by RS Black
“He came to me and we had a very enlightening conversation.”
“What!” I exploded. We were far enough away that even if anyone heard me they wouldn’t think anything of it, but I wouldn’t have cared if I’d been caught. I slapped Dean. Slapped him so hard the palm of my hand stung. “How dare you!” I went to slap him again, but he caught my wrist.
“I’ll give you one. But don’t push it, Dorrie. Friendly only gets you so far.”
Furious, I tore my hand away from his. “You go and you freaking tattle on me to the doc, questioning my loyalty to him, and then when I try to prevent my family from finding me, you fuc—”
He sighed, acting as if I bored him. Which only pissed me off more. “Pan-Ya, you really need to get your tantrums under control. Figure out who you’re going to be, please.” His intense gaze drilled into mine.
I shook my head, dragging my claw along my bicep in agitation. “Why would you talk to him? You know I’m bound—”
He gave me a “yeah, and?” look.
Shrugging my shoulders, I tossed up my hands. “What exactly are you hoping is going to happen here? I’m a slave to the Triad, Dean. I want my family safe. I told them I’d be their lackey, do everything they said so long as they left them alone. Last night I made sure Ash would stop nosing around, then you screw everything up. I’ve done everything asked of me. I’ve killed. I’ve bled, I’ve—”
“Dear God.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will you just take a breath and relax for a second.”
I snapped a finger under his nose, wishing I could do so much more than just wag it at him. “Don’t tell me to relax. Don’t even tell me that. You know as well as I do what I’m about to become. What I’m going to lose. You, who talked to me about life rafts and second chances, well, here I am, Dean. Completely lost and beaten, so don’t fucking talk to me about relaxing. I’ll do what I’ve been designed to do, but don’t expect me to smile while I burn in Hell for it.”
He licked his lips. “All this time together, and still, you’ve learned nothing. I’ve told you to open your eyes. To see what’s really going on. There is always a choice. There has to be. That, my dear Pandora, is the truth. There is always a choice to be made. It’s the one absolute in life.”
“So someone gets cancer, that’s their choice?” I scoffed.
“No.” His jaw clenched. “But what they do after diagnosis is. Lay down and die or fight, fight like hell. There’s the choice.”
Bitter laughter spilled from my lips. “I hate you and hate whoever it is you fucking work for, because this isn’t a choice. I don’t have any choices.”
His fingers dug roughly into my shoulders, just this side of violent, shaking me, whipping my head back and forth. I could have broken his hold, but I felt suddenly delirious with the ugly reality that was my life.
“Fight like hell,” I said when he finally let me go, “but still face the possibility of death. You’re a sadist, Dean. A true sadist. There is no hope in that.”
“There is always hope. Hope for more. Hope for something far greater, far more beyond this. Because even though you have cancer you’re still alive, you’re still with us, you’re still you. That is the choice. Be you, Pandora. Don’t forget you. Or”—he shrugged—“forget you and be Ya-El. I won’t stop you from either choice. I’m here merely as an observer.”
“Observer, my ass. Because I have a feeling that if I choose to be my darkness you will end me.”
He grinned. “Or it might be the other way around. You never can quite tell with me. I have my orders, Pandora, and I will fulfill them one way or another.”
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. That what you’re telling me?”
“I’m telling you to look at the truth. The real truth. Not what everyone is telling you, but what you’re telling yourself.”
“Why did you tell the doctor what I said?”
“Simple.” He grin grew broader. “I have my orders.”
“Can I even trust you?”
Dean snorted. “My dear, sweet Dorrie, you should never trust me.” The red rim of his eyes glowed.
Sick and tired of feeling like a helpless pawn in this war, I did something reckless and stupid. But hey, reckless and stupid was pretty much my middle names.
I channeled my fury into flirtation, nudging my petulant Lust into action. “Someday, Dean, I’m gonna be so far under your skin you’re never gonna want to let me go,” I said, quoting a line straight from one of my favorite movies ever, Pretty Woman.
