Son of Chaos Page 5

  Charred flesh filled my nose. From myself? Because we were in Hell? I didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  Did they say something about a new torture? Did it already happen? Nothing felt different, just my body mending itself. Kalida had done something to my ribs—I didn’t care to think about what, but it hurt like a son of a bitch.

  Yet, I could feel my toes. That meant another round would begin momentarily.

  I waited.

  And waited.

  Are those my fingers? Fascinating.

  More silence.

  More sensation.

  A clear breath slowly pulled into my lungs. Exited.

  Nothing.

  Was this the new torment? Allowing a glimmer of hope? Because I refused to accept it. After months—years—this was too far a deviation from routine. And I’d more than memorized the movement of my captors.

  Well played, I thought at them. But I see right through you.

  I refused to hope. It was a deceitful emotion. But if they wanted me to rest a little longer, I’d allow it. There were no restraints on my wrists or ankles. Maybe I could finally throw a punch. Even hitting Kalida once would be satisfying. Escaping would be better.

  If they keep allowing you to heal…

  No. I refused to consider it. That would allow hope to creep into my thoughts.

  I remained perfectly still as the nature of my birthright slowly crept to the surface. That part of me clearly hadn’t received the memo about not hoping, because now that I’d been left to heal beyond the norm, my assassin brain wanted to plot.

  Fine. I could entertain the notion briefly, just to pass the time since I was still alone and unable to move.

  I already cataloged the important factors about each of my opponents, their weaknesses and strengths, and general motives. However, the constant state of torture left me unable to act on any opportunities.

  Not being tortured now.

  True.

  Hmm.

  All that time under my father’s tutelage, all my experience on Earth—there had to be something to use. My ring, obviously, since my captors never removed it. Likely because it was gold, not silver, and they couldn’t sense the small silver syringe inside. It helped that Kalida liked the ring, said it reminded her of Xai and how devastated he would be when she finally returned me to him hideously scarred. Except, I kept healing. Oh, she hated the healing.

  I would have smiled if my lips worked.

  A shudder crept down my spine. I didn’t want to stay here any longer. I wanted to fight. But that required moving.

  Male whistling sounded from nearby.

  Fake it. Don’t let them know you’re awake.

  Because that’s worked so well in the past.

  Shh!

  I slowed my breathing, a trick I’d nearly mastered in the last however many months or years. Maybe even decades.

  Don’t think about that now. Focus. That voice sounded mysteriously like my father’s, no doubt a result of all the training indoctrinated into me as a child.

  “I don’t know, man, she still looks pretty dead to me.” The suave tone often spoke in my presence, but no one ever referred to the Portal Dweller by name. So I called him Sammy the Dead Man.

  “Yeah, Kalida did a number on her, but the bitch should be more coherent soon. Then the fun will start.” Grant’s familiar voice had me fantasizing the ways I intended to kill him. Always slow, with a lot of blood.

  One of them—likely Grant—ran a finger up my arm to my collarbone and down. “I have a Dargarian lined up for you first, Eve, darling. He paid good money. Something about you killing his brother.”

  If I did, he deserved it, I thought sweetly. And lined up for what?

  “How do you want me to do this?” Sammy the Dead Man asked. “Portal her after each fuck to vary her location?”

  Each fuck?

  “Yeah, I’ll message you the coordinates each hour. Just keep her moving and try not to let any of them actually kill her.”

  The Portal Dweller snorted. “I’m a transporter, not a bodyguard.”

  “Then I should probably play with her first,” Grant replied.

  It took all manner of thought and control to remain absolutely still as the finger circled my nipple, taking liberties with my mostly dead flesh.

  Is that what you’re into, Grant, you sick fuck?

  Newfound desire to shred him cascaded through my spirit, livening my insides. My fingers almost twitched with the desire to find a blade, the most movement I’d felt in… forever.

  I’m going to kill you all.

  His touch moved lower, stirring bile in my belly.

