Son of Chaos Page 4

  “Yep, and the nondescript car went here.” He pointed to the purple dot. “We’ve already scouted the area, and it was just an old boarded-up gas station, but something disrupted the feeds. I want to find the common denominator to see if we can figure out where he took Eve.”

  “Careful, mate, or we might start to think you care about her,” Remy said, grinning.

  Tax ignored him, his light eyes on me. “I don’t like not being able to sense her ring.”

  Because it made him feel like a failure. I understood. “Use your other means to locate her, and send me the files on McDowell. I want to show his face to Ashmedai to see if it sparks any recognition.”

  Tax pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to me. “Already done, boss.”

  I smiled. “I knew you were useful.”

  “Yeah, you know, for digging bullets out of your skull, tracking down girlfriends, all sorts of things.” His lips quirked up at the side. “Have fun in Hell.”

  “Always.” I pocketed the phone and stepped toward Zebulon. “I assume you’re going to portal us to Ashmedai?” It was a newer ability of his—only a few decades old—that had certainly come in handy. I could technically transport myself, but it hurt. Having him take us was far easier.

  He held out a dark-skinned hand, palm up. “This list of favors is increasing, Xai.”

  “I’m sure you’ll enjoy exacting payment, Zebulon.” I grabbed his hand.

  His sinister chuckle followed us into the dark spiral, the only indication that he already knew what he wanted from me.

  And I wasn’t going to like it.

  5

  A Date in Hell without Evangeline Is Hell Indeed

  Chaotic energy flowed around us, invigorating my soul with every step as we made our way to Ashmedai’s tower. The sapphire hues of his realm gave my olive skin an unnaturally blue glow, making me thankful for this being a temporary visit. I much preferred black.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Zebulon asked as we ascended the stairs toward the front entrance. “She is my daughter.”

  “Feeling a parental responsibility?”

  Irritation flashed in Zebulon’s gaze, his lips flattened. Two could play the rhetorical game.

  I opened the door with a grin. “Ashmedai came to us with the assignment, and we wrongly assumed it would take a few days to wrap up. Calling you wasn’t really as high on our list as capturing Kalida so we could retrieve Trudy was.”

  “Tru,” a female voice corrected from above. “I’ve told you that about a dozen times now.”

  “She’s delightful, isn’t she?” Ashmedai stroked a hand down her hair as if petting a dog. Trudy caught his wrist and flipped it behind his back, pinning him to the balcony above—with his navy wings tucked between them.

  “Shit.” I vaulted the stairs as Ashmedai’s Guard surrounded them, but a dismissive laugh from the Archdemon had his army pausing midstep.

  “Pet me again, and I will kill you,” Trudy growled, lifting his wrist to an angle that should have caused pain, especially with the way it flattened his feathers. I’d only ever seen the Archdemon in his true form once before. He usually hid his wings when he ascended to Earth.

  “I might keep her,” Ashmedai said, grinning rather than grimacing. “She’s fantastic.”

  Trudy released him with a throaty grunt and took two steps back before crossing her slender arms over her leather vest. She glanced at the armed guards. “What? You want to try me next?”

  “You seem to be thriving,” I said, stopping by her side. Zebulon was still making his way upstairs, his expression bored.

  “Thanks to a morning regimen of Archdemon blood.” She narrowed her hazel eyes at Ashmedai. “Can I go now?”

  “Do you see Kalida?” he returned with an innocent glance around. “Because I don’t.”

  Those narrowed eyes turned to me. “It’s been five years, Xai.”

  I counted the Earth days and sighed. “Indeed. Ashmedai, I’m doing as you requested. Perhaps—”

  “I’ll save you the speech. No.” All signs of his playful energy disappeared behind the mask of a powerful being. “Now, why did you want a meeting?”

  Zebulon finally reached the top and kneeled at the feet of his superior. “My Prince,” he murmured, his head bowed in reverence. “Evangeline has been taken, presumably by Kalida and a male of unknown origins. We were wondering if you recognize him.”

