The Darkest Pleasure

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BY THE TIME Sabin arrived in the fortress, Hunters were already scaling the mountain. Lucien had flashed him inside Torin's bedroom, a wall-to-wall computer system consuming most of the space. All of the other warriors but the still-imprisoned Aeron surrounded the technological genius, staring at the many screens. No, not true, he realized. Pain was also absent. Again.

"Explosion?" Torin asked, glee in his tone.

"Yes. Blow them to hell," Maddox growled, fingers clenched around a serrated blade. "The only good Hunter is a dead one."

"No." Lucien tugged at his earlobe. "If they manage to bypass the pits, nets and arrows, let them inside. An explosion will draw innocent humans to the hill, and that we cannot allow."

Maddox's nostrils flared. "Ashlyn—"

Lucien gave another of those tugs. "I've already flashed the women to safety, though neither went peacefully. With Anya as her guard, your female will be fine."

The heat of Maddox's anger died, his shoulders slumping. "Very well."

"We let them inside and our home will be painted red," Paris said. "I, for one, will not enjoy cleaning. And with Aeron locked up, I know that duty will fall on my shoulders."

"I've fought Hunters a lot longer than you have," Sabin piped up. "Believe me, it's better to kill them here than to fight them in the city where innocents can be harmed and used against us. And they will use innocents. Women and children make wonderful shields."

"All for the greater good," Cameo mocked sorrowfully, and he cringed. Someone needed to put a muzzle on her. No matter how much time they spent together, he would never get used to her voice.

"This is fun," the immortal named William said, rubbing his hands together.

Sabin stared over at him, wondering who the hell had invited him. Making new friends wasn't on his agenda. "What are you doing here?"

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "The warrior is our welcome guest and might be an asset in the coming battle." His tone was anything but happy, though Sabin was willing to bet he hoped the "welcome guest" was maimed in the fray. "We are dealing with more than we ever imagined."

"What are you talking about?" Sabin demanded.

"I am talking about our old friend Galen. I have just learned the Hunters are led by him."

"Galen?" Sabin laughed. "Surely you're joking."

The other warriors laughed, as well, but there was unease beneath their mirth.

Sabin slapped Lucien's shoulder. "We haven't heard from him in thousands of years."

A shake of Lucien's head, those mismatched eyes intense. "This is not a joke. As Ashlyn informed us, Danika is the All-Seeing Eye. One of her paintings has revealed it as so. They asked her to go to the roof. They want to steal her from us."

The words, spoken so calmly, were lethal to Sabin's disbelief. Galen. Responsible for all of his torment. His greatest enemy. Once a trusted friend.

Galen had been the one to suggest they distract Pandora and open that cursed box. Galen had been the one to laud the merits of showing the gods their mistake. Galen had been their ally—or so they'd thought.

The gods did not trust us with the safekeeping of the box, Galen had said. Have we not proven our strength, over and over again? Have we not bled for them? Have we not protected them, all these many centuries? And yet they choose a female over us. She has not half our strength!

Cameo had taken offense at that and clawed Galen's face. The demented man had laughed. Cameo had also taken offense that Pandora had been the female chosen, rather than herself. So the warriors had rallied together, confident in their success.

But Galen had planned to betray them all along, jealous for a reason that had nothing to do with the box. Lucien had been chosen by the gods as Captain of the Guard; he had not. Only later had they learned that Galen had used them to do his dirty work, the actual opening of the box. While they were carrying out his brilliant idea, he was mobilizing Pandora's army to help him cut down his "friends" so he could capture the demons himself, take credit for saving the world—and usurp Lucien's role.

At first, everything had gone smoothly. Paris had managed to lure Pandora away, for even then females had not been able to resist him. The others had stealthily approached the box. But when they reached it, a cadre of soldiers rushed them—Galen among them.

A battle quickly ensued. Bloody, violent. In the end, the box was indeed opened, the demons released—all those demons, finally free. But despite Galen's best efforts—despite their efforts—there'd been no catching them. The demons were stronger than any of them had assumed. Worse, the box had vanished like a phantom of the night as the demons devoured the flesh of Pandora's guards, piranhas who'd been starved and desperate. The screams…they haunted Sabin still.