  I finally understood Kalida’s desire, the plan Grant had laid out for her. Defiling my body on a sexual level to torment my mind and heart. Forcing me to embrace another that wasn’t Xai. The worst kind of torture imaginable, especially for a mated angel.

  Don’t move, I told myself. Don’t react. You’re not ready.

  But I wanted to scream. To break the hand touching me in a place it didn’t belong. To shatter his fucking face with my fist.

  You should have never let me heal, I thought darkly. You should have kept me broken.

  Pure arrogance coupled with malice—they wanted me aware of it all, to be alive enough to remember. And that required healing.

  This is my chance.

  I felt it in every fiber of my being. Sammy the Dead Man planned to portal me around from conquest to conquest, confirming I was in Hell. That explained the nausea curdling my insides, the weakness I mistook for my body still healing.

  I can feel my limbs, can curl my fingers into fists.

  Not yet.

  No, not yet.

  My fractured thoughts should have concerned me; rather, they fueled my need for revenge.

  “Not much point when the bitch isn’t even awake,” Sammy the Dead Man helpfully pointed out.

  “You’re right.” Grant sighed, removing his hand—a hand I would be breaking today. “The Dargarian will be here soon. I’ll go grab some adrenaline from the surgical suite to help move her along.”

  I almost growled. How many times had Kalida shot me full of adrenaline before my body had finished healing just to rip me open again?

  I’m going to shove that damn needle into your heart.

  “Fucker,” Sammy the Dead Man muttered. He did that often after Grant disappeared, which usually made me grin inside. Not today.

  Move. Now.

  My fingers curled, forming fists. It hurt. It was slow. But my hand moved.

  I tensed my arms next. The atrophied muscle protested, shooting a spasm through my nerve endings. I did it again and again, needing to prepare myself. Subtle, small movements that the Portal Dweller would have noticed if he was paying attention.

  My legs were next.

  Running out of time.

  I know.

  Flex. Unflex. Flex.

  It’s now or never, Eve. He’ll be back any minute.

  I hated that voice, and adored her at the same time. My warrior soul finally coming to life and reminding me how to fight.

  My limbs shook with tension, ready.

  Time to breathe.

  I inhaled as softly as possible, filling my lungs and exhaling, allowing my heart to increase in rhythm. Death thrived in my spirit. Now I called upon her to take over, to make me whole, to give me this chance at survival.

  The Portal Dweller started whistling that creepy tune I heard in so many of my nightmares. He took me to Hell, to Earth, and back again. My soul reached for his aura, tasting all his bad deeds and malicious thoughts. It fueled my craving for justice in the manner of his death.

  He will die.

  Yes.

  Now.

  Yes.

  I thumbed my ring, pushing aside the stone as Xai once demonstrated. So easy. So perfect.

  It’s time.

  Yes.

  My eyes slid open, the dim lighting welcome against my unused pupils. When was the last time I saw anythin
g beyond my eyelids?

  I blinked once. Twice. Definitely in Hell. No question.

  My mark stood off to the side, still whistling, his focus on his phone. I debated warning him just to see the look in his eyes before I struck, but I didn’t want to risk him teleporting before my reflexes took over. My fingers flexed, my arm poised.

  Strike.

  I put all my effort into that single movement, the ring angled outward, and grunted as it struck his forearm. I’d been aiming for his neck but couldn’t quite make it.

  “Shit!” He jumped back, but it was too late.

  The syringe had punctured his skin, the silver streamlining into his bloodline. It might not be enough to kill him, but it would definitely render him useless.

  His knees gave out as he clutched his arm to his chest. “Bitch!”

  I tried to reply and couldn’t. Rather than try, I forced myself to sit up, knowing time was running thin. Maybe three or four minutes had passed since Grant had left. He would be back any second.

  Need to stand.

  I swallowed—or tried—and swiveled my legs off the hard mattress.

  Come on, Eve.

  This was going to hurt. A lot. Fortunately, Kalida had trained my pain tolerance to accept high levels of agony.

