Immortal Rider

Arik sat still as Tav finished healing him—again. It was the second time in twelve hours, which wasn’t unusual, but Arik had hoped he’d have a reprieve from the torture since they’d decided to execute him.

Not so much.

He cast a glance at the door, where he’d looped his uber-thin braided string around a blackened bar between the wall and the lock. So far, so good. No one had noticed. Demons weren’t the most observant creatures on the planet.

“So, Tav, whatcha got planned for later?”

Tavin peeled off his surgical gloves. “Sex Clov

Right. Seminus demon. Needed to have sex or die. “Groovy.”

“And you?”

Escape. Arik shrugged. “I’ll probably eat the bucket of fish skin and guts your friends bring me. After that, I’m pretty sure I have an appointment with the executioner. Why? You want to make a date?”

Tav shoved the gloves inside his medic duffel. “You’re not my type. Sems can only come with a female.”

“Huh. I’m not a Seminus demon, but I can only come with a female too.”

Tavin laughed, something Arik had never seen him do. “I like you, human.” He sobered, his smile turning sad. “I doubt I’ll see you again.”

Arik clapped the demon on the back. “You know, I appreciate gallows humor a lot more than sappy goodbyes.”

Tav shouldered his bag and signaled the guard. “I hope you find peace, human.” He lowered his voice just a little. “And remember that if you always go the right way, you never have to make a left-hand turn.”

“Ah… okay. I don’t have any baffling bits of wisdom for you, but hey, I make it a rule to never bet on white horses. Following that advice has never lost me any money.”

“I’ll remember that.”

The door opened, and Arik strategically placed his hand over the handcrafted rope he’d wrapped around the vertical bar the door locked into. “See ya around, demon.”

Tavin stepped out, and as the door swung shut, Arik dragged the strands of thread downward, grateful for the elastic stretch, so it formed a barrier between the lock mechanism on the door and the bolt catch on the bar. Now he just had to pray that the tiny bone he’d ground into a pick would be strong enough to work the lock from the outside as the rope put pressure on the slide from the inside. Stupid bastard demons didn’t know Arik had learned their languages and listened in on their conversations to figure out that only bone would open the lock.

Score one for the human, a**holes.

Tav offered a respectful wave, and once he and the guards disappeared, Arik went to work. Limping, because his ankles and right knee ached from the recent torture, he scrounged up the needlelike bone and moved to the door. Squeezing his hand between the bars, he inserted the bone shard into the lock and prayed this would work.

Carefully, he tugged on the rope, felt the give in the lock, and his heart leaped. As he dug around with the bone, he listened for clicks and felt for patterns in the mechanism. He increased the pressure on the rope, and gradually, the metal began to give, until the mechanism had retreated. He gently shouldered the door, and it creaked open, the ear-splitting—to Arik, anyway—noise putting his pulse into overdrive. If one of the demon bastards heard…

He stepped out of the cell. A sense of freedom lifted his heart, but at the same time, he had to fight a disturbing ur Cdisn bastardsge to return to the chamber. Adrenaline winged through him, making him sweat, making his skin tighten, and he actually eyed the inside of the cell with uncertainty.

Yeah, his hesitation was f**ked up, and the logical side of his brain that remembered his military training reminded him that his reaction was common in people and animals that had been held captive. The horror of the prison could be far less scary than the horror on the outside. The horror of the unknown.

But Arik had thought he was stronger than that.

Fuck it, he was stronger than that, and he took his first step down the dark passageway. Around him, he heard the incessant drip that had driven him crazy for weeks, but so far, no footsteps or voices. Silently, he padded on bare feet through the winding cavern, but when he came to a fork in the path, he paused. One way continued off into the darkness, becoming hazy the farther it went, and while the other path was just as inky, it seemed to have a slight incline. Since Arik needed to go up to get to the human realm, the choice was a no-brainer.

He started on the path, stopping now and then to listen for demons. There was the distinct scuffing noise of spiny hellrats as they scurried along the tunnels, but no other demon sounds. So far, so good.

Until the next fork.

Both tunnels were dark, shot through with stalactites and stalagmites, and seriously, what the f**k? How could the path go from being relatively smooth to a damned obstacle course?

He pondered the fork, played three rounds of eenie-meenie-miney-moe, and blew out a frustrated breath. Which way…

Remember that if you always go the right way, you never have to make a left-hand turn.

