The Darkest Passion

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

IT WAS THE PAIN that woke her.

Olivia slowly cracked open her eyes. Beep, beep. At first, the room was hazy, as if someone had smeared it with oil. But then, bit by bit, clarity descended. Not full clarity—her eyes were swollen—but enough to see that she was still in the warehouse, though in another room. This one had hospital gurneys. She was hooked to an IV, and electrodes covered her chest, monitoring her heartbeat. Her broken arm wasn’t in a cast, she noted, but was cuffed to the bedrail.

“Lysander?” Even speaking those few syllables caused her throat nothing but agony. Tears flooded her ravaged eyes.

There was no reply.

She tried again. “Lysander.”

Again, nothing.

He was gone, then. He wouldn’t have ignored her, that wasn’t his style. He would have yelled at her some more and right now, that yelling would have been welcome. She was alone and scared.

No, not alone, she realized as her gaze scanned the rest of the room. Beside her was a man on a gurney of his own. A man she didn’t recognize. He was young, perhaps early twenties, and there were bruises under his eyes. His cheeks were hollowed out and his skin a little jaundiced.

He was watching her.

When he realized he’d been found out, he blushed and said, “Uh, hi. Glad to see you’re awake. My name’s Dominic.”

“Olivia,” she replied automatically. Ow. That had hurt even worse.

“You sound terrible.” Remorse and guilt poured from him. “We’re supposed to be the good guys, you know. Stefano told me you’re Wrath’s girlfriend, but I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been hurt like that. No human should be hurt like that.”

She didn’t have to ask who “we” was. The Hunters. Her gaze shifted over the boy’s body, checking for injuries. He was shirtless and there were bandages around his shoulder and middle. The one around his middle was dotted with dried blood. He wore a pair of loose scrub pants. “Hurt…you, too?”

He didn’t seem to hear her, too lost in his own thoughts. “They told me our leader is a demon, too.” As the last word left him, he began coughing. Coughing so forcefully, he spit up blood. When he finally calmed, he added, “I should have believed them. After what was done to you, I have to believe them.”

Them. The Lords? She couldn’t sense a lie in his tone, but then, she couldn’t sense the truth, either. Either way, she knew deep in her bones that he wasn’t going to live much longer. She hated that he would die like this, in here. As she probably would.

No. No. She shouldn’t think like that. She was a joy-bringer at heart, yes, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. She’d withstood the fires of hell. She’d endured having her wings ripped from her body. She could escape this. She would escape this.

Dominic sat up, wavered a bit and rubbed at his temples. When he steadied, he kicked his legs over the side of the gurney and stood.

“Careful,” she managed to croak.

Again, he didn’t seem to hear her. “They found me on the streets. I was a thief and a whore, and they told me it wasn’t my fault.” There was shame in his voice, shame far greater than his remorse had been. “They told me it was their fault. The Lords. That the demon of Defeat was feeding off me and my circumstances. I believed them because it was easier than blaming myself.”

“Lied,” she said. He was making a last confession, and that nearly made her sob. Death shouldn’t bother her. It never had before. But now she knew the finality of it. This kid, for that’s what he was, should have had a chance to live a long and happy life. Instead, he’d known only sorrow and regret.

One wobbly step, two, he worked his way around his gurney, approaching hers. “I know they lied. Now. The Lords, they sent me back. Set me free. They didn’t want to, but they did it. Defeat did it, and there was compassion in his eyes. I saw it. Evil doesn’t feel compassion, does it?”

“No.”

“I studied him, you know? More than the others. I wanted to kill him myself, but he saved me. And Stefano, what he did to you…” Dominic shook his head, scowled. “There’s no compassion in the act of beating a defenseless woman. Galen was pissed when he found out, but the angel didn’t punish Stefano for his actions.”

Galen, upset at her mistreatment? Surprising.

When Dominic finally reached her, he offered her a small smile that managed to be sad and happy at the same time. “Those bastards never thought I’d help you.” He pulled one of the ties from his pants and there at the end hung a thin strip of metal. “They were wrong. Over the years, I learned to always be prepared for anything.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as he worked at the cuff holding her captive. They teared again, as well. The pain was unbearable, nearly sending her back into that welcome black void. Thankfully, the metal clicked before she fell, freeing her, easing the agony somewhat.

