Lethal Rider

Page 45

Hades appeared at Reaver’s side. “Getting in isn’t the problem, angel. It’s getting out that’ll be the trick.”
“Why are you keeping Reseph in there?”
“Maximum pain. Azagoth’s orders. You’ll understand when you see him. He’s not a soul like those you see around you. He can’t be reborn. He’s as he always was. Minus the sanity.”
“So good news tempered by bad news.”
“Isn’t that the way it always is?”
“Yes, Fallen, it is.” Reaver stepped inside the cave, and was instantly enveloped in the fetid scent of rot. He picked his way around half-eaten corpses … that weren’t really dead. In Sheoul-gra, nothing died. Beings suffered until—and if—they were reborn in another body. Clearly, the creatures in here couldn’t get out and were being slowly digested.
He kept walking, the moans of the victims rising up from the squishy, gore-soaked ground. Ahead, screams pierced the air, and the hairs on the back of Reaver’s neck prickled. Kicking himself into a jog, he no longer tried to avoid the writhing bodies beneath him. His boots crunched on their ribs, limbs, skulls.
Ahead, Reseph was in trouble.
When he finally saw the Horseman, he realized that trouble was not the word he should have used.
Reseph was crouched on the ground in a pool of what was probably his own blood, holding his head and screaming. One eye was gone, and it became clear that Reseph himself had clawed it out. Another scream burst from the Horseman’s mouth, and he threw himself backward into a rock wall so hard that blood sprayed and Reaver heard bones break.
“Blood…so much blood…claws, paws, heads… fucked…I f**ked them…tears, screams, oh, fuck… the pain…” Reseph’s babbling was punctuated by more screams, more throws against the wall, and more clawing of his own body.
“Reseph.” Reaver’s voice was barely a whisper, and choked with emotion. He’d hated Pestilence, had wondered how he’d feel to see Reseph again, and now he knew. This…hurt. “Reseph.”
Panting, Reseph turned his eye on Reaver. Confusion flashed in the bloodshot depths, and then horror. Reseph wheeled backward in a scramble, skittering along the wall to get away.
“No,” he rasped. “No. Snapping bones and torn guts …”
Reaver lunged, taking the Horseman by the shoulders and forcing him to still. “Hey. Stop. It’s me, Reaver.”
“No… no. I—” Reseph jerked backward, trying to get away, but Reaver gripped harder. “I hurt you. I hurt… so many.”
“It wasn’t you, Reseph. It was Pestilence.”
Reseph grabbed his head and threw himself in spastic lurches toward the wall. “Make it stop! Make it stop!”
The things the Horseman must be seeing, the memories he must be reliving… Reaver could only imagine. It had been bad enough to see what Pestilence had done, but to know you’d been the one to do it must be beyond anything a decent person could handle. And Reseph had been decent. A partying playboy with questionable morals, but he hadn’t been cruel. The things he’d done as Pestilence had gone well beyond cruel and into downright twisted, sick, and evil on a scale never before seen.
Reaver engulfed Reseph in his arms, using his entire body to ease the Horseman’s struggles. It was like trying to hug a rodeo bull.
“Destroy me,” Reseph moaned. “End me.”
Reaver’s heart cracked wide open. “I can’t.” Reaver couldn’t heal him, couldn’t lessen any of the pain. But there was something he could do.
Reaver tugged Reseph to his feet and slammed his palm into his forehead. “Good-bye,” he whispered. “Be happy.”
In a flash of silver light, Reseph was gone. May the human realm welcome him like a newborn.
It had taken every ounce of Reaver’s power to do what he’d just done, and now, drained, he sank to his knees, head bowed, his breath sawing painfully in and out of his lungs. Azagoth had allowed Reaver to keep his power when he entered Sheoul-gra, but now Reaver was empty, and there was no way to refuel down here. He was a sitting duck for any demon who came along.
Whatever happened to him, it would likely be nothing compared to what he was in for when his huge violation of Watcher rules was discovered. Although really, there were a lot of loopholes in the rules regarding a Horseman who had been sent to Sheoul-gra.
