Читать книгу The Darkest Torment - Gena Showalter - Страница 17

7

“Dude. You should not have put a ring on it.”

—Bianka the Terrible, Harpy from Clan Skyhawk

KATARINA’S MIND THREATENED to shut down. Too much to process! She couldn’t have...how had...no, no, there were zero ways what she thought had happened could have actually happened. But truth was truth, and like any apex predator, it could defend itself. She’d traveled from one location to another in only a blink. Without taking a step. Without being carried. Without flying inside a plane or driving in a car. Just boom, the scenery had altered.

Baden had been honest about his origins, hadn’t he? He really was immortal. And if he was immortal, he was also formerly demon-possessed—was now playing host to some kind of beast. A beast with an insatiable craving for violence.

Her hand fluttered over her throat. He said he worked for Hades...who was the ruler of the underworld, according to mythology.

Hello, vertigo. We meet again.

“The coin,” Baden barked at Alek.

Alek gave a violent shake of his head, the barrel of his gun wavering. “I don’t know where it is, someone must have stolen it.”

“You lie. Unfortunately for you, I tolerate only one liar in my life.” Baden pulled a dagger from the sheath in his belt. How many other weapons were hidden on his body? “And Gideon is way better at it than you.”

“Go to hell.” Alek squeezed the trigger. Pop! Pop! Pop!

As Baden jerked from impact, Katarina covered her mouth to silence a scream. Anyone else would have fallen, but he didn’t flinch or even stumble.

What he did? Stalk across the room and turn the gun while it remained in Alek’s grip. He pressed his finger over Alek’s and forced her miserable excuse of a husband to shoot himself in the shoulder.

Alek—a mere human—toppled into his chair, blood spurting from his wound.

Men banged at the door, but it was locked and barred from the inside. No one could enter. No one could help him.

His own safety measures would aid his downfall.

“Last chance,” Baden said, as calm as if they were discussing today’s lunch menu.

Almost hysterically, she thought: Death with a side of pain.

“I can’t give it to you.” Alek panted for breath. “I just can’t.”

“You can. You choose not to, and you’ll forever regret it.” He dropped the gun on the desk and very slowly, very deliberately moved in front of Alek. He still held the dagger. “I am not a liar. I told you I’d take something else you value. Today, you lose a hand.”

Alek tried to stand and run. Baden contained him easily and with a quick, downward swing, chopped through his wrist. Just—like—that. The hand plopped on the floor, and an agonized scream echoed from the walls.

Slak to trafil! Baden had done it. He’d really done it. The viciousness of the action...the sight of the blood...the stench it released into the air... Katarina clutched her stomach.

Baden wiped the dagger on Alek’s cheeks, leaving smears of crimson behind. “Get me the coin or tomorrow I’ll take a foot.” He returned the weapon to his belt before closing in on Katarina.

She backed up. “What are you doing? You said we’d only spend one night together.”

His gaze narrowed. “I hoped we’d part. I was wrong.”

“I’m not going with you.” She couldn’t leave Alek a second time. He’d just lost a hand, he was in pain, and he would be enraged, violent; he would hurt her dogs just because.

“I insist.”

“And I pass.” She faked left and darted right, closing in on Alek. “Where are they?” Her voice cracked with desperation. In the back of her mind, she understood she’d just handed the immortal—and unstoppable—Baden information about her. Information he could use against her. But she was beyond caring. The need to save her animals far outweighed the need to protect herself. “Tell me!”

Alek gasped for breath he couldn’t catch and clutched his spurting limb to his chest. Tears of pain streamed down his chalk-white cheeks. With his uninjured arm, he reached for...the gun? Did he fear her now? He should!

Merciless, she pushed the weapon, photos and computer to the floor. She leaped onto Alek’s lap and cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze to meet hers. “Tell me where they are, or I’ll remove your other hand.” She would do it, too. Without hesitation. She might hate herself, might retch before, during and afterward, but she would do anything for answers.

“Tell me!” she shouted, shaking him.

“Let him go,” Baden commanded. He always commanded, but this time he wasn’t getting his way.

“Tell me!”

“Dead. They’re...dead,” Alek said through chattering teeth, shock setting in. “Killed...last night.”

