The Darkest Passion

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

STRIDER HIT THE GROUND as a bullet whizzed past his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Gwen muttered with a grimace. Her red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and her silver-gold eyes were gleaming. “I’m having trouble channeling my dark side—” her Harpy “—so I thought I’d better carry a gun.”

A gun that she’d never worked with before. A Dead Hunter special he’d augmented himself.

Damn, that’d been close. Nearly taken out by friendly fire. And then things really would have gotten bad. Even though she wouldn’t have meant to hit him, his demon would have seen it as a challenge. Gwen would have won, and he would’ve been writhing on the ground for days, lost to the agony.

As he’d lost a challenge a few weeks ago to Hunters—because Gwen and Sabin had let her father escape, something he was still trying to forgive them for—the consequences of failure were vivid in his mind, and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

“Just take your finger off the trigger,” he told her. “We don’t know where the Hunters ran off to and hid, and they don’t know where we are. Gunshots could give away our location.”

“Done.”

Shaking his head, Strider straightened. Glanced around. Lush, thick trees surrounded him and most of the others who’d been at the temple with him—and who, like him, had been whisked to…wherever the hell they were. Close to water, like before, that much he knew. He could hear the lull of the sea a few yards away, and golden sand sparkled at his feet and clung to his skin.

Amun and Maddox were currently scouting for signs of the enemy.

Evidently the Unspoken Ones’ idea of a “gift” had been to whisk them and sixteen armed Hunters to a mysterious location. They’d all been here twenty-four hours, had endured one full-on shoot-out, one scramble to safety to figure things out, and now this. Waiting. Searching. It was like the boxing matches Strider liked to watch on TV: the Lords in one corner, the Hunters in the other. So when was the freaking starting bell going to ring?

Soon, if he had his way.

His phone beeped, drawing his attention and signaling success. In one area at least.

“Yes!” he said, punching a tree trunk in excitement. “My text finally went through to Lucien.” He’d been trying to contact his friends in Buda for most of the twenty-four hours with no luck. Either the powerful creatures had refused to let him make contact or cell towers were few and far between out here. His money was on the creatures. He needed Lucien to flash them more weapons and ammo. No way they’d leave this place until every Hunter was captured. Or dead. He wasn’t picky.

Now that the text had gone through, communication lines open, did that mean the Unspoken Ones were taking their hands out of the battle?

Only a few seconds later, his phone beeped again. He raised the screen to read Lucien’s reply. Tried to flash to you. Something’s blocking me.

Damn. Hands still in, just not as restricting.

He relayed the bad news to the others, scattered around him, and they groaned.

“We’ll be fine,” Sabin said. “If nothing else, Gwen can rip through them like a knife through silk.”

Strider knew the statement wasn’t a besotted husband’s exaggerated boast, but the truth. When her dark side overtook her, Gwen could immobilize an immortal army on her own. Humans would be child’s play.

“Only if my Harpy decides to show,” she grumbled. “Wait. No only about it. She will. I’ll make her.” When it came to Sabin, she’d do anything to protect him. A fact everyone in this little camp knew intimately, having been shredded by her Harpy’s claws a time or two during training.

Don’t worry, he typed, returning his attention to the phone. We’ve got this.

Good news is, Galen’s here in Buda and not among the group.

Surprising, since he’d seen Galen in that vision. You guys good to go?

We’ll be fine. But I should warn you, that bastard somehow got his hands on the Cloak. He could be in the fortress, and we’d never know it.

Shit! This just got worse and worse. Galen had an artifact, and a powerful one at that. Soon as this was over, Strider would do whatever was necessary to steal it. Meanwhile, it was his turn to drop a bombshell. Looks like Hope’s been a busy boy. I should warn YOU that Galen managed to merge the demon of Distrust with one of his soldiers. A female. We think he’ll be out for blood now.

At first, Lucien didn’t reply. Was probably battling shock as Strider and the others had. Distrust, the only thing left of Baden, was now in enemy hands.

Did Galen even need Pandora’s box anymore? he wondered now. With the box, he could gather all the demons at once, without having to search for them later. So yeah, probably.

Finally, a new text came in. This is bad. Really bad. And I think it’s only going to get worse. Aeron’s called a meeting. Found something out. More from me when I know what that something is. Meanwhile, be careful.

You, too.

A twig snapped. Everyone stiffened, half immediately pointing their weapons in the direction of the noise and half aiming in the opposite direction, just in case. Amun and Maddox strode through the bush, and everyone relaxed. Amun was dragging a man, a human, behind him. Expression grim, he tossed the motionless body in the center of the camp.

