The Darkest Whisper

CHAPTER 21

Chicago was cool and just a little windy. Still, the sun was like a glaring eye, following Gideon’s every move. But he liked the towering buildings and the closeness of the water; one gave him the feel of being in a big city and the other a beach. The best of two worlds.

He and the other warriors had been here several days, yet had only now found the facility they’d come for. Somehow they’d passed it over and over again. Maybe because the numbers were off, or maybe because the twenty or so red brick buildings around it were exact copies of one another. Thin but tall, at least fourteen stories, two square windows on each floor.

Despite the fact that it was so well hidden, they should not have walked past it over and over again like they had. Made him wonder if something else was going on, something more than his “maybes.” Something like magic.

A protective spell, perhaps? He’d met a few witches over the years and knew they were a powerful race. Though why any would choose to work with the Hunters was beyond him.

Finally, they’d come up with the brilliant idea of leaving Lucien out here alone, in spirit form, waiting for a Hunter to pass him. Hence another delay—Hunters weren’t always easy to spot, their clothes normal, their weapons hidden—so Lucien had followed many a human. His efforts eventually paid off and Lucien spotted a likely candidate venturing inside a building none of them had noticed—or if they had, they didn’t remember. Lucien had tagged the building with a small smear of his own blood, something Anya could track with her eyes closed.

Now everyone was settled across the street from it, hidden inside a construction site and peering through thick wooden beams as workers bustled behind them. A few people had possessed the courage to ask them to leave. A rose-scented, mismatched-eyes-swirling hypno-suggestion from Lucien, and everyone had forgotten they were even here. Gideon could scream, and they wouldn’t even blink.

Gideon wanted a power like that. Or maybe a super rage like Maddox, who could rip the world to shreds just because he was pissed. Maybe the ability to read people’s minds like Amun. Or to enjoy every cut, slash and injury inflicted upon him like Reyes. Or even to screw like a monkey like Paris. Or fly like Aeron. Or win everything like Strider. Or—he could name something he envied about every Lord of the Underworld. Even Cameo, the epitome of Misery. She could clear a room just by speaking. She could send grown men to their knees, sobbing like babies.

What could Gideon do? He could lie, that’s what. And it sucked ass. (That was not a lie.) He couldn’t tell a woman she was pretty unless she was ugly. He couldn’t tell his friends he loved them. He had to tell them he hated them. He couldn’t tell Hunters they were shitbags. He had to tell them they were sweetie pies. Talk about a nightmare—which of course he’d have to call a dream come true.

And yet, through it all, he couldn’t regret the fact that he was a demon-possessed warrior. He wore it like a badge of pride. He would have liked to act as if it disgusted him, which would have given him something in common with the others—all but Sabin and Strider, that is—but he never lied to himself.

Sometimes he thought he was the only warrior who welcomed his curse. There was nothing wrong with having a demon inside you. Nothing wrong with enjoying it, being glad you weren’t alone—not that his demon ever spoke to him like the others’ spoke to them. No, his was more a…presence in the back of his mind. Nothing wrong with being happy you were more powerful. But damn it, would it have killed the gods to stick him with Rage or Nightmare? Okay, now Nightmare would have been freaking awesome. Having the ability to turn Hunters’ nightmares into reality would be the sweetest kind of heaven.

Suddenly a pang of longing swept through him and he blinked in surprise. Longing? For what? The ability? Or the demon itself?

Gideon waved the odd sensation aside. He didn’t know if Nightmare had even been inside the box—there was another pang.

“We’ve been watching the place for over an hour, our guy has already left empty-handed and there’s been no other movement. I think it’s abandoned,” Anya said, and there was a rare trace of confusion in her tone. “But I’m sensing chaos. A freaking lot of chaos.” Chaos was the strongest source of her power, so if anyone would recognize it, it was this beautiful goddess.

“Couldn’t possibly be witches and their spells,” Gideon said.

Anya gasped. “Witches. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ve had a run-in or two thousand with them over the years. Talk about abusers of power,” she grumbled. “Wonder how they’ll feel when I abuse mine and use their black hearts as our table’s new centerpiece.”

“Perhaps I should ghost inside,” Lucien said. He would be invisible to those around him and could check things out without fear of being spotted.

“No. We talked about this,” Anya said determinedly. She shook her head. Gideon stood on her right side, and felt the silky swish of her hair. “Something’s wonky with that building, and I don’t even want your spirit in it. And now that witches might be involved…hell, no.”

Gideon adored women, and felt his skin heat at the brush of her hair. Last time he’d been with a woman had been mere hours after he’d returned from Egypt. The women of Buda knew, on some level, that he and the other Lords were different. They were considered “angels.” He hadn’t had to speak, just crook his finger, and this one had come running. But she wasn’t enough to soothe the ache inside him. They were never enough.

“So let’s keep standing here, doing nothing,” he said. Which meant, let’s raid the place, guns blazing, and well his friends knew it. They were well-versed in Gideon Speak. They had to be.

