The Darkest Lie

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE OLD MATTRESS squeaked as the punked-out female thrashed atop it, lost in what was probably a bloody, violent nightmare. I'll have to thank Gideon's woman later, Strider thought, just in case she was responsible. And he didn't feel bad for the lack of compassion.

He had studied his bounty while she'd slept. Every inch of her, even peeling back her clothes for a look at all the hidden places. Weapons could be stored anywhere. Some would say he had no scruples, and he would agree. He didn't. Not with this woman. Never with this woman.

He now knew who she was, and she didn't deserve leniency from him. She deserved the sting of his blade.

There, lying on the small motel bed, locked with him in this tiny room, was Hadiee, the woman who had led Baden, keeper of Distrust, to his slaughter. She helped destroy my best friend!

The beheading had taken places thousands of years ago, and she'd been human. Or so he'd thought. Yet here she was, as young as she'd been back then. Which meant she was now immortal. Right? How it had happened, he didn't know. But he would find out. He would be finding out a lot of things from the bitch.

It had taken him a few hours to place her, 'cause yeah, the tattoos, piercings and pink streaks in her hair had thrown him. She hadn't looked like this back then. Her hair had been several shades lighter, a tumble of snowfall, and her skin glowing from the sun's kiss. She'd dressed in the rough, conservative garb of a servant, but that hadn't detracted from her prettiness.

He never would have placed her if not for the scoreboard tattooed on her back.

Lords: IIII Haidee: I

She'd split her back in two, one side for the Lords, one side for herself. He'd known exactly what the marks meant, too, because Baden had marked himself that way, as well. Bitch.

The four he and his friends had supposedly killed, he couldn't name. And yeah, he'd probably slain them. In all his many centuries, he'd slain thousands. The knowledge of that should have dulled his anger toward this woman. It didn't. Baden had been the best man Strider had ever known. The kindest to his friends, the most supportive and caring.

Being possessed by the demon of Distrust had changed him, of course, just as being possessed by such a dark force had changed all of them. But he'd been the first to come back to his senses. The one who had led everyone else to the light. He'd felt the guiltiest for the destruction the Lords had caused. He'd been the first to reach out, to try and make amends with humans.

He had also hated what he'd become more than any of the others. He'd hated that he distrusted himself, everyone around him, even his friends. Especially his friends. But that had only made Strider love him more. Baden had been Strider's salvation. Strider had wanted to be Baden's salvation.

Hadiee had destroyed that chance.

As the girl continued to thrash, eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading over her skin, arms and legs jerking at their ties, her cell phone rang. Strider grinned. He'd been hoping this would happen and didn't have to guess who was calling. The boyfriend. The leader of the Hunters who had been chasing him.

Strider reached out, swooped the cell from its perch on the table beside him and flipped it open. "Sorry," he said into the mouthpiece, "but your girlfriend's a little tied up right now and can't come to the phone."

There was a pause. A ragged breath and crackling static. "She's mine, you sick bastard! If you hurt her..."

Oh, yes. The boyfriend. "If?" Strider laughed with genuine amusement. "That's cute. Really it is."

Now there was a roar. "Which piece of evil shit are you?"

"Doesn't matter. All that matters is that this evil shit has your woman. And he isn't giving her back. Not unless it's in pieces."

More of that static crackled over the line, followed quickly by a loud boom, a curse. Loverboy must have punched the wall. "What do you want with her? What will you trade?"

"One thousand Hunter hearts. Oh, wait. Hunters don't have hearts. So I guess there's nothing I'm willing to trade for her."

"You dirty, filthy—" The human stopped himself, as if only then realizing Strider could punish his woman for everything he said. "She's a good person. She has a family. She—"

Anger blasted through him. "I'm a good person. I have a family." He could just imagine how the Hunter was gritting his teeth at that. "And yet she would have taken my head without hesitation. It's only fair that I reciprocate."

"You aren't good, and you know it. You're selfish and dark and ruined. You belong in hell."

Selfish? Dark? Yeah, no question. But ruined? Hardly. "I've done nothing but try to protect myself for thousands of years."

"And in that protecting—" the Hunter sneered "—you've killed my friends."

"Just as your woman killed mine." Now it was Strider's turn to punch something. He slammed a fist into the side table, splitting the wood. Boom!

