Immortal Rider

Kynan often wondered if Decker regretted signing on as an Elder three weeks ago. It was an unheard of move, bringing an outsider into The Aegis’s top echelon, but they’d wanted to bring the military on board as fully as they could.

“I know that.” Kynan stood. “But they need to do more to help us find Arik.”

“I want Arik found as bad as you do.” Decker wiped his blade clean on a dead demon’s clothing, his movements jerky, edged with irritation. “But the military can’t put all its resources into it. They… we… are busy trying to head off Pestilence’s damned plagues and putting down the demonic outbreaks. So don’t give me any bullshit about how we’re sitting around and doing nothing.”

Ky eyed Decker as he considered taking this little disagreement to the next level, but screw it. Their teams might be rivals, but they played on the same field. They needed to save their blood for demon battles.

“Come on,” Ky said, slugging Deck in the shoulder. “Let’s get you back to DC.”

After that, it was off to see a Horseman about a volcano, and Ky had a feeling things were about to get hot. Sheoul hot.

“Want some water?”

Hell yeah, Arik wanted water. What kind of dumbass question was that? His throat was too raw and swollen to speak, so he merely nodded at Tavin, a blond Seminus demon Arik’s torturers had hired to heal him.

Tavin frowned, and gripped Arik’s shoulder with his right hand, which was marked all the way to his throat with tribal glyphs that all Seminus demons possessed. Apparently, they were a history of paternity, with the top symbol being personalized for each individual. Tavin’s seemed to be some kind of worm. He must take all kinds of shit from Sems who had cool symbols, like weapons or hourglasses or lightning bolts.

Sucked to be Tavin.

Sucked more to be Arik, though.

The demon channeled his healing gift into Arik’s body for the second time in the last ten minutes. The first time was to heal Arik’s broken ankles, his lacerated spleen, and the evisceration that had left his intestines hanging out of his navel.

Arik really f**king hated demons.

He’d been pretty solid on that point even before he’d been tortured to the brink of insanity, but the word “hate” wasn’t strong enough anymore. The English language needed a new word to describe how he felt about demons now.

Still, he supposed Tavin was okay for a demon. He wasn’t overly friendly, but he gave Arik more water than his captors ever did, and he always brought a new pair of scrub pants—black, as Arik requested—to replace the ones the demons destroyed during their torture sessions. Tavin had even presented an argument to his captors; the clothing protected Arik’s skin from infection that could kill him.

And, if Arik played his cards right, the pants would get him out of this hellhole.

Heat burned through Arik’s body, a byproduct of the Seminus healing ability, which allowed the demons to either repair injuries, affect bodily function, or tweak the mind. After a few seconds, Tavin’s energy had repaired damaged tissue and zapped Arik’s throat back into working order. It was still sore—hell, his entire body was sore—but at least now the pain was bearable.

“Thanks.” Arik rubbed his neck, mapping out the new scars. The demon had done an adequate job, and even the mental damage, the horrific memories, seemed to have faded. As always, after Tav was done with him, Arik felt whole again, not just physically, but mentally. “You’ve been patching my mind, haven’t you?”

Tavin’s expression was a whole lot of blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. I should be a head case by now. Fuck, I’m so damaged after a torture session that I don’t even know my own name. But when you’re finished with me… I dunno. You’re doing something.” Arik narrowed his eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I f**king hate liars, and I kinda think you’re all right for a demon. Don’t disappoint me.”

There was a heartbeat of hesitation… two… three… and then the pathetic moan of some nearby creature seemed to break the lock on Tavin’s silence.

“Seminus demons have only one of the three abilities.” His brisk tone made it clear that the discussion was over as he handed Arik a clay cup containing a few tablespoons of muddy liquid. Tasted like piss and mold, which it probably was, but it was wet, and he’d learned to take everything he could get.

Well, not everything. Sometimes the demons tempted him with things like fluffy, moist slabs of cake; thick, juicy, char-grilled steaks; and frosty mugs of beer. But he’d learned to never, ever touch the offerings, no matter how much his mouth watered and his stomach ached. Doing so earned him hot pokers in places not meant to handle molten iron rods.

Tav’s green eyes flashed with pity, and great, how pathetic were you when a demon pitied your sorry ass?

“Do you know why the demons want me to say the Horseman’s name, Tav?”

