The Dark-Hunters (630 page)

But over time, he’d learned not to want. Learned not to remember.

At least
he
wasn’t degrading or torturing her like they’d done to him.

“You’d better get used to it here. Soon there won’t be a home for you to return to.”

She was aghast. “You would kill your own mother?”

There was nothing but coldness inside him where the goddess Styx was concerned. “My mother was the one who stripped my powers from me and turned me out into the world. What do you think?”

“I think your mother should be beaten for her cruelty and probably Zeus, too, but the rest of us shouldn’t have to die because the two of them were wrong.”

Yes, but that wasn’t good enough to appease his anger. Not by a long shot. “You know
nothing
about revenge.”

“You’re right. I don’t. All I know is how to protect people. It’s all I’ve ever done.”

“Because you’re a mindless automaton.”

She lifted her chin. “Better a mindless automaton who protects than a rampaging murderer without any regard for others. Just because my emotions were bound, it doesn’t make me mindless any more than you were while you carried out Zeus’s punishments before your banishment. Hephaestus told me how he begged you not to hurt Prometheus. Yet you stood over Hephaestus, making him shackle the god to the rock so that he could be torn apart every single day for the rest of eternity.”

“And you see how well that turned out. Believe me, I have paid dearly for my mindless obedience. If I could go back, I would have driven my sword through Zeus when I had the chance.”

Delphine put her hands up and choked the air between them. “But you didn’t. You did the right thing, and now I ask you to do the right thing again. Join our side in this battle. Don’t let evil take over the world.”

He laughed bitterly. “You do realize that the one and only time in my life I did the right thing, I was cursed for it? That fact doesn’t really motivate me to repeat the experience. When Zeus asked if any god would stand up for me, they all turned their backs. They’re the ones who started this.
All
of them. Now I intend to finish it
and
them. The world be damned.”

“And it will be,” she said choking on the hopeless grief that welled up inside her. “It will be.” She drew a deep breath before she spoke again. “Then what will become of you?”

“Does it matter?”

“If it doesn’t matter to you, how could it possibly matter to someone else?”

He curled his lip. “Don’t twist my words with your bullshit psychology. No one likes me. Boo-hoo. I really don’t give a shit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an army to meet and train.” He vanished.

Delphine expelled a long breath as the air around her cleared. His anger and pain was so thick, it was virtually tangible.

What would it take to reach him?

Was it even possible?

But the saddest part was that she couldn’t blame him even a little for his reaction. What had been done to him had been wrong. Unforgivable. How would she have reacted in his place? To save a life and have it ruin yours …

The trade-off seemed so unfair.

And the clock was ticking. Time would be up soon.

If he can’t be turned, he must be destroyed.…

There was no other way.

CHAPTER 4

This time Jericho found noir in the war room with no sign of Azura. Dressed in his burgundy armor, the primordial god was sitting in a chair with his legs propped up on the table and his ankles crossed. His eyes were half-opened, his fingers laced as his hands rested on his stomach.

If Jericho didn’t know better, he’d think Noir had been napping.

“You want something?”

Jericho paused at the gruff words. Even though Noir hadn’t added an insult to the end, they were said with enough contempt that it was more than implied.

“Azura told me I was to lead an army. I would like to meet those soldiers.”

Noir smirked at him. “Do you understand what we’re asking you to do?”

“Kill Zeus and bring the Olympians down.”

Noir’s face was impassive and cold. “You think you can do that?”

Jericho wasn’t one to be intimidated. While he knew Noir was the more powerful of the two of them, he really didn’t give a shit. “I’m a Titan and I fought with Zeus to imprison my brethren for him. What do you think?”

“I think if you stand by those brave words, you’ll be a worthy ally.”

“You doubt me?”

Noir shrugged before he yawned as if the conversation bored him. “I doubt everyone. I have yet to find one person I can’t corrupt and/or own. Everyone is for sale. It’s just a matter of negotiating the right price.”

“Then I probably should have asked for more.”

Noir laughed. “Yes, you should have. I expected you to be harder to sway, but then I didn’t take into account your immense hatred of Zeus.” He took in a long, savoring breath. “I so love the smell of hatred and revenge. It’s the headiest of concoctions.”