A feminine gasp had his gaze moving back to his charge. He stilled. She'd stopped thrashing, was staring over at him through blazing gray eyes. "And believe me," he added calmly, "she will pay for that."

No reaction from Hadiee.

Her boyfriend, however, exploded. "She hasn't killed anyone! But I have. Trade her for me."

Did he not know her history? It seemed unlikely that the one person who'd succeeded in killing a Lord of the Underworld wouldn't have become the stuff of legend among her cohorts. "No, thanks," Strider said. "I like the hostage I've got."

The Hunter's fury overtook him, obliterating his common sense. "I will find you and I will kill you, you motherfucking son of a bitch!"

Slowly he grinned. "Now that sounds like a challenge. Good news is, I accept." Inside his head, his demon jumped up and down with excitement. "Find me and we'll have a little party."

Without removing his gaze from the girl, Strider closed the phone, reveling in the fact that he'd had the last word. He stood. Hadiee's murderous expression didn't change as he walked to the bathroom. He knew phones could be traced and tracked and wasn't going to allow that to happen here. Whistling, he crushed the plastic and wires into as many pieces as he could and flushed them down the toilet.

When he rejoined her, reclaiming his chair at the foot of the bed, he stretched out his legs and anchored his hands behind his head, a pose of smug relaxation. "Feeling better after your rest, darling Hadiee?"

Surprise darkened those gunmetal eyes. "You know who I am." A statement, not a question.

He answered anyway. "Yes."

"Well, no one calls me that anymore. I'm Haidee now. A minor change in spelling, but a big stride in modernization, don't you think? Defeat."

So. She knew who he was, as well. How did she, but not the boyfriend?

"Or you could just call me Executioner," she added, a taunt.

Rather than strike her as he wanted, he arched a brow. "I'll just call you Ex, then. Since you and I are going to be intimate, an endearment seems appropriate."

Surprise was replaced with anger. Once more, she began thrashing atop the bed, jerking at her ties. Her lips pulled back from her straight, white teeth, and she hissed over at him.

"Touch me and I'll peel the skin from your body."

"As if I'd touch you that way." He shuddered. He was not attracted to this female. Not in any way.

"Like I'd be stupid enough to believe a demon."

"No, you're only stupid enough to murder one."

No shame. No regret. Only a smile, dark and wicked, that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You say stupid. I say brave."

"But as I was saying," he continued past his sudden surge of rage, determined to scare her again, "I plan to intimately acquaint you with my weapons."

Funnily enough, that seemed to calm her. "You can try" was all she said.

"I'll do more than that." Before she could reply, probably to him again, he switched the direction of their conversation. "You've changed."

Her gaze raked over him, and she grimaced in distaste. "You haven't."

"Aw. Thank you." He flattened a palm over his heart. "That means so much to me."

"That wasn't a compliment," she snapped.

Good. He was getting to her. "Of course it was. I'm gorgeous."

"You're also a coward," she snarled. "A real man would have fought someone his own size."

He almost grinned. He'd been called worse. Maybe that was why insults like that never affected him. "Actually, I'm a very smart warrior. I took the weak link, yes, but now the rest of the chain will wither. Think about it. With your death, the men will go crazy. They'll be ruled by their emotions. They'll make mistakes. Fatal mistakes. All I'll have to do is wait, swoop in and kill them."

She didn't flinch at his words. Either she didn't believe he would actually kill a woman, which was stupid, since he'd done so before and as a Hunter, she had to know that, or she thought herself infallible. Which was...possible, he realized with a sudden blast of dread.

"I know you're more than human." His head tilted to the side as he ran his gaze along her compact little body. "What I don't know is what you are and how you got that way."

"And you'll never know," she replied, staunch once again.

"Doesn't matter, I guess. Even immortals can be cut down."

A smile curved the corners of her lips. Smug and satisfied and taunting. And this time, the amusement reached her eyes. "I know."

Two simple words, but they built a fire inside him that crackled and smoldered, spread and raged. So badly he wanted to stand, stalk to her and choke the life from her. He wanted to hurt her, make her suffer endlessly.

And he would.

He'd always been a possessive man. What he considered his was his. Women, cars, weapons, didn't matter. He didn't share. Ever. And right now he considered this woman his property and her misery his mission.

She was his to do with whatever he willed.

Whatever we will, his demon interjected.