As Maddox tied the man up, Amun signed what they’d learned.

Strider had always admired Amun’s ability to absorb memories. Sure, it left him with a new voice in his head each time he did so, but that seemed like a small price to pay for knowing the thoughts of everyone around you. As he’d just taken a new crop of memories, though, Strider knew it would be a long time before he heard his friend speak again.

“Hunters set up camp about a mile north of us, and this guy was on guard duty. Their plan is to wait for us to attack them on their turf, where they can more easily injure us while remaining barricaded themselves,” Sabin said, interpreting. Then he laughed without humor. “We all saw Distrust merge with that female. They won’t just try to injure us. They’ll be out for our heads.”

“Gets better,” Strider said, pocketing his phone. “Galen’s back in Buda, and he has the Cloak of Invisibility.”

For several prolonged seconds, silence dominated their circle. Then he felt the vibrations of their anger as they considered the consequences. Then he heard their muttered curses.

“Obviously we can’t stay here much longer, but just as obviously, we can’t let these men go. Maddox can lead us to their camp, and we’ll fight them on their turf just like they wanted.” Sabin stood, hands clenched into fists. “Only, they won’t like the results. We show no mercy. Take no prisoners.”

Amid murmurs of agreement, Strider and the others pushed to their feet. Knives were palmed by Kane and Reyes. Guns were clutched by Gwen and himself. No, no, no. He crossed the small distance to stand in front of her and plucked the modified Sig Sauer from her fingers.

“I’ll take that,” he said.

“Fine.” She smiled sheepishly, then waved her clawed fingertips. “I’ll do better without it, anyway.”

“We all will.”

Sabin hugged her tight. “I’ll help you summon your Harpy after Maddox gives us some direction. Maddox?”

Maddox walked to the center of the group and knelt in the sand. He drew a misshapen circle. “We’re on another island. We’re here, and they’re here.” His fingertip danced through the golden grains. “The Unspoken Ones must have given them extra fortifications, because I found steel traps here, here and here.”

Amun signed.

Again, Sabin translated for Maddox and Reyes, who hadn’t spent the last few thousand years with the silent warrior. “Sleepy there,” he said, pointing to the motionless Hunter, “was patrolling the perimeter of their camp with three others.”

“If we split up, we can surround them and close in, a different warrior taking out each of the remaining guards while giving the others no room to run and hide.” Strider would love nothing more than to pick them off himself, one by one, but there wasn’t time.

“Excellent,” Sabin said with a nod. He outlined who was to go where. “I don’t care if you have to scoot on your stomach. Don’t let them see you. They’re expecting us, as Sabin said, so the greater a surprise we manage to be, the better our chances of success. And once you spy their camp, don’t move until you hear my signal. I want to let my demon at them before we attack.” Doubt could turn even the bravest of warriors into thumb-sucking babies. “Move as swiftly as you can. Let’s reach them before they realize we’ve already eliminated one of their own. If they haven’t already.”

Grinning, Strider saluted and was off. For the most part, he loved this part of his life. Loved the challenge of battle, loved the rush of victory. Adrenaline always pumped through his veins, driving him faster, making him stronger. Like now. He dodged tree limbs and jumped over stones, all the while merging with the shadows.

Need a triumph, his demon whined.

Some Lords could hear their demons clearly; some simply felt their other half’s desires. Strider only heard his before and after a battle. Perhaps that was because that was when Defeat was the strongest—and the most worried.

I’ll get you one. Promise.

Sure?

What are you, Doubt? Yeah, I’m sure.

Every so often, the sun would peek through the canopy of treetops and spill onto the ground like a spotlight. Out of habit, he spun until he once again met with shadows. Sadly, he wasn’t one of the ones to run into a guard. Finally, though, he reached his destination and slowed. He was careful to avoid anything that might crunch beneath his boots. Then, hearing the murmur of unfamiliar voices, he lay down as ordered and inched his way to a bush bordering the Hunter camp.

All he saw was a wall of rocks, but there were gaps between several of those rocks, gun barrels peeking from them. Then he heard the whispers.

“Rick hasn’t returned yet.”

“He’s only five minutes late.”

“Maybe he got lost.”

“Please. The Lords of the Underworld are out there. Rick’s already dead.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I know you are. They have no morals, no conscience, so killing an innocent man wouldn’t faze them. But damn, I really liked him.”

