “Demons are looking to knock down the Hellhounds and take back their land. Fun times ahead.”

  Archer was closing a stick of explosives, his eyes down on the rapid, familiar movements of his fingers. “Have you told Razor yet?” He glanced up as he asked the question, throwing her an accusatory look. “Are you still being an asshole to him?”

  Sasha rolled her eyes with a smile. “Give me some credit here, Arch. Of course I’m telling him. I’m meeting him later to fill him in,” she replied, her mind going back to his text message. Maybe she should be out there looking for him, in case he needed her at his back.

  Archer exchanged a look with Locke, one that she recognized as their version of tag-teaming. What were they doing?

  Locke drew a breath, rubbing the tattoo on the back of his left hand. He often touched it when he was nervous or anxious, which made Sasha wonder if there was a deeper meaning behind the ink. The minute he started speaking, she recognized that Locke was worried about her. The big softy.

  “I hope you know that if you feel uncomfortable working with him, all you have to do is ask, and one of us will take over. Xavier can go fuck himself, because if Razor is being—”

  Sasha stopped him with a raised hand.

  Then she realized with a kick to the gut that they’d probably heard the same rumors Sael had. They’d had that very public fight out in the party house…and then again in Three. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone had witnessed them and the news had already reached her friends.

  Great. Fucking gossip.

  She gazed up at both of
her friends, her frustration fading and leaving her sincere. “I can feel you two trying to start some kind of intervention with me, but please, hear me out. I don’t need it. Seriously. Things are…good with Razor.” She shrugged, feeling oddly shy. “We’ve, ah, sorta settled our differences.”

  Both Reapers blinked at her, stunned. Then Locke blew out a relieved breath.

  Sasha snickered. “Speechless? I should take a picture.”

  Archer regained his voice first. “I’m glad to hear that, Sash. And I’m glad I don’t have to shank Razor in the gut.” He grinned, then added with conviction, “Razor is a good guy, one of the best I know.”

  Sasha smiled. He was right about that. “Um, yeah, and apparently, he thought I hated him until I convinced him otherwise.”

  “Why in the world would he ever think that?” her blue-haired asshole friend said with mock shock.

  She flipped him off.

  Locke shook his head in disbelief, but was smiling warmly. “So how exactly did you convince him?”

  “I don’t think you guys want all the sordid details.”

  Archer gave her a lascivious grin. “Oh, I beg to differ. I’m pretty sure we really do want all the sordid deets. All of them. Down to what color underwear Razor was wearing. Right, Locke?”

  Locke nodded, and added, “I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to get a firsthand account on one of the Hellhounds’ legendary prowess in bed.”

  Sasha grinned slyly. “Oh, there were definitely no beds. And that’s all you two will get.”

  Locke chuckled. “Party pooper.”

  “Lame.” Archer snorted. “So,” he began a few seconds later, lifting three packed explosives. “I think this calls for a little celebration.”

  “What are we celebrating? That Sasha was able to work with another person and not kill them?” Locke asked as he removed his jacket.

  She rolled her eyes. “Har, har.”

  “No, that she got laid.” Archer whooped.

  Sasha laughed, stepping out of the bunker with her two best friends. The possibilities laid out in front of her seemed so endless now that she had opened herself up to them. Even amid so much turmoil, the warmth of the sun seeping into her skin gave her a sense of peace.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his arm, Razor cursed this damn night. It was fucking freezing in Sector One, he was bleeding, and he’d almost gotten his ass kicked by some Fairy who was high on speed. Damn Fairy had been flying around faster than he could track her, landing blows and slicing him with her blade before he could dodge them. Unfortunately for her, Razor had animal senses, and once he’d concentrated on her movements and picked up on a pattern, he’d gotten a good kick in and sent her crashing into a tree, knocking her unconscious. He hated hurting women, but there wasn’t much else he could have done in this situation. The drugged up woman had been terrorizing a playground full of children. She probably thought she was being playful, but when she’d tossed a small boy into the air and yelled, “Homerun!” help had been called in. Razor had been the closest. Thankfully, he’d gotten there in time to stop her before she seriously hurt someone, or herself.

  The boy had received a few minor scrapes from landing on a bush, and a good scare, but was fine otherwise. He was home with his parents enjoying a carton of ice cream Razor had dropped off.

  As he drove home, Razor thought back to Sasha’s text. He was anxious to know how her solo recon had gone. It had been fucking hard to see her walk out of Night’s office on her own, with a plan to look for Castor that had been too close to winging it for his liking. He’d also been so close to just saying fuck it and tailing her. He’d obviously decided against it. First, because Sasha would shoot him if she caught him. And second, because Razor knew damn well she was trained and as deadly as Razor or any of his brothers. So he’d stayed put and instead checked off some items on his to-do list. Though, that hadn’t stopped him from considering seeking her out and acting as backup, because, yes, she might be a great fighter, but she wasn’t immune to magic. No one was. She was a Reaper, long lived and hard to kill, but certainly not immortal.

