The Darkest Passion

CHAPTER SEVEN

SEVEN DAYS. Seven damn days, and not a single result. Strider, keeper of Defeat, wiped his sweaty face with a towel. He propped himself against the boulder at his back and surveyed his surroundings. The sun was shining brightly, hotter here than it had ever been in Buda. Pristine water gently washed toward this island near Rome, the soft hum of it a balm for his ears.

All that remained of the Temple of the Unspoken Ones were battered pillars identical to the one at his back—some fallen, some standing—and an altar still stained and splattered with crimson. There was a vibration of energy in the air. Energy that caused his hair to stand on end. And yet, despite the altar and the energy, Strider felt an odd sort of kinship with the place. After all, a lot of people considered him an unspoken one. Evil and unnecessary.

Not that he agreed. He was paired with Defeat and couldn’t lose a single challenge without suffering for it. Where was the evil in that? Wasn’t like he killed indiscriminately just to win an Xbox game or anything.

Anyway. Last time he’d been here, archaeologists had been studying every nook and cranny. Hunters had been among their numbers, hoping to find one of Cronus’s powerful artifacts or even Pandora’s box itself. They weren’t here anymore. Why?

Though the temple had risen from the sea only a few months ago, trees had already grown, tall and lush and green. They circled the area where the temple had once stood proud, but they didn’t quite touch that temple. They actually arched away from it, as if afraid of getting too close.

What was here that hadn’t been the last time he’d visited was bones. Human bones. The archaeologists’, most likely. What had killed them, he could only guess. There was no trace of flesh or blood. Yeah, an animal could have devoured so many people in the handful of months since he’d last been here, but wouldn’t there have been some trace of the feasting? Well, besides the bones. A bloodstain here, a piece of rotten meat there. Claw marks where the humans had fought for freedom. Footprints where they had tried to run away.

There weren’t.

So. What could consume so cleanly? A godly creature, that’s what.

Anya, (minor) goddess of Anarchy and Lucien’s girlfriend-slash-soon-to-be-wife—horror of horrors, the naughty little vixen had decided to plan a wedding for herself—didn’t know much about these Unspoken Ones, so wouldn’t verify his idea that they had turned the humans into meals-on-heels. The gods had never, well, spoken of them, she’d said, so she wasn’t sure what they could do. The gods had feared them, however.

Still, Strider wasn’t leaving. He had to find those artifacts. He had to find Pandora’s box. He had to destroy the Hunters. Finally. His life depended on it. Hell, his peace of mind depended on it. Every day Defeat spoke a little louder inside his head, so every day he was reminded more and more of the first days of his possession. Days he wanted to forget.

His demon had been a roar, a constant scream, the consuming need to challenge everyone he encountered driving him. No matter the consequences. Kill a friend? So be it. As long as he won.

He’d hated himself back then. His friends had probably hated him, too. Well, not true. They’d been as wild from their demons as he’d been from his. It had taken centuries to learn how to control themselves. But while they now had control of their darker halves, he was edging closer to its loss.

“Looks like someone decided to take his break before the rest of us,” a raspy voice teased from behind him.

Strider turned. Gwen, a redheaded beauty who was stronger and more vicious than any of the Lords, approached him, a glistening bottle of water in her hand. She tossed it at him, and he easily caught it. Within seconds, he had the entire thing drained. Gods, the cold felt good as the liquid moistened his dry throat.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Slowly she grinned, and he knew exactly why Sabin had fallen in love with her. Naughty women ruled. “I stole it from Sabin.”

“I heard that, wife,” Sabin said, striding around the boulder across from them. He increased his speed until he reached Gwen’s side, then draped an arm around her shoulders.

Immediately she reached up and twined her fingers with his. She even leaned her head against his side, trusting the man to hold her up and keep her safe. They might enjoy one-upping each other, but they were unified. That much was clear.

Their pairing had initially shocked Strider, truth be told. After all, Gwen was Galen’s daughter and Galen was leader of their greatest enemy. More than that, Sabin was the keeper of Doubt and Gwen had been a timid little mouse the first time the two had met. The demon had practically eaten her alive.

