The Darkest Lie (27 page)

          "You were given a demon." A statement, not a question. Not once had her eyes flickered with red. Not once had he seen a flash of undiluted evil behind her face. Oh, there was evil, all right, just not the demonic kind.

          She replied anyway. "No. I was spared."

          "Why? Not," he finished in a whisper. On. Off.

          "Zeus chose who was paired with what demon, and each pairing was determined out of spite. A punishment of sorts. I had done nothing to harm him. Nothing he recalled, that is."

          Truth mixed with smug superiority.

          Lies hissed.

          Zeus had told some of the Lords why they'd been given their demon. Lucien received Death because he'd opened Pandora's box, nearly leading to the demise of the world. Maddox received Violence because he'd killed the most soldiers in his quest to reach the box. Paris had seduced Pandora to distract her, therefore he'd received Promiscuity.

          Why, though, had Gideon been given Lies? He'd been a good warrior for the king. He'd helped steal Pandora's box, yes, but his part had been minimal because he'd felt so damn guilty for betraying his creator.

          With that line of thinking, another question arose. Why had Scarlet been given Nightmares?

          Lies began to purr.

          Gideon frowned. Why purr? That spoke of affection. I thought you were over Scarlet, you fickle bastard. Not mine, Lies said. Which really meant, All mine.

          You can't do that, you little shit. You can't keep changing your mind like that, wanting her one minute, discarding her the next. Not mine.

          I should ask her demon to--

          NOT MINE.

          Wait. What? Her...demon?

          NOT MINE.

          His eyes widened as everything finally slid into place. Had the two demons been...lovers while inside that box? Or maybe inside hell?

          The purring increased in volume, and he could only shake his head in wonder. All this time with his demon, and he hadn't realized such creatures could form connections like that. But Lies and Nightmares must have done so.

          That explained so much. Why Lies had wanted to stay with Scarlet, but hadn't cared about Scarlet herself. Why Lies had been willing to do something abhorrent to him, like tell the truth, just to keep Scarlet nearby. Why Lies had responded to Rhea when she'd looked like Scarlet. The demon had only seen the packaging and had assumed Nightmares was inside.

          Perhaps Zeus had known of the connection. Perhaps Zeus had also known of Scarlet's desire for Gideon. Perhaps he'd given Gideon the demon of Lies as a...gift.

          And you were trying to find a way to kill him. He might just owe the deposed king a big fat thank-you. He would rather kiss Scarlet, though. Damn it, where was she? What was she doing?

          Would she go for his throat the next time she saw him? She thought he was screwing her bitch of a mother, after all. Or would she try to avoid him for the rest of eternity?

          Even if she wanted to, she wouldn't be able to do so. She was tracking NeeMah and would eventually discover that the woman's trail led here. So they wouldmeet again. He would just have to make sure he was prepared. Fingers crossed she didn't kill him while he slept or remove his head before he'd had a chance to explain.

          Fingers crossed she even wanted to hear his explanation.

          "Speaking of memory loss...I think it's funny that you and Scarlet met again."

          NeeMah's voice drew him from his thoughts, and he arched a brow at her. "Not--" whispered "--again?" Loudly.

          "You probably don't remember--" she smiled at that, fleeting, but there all the same "--but you came looking for her once. Well, a little boy you discovered was actually a girl. She was grown by then and you clearly liked what you saw."

          Fire ignited in his chest, then spread to his limbs. At first, Gideon didn't know why. Then he realized Lies was storming through him, so agitated the turmoil seeped into Gideon. Why? "Do you remember?" the goddess asked him.

          He remembered that little boy, and now knew that had been Scarlet. Yet he didn't remember ever encountering an adult version Scarlet. Had his memory been screwed with?

          "Anyway, for some reason, you never returned. You left her there." She offered him another false grin. "Such a pity."

          He hopped up, panting with the force of his sudden rage. On. Off. On. Off. She had screwed with him.

          "Oh, do you wish to remember? Give me your hand, and it's done. Even with my collar, I can get inside your head."

          "One day," he snarled, gripping the bars, shaking, the lighter clinking against the metal.

          "Yes?" she asked, clearly thinking there was nothing he could do. She sat up, gaze never leaving him. "One day? What will you do?"

          "I will--I will--" Nothing sounded violent enough.