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “We’ve got ten minutes. Maybe. Someone’s always coming in here to check on you.” As he spoke, he helped her sit up. “Plus, I was supposed to call Galen when you woke up. Of course, I won’t do that.” With barely a pause, he added, “At the door, we’re going to turn left. We’ll walk past all the other doorways, and hopefully my body will block yours. There are men here, only a few, but even though they’re the medical staff, they won’t hesitate to gun you down if they realize who you are and that you’re free.”

Uncertain, Olivia placed her weight on her left foot, then her right. They held. A sigh of relief parted her lips—and made her cringe. Her lips were cut and the action, small as it had been, split the abrasions apart.

“I can’t leave without the Cloak,” she said. “Where is—”

“Impossible. Galen keeps it with him at all times. The only way to get it is to confront him, and you won’t survive if you do that.”

Dominic was right. She didn’t have the strength to defeat Galen. But she couldn’t leave that Cloak in his possession. Someone else could be taken by him. And would be. Galen wouldn’t hesitate, and he might not be so…lenient with the next person.

“Come on,” Dominic said, and with his arm around her waist, he led her toward the only door.

“Where’s Galen now?”

“Oh, no. I know what you’re thinking, but I already told you. We can’t do it. There’s just no way.”

“I have to try,” she said, letting her determination seep from her.

He stilled, closed his eyes. She could feel his heart banging against his ribs, erratic, too hard. “He’s here. Waiting. Impatient.” He laughed bitterly. “I tried to wake you sooner, but you were pretty out of it.”

If she left, Galen would leave this warehouse and never return to it, knowing she could bring the Lords here. She’d no longer know where to find him, and that was an edge she wouldn’t give up.

“I want you to go on without me,” she said. She spouted off directions to the fortress. “The Lords will spot you once you reach the hill. Ask for Aeron and tell him—”

“No.” Dominic shook his head. “How many times do I have to tell you? You can’t beat Galen. He’ll kill you before he parts with that Cloak. I’m dying, anyway, and don’t care if I do so here or somewhere else. But you…No,” he said again. “I won’t let you. I won’t die knowing I did nothing to help you.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him anything needed to convince him to do as she wanted, but the sound of pounding footsteps and a distant shout stopped her.

Dominic stiffened. “He’s coming back to check on you,” he whispered, horrified. “Shit. Shit.” He dragged her to the door and pressed her against the wall next to it, where they would be hidden when that door opened.

“I can’t leave without the Cloak. I just can’t.”

Again Dominic closed his eyes, as if he were weighing his options. Only took a second, a second that seemed to drag into eternity, but when he opened them, there was more resolve banked in his expression than she’d ever seen in anyone before.

“The Cloak will be in his pocket. As it folds, it shrinks. It’s gray, soft. Grab it and run. Don’t look back. Just run. Okay?”

Like his, her heart was pounding against her ribs. Sweat was beading over her skin, her limbs were shaking and her mouth drying. “What about you?” He claimed he was ready to die, but she wasn’t ready to watch him do so. He was a nice kid who’d seen too many bad things in his short life. He deserved a happily ever after.

“I’ll handle Galen. Okay?” He pulled the other tie from his scrubs and there was a blade attached. His knuckles whitened as he clutched the hilt. “Just reach into his pockets, grab whatever you can and run.”

Pockets. Galen wore a robe just like Olivia’s, so she knew that there were three pockets. Two on the right and one on the left. It would be impossible to frisk all three at the same time. Still, she said, “Okay,” and prayed she chose correctly.

The door swung open, and Galen strode inside. He stopped in the center of the room, head swinging left and right to survey the empty gurneys. She didn’t think about her next actions, just propelled into him and slid her hands along his sides, into two of his pockets.

He cursed and tried to push her away. Perhaps Lysander was helping her, after all, because Galen did not succeed.

Her broken arm throbbed, the fingers swollen and slow to react to mental commands, but she grabbed everything she touched, turned and ran. Just ran. Just as Dominic had wanted. Fingers snagged in her hair and jerked, but she kept moving.

She passed the door, halfway expecting hard hands to settle on her shoulders or tangle in her hair again, but that never happened. Instead, she heard a shout, a roar of pain, and knew Dominic had just stabbed Galen.

A stabbing wouldn’t keep the immortal down for long.

Through the open doorways of the other rooms, several men raced into the hallway. As their confused, panicked gazes hit her, she increased her speed and peered down at her bounty. There, in the center of her palm, was a square of gray material.

