The Darkest Whisper (19 page)

He scratched her behind the ears. “I'll return,” he told
Paris, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Thankfully everyone was in the entertainment room, waiting for the meeting to start. If it hadn't already. He made it to his chamber without bumping into anyone and hugged Legion tight before settling her on the ruffled lounge he'd had Maddox build for her.

“Stay here,” he said, stalking to his closet. In seconds, he was weighed down with knives. He wanted to take a gun, just in case, but didn't want the human, whoever he chose, having access to it while he was preoccupied with flying.

“But—but—Me just got here. Me misssed you.”

“I know, and I missed you, too. But the townspeople are already afraid of me. I think they'd riot at the sight of both of us.” It was true. They'd never regarded Aeron's heavily tattooed face with the same reverence they bestowed upon the other warriors. “I need to find a female for Paris and fly her back here.”

“But you can carry two. Me and her.”

“No. I'm sorry.”

“No!” She stomped her foot, red eyes bright. “No fe-malesss alone with you.”

He knew she wasn't jealous romantically, but jealous like a child was when its parent remarried. “We've talked about this, Legion. I don't like human females.” When he gave himself to a woman, it would be a strong immortal, one who was hard, resilient and not easily destroyed.

How Paris and the others could bed the humans, knowing they were doomed by disease, stupidity, carelessness or cruelty at the hands of another of their kind, he didn't know. They would die. They always did. Even Ashlyn and Danika, to whom the gods had promised immortality, had weaknesses.

“I won't be long,” he said. “I plan to grab the first female I find. Someone completely unattractive to me.”

She traced a claw over the emerald velvet. “Prom-issse?”

“Promise,” he assured her.

That mollified her somewhat, and she sighed. “Okay. Me ssstay. Me…” Her thin lips curved into a frown.

An instant later, Aeron felt a pair of invisible eyes boring into him. Hot, curious, insistent.

Legion trembled, scales paling, fear curtaining her features. “No.
Nooooo!
”

“Go,” he commanded, and she did without hesitation, disappearing with only a thought.

Slowly he spun, searching for any hint of the…angel? There was nothing, no shimmery outline, no heavenly scent. Everything was as it had always been. His jaw clenched. So badly he wanted to curse at the creature, demand it emerge and state its business with him. But he didn't. There wasn't time. Later, though…

He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, looking down at his tattooed chest. Battle scenes, faces. He never wanted to forget the things he'd done. The people he'd seen led to slaughter. Otherwise he feared he would become the very evil he'd always fought against. He would become his demon, Wrath.

No time for these grim thoughts
. With only a mental command, his wings exploded from the hidden slits in his back, black, gossamer, deceptively fragile in appearance but incredibly strong. In that moment, he thought he heard a feminine gasp. Then warm hands were stroking those wings, learning every curve and hollow. Just like that, his cock hardened, a traitor to his resolve.

Hell. No. Desire a demon assassin? Not in this lifetime. “Don't touch,” he snarled.

The phantom hands jerked away.

If only the creature would obey him in all things. “If you hurt my friends or think to steal from me, I will carve you up, piece by piece. It would be better for you to leave and never return.”

There was no response. That white-hot gaze remained.

Teeth grinding together, he strode to the double doors overlooking his balcony.

Outside, warm air enveloped him, fragrant with the scents of nature. Trees towered around the fortress, stretching to the sky. In the distance, he could see the red rooftops of the town shops and cathedrals. Those soft, hot hands never returned to him, and he was grateful. He was not disappointed, he assured himself.

Determined, he leapt from the balcony. Down, down he fell. He flapped his wings once, and rose. Again, and soared higher. He angled toward the left, turning to the north. That's when the front of the fortress came into view and he saw Sabin, jumping out of the SUV with a bleeding, unconscious Gwendolyn in his arms.

Aeron wanted to stop, to help, but instead flapped his wings faster, harder. Paris came first. Now and always, Paris would come first.

S
ABIN HAD MEANT
to keep at least one Hunter alive for questioning, perhaps a little torturing. Then they'd shot at Gwen, and that desire had vanished. The second bullet had been an accident, but rage had consumed him, more rage than he'd ever experienced before. He'd slaughtered them like cattle, one by one, their throats opening under the slick pressure of his blade. Hadn't seemed like enough, then or now.

On the way to the fortress he'd phoned Lucien, who had flashed Maddox and Strider to the scene for cleanup, then had gone back to the fortress to gather Gideon and Cameo to search for any other Hunters that might be lurking about. Sadly, there'd been no sign of more. That didn't mean they weren't there, only that they were well-hidden.

He wanted to slaughter another dozen or so.

Only a handful of times in the past two days had Gwen regained consciousness. Fuzzy as she'd been, he'd vacillated over and over again: take her to the hospital in town or keep her here? In the end, he always chose to keep her in his bedroom. She wasn't human. Doctors could do her more harm than good.