Innocent? Please.

“We shouldn’t wait for them to come to us. We should attack them. Obviously we’ve got a god or two on our side. Our hideout appeared out of nowhere. Our guns and traps, too. Why else would we have been brought here with the Lords if not to finally destroy them?”

Good question. These Hunters were supposed to be a gift, yet they’d been armed and sheltered. Or maybe the battle was the gift. Not to the Lords, but to the Unspoken Ones. Maybe they enjoyed watching bloodshed.

One man must have stood, because suddenly Strider could see the top of his head. “Shut your fucking mouths, all of you. We’re dealing with demons, the plague of our lives. We have to stay on alert.”

Fanatics, Strider thought with disgust. They wanted someone to blame for their troubles. Understandable, he supposed, but wrong. Humans had free will. More often than not, that free will was the source of their troubles. They decided what they would eat, how much they would drink and who they would sleep with. They decided whether or not to do drugs or get in a car destined to crash.

“What if—what if they’re too strong and we die out here?”

“They want revenge for what we did to Lies, I know it. They’re going to cut off our hands like we cut off his.”

Strider fought a grin. Doubt was doing his job. Any second now and Sabin would—

Sabin’s whistle echoed.

Ding, ding. And there it was at last, the starting bell. Strider popped to his feet, the muzzles of both his guns outstretched. He aimed both at those gaps between the rocks and squeezed the triggers simultaneously. Pop, pop.

Screams erupted.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Reyes dart from behind a tree trunk, sprint forward and climb the wall, tossing a knife along the way. There was another scream. Maddox sprinted forward as well, jumping over the wall with a single leap, gunfire ringing out. Only, Maddox hadn’t carried a gun, Strider realized, stomach tightening. He was the target, using his body as a distraction.

Sabin quickly joined him and Kane attempted to do the same—until a bullet somehow ricocheted off a rock and embedded in his shoulder. Figured. Kane cursed loud and long as Strider rounded the wall, disabling as many guns as he could through the holes.

Then a gust of lemon-scented wind ruffled Strider’s hair, and he stilled. Gwen, he thought. And sure enough, he spotted the blur of her hair as she darted up the wall and fell inside the circle. Sabin had clearly made good on his promise. Strider followed on her heels, remaining on the edge of the highest ledge, weapon trained, just in case.

He needn’t have bothered. The Harpy squawked, claws raking, sharpened teeth chomping. Men screamed and collapsed. A few tried to run, to scramble over the rocks. They didn’t get far. As fast as the tiny wings on her back allowed her to move, she easily caught them and snapped their necks.

And just like that, the enemy was conquered.

Yes. Yes! Defeat sang inside his head.

Too easy, he thought. He hadn’t even worked up a sweat. Not that he was complaining. Much. The harder the victory was to achieve, the better the rush afterward. Occasionally, if the victory was sweet enough, his demon writhed in pleasure for days. Hot damn, that was better than sex. Better than anything, really. He’d only experienced such a thing twice, but he craved the next time like a drug.

Reyes and Maddox were bleeding profusely as they meandered through the masses, kicking away weapons. A few feet away, outside the enclosure, Strider heard the crunch of rocks and the snap of a twig. He turned, gun moving with him. He relaxed when he saw Kane settle against a tree trunk, trying to dig the bullet out of his shoulder. Disaster had had to mend himself from similar catastrophes a thousand times before, so he knew how to go about it.

Beside him was Amun, prone and writhing. The big guy must not ever have joined the fray. He’d clearly remained at the sidelines, the memories he’d stolen from that Hunter already overtaking him, demanding his attention.

“Gwen,” Sabin called.

Once again, Strider’s attention veered. A panting Gwen was pressed against the rocks. Blood coated her face and hands. All of the warriors had stepped away from her. All but Sabin. He was the only one capable of calming her down when her dark side overtook her.

As Sabin approached her, Strider joined the others in weaving through the fallen humans. Most were lifeless, silent. A few were moaning. He quickly aimed and fired, ending their misery. Except for one. That one, he crouched beside. There was something about the man…No, kid. Something about the kid that caused him to pause. And with the pause, reluctant compassion sparked to life.

That kid looked up at him through glazed eyes, realized who he was and scowled. “Bastard,” he spat, blood spraying from his mouth. “Don’t think this is the end. I’ll rise from the grave if necessary. I’ll end you.”