No, no, no. No! She couldn’t believe...wouldn’t believe... “You wouldn’t have acted so soon—”

“Was going to...use them to find you...but they attacked...had to...put down.”

Her gaze homed in on the bite marks that littered his arms. Marks he’d been without yesterday. The dogs must have smelled her scent on his clothing—smelled her desperation—and acted out to protect her. To save her. And he’d killed them for it.

Rage bubbled over, spilling through her. She hammered her fists into his ugly, wretched, despised face. He was too weak to dodge her and couldn’t shield himself from the blows, could only sit there and take what she dished out. His teeth scraped her knuckles, and his bones cracked hers, but she didn’t care, couldn’t stop, would never stop. Her babies...dead...gone forever.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and wrenched her from Alek. “Enough, Katarina. You’ve hurt yourself.”

Baden’s calm voice only made her more furious.

“Hate you!” she spat at Alek, then at Baden. He’d absconded with her. If he’d left her behind, if he’d allowed her to remain with her despicable husband, the dogs would still be alive. “Hate you so much!” Using her captor as a pulley, she kicked out her legs, nailing Alek in the face. “Odjebat! You are horrible men! Horrible! And yet you live and they...they...”

Baden carried her around the desk, out of striking distance.

“Let me go!” She fought him with all of her strength, scratching his arms, punching, kicking. “Don’t you dare whisk me—”

The bunker vanished, a bedroom quickly taking shape around her.

She wrenched free and tried to orient herself. Little details hit her awareness. Masculine furnishings. A massive sleigh bed with a dark brown comforter. Aged stone walls, like those she’d seen when her family toured the abandoned castles in Romania and Budapest—when life was wondrous, happiness the norm. Wrought-iron sconces and a cracked marble fireplace boasting hand-carved roses.

Another prison? Well, this one was well earned. She hadn’t protected her babies. When they’d needed her most, she’d failed them. They’d died in pain, alone and afraid, after she’d promised to always protect them.

Guilt and sorrow joined the rage, leaching what remained of her strength, and her knees crumpled. She would have crashed into the floor if Baden hadn’t caught her and eased her down.

She kicked him. “Panchart! Don’t you dare touch me.” She’d tried to scream the words at him, but the lump in her throat caused her to whisper. “I hate you.”

He straightened and held up his gloved hands in a sign of surrender. A lie! This male never surrendered.

“Hate you,” she repeated. The toxic mix of emotions wrapped her in a cold embrace. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry so badly. The dogs deserved her tears, but there was no telltale burn in her eyes.

Baden rubbed the spot just above his heart. “You lost loved ones?”

For the first time in their acquaintance, there was a note of gentleness in his voice. A note she resented. Where had this softer side been as she’d begged him to let her search Alek’s homes?

“Katarina,” he prompted, still gentle.

“My dogs, the most precious fur babies ever born, are dead. Gone.” She didn’t even have pictures of them. The fire had destroyed physical copies, and Alek and Dominik had crashed her website. “They were murdered. And you are the man who prevented me from saving them. Does that please you and your beast?”

“No. I’m sorry, Katarina.” He crouched beside her and reached out, running a fingertip along the corner of her eye. Was he searching for a teardrop?

“Save your sorry and get out of my face, kretén.”

“Had I known—”

“Get out!”

He blanched, but stubborn bastard that he was, he remained in place.

The protective sheath around her heart suddenly cracked, all the rage, guilt and sorrow spewing out; the emotions became a gale force she couldn’t fight, destroying her.

She curled into a ball, shaking so forcefully her muscles soon gave out, her bones as limp as noodles. She hated anyone— especially this man—seeing her in such a helpless state, but she no longer cared to maintain a brave face.

“Katarina.” He reached for her again. “I need to—”

She rolled away, done with him, done with the conversation—done with life.

* * *

Besieged by helplessness, Baden plowed a hand through his hair. Katarina loved her dogs the way he loved his friends. All-encompassing. Never-ending. Nothing held back. He had no doubts about that. Even without a flood of tears, so much sadness and misery radiated from her, she rivaled Cameo.

In an attempt to save her dogs, Katarina had sacrificed her happiness and her future. And, during Baden’s short acquaintance with her, he’d repeatedly mocked her for it. He’d sneered at her and insulted her. His actions had even spurred Aleksander’s, leading to the untimely deaths of the animals.