          "Will you kill me? Will you torture me? What can you truly do to harm me? Tell me I'm ugly? Tell me I'm powerless? Do it, then. And see how I punish Scarlet in turn. We both know she'll return for me. I'll convince her to hate you. I'll convince her to kill you. I'll convince her to sleep with man after man. I'll convince her to kill herself. And there's nothing--"

          A roar, loud and long, echoed between them. Through out the entire tirade, Lies had prowled and paced, a caged predator filled with rage. At the mention of Scarlet's death, the demon had erupted.

          Before Gideon knew what was happening, the demon exploded from his body, a dark vision of scales and horns and bones. Of evil.

          NeeMah yelped with horrified panic as the fiend chomped at her--before disappearing inside her. She jerked, hunched over. Whimpered. Soon, tears began streaming down her face.

          "I'm so ugly," she cried. "So powerless. I'm unworthy of life. Oh, gods, I'm so unworthy."

          All the things she'd taunted Gideon with, things she hadn't ever believed of herself. But now, with the demon convincing her that the lies were the truth, she believed, and it was tearing her up inside.

          He could only watch, his own rage easing in the shadow of his combined shock and fascination. Lies had actually left him. Left him. And was now obviously prowling through NeeMah's head, making her believe the lies about her beauty, her strength. How the demon had done it, he didn't know. Why the demon hadn't ever left him before, he didn't know.

          How the demon remained sane and Gideon alive, he didn't know, either.

          Minutes later, when NeeMah was a sobbing puddle on her cot, her entire body shuddering, the demon returned to him and settled inside his head, purring with more of that satisfaction.

          How did you do that? he asked, dazed.

          I know.

          The demon had no idea, then. Why did you come back?

          Aren't tethered to you.

          Holy hell. Can you do it again?

          I know.

          Let's find out. "You might want to buckle up," he told the goddess as he grinned. "You're about to have a lot of fun."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

          DRY, BRITTLE foliage reached out from the plethora of trees, slapping at Strider's cheeks, scratching his skin and darkening his already black mood. He had Hadiee, aka Haidee, aka Ex, roped to him and leading the way, taking the brunt of the branch-slaps as she grumbled and complained and called him all manner of names. "Bastard" was the kindest.

          Back at the hotel, he'd lain on top of her, vowing to hurt her worse than she'd ever been hurt, but in the end, he hadn't cut her into small pieces, hadn't even scratched her, and he was pissed as hell about it.

          He'd raised his blade to do so. To take a finger at the very least. She deserved it for killing Baden. But she'd gazed up at him with such courage, such challenge, wanting him to end her it seemed. So he'd stayed his hand. No way would he give her what she wanted.

          As if she sensed the direction of his thoughts--and hell, maybe she did. She was immortal now, but he didn't know how she was or what she was--she shouted over her shoulder, "You should have killed me, you stupid moron!" Her gray eyes gleamed. Her skin was flushed and dewy with sweat--that actually resembled tiny beads of ice--and her pink hair was plastered to her temples.

          Even worn-out, she was a lovely sight. Thank the gods "beautiful bitch" wasn't his type. "And end your suffering? Ha! Keep moving."

          "You're the one who's going to suffer. If you think I'll keep my fury to myself, you're stupider than you look. And you look endlessly stupid! I plan to tell you about every damn thing that bothers me. Starting with the insects. They're eating me alive!"

          For half an hour, she complained about the damn bugs. Only took five minutes, though, for his ears to start bleeding from the shrillness of her voice.

          "Time-out," she snapped. "We've been walking for hours, and I need to rest."

          "Time in. We're close to where I want to be. No resting yet."

          "Time-out. Or are you too scared to rest for a few minutes?"

          Scared? It was a challenge to prove himself, and one his demon accepted.

          Scowling, Strider stopped abruptly. Ex didn't realize this and kept moving until the rope around her ankle--a rope that was tied to his wrist--ran out of slack and jerked. She tumbled to her face, quickly rolled over and glared up at him.

          His scowl became a grin as he dropped his backpack at the base of a tree and flopped beside it. "Fine. Time-out."

          Ex remained on the ground, though she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "Bastard," she muttered.

          "Touch your ankle and I'll cut off your hands." An empty boast--maybe--but she didn't know that. "And here's another bitch-slap of truth, little girl. From now on, every time you challenge me, I will view it as an invitation to have sex with you." Nothing would disgust her more, he was sure.

          The rosy flush abandoned her cheeks. "Warning received."

          Good. Now. Since they were resting "for a few minutes," he might as well make the best of it. "Hungry?"

          "Yes."

          He unzipped his pack and withdrew a box of Red Hots.

