Very carefully, he set down the bottle. “This is real, isn’t it,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

He bowed his head, and his entire body began to tremble so hard the chair rattled on the floor. “How? How did I get out?”

“You escaped.” She wanted to go to him, to hug him tight, but he was in a fragile place right now, and she didn’t want to do anything that might send him fleeing back into his mental nightmare. “Kynan and I found you at the Erta Ale hellmouth.”

He looked up, and she was relieved to see that there was no suspicion in his expression. “How did you know to look there?”

She grinned. “Kynan interrogated some bookies, and I tortured one of your torturers.”

“Nice.” One corner of his mouth tipped up, and wow, it was great to see him smile.

She gave him a sly wink in return, becoming aware of an exhilarating buzz, a sensation inside her that rivaled what she experienced when she told a lie. Was this what people in love called butterflies?

Not that she was in love. As much as she liked to dream about having a normal, happy relationship, it just wasn’t in the cards for her.

“It was good times all around.” She gestured to his empty plate. “Want another?”

He shook his head. “I’m not used to eating much anymore. I’m pretty full.” He gazed out the window, but where he went, she couldn’t follow. “Who all knows I’m here?” His head swiveled around to her. “My sister must be going crazy—”

“No.” Her fingers tightened around the sweating beer bottle. “Eidolon and Shade came here to heal you, so your sister knows you’re okay. Kynan too.”

“So Kynan really did get those clothes for me?”

“Yes.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck. Everything is so jumbled up.”

She reached for him. “Arik—”

He leaped out of the chair. “I need a minute, okay? Give me a minute alone.” He took off, weaving almost drunkenly toward the bedroom.

It wasn’t until she heard the crash that she knew something was terribly wrong.

Thirteen

Pestilence had upped his game, and his chessboard was made of human flesh, his chess pieces crafted from bone.

Thanatos and Ares had been compelled by violence and death to gate themselves to New Zealand, their brother’s newest playground. The plague of flesh-eating locusts had turned much of the country into a wasteland, and when New Zealand defense forces had gone in to try to contain the crow-sized insects, they’d been attacked by demons—demons who had, until now, been confined to Sheoul.

As Than and Ares slogged through gore and fought battle after battle, they’d made a disturbing discovery: Pestilence had saturated the southern half of New Zealand with so much blood, evil, and destruction that he’d been able to claim it in the name of Sheoul. It was now demon territory, and a major victory on Pestilence’s game board.

His next move, which Than had discovered when ~

Pestilence had unleashed an unthinkable plague, one that was turning humans into honest-to-f**k zombies. Thanatos liked The Walking Dead as much as anyone, but the real thing was nothing like fiction. This plague was Reseph’s sense of humor turned twisted in the being who was now Pestilence, and no doubt, the evil son of a bitch was having a good laugh.

Thanatos cursed and slammed his fist into the punching bag in his gym, where he was desperately trying to work off the residual high that coked-out his body when he was immersed in a lot of death. He needed to level out, needed to regain his ability to concentrate, because after leaving Australia, he’d unearthed information that might prove to be a huge break in his quest to repair Reseph’s Seal. But if he couldn’t get out of this killing mood, he wouldn’t be able to follow up on that lead with a clear head.

Atrius, one of his daywalker vamps, interrupted him with a soft tap on the doorframe. “Master, you have a visitor.”

Than pulled his last punch. “Could you be more specific?”

“It’s an Aegi.”

Kynan, then. “Let him in.”

“Ah… it’s not a him. It’s a her.”

Than wheeled around. “Did you verify that she’s a Guardian?” Pestilence had been sending succubi on a regular basis to tempt him—there was, in fact, one of said succubi chained na**d in the great room, awaiting his interrogation. He definitely wouldn’t put it past his brother to resort to trying to trick Than into believing a succubus was an Aegis slayer.

“Of course. She wears the Aegis symbol on a ring, and she gave me this to present to you.” Atrius held out a cell phone.

Thanatos took it, cycled to the address book, and sure enough, the name Dean Winchester was listed among the hundreds of other names in the book. Right after Arik had been taken, The Aegis and Horsemen had come up with a way, a code of sorts, to ensure that no false Aegi could ever again gain entrance into a Horsemen stronghold or trick them as one had when he’d walked into Ares’s house and handed him a poisoned weapon.