She hated Aleksander, and she hated Baden. She had every right.

She’s just a means to an end. I don’t need her admiration.

But there was an ache in his chest now. One he couldn’t shake. He knew the horror of losing loved ones, of feeling as if you’d been dropped in the middle of an ocean during a turbulent storm, wave after wave crashing over you, rocks scraping you; again and again you swallowed too much water, but still you fought to breathe, to rise. The moment you breached the surface, hoping you were in the clear, you were swept under again.

How many centuries had passed before he’d stopped missing his friends? Trick question. He’d never stopped.

Far too vividly he remembered the centuries he’d been imprisoned, the rats his only friends. He’d adored those rats...had cried when he’d had to eat them to survive.

Survival before sentiment.

No, no. The rats...not Baden’s memory but Destruction’s.

With a grunt, Baden pulled at his hair. “You’ll be safe here, Katarina. You have my word.” He owed her, and he would pay his debt.

The beast began to utter a protest, only to quiet. The girl’s misery touched a chord in them both.

Silence met his pronouncement, somehow worse than a torrent of curses.

He’d brought Katarina to the fortress in Budapest. The other women would care for her, hopefully soothing her as they’d so often tried to soothe him; the men would guard her from any and every danger while Baden saw to Aleksander’s punishment. For killing the dogs, he would lose his eyes. To start.

Anticipation...

Suddenly the wreaths began to warm. Baden glanced down as a soft red glow pulsed from the metal.

Another summons from Hades.

Knowing what was coming, he raced to the door, shouting, “Maddox. Ashlyn. Anyone! Do not harm the—”

The fortress vanished, and the throne room materialized. Hades was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the siren. Instead, a black tornado swirled over the bottom step of the royal dais, a thousand screams assaulting Baden’s ears.

The tornado slowed...stopped, the wealth of black shadows thinning. Hades appeared in the center, standing over what might have been a body, the flesh and muscle picked off, the bone pitted. A bloody heart rested in his hand. He’d ditched the suit and tie in favor of a black T-shirt and leather pants, chains wrapped around both of his wrists.

From business formal to punk rock. The man was a chameleon.

Destruction played the quiet game, just as before, irritating Baden. “What do you want?”

Hades smiled, and there was blood on his teeth. “We’re just waiting on— Ah. There she is.”

A movement at Baden’s right. He twisted and came face-to-face with Pandora.

“You.” She scowled at him, her hair standing on end, her fangs beginning to grow. Claws extended from the ends of her nails.

Baden’s body expanded, preparing for battle.

“There will be no bloodshed in my throne room,” Hades announced. “Well, no more. Not today.”

His muscles locked onto his bones, preventing any kind of movement. The same freeze-frame clearly overtook Pandora, her expression strained as she fought the immobility.

Only when he made a conscious decision to stand down—won’t act, not here—did he gain his freedom.

“Now, then.” Hades stalked toward them. “You broke my only rule. You tried to kill my other slave.”

“You never said attempting to kill Baden was a problem,” Pandora replied. “Only that I’d be killed if I succeeded.”

How did he know of Pandora’s crime?

“Pippin.” Hades clapped his hands.

The white-robed man appeared in a puff of dark smoke. Like before, he clutched a stone tablet.

“Yes, sire.”

“What’s my only rule?”

“That there are no rules, sire.”

“And?” Hades prompted.

“And whatever else you decide, sire.”

“That’s right. Whatever else I decide.” Hades spread his arms, the very picture of smug masculinity. “I’ve decided even an attempt to kill each other is a punishable offense. You won’t be beheaded for it, even if you succeed, but you will be penalized—and wish I’d killed you instead.”

Baden swallowed a curse. “If you’re allowed to change your mind whenever you wish, how can we trust you’ll keep your word and liberate the winner?”

“Do you have any other choice?” The king pinched off a piece of the still-beating organ and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste. “Spy is so much better than chocolate.”

Pandora flinched, and Baden frowned. Had she sent someone to spy on Hades?

“Send another one, Pandy girl, and you won’t like what happens.” Hades dropped what was left of the organ and wiped his hands together.

Well. That answered that.

