Lords of the Underworld Bundle Page 27

  Dread, fear and uncertainty fought for dominance inside of her. She didn’t know if Torin had been telling the truth and she didn’t care. She had to get to Maddox. Another of his shouts pierced the air and seemed to cut through plaster and rock, wrapping around her.

  Tears stung her eyes. She rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob with a shaky hand. It didn’t budge. Damn it! She’d be quiet, but she was not staying in this room.

  Ashlyn wheeled around and again surveyed the area, trying to see it through a thief’s eyes. Dust covered everything, as if the room had been forgotten for years. No knickknacks, either. Nothing she could use to smash the lock.

  She moved to the window and swept the drapes aside, instantly gaining a view of the mountain, white and majestic. A balcony led—she looked, gasped. Down, down, down. Only if you fall. Thankfully the double glass windows opened easily. Ignoring the sudden blast of frigid air, she peeked right, then left. A few feet over was another balcony.

  Maddox bellowed, loud and long.

  Palms sweating, she raced to the bed, an idea forming in her mind. A dangerous idea. A stupid idea. “The only idea,” she muttered, sweeping up the covers and sheets with a flick of her wrist.

  Dust filled her nose and mouth and she coughed but didn’t slow. She tied one end of the sheet to one end of the comforter. “It’s been done in movies. You’ll be okay.” Maybe. Actors had nets—and stunt doubles. She had neither.

  Another bellow.

  Her stomach churned as she returned to the windows. The oversized T-shirt and sweatpants she wore did little to protect her against the elements, but she stepped onto the balcony without any hesitation and hissed in a breath. The stone was ice-cold against her bare feet and the wind was bitter.

  Fingers shaking, breath misting, she tied an end of the makeshift rope to the balcony railing. Double knotted. Triple knotted. Gave a jerk.

  It held.

  But would it hold her weight? After puking her guts out earlier, she was probably a few pounds lighter, so that was one point in her favor.

  Shaking more violently now, she climbed over the metal bars. Rust left a dirty trail on her clothing. She kept her gaze level. “You have nothing to worry about. There’s not a ten-million-foot drop.”

  She descended the blanket. A creak. A rattle. Her heart almost stopped. “Maddox needs you. He might even care about you. Or he might think you’re a liar and an evil killer, might not even like you and might have tried to seduce answers from you—but either way he doesn’t deserve this. You’re the only one in this place who thinks so, so you’re it. His only hope.”

  God. I sound like the princess from Star Wars.

  But she was desperate to fill the silence she’d so prized. Otherwise, she’d think about falling and death—or worse, failure. “You’re doing good. Keep it up.”

  She lost her voice when she found herself hanging freely. A lump formed in her throat. Please, Lord. Don’t let me fall. Don’t let my hands sweat any more than they already are.

  She leaned forward, rocking the sheet…an inch. Damn. She leaned backward. An inch. Forward, back. Forward, back. Soon she had a nice swing. But the sheet slipped a little—or maybe she did—and she screamed.

  Just a bit more. I can do it. Picking up speed, she continued to rock back and forth. Finally, she was close enough to the second balcony to reach out and grab—damn! She’d missed.

  On the next forward swing, she reached out again. Her fingers hit the rail but failed to catch. Back she flew, slipping another notch.

  Concentrate, Darrow. She reached out again and this time she was able to hook her fingers tightly, not letting go, even when the rope tried to jerk her backward. With a grunt, she threw all of her weight forward, grabbing on to the bar with her other hand and releasing the sheet. Then she made the mistake of looking down.

  The lower half of her body dangled over fifty feet of jagged mountain.

  She couldn’t help it; she yelped.

  For several heart-pounding moments, she kicked her legs up, trying to curl them around the bar as she’d done with her fingers. Slipping…slipping…Finally her knee latched.

  Muscles burned and strained as she hoisted herself up. It was cold outside, yeah, but she was sweating. Her legs rattled as she tried to pry open the window that led into the new room. It resisted. Several minutes of beating and kicking passed before she succeeded. She climbed inside, nearly collapsing with relief.