“Understand this, demon girl.” His voice dropped to a pitch that could only mean he meant business. “That day will never come.”
It was my turn to smile.
Which seemed to totally throw him, because he frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“If I could make a Death Priest bend to my will, do you honestly believe that you’re any different? You forget who I am.” I trailed a nail along his square jaw, leaning in so close that we shared air for a moment.
And though Lust just wasn’t that into him, she also had enough pride in her to make her do my bidding this once. She flooded the air with her pheromones. Pumping it full of my chemical concoction that was meant to make anything, and I mean anything, desperate for one touch of me.
When I looked into Dean’s eyes, I saw who he wanted me to become. And, surprise surprise, I wasn’t far off the mark.
He liked ’em dark haired, with pale alabaster skin that gleamed like milk in moonlight and eyes the color of the sky at sunset. I almost laughed when his pupils dilated, when the skin beneath my fingertip flexed and the hand resting on his thigh clenched up.
“You’re not strong enough to do this,” he grunted.
I did laugh then. It was a low sound, but it was full of shivering tendrils of power. I mock pouted. “Oh, my beautiful Death, when are you going to learn I’m not that weakling you used to know? You always preach about how truthful you are, and yet you’d lie to yourself now. Just remember this—you screw me, and I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” I feathered my lips over his. “Leave Asher alone.”
But though I knew he wanted me, he did nothing. That was okay, though Pride prickled inside me. I wasn’t ruled by any one demon. As old a Neph as I was, I was well versed in men. For some guys, it was all about the lay. But for a rare few, it was the chase that did them in.
Dean was definitely a chaser. I might not be able to kill him, but there were ways to torture a man, ways I happened to know well.
I grinned when he shuddered. Oh yeah, I knew men. Even the horseman kind.
It took him less than five seconds to gather his wits, and when he did he seemed none too pleased with me. He was definitely not the garden-variety mark I was used to.
“There’s a game, Pandora, and we all must play our part. And as for Asher, you don’t need to worry about keeping him away anymore. I made sure of that.”
That was all he said to me for over an hour after that. I wanted to ask him to explain—man, did I ever—but talking to Dean for any length of time always gave me a headache. We went to separate sides of the crate, him looking to our right and me to the left, neither one of us really wanting to be in each other’s company at present.
A whistle mimicking birdsong rang in my ears before Dean finally broke the silence. “At my nine.”
When I turned to look, I saw what’d caught his attention. It could be none other than Ivan the terrible himself. Not just for the fact that he had a wicked scar, but the jeweled teal eyes were a dead giveaway.
“That man ain’t just human,” Dean muttered.
“No shit, Sherlock.” I rolled my eyes at that. “Took me all of a second to figure that out.”
Giving me an evil glare, he nodded. “I’ve seen those eyes before. Doc Dick either wasn’t given proper intel or he’s testing us.”
“Well?” I growled. “You planning to tell me anytime soon, or you just gonna keep monologuing me to death.”
Plowing on, as if d
etermined to ignore my prickly mood, Dean said, “I hope you’re ready to get those pretty boots wet, Dorrie, ’cause we got us a lower-caste demon here, and if I’m not mistaken—which I never am—he’s one of Pride’s own.”
I frowned. “Pride has gold eyes.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Only the Neph do. LCD can have whatever eye color they want. And Ivan, also known as Cacus, is one nasty sonofabastard.”
My nostrils flared. None of this was making sense. “Why is an LCD guarding a map? Don’t they have better work to do, like, I dunno, wreaking anarchy?”
“And just what do you think holding map one of three that lead us directly to the Gates of Hell is, exactly?”
I rolled my eyes, refusing to say the words. Obviously. “But why isn’t he using it to open it himself, or going in search of the others?”
“Because he’s a minion, my dear. Daddy Pride told him to stay put and so he is, like a good little troll.” Turning to me until our chests bumped, he said, “Dorrie, tonight you become a woman.”