“What in blazing hells have you done?” Hades’s voice rumbled through the cavern. Didn’t that just figure. “Where’s Reseph?”
“I destroyed him,” Reaver croaked.
It was a lie, but the truth wasn’t an option. For anyone. And no one could know that Thanatos had used the wrong dagger to kill Pestilence.
Ironic, wasn’t it, that Thanatos had been searching for a way to repair Reseph’s Seal for so long, and in the end he’d found it without even knowing it.
Deliverance to repair, Wormwood to kill.
“Huh.” Hades squatted down in front of Reaver. “I don’t believe you. Either way, Azagoth is going to have you for dinner. He had a serious bug up his ass about seeing Reseph suffer.” He eyed Reaver like he was sizing him up for that dinner… which turned out to be the case. “Buffalo angel wings. Yum.” He jammed a finger into Reaver’s chest and knocked him over. “And it looks like someone’s all out of Heavenly juice. Do you know how much trouble you’re in right now?”
“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question,” Reaver said, as he pushed himself up to sit against the wall Reseph had used to tenderize himself.
“Little bit,” Hades agreed.
“I don’t suppose I can convince you to get me out of here.”
Hades ran his hand over his tight blue mohawk. “Out of the cave? It might be better to stay in here. If you go out, you’ll be at the mercy of hundreds of thousands of demons and evil humans who would love to take turns torturing the f**k out of you. Literally.” He paused. “On the other hand, if you stay in here, you’re in for an eternity of being slowly digested. Very painful.”
“Out of Sheoul-gra, you idiot,” Reaver gritted out.
“Idiot? That was a little uncalled for.”
Sighing, Reaver rocked his head back against the wall. He should have known Hades would toy with him. Azagoth had warned him as well. Of course, Azagoth had been full of warnings.
Empty yourself of power, and you’ll be helpless in Sheoul-gra and trapped there forever. Don’t expose your wings unless you want to start a riot. Too many will already know what you are. Don’t let anyone have a feather. A single angel feather could give a demon the power to reincarnate himself before his time. If you
become trapped in Sheoul-gra, I won’t save you. If someone comes to rescue you, you’d better hope I’m in a good mood, and they have something awesome to offer me, or they aren’t getting in.
Azagoth was such an ass. But Reaver supposed if he’d been relegated to this dreary realm, where his only pleasures came from what he could bargain for, he might be an ass, too.
“See, here’s the thing, angel.” Hades straddled Reaver’s outstretched legs and got right in his face. “I like the Horsemen. We’ve traded favors for centuries. Limos sends ice cream. You’re their Watcher, and they like you a lot. So I want to help you out.” He palmed Reaver’s cheek none-too-gently. “On the other hand, you’re an angel in my house. If I just waltz out of here and let you go, I’ll lose a lot of respect. You get that, right?”
Unfortunately, he did.
Hades shook his head, almost as if he truly regretted the situation. “I have to make your life hell, Reaver. I don’t fancy that, I swear. But you’ve given me no choice.” He clapped Reaver on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the word out to the Horsemen to rescue you.”
Reaver lunged forward, taking Hades by the throat. “Don’t. They can’t know I was here or that I came to see Reseph.” They believed their brother was dead, and for now, at least, it was for the best.
Smiling, Hades pushed into Reaver’s grip, and Reaver knew then that the guy enjoyed pain. “If I don’t contact them, it narrows your options for a rescuer, doesn’t it.”
Yeah, it did. He couldn’t get help from angels—even if one was willing to try to get past Azagoth and cross through Sheoul-gra, he didn’t want anyone to know why he’d come here. Reaver had taken Reseph’s memories and dropped him in the middle of nowhere in hopes that he’d find a new life.
The Horseman was still part of Biblical prophecy, and they needed him whole—and sane. Reaver was hoping that a few hundred years as a normal person would do a lot to heal the damage to his mind, lessening the pain when he remembered. Reaver didn’t want anyone messing with that delicate process. No one could know where Reseph was, and he didn’t trust his angel brethren not to find him, return his memories, and watch him suffer for all the damage he’d caused to mankind.
