The Immortal--A Novel Read online

  Praise for Gena Showalter

  “One of the premier authors of paranormal romance. Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spellbinding story!”

  —Kresley Cole, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “I love this world and these alpha males—this is Gena Showalter at her best!”

  —J.R. Ward, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Shadow and Ice

  “Gena Showalter never fails to dazzle.”

  —Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author

  “Showalter…rocks me every time!”

  —Sylvia Day, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”

  —Lori Foster, New York Times bestselling author

  “Showalter makes romance sizzle on every page!”

  —Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author

  “A fascinating premise, a sexy hero and non-stop action, The Darkest Night is Showalter at her finest.”

  —Karen Marie Moning, New York Times bestselling author

  “Sexy paranormal romance at its hottest! The Gods of War series is my new obsession.”

  —Christine Feehan, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Shadow and Ice

  Also available from Gena Showalter

  From HQN

  Heartless

  The Warlord

  The Darkest King

  Frost and Flame

  Shadow and Ice

  The Darkest Warrior

  Can’t Let Go

  Can’t Hardly Breathe

  The Darkest Promise

  The Darkest Torment

  The Harder You Fall

  The Hotter You Burn

  The Closer You Come

  All For You (anthology featuring

  “The One You Want”)

  The Darkest Touch

  Burning Dawn

  After Dark (duology featuring “The Darkest Angel”)

  The Darkest Craving

  Beauty Awakened

  After Moonrise (duology with P.C. Cast)

  Wicked Nights

  The Darkest Seduction

  The Darkest Surrender

  The Darkest Secret

  The Darkest Lie

  The Darkest Passion

  Into the Dark

  The Darkest Whisper

  The Darkest Pleasure

  The Darkest Kiss

  The Darkest Night

  The Vampire’s Bride

  The Nymph King

  Jewel of Atlantis

  Heart of the Dragon

  Twice as Hot

  Playing with Fire

  Catch a Mate

  Animal Instincts

  Prince of Forever

  Prince of Stone

  From Harlequin Nonfiction

  Dating the Undead (with Jill Monroe)

  From Inkyard Press

  The Glass Queen

  The Evil Queen

  Everlife

  Lifeblood

  Firstlife

  A Mad Zombie Party

  The Queen of Zombie Hearts

  Through the Zombie Glass

  Alice in Zombieland

  Twisted

  Unraveled

  Intertwined

  GENA SHOWALTER

  THE IMMORTAL

  Gena Showalter is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of the spellbinding Lords of the Underworld series, the entrancing Gods of War series, two young adult series—Everlife and the White Rabbit Chronicles—and the highly addictive Original Heartbreakers series. She’s hard at work on her next novel, a tale featuring an alpha male with a dark side and the strong woman who brings him to his knees. You can learn more about Gena, her menagerie of rescue dogs and all her upcoming books at genashowalter.com or Facebook.com/genashowalterauthor.

  To Jill Monroe and Naomi Lane for the read(s), the catches and the suggestions. Ladies, you are two of the best people on Earth, and I love and adore you. Obviously any mistakes in the story are your fault.

  To Helen Mays and Wendy Higgins for being all-around amazing. Thank you!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Epilogue

  The Story

  An Excerpt

  PROLOGUE

  Excerpted from The Book of Stars

  Author unknown

  Warning: Living text subject to change

  They are ancient warriors, evil to the core and loyal only to one another. Known as the Astra Planeta, Wandering Stars, Warlords of the Skies—the beginning of the end—they travel from world to world, wiping out enemy armies. Drawn to war, they turn even the smallest skirmish into a travesty of pain and bloodshed.

  To glimpse these warriors means you’ll soon greet your death.

  Having no moral compass, they kill without mercy, steal without qualm, and destroy without guilt. Their aim is simple, their goal unchanged. Win a blessing, whatever the cost. Five hundred years of victory without suffering a single loss. A requirement in their endless battle with a powerful god: Erebus the Deathless, Master of the Depths, the Dark One. Without that blessing, the Astra automatically obtain a curse. Five hundred years of utter defeat.—Page 1

  * * *

  The next bestowing has come, each of the nine Astra charged with the completion of an impossible task.

  Currently, the score stands at Astra—1, Erebus—0.

  Halo Phaninon, second-in-command, First and Last of the Order, the Machine, the Ringed One—Immortal of Immortals—is the newest challenger.

  He must perform the twelve labors of Hercules...in a day.

  For the emotionless assassin, failure is not an option. If he must raze a world and its occupants to achieve victory, so be it. And if he must destroy the female who can bring his dead heart back to life—his fated mate? What then?

  Let’s find out.—Page 10,519

  1

  A faraway realm

  Long ago

  “Emotions are our greatest enemy.” With an unhurried stride, the headmaster paced before his charges. Students of the Order. The train of his voluminous black robe dragged behind him.