“I’ve fought LCD before, you prick.” I took a giant step away from him. I hated when Dean invaded my space like that. He was clearly getting me back for what I’d done to him earlier.
Whatever.
“Again, you dim-witted fool—”
I gnashed my teeth.
“—he is not just any LCD, and I can’t be of any help to you here. So go on your merry way, and don’t come back until you have the map.” He waved me off with a flick of his fingers.
“What the eff?” My stomach was a churning cesspit of fire. Gluttony and Pestilence both roiled inside me, filling my limbs with adrenaline and my mind with images so gruesome I refused to mention them. “You’re going to just send me out alone?”
“The game, Dorrie. The game.” And so saying, he plopped his ass down on the crate and gave me a bored look. “And you’d better hurry it up, because you’ve got company.”
“What?” I turned, expecting to see maybe other demon hordes after the prize, but what I saw instead turned the saliva in my mouth to sawdust. “Ash,” I whimpered.
There could be no mistaking the tight ball of shadow that slinked along the dock. How did he know about Ivan, or—
“Oh my God, I could kill you.” I spat by Dean’s thigh, missing my mark by half an inch.
He did not look amused.
“You told him.”
“Yeah, I told him. And you know what? If you love him like you claim you do, you might want to get down there, because shit’s about to hit the fan, and your boy toy’s waaaay out of his depth.”
There was no time to punch Dean for what he’d done. Or even to snap at him. I jumped off the dock, running in Ivan’s direction, desperate that he see me first and not Asher.
There was really no plan to this other than to be a decoy. But Asher was closer and Dean hadn’t been lying when he’d called Cacus a mean son of a bastard.
Moving so fast that they were nothing but a blur of dark light, Cacus ripped Asher out of his blanket of darkness and slammed him down to the ground.
None of the humans even stopped to stare. All of them kept their eyes ahead, looking neither left nor right. Clearly Cacus ran this show, and he’d either hypnotized the mortals, or he’d stripped them of their will, but they were useless pawns only good for moving whatever it was they dealt in around here.
My heart was in my throat when I saw Cacus bent over Asher’s twisted and broken body, his arms and legs very clearly broken and bent at odd angles. Cacus’ hands were poised to squeeze the life out of him.
Asher was powerful. He’d once killed an LCD with his blade. But this keeper was something else entirely. I didn’t know just what Cacus could or would do, but I knew Chaos had been nothing compared to him.
“Hey!” I yelled.
Cacus snapped up, his teal eyes glowing with flame. His demon was fully aroused and I wasn’t sure even I’d be much of a match for him.
“You cannot have the map,” he snapped, hand immediately going to a pendant at his neck. “I will kill you both.” His thick Russian accent made it hard to understand him.
This LCD was intensely serious and I found myself hating Dean all over again.
Shoving my shoulders back, I thrust my chin up and gave the demon a cold, hard look. Fear had always brought out the recklessness in me. The demon souls inside me screamed for release.
All the doubt and fears I’d felt just moments ago evaporated under the sweet wave of all that power. I wasn’t who I’d been. I was so much more.
“Pandora.” Asher’s voice was a broken whisper. “Don’t. You don’t understand what he is.”
Cacus reached over and backhanded him brutally. Asher dropped like a sack of stones to the ground. I felt breathless with a sudden rush of anxiety. Asher was no weakling. And yet he lay there like he was little more than a mortal.
Neither Dick nor Dean had really prepared me for this thing. Mind moving a mile a minute, I stalked steadily forward, snaring the demon’s attention once again, taking my time to study him instead of barreling in like Ash had done.
Cacus grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of Asher’s blood behind. “Come, sweetling, come taste my power.”
I cocked my head. “How’d you know we were coming?”
It was odd that Cacus didn’t seem in the least bit surprised by any of this. Why was that? Had Dean tipped him off just as he’d done with Ash?
He tapped his head. “I felt it.”
Empath? Maybe?
Mind reader? Only one way to know for sure.
