Darkness & Lies: A Brotherhood Novel (#1)

by Brandi Salazar

  “That was…” Leseot searched for words. “Indescribable.” Coming forward, he planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth then stepped back to survey her. Running his reptilian fingertips over her, he shivered, a small smile of satisfaction playing on his handsome mouth. “By far, you are my favorite pet yet.”

  He stepped back further and frowned. With a quick snap of his fingers, she felt her skin ignite with a searing heat as it began stitching itself back together. She would never get used to that sensation.

  “Can’t have my pets dying on me.” With that, he turned around, gave Atheros a hot once over that promised his turn would soon come, and disappeared down the hallway, taking all light with him.

  Feeling fractionally better now that her skin no longer resembled a flayed fish, Cheyenne tried to find some humor to lighten both their moods.

  “Well, I guess it’s my lucky day.” She resisted a groan as she tried to pull herself up the wall and to her feet. For all the healing affects Leseot had granted her; her body was still gripped in pain as her muscles spasmed and strained against her bindings. Even her bones hurt. “He forgot to use the pliers this time.”

  She was met with nothing but dead air. No doubt Atheros wasn’t feeling too chipper, but usually he would grunt, or she would catch a small breath of a laugh from him. Not this time, though. Leseot’s torture had been particularly brutal tonight, and if it hadn’t been for Atheros’s silent support, she wouldn’t have made it. In truth, she wanted to be sick. To throw her guts up all over the stained, blood-soaked floor. She could still feel him inside her, and her skin crawled at the sensation. She wanted to die. If only she could.

  Memories of her and Erias back at the quaint bed and breakfast, in his room, his bed, rolled through her head on an endless loop. He haunted her every waking moment and no matter how mad she had been the last time they had been together; it was but a distant memory. It felt like she had been trapped in this place forever, and she couldn’t even remember how she came to be here let alone why she was angry with him in the first place. All she knew was she wanted to see him again. Just once before she died.

  But that wasn’t likely to happen. She knew from her time here that Leseot played with his victims for a short time, maybe a week, give or take a couple of days depending on if her math was right and depending on how much fun he had with them, then, in the throes of his misguided attempt at passion, he would slaughter them where they hung.

  She was already nearing her end. Even though time was hardly relative here, she could tell she had been here a while now. She could just feel it. Despite his claims, he was getting bored with her, had done just about everything his depraved mind could come up with to her, and she had no misconceptions that he would soon dispose of her.

  It pained her to know that her only source of companionship here, Atheros, would more than likely go before her. He had been here before she came along, suffering the nightly abuse alone. And now she would soon take his place, going it alone, until she too would be released from this nightmare.

  Maybe that’s why he was so solemn tonight. Was he thinking about the end? Or maybe how he would meet his end? That was always a toss–up, how Leseot would kill you. Would he tear you to shreds with his teeth? His talon–like nails? Would he carve you up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey? Or would he just gut you like a fish? It was hard to say since he was always coming up with something new. She could still hear the screams of the dead as they met their end.

  Still, an unexplainable panic set in at the deafening silence. She needed to know he was still with her. She wasn’t ready to lose him yet.

  Praying he would respond because she didn’t think she could survive without him, she whispered into the dark, ominous cell.

  “Are you okay, Atheros?”

  Chapter 22

  Erias gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder to see Charon navigating his boat down the narrow canal and back into The Marsh. They stood on the sandy banks where the river Phlegethon and Styxx merged. Tartarus was but a speck in the distance.

  “It will take hours to trek the distance.” Behr assessed their surroundings and readied his blades. “But it can be done.” He said the last bit more for himself than anything. This trip was near but impossible, and it would take nothing short of a miracle to pull it off and escape unscathed.

  He looked to the human boyfriend, Kris. He was sweating profusely, and skin was sporting a ghostly pallor. The conditions of the place were such that no mere mortal could handle its intensely horrific confines for long if they lacked a strong soul. It would slowly eat away at their sanity until they were but a reflection of who they once were.

  That was of course if they weren’t eaten by the damned creatures that dwelled here first.

  Behr looked at Erias and tipped his head toward Kris. “He’ll be lucky if he makes it. Even luckier if they don’t smell him first.”

  Erias cringed inside but remained staunch on the outside. It would do no good allowing the protective emotions he was feeling to overtake him. It wasn’t something he had allowed in centuries, and it wasn’t something that helped the cause. In fact, as a warrior, it was absolutely critical that he remained impassive, disconnected. To be anything else invited problems, pain.

  Even as he thought it, he knew he was just fooling himself. There was something there, a connection between him and Cheyenne. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, trekking through the depths of Hell to rescue one insignificant woman from the clutches of evil. In the grand scheme of things what difference did it make if she was lost to the underworld?

  The fact was; it did matter. To him.

  He studied Kris and his chalky complexion. The guy really didn’t look good. In fact, he looked like he might…

  “Aw shit!” Behr leapt back as Kris blew, splattering the ground with a colorful array of last night’s dinner. Behr, covering his mouth and nose with one large hand, turned ten shades of green as he turned away from the mess. And the smell.