Though Galen had turned on them and "helped" Pandora, he had played a role in the box's opening, and so the gods punished him alongside the others. Hosting the demon of Hope didn't seem like a harsh enough punishment to Sabin, but Sabin had been unable to deliver his own brand of justice. In the turbulent aftermath of their demon-curse, Galen had disappeared and Sabin had been both glad and furious. Vengeance would have been nice. Perhaps now he'd have his chance.

"How dare he do this?" Strider snapped. "Wasn't one betrayal enough for him?"

"If he's controlling the Hunters, could he also be pulling the strings at that Hunter-infested Institute Ashlyn used to work for? She once mentioned that no one had ever seen its president because he never went out in public." Maddox glanced around the room. "Galen, do you think?"

"Maybe." Sabin shrugged. "Ironic that a facility that prides itself on human superiority could be secretly run by a half demon, half immortal. How do you think he manages to keep the Hunters from knowing the truth about him? They cannot know or they would revolt. And why would Galen want us dead, anyway?"

"Why did he convince us to open the box, and then turn on us?" Strider asked. "He had to win, always, no matter the price."

"Look who's talking, Defeat," Maddox said.

"Perhaps he always planned to try to crush us, to rise above us—even the gods—and win the heavens."

Sabin gripped the dagger sheathed in his weapon belt. "Whatever his reasons, if you're right and we're about to have a cozy little family reunion, I'm going to take his head. His skull will look nice on my nightstand. Save me from having to get up to use the bathroom at night."

Paris flicked him a wry glance. "I tell the jokes here. Anyway, I wouldn't get my hopes up that he'll make an appearance."

Grinning like the insane freak that he was, Torin clapped excitedly. "Hopes up. Galen is Hope. Funny. Too bad I think you're right. For whatever reason, Galen hasn't yet revealed himself to us. He doesn't know that we know he's the leader of the Hunters."

"Then let's send him a warm fuzzy card and invite him over. And by card I mean all of his Hunters in body bags," Strider said.

"Oh, that's so wrong." Meaning, it was right. Gleeful, Gideon rubbed his hands together. "This is going to be absolutely yawn inducing."

"So," Torin said, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Did we decide to let the Hunters inside or not? They want Danika, the All-Seeing Eye, and they'll be desperate because they think she'll be able to help them find the box, ending us. Letting them inside will place them closer to her."

Sabin shook his head. "Nope, not closer. Reyes is escaping with her. She'll be moving farther away, while the Hunters close in on us."

"How's she an artifact, anyway?" Cameo grumbled.

"Gods, woman," William said. "Your voice is like death. Can you shut it until I leave the room? Please. Seriously, you're like the one woman in the world I want to resist."

She glowered over at him.

"You had better 'shut it,'" Torin snapped at the warrior, no longer grinning, "or you'll find yourself in one of Strider's body bags."

Cameo's glare became the closest thing to a grin Sabin had seen on her face in centuries. "Ashlyn said the artifacts are guarded by the monster Hydra, and Anya later confirmed it. No one has been guarding the girl."

"Perhaps Hydra used to guard her," Sabin said. "Danika's had to be around since ancient times, but obviously isn't immortal so has had to be reborn. Maybe reincarnated. Or maybe the ability is passed through her bloodline, which is why, according to the gods, the entire family has be annihilated. Or perhaps Hydra simply lost her. Hell, maybe Reyes is Hydra. You've seen how he is with her."

There was a beat of silence, then someone chortled, "Reyes is Hydra," then Lucien said, "Let them in. We'll fight them here. Safest that way."

Torin nodded, his fingers never slowing on the keyboard.

Itching with the desire to fight and fight now, Sabin studied the monitors, eight screens that spanned the entire hillside. Nighttime had long since fallen, moonlight allowing only the barest hint of light past the canopy of trees.

All of the Hunters were wearing black and had even painted their faces. But they couldn't hide from the heat sensors or even Sabin's trained eye. Besides the red blur, every rustle of leaves, every scattering of dirt gave them away.

"Shit. They're like locusts," William said. "I mean, seriously. Bugs. There's probably a hundred of them out there."

"Scared?" Sabin asked.

"Hell, no. I think I just came."

Sabin's kind of man.