Now, there wasn’t a more confident woman alive. How the two had reached this point and made things work, Strider wasn’t sure. He was just glad he wasn’t the one in a committed relationship. He liked women—even the un-naughty ones. Oh, did he like women. But relationships? Not so much.

He’d had a few girlfriends over the years, and at first, he’d loved it. Loved the commitment, the exclusivity. When they’d discovered his penchant for winning, however, most of them had tried to work it to their advantage.

“Bet you can’t make me fall in love with you.”

“I doubt you can convince me that we’re meant to be together forever.”

He’d played that game too many times before, winning hearts he’d no longer had any interest in winning. Now, he enjoyed them once—maybe twice—fine, maybe three times—and then it was goodbye old, hello new.

“What’s this about breaking early?” Sabin ushered Gwen to the altar and leaned his hip against the stone. He guided her in front of him, again wrapped her in his arms and held her tight against his chest, her head resting under his chin.

Strider shrugged. “I was thinking.” Rather than examining the stones for symbols or messages as he’d been ordered.

Sabin had been Strider’s leader his entire life. Yeah, Lucien had been commander of the elite army while they’d lived in the heavens, but it had been Sabin that Strider had looked to for advice and guidance. Still did. The man would have beheaded his own mother if it meant winning a battle. Not that any of them had a mother. They’d been born fully formed. But Strider valued that kind of commitment.

“Did I hear someone say it was break time?” Kane, keeper of Disaster, asked with a grin of his own as he rounded a corner. His hair, which was a mix of brown, black and gold, as well as his eyes, which were a mix of brown and green, gleamed in the amber sunlight.

Had he always been that colorful? Strider wondered. They’d been together forever, but Strider didn’t think he’d ever seen the man so…happy. Almost glowing. Maybe the temple agreed with him.

A gust of wind suddenly rose among the trees. A branch snapped off and flew toward the men. Of course, it smacked Kane in the back of the head. Used to such catastrophes, his stride didn’t even slow. Maybe the temple didn’t agree with him.

Strider chuckled. That wouldn’t be the last of Kane’s woes, he was sure. Rocks tended to fall and ground tended to crack whenever the warrior arrived at the scene.

Behind him, gravel crunched under boots and Strider turned again. Amun, Reyes and Maddox, the last of their group, were closing the distance.

“Break?” Amun said, his deep voice almost raw from disuse. He was dark from head to toe and as the keeper of Secrets, he rarely spoke, too afraid he would reveal devastating truths the warriors wouldn’t be able to recover from. But as he’d recently spilled many of those secrets, anyway, to calm Gideon from a rage, he’d been a bit more talkative.

The change did Strider’s heart good.

“Guess so,” he replied.

Sabin rolled his eyes. “Look what you’ve started.”

“What’s wrong with a break? I’m tired. And gods know we’re not making any progress.” Maddox was, perhaps, their most dangerous member. Or rather, had been. Before he’d met his Ashlyn. Now, there was a gentleness to his violet eyes that none of the other Lords possessed.

Too bad that gentleness only extended to the delicate Ashlyn. Maddox was paired with the demon of Violence and when that boy erupted… Ouch. Strider had been on the receiving end of the man’s need to hurt and maim a time or two. And yes, Strider had won, even then, dishing more punches and slices than he’d received. He just couldn’t help himself.

“We’ve searched the grounds, x-rayed the stones hoping to find something inside them, and spilled our own blood hoping to draw the Unspoken Ones out with a sacrifice.” Reyes, as dark as Amun but far more tense, splayed his arms, still cut and bleeding from his latest offering. Or from self-torture. One never knew with Reyes. “What’s left for us to do?”

Everyone looked to Sabin.

“They were the ones who told us Danika was the All-Seeing Eye. I don’t understand why they won’t help us out again,” the warrior said, his own frustration clear.

