Larissa Ione - Immortal Rider

The demon’s nose, two black holes in his face, twitched. “We don’t know where he’s being held.”

Kynan threw aside the stang and gripped the demon’s throat in his bare hands. “Listen to me, you fucking Sleestak creep. You spill, or I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots and a belt. And then I’m going to hunt down every one of your family members and do the same thing. Got it?”

Decker casually lit a match and touched it to the end of a tiny capsule, a nasty little R-XR weapon that could be dropped on a demon, where it would immediately burn its way into flesh. The thing caused excruciating agony as it passed through the victim’s body, its white-hot shell cauterizing as it traveled, preventing a total bleed out.

Fear flickered in the demon’s yellow eyes. “I don’t know,” he said quickly. “Is the truth, slayer.”

“Rumors, then. I know you’ve heard rumors.”

“The… Iblis’s torturing grounds are in the Doom region of Sheoul,” the Sleestak said, using one of the many names for the big bad demon Christians called Satan. “But the human is said to have been handed over to experts.”

Arik’s torture had been contracted out? Fuckers. “And these experts are keeping the human where?”

“They have many chambers. All located near hell-mouths.”

“Which one should we focus on?”

The demon said nothing. Ky squeezed his throat, and Decker crouched on his heels, holding the capsule over the lizardman’s crotch. “Which. One.”

“Erta Ale,” it rasped. “The rumor is… Erta Ale.”

“Isn’t that an Ethiopian volcano?” Decker dropped the capsule on the floor and crushed it with his boot.

Ky nodded. “I’ll search it. I need you back at R-XR headquarters in D.C. You have to convince the R-XR to hurry up with the weapons they promised us.”

The R-XR and Aegis had been working on weapons that could deliver doses of hellhound saliva into the Horsemen—specifically, Pestilence. But Ky wouldn’t hesitate to use it on any Horseman who went bad.

“The R-XR is doing their best.” Defensiveness crept into Decker’s voice as he hacked off the lizardman’s head with a little more force than was required.

“The R-XR is doing what they do best, which is being overly cautious.” Kynan knew, because he’d been dragged into the secret Army unit, the Ranger-X Regiment, back when he was an Army medic who’d been attacked by a demon. The demon had nearly ripped out his throat, leaving him scarred and with a voice that made him sound like he was always chewing on gravel.

Decker’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “The R-XR is proceeding with necessar="2ith necy caution, and you know it. Someone has to balance out The Aegis’s tendency to act first and think later.”

Decker was right, but Kynan’s temper was on edge, just like the relationship between The Aegis and the R-XR. For years, they’d been allied, backing each other up in operations and sharing information, but when Pestilence’s Seal broke, the relationship went south. The military preached caution and was still trying to cover up the growing threat, while The Aegis went in weapons-hot and was of the belief that it was time humans were let in on the existence of demons and the coming Apocalypse. The difference in approaches had caused a rift between the two organizations, and as a member of both, Decker was straddling the gap.

Kynan often wondered if Decker regretted signing on as an Elder three weeks ago. It was an unheard of move, bringing an outsider into The Aegis’s top echelon, but they’d wanted to bring the military on board as fully as they could.

“I know that.” Kynan stood. “But they need to do more to help us find Arik.”

“I want Arik found as bad as you do.” Decker wiped his blade clean on a dead demon’s clothing, his movements jerky, edged with irritation. “But the military can’t put all its resources into it. They… we … are busy trying to head off Pestilence’s damned plagues and putting down the demonic outbreaks. So don’t give me any bullshit about how we’re sitting around and doing nothing.”

Ky eyed Decker as he considered taking this little disagreement to the next level, but screw it. Their teams might be rivals, but they played on the same field. They needed to save their blood for demon battles.

“Come on,” Ky said, slugging Deck in the shoulder. “Let’s get you back to DC.”

After that, it was off to see a Horseman about a volcano, and Ky had a feeling things were about to get hot. Sheoul hot.

“Want some water?”

Hell yeah, Arik wanted water. What kind of dumbass question was that? His throat was too raw and swollen to speak, so he merely nodded at Tavin, a blond Seminus demon Arik’s torturers had hired to heal him.

Tavin frowned, and gripped Arik’s shoulder with his right hand, which was marked all the way to his throat with tribal glyphs that all Seminus demons possessed. Apparently, they were a history of paternity, with the top symbol being personalized for each individual. Tavin’s seemed to be some kind of worm. He must take all kinds of shit from Sems who had cool symbols, like weapons or hourglasses or lightning bolts.

Sucked to be Tavin.

Sucked more to be Arik, though.

The demon channeled his healing gift into Arik’s body for the second time in the last ten minutes. The first time was to heal Arik’s broken ankles, his lacerated spleen, and the evisceration that had left his intestines hanging out of his navel.

Arik really fucking hated demons.

He’d been pretty solid on that point even before he’d been tortured to the brink of insanity, but the word “hate” wasn’t strong enough anymore. The English language needed a new word to describe how he felt about demons now.

Still, he supposed Tavin was okay for a demon. He wasn’t overly friendly, but he gave Arik more water than his captors ever did, and he always brought a new pair of scrub pants—black, as Arik requested—to replace the ones the demons destroyed during their torture sessions. Tavin had even presented an argument to his captors; the clothing protected Arik’s skin from infection that could kill him.

And, if Arik played his cards right, the pants would get him out of this hellhole.

Heat burned through Arik’s body, a byproduct of the Seminus healing ability, which allowed the demons to either repair injuries, affect bodily function, or tweak the mind. After a few seconds, Tavin’s energy had repaired damaged tissue and zapped Arik’s throat back into working order. It was still sore—hell, his entire body was sore—but at least now the pain was bearable.

“Thanks.” Arik rubbed his neck, mapping out the new scars. The demon had done an adequate job, and even the mental damage, the horrific memories, seemed to have faded. As always, after Tav was done with him, Arik felt whole again, not just physically, but mentally. “You’ve been patching my mind, haven’t you?”

Tavin’s expression was a whole lot of blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit. I should be a head case by now. Fuck, I’m so damaged after a torture session that I don’t even know my own name. But when you’re finished with me… I dunno. You’re doing something.” Arik narrowed his eyes. “And don’t lie to me. I fucking hate liars, and I kinda think you’re all right for a demon. Don’t disappoint me.”

There was a heartbeat of hesitation… two… three… and then the pathetic moan of some nearby creature seemed to break the lock on Tavin’s silence.

“Seminus demons have only one of the three abilities.” His brisk tone made it clear that the discussion was over as he handed Arik a clay cup containing a few tablespoons of muddy liquid. Tasted like piss and mold, which it probably was, but it was wet, and he’d learned to take everything he could get.