Hey, douche, you look like a pile of steaming horse dung. I shot that thought at the teal-eyed freak like an arrow. But I got no reaction out of him. So either the barb had failed to make its mark, or...not a mind reader.
I circled closer, keeping my arms out by my sides as I forced Cacus to backpedal so that I could draw closer to Asher.
From the corner of my eye I could see that he was still out cold. What the hell had this bastard done to Ash?
I smiled. “I’m going to get that map.”
Cracking his knuckles, he rolled his neck from side to side, like a boxer in the ring getting ready to pound the life out of me. I kept my breathing even and my movements steady.
Cacus was like a cobra ready to strike at the slightest provocation. I wasn’t gonna let him until I had Asher’s body shielded. What was Dean thinking, sending Asher in alone this way? But as much as I wanted to dwell on my hatred for the bony man, there just wasn’t time.
“I think I can take you.” I eyed his svelte form. Though I knew in my line of work that looks could definitely be deceiving. He’d taken Ash down like he’d been nothing but a child.
There were no markings on Cacus to help me understand what he was—only Asher’s words that he wasn’t what I thought he was ringing in my ears.
“You wouldn’t be the first to think so, Lust.” His voice dripped disdain even as he sniffed appreciatively, like one would a fine glass of wine. “The power rolling off you—I think I will enjoy this greatly.”
He felt my power?
I hadn’t thought to mute it.
Damn me for just running into this headlong.
I was going to kill Dean when this was over.
Wrath and Pride were beating down my doors, wanting their chance at him. I still didn’t have a clue what Cacus really was, but I’d managed to push him several yards away from Asher’s body and that was good enough for now.
With a smile, I let my demons loose inside me, feeling their power run through me like a violent surge.
“Thank you,” Cacus snarled. I didn’t even have a moment to understand that statement when he’d traced to my side, slammed his palms down on my face and sucked my power dry. Like I’d been an electrical spark and he the battery, I felt the pulse of me inside of him.
Gasping, I dropped to my knees as a volley of hammer-fists rained down on my head, pounding me into the pavement, breaking my
bones with a snap and a crack. Cacus was a surger.
There was no time to even wonder why Dean had kept that from me—knowledge that could save my life or mean my death. If I’d known what Cacus was I would never have unleashed my strongest demons on him.
I rolled away from the fists as best I could, but there was only so much I could do. He’d stolen my powers. What he’d done, it was only temporary, but temporary was good enough when the stakes were this high.
Coughing and choking on my own blood when he gave me a liver shot, I doubled in half. I was going to die, right here on this slick, dirty blacktop. He’d reach inside my chest, rip out my heart and tear off my head and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
There were so many other demons inside me, but if I let them loose, he’d only get stronger. This was the ultimate catch-22: lie here and do nothing, or give him what I got. Literally.
A fist connected with my lip, splitting it open and filling my mouth with the metallic tang of my own blood. Teeth came sailing out.
I was one giant ball of exposed nerve endings. Every inch of me throbbed as he had his way with me.
Lust, stupid bitch that she was, could have probably helped, but she was hiding again. Envy. Gluttony. Sloth. And Greed, all of them he’d turn on me. I’d be helpless, I’d be...
As Cacus crushed my face beneath his boot, a flash of bloated bodies and ravaged, diseased skin rolled through my mind. An oily, slick sheen of a demon that wasn’t one of the deadly seven made itself known.
Pestilence.
I laughed as Cacus knocked another molar out. Pestilence would take me down, but He sure as hell would take this MF’er down with me.
With a cry, I opened my body to the diseased creature and when Cacus surged it out of me, he stumbled back, blinking heavily and staring at me with dawning horror.
I’d called forth the worst disease I could think of off the top of my head: a super virulent strain of malaria. I myself was wracked with fever, my bones aching, and not just from the crazy beating I’d just taken.
Cacus dropped to one knee, staring at his hand in dawning horror. “What did you do to me?” His skin was turning a ghostly shade of white before my eyes.