The Darkest Pleasure (6 page)

Without Grandma Mallory?

This time, she couldn’t stop the sob. Her chin trembled and her jaw ached. Warm tears flowed down her cheeks freely.

“Help me,” Stefano added earnestly. “In return, I’ll help you. I’ll guard you and your family until every single one of the Lords is dead. Those demons will never hurt you again. You have my word of honor.”

To know her family was safe and would remain safe…She wouldn’t have cared about the terms of the deal even if she had
to sign her soul over to the devil. The hope that Stefano could help her mother and sister was irresistible. The thought of revenge was overwhelming.

“What do I have to do?”

O
NE AT A TIME
,
Lucien flashed most of the warriors to an abandoned building. They were inside the fortress in Budapest one second, night all around them, and someplace sunny and warm the next.

Lucien flashed Reyes last. Last time he’d been transported like this, he’d vomited. This time, his concern for Danika overcame even the slightest bit of nausea.

Inhaling dust and crumbling plaster, Reyes opened his eyes. The silver stone of the fortress had disappeared, the comforts of hearth and home gone. Bare gray walls, cement floors and piles of lumber now greeted him. Several windows were cracked; black garbage bags had been taped to them but now fell halfway, as if bowing, allowing the men to peer into an unknown world of…silence and stillness, he realized, hearing nothing and seeing no one.

The others stalked the building, searching for a hidden enemy, blades and guns raised and ready for action. All but Anya, who’d come in place of Maddox, wore expressions of confusion. A few muttered, “Where are the Hunters?”

“Not here,” Lucien answered.

“Where are we?” Reyes asked quietly. His own blades were pressed against his thighs. Urgency swam laps in his bloodstream.

“The States.” Sabin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “L.A. is my guess. No place else has the stench of Hollywood.”

“Correct,” Lucien said with a grim nod.

“Hunters have a large faction here.” There was relish in the undertones of Sabin’s voice. “A faction I despise with every ounce of my being. The leader and I have history, and he despises me, too, so be ready for anything. He joined the Hunters after his wife and I…” He shrugged, some of his anticipation muted by sorrow. “We were together, but I’m not good for humans and things ended badly. Hunters recruited him, and he’s been gunning for me ever since.”

Sabin and his men had been battling Hunters far longer than Lucien and his group had. Paris, Maddox, Torin, Aeron and Reyes had split with Sabin, Strider, Gideon, Cameo, Amun and Kane several thousand years ago.

Their friend Baden, keeper of Distrust, had been brutally murdered by Hunters. After revenge had been meted out, half of the Lords had desired peace. What was better for a battered soul than a cessation of the constant struggle between good and evil, darkness and light? The other half had desired Hunter blood spilling into the streets of ancient Greece, crimson rivers of pain and terror.

Unable to come to terms, they’d gone their separate ways. Until Sabin brought the blood feud to Budapest, that is.

Though Reyes had walked away all those years ago, he would not, could not, do so now. He was involved, the illusion of peace forever shattered. Hunters had recently cut Torin’s throat, attempting to weaken him and capture everyone else. Thankfully, those Hunters had failed.

Reyes would
not
fail in his mission.

Whatever he had to do to destroy his enemy, he would do. And if he had to destroy the gods who might very well support the Hunters’ quest, eventually he would find a way to do that, too.

It was hard to know the gods’ ultimate goal, however. Fickle and mysterious, they were like a puzzle missing several key pieces. While the silent Greeks had angered Reyes with their neglect, the cryptic Titans edged him toward a murderous rage.
They claimed to want harmony for the world, both in the heavens and below. They claimed to desire worship and adoration, freedom from death and destruction. And yet they had ordered Danika’s execution. They’d even ordered Anya’s execution, though they’d since changed their minds. And what they were doing to Aeron…

Do not venture down this path. Not here, not now.
Already his nails were elongated, pinpricks pressing into his palms. Red spots winked over his vision, and the demon whispered seductively:
Cut yourself. Hurt.

“No,” he gritted out.

“This way,” Lucien was saying, but he paused when Reyes spoke and peered at him quizzically. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I am fine.” When Danika was safe and tucked in his bed, he would feed his demon. Until then, there would be no hurting himself. Blood loss ultimately would weaken him, and he needed to be at top strength for the coming combat.