  Holding on to the bed as best I could, I slowly lowered my weight onto my feet and nearly fell from the difficulty. When was the last time I walked, or even stood? Didn’t matter. I could now. I had to master it. Had to get the hell out of here.

  My legs wobbled. I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to withstand it, willing my muscles to strengthen and accept my weight.

  Sammy the Dead Man stilled on the floor, his face pale, but still very much alive. Dead demons turned to ash. At least he wasn’t screaming.

  I pushed away from the bed, testing my limbs, and found myself steady. A glance at the Portal Dweller showed no useful weapons.

  Beyond him, a shiny array of knives caught my eye. Resting on the table was a set of freshly cleaned torture tools. Something for the Dargarian to use while he defiled my body, perhaps?

  The thought had me taking a sturdy step, followed by another, until I stood right beside the array of pretty toys. I rolled my shoulders, feeling stronger by the minute, and plucked a blade from the tray.

  Death rose to the surface, stretched her wings, and smiled.

  Let’s play.

  7

  Would You Like to Dance with Death?

  Grant was certainly taking his sweet-ass time. A quick survey of the room confirmed there weren’t any surveillance cameras in here, meaning he couldn’t know I had awoken.

  What are you up to, Nephilim?

  I twirled the blade between my fingers, pleased with the return of my dexterity. My muscles were twitching and protesting, my body sluggish, but adrenaline pumped wildly through my veins.

  Death called to me. She wanted to play.

  I tilted my head to the side, evaluating the ways I could assassinate Grant. It’d been a while since I killed someone. I welcomed him as my first victim.

  Another whirl of the knife, this time faster.

  The sound of footsteps had me pausing, my lips curling.

  “Sorry, Kalida wanted a full report. She’s at our next location playing with the bidders and—”

  The knife flew from my fingers, nailing Grant solidly in the heart and cutting off his words before he even finished entering the room.

  “Bull’s-eye,” I hissed, my throat dry and unused.

  The syringe slipped from his hand and landed with a satisfying clank against the concrete floor. Grant fell to his knees beside it, his eyes wide with shock at seeing me standing before him. As a Nephilim, he wouldn’t die from the wound alone. No, he required a far more brutal execution. But did I have time?

  He teetered over with a soft thud, his mouth forming unintelligible words. A beautiful scene, truly. And so much less gruesome than he deserved.

  In hindsight, I should have incapacitated him in a way that allowed him to speak because now I had no way of knowing how to get out of this literal hellhole. And of course, the Portal Dweller was useless to me as well.

  Good job, Eve.

  Better than being on that table.

  Touché.

  Well, there was no going back now. I picked up another knife and threw it unerringly into Grant’s skull right between his eyes—retribution for what was done to Xai—and smiled as the dipshit lay unconscious on the floor.

  I selected the three remaining scalpels and a shorter-looking instrument with sharp edges on either side and poked my head into the brown hallway.

  Vacant. Not surprising. Kalida and her minions had done a great job keeping me hidden from everyone outside their fucked-up operations. But if the Dargarian was meeting them here, then he had either an entrance point or a Portal Dweller escort. Either way, I would be using that means of escape.

  My legs cramped with every step, my stomach rioting at the wrongness of this plane. But I had to get the fuck out of here, to find a way to another part of Hell, to a realm with someone I knew.

  Xai.

  Ashmedai.

  Zebulon.

  Tax.

  Remy.

  I would even stand for Bael at the moment. Anyone.

  A door appeared at the end, but I knew better than to trust it. Hell loved its tricks. No, I needed a nondescript exit, something plain.

  All the low-hanging lights rivaled one another, not a flicker or a hint of anything out of alignment. The muddy walls—actual mud—were smooth and even. Dead grass lined the floor.

  Where are you?

  A few more steps, more studying of the lack of patterns on the walls and ceiling, nothing obvious.

  Come on, come on, come on.