The All-Seeing Eye could see into heaven and hell. She knew what the gods were planning, what the demons were planning, as well as the outcome of all those plans—but not necessarily at the right time. Details came to her in spurts, out of sequence.

Sabin spun in a circle, calling, “All we want to know is where the other two artifacts are. Is that too much to ask?”

“Just help us, damn it,” Kane shouted, getting into the spirit.

“Otherwise, I’ll rip each stone from this island and toss them into the sea,” Maddox added.

“And I’ll help him,” Strider vowed. “Only I’ll piss on them first.”

As his voice echoed from the rocks, the air seemed to thicken with challenge. The insects in the trees even quieted.

“Whoa—maybe you shouldn’t have threatened to violate their property,” Reyes muttered.

Oopsie.

Next, the world around them faded, leaving only the pillars and the altar. Only, every one of the pillars was suddenly upright and the altar was now gleaming white marble scrubbed clean of debris.

Unsure what was happening, each of the warriors stiffened, straightened and grabbed for a weapon.

Strider was proficient with both guns and knives, but usually preferred to slice and dice. Today, however, he’d make use of his Sig Sauer. He kept the muzzle down, but that didn’t mean it was any less dangerous. He could aim and fire in less time than it took to blink.

“What’s happening?” Gwen whispered.

“Don’t know, but be ready for anything,” Sabin warned.

Any other warrior would have shoved the woman behind his back to protect her. Not so with Sabin. Men and women had always been equals to him, and even though he loved Gwen more than life itself and wanted her protected more than he wanted victory, everyone here knew that Gwen was the strongest among them. She’d saved more than one Lord already.

Strider, though, did inch to the front—of her, of everyone. That sense of challenge… He had to be the one to win this thing.

His demon was already chanting. Win…win…must win…can’t lose.

I know, he growled. I will.

He pivoted, gaze roving, searching. Finally, he spotted his prey. A huge man—no, that thing couldn’t be called a man. A huge beast had materialized between two of the pillars.

Even as Strider’s stomach tightened, he took his quarry’s measure. The beast wasn’t dressed, but then, he didn’t need clothing. His skin was furred like that of a horse. Snakes danced and hissed from his head, their thin bodies acting as his hair. Two long fangs protruded over his bottom lip. He had human hands, but his feet were hooves.

Muscle was stacked upon muscle on his torso, and his nipples were pierced by two large silver rings. Metal chains circled his neck, wrists and ankles, and those chains kept him tethered to the pillars.

“Who are you?” Strider demanded. No need to ask what the thing was. Ugly as shit covered it.

He hadn’t expected an answer, but damn if the ensuing silence didn’t irritate him.

Then, beside the beast, between two other pillars, another monster appeared, and Strider blinked at the sudden addition. This one was male, as well, but only the lower half of his body was covered by carmine fur. His chest was a mass of scars. He, too, was anchored in place by chains.

Still. Those chains didn’t detract from the menace radiating from either of them.

“My gods. Look,” Kane breathed, pointing.

A third beast appeared, and this one was female. Like the men, her torso was bare. Her breasts were large, her nipples also pierced, though with diamonds rather than silver hoops. A leather skirt wrapped around her waist and thighs. She stood in profile, and Strider could see the small horns protruding from her spine. The horns he actually liked—they’d give a man something to hold on to when things got rough. Her face, however, was beaked like a bird’s. So bed her? No. She, too, was furred and chained.

In quick succession, a fourth and fifth appeared, both so tall and wide they were like living mountains. They didn’t have snakes for hair, though. What they had was worse. One was bald, yet shadows seemed to be seeping from his skull. Thick and black and putrid. The other had blades. Small but sharp, they spiked from his scalp, each glistening with something clear and wet.

The Unspoken Ones.

Without a doubt. Strider let out a breath. They should have remained the Unseen Ones, as well. ’Cause damn.

Win.

No challenge has been issued yet, moron. Thank the gods, he added, just for himself. Would he be able to defeat these things?