  I retrieved the phone Tax had given me from my pocket and pulled up the image of Grant McDowell. Ashmedai took it, glanced at the screen, and shrugged. “Not familiar to me.”

  He started to hand it back, when Trudy snatched it from his grasp, her familiarity with the Archdemon evident. Ashmedai flashed her an amused look while everyone else held their breath waiting for a violent reaction.

  Interesting.

  “I know him,” she said, frowning. “He used to be part of the Dark Provenance.”

  My eyebrows rose. “He’s a Nephilim?”

  “That could potentially be related to the aura issue,” Zebulon replied, still kneeling. Until Ashmedai released him formally, he couldn’t move. The Archdemon’s keeping Zebulon there was a subtle way of saying he still held the Demonic Lord responsible for Kalida’s bad behavior. Demons had a long history of grudges and punishment.

  “Aura issue.” Trudy shifted her focus from the phone to Ashmedai. “How would a Nephilim help a demon hide her aura?”

  “Through a binding of souls,” Ashmedai mused. “It would allow him to flourish in Hell and her to hide her aura. Fascinating that I didn’t pick up on it before.”

  “But her aura returned when we captured her,” I said slowly. “Are you saying she could turn it on and off?”

  Ashmedai shrugged. “In theory. My blood has allowed Tru to flourish down here, as well as given her some other, unique talents.” He winked at her as she scowled. “But I’ve not tasted her myself to see if her aura concealment can be borrowed or not.”

  “Try,” she said, hands on her leather-clad hips. The whole getup was very warrior-like and rivaled Ashmedai’s attire as well.

  His lips twitched. “Careful, or I really will keep you, little angel.”

  I cleared my throat. “Your theory has merit, but the ring I gave Evangeline had an aura affixed to it that Tax can no longer sense.”

  “Then it seems your Nephilim may possess the power to shadow auras, which would make him related to Dariel, perhaps?”

  The Archangel of Concealment. “I doubt he would appreciate that accusation.” But I couldn’t argue with the logic behind it. I’d have to ask him about his last visit to Earth and if he bedded any humans while wandering about.

  “Right, I forgot. Your kind doesn’t consort with humans.” He stared pointedly at Trudy. “Nephilim exist by some other celestial magic.”

  “Right, so, Kalida is working with a Nephilim who may or may not have bonded to her and can conceal auras.” Which meant we were no closer to finding Evangeline than an hour ago. I tried again to link to her, to find some way to locate her, but her soul only faintly whispered back. A confirmation that she lived and nothing more.

  Come on, love. Fight for me.

  I nearly pulled away when a whispering thought drifted through the bond. I miss you.

  Everything froze, my entire focus on that wisp of her conscious. Where are you? I demanded.

  In Hell. Clearly. And imagining your voice.

  My heart skipped a beat at the dreamy quality of her mental voice, so unlike my warrior, my better half. If I wasn’t positive of our connection, I’d think it a trick, but I felt her soul brushing mine. My mate, my love, my life.

  Where in Hell?

  Too long of a silence passed before she whispered, I wish I knew… I wish I could escape…

  Heavens, she sounded broken, as if she’d already given up. I palmed the back of my neck, my eyes still closed, my focus on the female I existed to adore. Think, Evangeline. I need more.

  More what?

  De
tail, I growled mentally.

  Confusion drifted through our mental channel. Of what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.

  Evangeline, I snapped.

  Nothing.

  Fuck! The connection between us wavered, her soul leaving mine, wandering into the abyss of madness. What had Kalida done to her? If she was in Hell, that meant she’d been down here far longer than ever before. And if she hadn’t escaped yet…

  You’ve survived worse, I told her. But was it true? She’d never been in Hell longer than a few days, and who knew what Kalida was doing to her.

  If Evangeline hadn’t escaped yet…

  No. I refused to follow that thought.

  You’ll survive this, I promised her, because there was no other alternative. I needed Evangeline alive.

  I know… Her voice barely reached me, the connection closing without my permission.