If he even attempted to utter a truth, any kind of truth, sharp pain burned through him. Pain far worse than one person should ever have to endure. Like knives dipped in acid, covered in salt and topped off with venom, then stabbed into his gut and raked all the way from his brain to his feet over and over again.

“We didn’t survive a bomb a while back,” he added, because yeah, they had. Only a few months had passed since the blast in question and he still remembered the shock and pain of it. But he would willingly endure it again. Too long had passed since he’d sunk his blade or fired off a round into his enemy. The dry spell made him twitchy. “So we damn sure can’t survive anything else they throw at us. Even spells.”

Gideon was proof the Lords could not only survive a bunch of shit but also come out grinning. Once, Hunters managed to capture and imprison him. The next three months of his life had been torture. Literally. He would rather have roasted in hell than endure the poking, prodding, testing and beatings that took him to the brink of death, only to be revived so that he could be beaten again.

Sabin had found and saved him, actually carting Gideon over his shoulder because Gideon had been unable to walk. They’d just cut off his feet to watch them regenerate. Perhaps that was why Gideon loved the warrior so much. Would do anything for him. I’ll kill a few Hunters just for him. That Sabin wasn’t here, when the boss man lived for this kind of shit…

It was the Harpy’s fault, he was sure. Never had Sabin been so obsessed with a woman, locking himself away with her, ignoring his duties. Gideon was glad his friend had found someone, but unsure what it meant for their war.

“I have an idea,” Strider said. Strider always had ideas. Since victory was necessary for his continued good health, he often planned and strategized for hours, days, weeks before marching into battle. “Ashlyn found the immortals for the Hunters. Hell, she probably found the witches for them. So we’ll just have her find one for us. Our witch can undo whatever spell their witch cast, if it’s actually a spell we’re dealing with, and boom, victory.”

“Time is not our friend right now. We need these kids out of our enemy’s hands. We need to return to searching for the box,” Lucien said.

“But, baby,” Anya said, worry in her voice.

“I’ll be fine, love. I won your heart, I can do anything.” Lucien kissed her, lingering despite the urgency in his tone, before disappearing completely. The human workers continued to bustle around them, oblivious. If they could see and hear the warriors, they gave no indication.

Anya sighed, dreaming. “Gods, that man revs my engine.”

Reyes chuckled.

Strider rolled his eyes.

Amun remained as stoic as ever.

No, not stoic, Gideon thought. But edged with something dark. Lines of tension branched from the man’s dark eyes and set mouth. His shoulders were stiff, as though the muscles were knotted. The last trip inside the mind of that Hunter in the pyramid must have really messed him up.

If there were anything Gideon could do to help him, he would do it. Gideon loved the silent giant. No one was kinder, no one was more caring. As Gideon had recovered from his footbotomy, Amun had been the one to bring him food, make sure his bandages were clean and even carry him outside for fresh air.

Not knowing what else to do, he switched places with Strider so that he was standing next to Amun, and slapped the big guy on the back. Amun didn’t face him, but his lips did twitch into a small smile.

“Quick, someone distract me,” Anya said. “I’m bored.”

Everyone groaned. A bored Anya was a troublesome Anya. But Gideon knew the truth. He still heard the worry in the goddess’s voice. She didn’t like to be parted from Lucien.

“We totally could not play How Am I Going To Kill The Hunters,” he suggested.

“I’ll stab them,” Reyes said instantly, the gleam in his dark eyes ferocious.

“I’ll shoot them,” Strider replied. “In the groin.”

“I’ll snap their necks,” Anya said, rubbing her palms together, “then make them watch me cut out their intestines.” She’d do it, too. Anyone who threatened Lucien ended up on her Must Torture list. “No need to tell us you’d kiss them, Gideon. We already know.”

A symphony of chuckles abounded.

So much for trying to be kind to Anya. He flipped each one of them off.

“I know what we can do,” Reyes said. Normally he had a dagger in each hand and was cutting himself as he spoke. Not today. Not while parted from Danika. That was a pain all its own, he often said. “Let’s take bets on how Sabin’s doing with the Harpy.”

“Man has balls, that’s for sure,” Strider said. “Gwen’s pretty, but anyone who can rip out your throat…” He shuddered.

“Hey!” Anya leveled them with a scowl. “That wasn’t Gwen’s fault. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with performing a throat extraction on a Hunter. Anyway, the way I hear it, she was scared. You don’t scare a Harpy and live to brag. That’s, like, one of the first things they teach you in deity school. The entire race is just violent by nature. I mean, you’ve met Gwen’s sisters, right?”

This time, everyone shuddered.

“Sabin is a lucky bastard,” Gideon said.

Anya’s gaze locked on him, but her expression was suddenly dazed, as if she saw past him. A hum of power drifted from her, wrapping around him, squeezing. When she focused, a smile bloomed. “Better watch it,” she said. “Or you’re going to be fated to love a female far worse than a Harpy. The gods are fun that way.”