But
why
wasn't she recovering faster? She was immortal, a Harpy. Anya knew the race and swore they healed as swiftly as the Lords. But even though he'd
removed the bullets, the holes in Gwen were still gaping, still raw.

After fussing over her this morning, Danika and Ashlyn had suggested he place Gwen in the Cage of Compulsion and command her to heal. Finally hopeful, he'd done it. But she'd only gotten worse. That was not how the cage was supposed to work, and he'd realized that though they thought they'd known the artifact's abilities, they actually had much to learn.

Sabin had tried summoning Cronus, but evidently the god king was ignoring him. Damn gods. Only showing up when
they
wanted something. He now found himself praying for the arrival of her sisters. They would know what to do—if they didn't butcher everyone inside the fortress first. The number Gwen had dialed the other day was stored in his phone, so he'd called it, too, intending to solicit advice, tell the girls to hurry. But the woman who answered had nearly gone up in flames when she discovered it was not Gwen on the line. And when he was unable to produce Gwen, the threats to his manhood had started.

Not a good omen of things to come.

“Can I get you anything?”

The question came from the door and Sabin jerked in surprise. Normally, a spider couldn't sneak up on him. Lately, anyone and anything could. Damn Hunters. They'd been lurking in town, watching him, waiting for him to mess up so they could snatch Gwen. And he hadn't fucking known.

“Sabin?”

“Yes.” He lay on the bed, Gwen tucked into his side. She'd stopped moaning in pain, at least.
My charge, and I failed her
. Worse, he'd promised her that the Hunters would never hurt her again. Hadn't he? If he hadn't, he should have. Guilt ate at him.

Did you expect anything less?

Doubt had long since turned its evil on Sabin, not giving him a moment's rest.

“Sabin.”

Hands fisting, he regarded Kane, who stood in the entryway. Dark hair, hazel eyes. There was a smear of white on his left cheek. Probably from plaster. Ceilings loved to cave in on the keeper of Disaster.

“You good?”

“No.” He should be planning his next move against his enemy. He should be with his men, gearing up for battle. He should be on the streets, hunting. Instead, he could barely force himself to leave his bedroom. If his eyes weren't on Gwen, if he wasn't watching her chest rise and fall, his mind simply fried, unable to fend off Doubt with logic.

What the hell was wrong with him? She was just a girl. A girl he wanted to use. A girl who would probably die fighting his enemy—a girl he'd
asked
to fight his enemy. A girl he couldn't have. A girl he'd only known a short while.

Being with her now, guarding her, wasn't putting her above his mission, he assured himself. After he trained her, she'd be a killing machine. There'd be no stopping her.
That's
why he was here, unable to leave, desperate for her recovery.

“How's she doing?” a female voice suddenly asked.

Again, he was blinking as he refocused. Damn, but his mind wandered a lot lately. Ashlyn and Danika had returned—he'd lost count of the number of times they'd visited—and now stood beside Kane.

“Holding steady.” Why wasn't she healing, damn it? “How'd the meeting go?” Because of the attack, it had been put off until this morning.

Kane shrugged, and the action seemed to piss off the lamp in the far corner because the lightbulb sparked. Then exploded. The women yelped and jumped out of the way. Used to such things, Kane continued as if nothing had happened. “Everyone's in agreement. There's no way Baden can be alive. Each of us held his head in our hands before we burned it. Either someone's impersonating him or they're starting the rumor to distract us from our purpose.”

The latter made sense. How like the Hunters. Because they weren't as strong as the warriors, their best weapon was trickery.

Danika strolled to Gwen and smoothed the hair from the sleeping beauty's face. Ashlyn joined her and clutched Gwen's hand, probably willing her strength into that frail little body. Their concern touched him. They didn't know her, not really, yet they still cared. Because he cared.

“Galen knows that we know he's leading the Hunters,” he told Kane. “Why hasn't he attacked again?”

“He's planning, probably. Gathering his forces. Spreading lies about Baden to confuse us, definitely.”

“Well, I'm going to kill him.”

“Maybe sooner than you think. I saw him last night in my dreams,” Danika said without looking up. “He was with a woman. The scene was so vivid I painted it when I woke up this morning. Do you want to see?”

Poor Danika. She was faced with grisly visions nearly every night. Demons torturing souls, gods battling other gods, loved ones dying. Delicate human that she was, the horrors she witnessed had to scare her, yet she endured them with a smile because they helped her man's cause.

What would Gwen do if she had such visions? he found himself wondering. Would she tremble as she had
that day in the pyramid? Or would she attack, teeth bared, like the Harpy she'd been born to be?

“Sabin?” Kane asked. “Your distraction is screwing with our egos.”

“Sorry. Yes, please. I want to see it.”

Danika made to stand, but Kane stopped her. “Stay there. I'll get it.” He disappeared down the hall, only to return a few minutes later, holding a canvas that stretched the length of his arm. He held it up, light gleaming off the dark colors.