Jericho disagreed. “I personally feel that way toward blood. No better smell in the universe than when it’s combined with the aroma of those fearing death.”

Noir sucked his breath in sharply as if he was getting a sexual thrill from Jericho’s description. “Oh, I do like you. True kindred spirits are hard to find.”

“You forgot who and what birthed me.”

Noir nodded as he twiddled his thumbs. “I pity those born of the lighter side. They have no understanding of how seductive cruelty is. The music made out of screams and pleas for mercy. Mmmm. Nothing better.”

Jericho swore he could feel the blade at his side tremble, but whether in approval or fear, he couldn’t tell.

“Asmodeus!” Noir shouted suddenly. “Show yourself.”

A dark cloud formed at Noir’s side. It slowly solidified into a being that reminded Jericho of a tall elf. His sharp features leaned toward pretty, yet his dark gray eyes showed nothing but cruelty. Dressed all in black, the demon looked sinister and emotionless. “You called me, Master?”

Noir gave him a cold stare. “I would never call
you
master, slug.” He jerked his chin to indicate Jericho. “This is our newest ally. I want you to show him to Zeth and the rest of the Olympian dogs who fight for us.”

Asmodeus bowed low in true sycophantic form. “Anything else, Master? Lick your boots? Wipe your ass?”

Noir shoved him roughly, but didn’t rise from his seat. “Piss me off, worm, and it’ll be the other way around.”

Asmodeus’s eyes widened as he straightened. “And on that note, Master, I’ll be taking him to Zeth.” He paused beside Jericho. “Come with me, Minor Master. I’ll show you the way.” The demon headed for the door.

What an absolutely bizarre creature. Jericho hesitated in his place for a moment longer as Noir continued to stare at nothing.

“Is there anything else?” Noir asked from his half-lidded repose. Even though it looked as if he were oblivious, Jericho had a feeling nothing escaped Noir’s attention.

“Just curious. When you rule the world, what do you plan to do with it?”

“Enjoy it. It’s been too long since we were last revered by the masses. Once you get a new taste of it, you’ll understand. And you’ll remember. We are overlords. It’s mother’s milk to our kind.”

Noir was right. Jericho couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown him any kind of respect or even common decency. He’d spent years of his past locked in prisons, in dungeons and other hell holes Zeus had dumped him in. No part of him had been left unviolated.

It was why he wanted to be sticky with the blood of the Olympians. Why he wanted to lick it from his fingers …

Inclining his head to the ancient power, Jericho turned and followed Asmodeus out of the room and down the hallway that seemed to glow. How very strange.

“Where does the light come from?” he asked the demon.

Asmodeus glanced up, then looked back at the floor as they walked. “Um, I don’t think you want me to answer that, Minor Master.”

“Why not?”

“It might upset you.”

“Then upset me.”

Asmodeus hesitated another few seconds before he finally answered. “It’s from the blood of
the
Cali, not the goddess Kali, ’cause let’s face it, bleeding her would just anger her and that’s not a smart thing to do since she’s pretty damn powerful—you probably knew that. Rather it’s from the little harmless Cali demons who were created when she pricked her finger on a rose.
Those
Cali. Apparently their blood glows. Who knew, right?”

Jericho paused as he looked up. The Cali were a benevolent race of demons who helped mankind. Since he’d never fought them, he’d had no idea their blood was blue or that it glowed. The blood flowed through the tubes, reminding him of a glow stick. “How many did it take to illuminate the hallway?”

Asmodeus visibly cringed. “Well, you see the problem with blood is that it often dries out, and so you have to keep a constant supply of it, which is really not something we’re supposed to talk about and why I said you didn’t really want me to answer your question. I was right, huh?”

Jericho’s stomach churned at the thought of the cold brutality of killing a species just to use their blood for light. Then again, humans pulled fireflies apart for the same exact reason. He couldn’t count the number of people he’d seen who had smeared the poor insect’s abdomen over their skin to make it glow and then laughed about it.

He supposed it was basically the same principle, really.