"How long till they hit?" Strider asked. He shifted from one booted foot to the other, anticipation humming from him.

Torin shrugged, his long white hair shifting on his wide shoulders. "Four minutes. Maybe three. Depends on how smart they are. Some already fell in our pits, and some were killed by the hidden arrows."

As long as I get some, I'm happy, Sabin thought. "They won't storm through the front door all at once. They'll split up. They know we know they're out there, so they're not going to try to be quiet much longer. Some will stay at ground level. Some will climb through windows. Some will probably come down from helis, just in case Danika obeyed orders and went to the roof."

"Then we'll split up, as well," Lucien said. "My men and William will take the hill. Yours can have our leftovers."

Sabin grinned. "What you mean, is we'll fight the bulk of Hunters. I knew I loved you for a reason."

A chorus of chuckles rang out, just as he'd intended. Lucien and his men took off then, grinning as they headed outside. They had lived here for hundreds of years. They knew the best places to lie in wait, knew every secret passage to secure.

Unfortunately, Sabin did not. "Should we free Aeron? Let him join the fight? He's a good man to have at your side."

"Hell, no," Torin said. "He'll go for our heads, as well as the Hunters. What's the matter? You scared? Well, don't be. I'll have a monitor trained on every floor of the fortress. Program your cells to vibrate and I'll alert you as the Hunters enter, telling you where they are."

"How did I ever let you go?" Sabin asked him.

"You didn't," Torin said dryly. "I left you to follow Lucien."

"Semantics." He turned to his warriors and motioned to the hall with a tilt of his chin. "Let's do this."

Each of them nodded and stalked from the bedroom, withdrawing their phones as they walked. Sabin was behind them but quickly pulled ahead, his stride long and purposeful.

"Good day to die," Kane said.

For Hunters, it certainly was. Sabin shoved his phone back into his pocket and filled a hand with his 9 mm. He stretched the fingers of his free hand, popping his knuckles.

"Which faction do you think we're dealing with?" Strider asked. "Stefano, still?"

"It so matters," Gideon replied at the same time Kane said, "Any. All. Who cares?"

"Stefano, beyond any doubt. Late-night attack, overeager army and semiautomatics. Besides, he's the one who first captured Danika. He didn't yet know she was the Eye or he wouldn't have let her go," Sabin said, adding tightly, "He's mine. You see him, you leave him alive."

The man wanted to punish Sabin for the part he'd played in his wife's suicide. That was fine, understandable even. But Stefano kept coming after his men, would never leave them alone, and that wasn't. Sabin might have turned his back on love, but he valued his men over himself and he would not allow them to be hunted like this. "Gideon, entertainment room. You know what to do."

"Nope. I don't." Gideon branched off from the group.

"Kane, north hallway."

With a nod, Kane swerved at the next corner. One of the lightbulbs in the chandelier shattered the moment he did so, spraying glass in every direction. There was a hiss, a muttered curse. Then, of course, another bulb exploded.

Disaster. Couldn't take him anywhere, and gods knew there was no way to avoid explosions with him around. Poor Lucien.

"Cameo—" Sabin had tossed a glance over his shoulder. Cameo wasn't among his remaining warriors. Where the hell was she? Irritated, he ran his tongue over his teeth. The woman had been disappearing more and more lately. "Amun, south hallway."

No response. Not even a nod, but Amun changed directions.

"Two minutes more," Strider said, "and then the real fun begins. I doubt Lucien and his crew can kill them all outside."

Sabin flicked him a glance. "Why two minutes? How do you know?"

"Internal radar."

Before the last word left Strider's mouth, the sound of glass breaking echoed through the house. Sabin and Strider shared a grin. "Your radar sucks. Begins now, I'm thinking." He palmed his other gun, the metal a welcome weight in his hand. "West hallway for you, my friend. I'll take east."

Strider nodded, turned on his heel.

"Be careful." Sabin rushed forward, steps eating up the distance. Another window shattered, this one just ahead of him. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Little late, Torin, he thought. A moment later, three men swinging from rappel wires sailed through the now paneless window on a gust of wind.

His hands whipped up, wrists crisscrossed, his fingers hammering at the triggers as his arms moved, left going right, right going left. Boom, boom, boom. The men jerked, screamed and then sagged onto the floor.