Relief. Excitement. Yes, she experienced both. They gave her strength. Olivia dropped everything else, it wasn’t important right now, and shook the material out. Because of her inattention, she plowed into a solid wall of man.

The action jarred her, hurt her, but not enough to stop her from continuing to shake out the material as she fell. Just as the man bent down to grab her, she wrapped the Cloak around her shoulders.

One minute she could see her limbs, the next she couldn’t. Don’t even breathe. Be quiet.

All of the men spun, frowning, looking for her. They fired at where she’d been, but she’d already moved. She pressed against the wall, and they finally darted past her, shouting for help.

Galen stomped out of the room, blood spurting from his gut. He was scowling and dragging an unconscious—please, let him be alive—Dominic behind him.

“Where’d she go?” he demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“She just disappeared.”

Galen ran his tongue over his teeth. He dropped Dominic, who didn’t even utter a gasp. “She couldn’t have gotten far. She’s injured. Spread out and move toward the demons’ lair. That’s where she’s headed. If you feel anything you can’t see, shoot. If you hear a woman panting but can’t see her, shoot. Do you understand? I’m done playing nice. She has something that belongs to me. Do not set foot on the hill, though. The Lords will see you, and I’m not ready for that yet.”

A chorus of yeses rang out, and the men were off.

Galen stood there for a long while, popping his jaw, breathing deeply. Olivia didn’t dare risk an exhalation; she simply held the oxygen in her nose and waited. Finally, he stormed off, following behind the men.

She tiptoed forward and placed her fingers at Dominic’s neck. No pulse. Her chin trembled, and tears once again filled her eyes. He’d been ready to die, had wanted it even, but it still broke her heart. He’d never known joy. He should have known joy.

Pray for his soul. Later. You can’t help anyone if you die, as well. Olivia stood, her tears pouring down her cheeks like rain. She could barely see in front of her, but she stumbled forward, taking the same path as Galen.

The hallway led to an empty area, but that empty area led to a closed doorway. The exit? Most likely. The seam between the double doors revealed a stream of sunlight.

Gulping, she held out her uninjured hand and pushed the panels open. Warm air instantly enveloped her. And sure enough, the sun was shining brightly over a parking lot. Too brightly for her now-sensitive vision. Still, she blinked against those rays as she trudged onward.

Until a smiling Galen stepped into her path.

His wings were spread wide, and she was moving too quickly to stop. She knocked into him and careened backward, falling into the metal wall of the warehouse. With a shocked, pained gasp, she slid to the rock-laden ground.

“I thought you’d stay behind to check on the boy,” he said, grin widening. “Your friends caused his death, yet still you thought to return to them. So disappointing. So predictable.”

Bastard!

He lunged for the wall, and Olivia rolled out of the way, clutching as many rocks as she could hold. She scrambled to her feet, careful not to make another sound, and Galen ended up slamming into the building.

He straightened. “Doesn’t matter. I can see your footprints. It’s just a matter of following you now.”

Thanks for the warning. She zigzagged left, right, gaze continually moving, searching for a path to safety. Only dirt and gravel greeted her. Which meant anywhere she stepped, he would continue to see her prints. And he did. He followed her.

“Escape me, and I’ll go after Aeron next. I’ll cut off his head while you watch, helpless.”

He was taunting her, trying to trick her into retreating.

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, Olivia moved backward. Still Galen followed. She threw a glance over her shoulder. A hundred yards away was a busy area, with a high-traffic road and many other buildings. Hunters had probably chosen the location as a way of hiding in plain sight, but what they hadn’t counted on was that it would be easier for their prisoners to hide, as well. All she had to do was make it there, and then she would be safe. He would never be able to pick her out.

Problem: he was fast, faster than her, and uninjured. If she ran, he could catch her. Worth the risk.

Drawing on a reservoir of strength she hadn’t known she possessed, she spun around and sprinted forward. There was a crunch of gravel, and she knew that Galen was still hot on her trail. Her entire body screamed in protest each time she threw one leg in front of the other, but she only increased her speed.

Almost there… Galen gripped the Cloak and jerked. Yelping, fisting the material with her free hand to keep it around her, she rounded a corner and slammed into a group of pedestrians. Two fell backward as her shoulder and arm were revealed. Panting, Olivia refit the material around her, then plastered herself against the nearest wall.

She tossed her handful of rocks into a pole. Pop, pop, pop. She watched, hopeful, as Galen soared past her toward the pole, giving chase to where he thought she’d gone.