He blinked. Had Tavin given him a clue? That sneaky little Sem. Having no better option, Arik took the right path, carefully weaving his way around the stony projections. When he came to the next set of tunnels—three of them, this time—he stayed right. The general curvature of the tunnel veered to the left, but again and again, when he came to choices, he hung rights. And oddly, he didn’t encounter any demons.

He walked for what seemed like hours, until his feet bled and his gut cramped from thirst. The tunnels grew hotter and hotter, some thick with steam and smoke, and others so empty of oxygen that more than once he nearly passed out.

He left a trail of blood behind him as he walked, and shit, this sucked. Bad. He stumbled a few times, cut his hands, his knees, and his scrub pants were now little more than shredded rags. He fantasized about food and cold beer—and, to his annoyance, Limos—as he forged ahead, his eyes peeled, his senses, which had felt dulled for so long, now on high alert.

Then, from out of nowhere, his hopes and fantasies crashed in on him like he’d taken a hit from a Tomahawk missile.

“Hello, Arik.”

The deep, ominous voice froze Arik to his very marrow. Pestilence had found him.

Six

Limos entered Underworld General’s emergency room, which was busier than shit. A golden-haired nurse, Vladlena according to her nametag, slowed as she wheeled a gurney containing a bleeding patient past.

“Eidolon is in surgery.” She pointed in the direction of the triage desk. “Shade is over there.”

“I’m not here for—”

Vladlena took off without listening, but Shade had caught sight of Limos. Great. Shade had been a major pain in the ass lately. He was mated to Arik’s sister, and though there didn’t seem to be any love lost between Arik and Shade, the demon was not happy to see his mate worried about her brother. And naturally, since Arik’s situation was Limos’s fault—indirectly, since Arik kissed her, not the other way around—Shade had been making life hell for Limos.

Shade tossed the clipboard he’d been holding onto the reception desk and stalked over. “You have news?”

“Nothing new,” she said. “I’m here to meet Kynan.”

“I just got off the phone with him. He’s on his way.”

“Thanks.”

“You can thank me by finding Arik.” He strode away before she could respond. Jackass.

She plunged her hand in her pocket and played with Arik’s dogtags as she observed the nonstop stream of patients coming through the ER. What was he doing right now? Was he screaming in agony? Was he huddled in the dark, cold and afraid? Was he thinking about her and cursing her name? She broke out in a sticky sweat that smelled like guilt. Putrid, thick, bitter guilt.

Desperate for a distraction, she grabbed Vladlena again. “Is it always so busy?”

“Lately,” she sighed. “It’s all the underworld turmoil. Those who want the Apocalypse to start are fighting those who don’t, and then the warg wars have started up again, and a new plague is affecting feline shifters, so we’re getting an influx of them.”

Limos had no doubt that Pestilence was behind the shifter plague, his way of sending a message. Namely, that once the Apocalypse started, shifters had better side with him, or he’d take them all out with a touch of a finger.

Vladlena took off just as Kynan stepped out of the gate, his denim blue eyes instantly zeroing in on Limos. “What’s this about?” he said by way of greeting.

“Nice to see you too,” she muttered. “Come on. I have something to show you. Something you might find helpful.” The lie stroked all her pleasure centers and made her a little dizzy.

Kynan cursed, but entered the Harrowgate with her. Since he had been charmed by angels, he had little to fear, but it didn’t surprise her that when the gate opened inside the t K inbeeomb, he hesitated.

“If this is a trap—”

“It’s not.” But yeah, she could understand his concern. She’d brought him to a sealed tomb, and if she opened a gate and got out without him, he would be trapped until his friends found him… which could be a long, long time. “See that stone box? It’s an Aegis vault. I found it while I was searching for my agimortus.”

A shot of adrenaline streamed into her veins, and for a moment, she had to breathe through the lovely jolt. It had been so long since she’d told such a big lie, so long since she’d gotten a forbidden thrill from it, that she’d forgotten how great it felt.

The weigh scales on her shoulder blade made a substantial tip in favor of evil, reminding her of the gravity of what she’d just done. The farther the scales tipped and the longer they remained weighted toward evil, the poorer choices she made, the less she cared about anyone but herself. Worse, she’d enjoy others’ suffering. She’d start famines for fun, and all it would take was a touch. She could lay her finger on a single man, and it wouldn’t matter how much food he ate—he’d slowly starve, and everyone he came into contact with would suffer the same fate. All the while, she’d laugh. She’d make Pestilence look like a Boy Scout.