Rogue Rider

At the living room door, Pestilence, that bastard, halted. Very slowly he turned to Jillian, and Reseph felt Pestilence’s twisted lust heat his groin.

The parking lot incident flashed through Reseph’s head—Jillian’s screams, her terror, Pestilence’s sick anticipation. The things he had planned to do to her after the Soulshredders were done…

“No!” Reseph lurched toward her, but someone shoved him outside the house, and Pestilence took over, laughing his fucking ass off.

They cut a swath through the army of demons, kicking at the ones who didn’t bow deeply enough and beheading the ones who didn’t bow at all.

Lucifer, standing atop the shallow rise at the rear of the army, grinned as they approached. “Back for more? Or are you here to surrender?”

“Neither.” The voice coming from Reseph’s mouth was smoky and harsh, singing with power, and Lucifer’s expression fell.

“Pestilence.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “What trick is this? I feel power around you.”

“Trick?” Pestilence’s and Reseph’s speech and thoughts were in perfect sync, and for the first time, Reseph realized how intertwined they really were. “We’re here to bleed you dry, you prick.”

Lucifer didn’t hesitate. He shed his human skin and morphed into a massive, veiny beast, its wingspan nearing thirty feet, its horns jutting out of its skull like the world’s largest bull. With a lightning-quick wave of his clawed hand, a bolt of lava-hot electricity shot through Reseph’s armor. Pain ripped through him, but it was dull, as if divided between Pestilence and him.

“You silly fuck.” Again, Reseph and Pestilence were in sync. “We have the power of Heaven behind us, as well as the power of hell.” He cocked his head at Lucifer. “You die now.”

Reseph launched at Lucifer, punching through one of the demon’s leathery wings, crushing bones, shredding skin. Lucifer roared in fury, raking his serrated claws across Reseph’s face and flaying open his cheek. He healed almost instantly, which was super cool.

The pendants around his neck vibrated and began to glow bright enough to cast light deep into the forest beyond. Lucifer’s gaze dropped to the stones, and with a hiss, he stumbled backward.

“Heofon.” Lucifer’s voice quivered, and Pestilence nearly came at the fear and envy mingling in Lucifer’s words. “Give it to me.”

“As if.” Reseph snorted. “Do you think we can deal now?”

Pestilence laughed, aware that Reseph was fucking with the demon.

“Heofon for the lives of your families,” Lucifer said.

“I have a better idea.” Pestilence thrust his sword through Lucifer’s abdomen. “Your death for a gate between Heaven and Sheoul.”

No! Reseph screamed, helpless to stop Pestilence. Blood splashed onto the amulets and sudden power sang through Reseph like a tuning fork, the rush of unlimited strength filling his body. It was like a drug… a damned-near orgasmic drug that stroked every one of Reseph’s pleasure centers. Not just stroked them, but sucked them off and swallowed.

Ah… damn… so… good.

Pestilence rose up, taking full control. As if in a fog—a fog of euphoria—Reseph watched his sword hack apart Lucifer. The fallen angel wasn’t going to die from blows alone… hell, nothing Pestilence could do would actually kill Lucifer.

But Pestilence wouldn’t have to.

The very air surrounding them warped, turning everything outside their bubble of normalcy into contorted reflections from funhouse mirrors. A churning wind spun up, swirling around them like a tornado. It shot upward, piercing the sky and stretching toward the heavens. Beneath their feet, the ground fell away, leaving them hovering over a black hole that plunged straight into hell.

The gate. Holy fuck, the gate!

Lucifer screamed as the whirling tornado snatched him, bit by bit, pulling him apart and sucking pieces of his body into the maelstrom. Red streaks discolored the translucent vortex as his blood spun higher and higher.

The last chunk of Lucifer, a section of his skull, disappeared into the wind. It would be only minutes until the gate was fully opened, and hordes from hell could swarm into Heaven.

“Stop!” Reseph clawed at Pestilence, hammered at his mind, but it was like trying to wake from a nightmare. This was a repeat of being helpless as Pestilence committed atrocities for an entire year. He couldn’t go through that again. The difference was that during the year Pestilence had been at the helm Reseph hadn’t been this close to the surface. Reseph also hadn’t believed he had so much to fight for.

Now he did. He had brothers and a sister, in-laws, a nephew, and another niece or nephew on the way. A father. A mate—if Jillian would have him, anyway. He couldn’t lose any of those people.

If he could just… force… Pestilence—

“Reseph!”

Jillian?

In excruciatingly slow motion, Reseph turned around. Jillian stood outside the vortex, her hair blowing wildly, her eyes shot wide with terror. And yet, she stood strong, a warrior facing almost certain death.

Pestilence smiled. “We’re going to kill you, human whore.”

Shut up!

Pestilence didn’t listen. “Your screams will be the theme music for the demon march to Heaven.”

Jillian held out her hand. “Take me then. Finish what you started.”

Jillian, no!

Reseph watched in horror as Pestilence reached out and yanked Jillian into the vortex.

* * *

Jillian had thought she was prepared to do this. To face down the thing that terrified her the most in hopes of helping Reseph fight to defeat Pestilence.

But as Pestilence tugged her against him, his cold grin sending shivers down her spine, she knew she was in way over her head.

“Reseph,” she cried, “I know you’re in there.”

“Oh, he’s in here.” Pestilence twined her hair in his fist and yanked her head back, nearly snapping her neck. “And he doesn’t care what I do to you.”

Reaver had warned her that Pestilence would lie to her, try to hurt her any way he could, and clearly, the angel had been right. She hadn’t needed the warning though; she knew Reseph too well.

“Fight, Reseph—”

Pestilence jerked her head viciously to the side, exposing her throat, and then he exposed her chest when he tore open her shirt.

“We’re going to have some fun, Jillian.”

“Reseph!”

A godawful roar erupted from Pestilence, and the evil glow in his eyes dimmed. Reseph. It was Reseph!

“Baby,” he croaked. “Get out… get… out.” He shoved her, but she hooked her leg around his and clung to his arm with all her strength. Awkwardly, she reached up and swept her fingers over his armor scar the way Limos had told her to do.

In less time than it took for Sam to stomp his big foot, Reseph’s armor disappeared, and he looked down, confused. He seemed to be a mix of Reseph and Pestilence now, as if they were sharing equal power. She took advantage, snatching Wormwood from the waistband of her jeans and bringing it up to Reseph’s chest.

She’d sworn to Reseph’s siblings that she’d destroy Pestilence if she had to, but dammit, she knew it wouldn’t come to that. She had faith that Reseph would beat that bastard himself.

“Bitch!” Pestilence hissed. Bitterly cold breath stung her cheeks as he leaned in. “I’m going to flay you—” His head snapped to the side as if he’d been struck.

Reseph broke through, wrapping his hand around Jillian’s. “Do it,” he croaked. “Please.” Jillian struggled, but she was no match for his strength as he pressed in, and the tip of the blade penetrated his skin.

Reseph’s expression contorted, his eyes alternating between glowing malevolence and the intense cleverness that always glittered in Reseph’s gaze. The internal battle raged, and even though Jillian was plastered to his body, she was somehow in the middle of the struggle, sometimes her grip on the dagger being peeled away, and