3 Lethal Rider-Lords Of Deliverance (50 page)

“You’re wrong, Reaper,” Thanatos said. “She’s special in every way.”

Thanatos couldn’t stop grinning as he gated himself, Regan, and Idess back to his keep. “I can’t thank you enough, Idess. If you ever need anything, come to me, and it’s yours.”

“I might take you up on that someday,” she said. “Now, are we going in? I’d like to meet your son.”

Regan took his hand and practically dragged him through the front door. Inside, everyone who had come for the birth was still there. A pall hung over them, the sadness in the air so thick Than could eat it with a spoon.

“Yo,” he called out. “Someone want to bring my son to his mother?”

Stunned expressions quickly veered to ecstatic ones, and suddenly Thanatos and Regan were surrounded. There were hugs and laughs, and someone passed Regan a robe. Than eased out of the crowd to allow her some time with Kynan and Decker, but he did watch when Cara brought the baby over and handed him to Regan.

And then the woman who swore she wasn’t mother material gathered the infant in her arms and broke into tears and smiles.

“Congratulations.” The rumbling, unfamiliar voice came from the male who had stepped beside Thanatos while he’d been watching Regan.

He turned to the vampire he’d seen at Underworld General. The guy was almost tall enough to meet Than’s gaze levelly. Black hair fell in a thick curtain to his waist, and the cruel twist to his mouth would make anyone think twice about giving him shit about it. Anyone but Than.

“If you’re here to cause trouble, daywalker, know that I’ll take you out as easily as I made you.”

“A year ago,” he said slowly, “there’d have been trouble.”

Thanatos glanced over at Regan and warmed at the way she was holding their son like she’d been cuddling babies for years. “What changed?”

“Me.” He held out his hand, which seemed so … odd … given that Than had, at one point, taken his blood, almost certainly against his will. “I’m Vladlena’s mate. Nathan.”

Than’s body stilled as a hazy memory surfaced from … two centuries ago? “The alleyway …”

Than had been fighting a demon, and in a fog of bloodlust, he’d seen the man watching in horror, and he’d attacked.

“Yup. I saw you at Underworld General last year, and recognized you as my sire.”

“So you
do
work there? Eidolon lied to me?”

Nathan shook his head. “Nah. I don’t work there. I only go to the hospital to see Lena. If Eidolon didn’t tell you he knew me, it’s because I’ve asked everyone who knows
what I am to keep my secret. I learned early on that night-crawlers seem to hate daywalkers.”

“And vice versa,” Than said wryly, noting the vampire’s use of the term “nightcrawlers.”

One thick shoulder lifted in a casual shrug. “I was at the hospital as a patient the first time I saw you, and when Lena told me you were a Horseman, I thought I was mistaken about who you were.” His gaze pierced Than right in his guilty conscience. “Then I saw you again a few days ago when I was bringing Lena lunch, and there was no doubt.”

Well, wasn’t this awkward. Than had a lot of daywalkers to find and apologize to. Oh, he’d kill the ones who had planned to side with Pestilence and kill his son, but he did want to start fresh with the others. They no longer had to fear that he’d either kill them or force them into servitude.

He cleared his throat, but it didn’t scour away his contrition. “I’m sorry for what I did.”

“I hated you for a long time,” the vampire admitted. “But now I just want to offer my thanks. I’ve been blessed more than I can say.”

Thanatos turned back to Regan, who was his until his Biblical Seal broke, which he prayed wouldn’t happen for a long, long time. “Me too, Nathan. Me too.”

Reaver could get in some serious trouble for what he was about to do. Hell, he could get into trouble just for being here.

Here
was Sheoul-gra, the holding tank for demon and evil human souls. Here was a dark, steamy cavern where
the occupants were as solid as stone, as cruel as a socio-pathic teenage boy, and no one was happy.

“Angel.”

Ignoring the hisses and insults slung at him by the surrounding demons, Reaver strode up to the speaker, who stood on a basalt platform, the whip in his hand dripping blood. “Hades.”

Hades cocked a black eyebrow. “Whose dick did you suck to get permission to come here? Azagoth isn’t one for the gay shit. I’ve tried.”

There really was nothing worse than a fallen angel when it came to crudeness. But yeah, Reaver had been forced to go to Azagoth to gain entry. What price the Reaper would extract was yet to be determined.

“It doesn’t matter how I got here. I don’t suppose you have a new resident named Gethel.”

“Is she hot?” At Reaver’s flat stare, Hades rolled his eyes. “Fine. No Gethel.”

Damn. Then she was still alive. And who knew what trouble she could wreak in the human realm by the time Reaver got back.

“Next question. Where’s Reseph?”

“Reseph?” Hades’s eyes went flat and cold as a blade left in the snow. “His body is in the cavern behind me. His mind… I don’t know where that is.”

Reaver started for the cave entrance, a gaping maw of dripping teeth streaked with blood. A malevolent growl brought Reaver to a halt. “Tell it to let me pass, Hades.”

Hades appeared at Reaver’s side. “Getting in isn’t the problem, angel. It’s getting out that’ll be the trick.”

“Why are you keeping Reseph in there?”

“Maximum pain. Azagoth’s orders. You’ll understand
when you see him. He’s not a soul like those you see around you. He can’t be reborn. He’s as he always was. Minus the sanity.”