The Dean Winchester thing had been Limos’s idea. She loved her supernatural TV shows.

Than snatched a towel off the treadmill bar. “Show her in.”

He wiped the sweat off his brow and face, then drained a bottle of water. As he lobbed the empty vessel into the garbage, a woman entered. And… damn. The Guardian was striking, made even more beautiful by what others might consider flaws. Long, thick lashes framed nondescript hazel eyes that were a little too far apart, and her slightly crooked nose had clearly been broken at least once. A scar puckered the bronze skin at her temple and again at her chin.

But her injuries only made her that much more attractive to Than, who could appreciate a woman who had survived combat.

She wore a crimson turtleneck that molded tightly over full br**sts and emphasized a slim waist. An embroidered candy cane sat above her left breast, reminding him that for the humans who celebrated it, it was Christmas time. Low-slung jeans hugged wide h*ps and slim thighs, and on her feet were leather boots that came up to mid-calf and that no doubt concealed a handful of weapons.

“You done checking me out?” she asked in a husky, smoky voice, and he took his time dragging his gaze up.

“Not checking you out,” he drawled. “Sizing you up.”

“For?”

“A hole in the ground.” He stalked toward her, but she didn’t give way. Nice. “It was stupid to come to me unannounced, slayer.”

“I tried tweeting you, but looks like you Horsemen-types are afraid of social media.”

Funny. A comedian Guardian had come to visit. “What do you want?”

“What? They didn’t teach manners in your day? I don’t get tea or anything? Maybe you want to chain me up like the na**d chick in the other room?” She licked her lips, which he just noticed were full, maybe too full, and his erotic imagination took off. And since imagination was all he had when it came to all things erotic, he could spin out some amazing fantasies.

“Answer me,” he barked, and she didn’t even jump. Impressive.

“Can we talk somewhere else? Maybe after you put some clothes on?”

He grinned. “Does my bare chest tempt you?”

“Hardly. But your tattoos are distracting.”

He got told that a lot. Probably because many of them were depictions of death and destruction, scenes taken right out of his head by a demon tattoo artist. Her talent allowed her to layer the tattoos so older ink wasn’t obliterated by new, creating a 3-D effect people often found disconcerting.

Thanatos called for Atrius, who appeared immediately. “Take her to the great hall. Put the succubus in my bedroom and give the Guardian tea. I’ll be right there.”

Atrius took the female, and though Than shouldn’t have looked… he did. He watched the sway of her perfect ass as she walked away, and then he had to wait for his erection to subside and his fangs to stop throbbing to join her. He really didn’t give a hellrat’s ass if she got an eyeful of boner, but he’d kept his canines under wraps since the day they’d dropped and demanded blood.

He considered showering, but f**k it. She’d interrupted his workout, so she could put up with his sweaty, smelly self. He did throw on a sweatshirt, though.

She was waiting for him by the fire, hands behind her back as she studied the portrait over the mantel. “You like looking at yourself, huh?”

That voice. Damn, he could listen to that voice all day. “It was a gift,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

His vampires had commissioned the painting a couple of hundred years ago, and he hadn’t wanted to insult them by not displaying it. Granted, he’d originally placed it someplace a lot less noticeable, but someone kept moving it here. It had become something of a game now, and every couple of years, he’d move it and see how long it would take them to notice it was gone, find it, and return it.

She turned to him just as Atrius arrived with a pot of tea and a single cup and set them on the narrow oak table against the back of the couch. “I was kidding about the tea,” she said, but she poured it anyway.

“I didn’t want you to think I’m a terrible host. Now, tell me why you’re here.”

As if he hadn’t spoken, she blew across the steamy surface of her tea. “Mm. Smells good.”

Of course it did. He only bought the best. “Where is Kynan?”

“Dunno.” She regarded him over the rim of her cup. “It’s not my day to watch him.”

Infuriating human. “Why isn’t he here? We’ve been dealing with him.”

“You’ve been dealing with him because he’s the only one of us who can travel through Harrowgates. He’s the one who brought me here, actually. And can I just state for the record that I hate being knocked out for the journey? Gave me one hell of a headache.”

“I’m not going to ask you again. Why are you here?”