The Darkest Lie lotu-7 Read online

  That chilly mist smelled of...ambrosia, thick, flowery. Addicting.

  "You really should think before you speak. You haven't been fed or watered." Like the animal she was. "You're too weak to take me."

  When she stilled completely, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. He locked her legs down with his own, and his middle fell more deeply into hers, her body offering him a cradle.

  She was soft, chilled, almost like champagne on ice. And the scent of that ambrosia... He felt his cock thickening, elongating, and growled, suddenly pissed off beyond measure. "See? Easy," he told her.

  She looked at him through the thick shield of her lashes, those gray eyes steady, emotionless. "Round one is yours. That hardly matters."

  "Says the loser."

  His demon purred with joy. That joy sparked pleasure, and that pleasure washed through him. Ah. That was why he was aroused, he realized; it had nothing to do with the woman. Thank the gods. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he lusted for a godsdamn Hunter.

  "What now?" she asked in that calm, dead voice.

  "Now," he replied. "We send a piece of you to your boyfriend, then send the rest of you to my friends."

  BY THE TIME they reached Lucifer's palace, Amun was useless and he feared he'd weakened his companions. There'd been other battles with demons, yet Aeron and William had had to fight on their own while protecting him. Now they were bloody and bruised and forced to drag him along.

  His friends would've been better off leaving him behind.

  The new voice in his head...gods, it was worse than any other he'd ever welcomed. So many urges...kill, maim, destroy. Reminded him of his first years with Secrets. So many dark deeds done...so many memories infused with his own.

  One of these new memories filled his mind even then. Three human souls were bared and chained before him, each trembling, crying, begging for mercy. He didn't have mercy, however. He was too eager for this. His claws sharpened to deadly points and he slowly raked each tip over the two males, sinking deep, cutting skin and hitting bone, letting the female see what would soon be done to her, increasing her fear. Both men screamed, for his claws were tipped with acid.

  That acid burned through the human souls, rotting everything it touched.

  Soon their skin turned to char, and that char spread. That's when he flipped them over, one at a time, that sweet scent of rot in his nose, and raped them. Their screaming increased, their thrashing increased, and he laughed. Laughed with true glee. Fun, this was always so much fun.

  The woman watched every thrust, helpless, afraid, knowing she was next.

  Soon, he promised her. Finally, he emptied into the second male and turned to the female, already hard again. He was always hard. Always ready. The more unwilling the victim, the better.

  She tried to crawl away from him, but the chain around her neck stopped her. He laughed. Can't run from me, little maggot.

  No, Amun screamed in his mind. That's not me. That's not me!

  He leaned over and vomited, entire body spasming as bile blistered a path through his throat.

  Strong hands patted his back, offering comfort. "That's it. Let it out," Aeron said.

  Once he'd voided his stomach completely, he straightened. Or tried to. His knees finally gave out and not even his friends could hold him up. He was too heavy. A dead weight, boneless.

  They managed to drag him to a gnarled tree and prop him against the jagged trunk. Trees in hell, he thought dazedly. Go figure.

  "What can I do?" Aeron asked, crouching in front of him.

  Nothing. Groaning, Amun forced his eyelids to remain open. The new voice continued to scream, to make itself known, and the pain in his head increased. But he'd rather feel that pain than see those terrible images.

  He scanned his surroundings, searching for a distraction. The forest was composed of ash and withered foliage. There was no green, no colorful flowers. Only an endless sea of black. Souls had been tormented here.

  He had tormented souls here.

  Oh, gods.

  "Take a moment to rebuild your strength," William said, motioning to the looming hill where Lucifer's palace rested. "We're almost there."

  Amun followed the direction of his friend's gaze. Black brick rose from that monochrome sea, two crumbling towers connected in the center to form a giant skull. There was a staircase enclosed by pikes—pikes that held severed human heads—leading to the yawning mouth of that skull, where sharp, yellow teeth hung like a chandelier. He would never make it.

  Just leave me here, he tried to sign.