The female stepped forward, her chains rattling. The Lords held their ground, and this seemed to please her. She grinned, her too-white teeth sharp as razors. Thankfully, she couldn’t get far, couldn’t reach them, bound to the pillars as she was.

“Once more, you have darkened our doorstep.” Her voice rang with the cries of a thousand souls trapped in hell, desperately trying to escape. They screamed from her, echoing through the temple, their tears practically soaking him. “And once more, we grant you the honor of our presence. But do not think, even for a moment, that your threats moved us. Desecrate our temple, will you? Go ahead. However, I suggest you say goodbye to your cock before you do so.”

Win!

Not a challenge, not a challenge, not a fucking challenge. Please don’t let that be a challenge. He had a feeling the woman meant what she’d said. If he whipped out Stridy Monster to relieve himself, he’d lose Stridy Monster. And there was no greater tragedy than that. Ask anyone who’d been with him.

“Uh, our apologies,” Sabin said in an effort to smooth things over.

“Accepted,” she replied easily.

That ease seemed out of place. Wrong.

Damn. Where was Gideon when you needed him? As the keeper of Lies, that boy knew when someone spoke true—or not. Strider had been apprehensive since the beasts had appeared, but now he wondered, what was their angle? The question churned his apprehension into straight-up fear.

“Now, the reason for our appearance,” she continued. “Your determination to defeat your enemy is admirable, and we have chosen to reward you for it.”

A reward? From these creatures? His formerly tight stomach now did a little dance: twist, twist, knot, twist, twist, knot. Wrong, he thought again.

“So you’ll help us?” Reyes asked. Gullible fool. “Help us defeat the Hunters at long last?”

A laugh. “As you said yourself, we have already helped you. And we did so without seeking anything in return.” Her gaze, so much like a black hole he already felt as if he were falling, shifted, landed on him and pinned him in place. “Did we not?”

Just like that, understanding dawned. Anytime you wanted to hook someone on your drug, you gave them the first taste for free. Their aid had been the drug, and the Lords were now the addicts.

They would have to pay for any further assistance, Strider realized. And pay dearly. Ding, ding, ding. Finally, right.

“Perhaps we can help each other,” Kane suggested, the ground cracking under his feet. He hopped to the side to avoid falling into a black hole of his own.

Her chin lifted in haughty disdain. “We need nothing from you.”

“We’ll see,” Sabin said, tone unconcerned. But Strider could see the wheels turning in the back of his friend’s mind. “Do you know where the Cloak of Invisibility is? And the Paring Rod?”

“Yes.” She offered them another grin, this one loaded like a gun and ready to fire. “We do.”

Yep, I’m hooked.

Win! Defeat repeated.

Strider licked his lips in anticipation, bones already humming at the thought of victory against the Hunters. Finally, the Super Bowl of wins, here for the taking. Once they had those artifacts, they could find and destroy Pandora’s box. That wouldn’t destroy the Hunters, of course, but it would ruin their plans to use the box to draw the demons out of the Lords, killing the warriors.

Man couldn’t live without demon, not anymore. They were two halves of a whole, bonded forever. Defeat was as much a part of him as Stridy Monster.

The demons were equally bound, though they wouldn’t die if man and spirit were parted. However, they would be crazed, forever hungry to feed their depraved needs but unable to quench themselves.

After the Hunters had killed Baden, the demon of Distrust had sprung from his body, tortured, screaming, destroying everyone it encountered. Strider had watched, helpless.

Worse, that demon was still out there, still causing havoc.

That was the reason the Hunters no longer sought to kill him and his friends. They didn’t want the demons free and unable to be captured. But with the box, they could do both.

Yet thanks to Danika, they now knew the Hunters had a new plan of action. Somehow, they had found the demon of Distrust. They had managed to capture it and were trying to force it to possess another body. If they succeeded… Strider shuddered. They wouldn’t have to wait for the box. They could kill the Lords, place their demons inside bodies of their choosing and do whatever they wished.

They claimed they wanted a world without evil, but would they say the same thing if they were in control of all that evil? Hell, no. Power wasn’t easy to give up. As he well knew. No way he’d be able to give up his. He liked winning—and not just because of his demon.