But for every second he resisted, the demon would grow louder and louder. Reyes knew that well. He would become more and more distracted. That was the bane of his demon-curse. He needed to cut himself, but in the end he weakened like any other being when injured, albeit temporarily.

“What were you saying?” he asked Lucien.

Every gaze shifted to him.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “The girl is being held one street over. Innocents fill the area, so we will have to be careful.”

He didn’t care about innocents. Cold and callous of him, but then, he’d never been a soft, easy man. Well, that wasn’t true. In the years before his pairing with Pain, he remembered laughing and joking with his friends. “How many Hunters are with her?” A muscle ticked in his jaw as he thought of the suffering she might even now be enduring.

Whatever was done to Danika, Reyes would retaliate a hundredfold when facing the Hunters. He might hate his demon for
the torment he constantly endured, but he wouldn’t hesitate to hand over the reins of control so that the creature could unleash its powers. Not today. Pain could look into a human’s soul, find every vulnerability, even the tiniest chink, and systematically scrape each one with poisoned arrows until the human was screaming, writhing, clawing at his skin to stop the agony.

“Earlier today,” Lucien said, “there were twenty-three in the building.”

“They multiply like rabbits.” Sabin grinned, and the sight of it was pure wickedness. “Could be a hundred more by now.”

Lucien motioned to the far window, his dark hair swaying at his temples. “We have several hours until nightfall. I will flash to the building, remain in the spirit world and listen. Observe. We need to know what she’s told them, and we need to know what they’re planning.”

All Reyes heard was “several hours.” “We’re supposed to stay here?” he growled. “Do nothing?”

“Yes.” Lucien eyed him now, those mismatched orbs swirling once more. “If they are monitoring the area, I will disable their computers. Then, at dark, when humans are less likely to notice your height, your build and your weapons and send policemen after you, you will walk there. I’ll be waiting for you in the shadows outside.”

More inactivity. More waiting.

The knowledge was both emotionally and physically painful for him. Reyes wanted to lash out, punch something, and that he couldn’t…the demon fed off that corporal agony and demanded more. Wanted control.

Soon,
he promised.

This was one of the many reasons Reyes had sent Danika away and one of the few reasons he should not be here to rescue her. She roused him
and
the demon as surely as if she were rattling a stick against a hungry animal’s cage.

If he gave his demon free rein as it craved, he would lose
control of his actions. What if he hurt Danika? What if he enjoyed hurting her? Smiled while beating her bones to powder? What if he killed her, the very act he’d locked his best friend away for even contemplating?

He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, knowing he’d destroyed something so…precious. Yes, he realized then. She was precious to him. She was the angel to his demon, the good to his evil. The pleasure to his pain. And she was inside a Hunter stronghold, bound, helpless…suffering.

Once again red winked over his vision and rather than welcome it he now fought it. Damn this! There could be no giving over to his demon side, then, not even to battle the Hunters. Reyes would have to maintain command.

Someone slapped him on the back, jostling him from his musings. “Save it, my friend,” a female said.

Calm, settle.
Reyes turned his head and found himself staring down at Cameo, keeper of Misery and the only female Lord. He quickly looked away. With her long black hair, silver eyes and skin like peaches and cream, she was beauty incarnate. She was also a strong, fierce warrior despite her delectable little body. It was hard to face her, though, when all of the world’s unhappiness seemed to seep from her pores and into his heart.

“We’ll retrieve her safely,” Cameo said, meaning to comfort him but only managing to make his chest ache. “Don’t worry.”

Gods, her voice. He tried not to cringe while the demon inside him sighed, liking the pain she unwittingly inflicted. Why couldn’t Reyes have been attracted to
her?
Would have made his life easier.

You’re hurting now only because the subject being discussed is Danika.
Much as his demon enjoyed physical pain, Cameo represented an avalanche of emotional turmoil and dysfunction. So no, wanting her would not have been easier. Her tragic voice could drive any man to suicide and Reyes tried to kill himself enough already.

“Hunters once abducted a lover of mine,” she said.

Reyes rubbed his chest. Someone had actually slept with her? “And you were able to save him?”

“Oh, no. He died horribly. They cut out his heart and mailed it to me.”

Reyes blinked against a surge of panic, but didn’t face her again.
That won’t happen to Danika.
He scanned the building, breathing in and out, slowing his wild pulse, calming again. Lucien was already gone, and the others were sitting along the edges of the walls, polishing their weapons with lethal efficiency.