So close. So close to disaster. But she’d done it. She’d really done it.

Hot breath slammed in and out of her nose, burning her throat and lungs. Sweat was pouring obscenely now, and she probably smelled. Her limbs were once more shaking. Unfortunately, she couldn’t go to the fortress. Galen’s men would be surrounding the place by the time she reached it. She couldn’t call Aeron for a pickup because she didn’t know his number.

She had to do something, go somewhere; she couldn’t stay here. Using the wall to prop herself up, she careened forward, winding around several corners, letting herself become lost in the different crowds and locations. Finally, she spied a shadowed, empty alley and sat. Mistake. The moment her body stilled, she knew she wouldn’t be able to force it into action again. Her muscles clamped down on her bones, and every spark of energy drained.

“Lysander,” she whispered. Waited.

Once again, she received no reply.

Alone. A terrible thought. This wasn’t the best location to hide. Someone could stumble over her invisible legs. More than that, Hunters would probably be searching all the alleys when she failed to reach the fortress. But…

She’d rest her eyes, she thought. Just for a bit. Catch her breath, too. Then she’d pick herself up and start moving again. Except, she must have fallen asleep, because when she finally opened her eyes, still unable to move, she saw that the sun had set and the moon was glowing prettily.

Her pain was magnified, her resolve finally shaken. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t go on. Death would be welcome. She wouldn’t fight. She would—

“Olivia,” a male voice said, startling her. “Come on, sweetheart. I know you’re here. Your spirit trail ends here, but I can’t see you.” A second later, a body materialized.

Lucien. She recognized him, though they’d never been properly introduced, and knew he carried the demon of Death. How appropriate. He could escort her—

“I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you. Aeron’s looking for you.”

Aeron. Death could suck it. With a shaky hand that felt as if boulders anchored it in place, she reached up and tugged the Cloak from her shoulders. “H-here. I’m here.”

Lucien’s eyes widened when she suddenly appeared. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Everything will be—” He shook his head. “No time to explain what’s going on. There’s a soul at the warehouse where you were tortured, and I need to escort him into the hereafter.”

“His name’s Dominic,” she said in that savaged voice of hers. “He saved me. Be gentle with him, please.”

“I will.” Lucien disappeared.

She folded the Cloak as best she could, expecting—Lucien reappeared with Aeron.

All other thoughts faded. Aeron. Unexpected. Welcome. “I thought you were…the soul…”

“That’s what I’m doing next. See you back at the fortress,” Lucien said, and once again disappeared.

“Oh, baby,” Aeron said gently as he crouched beside her. Despite the gentleness, she could hear his worry and his fury. But he was here, he was safe after the earlier battle. “What did they do to you?”

Like Lucien, she didn’t have time for explanations. “They’re out here, looking for me. Waiting by the fortress.”

He immediately stiffened, his gaze sweeping the area. “No one’s near us. You’re safe. And I’ll call Torin and warn him about what’s going on. Anyone in the area will be taken care of before we get there.” With a tender expression, he withdrew a vial from his pocket and held it to her lips. “Drink, baby, drink.”

She shook her head. There was no need to waste a drop on her. She’d be going home soon and—

Determined, he parted her lips himself and tipped the glass. The cool liquid slid down her throat, more than a sip, and settled wonderfully in her stomach. Within seconds, that liquid was deluging the rest of her, giving her strength, peace. The pain left her entirely, leaving a cool hum of pleasure in its place.

Stubborn man. “You shouldn’t have given me so much.” Even her throat was healed, the words leaving her smoothly.

“I would give you all of it.”

What a sweet thing to say. Sweet and wrong. She didn’t want to hear things like that. Not now. It would make leaving him that much harder. “How did you find me?”

His eyes narrowed. “I knew you wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, so I had Lucien hunt down your spirit trail. Which means he saw where you’d been, what paths you’d taken. I will never forgive myself for how long it took us to locate you. And I will murder that fucking bastard Galen if it’s the last thing—”

“Aeron,” she interjected. She wouldn’t have him endangering himself for her. “Just hold me.”

His arms settled under her knees and at her back, and he lifted her, cradling her against his chest. “When we get home, you’re going to tell me everything that was done to you. You might as well tell me what the demons did to you that first night, as well.” With every word, his voice hardened. “And then I’m going to find Galen and the demons and return the favor. No one hurts my woman and lives.”