  He didn't think he'd succeeded, but William understood him nonetheless. "You have to go with us. If it becomes necessary, and I pray that it won't, only you can discover where Lucifer has hidden the girl."

  And how much worse would Lucifer's memories be than this demon's? How much more could Amun take?

  "You've been here before," Aeron said to the warrior. "Anya said Lucifer is even afraid of you. Why is that?"

  "Anya misspoke." William had once again carefully blanked his mind, preventing Amun from reading the truth.

  "I don't think so. Knowledge is power, and we need all the power we can get. Look at us." Aeron waved a hand down his bleeding body.

  He was at the razor-edge of his patience, ready to erupt at the slightest offense.

  "The reason doesn't matter," William snapped. He, too, was gearing for a battle. "He'll fight me, just the same as he'll fight you."

  Arguing wasn't helping their cause. Amun held out a shaky hand to be helped up. His knees nearly collapsed again, but two strong arms banded around him, his anchors in the storm.

  Once more, the three of them trudged forward. By the time they reached the top of the hill, they were panting, cursing. There were no demon guards posted at the entrance to the staircase, but then, Lucifer didn't want to keep them out. The prince of darkness was inside, and he was waiting.

  Up the stairs they climbed, dust pluming at their feet. The door was open. After only the briefest of pauses, they stepped into a wide foyer, where piles of bones rested in each corner. The floor was stained red with blood and sticky with things he didn't want to contemplate.

  Amun pulled from his friends' clasps, determined to stand on his own. He wouldn't hinder them any more than he already had. He was a warrior, damn it. He could do this.

  "Be ready," Aeron whispered, blades already in hand.

  "Been ready," William replied, gripping his own blades more tightly.

  They'd already run out of bullets and had had to dispose of their guns.

  Together, they stalked forward, straight ahead, Amun continually tripping over his own feet. But he did walk, and at the moment, that was all that mattered. Finally they reached a room, scalding orange-gold flames licking each of the walls and fanning heat in every direction.

  His demon sighed. And, if he wasn't mistaken, uttered the word home. Sickness reclaimed his stomach. Not home, he thought. Never home.

  Focus. There, in the center of the room, was a dais built from brimstone and atop that brimstone was a throne of twisted, jagged metal and horns.

  The prince of darkness reclined in it, calm, unfazed by his expected visitors.

  "At last," Lucifer said, sipping from a bejeweled goblet. He was well built, with black hair and orange-gold eyes. He would have had a handsome face, one females probably would have melted over, if not for the deadness of those eyes. They gave him away, revealed his evil for all to see. "You certainly took your time."

  "Where's Legion?" Aeron demanded.

  "What? No pleasantries? No 'how are you doing, dearest master'?"

  "Certainly," William said evenly. "I'm doing well, thank you, reviled slave."

  Lucifer popped his jaw before nodding in greeting. "William. I was surprised to hear you had returned."

  "Just tell the man what he wants to know, and we'll leave. Your blood won't have to be spilled. I know, I know. You're welcome."

  Amun concentrated all of
his energy on the prince, linking with his mind, staying tuned to his thoughts. At first, there was nothing. Only silence. But Amun continued to push, to dig deeper, and must have finally penetrated some sort of barrier. All at once, an intense wave of hatred hit him. Hatred and fear, as Anya had predicted.

  Mine, mine, mine. You will not take what's mine.

  "I'm sorry my minions treated you so shabbily," Lucifer said. His tone was just as easy as it had been from the first, as if he wasn't chanting in his head. "I will, of course, punish them. Though perhaps I'll be more merciful than you used to be."

  A vein popped from William's temple.

  He was still closed off, and Amun didn't have the strength to mentally reach him. Besides, that might have severed the link to the prince.

  Lucifer's head canted to the side, and he grinned, his attention shifting to Aeron. "There's something different about you, Wrath." Thoughtful, he tapped his chin. "No, no. I can't call you that, can I? You are Wrath no longer. You are demon-free. Would you like to change that?"

  "Either tell us where the girl is or fight us. You're boring me, and I have things to do," William said.