Seeing their dying bodies, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Yet blended with it was the impatient rumble of his demon. Doubt wanted in on the action.

"Have fun," he mumbled, and could almost picture the demon rubbing its gnarled hands together in glee.

His mind was ripped open as the spirit reached across the mental plane, searching for weak thoughts to pounce upon. Well used to the experience, Sabin didn't even grimace. Good thing. The distraction could have cost him.

Two other Hunters flew through the window. He shot them as quickly and as effortlessly as he had the others. This was his life—this had always been his life. Fighting, warring, killing. From his earliest memory, he'd known enemies were not to be tolerated. That's why he'd been created, after all: fighting, warring, killing. And that's damn sure how he would take his last breath when he finally reached the end of the line. Fighting, warring, killing.

A rustle sounded behind him.

Spinning, he fired in quick succession. Two more Hunters fell, collapsing forward, shouting in pain. One of their hands reached out and touched his boot. A grenade rolled from those now-lifeless fingers. The pin had already been pulled. Shit. Quick as a blink, Sabin grabbed it and hurled it out the window, praying he didn't hurt his friends. But better it detonate outside than in.

"Fire in the hole," he shouted.

Boom.

So much for preventing explosions. The foundation of the fortress shook. Fire and smoke, screams and the pound of footsteps erupted. A wave of heat billowed into the hallway, blistering his skin. Debris whipped inside, too, and a detached tree limb slapped his face before hitting the floor.

Sabin made to spring over the bodies, only then realizing that one of the Hunters hadn't yet died. The man managed to raise his gun, smiling as he muttered, "No mercy. Isn't that your creed?" He squeezed off a shot.

The bullet slammed into Sabin's thigh, stinging. "Motherfucker!" Close-range shots were a bitch, and he knew immediately the muscle was blown to pieces. Grimacing, he unloaded a round into the Hunter's already broken body, the sound so loud Sabin's ears rang. "Yes," he spat. "That's my creed."

The man gasped his last breath a second later as blood trickled from his mouth.

You're too weak, Sabin heard Doubt whisper to one of the Hunters outside. The Lords will kill you. Most likely you won't survive to see another sunrise.

As clearly as if the Hunter were standing next to him, Sabin heard the man's reply. No. No. I'm strong. I'll kill them.

You're practically pissing your pants in fear. Fear they can sense. They'll attack you like an animal. What if they cut you up and mail your bones to your family?

Used to the stream of doubts, Sabin tuned out the whispers. His head turned left and right, left and right as he backed into the corner beside the broken window. A quick peek out the window—no Hunters about to swing inside. A glance down the hallway—no sign of Hunters there, either.

Sucking in a breath, he gazed down at his wound, his pants already glued to his skin, a bloody hole staring up at him. Fucking great. He reached down, probed the entrance and nearly screamed. It was worse than he'd thought. Twisting his wrist, reaching behind, he felt the back of his leg. There was another hole. Thankfully, the bullet had left him. Okay. Maybe not so bad, after all.

He ripped a strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt and tied it around his thigh, stanching the blood flow.

How are your men doing? Lucien's? You should hope no one dies. The Hunters outnumber you so it's possible—

"Shut up," he commanded the demon who was trying to turn the doubts on him.

Most of them have trained to keep their minds blank, Doubt whined. Only a few were open to me and they're now dead.

The demon needed to hear the thoughts of its victims before it could attack. "Poor baby," Sabin muttered. "But if you get me killed, you'll lose everything. Become crazed. Eventually be sucked back into the box."

The back of his skull rattled as the demon jolted in horror. No box. No box!

"Quiet down, then." Blessedly, the creature obeyed.

Outside, Sabin could hear the pop and whiz of gunfire, the pained gasps of humans. The slide of steel through skin and bone. He glanced into the night, remaining in the shadows as much as possible. He saw the glint of silver—blades, throwing stars—in the moonlight, arcing through the air before connecting with a target.

His gaze caught on one of his friends. Maddox was rushing forward, leapt in the air and fell upon a cluster of Hunters. For several seconds, there was a tangle of arms and legs. A blade moved quickly, fluidly, a dance of feral motion. Then there was utter stillness. Had Maddox—

The warrior pushed to his feet, dislodging lifeless bodies. Maddox turned and motioned to someone with a wave of his fingers. Reyes, who had his arm wrapped around a human female's waist, stepped into the light, but they were gone a moment later.