  Pulling into his garage, he turned off his bike and headed inside, checking his watch and noting that he had some time before he met with Sasha. In the meantime, he’d relax in his awesome sunken tub and really take in that Sasha had agreed to give them a chance. And if he was lucky, maybe some kind of epiphany would reveal itself on how to fix everything that was fucked in Shadow Realm.

  The second he entered his building, he knew something was off. A strange disturbance made the air feel suffocating, and the scent that invaded his space—touching his possessions—almost made him want to vomit. He bared his fangs and snarled. Rushing up the stairs, he pushed open the door, stomping in and pausing at the edge of the living room.

  Razor exhaled loudly as he came face to face with the one person in the world he’d hoped to never see again. The man was sprawled on Razor’s favorite suede recliner, all elegance and familiarity, as if he and Razor did this every weekend.

  “Well, hello, Father dearest,” Razor said. And just to irritate him, he pulled at an imaginary dress and curtsied.

  Erummon’s dark hair was slicked back with an artfully combed wave in the front. A black velvet suit that should only have been allowed in the pages of a fashion magazine encased a long and lean body. Razor hated to admit it, but not even Night could pull off that suit and still look as if he were the most dangerous thing in a room full of deadly beasts. And, damn, did Erummon look like Edge. It’d been so long since he had last seen this bastard that he’d almost forgotten.

  Erummon’s purple eyes, exactly the shade of Night’s, narrowed on Razor. It made him wonder which of his father’s traits he’d inherited.

  The king of the Underworld’s gaze held Razor’s for a long moment. It was a look that used to make Razor piss his pants as a pup in the Underworld. Too bad for Erummon that it no longer worked on him.

  “Hello, C’rrenAnkiro,” his father said in Vruk. The deep baritone of his voice, so much like Edge’s, sent vibrations through the floorboards.

  Razor gritted his teeth at Erummon’s use of his birth name. He was tempted to reply in Empyrean, but he knew Erummon, and that would only start an argument that Razor had no interest in having. He just wanted the bastard the hell out of his home.

  “That’s not my name,” Razor reminded him, responding in Vruk. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Erummon gave him a glare that would send hordes of Others scampering. It didn’t take a genius to see why this Demon ruled the Underworld. His presence alone commanded obedience. His actions left you no choice.

  “Oh, yes. Razor, is it? I give you the name of royalty, and you change it to that of a common disposable item.”

  Razor swallowed back his retort. Not getting into this with him. “I’m still waiting to hear why you’re here.”

  Erummon brushed invisible lint off his pants as he crossed one leg over the other. “Aren’t you even a little happy to see me? How long has it been? A century?”

  Razor crossed his arms over his chest. “Try more than two, and no, I’m not. But you know what would make me extremely happy? I might even burst from joy if you got the fuck out of my home.”

  His father smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “I see you’re still as crude as always.”

  “Unfortunately, I was hanging out, probably literally, the day How to Behave like a Royal Jackass was taught.”

  The king of the Underworld lifted an eyebrow, lips pressing together in annoyance. “You’re still bitter about that? I was trying to teach you how to be the best of the best.”

  Razor scoffed. “If by best you mean the best torture victim, well then, you succeeded. What parenting book were you fucking reading out of, by the way?”

  Erummon bared his fangs as a muscle ticked in his jaw, apparently reaching his limit. “I’m not here to discuss the past, but the future.”

&nb
sp; Future? He narrowed his eyes, pushing back his anger at the man who was supposed to protect them, not hurt them, and concentrated on what the meaning behind his father’s words could be.

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” he said, taking a seat across from the man. “Tell me why you’re here, visiting my humble abode.”

  His father had never been interested in venturing out of his comfort zone in the Underworld. He had millions of minions to do his dirty work for him, so why the personal visit?

  Adjusting the lapel of his suit jacket, Erummon analyzed the Kremortium cane he held in one hand, undoubtedly considering how much to tell Razor.

  That fucking cane. The ruler of the Underworld never left home without it. That he could hold the deadly metal without so much as a burn was a warning all in itself. He couldn’t even begin to estimate the body count behind that cane.

  Erummon shrugged elegantly. “Is it so hard to believe that one of the reasons is simply to see how my sons are doing?”

  Razor gave him a hard look. “That’s funny,” he said dryly. “Stop joking and get to the real reason why you’re here.”

  Nothing Erummon did was ever without a reason, and those reasons were never good.

  The man smiled, and Razor was, once again, struck by how much Edge resembled their father. Edge would have his balls if he said as much, but it was the truth. Unlike Night, who, according to Erummon, looked mostly like their mother, Sin and Razor were a mix between the two parents. At least that was his guess. But not Edge. He was almost the mirror image of Erummon. His oldest brother had more muscle, but beyond a few minor characteristics that almost certainly came from their mother, Edge could very well pass for dear old Dad.

  Even the icy control Edge exuded matched Erummon’s.

  When the Demon king spoke, his words were deliberate, carefully chosen. “There’s been some trouble back home. I had a disagreement with one of my advisors. I’ve lost track of her. I’m beginning to suspect she might be seeking revenge of some sort.”

  “Disagreement,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. This sounded familiar. “So, in other words, you tried to kill this advisor, you failed, and now she’s pissed and looking to cut off your head.”