  My hands fisted at my sides as the urge to punch something overwhelmed me. Just a week ago, we’d been happy. Alone. Minding our own fucking business. And all that had changed because of a fucking Archdemon. My eyes opened to find the source of my rage standing before me.

  He took a step back, but not fast enough to avoid my fist. His jaw snapped beneath the impact, sending a crack through the room and a jolt of shock to our peers.

  Electricity fired through my veins as his Royal Guard reacted, their psychic energy pounding me at full force. I fed on their chaos, winding it around my being as my wings ripped through my back, unleashing my Archangel bloodline and dominating the room.

  Fire singed the air.

  Trudy screamed.

  Demonic chants began.

  I welcomed the fight. Encouraged it. Craved it.

  The blue minions didn’t stand a chance.

  “Enough!” Ashmedai shouted, his command for his Royal Guard, not for me. “And, you, get up off the fucking floor.”

  Zebulon stood. “Thank you, My Prince.”

  “Evangeline is on this plane being tortured because you couldn’t keep a measly Succubus hostage,” I growled, stepping into the Archdemon’s personal space. “I agreed to this mission because the task amused me and I had hoped to watch Evangeline kill Kalida. I am no longer amused, Ashmedai.”

  He flared his navy wings and settled them against his back. “Noted, Xai.”

  We stared each other down. His violet eyes to my black ones. Power sizzled between us. Fury. Authority. An ancient understanding.

  “I was wrong before when I said you were similar to your father. You’re far more powerful and intriguing than Mietek.” Purple flames danced in his gaze as he weighed his options. It would be a fair match between us, even in his own realm.

  But I had something he lacked: determination. I wanted his blood in payment for what was being done to my mate.

  And he couldn’t fight that.

  “I’ll help you find Evangeline,” he finally conceded.

  “You will,” I agreed. “And when she drives a silver blade into your flesh, you will not retaliate.” She wouldn’t—couldn’t— kill him, but she would stab him. It was the least he deserved.

  He held my gaze for another beat, his lips twitching. “Accepted.” He held out his palm, a line of blood already drawn. It served as a raw show of strength—Ashmedai was a powerful telekinetic.

  That didn’t intimidate me.

  I held mine out to him and watched a similar path etch itself into my skin. We shook, blood to blood, vowing to uphold the deal.

  The tension in the room fizzled and died, my wings gently folding against my back, but not disappearing.

  A temporary truce.

  Trudy stepped to Ashmedai’s side, her hazel eyes wide as he draped a sapphire wing around her shoulders. “You’ve gone easy on us,” she whispered.

  I smirked—or tried to, anyway. She had no idea what I could do. Very few did. “Be sure to warn the others.”

  “Shall we get started trying to locate your mate?” Ashmedai asked, his voice bored. “Or do you want to punch me again?”

  “Did it hurt?” I asked.

  He blinked. “If I say yes, will that satisfy you?”

  “Temporarily.”

  “Then, yes. It did.”

  “Good. I hope Evangeline drives a blade through your heart.”

  His lips curled. “Then I suggest we find her so that you can regain your amusement of our situation.”

  Not likely to happen anytime soon, not after the way she sounded in my mind. But her stabbing the bastard who put her in this situation would be a good start.

  “Zebulon, can you summon Tax and Remy?” I worded it as a request out of respect, but I meant it as a demand. There was no point in the Tracker and the Portal Dweller searching on Earth with Evangeline trapped in Hell.

  “Already done,” he replied.

  “Excellent.” I held Ashmedai’s gaze. “I hope you have an idea of where to start.”

  Darkness glimmered in his violet eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do. Through that unique connection you just used to talk to her.”

  So you do read minds. I always suspected it, but his comment proved it.

  He merely shrugged. No comment necessary.

  6

  What Year Is It? I’ve Lost Track of Time…

  Voices floated around me, eliciting a pain deep within.

  I didn’t want to wake up.

  Didn’t want to endure another second of this madness.

  Blood.

  Bones.

  Flesh.