“So good news tempered by bad news.”

“Isn’t that the way it always is?”

“Yes, Fallen, it is.” Reaver stepped inside the cave, and was instantly enveloped in the fetid scent of rot. He picked his way around half-eaten corpses … that weren’t really dead. In Sheoul-gra, nothing died. Beings suffered until—and if—they were reborn in another body. Clearly, the creatures in here couldn’t get out and were being slowly digested.

He kept walking, the moans of the victims rising up from the squishy, gore-soaked ground. Ahead, screams pierced the air, and the hairs on the back of Reaver’s neck prickled. Kicking himself into a jog, he no longer tried to avoid the writhing bodies beneath him. His boots crunched on their ribs, limbs, skulls.

Ahead, Reseph was in trouble.

When he finally saw the Horseman, he realized that
trouble
was not the word he should have used.

Reseph was crouched on the ground in a pool of what was probably his own blood, holding his head and screaming. One eye was gone, and it became clear that Reseph himself had clawed it out. Another scream burst from the Horseman’s mouth, and he threw himself backward into a rock wall so hard that blood sprayed and Reaver heard bones break.

“
Blood…so much blood…claws, paws, heads… fucked…I fucked them…tears, screams, oh, fuck… the pain…
” Reseph’s babbling was punctuated by more screams, more throws against the wall, and more clawing of his own body.

“Reseph.” Reaver’s voice was barely a whisper, and choked with emotion. He’d hated Pestilence, had wondered how he’d feel to see Reseph again, and now he knew. This…hurt. “
Reseph
.”

Panting, Reseph turned his eye on Reaver. Confusion flashed in the bloodshot depths, and then horror. Reseph wheeled backward in a scramble, skittering along the wall to get away.

“No,” he rasped. “No. Snapping bones and torn guts …”

Reaver lunged, taking the Horseman by the shoulders and forcing him to still. “Hey. Stop. It’s me, Reaver.”

“No… no. I—” Reseph jerked backward, trying to get away, but Reaver gripped harder. “I hurt you. I hurt… so many.”

“It wasn’t you, Reseph. It was Pestilence.”

Reseph grabbed his head and threw himself in spastic lurches toward the wall. “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

The things the Horseman must be seeing, the memories he must be reliving… Reaver could only imagine. It had been bad enough to
see
what Pestilence had done, but to know you’d been the one to do it must be beyond anything a decent person could handle. And Reseph had been decent. A partying playboy with questionable morals, but he hadn’t been cruel. The things he’d done as Pestilence had gone well beyond cruel and into downright twisted, sick, and evil on a scale never before seen.

Reaver engulfed Reseph in his arms, using his entire body to ease the Horseman’s struggles. It was like trying to hug a rodeo bull.

“Destroy me,” Reseph moaned. “End me.”

Reaver’s heart cracked wide open. “I can’t.” Reaver
couldn’t heal him, couldn’t lessen any of the pain. But there
was
something he could do.

Reaver tugged Reseph to his feet and slammed his palm into his forehead. “Good-bye,” he whispered. “Be happy.”

In a flash of silver light, Reseph was gone. May the human realm welcome him like a newborn.

It had taken every ounce of Reaver’s power to do what he’d just done, and now, drained, he sank to his knees, head bowed, his breath sawing painfully in and out of his lungs. Azagoth had allowed Reaver to keep his power when he entered Sheoul-gra, but now Reaver was empty, and there was no way to refuel down here. He was a sitting duck for any demon who came along.

Whatever happened to him, it would likely be nothing compared to what he was in for when his huge violation of Watcher rules was discovered. Although really, there were a lot of loopholes in the rules regarding a Horseman who had been sent to Sheoul-gra.

“What in blazing hells have you done?” Hades’s voice rumbled through the cavern. Didn’t that just figure. “Where’s Reseph?”

“I destroyed him,” Reaver croaked.

It was a lie, but the truth wasn’t an option. For anyone. And no one could know that Thanatos had used the wrong dagger to kill Pestilence.

Ironic, wasn’t it, that Thanatos had been searching for a way to repair Reseph’s Seal for so long, and in the end he’d found it without even knowing it.

Deliverance to repair, Wormwood to kill.

“Huh.” Hades squatted down in front of Reaver. “I don’t believe you. Either way, Azagoth is going to have
you for dinner. He had a serious bug up his ass about seeing Reseph suffer.” He eyed Reaver like he was sizing him up for that dinner… which turned out to be the case. “Buffalo angel wings. Yum.” He jammed a finger into Reaver’s chest and knocked him over. “And it looks like someone’s all out of Heavenly juice. Do you know how much trouble you’re in right now?”

“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question,” Reaver said, as he pushed himself up to sit against the wall Reseph had used to tenderize himself.

“Little bit,” Hades agreed.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to get me out of here.”

Hades ran his hand over his tight blue mohawk. “Out of the cave? It might be better to stay in here. If you go out, you’ll be at the mercy of hundreds of thousands of demons and evil humans who would love to take turns torturing the fuck out of you. Literally.” He paused. “On the other hand, if you stay in here, you’re in for an eternity of being slowly digested. Very painful.”

“Out of Sheoul-gra, you idiot,” Reaver gritted out.