          Ex spotted them, and her eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "That's what you brought for field rations? You idiot! Stupid is too generous a word for you. Candy won't sustain us."

          "Speak for yourself." He tossed a mouthful past his lips, chewed and closed his eyes at the delicious taste. Maybe even moaned.

          When he next looked at her, she was frowning and holding out her hand.

          "You sure you want some? These are only for idiots too stupid to bring proper field rations."

          "Just give me."

          He dumped a few of the precious candies into her shockingly chilled palm before he could change his mind about feeding her, then shook as many as he could fit into his mouth. Again, his eyes closed in ecstasy. Cinnamon. There was no better taste. Even females couldn't compare. Unless they tasted like cinnamon, but he'd never met one who did. Not naturally, at least.

          "Where we going, anyway?" Ex grumbled.

          He swallowed. "None of your damn business." He said it pleasantly, yet left no room for argument.

          Truth was, he was taking her to Budapest. Only, he was taking her the long way. Through forest and desert and anything else that struck his fancy. Anything that would break her down, weaken her and force her to rely on him. Not to mention, get her boyfriend off his trail.

          Right now they were on the newly risen island of the Unspoken Ones, making their way to the temple, but staying away from civilization.

          After all, he'd been on his way to visit the Unspoken Ones when Ex and her friends had interrupted him, and he saw no reason to change his plans on her account. Besides, this way he had the added benefit of showing Ex what a true monster was.

          They'd frighten her, she'd realize Strider wasn't as bad as she'd thought and be grateful he'd kept her safe. Soon she would trust him to always see to her protection. She would open up and tell him everything he wanted to know about her and her Hunter pals. Since he obviously didn't have the stomach to kill her--now, at least, and that still dropped him right into a shame spiral--he might as well use her. And then betray her. Just as she'd betrayed Baden.

          When Strider finished with her, when she trusted him completely, he might just send her back to her people. After they knew how disloyal she had been to them, that is. Then they could kill her.

          To gain her trust, though, he couldn't be too nice to her. Not in the beginning at least. She would become suspicious. Besides, he wasn't that good an actor. He hated this woman, and the thought of being nice to her grated his every nerve.

          "Got any water?" she asked in that whining, complaining voice.

          Gra-ted. "Yeah." He grabbed one of the bottles of water he'd brought, twisted off the cap and drained most of the contents while she watched. A whimper escaped her, and he squeezed the bottle a little too hard, crackling the plastic.

          "Well? Are you going to share or not?"

          With a forced shrug, he tossed her what was left. "That has my cooties," he informed her.

          "Good news is, I'm up-to-date on all my shots." She drained the contents in seconds, then peered over at him, clearly irritated with what little he'd given her.

          "Be grateful I gave you any at all," he said with feeling.

          "Evil bastard."

          "Murderous bitch." Stop. This isn't the way to win her over. Who cares if she becomes suspicious thanks to sweet behavior?

          Win her over, Defeat commanded. Win. Win. Win.

          Great. His demon saw winning her as a challenge. It was a challenge he hadn't needed, but there was no way around it now. He had to convince her to--he almost growled--like him.

          Motions clipped, Strider dug through the backpack until he found the dehydrated meat he'd brought. He pulled out a bag of it, as well as another bottle of water, and tossed both to the girl.

          She caught them easily, realized what they were and grumbled, "Thanks."

          "You're...welcome." Ugh. That hadn't been fun to say. Actually tasted like ash on his tongue.

          Silent, he watched her as she ate. Dirt smudged her face, and there were tiny scratches along her jaw. Bugs had bitten her neck, leaving swollen, pink circles. Her clothes were wet with perspiration and just as dirty as her face.

          Why didn't any of that detract from her loveliness?

          She probably made a deal with the devil. Like Legion. Unlike Aeron, he wasn't willing to die to save her. "How long have you been dating your man?"

          Dark lashes lifted, and then gunmetal eyes were peering into his soul. "Why do you want to know?"

          "Simple curiosity."

          "Fine. I'll tell you. But answer a question for me first."

          "Sure." That didn't mean he'd answer honestly.

          "Do you have a girlfriend?"

          "No." Truth. No reason to lie about that.

          "Didn't think so," she said with a smugness that irritated him.

          Strider popped his jaw. What? She didn't think he was good-looking enough to catch a female? She didn't think anyone could tolerate him for long periods of time? Well, she was mistaken. He didn't have a girlfriend because he didn't want one. His demon fed off the challenge of winning their hearts, but once that was accomplished, the demon's attraction was gone.