  Lucifer's attention returned to him, eyes narrowing. "Oh, yes. I know exactly what those things include. Seducing the lovely Gilly. Your desire for her grows daily, doesn't it? Brother. And really, I'm surprised you didn't stop and visit your Horsemen. They miss you so."

  Brother? Horsemen? The four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

  Aeron stiffened, shooting William a shocked and angered glance.

  Lucifer laughed inside his head, utterly pleased with himself.

  He's trying to divide you, Amun signed, unsure Lucifer had meant what he'd said. Not about Gilly, and not about the Horsemen, Amun knew both were true, but about the familial connection. Unfortunately, neither warrior noticed him.

  "He's lying, of course," William said smoothly. Or tried to. His voice trembled just a bit. "I've never touched Gilly, and I never will. I'm not into jailbait. And the horsey comment doesn't deserve a response."

  One dark brow arched in smug amusement. "Whatever you say. Now, let's begin with the night's entertainment and rid you of your boredom. Shall we?" He clapped his hands, the sound echoing through the surrounding blaze.

  To the left, two demon High Lords entered the room. If their grins were any indication, they'd been waiting eagerly for their summons. Between them was Legion, shoulders hunched, pale hair in bloody tangles around her head. She'd been stripped and chained, and there were welts along her thighs where she'd been whipped.

  Knowing he couldn't afford the distraction, Amun blocked her thoughts. But not before he caught a glimpse of them. Oh, the terrible things that had been done to her...so much worse than what the minion of Pain had shown him, for that creature had only witnessed portions of her torture.

  She might never recover.

  She was as cut and bruised as he was, and there was a desolation in her eyes that had never been there before. But when she caught sight of Aeron, she began to struggle, to scream, worried for him, hopeful for herself. "Aeron! Aeron!"

  The demons held tightly, and Aeron tried to stalk forward, but William gripped his arm and held him in place.

  "That's what he wants."

  Lucifer was watching Aeron, eating up his reaction, loving the paleness of his skin, the grinding of his teeth. "Nothing to say, warrior?"

  Aeron nodded. "You will die for this."

  "That's it?"

  Another stiff nod, as if he didn't trust himself to speak again.

  Amun felt the surge of disappointment that filled the prince. He'd wanted Aeron to rant and rave. But, no matter, Lucifer thought, and Amun almost pulled from the being's mind. He retained the connection, sick to his stomach, churning with dread. Lucifer wasn't going to be deterred. What he had planned was sure to drive Aeron to the brink of madness. Aeron, stupid Aeron, who had ruined his plans to possess Legion and destroy the Lords.

  "Then let's get started with the festivities," Lucifer said smoothly. "Shall we?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SCARLET WAS experiencing the five stages of grief. All at the same time. Denial—Gideon hadn't been writhing in pain when she left him. Anger—her bitch of a mother had ignored her summons, over and over again, so she hadn't made it back to the heavens to begin tracking Mnemosyne. Bargaining— Let Gideon finally win his war, she'd prayed to no one in particular, and I'll forget about my revenge against my aunt. He'd be safe and Scarlet wouldn't be a liability. Depression—she would never see the beautiful warrior again, she just knew it. Acceptance—she'd done the right thing, leaving him. He would be better off.

  Tears burned her eyes, but she hastily wiped them away. Only a day had passed, but she missed him terribly. And like an addict in need of a fix, she was still in Budapest, close to him. Close enough to climb the iron fence that surrounded his fortress and saunter up to the front door, knock, grab him when he opened said door and kiss him.

  Only reason she'd resisted was because she'd barely gathered the strength to walk away the first time. No way could she do so a second time.

  Idiot. Frustration and desperation joined her other emotions. She would have tried to summon someone besides her mother for a ticket into Titania, but none of the gods, Greeks or Titans, liked her. Or if they did, she didn't remember. Fucking Mnemosyne.

  Return to Gideon, Nightmares pleaded. I'll be good, I swear.

  Her demon had experienced the five stages of grief as well, but kept returning to bargaining. You've always fancied him. Why? I don't understand. You fancy no one.

  He...belongs to me.