So. Defeat wanted a piece of her, as well. Maybe Strider could share, just this once.

He schooled his expression to reveal nothing but calm. He thought perhaps there were red flickers in his eyes, showing just how close to the surface his demon now was, because Hadiee, no, Haidee, no, Ex, paled, blue lines becoming visible beneath her skin.

Inside his head, Defeat laughed, almost giddy, loving that the woman had been intimidated.

"Capturing you was the easiest thing I've ever done," he said. "Not a challenge at all. You're not much of a warrior, are you? Which makes me wonder why the men keep you around. Because they like to pass you around? Because you managed to kill a Lord, something none of your kind has been able to do again?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe I let you capture me. Maybe I'm still Bait, and now that we're together, I'll lead you into slaughter. But let the men use me? No. I'm with one, and he will punish you for this. You have my word."

"The word of a Hunter? Sorry, but that means nothing to me."

"If you think I'll beg you to let me go, you think wrong. If you think I'll cower at your feet, you think wrong. I will prevail."

"You can try," he said, parroting her earlier words to him.

Her teeth flashed in a scowl. "I'll do more than that. I'll give my man your head as a birthday present."

Most would have been crying by now. She was brave, as she'd claimed, he would give her that. "Clearly you don't know me well enough. To think you'll be alive for your lover's next birthday...well, you are a Hunter. I shouldn't have expected you to be intelligent."

Tendrils of mist drifted from her nostrils. At first, he thought he was mistaken. But no. That really was mist, crystallizing in front of her face. "Oh, I know you," she said. "You're Strider, keeper of Defeat. I've seen your picture, heard tales of your exploits. You burned cities to the ground, tormented innocents then destroyed their families."

The reminder caused a muscle to tick below his eye. "That was a long time ago."

She wasn't done. "You thrive on challenge. You can't lose without pain. Well, guess what? I don't think you can keep me in this room without having to tie me. I don't think you're strong enough."

What. A. Bitch. She wanted to challenge him, did she? She'd soon learn the error of her ways. He stood, stalked to the bed and withdrew a knife. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch as he lowered it toward her. She looked...eager. Ready to die.

What an odd reaction.

With quick precision, he cut each of the ties. Immediately she tried to bolt toward the door, but he caught her by the waist and flung her back onto the bed.

As she gasped, he jumped on top of her, weight smashing her down. She struggled, oh, did she struggle, teeth snapping at him, hands pounding at him, knees whipping a direct pathway to his shaft. Fuck!

He held on through the pain and dizziness and nausea and soon she tired, panting, sweating, more of that mist wafting from her.

That chilly mist smelled of...ambrosia, thick, flowery. Addicting.

"You really should think before you speak. You haven't been fed or watered." Like the animal she was. "You're too weak to take me."

When she stilled completely, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. He locked her legs down with his own, and his middle fell more deeply into hers, her body offering him a cradle.

She was soft, chilled, almost like champagne on ice. And the scent of that ambrosia... He felt his cock thickening, elongating, and growled, suddenly pissed off beyond measure. "See? Easy," he told her.

She looked at him through the thick shield of her lashes, those gray eyes steady, emotionless. "Round one is yours. That hardly matters."

"Says the loser."

His demon purred with joy. That joy sparked pleasure, and that pleasure washed through him. Ah. That was why he was aroused, he realized; it had nothing to do with the woman. Thank the gods. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he lusted for a godsdamn Hunter.

"What now?" she asked in that calm, dead voice.

"Now," he replied. "We send a piece of you to your boyfriend, then send the rest of you to my friends."

BY THE TIME they reached Lucifer's palace, Amun was useless and he feared he'd weakened his companions. There'd been other battles with demons, yet Aeron and William had had to fight on their own while protecting him. Now they were bloody and bruised and forced to drag him along.

His friends would've been better off leaving him behind.

The new voice in his head...gods, it was worse than any other he'd ever welcomed. So many urges...kill, maim, destroy. Reminded him of his first years with Secrets. So many dark deeds done...so many memories infused with his own.

One of these new memories filled his mind even then. Three human souls were bared and chained before him, each trembling, crying, begging for mercy. He didn't have mercy, however. He was too eager for this. His claws sharpened to deadly points and he slowly raked each tip over the two males, sinking deep, cutting skin and hitting bone, letting the female see what would soon be done to her, increasing her fear. Both men screamed, for his claws were tipped with acid.