  The room was dark and dusty, just like the other had been, but she could hear Maddox moaning and fighting once again. Please don’t let me be too late. Closer now…so close…

  She tiptoed to the door and inched it open. No one was in the hallway. Suddenly Maddox’s voice went quiet. Too quiet. She covered her mouth with her hand to prevent a cry. There was muttering—

  “…shouldn’t have told him.”

  “He needed time to calm down. Now he has it.”

  “He might never calm down.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It was the right thing to do.” A pause. A sigh. “I’m eager to finish this and remove at least one burden from our lives. Let’s grab the girl and go.”

  Trembling, she pressed herself against the wall and surrounded herself with shadows. Footsteps echoed. A door creaked open, then closed. More footsteps, these moving away from her.

  Ashlyn sprang into motion. She raced into the hall, caught a glimpse of two men rounding a corner and opened the door to Maddox’s room.

  She almost vomited.

  He lay on the bed, the bed where he’d held her so tenderly only hours ago, blood pooling around him. His chest was bare and she could see six gaping wounds where a sword had pierced. She could see inside his body. Oh God. She covered her mouth with her hands.

  In a shocked trance, she found herself walking toward him. Not again, she thought. Not again! The brutality was astonishing.

  Why did those bastards keep doing this to him? He was a demon, they were demons, but that wasn’t reason enough. “There’s no reason good enough,” she sobbed. Cruel and heartless, that’s what they were.

  Slowly she reached out and smoothed her hand over Maddox’s brow. His eyes were closed; blood streaked his face, splattered in a random pattern. No, not random. Ashlyn thought perhaps she saw the shape of a butterfly, all angles and sharp curves.

  Blood even ran down his wrists and ankles where he’d pulled at his bonds.

  Another sob bubbled in her throat and overflowed. Her knees collapsed, and she was suddenly kneeling beside him. “Maddox,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m here. I won’t leave you.” She gazed about for a key to unchain him, but found nothing.

  Reaching out, she clasped his lifeless hand. He was immortal. He’d awakened from this once. He could do it again. Right?

  FLAMES LICKED AT HIM. Burning like acid. So hot. Melting him, destroying him bit by bit. The air was heavy, black and thick as his body disintegrated. So much pain.

  “Maddox.”

  He heard the voice, familiar, sweet, and he stopped writhing, heat suddenly forgotten. “Ashlyn?” He scanned the depths of the hell he’d returned to but saw only cave after cave of flame. Heard only whimpers and shouts. Had Ashlyn died? Had she been sent here to suffer, too?

  That could only mean Lucien and Reyes had killed her. “Bastards!” Maddox howled. They had killed her, and now he would have to kill them. With pleasure, the spirit growled.

  “I’m here,” she said. “I won’t leave you.” A sob this time.

  “Ashlyn,” he called. He’d bargain with the cruel new gods. He would get her out of here. Whatever was needed. He would agree to stay here forever, even. Anything to set her free.

  “I won’t let you go. I’ll be here when you awaken. If you awaken. Oh God.”

  His brow furrowed in confusion before melting away once again. Her voice wasn’t an echo inside of hell. It was an echo inside his mind. But that made no sense. That was not possible.

  “How could they have done this to you? How?”

/>   Was she…with his body? Yes, he realized a moment later. Yes, she was. He could almost feel her hand clutching his, her warm tears dripping onto his open chest. He could almost smell her sweet honey scent.

  As his charred flesh burned and reformed, burned and reformed, she whispered to him, comforting him. “Wake up again, Maddox. Wake up for me. You have a lot of explaining to do, and I won’t let you go until you tell me the truth.”

  He wanted to obey and fought to escape the deep, deep pit in which he found himself, doing all he could to project his spirit back into his body. He wanted to see her, to hold her, to protect her. But the fire enveloped him in a smoldering embrace, trapping him. He gritted his teeth, wrestling, struggling, battling again and again. He would battle all night, if he had to. He would battle until Lucien came for him.

  He would be with Ashlyn again.

