Lethal Rider

Thanatos was going to strangle this a**hole. “She gave birth,” he ground out. “I tried to save her.”

“So what you’re saying is that she’s in your armor.” He paused. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to remove her and allow her to pass to the Other Side instead of being brought to Sheoul-gra by your griminions.”

“And why would I do that?”

Okay, he was going to lay down a card he hoped was his ace. “Because you’re my father.”

Idess’s head whipped around to stare at him. Azagoth eyed him for a long time, and Than got the impression the dude was intentionally letting him sweat.

“You have balls coming to me and expecting a favor from a father you never met.”

“So it’s true?”

Azagoth laughed. “No. I’m not your father. I’d have remembered f**king Lilith. That bitch has been after me for centuries.”

Damn. That had been Than’s only good play. He had nothing else. Had Azagoth been anyone different, Thanatos could have threatened him, tortured him, beaten him until he agreed to help. But this was a guy who held power over souls, which meant he could torment Regan, and everyone else Than cared about, for eternity.

“Please.” Thanatos hefted Regan’s limp body closer, as if she could shield him from having to beg. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything? Will you give me your son?”

A hot ball of fire dropped into Than’s gut, and inside, he felt as though he was being pummeled by fists. Regan’s fists.

“Anything but that,” he growled.

“That’s what I want.”

Inside his armor, Regan clawed at him. She didn’t need to worry. No one was taking their son.

“Go to hell, Azagoth.” Than headed for the door before he went crazy and slaughtered the a**hole.

“Thanatos, wait.” Idess approached her father, her hands folded together as if in prayer. “Thanatos saved my life.”

Great. There was a reason he hadn’t brought that up. Nothing like telling a father that your brother tortured the f**k out of his daughter.

Azagoth narrowed his eyes at Than. “Explain.”

Thanatos stiffened at the command, but checked his pride before he screwed up something that might save Regan’s soul. “You know Pestilence was trying to destroy Sheoul-gra.”

“Of course.” Azagoth turned toward the hearth, which was blazing but not putting off heat. “Word gets around down here.”

“Father,” Idess said, “Pestilence was capturing Memitim and torturing them into giving away your location.”

Azagoth’s head damned near pulled an Exorcist, swiveling around to Idess without his body moving. His eyes had gone oily black, swallowing the whites, and when he spoke, his voice had a dangerous, serrated edge. “He dared to harm my children?” His body finally followed his head. “He took you?”

She nodded. “If not for Thanatos, Ares, Lore, and Reaver, I’d still be hanging from razor wire.”

The Grim Reaper’s snarl sent the souls and griminions in the tunnel scattering.

“Drop your armor,” he snapped at Thanatos.

“Why?”

Azagoth practically spat fire. “Because I requested it.”

Reluctantly, Than did as the bastard requested. “Now what?”

“Remove your clothes.”

Than locked his jaw to keep from cursing. If Azagoth wanted sexual favors … Than shuddered, but lay Regan gently on the ground and stripped. Never before had he felt so exposed as Azagoth circled him, his finger trailing over Than’s skin as he went. At least Idess had turned away. He wondered if her father was going to make her stay for whatever was to come.

He wondered if she’d stand by when Thanatos killed her father afterward.

“I know your secret, Horseman.” Azagoth stopped behind him, pressed his body against Than’s back, and whispered into his ear. “I know you fathered the vampire race. Your daywalkers have passed through on occasion.”

“It’s not a secret anymore,” he ground out.

“Really. You do know that I have the ultimate say in whether a species is annihilated or not.”

Fuck, no, Thanatos didn’t know that.

“And you know that I’ve destroyed all unauthorized species. Do you want to know why I haven’t destroyed the vampires?”

“Why?”

“Because, like my Memitim, they are a perfect combination of good and evil. They’re balanced. Yes, they choose to be as evil or as good as they want to be, but so do humans. So I’ve let them continue, even though once your secret reaches the Heavenly masses, they’ll throw down orders to destroy the vampires, and I’ll be in trouble for knowing all along.”

“And what will you do then?”

Instead of answering, Azagoth resumed his perusal of Than’s body, stopping every once in a while to trace a tattoo. The ones on his ass were, naturally, the most interesting to Azagoth. The bastard. “They’re extraordinary. I want them.”

