When she stood to shaky legs, those chains pulled taut, cut deeper, preventing her from moving away.
There was a red film over her eyes, coloring her vision, painting everything she studied in crimson. Fitting, since she wanted everything in the room to be bathed with blood. Hers, Cronus's. She craved it. Dreamed of it. The velvet curtains, the flowers blooming from the walls, the polished wood and the alabaster statues of too-tall men with too many muscles...
...all dripping...
Enough! Must reach Paris, she thought. Or maybe the thought belonged to the demon. Wrath. The enemy inside her. The enemy she should despise but couldn't; just then, Wrath was her only link to vengeance. And salvation.
Paris will help. This time, she knew exactly who the words belonged to: the demon. Paris can guard you until you're strong enough to attack Cronus.
Maybe Paris would guard her. Maybe not. Moments before she'd died, she'd told him how much she hated him. And she had. Hated him. She was pretty sure she still did. Or didn't. God, she was so confused. The more the demon spoke about Paris, the more her dislike faded.
Paris will help.
'I heard you the first time,' she snapped.
Part of her—the human part—thought she might try to kill the warrior when she reached him. Part of her—the female part—thought she might kiss his beautiful face. Only thing she knew for sure was that she was going to find him, and she was going to use him, as Wrath had suggested. He, too, was possessed by a demon, and while he guarded her—if he would—he could teach her how to control this new, darker side of herself.
And once that happened...bye-bye Cronus.
Determined, urgent, she stepped forward again. Or tried to. Those damn chains yanked but held steady. Her body burned with rage, with hate, and the wings still growing between her shoulder blades flapped wildly.
Each emotion gave her strength. She jerked again. And again. Skin sliced open and vessels burst. The pain, the pain, the pain... Paris, her mind shouted, giving her strength...and finally, one of the chains cracked...
AMUN STUMBLED through the smoky cavern, William and Aeron holding him up and keeping him from kissing the bone-laden ground. They'd fought countless demon minions to get here, to this forgotten valley of death. They were as injured as he was. He shouldn't add to their burden, but he couldn't help himself.
Crunch, crunch. Sweat poured from him, draining him. His skin was sliced like a Christmas ham, but that wasn't the worst of his torment. Too many secrets...they were bombarding him, consuming him. Evil secrets, vile secrets. Thefts, rapes and murders. Oh, the murders.
The souls decaying in this underground prison had killed their brethren in the most heinous of ways, enjoying every bit of torture they inflicted. And now, the demons who lived here were enjoying every bit of the torture they inflicted. Retaliation, they found it so sweet.
The demons, at least, didn't keep secrets. They were happy to share the disgusting details of their lives. But Amun could also read their minds and knew their basest thoughts. He could feel their desire to steal, to rape and murder. Could see through their eyes as they did so.
Never had he felt so dirty, and he doubted he would ever be able to cleanse himself of this. Secrets loved it, though. Loved every moment of it. Was humming, soaking up each new revelation like chocolate through a straw.
'Nothing on Legion?' Aeron asked for the thousandth time.
He shook his head and winced at the ensuing ache.
'We can't keep roaming this place blind,' William said. 'We're each cut up and bleeding from our last go- round with those minions. They're small, but damn, they're wily. I thought I was going to lose my balls.'
Lucifer might be afraid of the warrior, but his servants were not. They'd attacked William as staunchly as they'd attacked Amun and Aeron.
'You're going to have to steal a demon's memories,' Aeron told Amun grimly. 'It's the only way. William's right for once. The longer we're here, the more we're forced to fight and the weaker we become.'
No, Amun thought, even as he nodded. He'd known it would come to this. He'd hoped otherwise, and had resisted for as long as he could. If things were bad now, they were going to be impossible after he stole a full set of demon memories. There would be no purging himself later.
They would be a part of him forever.
Why are you doing this again? he wondered. Because he loved Aeron. Wanted his friend happy and knew his friend couldn't be happy any other way.
And what of your happiness?
He ignored that question. He might talk himself out of what he was about to do, and couldn't allow himself to do such a thing. Find a demon, he signed. Bring it to me alive. The higher up the caste system it is, the better.
'You want a High Lord?' William asked, incredulous. A High Lord was what possessed each of the Lords. They were the most powerful of the demons and the most knowledgeable of what was happening down here, but there were only a few left within these depths. A few that hadn't tried to escape with the others. Like Secrets.
Amun nodded. If possible. They would also be the hardest to capture.
His friends led him to the shadowed mouth of the nearest cave and eased him down. Every muscle in his tired body sighed in relief, basically liquefying. He closed his eyes. Rest, he'd rest for a moment.
Someone patted his shoulder. Someone placed a gun in his hand. Then footsteps sounded. How long he sat there, weapon gradually slipping from his too-loose hold, he didn't know. All he knew was that the next time he opened his eyes, his friends were back.
Aeron and William stood before him, panting, barely managing to maintain their grip on a wildly bucking demon. The creature was as tall as they were, with green scales over portions of its body and a face composed only of bone. Several horns protruded from its spine and even its feet.
'Not a High Lord, but close enough,' Aeron gritted out. There was a new gash on his forehead and blood was seeping into his left eye.
'Do your thing,' William commanded. 'Before it's too late.'
Though it required every ounce of his strength, Amun managed to reach out and place his hands on the creature's skull. The bucking intensified. Frantic screams escaped. Twice, Amun's sweaty palms slid out of place, but he eventually made the mental connection and his hands were no longer needed.
Memory after memory flooded him. A lifetime of rage and pain and torture. All inflicted upon others. The creature was second in command to the High Lord Pain, Reyes's demon. Upon Pain's escape, this creature had taken over. And oh, had it enjoyed hurting others. In every way imaginable and even some Amun had never considered.
This one had even hurt Legion. And now her shrieks were trapped inside Amun, her terrified expression the only thing he could see. Gods, he wanted to vomit. And did vomit, the moment the connection was severed.
William and Aeron released their burden, and it collapsed to the ground, useless now, brain wiped clean.
A hand settled atop Amun's head and caressed down, stopping at the base of his neck and massaging. A comforting touch meant to soothe. Nothing could soothe him, however. Not ever again.
'Do you know where she is?' Aeron asked gently.
Amun nodded, tears burning his eyes. Those shrieks...the blood...too much...
The hand on his neck stilled. 'Where? Tell me, Amun. Please.'
Amun raised his gaze, ready to vomit again. She's given to a new demon every other day. She's beaten, tortured...and worse. In between those days, she returns to Lucifer, who entertains his minions with her screams. Today, she's with him. And he...he...he knows you're here. He plans to kill you in front of her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SCARLET DIDN'T move or speak as Gideon crawled up her body. He took his time, too, removing her boots, socks and pants along the way. She could have protested. She didn't. She needed this, she realized. Just once. A