  His connection to her was too strong, too deep, too in-grained, to be ignored or denied. In such a short amount of time, she’d somehow become the center of his universe. His only reason for living. It was as if she belonged to him. As if she’d been born just for him.

  Now that he’d found her, nothing would come between them.

  “I’ll stay here all night,” she said. “I’m not going to let you go.”

  He was smiling as the flames consumed him again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE TIME FOR WAR had arrived.

  Aeron was glad. He seethed with the need to battle, to slay. Maybe, if he maimed a few Hunters, he would stop imagining his blade slicing through Danika’s neck, followed quickly by her sister’s…her mother’s…and lastly, her grandmother’s.

  He hadn’t told the others, but the need to kill was more than an ignorable flicker inside him now. It was beginning to color his every thought and make him crazed. The gods had not exaggerated. The beast inside him was eager to follow the order he’d been given.

  Worse, the stirrings seemed to increase with every hour that passed.

  And they would only grow stronger, he knew. They would grow and grow and grow until at last he destroyed those four innocent women.

  He worked his jaw. Hopefully he could suppress the thirst for blood, if only for a little while. I’m a monster, as bad as the spirit inside me. If the warriors failed to think of a way to save those women, well, Aeron knew he would have to kiss the last remaining vestiges of himself goodbye. He would be a demon.

  Aren’t you already?

  “Think Maddox’s woman is out here?” Paris asked, interrupting his brooding thoughts.

  “Could be.” They hadn’t been able to find her and had soon given up their search, coming into the city anyway. He was furious that Bait might even now be on the loose.

  Had the Hunters already been warned of the Lords’ arrival?

  Lucien had flashed into the cemetery first, but hadn’t seen anything suspicious. Still, Torin had been sent in afterward to wait, watch and take surveillance pictures with a few of his toys. Sending him had been a last resort. He’d protested, but in the end had agreed to go. At least the cemetery’s inhabitants were already dead, rendering Disease harmless.

  Now Aeron and the others moved swiftly through the cobbled streets of Buda. Without Ashlyn, they had to draw the Hunters out another way. They had chosen to be the Bait themselves.

  Midnight might have come and gone, but the city was far from ready to sleep. People sat at lighted tables, the innocent playing chess, the more jaded selling a few hours of fun. Buildings towered on each side, a symphony of curves and points. A few cars meandered past.

  Humans jumped out of the warriors’ way, snatches of gossip and speculation drifting through the moonlight. The angels have come down from their mountain…think they’re after those men who were asking about them, the ones at Club Destiny…

  “Men were asking about us,” Aeron said, teeth clenched. Even as he spoke, a woman crossed the street to greet them, her expression glazed as she stared at Paris.

  “A kiss,” she beseeched him.

  “Always.” Paris smiled and lowered his head to grant her request.

  Aeron barked, “Later. Take us to this Club Destiny.” If Promiscuity started kissing, Promiscuity would not stop kissing until clothes were shed and passion-cries were ringing.

  “Next time,” Paris told the woman, regret in his tone, and moved on, leading the way to the club.

  “Promise?” she called. But she snapped out of her lust-haze when Lucien passed her, blanching at his scarred face.

  A few minutes later, the warriors stood just inside the club’s entrance, surveying the scene. A crowd of humans danced in a fast, gyrating rhythm, multicolored lights pulsing around them. Those who spotted them gasped. Most backed away—angels, indeed. A brave and foolish few stepped closer.

  Standing there, Aeron could sense…something. A slight hum of power, perhaps. He frowned.

  “See them?” Reyes asked, gaze scanning. His posture was tense. Pain seemed more on edge than ever tonight. His hands were swollen, as if he’d followed Maddox’s lead and ruined an entire room.

  “Not yet, but I know they’re here.” Aeron fingered the blade hidden at his side. Where are you? Who are you?

  “Hello, heaven. Look at those sweet little morsels,” Paris said, his voice husky with arousal.

  “Mind out of their pants,” Reyes snapped.

  Aeron wished that were his only worry. Needing sex. Human females regarded him with fear, like the blonde who’d nearly popped a vessel today at the thought of being touched by him. And he was happy about that. They should fear him. He wouldn’t mean to, but he’d chew them up and spit them out in a single bite.