Hades’s smile faded, but the amused glint in his eyes didn’t. “Don’t worry, angel. We’ll have fun together. I don’t bite. Much.” He pushed off of Reaver. “I hope whatever you did with Reseph was worth it, because I’ve already sent word to someone who will be very interested to know you’re stuck here.”
Well, this couldn’t be good. “Who?” But then he realized he didn’t need to ask. “You blue-haired bastard. You sent for Harvester, didn’t you?”
“Aw, come on, Reaver, she’ll love to see you.”
Yeah, she’d love it all right. Because there was nothing the black-souled fallen angel loved more than torture.
Torturing Reaver.
Forty-one
Thanks to Eidolon’s amazing healing ability, one week after giving birth and being declared dead, the demon doctor gave Regan a clean bill of health… and the go-ahead to have sex.
Which was great, except Thanatos didn’t seem interested. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been the very definition of attentive and protective and loving since the minute he’d brought her back to the keep. But he’d also been evasive when she tried to discuss anything serious or intimate, or when she tried to get physical. He’d insisted that Eidolon declare her healthy, but she had a feeling his delaying tactic had been more about avoiding sex than anything else.
She hadn’t confronted him about it—hell, she’d been too busy with the baby to make a big deal of it, but today she was going to get some answers from him.
After they got rid of the friends and family, who had come over for a belated baby shower for Logan Thanatos, named after her father and, obviously, Than.
Regan finished dressing in jeans and a sweater, then checked on Logan, who was sleeping peacefully next to the bed in the cradle Than had made. She lingered for a few extra minutes, fussing with his teeny camo pajamas that had been a gift from Kynan and Gem, making sure his little hands were covered with mittens, and double-checking the monitor. She’d taken to motherhood more easily than she’d expected—the instinct was there, if not the knowledge, and she loved the little guy in a way she’d never thought possible.
Smiling down at him, she rubbed her neck where Thanatos had bitten her in his failed bid to turn her. He might not have turned her, but his bite had killed her, which ultimately allowed her to come back. She’d never have believed that she’d be thankful to have fangs punched into her vein, but she’d repeat it in a heartbeat.
Not that any kind of biting would happen if Than wouldn’t even have sex with her.
A dull ache squeezed her chest, and then it was gone before she had a chance to know what Thanatos had been thinking about. That was one of the side-effects of his deal with Azagoth—his painful emotions would forever filter through her instead of through the tattoos he’d been getting for so long. At first, his memories from the tattoos Azagoth had taken had blasted through her, reducing her to tears she hid from Thanatos. But now they were gone, and she would have to wait for the next one, the next scene of death he’d be drawn to. It would hurt them both emotionally, but she and Thanatos would work through it together.
Taking on his emotional agony occasionally was a very small price to pay for a life with him and their son.
Bracing herself for the noise of a party, she joined the crowd in the great room. The trestle table was covered in food, and a barrel full of ice had been set out to chill bottles of beer and wine. From the looks of things, everyone had been indulging. A lot.
Wraith sauntered over to her, his blonde vampire mate, Serena, on his arm. “Congratulations, Aegi. If you need any tips on raising a kid, I’m there for you.”
“That’s sweet of you.” Serena patted his hand in that universal, yes-dear-I’ll-humor-you way. “But I’m sure Thanatos can mess up a kid as well as you can.”
“I doubt that.” Wraith planted a kiss on Serena’s neck, breaking it off when Thanatos punched him in the shoulder.
“Glad you could make it.” Than slung his arm around Regan’s shoulder as he scanned the crowd. “Glad all your brothers and sister could come.”
“You kidding?” Wraith said. “You Horsepeople always throw great parties. Plus, there’s usually a fight.”
“Not this time, man. Not this time.”
Wraith looked disappointed, but he perked up when Sin, her black hair pulled back into a wild ponytail, came over and handed Serena and him two glasses of Scotch.
“That,” Sin said with a wink, “is the best way to shut him up.” She sobered, turning to Than as Wraith and Serena joined another group of guests. “I wanted to thank you. You and your siblings.”