Jericho continued after Asmodeus. “How many demons and people are enslaved here?”

“Define slavery.” Asmodeus hedged.

“Kept against their will.”

“Good definition.” He scratched his chin in thought. “Counting me?”

“Why not?”

“Probably a couple of million … you know it’s really hard to count to a million, plus they’re always dying and new ones are coming in. I tried to count once, but it got really depressing so I stopped. The constant adding and subtracting. Not my forte, really.”

It made Jericho wonder what the demon’s forte was. Then again, it was probably best not to ask. “How long have you been here?”

“Don’t know. Again, tried to count once, got depressed so I stopped. I find it easier to just go with the flow. Ease with the peas.”

Jericho frowned. “Ease with the peas?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly, “that’s not a happy memory, either. Let’s forget I mentioned it.” He stopped outside a door. “Here we are. Maybe I should warn you before we enter.”

Jericho stepped past him and threw open the door.

“Or maybe not. Let’s just barge in and be surprised, shall we?”

Jericho was definitely surprised by what he found. There were drunk Skoti everywhere. Some entwined in scenes the
Kama Sutra
would appreciate. He had to pause at one couple. The sheer flexibility required to do what they were doing was amazing …

Damn, they would both need a chiropractor later.

If it didn’t kill them first.

“They’re blood-drunk,” Asmodeus explained as he tugged on Jericho’s arm. “Appears they’ve never celebrated their victories before. Personally reminds me of a bunch of drunk frat boys, but what do I know? I’ve only seen the movie
Animal House.
At least none of them are pretending to be zits.” Asmodeus shuddered.

Jericho scowled at the rambling demon. “Are you always this random?”

He nodded glibly. “Mostly. It really irritates Noir, which is just an added bonus for me. At least so long as I can outrun him.”

Jericho gave him a hard, unamused stare. “Add me to that list of people you annoy.”

“Oh.” He looked a bit stricken. “You’re not going to singe my testicles over it, are you?” Jericho admired the even, dry delivery of a question that was obviously near and dear to the demon’s heart.

“No plans to.”

Asmodeus cheered up immediately. “Good. We can be friends, then.”

Friends? Given the demon’s personality, he wasn’t so sure about that. But Asmodeus seemed rather harmless and a font of information. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad to keep him around.

Provided he could calm down. There was something about the demon that reminded him of a wound-up Jack Russell terrier.

Jericho turned his attention back to the horny, out-of-control Skoti. “So who leads them?”

“That one.” Asmodeus pointed toward a couch where a male Skotos was entwined with two half-naked females. “I think they’re having trouble adjusting to the emotions they have outside of their dreams. At any rate, they keep acting like demented teenagers from a porno version of a John Hughes film.”

Jericho frowned. “How are you so up to speed on pop culture?”

“You ever been trapped in a hell hole? When not being tortured by psychos, there’s not much else to do. Besides, I like Molly Ringwald. She has this demon look about her that really turns me on. Wish I could get her out of her panties for a few minutes.”

Yeah … well, at least it explained much about the demon’s insanity.

Jericho watched the Skotos, who was oblivious to the fact that there were unwanted guests here as he kissed his way down the female’s body. “Head guy is Zeth?”

Asmodeus grinned. “Oooh, someone was paying attention in class. Yes. Zeth. I would introduce you but he doesn’t like me, either. And since he’s one of those kids who likes to pull the wings off demons—”

“You don’t have any wings,” Jericho reminded him.

“Anymore. Key word there.”

Jericho winced in sympathetic pain. He wasn’t sure if he still had his own wings or not. As a human, they’d been taken from him. And since his powers had been restored, he had yet to try them out.

Not wanting to think about that right now, he made his way through the floor of passed out or entwined bodies to the couch where Zeth appeared as drunk as the rest of them.

He didn’t look up until Jericho cleared his throat.

Zeth pulled his head back from the woman’s throat to stare up at him.

Jericho frowned. Instead of the trademark blue eyes of the Skoti, Zeth’s were jet black. So black, he couldn’t even see the man’s pupils. Were they that dilated or did something else cause it?

Zeth looked him up and down. “Who are you?”