  “Five minutes,” Paris said, the words thick with pleasure. “That’s all I need.”

  “Later.”

  “Now.”

  “What are you, a child? Your cock is not a toy, so stop playing with it for one damn night.”

  “Gods. It can’t be,” Lucien suddenly said, his stunned tone ending the squabble. He motioned to the back of the club with a grim tilt of his chin. “Look.”

  Every gaze followed his to a group who stood near the back of the club, watching them.

  Aeron hissed in a breath and palmed one of his blades. Seemed the day’s surprises weren’t over. “Sabin.” He had never thought to see Doubt again. The man he’d once considered a friend had held a knife at his throat, had cut and cut deep. “What’s he doing here? Why now—” His words jammed to a halt as the answer hit him. “He’s still warring with the Hunters. He probably brought them to our doorstep.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Lucien said, but none of them moved forward.

  Aeron knew why his own feet had turned to lead. That dark, fateful night was playing through his mind.

  “We have to kill them,” Sabin had screeched. “Look what they did to Baden.”

  “We have done enough of that,” Lucien had replied in that calm voice of his. “We have caused them and their loved ones far more pain than they have brought us.”

  Cold rage had washed over Sabin’s face. “Does Baden mean nothing to you, then?”

  “I loved him just as much as you did, but more destruction will not bring him back,” Aeron had spat, turning his back, unable to stand the pain in Sabin’s eyes. Pain that was mirrored inside him. “I cannot take much more, for my heart grows blacker every day. I need peace. Sanctuary.”

  “I would rather die than allow a single Hunter to live.”

  “We killed the man who removed his head. Let that be enough.”

  “Enough? I held Baden’s lifeless body in my arms, his blood seeping all the way to my soul, and you want me to walk away? You are worse than the Hunters.” Sabin had attacked then, the blade embedded before Aeron ever sensed it coming.

  A fair fight, he could have forgiven. An attack from behind? Hell, no.

  After Aeron had fought him off, he’d just wanted to leave. Leave Greece, the war, the hated memories. But Sabin and a few others still had wanted more blood.
>
  That was when the Lords had divided. Irrevocably.

  He studied them now, these warriors he knew but didn’t. They appeared the same, though their attire had changed with the times. Gideon had blue hair, an unholy gleam in his electric-blue eyes—a gleam that was more than feral, more than predatory. Reminded Aeron of Lucien the one and only time he’d exploded in a temper, nothing and no one able to restrain him.

  Cameo was still the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, but damn if he didn’t want to stab himself in the heart just from looking at her. Strider was still handsome, though the years had etched ruthlessness on the planes of his face. Amun had discarded his robes for a black shirt and jeans.

  Where was Kane? Had the Hunters gotten him, too?

  Sabin and the others began a slow, steady approach. He kept his eyes on them as he and the others finally moved forward, as well. The two groups met in the middle of the dance floor, humans quickly scrambling out of their way.

  “What are you doing here?” Lucien demanded. Aeron noted that he spoke in English, probably so that the dancers would not understand him.

  “I could ask you that, as well,” Sabin replied in the same language.

  “Here to stab someone else in the back, Doubt?” Aeron asked him.

  Sabin popped his jaw. “It’s been a couple thousand years, Wrath. Ever heard of a thing called forgiveness?”

  “That’s funny coming from you.”

  A muscle ticked below the warrior’s right eye. “We didn’t come here to fight you. We came to fight Hunters. They’re in town, in case you hadn’t heard.”

  Aeron snorted. “We heard. Did you lead them here?”

  “Hardly.” Sabin ran his tongue over his teeth. “They learned about you before we did.”

  “How?”

  Sabin shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “I highly doubt you’d travel all the way to Budapest to fight. You could have stayed in Greece for that,” Lucien said with the slightest hint of bite in his tone.

  “Fine. You want the truth?” Strider splayed his arms, showing he was weaponless. “We need your help.”

  “Hell, no.” Paris shook his head. “We don’t even need to hear how or why, ’cause the answer won’t change.”