That acid burned through the human souls, rotting everything it touched.

Soon their skin turned to char, and that char spread. That's when he flipped them over, one at a time, that sweet scent of rot in his nose, and raped them. Their screaming increased, their thrashing increased, and he laughed. Laughed with true glee. Fun, this was always so much fun.

The woman watched every thrust, helpless, afraid, knowing she was next.

Soon, he promised her. Finally, he emptied into the second male and turned to the female, already hard again. He was always hard. Always ready. The more unwilling the victim, the better.

She tried to crawl away from him, but the chain around her neck stopped her. He laughed. Can't run from me, little maggot.

No, Amun screamed in his mind. That's not me. That's not me!

He leaned over and vomited, entire body spasming as bile blistered a path through his throat.

Strong hands patted his back, offering comfort. "That's it. Let it out," Aeron said.

Once he'd voided his stomach completely, he straightened. Or tried to. His knees finally gave out and not even his friends could hold him up. He was too heavy. A dead weight, boneless.

They managed to drag him to a gnarled tree and prop him against the jagged trunk. Trees in hell, he thought dazedly. Go figure.

"What can I do?" Aeron asked, crouching in front of him.

Nothing. Groaning, Amun forced his eyelids to remain open. The new voice continued to scream, to make itself known, and the pain in his head increased. But he'd rather feel that pain than see those terrible images.

He scanned his surroundings, searching for a distraction. The forest was composed of ash and withered foliage. There was no green, no colorful flowers. Only an endless sea of black. Souls had been tormented here.

He had tormented souls here.

Oh, gods.

"Take a moment to rebuild your strength," William said, motioning to the looming hill where Lucifer's palace rested. "We're almost there."

Amun followed the direction of his friend's gaze. Black brick rose from that monochrome sea, two crumbling towers connected in the center to form a giant skull. There was a staircase enclosed by pikes—pikes that held severed human heads—leading to the yawning mouth of that skull, where sharp, yellow teeth hung like a chandelier. He would never make it.

Just leave me here, he tried to sign.

He didn't think he'd succeeded, but William understood him nonetheless. "You have to go with us. If it becomes necessary, and I pray that it won't, only you can discover where Lucifer has hidden the girl."

And how much worse would Lucifer's memories be than this demon's? How much more could Amun take?

"You've been here before," Aeron said to the warrior. "Anya said Lucifer is even afraid of you. Why is that?"

"Anya misspoke." William had once again carefully blanked his mind, preventing Amun from reading the truth.

"I don't think so. Knowledge is power, and we need all the power we can get. Look at us." Aeron waved a hand down his bleeding body.

He was at the razor-edge of his patience, ready to erupt at the slightest offense.

"The reason doesn't matter," William snapped. He, too, was gearing for a battle. "He'll fight me, just the same as he'll fight you."

Arguing wasn't helping their cause. Amun held out a shaky hand to be helped up. His knees nearly collapsed again, but two strong arms banded around him, his anchors in the storm.

Once more, the three of them trudged forward. By the time they reached the top of the hill, they were panting, cursing. There were no demon guards posted at the entrance to the staircase, but then, Lucifer didn't want to keep them out. The prince of darkness was inside, and he was waiting.

Up the stairs they climbed, dust pluming at their feet. The door was open. After only the briefest of pauses, they stepped into a wide foyer, where piles of bones rested in each corner. The floor was stained red with blood and sticky with things he didn't want to contemplate.

Amun pulled from his friends' clasps, determined to stand on his own. He wouldn't hinder them any more than he already had. He was a warrior, damn it. He could do this.

"Be ready," Aeron whispered, blades already in hand.

"Been ready," William replied, gripping his own blades more tightly.

They'd already run out of bullets and had had to dispose of their guns.

Together, they stalked forward, straight ahead, Amun continually tripping over his own feet. But he did walk, and at the moment, that was all that mattered. Finally they reached a room, scalding orange-gold flames licking each of the walls and fanning heat in every direction.

His demon sighed. And, if he wasn't mistaken, uttered the word home. Sickness reclaimed his stomach. Not home, he thought. Never home.

Focus. There, in the center of the room, was a dais built from brimstone and atop that brimstone was a throne of twisted, jagged metal and horns.

The prince of darkness reclined in it, calm, unfazed by his expected visitors.