The All-Seeing Eye. Thank the gods I didn't kill her when I had the chance.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Shit. The patter of footsteps suddenly sounded again, catching Sabin's attention. Too late. He whipped around. Four Hunters had entered the hallway. "Found one!" he heard as they trained their weapons on him and raced forward.

"He's mine. When he recovers from my blows, he's yours."

"I will hurt him. Now, later. This is for my son, demon!"

A barrage of bullets slammed into him: shoulder, stomach, next to the fresh wound in his thigh. He'd known better than to allow himself to be distracted. Pushing past the pain, he launched forward with a roar. He fired his semiautomatics until the magazines were emptied, dropped them and spread his arms, bullets continuing to hit him.

He and the Hunters met in the middle of the hall.

They crashed together and tumbled to the floor. One of the Hunters cracked his skull into the marble so hard he didn't move again. The other three withdrew blades and tried to slice at various places on Sabin's body. But he'd expected the attack and had palmed his own during the fall.

Humans, no matter how smart, were no match for an immortal's strength and speed.

He had their necks gushing before they managed more than a few incisions. Panting, Sabin lumbered to his feet. Dizziness battered against his brain like a drum, and he swayed. This rate, and he might not live to fight Stefano. Much less Galen, if the coward ever showed his face.

He closed his eyes for a moment, fatigued, weak.

He must have blacked out, because when he refocused, a human was standing just in front of him—though out of striking distance, he noted. Not just any human, either. Stefano.

Hate rose like a tidal wave in his chest, but he didn't have the strength to rise.

"Knew it was you," Sabin said. His throat felt raw, as if blood and acid had played Search-and-Destroy with his voice box.

Stefano tsked under his tongue. "Look at you, Doubt. You must be in pain. How sad."

Sabin slowly moved his good arm behind his back, where a dagger dangled from a chain. He could feel the cold metal against his skin.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Stefano said, lifting his own arm and aiming a gun at Sabin's face.

Sabin stilled. "We both know you're not going to kill me."

"Perhaps we do. But I have no problem hurting you, taking you to the brink of death. My team includes doctors who know how to save a man who's only a heartbeat away from extinction."

"Aren't you a sweetie?" Damn, but his head was filled with a sickening fog. A fog that had nothing to do with weakness but everything to do with…drugs? Had Stefano injected him with something while he was unconscious? Sabin wouldn't put it past the fucker.

"Yes. Yes, I am. I didn't slice off your limbs as I wanted. I didn't carve Darla's name in your chest."

Hearing his lover's name from this man's lips was foul. "She hated you, you know? You think I lured her away from you, but the truth is, she ran willingly into my arms."

Stefano's nostrils flared. "Liar! She loved me! She would never have betrayed me. But you and your demon messed with her mind, changed her." His breath was sawing in and out with the force of his fury. "The last eleven years I've prayed and hoped you would take a lover so I could take her from you, but you never did and I'm through waiting. I'll take your friends, your dignity instead. And ultimately, I'll take your life."

"And such violence will make the world a better place?" he asked dryly. "What of peace and harmony?"

A tongue over teeth. A change of expression, from anger to composure, as if Sabin's questions reminded him of his purpose. "Where's the girl?"

"Maybe we sold her." Sabin straightened his fingers, and they brushed the tip of the knife. "Maybe cut her up and had her for breakfast." Sabin envied Gideon just then, hating that he himself passed out cold every time he tried to lie. Hated that the only way around it was speaking in terms of "maybe" and "probably." Anyone who knew him knew his tricks.

Stefano knew him. "Where is she, demon? She has to be nearby. You knew she'd been with us, and wouldn't want her far from your side."

Another wave of dizziness swept the corridors of his mind. Don't lose control of yourself. Don't give Stefano the upper hand.

You're wounded. He already has the upper hand.

His jaw clenched. Didn't we talk about this? If you want to live, demon, you had better turn the waterworks on the Hunter.

He's closed his mind. Needs a distraction. Make him think.