  It had to be here somewhere. A misshapen blade of grass, perhaps, or… that weed. Clever. It was tucked into the ground, nearly hidden beneath the brown turf, but definitely there. I bent to brush my finger against it and gasped as I landed in a spiral of vines.

  Greenery wrapped around my skin, hugging me, twisting and turning, and suffocating me amongst the leaves.

  Shit.

  This was why I hated the underworld. All these damn mazes and puzzles, nothing ever as straightforward as just stepping outside.

  I sliced the scalpel against the rope of greenery, causing it to hiss and moan and release me into a patch of soil beneath a shroud of trees. Above it hung dual red suns, leaving me with no idea what realm I’d just fallen into.

  My eyes closed for a second, my body aching from all the exertion.

  Xai, I whispered, craving his chaotic energy. It hurts.

  Where are you? Always the same demand. One would think my imagination might gift me a new phrase every now and then, but of course, those three words were very him.

  Two red suns, I told him. I’m so tired.

  Hang on for me.

  I’m trying. God, those words hurt to think. He had no idea how much I was trying. Where was he? On Earth searching for me? In Hell? Did he know how much I was fighting to get back to him? Our relationship, while old, still felt remarkably young in so many ways.

  I escaped, Xai. I willed him to hear those words, to know I’d finally done something right. He would be so proud. My lips almost curled at the thought.

  You need to move.

  I know.

  No, I mean you need to move. Right now.

  In a minute. I just needed one more second’s rest. I yawned. They couldn’t find me here. Not quickly. I didn’t even know where here was.

  Evangeline!

  Love you…

  Maybe I would dream of him. Oh, that sounded blissful. A proper sleep. Some distant part of me cried out in warning, shouting words about moving, running, leaving this plane… But I rather liked it here. The heat. The scent of Earth. Mmm. It really was quite pleasant. The best I’d felt in a while, really.

  Dream with me.

  Oh, I liked the sound of that.

  Get up!


  Why? This bed felt far more inviting.

  What shall we dream about?

  About Xai.

  Don’t you do it! Wake. Up!

  Such chaos. Confusion. Alarm.

  My eyelids lifted drowsily, taking in my darkening surroundings. What happened to the trees and the suns? They were shrouded in thick clouds.

  I blinked awake, startled.

  The fuck?

  Everything around me was discolored in hues of blacks and browns, the air chilling to the coldest of nights.

  Moss encased my limbs, gluing me to the ground—a sinister shadow lurking overhead.

  My weapons were gone.

  My body trapped.

  My heart frozen in fear.

  From one nightmare to another.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  A tear tracked down my cheek, and something cruel laughed.

  I hated this plane. This existence. This world.

  “No,” I whispered. “Not like this.” Not after everything I’d just survived. To be trapped here, by this thing, in Hell’s playground… It wasn’t fair. But of course Fate would fuck me like this. She was such a damn bitch!

  I pushed as hard as I could against the restraints, but they didn’t budge. Didn’t even crack.

  That shadow loomed heavier now. Suffocating me inch by inch. So cold. So very, very cold.

  Don’t sleep. Xai’s voice again. Don’t you fucking sleep.

  I didn’t feel drowsy or exhausted so much as defeated. After everything… Oh, hell, I didn’t even have the energy to consider it.

  None of it mattered.

  Not anymore.

  I love you, Xai. I had no idea if he could hear me, but I hoped he could, hoped for once this connection was real. I fucking love you.

  Don’t you dare say your goodbyes, Evangeline. Hang on for me.

  Tears gathered in my eyes, my lungs fighting for air. I couldn’t move, could hardly breathe… I’m trapped, Xai.

  I’m coming.

  I wish that were true. But it was a nice thought anyway. My mind’s way of soothing me one final time. I’m so sorry, Xai. So sorry for all the time we wasted. I love you.

  Stop. If you give up on me, I will kill you myself.

  I nearly laughed. How very Xai to threaten me now, in my final moments. I picture you perfectly.