“So what do you want from us?” Sabin asked, cautious now. “In exchange for those artifacts?”

Strider almost grinned. Sabin didn’t like miscommunication. He wanted the facts laid out so everyone knew what they were getting into.

The Unspoken One laughed, and it was a far crueler sound than before. Maybe because this time, she mocked with that laughter. “Think you it is that simple? That you give us a token and in return we give you that which you desire most? How wrong you are, demon. You are not the only ones who seek what we have to offer. Behold.”

Above the altar, the air thickened, coagulated, and colors sparked to life before bleeding together and forming what seemed to be a movie of some kind. Strider strained to decipher the images—then tensed as Galen came into view. His blond hair, his handsome features, his white feathered wings. As usual, he wore a white robe, as if he truly were an angel rather than a demon-possessed warrior like the rest of them.

Beside him was a tall, slender female. She was pretty in a sturdy sort of way, with sharp features, dark hair and pale skin. He’d seen her before, he thought, flipping through mental files of ancient Greece, ancient Rome and everywhere else he’d been throughout his very long life, but coming up blank. He pored through more recent times, but again—oh, shit, there. Danika, he realized. Danika had painted her. An enemy.

Shit, he thought again. Danika had painted this woman in a scene set twentysomething years in the past, yet nothing about her had changed. There wasn’t an age line on her.

She wasn’t human, then.

Today she was dressed in black leather and strapped to a table, but she wasn’t struggling against her bonds. There was determination in her expression, her gaze following— No. Surely not. That couldn’t be… It wasn’t possible… But as Strider watched, he saw a ghostlike creature bouncing from one corner of the room to another. Its eyes were red, its face skeletal, its teeth long and sharp.

No question; it was a demon. A High Lord, like the very being that possessed Strider.

Strider stopped breathing, every muscle in his body clenching his bones.

“Baden,” Amun rasped in that unused voice of his, so much longing in his tone that it actually hurt to hear. There’d been something about Baden, something they’d all gravitated to. Something they’d all needed. They’d loved Baden more than they’d loved themselves. More than they loved each other.

Still did, despite his death.

“No damn way.” Kane shook his head almost violently.

Strider agreed. No damn way. That demon did not carry the essence of their friend. Couldn’t possibly. But there was something familiar about that ghostly being…something gut-wrenching.

“Enter her,” Galen commanded. “Enter her and your torment will end. You’ll finally have a host. You’ll finally be able to feel, to smell, to taste. Don’t you remember how wonderful that is? Finally you’ll be able to destroy, to shred human trust as you were meant to do.”

Shred human trust. As Distrust was meant to do. No, he thought again.

The spirit groaned, and its speed increased. Clearly, it was agitated. Did it know what was happening? Did it want another host? Or was it simply too crazed to understand?

“Please,” the woman begged. “I need you. I need you so badly.”

So. She was willing. That didn’t mean she knew what would happen to her if she got her wish. For the first century—at least—there would be no remnants of the person she was. She would be fully demon and many, many humans would suffer because of that.

“Do it,” Galen continued. “It’s what you want. What you need. All you have to do is touch her and relief is yours. What could be easier?”

Could the demon understand? he wondered again. As keeper of Hope, Galen could make anyone or thing crave a future they never would have wanted without his influence. Even a demon. That’s how he’d formed his Hunters, by convincing them the world would be a better place without the Lords. A utopia of peace and prosperity.

As Galen crooned persuasively, even Strider was affected. He wanted to touch the female. There would be relief…his future would be assured…better…

The demon darted toward the woman, changed its mind, then darted in the other direction. Oh, yes. It understood.

Don’t do it, Strider projected. He wanted his friend back, yes. More than anything in the world. And in some ways, the demon of Distrust was his friend. Essence of Baden or not. But he didn’t want his friend to be housed in the body of his enemy.

“Do it!” Galen snarled. “Do it! Now.”

On and on the spirit circled the room’s ceiling.