A distraction. "This brings back memories, doesn't it?" Sabin asked. "We've been in this position before, only you were the one wounded. You and your men raided my home in New York, thought to sneak in and take us while we slept. You soon learned the error of your ways. Won yourself a personal introduction to my favorite blade. Got you in the stomach, yes?"

Stefano's nostrils flared. "Yes, and you assumed I was dead. Packed up your stuff and moved on, leaving me there to heal, my hatred only growing."

Got him, Doubt crowed, then whispered into the Hunter's mind, All this planning, the loss of men, the expense of firepower, but what if it's not enough? What if the Lords escape unscathed once again?

"Tell me about the girl. The truth this time," Stefano barked. "You wouldn't have killed her. She is the Eye."

"The what now?" He'd known the Hunters had learned of Danika's ability, but now he wondered just who had told them. "Did you just say she was an eye? Her peepers were nice, but I wouldn't define the girl by them."

Even as he spoke, Doubt continued to fill Stefano's head. She could be leading the Lords to the third artifact even now. If they find the box first, there will be no way to contain the demons. Sabin will live, and you will one day die.

Stefano's eyes narrowed, the hand holding the gun shaking. "Stop that!"

Sabin blinked innocently, fingers secretly wrapping around his blade. "Stop what?"

"Stop filling my head with those poisoned thoughts. Is that what you did to Darla? Is that how you killed her?"

"She killed herself." He had to be careful. He didn't want to strike Stefano and cause the man to shoot him in the face. That kind of wound could maim him for eternity. Maybe even kill him. "You look as if your head is about to explode. Anything I can do to help? Like tell you you're working for a demon?"

Stefano's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "Play dumb if you desire. In the end, it won't save you and it won't save the girl. And don't try to sway me with your filthy lies. My leader is an angel and our cause ordained by the heavens."

Sabin saw the muscles in the man's finger twitch and knew the Hunter was only a heartbeat away from pinching the trigger. Angry as he was, he probably didn't care about keeping Sabin alive any longer.

His next words confirmed it. "I don't care what happens to your demon when you're dead. I want you gone. Punished. Once and for all."

Nope, he didn't care.

Sabin summoned a reservoir of might, twisted and rolled—and none too soon. A pop echoed, a bullet whizzing past his shoulder, burning, cutting, but thankfully not lodging. Before his opponent had time to squeeze another shot, he jumped up, kicked out his leg and connected with Stefano's ankles. When the man stumbled to the floor, landing with a thud, Sabin booted the gun out of his hand.

Somewhere in the background, he could hear the scuff of shoes against marble. Enemy? Or ally?

Stefano scrambled backward. So badly Sabin wanted to stride forward, slam his palm into the bastard's nose, cut his neck, something. But the last of his strength had all but deserted him. He was panting, still dizzy, and his muscles were clamping down on his bones, holding him immobile. He could only wait, praying it was his friends who would round the corner.

"We aren't finished," Stefano spat, standing. He looked down the hallway and paled.

Thank the gods. That meant it was Sabin's friends who were headed their way. Or one of them, at least. From his periphery he saw Gideon, who was in the process of raising a gun.

"Sabin," Gideon called. "Shit! I'm not here for you, man."

Obviously seeing no other exit, Stefano raced for the window and dove out. Unless there was a mat waiting for him on the ground, he would die when he hit. He was giving up? That easily?

Gideon didn't stop and check on Sabin. He leapt past him and rushed to the window. Sabin grinned weakly. Trained him well, he thought, black falling over his vision. His knees finally gave out and he slid to the ground.

"I totally believe what I'm seeing. Fucker was not caught by our favorite friend and his feathered wings." Pop. Pop. Gideon emptied his gun until there was a click, click, click. "Great! Nailed him."

Sabin blinked until his eyes cleared, the immortal responsible for his torment coming into view. There Galen was, long white wings outstretched and flapping delicately as he hovered just outside the window. He was tall, strong and as handsome as ever—as if thousands of years hadn't passed.

He was grinning.

Sabin thought he'd been prepared to see the warrior. Or as ready as he could be, given the shock of Lucien's revelation tonight. He wasn't.

"Now you know," Galen called, his voice as charismatic and empowering as Sabin remembered. "Now the real fun begins."

They were the last words Sabin heard before crumpling into oblivion.