“Now,” the king said. “You’re lucky I have a heart today.” He kicked the one he’d dropped like it was a soccer ball. “I’m going to go easy on you. For attacking Baden, you are hereby stripped of your point.” He glared at Pandora, daring her to respond. “And you.” He focused on Baden, his anger seeming to double.

Baden waved his fingers, all bring it. He would not apologize for defending himself.

“You have yet to acquire my coin.”

That was the male’s beef? “This particular task requires time. Your words, not mine.”

Hades winced on Baden’s behalf. “Time, yes. Eternity, no. To speed things up, Pandora will aid you.”

A roar rose from deep in his chest. Calm. Steady. With or without the game, Baden would be the one to find the coin and slay Aleksander. My point. My right.

“I’ll ensure Pandora can flash to the male. In the meantime, I have a new task for you.” Hades held out his palm and Pippin placed a piece of stone in the center.

The stone caught fire, turned to ash and when that ash drifted Baden’s way, he inhaled it.

New images popped up in his mind. A bearded man with six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot. He had multiple scars on his arms. Thin straight lines, as if sliced by a blade.

Baden’s mind jumped the track to Katarina and her scars.

The pang returned to his chest. The pain she must have endured—

Stop. Concentrate!

New information continued to barrage him. The man was a sociopath, killing without concern for the age and gender of his victims. After every murder, he notched both of his arms as a memento.

Baden ran his tongue over his teeth. “What do you want me to do?”

“Bring me his head. Today.”

In the past, Baden had only ever killed during battle. And he’d never enjoyed it. This time, he thought he might cheer alongside the beast.

What gives you the right to be judge, jury and executioner?

Katarina’s words danced through his mind, and he frowned.

I have a mission to do, a point to earn. An evil act against an evil man.

Would Katarina understand? Would she castigate him for his actions?

Concentrate. Why did Hades want the head of a human?

The answer rose. The target played host to some sort of dark presence. Not a demon, not even a creature like Destruction. But something even worse. Something Lucifer hoped to obtain to use against Hades and give himself an edge in the war.

Baden would catch it and escort it to the underworld along with the head. Because, as much as he disliked Hades, he wouldn’t allow evil to roam free on the earth. Not if he could stop it. He would also do anything, even remain a slave, to prevent Lucifer from ruling supreme over any more territory.

“Consider it done. A point earned.” He pictured his target... flashed to a small log cabin. Despite the light cast by multiple kerosene lamps, doom-and-gloom tainted the air—or maybe the blame was the scent of rot.

Baden strode into the kitchen...found a dead body strapped to a long wooden table, the chest cavity opened, and several organs removed.

His target perched at the end of the table, eating what looked to be a liver. Nice. He was talking to the corpse.

“—was nekkid as a jaybird. I almost spit my soda—” He noticed Baden and grabbed the rifle propped against his chair. “You stay right thar, now, you heer.”

Baden flashed to his side, grabbed the gun and slammed the handle into his temple, then his yellowed teeth. Jab, jab. Impact sent him tumbling to the floor, but he wasn’t out for the count. He crab-walked backward, blood trickling down his face, catching in his dirty beard.

“Don’t be hurtin’ me. Please.” He tried to stealthily reach inside his boot, where a dagger hilt peeked out.

Thinks to stab me?

Baden flashed over and stomped on his hand, breaking the bones.

As a scream of agony cut through the air, Destruction laughed with delight—so did Baden. Then the man pissed himself, and one of the beast’s memories knocked on the door of Baden’s mind.

He fought to remain in the present...but he...he...the cabin was replaced by a cell. No longer a child but finally a man, he stalked to the first person he’d seen in centuries. The lord of the castle. The one who’d paid his mother a few measly coins for the privilege of “taming” him. The one who’d ordered his imprisonment when he’d resisted the taming.

The lord was draped in expensive velvets, with different medals pinned to his shoulders and chest. How many battles had he won? Countless. And yet, he urinated as the distance between them vanished, knew his time had come—

In the present, Baden’s feet were knocked out from under him. He blinked and shook his head, breaking the tight grip of the past. His target stabbed him in the chest and raced toward the front door.

Baden grabbed his ankle, tripping him. His jaw shattered, blood and what remained of his teeth spewing over the wood panels.

Smiling, Baden removed the dagger and stood. The man stayed down.