Finally, he trusted himself to speak without screaming. “That little story is supposed to soothe me?”

“Yes. They bested us once in this manner. We won’t allow them to do so again.”

Small comfort. Even now, a fist could be flying toward Danika’s face, a foot toward her stomach. A whip arching toward her back. A knife sliding into her organs. She could be sobbing for him to save her. And here he was, close, but waiting, leaving her helpless.

The knowledge was intolerable.

He stalked away from Cameo. Back and forth he paced. Should he ignore Lucien’s command and attack now?
Let him work. He knows what he’s doing
.
He’ll come for you if she’s placed in any sort of danger.

Even knowing that, time passed with agonizing slowness, every tick of the clock a torturous beat. Only when the sun began to wane, dulling from bright gold to hazy pink, from hazy pink to deep purple and finally blessed gray, did he relax.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Paris remarked. “Fidgety, distracted.”

“Hopefully you won’t see me like this again.”

“I’m sending a prayer heavenward that
I
never look that way,” Sabin muttered. “Not that it’ll do any good. Still.”

Strider grinned. “But you’re so pretty when you’re in love.”

Sabin flipped him off.

Love? Was Reyes capable of such an emotion? “Night has fallen. Let’s go.” He pounded toward the front door.

Anya latched on to his arm, her fingernails digging into his bare flesh. “Hold it right there, sweetness. You don’t know the way.”

He barely managed to plant his feet into the concrete. “And you do?”

“Of course.” Her nails sank deeper, cutting skin, and he nearly moaned at the heady sting. “Lucien tells me everything.”

“Guide us, then, but do it now. I won’t spend another second inside this building, and I
will
break into every shop, home and structure that I encounter if necessary.”

“So impatient.” She
tsked
under her tongue and released him. “I admire that in a man. Just…keep up with me. If you can.”

With that, she claimed the lead. Everyone else filed out behind her. Overwarm, stuffy air became cool and fragrant, a mix of good and bad aromas: fresh flowers, car exhaust, baked breads and cloying perfume. Multihued lights pulsed from signs—Nude Dancers Here—and horns blared in a hurried symphony. Footsteps clomped in every direction, though nothing overshadowed the frantic dance of Reyes’s heart.

At one time, he had dreamed of traveling, of seeing this new world he’d hidden from for hundreds of years, but he had been bound to Budapest by Maddox’s curse. Now, he didn’t care about the world around him. He just wanted to reach Danika.

Though he and the others remained in the shade as much as possible, humans did notice them. Some jumped out of their way, some stared. Most grinned, seemingly fascinated. Not the typical mortal reaction; even the Buda townspeople were more respectful than friendly.
Hollywood,
Sabin had said. Reyes realized these humans thought the men were part of a movie.

A few times, Paris stopped to steal a kiss from a willing
female. He was as helpless against his demon as Reyes was, so when Promiscuity wanted to play, Paris took time to play. Otherwise, he weakened unbearably. But for the first time in all their years together, Paris did not look as if he enjoyed the kissing.

Reyes didn’t slow, didn’t wait for his friend or ask him what was wrong. Urgency pounded through him, harder and more intense with every slap of his boots against concrete. Anya turned a corner, her long pale hair a beacon in the night. Down a dirty alley she escorted them, the scent of urine suddenly saturating the air.

When she turned the next corner, she tossed an anticipatory smile over her shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

Reyes palmed his gun and a knife. They were so familiar to him, so much a part of him, they were almost a natural extension of his hands.
Not much longer now and you’ll see her.
Soon, very soon, the battle would begin.

He would not leave a single survivor.

Around him, he could feel the adrenaline surges of his friends. War was a part of them, infused in their every cell. They’d been made for it, after all.

The Greeks, their creators, had known the ease with which a heavenly being could be toppled, for they themselves had fought and imprisoned the Titans. In an effort to protect themselves from the same fate, the Greeks used the blood of the god of war to breed immortal warriors, and thereby an army of defenders.

After the
dimOuniak
tragedy, with Pandora slain, the box missing and the demons locked inside the warriors responsible, the gods had banished them to earth. New warriors had been recruited to take their place. Not that they’d done the Greeks any good in the end, Reyes thought with a satisfied smile.