Impatient, Galen threw up his hands. “Fine. Forget it. You can spend the rest of eternity the way you’ve spent the last few thousand years. Miserable. Hungry. Unfulfilled. We’re leaving.” He reached out to release the woman’s bonds.

There was another groan, then a growl, and then the spirit was again darting from one corner to another, gaining speed, nothing but a blur. It fell…fell…and finally slammed into the female’s stomach.

Had she not been tied down, she would have hurt herself, so intense was her sudden thrashing. Thrashing that increased with every second that passed. She grunted and groaned, her muscles spasming, her features contorting. Then the screams began.

No. Godsdamn it, no. Strider nearly fell to his knees.

Galen smiled an evil smile of satisfaction. “It’s done. At last. Now all we have to do is wait and see if she survives.”

The door to the room swung open and a group of his followers marched inside. Such perfect timing. They must have been watching nearby on monitors.

“Do we return to the temple, Great One?” the one in front asked.

Galen’s answer was lost as the vision wavered, then disappeared altogether.

Time suddenly seemed suspended, caught in threads of horror and shock.

Sabin was the first to shake himself loose. “What the hell just happened?”

What happened? Hell’s gates had just opened, the repercussions he’d already contemplated suddenly real. If the woman survived, Hunters would now be out for blood, as Strider had feared. They would no longer content themselves with merely injuring the Lords. They would crave death. And if their demons were freed, those demons would be caught, paired with someone new, and Galen could build an army of demonic immortals all under his command.

“Bring the images back,” Maddox commanded. “Show us what followed the possession.”

“Such a tone will earn you nothing but discontent, Violence, for your enemy wants what you want. The Paring Rod.” The Unspoken One splayed her arms, her nails so long they curled back into her fingers. “We will choose whom to bestow such a blessing upon.”

Maddox popped his jaw before bowing his head. “My apologies.”

“What do you want from us? Name it, and it’s yours.” Strider didn’t care what they desired. He would give it to them.

She smiled, as if she’d expected nothing less. “If you wish to acquire the Rod, you will bring us the head of your king.”

There was another beat of horrified silence.

“Wait. You want…Cronus’s head?” Gwen swept her gaze over the Lords. “The god king?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

Could Strider give that to them? The god king had helped him win several battles. The god king was on his side and would do anything to destroy Galen and the Hunters. So…kill him? Kill the most powerful immortal ever to live? And if he failed, make an enemy of him?

“Just how are we supposed to do that?” Kane demanded.

“I told you it wouldn’t be simple. But though he is a god, and destroying him will prove the most difficult task of your existence, he is very much like you,” the Unspoken One replied. “More so than you have realized. Use the knowledge to your advantage.”

Kane shook his head, and a lock of hair slapped his eye. “But he’s on our team.”

“Is he?” Another cruel laugh. “Do you not think he will slay you the moment he no longer has need of you? Besides, if you do not bring us his head, your enemy will. And they will receive our prize.”

Strider’s eyes widened, another answer finally sliding into place. This was why Galen would try for Cronus’s head. This was why Danika had predicted what she had.

They couldn’t allow Galen to curry favor with these beings. The consequences could be too great—far greater than pissing off Cronus. Shit. Damn it! Fuck. No curse word seemed strong enough.

“Why do you want him dead?” Strider asked. As Sabin always said, knowledge was power. Perhaps in the answer, they could find redemption.

The creature’s teeth gnashed together. “He has made us slaves and we will not tolerate such a fate. Surely you understand.”

Understand, yes. For too long, he’d been a slave to his demon. But there was no redemption in her answer. These beings were determined. They would not be swayed.

What would happen if they were freed? Roaming unfettered? Nothing good, that much he could guess.

“You need time to think,” she continued. “Time we will grant you. And to prove our magnanimous intentions, we will even give you another gift. Enjoy. I know we will.”

Her eerie, smiling face was the last thing Strider saw before he and the others found themselves transported to another location, a jungle—Hunters suddenly surrounding them.