Such hatred seemed wrong in someone so young. The boy could be no more than twenty years old and had dark hair and eyes, reminding him of Reyes when they’d lived in the heavens. There were cuts all over his face and holes in his left shoulder and stomach, both of which were gushing blood. They’d decided to kill these Hunters, decided not to take any prisoners, but Strider suddenly found himself regretting that choice.

Which made no sense. If the kid had been able, he would have gutted Strider without hesitation. Still. His strength in the face of defeat was humbling.

With a sigh, Strider removed his T-shirt, ripped the fabric into two pieces and used the first to bind the kid’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” he ground out.

“Saving your life.”

“When you just tried to end it? No. Hell, no. I don’t want to be saved by a demon.” He tried to scoot away, but was too weak and shaky to get more than a few inches.

“Too bad.” Strider used the other strip to apply pressure to his stomach. “I never give Hunters what they want.”

There was a tense pause. Then a weak, “This won’t change anything.”

“Good. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Finally the kid gave up and just lay there as Strider bandaged him. Which was a good thing. The demon had begun to view their interaction as a challenge. “So what’d we do to you to earn your eternal hate?”

Eyelids that had been drifting closed snapped open. “As if you don’t know,” was the snarled reply.

Strider rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Just so you know, we can’t be everywhere at once, and we have enough trouble with our own lives. There’s no way we could have done whatever it is you think we’ve done to those you love.”

“My name isn’t dude, asshole.”

Nice of him to ignore everything else Strider had said. “Well, I thought it was better than calling you Holes.”

“Go to hell.”

“Been there, done that.”

The kid ran his tongue over his teeth. “Fine. You want to know the name of the man who will one day destroy you? It’s Dominic. My name is Dominic.”

“Actually, I don’t recall asking what your name is. I don’t really care,” Strider said, and it was true. “Now that I’ve saved your sorry ass, you can deliver a message for me. Tell Galen we know about the girl. The demon-possessed girl, if you need more clarification.”

Already pale, Dominic became chalk-white. “I don’t know…what you’re talking…about.” Blood loss had him gasping.

Yeah. Right.

Multiple shadows suddenly fell over the prone human, and Strider glanced up. Most of the others had closed in and were surrounding them. Not a single one complained about his disobedience. Compassion clouded their features the same way it must have clouded his.

He returned his attention to the boy. “And do yourself a favor,” he said, finishing the patch job. “When you get back to wherever your hidey-hole is, take a good long look at your leader. I know those wings of his make it seem like he’s the angel he claims to be. But guess what? He’s just like us—demon-possessed. Only his demon happens to be Hope. Why do you think you feel so optimistic about the future every time you’re in his presence? Why do you think you experience crushing disappointment every time you leave him? That’s what he does, you know? The source of his strength. Building people up and tearing them down.”

“No. No…wrong…” Dominic’s eyelids drifted closed. This time, they didn’t open. There were lines of strain and pain branching from his eyes and mouth now, and hollows were already forming in his cheeks. He needed a transfusion, but with no medical supplies here, such a thing was impossible.

“Text Lucien and tell him to try flashing here again, wherever here is.” Strider’s hand clenched. He didn’t want this jerk to die. Not after all his hard work.

There was a shuffle of clothing as Gwen did as he’d asked. A few seconds later, she said, “Yes! He made it. He’s at the temple and is going to follow our spiritual threads to reach us.”

Lucien had been all over the world and could flash anywhere he desired. But he didn’t know offhand exactly where someone he was tracking went. He had to follow the trails of energy they left behind in the spiritual plane.

Strider cupped the human’s jaw and shook. “Open your eyes, Dominic.”

A moment passed. Nothing. He shook again. Dominic moaned.

“Open. Your. Eyes.” He made sure to inject enough fury and menace into his tone to wake even the dead. Dominic had threatened to rise from the grave. No time like the present to prove he meant it.

The kid’s eyelids finally cracked open. “What d’you want?” was the groggy reply. His breathing was more labored, coming in short bursts.

“Soon as he gets here, one of our men will be taking you to a hospital. You’re going to live. And you’re going to deliver that message I gave you. Oh, yeah. You want to know the name of the guy who just saved you? It’s Strider. I’d also consider it a personal favor if you let Galen know I’m coming for him.” And like Galen, Strider wouldn’t show any mercy. Galen had made a mistake pairing Distrust with one of his soldiers, because now, Strider could kill Galen. And he could bind Hope with someone of his choosing.

Defeat laughed with glee. Game on.

Yes, Strider thought grimly. Game on.