“Nope.” Bitterness dripped from Tavin’s normally level voice. “I’m just the hired help.”

“Why’d you take the job?”

Tavin took the cup from Arik and tucked it into his duffle of medical supplies. “No choice.”

“There’s always a choice.”

“Not when you’re an assassin locked into a contract.”

“Assassin, huh?” Arik’s rusty wheels started turning. “Don’t suppose you know a couple of half-breed Sems named Sin and Lore? They’re sort of extended family. They were assassins not long ago.” Lore was now Underworld General’s chief medical examiner, and Sin had taken a position in the demon hospital’s infectious disease department, since her mutated Seminus gift had given her the unique ability to cause disease. Apparently, there was hope that she could also learn how to destroy it.

Tavin reached into his medical bag for a tube of ointment. “I used to work with them.”

A sickly little flame of hope flared. “Can you get them a message?”

“Not until the demons who hired me no longer need me.”

At which point, Arik would probably be dead. “Come on… the R-XR and Aegis will compensate you nicely if you do this.” He couldn’t believe he was trying to make a deal with a demon. But then, it wouldn’t be the first time. At least in this case, his soul wasn’t on the table.

Just his life.

“I can’t risk it.”

“If you’re an assassin, you’ve got to be all sneaky and shit.”

“I am. But the answer is still no.” He smoothed a thin film of the greasy medicine over an abrasion on Arik’s chest. Tavin’s healing ability always tapped out before he could get to all the minor injuries. “Betraying this contract means an extremely long, painful death and possible eternal torment.”

“Sort of like what I’m going through?” Arik muttered.

“Pretty much.”

Arik glared. “Okay, so if you’re an assassin, why are you healing me?”

“Your captors paid a shit-ton of money for my services, whether that be killing or healing.”

“So you’d kill me if they asked you to?”

“Yep.”

Nice. “Look, if you’ll pass on a message—” Arik shut up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Tavin stepped away as two ugly-ass motherfuckers stopped at the cell door. Six-inch claws wrapped around the steel bars. Arik’s pulse leaped. He never knew if the demons were going to torture him, feed him, or merely taunt him.

“Human scum,” the tallest one said, the tusks protruding from his lower jaw dripping saliva. “We’re going to discuss your last ng s your meal.”

Well, this couldn’t be good. Arik rolled his shoulder in a nonchalant shrug, even though his heart was going ballistic.

“Last meal? How about surf-and-turf, medium-rare on the steak, fettuccine alfredo, and those amazing garlic cheese biscuits from Red Lobster? Could I get a Harp, too? Cold, though, not that room temperature crap they like in Ireland.”

Two sets of humorless black eyes stared back at him. “Your choice is putrefied meat with maggots or fish skin.”

“Awesome.” Arik tapped his chin, appearing to consider his options. “Hmm… gross or really gross. Tough decision. I’ll go with gross.”

The shorter ugly-ass motherfucker clicked his claws in agitation. “Which is?”

“Fish skin. Yum.” But hey, if it wasn’t rotten, it would actually be the best thing he’d eaten down here, so things weren’t all bad. And it sounded like they were actually going to kill him. He doubted it would be a quick death, but it couldn’t be worse than anything they’d already done to him.

The beasts spoke to each other in a language Arik didn’t understand, until about the tenth word, when his translation ability kicked in. They were discussing how much to tell him about how he’d die. They were also speculating about what would happen to his body afterward. Would they be allowed to eat him, or would his corpse be preserved and displayed somewhere? Maybe his body would be dumped outside of a hellmouth for his colleagues to find.

Right, okay, so Arik didn’t like any of those options.

He watched the two demons lumber away and wondered if prayers could reach Heaven from here. “Whatcha think, Tav? Is my death going to be quick or slow?”

“Slow, definitely.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Maybe this one time, Arik wouldn’t have minded a little white lie. He ran his hand up and down his chest, wincing at the feel of his rib cage. He’d lost so much weight down here. He’d tried to keep some muscle by doing pushups and sit-ups when he could, but scrounging up the energy wasn’t easy. “At least it’ll be over soon, I guess.”

“Don’t look so relieved, human.” Tavin stared at him, his eyes somber. “Death isn’t a good thing.”

“Spend a day in my shoes—you know, if I had them—and you’ll change your mind.”