  Good Lord. The stench hit Erias right in the face and knocked him back a few steps. It was worse than the smell of burnt flesh and rotting corpses they’d had to endure on the ferry ride over. Of course that was probably why he was losing his dinner all over his Chucks right now.

  “When you’re finished”—Erias pulled out a gleaming dagger and studied his reflection in the blade—“we’ll get moving. It will be nightfall soon and trust me; you don’t want to hang around for the festivities.”

  Kris clenched his teeth and breathed deep, cleansing breaths. He’d been trying to hold it down for hours and thought once his feet hit solid ground that he had successfully done so, but without warning the rolling started, and he felt his blood pressure drop. It was a toss-up of whether or not he was going to vomit or pass out. Thankfully, it was the former because if he fainted like a pansy in front of these two beasts of men, he never would have lived it down.

  With the worst of it out of his system and feeling mildly improved, Kris looked up from his hunched position and took in the macho don’t-give-two-shits expression Erias depicted, and sneered. “How can you possibly tell what nightfall is down here?” He swept his hand out to encompass their surroundings. “There’s no sun,” he said cockily. Straightening, he spun around to survey the area. “No moon,” he observed. “Nope. Nothing but endless plains of red sand beaches and foul smelling stagnated water. We’re in the middle of nowhere, gentlemen.”

  “Actually,” Behr tossed over his shoulder as he began trudging ahead, “we are smack-dab in the middle of Hell.” Unsheathing his sword in one fluid motion, he glanced over his shoulder to the two men. “And you’re about to get a front-row seat to the show.”

  Getting his attention, Kris looked on past Behr and saw the blur of motion just as the harsh sound of barking dogs penetrated his ears. “Oh, hell.”

  Cheyenne nearly sobbed as Atheros was dropped from his shackles onto the dank floor. He had been brutally beaten, savage gashes that ran the length of his arms, legs, and back oozed
black blood at an alarming rate. Was that how she looked when Leseot ravaged her body with is whips and chains, knives and claws? She suddenly understood why Atheros was unable to look at her afterwards. It was a horrific sight, and she wanted to wail and scream her protests, her hurt, her compassion. The man was so strong as to utter not a word as his limp, injured body was dragged to the center of the cell and tossed in a heap.

  What was happening? She thought for sure Leseot was going to take him away for his final attack. Instead, he left him lying there in a pool of his own blood and walked away, exiting the cell, whistling a cheery tune as he went. The torchlight extinguished a moment later plunging them into impenetrable darkness once again.

  Cheyenne listened to Atheros’s labored breaths and her own erratic heartbeat. The scurrying of tiny, clawed feet grew louder as they closed in. She knew then what Leseot meant to do with Atheros.

  Toeing her feet as far out as her legs could stretch, she searched for Atheros’s listless body based off her memory of where she had last seen him when she’d had the benefit of light. In the cramped confines of the cell, he wasn’t far off. She just needed the right angle…and a few more inches added to her height.

  Damn.

  “Atheros,” she whispered into the darkness, afraid of calling attention to them. “Atheros, you must hear me. Tell me you hear me.”

  Panic roared up inside her when he refused to answer her. She was terrified of what might become of him if she couldn’t get him mobile. The scurrying became louder, and she could tell by the whispers of tiny bodies across the loose dirt floor that their numbers were many.

  “Atheros! They are coming!” she whispered frantically. “You have to get up.”

  A soft moan met her ears, and she let out a sigh of relief that he was still with her. She jerked her chains, though she knew it would be for naught. She'd already been down that road…many times, and she knew it was worthless to try, but she couldn’t stand by and let something like this happen to someone she had grown to consider a friend right in front of her. Whether she could see or not, she wasn’t deaf and that would haunt her for the rest of her short life.

  “Atheros, listen to me. The rats, they’re coming. You have to get up now. Come to me. Stand with me.”

  Oh, God, they would eat him alive if he didn’t listen. He had to get up. He had to save himself because she certainly couldn’t. She had seen the extent of his injuries, though, and the worry that he wouldn’t be able to find the strength to pull himself together was unbearable. So when she heard his soft reply, it was music to her ears.

  “Just let it be, love.” His voice quavered through his pain, was garbled without use of a tongue to provide clarity to his words, but he did his best. “I am utterly weak and feeble in my current state.”

  Atheros heard her silent sobs as she tried to retain that fierce strength and determination he had grown to love and admire in their short time knowing each other. She would cry for him? A man who had done nothing to earn, much less deserve, such kindness and generosity? It made his blackened, unbeating heart swell in his battered chest. “Cry not over me. I am not worth the effort.” Her soft cries grew steadily stronger. “Truly, this fate is much less cruel than the torture I have already endured. I am just thankful that I have seen the light through the darkness before death claimed me.” He smiled sadly, knowing that his garbled words were just as lost on her through the pitch expanse as the tight smile he wore.

  The small squeaks became more insistent as the scent of fresh blood caught the humid air and carried it to the rodent’s eager noses. They picked up their pace, and Cheyenne knew exactly when they hit their target. Atheros began thrashing, trying futilely to toss them away as they nipped at his tender flesh.