  I barely ate.

  Barely drank.

  Hell was not meant for my kind.

  Or were we on Earth again? Kalida kept moving me, healing me, shifting me back, destroying me.

  Xai… His name echoed in my heart.

  My link to his soul was my primary survival. Without him tethering me to life, I would succumb to the darkness.

  I thought I could outthink them, but nothing I tried worked. All my plans sank into an inky abyss, my mind fracturing beneath the torment.

  When was the last time I fought? Or tried? How many years have I been here? Trapped in this plane of agony?

  Come on, love. Fight for me. Xai’s whispered voice almost brought tears to my eyes. So real, and so very delusional. I envisioned him beside me, holding my shattered soul and mending it with his love.

  I miss you, I told him. Would I ever see him again?

  Where are you? Three fierce words that I wished were real.

  In Hell. Clearly. And imagining your voice.

  Where in Hell?

  I wish I knew… I wish I could escape… Was I even in Hell? The weight on my abdomen said yes. Sometimes it lifted. Those were the worst days. The ones where Kalida allowed me a glimpse of hope, a reminder of home, and ripped it away with a cruel laugh before sending me back to the underworld.

  Think, Evangeline. I need more.

  More what?

  Detail.

  I frowned. Of what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter.

  Everything I tried resulted in failure. Kalida had thought this through, had several millennia of plotting, as she so frequently boasted. I wanted to kill her. To shred her. To destroy her. But I couldn’t even lift my hand. I was broken again.

  The voices continued. In and out. Whispering. Yelling. Arguing. Laughing. At least three.

  You’ve survived worse, Xai whispered, his voice growing faint. You’ll survive this.

  I know…

  Or did I? I wasn’t quite sure.

  I yawned—or attempted to, anyway.

  Shades of black painted the world, reminding me of a bed of feathers I longed to rest on again.

  “I will break you, Eve.”

  My lips longed to twist into a smile at the frustration in Kalida’s tone. Months, years—decades?—of this endless array of torment, and she’d yet to crack my spirit. My body, however, was a different story entirely.

  Grant sighed. “She can’t hear you, babe. You worked her too hard.”

  Not quite, Dipshit. I can
hear you just fine.

  “I know,” Kalida growled back at him. “Take her back to Earth for a bit. I want her healed again. Faster. So I can break her again.”

  “Maybe we need a new method,” he suggested. “Something more mental, as opposed to physical. Or a combination of both.”

  I pictured him massaging her shoulders while she spoke, both of them relaxing near my mutilated form. They frequently thought me dead and unaware, something I used to my advantage, constantly seeking a weakness. But while I had perfected this state of death, they always sensed my healing. Or perhaps timed it appropriately. The second my limbs tingled, they would start again, rendering me defenseless in an instant.

  One of these times I would get it right. They would think me still incapacitated, and then I would pounce. I dreamed of that moment. Someday. Hopefully soon.

  “What did you have in mind?” Kalida asked, sounding drowsy.

  “Let’s chat about it over dinner, hmm? Richard will guard her while we’re gone.”

  Ugh, the Ghoul. I usually liked them. This one, not so much. Especially since he had a penchant for snacking—on me. He was near the top of my kill list. Right under Kalida and Grant.

  “All right,” Kalida said, the sound of a chair scraping in her wake. “Just one thing first.”

  A sharpness pierced my chest.

  Quick.

  Harsh.

  Agonizing.

  I will kill you, bi—

  Voices again.

  Louder now, two males talking about this week’s agenda.

  Grant and… maybe Derek?

  Didn’t matter.

  My ribs ached, hardly healed, not ready for another round.

  Don’t move, I told myself. Hide your healing. Let them think you’re still dead.

  A male grunt. Something about agreement and a new torment involving my body in unspeakable ways.

  No, my soul growled. Only Xai.

  But I needed a few more hours.

  Please. Not yet…

  Silence.

  What plane am I on?

  I ached everywhere, but that meant little to me now. Pain was my mistress, my confidant, my being.