          And then, of course, the females would try and challenge him in other ways. Ways he hated. Bet you can't spend the entire day with me and enjoy yourself. Bet you won't call me every night for the next week. It was just better for everyone involved if he kept things temporary.

          "So," he said. "How long have you been dating your man?"

          "Seven months."

          Seven months? In human years--something akin to dog years--that was a very long time. "So why haven't you guys gotten married?"

          She shrugged as she stuffed the last piece of jerky into her mouth.

          "Let me guess. You wanted to, but he didn't?"

          "Actually," she said stiffly, "he wanted to, but I didn't."

          Interesting, and unexpected. "Why didn't you? Just using him for sex?"

          The flush returned to her cheeks, softening her features, making her more than beautiful. Making her appear vulnerable...sweet. "Something like that," she muttered.

          There was a tightening in his chest. One he didn't understand and didn't want to contemplate. You aren't attracted to this woman.

          "Not to change the subject--and by that I mean I'm ready to change the subject. Do you remember killing me?" she asked.

          "Yes." All those centuries ago, he'd slammed his blade into her stomach, raging over what she'd done to Baden. Then, when she'd doubled over, he'd taken her head. "Mind telling me how you're alive?"

          She ignored him. "No guilt for your actions?"

          "Hell, no. Do you feel guilty for what you did to my best friend?"

          "Hell, no."

          He hadn't thought so. And that...bothered him. It shouldn't have bothered him. He knew who and what she was--for the most part. Snuffing out evil was her ultimate goal, and she'd considered Baden evil. Would it have killed her to pretend remorse, though?

          Frowning, he zipped up his bag and stood. "Time in. Again," he barked. Then cringed. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh.

          Ex didn't rush to obey. In fact, she stared up at him for a long while, hands rubbing up and down her calves.

          "Up," he said more gently, tugging at the rope. But there was too much give in that rope. Somehow she had managed to cut it, even though he'd never seen her fingers near it. And she certainly hadn't been gripping a knife. Not one that he'd been able to see, at least.

          "Time out." Grinning, she kicked out her leg with more force than someone her size should have been capable of, swiping his ankles together and knocking him to the ground. Like a bolt of lightning, she streaked off.

          Catch, catch. Win, win, Defeat shouted as Strider leaped to his feet and darted after her. You're losing. You must win.

          As he sprinted, he reached for the Cloak he'd strapped to his chest, hiding it there because he'd known the last thing Ex would want to do was feel him up. Only, it wasn't there.

          That...bitch! Somehow, she'd stolen it. Just like with the rope, he had no idea how she'd done it. He only knew he had to catch her. Before she reached her boyfriend.

          SO LOUD...so terrible. Amun was somehow on his feet, gripping a blade. William and Aeron were on each of his sides, pinning him in to protect him. A new horde of demons surrounded them--they'd already fought the first and second lines of defense--some small, some big, but all of them determined. Their thoughts...totally focused on blood and pain and death.

          Taste, they thought. Hurt. Kill. They swiped at the warriors with their claws, biting at them with poisoned fangs, kicking and hitting, laughing and taunting.

          The battle itself had been raging for hours. Maybe days. Perhaps years. Each man was exhausted, cut, bleeding, shaking, at the edge, probably in agonizing pain, and every time they killed a demon, three more took its place. But they refused to give up.

          Amun tried to help them, but every time he moved, every time he reached out to slash one of the creatures, a new voice entered his mind and grew in volume, new images flashing inside his head--rapes, more tortures, more killings--nearly driving him to his knees.

          Through it all, Lucifer sat upon his throne, watching, grinning, Legion at his feet. Every so often, he would pet her head as if she were a favored dog. And when she would try and rise, desperate to help Aeron, the prince of darkness would dig his claws into her scalp and hold her down until she whimpered her surrender, blood trekking down her temples.

          "I don't know how much more I can take," Aeron gritted out.

          "Arm...hanging...by...thread," William replied. He wasn't exaggerating, either.

          Must help them, Amun thought. The air was hot, draining what little remained of his strength. And the smoke...gods, all he wanted to do was cough. Cough until he finally hacked up enough intestine to die.

          Although, that might not be necessary. The scent of death clung to every inhalation, stinging his nostrils, promising a reckoning. Very, very soon.

          Push through. Ignore the voice, the images. Only reason the two warriors were still standing, despite the poison probably working through them from those demon bites, was that they'd drunk the rest of the Water of Life.