  She couldn’t stand it. Hearing his agonized grunt of pain as they attacked him. It tore at her psyche and burned in her chest. She couldn’t let him die like this. It was too horrible, too monstrous, but she didn’t know what she could do. As she thought it over, she could only figure one thing, and it wasn’t exactly a way to prevent what was happening or even stop it, but it was the only way she could ensure that he wouldn’t be alone.

  That neither of them would be alone.

  Thinking briefly on her life, the children she would never have, the doting husband she would never marry, her friends and all the good times they’d had together, she resolved herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be making it home.

  At least not in this lifetime.

  Turning her face into her arm, Cheyenne bit down on her bicep as hard as she could bear until the metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth, then withdrew, allowing it to spill down her side and trickle onto the floor.

  It didn’t take long for the critters to scent a second source from which to gorge themselves on. The first bite to her exposed toe shocked her to her senses, and before she had the thought to reconsider the stupidity of what she had just done, they were swarming up her legs and clamping down on her flesh with their sharp, curved teeth.

  Erias panted, raking his hands down his arms to squeegee the blood-soaked leather clean. He brushed at his pants, ridding them of the corded intestinal remains. It truly was a dirty job he had.

  “Oh, man,” Kris breathed, feeling shaky all over again. “I think I might be sick.”

  Behr nearly laughed. The guy had been vomiting for the last several minutes. It was a wonder he had anything left in him to chuck, but the fact that he was strong because he had seen and been through so much, sunk in, and suddenly it didn’t seem so humorous. If only he could return to a time when he was naïve, when he was reserved, a gentleman, but then he almost did laugh. When had he ever been a gentleman? He’d been bedding whores and stealing from every cart and shop he could get his slick fingers in since he was a small boy.

  No, he wouldn’t laugh at a man who had somehow skated through life as innocent as a wee babe in comparison to the world he had been living in for the past few centuries. It was enough to spark a hint of jealousy in him.

  “Suck it up, boy.” Behr was unusually short with the guy, but he didn’t really care. For some reason, thinking about the past got him a little surly. “We have ground to cover and not a lot of time to do it.” Guiding his sword back into its scabbard, he stepped over the mounds of severed hell hound flesh and cut up the ground with long, purposeful strides.

  Kris wasn’t sure what the hell had crawled up his butt and died, but Behr sure was acting like a…well, bear for lack of a better word. He was moody and uptight all of a sudden, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the glances he kept casting his way every twenty yards or so were enough to set a man on fire.

  Considering the sweltering heat bearing down on him like a raging inferno, that wasn’t too hard to imagine.

  Sweat poured down his temples and soaked into the collar of his shirt. His jeans felt heavy and matted to his thighs. It’s hotter than Hades! He thought, swabbing his brow with is shirt sleeves, then laughed to himself over the poorly attempted joke.

  “What’s the dopey smile all about?” Erias asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

  Kris shrugged. “Just thinking.”

  “I can’t imagine what could bring a smile to any man’s face down here.” Erias’s face was grim as he too got lost in thought.

  He hadn’t been back here since he first started out as a warrior and needed training. Dehstroy was his mentor. Hard, brutal, unforgiving. He had taken him under his wing, taught him the ins and outs of fighting and how to get the money shot on the particularly nasty beasts hanging around these parts. He never knew the man to smile, but then, what was there to smile about when you were sentenced to eternity in the depths of Hell itself?

  His first battle had been against hell hounds like the ones they had just finished slashing their way through. He had just finished the grueling training the men of the Brotherhood were forced to endure, his skin in tatters and short a few pints of blood. His muscles were weak from weeks of endless practice, when he was turned loose
.

  Dehstroy stood alongside Persephone, who had decided to make an appearance for the first time since the change. Hers was a face he had welcomed at the time, not knowing the foul creature she was beneath the mask.

  A cruel smile lit her face, and she waggled her fingers at him. His mouth crooked, intent on returning the gesture when a sound of scraping and snarling sounded behind him.

  Erias whirled around with just enough time to and glimpsed several dogs descending on him before he was floored by their massive paws. His back hit the red sand with a thwap! And he watched in horror as his sword skittered just out of reach.

  He struggled against their weight, his arms shaking in protest, their jaws snapping at his face. Pushing back against their thickly corded chests, he summoned the reserves of his strength, bashing his head into one hound’s face and shoving the beast from him.

  Shaking off the unexpected blow, Erias had just enough time to recover his footing and retrieved his sword before the hounds were stalking him again.

  He heard Persephone cheering behind him and thought for a moment that she was rooting him on. He focused on her words, searching for the strength to continue, but was disgusted with what he heard.

  “Get him! Yes! Get him, Cerberus! Take a chunk out of his hide!”

  “Cerberus?” Erias said on a low breath. Then, with stunned realization, he finally took in what he was up against.

  Not several dogs, but one. One really huge, really ugly dog with three heads. They growled in succession, their heads swaying and coiling around one another in an eerie dance that he couldn’t make sense of. With one swift movement, it leapt forward, knocking his legs out from under him.

  Erias landed on his knees and immediately rolled away, narrowly missing the crushing foot that stomped down where he had just laid.