  The most notable acolyte—Four—stood shoulder to shoulder with nine others in a perfectly straight line. Each boy wore a colorless tunic and loose pants; each kept his eyes focused ahead, chin up, hands locked behind his back and bare feet pressed together. None dared to take more than eight inhalations per minute. The allotted amount.

  Though a mere twelve years in age, Four already towered over the others. As the son of an eight-foot-tall war god, he might grow bigger than even the headmaster. If that happened...

  Headmaster dies screaming.

  The stern, merciless male possessed crimson skin and obsidian eyes without any whites; the instructors were exact copies of him. Their only differences came from the symbols etched into their faces. Symbols that glowed when they contemplated any kind of punishment.

  Headmaster never ceased glowing. “Say it,” he commanded now.

  “Emotions are our greatest enemy,” the boys echoed in unison, monotone.

  Four meant those words with every fiber of his being. What he wouldn’t give to rid himself of any softness. To no longer suffer the torment of grief and loss. Perhaps then he might finally forget his tenth birthday. The day invaders murdered his mother and carted him to the Order.

  Here, orphaned children of “myth and legend” learned to assassinate kings and gods. The best executioners received rewards. Those who floundered were often used during target practice.

  “Today, you will prove you mean what you say.” Headmaster continued his unhurried back-and-forth stride, drawing out the suspense. Testing his students, always testing. In the empty white room, his footfalls proved silent. “Shall I tell you how?”

  “If you wish, Headmaster,” the boys responded, again in unison.

  Four’s stomach churned, bile singeing his chest. He’d felt sick all morning. Even before he was summoned from his quarters—a small cubicle containing only a bed, nightstand, and handful of books he’d received for exemplary behavior. A sparse prison he’d come to appreciate. The less you owned, the less others could use against you. But not by word or deed did he reveal his physical discomfort. He knew better.

  What would Headmaster force the student
s to endure today? Or worse, to do?

  His skin glowed brighter as he passed Four. Five, the boy to his right, released an almost imperceptible whimper.

  In a blink, the headmaster returned to the lad.

  Four didn’t move. He willed his heart to maintain a slow, steady beat, lest a glaze of sweat dampen his skin, giving him away.

  Headmaster purred, “Are you afraid, Five?”

  Each student was known only by a number. A reminder of a terrible truth: we are easily replaced.

  “No, sir,” Five said, but a slight tremor proved him a liar. “I fear nothing.”

  “I’m not certain I believe you.” Headmaster lifted an arm and snapped his fingers. “But there’s a way to learn the truth.”

  Instructors observed the proceedings from the back wall, lined up just like the students. A lone male eased into motion, closing the distance to stand beside his superior.

  Dread gave the sterile air a sharp bite.

  “Whip him,” Headmaster ordered. “He’s to receive twenty lashes. If he makes a noise, cut out his tongue. If he sheds a tear, blind him.”

  No one in the room revealed an outward reaction as the instructor padded behind Five. But inside, Four waged a fierce war. He liked the boy and protected him whenever possible. Of the ten students in their group, Five was the kindest. Unlike the others, he shared his rewards, no matter what they happened to be. Food. Soft blankets. Special weapons. But Five was also the weakest among them, and he was about to suffer untold agonies. Could he maintain his silence until the end of the whipping? Could anyone?

  As the instructor unhooked a barbed rope from the belt of his robe, Four fought the urge to safeguard his friend. He knew better. He’d made this mistake once before, with another student. The moment he had intervened, he’d made everything worse. At least Five wasn’t being given an animal to raise and later kill.

  The first strike landed with a whoosh. Relief sparked as silence stretched. The second and third strikes fell. Five did well, his face remaining a blank mask.

  Headmaster leaned down, putting himself at eye level with his victim. “With every lash, you are being rid of your secret shame. Thank me for this opportunity.”

  “Thank you, Headmaster.”

  Whoosh. Crack.

  Whoosh. Crack.

  After the seventh strike, Headmaster slowly slid his attention to Four. He canted his head, staring hard. The symbols in his skin glowed brighter and brighter.

  Four revealed nothing.

  “Tell me what you think of Five’s situation,” the evil male cajoled.

  “I cannot.” The calmness—the coldness—of Four’s tone chilled even him. “I think nothing of his situation.”

  “Is that so?”

  Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack.

  Calm. Steady. Breathe in, out. “That is so.”

  After searching Four’s face, Headmaster withdrew a dagger from a hidden pocket of his robe and offered the hilt. “Kill him.”

  Four blinked twice. “Sir?”

  “You will kill Five, or I will kill you. The decision is yours. You have one minute to decide.”