The heat drained from his cheeks, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Do you know something?” She was a goddess and potentially privy to information they weren’t.

“Maybe,” she said with a dainty shrug.

“Don’t you dare tell me!” He loved women, he did. But take one permanently, when a single one had never truly satisfied him? Hell, no. Violent as his life was, he needed something extreme to push him over the edge. When his partners asked how to please him, he had to tell them the opposite. How much worse would it be if he were strapped with a single female? He would never get sex the way he truly craved, not even accidentally.

“I’d absolutely tell you if I knew.”

She was lying. He knew she was. Lying was a passion of hers. How did Lucien stand her? Hey, wait a sec, he thought, disgusted.

Suddenly Lucien materialized, his scarred face confused as everyone crowded around him. “The place is furnished but abandoned. No paperwork, but I did see clothing strewn about. Sizes only children can wear. Must have left in a hurry.”

Frowning, Strider rubbed his temple. “That means we’re too late, that we made the trip for nothing.”

“There are strange markings on the wall, though,” the scarred warrior added. “I could not decipher them. I want to flash you in one at a time so if the outside area is still being monitored, we won’t be spotted. Surely someone among us will have seen the markings before and know what they mean.”

Didn’t take long. Within five minutes they were inside the building. Gideon was swaying from dizziness—flashing sucked—Strider was laughing, Reyes pale and clutching his stomach, Anya dancing around the empty room, and Amun staring into the distance.

“This way,” Lucien said.

They stalked down narrow corridors, their booted footsteps echoing. Gideon traced a finger over the wall; it was painted a sickening gray. That had been the color of his cell while in captivity. The only furniture he’d been given was a bed with wrist and ankle straps.

Bad memories. He didn’t like to venture down that brain path unless he was in the middle of a fight. Helped channel his rage. He looked around. There were multiple bedrooms. Well, they were more like barracks, with fifteen beds to a space. There were also what appeared to be classrooms.

Left, right, right, left and they entered a gymnasium, everyone remaining on guard. One wall was mirrored with a bar in front of it. For…ballet? he wondered. Of course, he thought next. Killers could be more effective when they were flexible.

Three of the walls were gray, just like the hall. But the last was painted in a multitude of colors. Gideon couldn’t make out a single picture, only sharp, jagged lines and sweeping arches. They were a mess.

“It’s lovely,” he muttered.

“It’s also a spell, as we suspected,” Anya replied.

Bodies closed around him. Fingers were soon tracing, eyes following, searching for patterns.

“I’ve seen this before,” Reyes said darkly. “In the books I used to learn more about Anya.”

When Anya had first come to them, no one had known if she meant them harm. Not their fault, either. The woman was renowned throughout the ages for the trouble she caused.

“Oh, Panie. Your interest still flatters me, but really, get over your crush. I’m taken. Now about the spell. They definitely used the old language,” she said. “Though they added their own flare, and I’m having trouble deciphering certain words. That one means dark, that one means power, and that one…helpless, I think.”

“I don’t want to leave now,” Gideon said, spine suddenly tingling in warning. Danger was nearby.

Reyes sighed. “The lying is already getting on my nerves.”

“I care. I do,” Gideon told him dryly. “My heart is actually hurting for you. And just so you know, I can go without lying just like you can go without cutting yourself.”

Another sigh. Then, “Sorry,” Reyes said. “I shouldn’t have gone there. Lie all you want.”

“I won’t.”

Strider belted out a laugh and slapped him on the shoulder.

Gideon knew he was annoying. He did. But he couldn’t stop.

Suddenly Anya, who had been muttering under her breath, reading, gasped. “Oh my gods.” One step, two, she backed away from the wall. She was trembling, and in all the weeks Gideon had known her, all the battles they’d fought together, he’d never seen the courageous female tremble. “Flash us, Lucien. Now. All of us, if possible.”

Lucien didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time asking why. He stalked to her and wrapped his arms around her, clearly intending to flash her first—because whether she knew it or not, he couldn’t transport more than he could touch. But it was too late. Dark, metal shades fell over the room’s two windows, drowning out all hint of light.

Down the hall, he could hear the same shades closing over the other windows.

Gideon spun around, palming his daggers. He wanted to lash out, but it was now so dark he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, much less his friends. He didn’t want to cut the wrong person.

“Lucien,” Anya cried.

“I’m here, baby, but I can’t flash. I can’t seem to force my body to dematerialize anymore.” Lucien had never sounded so grim. “It’s like there’s some sort of a magnetic shield locking my spirit to my body.”

“There is,” Anya said. “Magic. I activated it the rest of the way when I read the spell aloud.”

There was an ominous pause as everyone digested that, realization bubbling in Gideon’s throat, practically choking him.

“What do the designs mean?” Strider finally asked.

“Most of it is the spell, locking us in the dark, our powers gone, our bodies helpless. The last line, though, is a message to all of you. It says, Welcome to hell, Lords of the Underworld. You’ll be here until you die.”