  She wished. I'm no good for him. But she wanted to be. Gods, did she want to be.

  He might not be her husband, she might not have any history with him, but she had come to...like him this past week. And he had come to like her. She knew he had. He'd tried to talk her into staying. He'd told her that he wanted more from her than a single bedding. And oh, gods, hearing those words had nearly crushed her resolve to leave.

  But in the end, she'd known leaving was her best and only option. She'd also known she'd had to close the door on them completely. Otherwise he might have come after her. Until her mother and aunt were dead, they had to remain apart. As long as Rhea lived, Gideon was vulnerable. As long as Mnemosyne lived, Scarlet was vulnerable. Or rather, her mind was.

  And if her mind was vulnerable, that meant Gideon was in danger. She could be convinced to hurt him, kill him, or even be persuaded that he was determined to hurt or kill her. She would attack him, and he didn't deserve that.

  He was a good man. A strong and gorgeous good man, and she'd caused enough turmoil in his life. But if, after her mother and aunt were dead, he still wanted to try to make a relationship work, she would be willing, she decided. However, she doubted he would want to try. There'd been frustration, desperation, anger and sadness in his eyes as she'd abandoned him. And pain. So much pain.

  She'd cried as she'd exited the fortress. Cried harder as she'd slunk into this underground crypt. The moment she'd reached the bottom, she'd closed her eyes and entered dreamland. Still crying.

  She'd been tempted to find Gideon. In fact, all of her strength had been needed to resist. Only thing that had saved her from doing so was, ironically enough, her aunt. Scarlet had forced herself to visit the woman and wait outside the doorway to her consciousness.

  Though she'd waited and waited, the bitch had never fallen asleep, and by the end, Nightmares had been a writhing cauldron of hunger. Scarlet had then given the demon free rein, and a tormenting spree had quickly ensued, shaping the dark dreams of thousands. Including Rhea's.

  That, Scarlet had enjoyed, taking special care to present her mother with her greatest fear: losing to her husband.

  Now, sleep was upon Scarlet again, and she was again waiting outside her aunt's doorway. If she couldn't reach Mnemosyne this time, she was going to draw Mnemosyne to her. And have a little fun in the process. That's why she had removed the butt
erfly necklace Gideon had given her. So that she could be found. Soon...

  She had to wait several hours, but this time Mnemosyne's door creaked open...only to snap shut so quickly she couldn't sneak inside. Well, well. Her aunt was fighting slumber. Soon, though, the goddess of Memory would lose. They always did.

  All the while Nightmares's hunger grew more intense, just like before.

  Just a little longer, she told her companion.

  The fiend whimpered inside her mind, and the shadows and screams that had been a part of her for thousands of years, so much so she hardly noticed them until Gideon aroused her to madness, intensified, too. Seeking release. Seeking a target.

  I promise, she added. If she had to allow another tormenting spree, she would.

  Finally, though, the wait paid off.

  Mnemosyne drifted, her doorway opening halfway and allowing Scarlet to dart inside before it could close again. Which it was in the process of doing. She latched onto the sweet, shining dream even then trying to form and tugged, dragging her aunt deeper and deeper into that state of bliss. Luring her...

  The dream continued, her aunt now unable to wake.

  Mnemosyne saw herself on the heavenly throne, queen to gods and mortals alike. She issued orders that were instantly obeyed, and poems were composed about her beauty. Though she was mistress to Cronus in reality, Cronus wasn't the man she truly desired. That honor belonged to the Titan god of Strength, Atlas. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes a darker shade of blue than Gideon's, and he sat at her right-hand side, worshipping her.

  So tranquil the scene was, so hopeful.

  Scarlet wanted to scream. Her aunt didn't deserve such accolades, even in her dreams. Not after everything she'd done. Not after the pain she had caused.

  Scowling, Scarlet held out her hands and began wiping away the background. Atlas was the first to go, then the golden throne, then the palace. Thorns and fire sprouted in their place. She placed Mnemosyne in the center of those scorching flames, watching as they licked her aunt's body, burning away her skin, her beauty.