  As Four held the male’s gaze, he knew two things with absolute certainty. If he hesitated to do this, he would die today. If he revealed a single emotion, he would want to die.

  With iron resolve, he accepted the weapon, his grip steady. He stepped backward and to the right, moving between the instructor with the whip and Five. Staring at his back—at the blood wetting his tunic.

  I can do this. Four had delivered many deaths the past two years, his kill list more than double the length of anyone else’s. But then, he was born for this. And yet...

  He felt as if a part of him died each time he stole another’s life.

  Would he act anyway? Oh yes. Without hesitation.

  Four stepped forward. Mere inches separated his chest and the ravaged back of his newest target. He reached around and gripped the boy’s chin, angling his head to the side. With his free hand, he pressed the tip of a blade into the upper dip of Five’s sternum.

  A mewl of fear escaped his friend, and the churning in his stomach intensified.

  “Your time runs out,” Headmaster stated.

  Four blanked his mind, a grueling skill he’d worked hard to perfect. One by one, his thoughts faded to the background, his emotions dulling until he felt nothing. Only a cold, gnawing void. He calmed, and his breathing evened out. This? This was nothing. A single death among hundreds.

  As the boy opened his mouth to protest or plead, Four met Headmaster’s obsidian gaze—and plunged the dagger deep. He twisted his wrist at the end. Bone cracked.

  Five stiffened against him, choking sounds leaving him. In seconds—an endless eternity—he collapsed, crashing to the floor.

  Blood spurted from the wound, splattering the motionless body, the floor. Four...didn’t care. He survived, whatever the cost.

  One day, things would be different. Until then, Four could only bide his time...

  Warm liquid pooled around his feet, and his inner cold thawed fast. The sickness returned to his belly.

  “What is this I smell on you, hmm? Fear?” The headmaster swooped in and ran the tip of his nose across Four’s neck while inhaling. “No, not fear, but something.” He straightened and motioned to the instructor with the whip. “Give him twenty lashes.”

  Reveal nothing. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

  Already in position, the instructor struck without delay. Whoosh. Crack.

  Pain splintered through Four, shooting across each of his limbs.

  Whoosh. Crack. Whoosh. Crack.

  He held Headmaster’s gaze until the end—and smiled. “Thank you again, Headmaster.”

  Scowling, the male grazed two black claws across his cheek. “Whatever you’re feeling will boil over as soon as I turn up the heat.” Walking away, Headmaster spoke to the instructor. “Give him twenty more.”

  2

  Harpina, the harpy realm

  6:00 a.m.

  Day 1

  “Get your lazy butt out of bed. Operation Lady O Be Good commences in thirty.”

  The beloved but evil voice preceded the sudden ripping away of Ophelia Falconcrest’s trio of comforters, leaving her with only a sheet. Although she wore neck to toe flannel, frigid air enveloped her in a hurry, and she groaned. Even the most sedate temperatures affected harpymphs like Ophelia. Not that there were many harpy-nymphs in existence.

  As she roused slowly but surely, she became increasingly aware of a great and terrible hangover and groaned louder. Her head throbbed, her stomach roiled, and her mouth tasted like a broken garbage disposal. Never drinking again. Maybe. Probably.

  “Go away,” she muttered. “Let me die dramatically and in peace.”

  “The motto you stole from Survivor is outwit, outplay, and outlast. Unless you’ve decided to go with a new one. Give up and give in.” Vivian “Vivi” Eagleshield, her best friend and favorite tormentor, clapped her hands twice and commanded with an exaggerated Russian accent, “Up, up, Lady O! Today is big day for you. Meaning, yes, it’s big day for me. You know I take my big days seriously.”

  “You’re the best and the worst, and I love you, but I also kind of hate you.” Ophelia smacked her dry lips and whimpered. “If you have any affection for me, you’ll pretend today doesn’t exist.”

  “Up! Up!”

  “So cruel and heartless,” she whined. She cracked open lids as rough as sandpaper. Though her eyes burned, she did her best to focus. “Come back tomorrow. Friday at the latest.” Like most single harpies, she enjoyed the luxury of sleeping on a bed only when she was safe in her home world—and she never parted with her luxuries easily. “Also, stop calling me by that ridiculous nickname.”

  Although, it certainly beat her epithet. Ophelia the Flunk Out. A title she’d earned eight years ago, at the age of eighteen. The day she’d gifted her virginity to her boyfriend, ending her fight to become harpy top dog: the General.

  Once upon a time, virginity had been a requirement for any General hopeful, and even the General herself. The fact that Ophelia had willingly parted with hers for a cute smile and a false promise of eternal love was one of her greatest regrets. Especially since she was the only sister of Nissa the Great, a previous General known for her uncompromised, unwavering standard of excellence.