"At last," Lucifer said, sipping from a bejeweled goblet. He was well built, with black hair and orange-gold eyes. He would have had a handsome face, one females probably would have melted over, if not for the deadness of those eyes. They gave him away, revealed his evil for all to see. "You certainly took your time."

"Where's Legion?" Aeron demanded.

"What? No pleasantries? No 'how are you doing, dearest master'?"

"Certainly," William said evenly. "I'm doing well, thank you, reviled slave."

Lucifer popped his jaw before nodding in greeting. "William. I was surprised to hear you had returned."

"Just tell the man what he wants to know, and we'll leave. Your blood won't have to be spilled. I know, I know. You're welcome."

Amun concentrated all of his energy on the prince, linking with his mind, staying tuned to his thoughts. At first, there was nothing. Only silence. But Amun continued to push, to dig deeper, and must have finally penetrated some sort of barrier. All at once, an intense wave of hatred hit him. Hatred and fear, as Anya had predicted.

Mine, mine, mine. You will not take what's mine.

"I'm sorry my minions treated you so shabbily," Lucifer said. His tone was just as easy as it had been from the first, as if he wasn't chanting in his head. "I will, of course, punish them. Though perhaps I'll be more merciful than you used to be."

A vein popped from William's temple.

He was still closed off, and Amun didn't have the strength to mentally reach him. Besides, that might have severed the link to the prince.

Lucifer's head canted to the side, and he grinned, his attention shifting to Aeron. "There's something different about you, Wrath." Thoughtful, he tapped his chin. "No, no. I can't call you that, can I? You are Wrath no longer. You are demon-free. Would you like to change that?"

"Either tell us where the girl is or fight us. You're boring me, and I have things to do," William said.

Lucifer's attention returned to him, eyes narrowing. "Oh, yes. I know exactly what those things include. Seducing the lovely Gilly. Your desire for her grows daily, doesn't it? Brother. And really, I'm surprised you didn't stop and visit your Horsemen. They miss you so."

Brother? Horsemen? The four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

Aeron stiffened, shooting William a shocked and angered glance.

Lucifer laughed inside his head, utterly pleased with himself.

He's trying to divide you, Amun signed, unsure Lucifer had meant what he'd said. Not about Gilly, and not about the Horsemen, Amun knew both were true, but about the familial connection. Unfortunately, neither warrior noticed him.

"He's lying, of course," William said smoothly. Or tried to. His voice trembled just a bit. "I've never touched Gilly, and I never will. I'm not into jailbait. And the horsey comment doesn't deserve a response."

One dark brow arched in smug amusement. "Whatever you say. Now, let's begin with the night's entertainment and rid you of your boredom. Shall we?" He clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the surrounding blaze.

To the left, two demon High Lords entered the room. If their grins were any indication, they'd been waiting eagerly for their summons. Between them was Legion, shoulders hunched, pale hair in bloody tangles around her head. She'd been stripped and chained, and there were welts along her thighs where she'd been whipped.

Knowing he couldn't afford the distraction, Amun blocked her thoughts. But not before he caught a glimpse of them. Oh, the terrible things that had been done to her...so much worse than what the minion of Pain had shown him, for that creature had only witnessed portions of her torture.

She might never recover.

She was as cut and bruised as he was, and there was a desolation in her eyes that had never been there before. But when she caught sight of Aeron, she began to struggle, to scream, worried for him, hopeful for herself. "Aeron! Aeron!"

The demons held tightly, and Aeron tried to stalk forward, but William gripped his arm and held him in place.

"That's what he wants."

Lucifer was watching Aeron, eating up his reaction, loving the paleness of his skin, the grinding of his teeth. "Nothing to say, warrior?"

Aeron nodded. "You will die for this."

"That's it?"

Another stiff nod, as if he didn't trust himself to speak again.

Amun felt the surge of disappointment that filled the prince. He'd wanted Aeron to rant and rave. But, no matter, Lucifer thought, and Amun almost pulled from the being's mind. He retained the connection, sick to his stomach, churning with dread. Lucifer wasn't going to be deterred. What he had planned was sure to drive Aeron to the brink of madness. Aeron, stupid Aeron, who had ruined his plans to possess Legion and destroy the Lords.

"Then let's get started with the festivities," Lucifer said smoothly. "Shall we?"