Looked to be some sort of cave, the jagged rocks splattered with scarlet and soot. A few bones were scattered across the twig- and dirt-laden ground. Human, most likely. And there, in the far corner, was Galen, feathered wings outstretched. His pale head faced the viewer, and he was holding a…Sabin had to squint to see. A piece of paper?

There was indeed a female beside him, though only a sliver of her profile could be seen. She was tall, thin, with black hair. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. She, too, was studying the sheet.

“I've never seen her before.”

“None of us have,” Kane said. “There's something oddly familiar about her, though, don't you think?”

He studied her more closely. None of her features were familiar, no. But the way she frowned…the crease at the corner of her eye…maybe.

“I wish I had gotten a better view of her,” Danika said.

“That you saw anything at all is a miracle,” Ashlyn assured her.

Kane nodded. “Torin's gonna scan her face into his computer, work some of his magic to form a complete composite and try to figure out who she is. If she's immortal, she probably won't be in any human databases, but it's worth a try.”

“Why are they in the portrait?” Sabin asked, pushing the female from his mind and concentrating on their surroundings.

“Not sure, but we're looking into that, too.” Kane rested the painting on the tops of his boots. “Finding Galen has become Priority One. If we can kill him, we think we can put an end to the Hunters once and for all. Without his guidance about all things immortal, they should crumble.”

Gwen shifted against him, knee rubbing his thigh.

He froze, not even daring to breathe. He wanted her to awaken, but he didn't want her in pain. But several minutes passed and she remained just as she was.

My guess is she'll die.

Fuck you.

You're the one to blame, not me.

That, he couldn't refute. “What about our search for the box?” he asked Kane. “What about the training facility or boarding school or whatever it is for the halfling children? And I wanted to go back to the Temple of the Unspoken Ones, search it again.” The temple was in Rome and had only recently risen from the sea—a process that had begun when the Titans overthrew the Greeks to seize control of the heavens. Because of Anya, he knew those temples were intended to be used as a place of worship, a means of returning the world to what it once was: a playground for the gods.

“Those are priorities two, three and four,” Kane said, “though knowing Torin, he's running several different searches on several different computers. A few more days, and we'll probably be back in action.”

Would Gwen be recovered by then? “Any news on the third artifact?” Sometimes there weren't enough hours in the day to do everything that needed doing. Fight Hunters,
find ancient relics of the gods, stay alive. Heal one tiny female.

“Not yet. Maddox and Gideon are taking Ashlyn out and she's going to listen.”

Hopefully the Hunters that had come for Gwen had been vocal about their plans. Like where they'd planned to take her. He'd blow the place up on principle alone.

“Keep me updated on any progress.”

Kane nodded again. “Consider it done.”

“Sabin.”

It was a rough, scratchy entreaty—and it had come from Gwen. His head swung in her direction. Her eyelids were flickering open as she tried to focus.

His heart sped up, his skin tightening, his blood heating.

“She's waking up,” Danika said excitedly.

“Maybe we should—” Kane pressed his lips together as the bottom half of the painting careened to the floor. Scowling, he gathered the second piece. “I'm so sorry, Danika.”

“No worries.” She jumped up, closed the distance between them and gently took the pieces from him. “It can be taped.”

Ashlyn moved beside them, rubbing her growing belly along the way. “Come on. Let's give these two some time alone.”

And then they were gone, the door closing behind him.

“Sabin?” A little stronger this time.

“I'm here.” He slid his fingers up and down Gwen's arm, offering what comfort he could. His relief was palpable. “How are you?”

“Sore. Weak.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and
gave herself a once-over. A black T-shirt covered her, and she sighed in relief. “How long have I been out?”

“A few days.”

She scrubbed a hand over her tired face, still too pale for his liking. “What? Really?”

Her surprise was genuine. “How long does it normally take for you to heal?”

“I don't know.” Weak as she was, she was unable to hold up her arm for any length of time. It flopped to her side. “I've never been injured. Damn it, I can't believe I fell asleep.”

Her claim baffled him. “That's not possible. The never-being-injured thing.” Everyone, even immortals, scraped their knees, banged their heads, broke their bones at some point in their lives.

“With sisters like mine, protecting me at every turn, it is.”

So her sisters had done a better job of ensuring her safety than he had. That rankled.

Did you expect something different?

I hate you today, you know that, right?
They had let her be captured, he reminded himself.
He
had saved her.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car,” he found himself growling.

Amber eyes landed on him, a little glazed with pain but mostly edged with anger. “You told me to stay in the car or help you. I chose to help you.” With every word, her voice became weaker. Her lashes were fluttering again, ready to close for another too-long slumber.

His anger drained. “Stay awake for me. Please.”

Her eyes opened at half-mast and her lips curled into a tired smile. “I like when you beg.”

Didn't bode well that he was suddenly eager to beg for a few kisses. “Anything you need to help you stay
awake?” Thanks to Anya, Danika and Ashlyn, he had everything a patient could desire on the bedside table. “Water? Pain meds? Food?”