“I’d bring you the tattoo artist, but she’s dead.”

“I know that. But it wouldn’t matter. I want yours.”

“Why?”

Azagoth hissed. “My reasons are my own. But I assure you that you’ll be giving me something I’ve desired for a long, long time.”

Thanatos was pretty sure Azagoth could get a damned tattoo anytime he wanted, so clearly, there was something special he wanted from Than’s, specifically. Which probably meant that giving them to him would be a bad, bad idea.

Whatever. “Done.”

“This one,” Azagoth said, stroking his finger over the winged serpent on his hip.

Agony shot through him as the thing ripped off his flesh, and then came the agony of being slammed with the memories of what it had been suppressing. The images and emotions were sharp, acute, and he staggered at the blast from the day nearly a thousand years ago when he’d slaughtered a legion of men whose symbol had been a winged snake.

“And this one.”

Thanatos hissed, the pangs of torment even greater this time. Azagoth had taken the bow that dulled the memories of killing his father. A dozen more times Azagoth took tattoos, each one nearly taking Than to his knees. He wondered if Regan could feel his pain, or if she was shielded from his emotions when the armor was gone.

Finally, Azagoth stepped back and ripped open his shirt. Fourteen of Thanatos’s tats decorated the fallen angel’s chest.

“All of the beauty, without all of the pain,” Azagoth mused. “Awesome.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Azagoth tilted his head, studying Than with those assessing eyes. “I imagine you’re in a lot of pain right now.”

“I’ll live.” Than stepped into his pants.

“Yes, you will. You’ll live the rest of your life without getting another tattoo.”

Than paused while shrugging into his shirt. “Why not?”

“Because you have spent five thousand years cheating. The deaths you cause should mean something. They should cause you misery. Instead, you bury them and feel nothing. It pisses me off.”

Jesus. Regan had said the same thing. He’d dismissed her at the time, because as a human she couldn’t possibly understand five thousand years of killing. Shame heated his face.

Azagoth’s anger quieted, his voice doing the same. “I understand why you did it. You grew up with peaceful people. Death and violence was especially hard on you. And you, of all your siblings, saw the most of both. You compensated in the only way you could. But you can’t do that anymore. That’s the deal. That, and you will promise to never make another daywalker. When those heavenly a**holes come to me and ask why I didn’t destroy the vampires, I can say that since I can’t destroy you, you could make more daywalkers even if I took out the entire race, so you promised not to make more, blah, blah. It’s a good argument. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.”

Azagoth cocked his head. “You said that so quickly. But how can you guarantee you won’t make more, if you’ve made your vampires during uncontrollable death rages?”

Thanatos closed his eyes, caught in Azagoth’s cleverly spun web. “I’ll manage. I’ll meditate, or travel with hellhounds who can bite me, or…” He opened his eyes and met Azagoth’s pitiless gaze. “Please.”

“Fool.” Azagoth snorted. “Haven’t you learned anything in your ancient life? There’s a price for everything. You create a life, you pay. Think back to when you first created a vampire.”

Than dredged the recesses of his brain, coming up with a lot of filth. But there was the one memory, the spark that had started it all. “I’d been cursed as a Horseman. I had fangs, and I was angry. I bit a guy, drained him. He came back as a daywalker.”

“Were you in a death rage?”

“No. Those hadn’t started yet—” Than sucked in a massive, painful breath. “They didn’t start until after I turned the first daywalker. They didn’t… holy shit. I’m the reason I go crazy sometimes?”

“How should I know? Do I look like a god?” Azagoth rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying you have to find the cost behind every action. Make a daywalker, go on murderous rampages. Whatever.” Azagoth shrugged. “I don’t give a shit either way. I just want your damned word, and I want you to keep it.”

“You got it,” Than breathed. Damn, all of his rages made sense now. They’d fed into each other in a cycle he didn’t know how to break. Make a vamp, which caused rages, which caused vamps, which caused rages … son of a bitch.

“Also, you should know that in the future, the emotions you would normally transfer into a tattoo will now transfer to Regan. She’ll feel your pain as much as you do.”

“What? No! You can’t do that—”