Gena Showalter - The Darkest Torment

He continued to hold the glass without drinking. Don’t stare. Shouldn’t appear too eager.

“I know you’re not a literal monster,” she said. Had she put a tad too much emphasis on the word?

“So you think we’re...what?” he asked. “Delusional?”

No reason to lie. “Yes. But what do you think you are?”

“Immortal.”

She barked out a laugh. “Like vampires? Werewolves?” The current movie fad.

“If I were a bloodsucker, you would already be drained. If I were a wolf, you would be chained to my bed and used as a pack whore. A kurva jebat’, you’d call it.”

There wasn’t an ounce of amusement in his tone, and she sobered, realizing he truly believed what he was saying—believed creatures of the night existed.

“I’ll tell no one,” she said, raising her right hand. In fiction, otherworldly predators liked to keep their origins a secret, often killing the ones who discovered the truth. “You have my word.”

“Tell whoever you’d like. You’ll be labeled crazy. Insane.” He shrugged and at long last drained the glass.

Relief bathed her, cool and sweet. She waited, watching him closely for any sign of sedation, but nothing changed.

Rule eight: distract when necessary. “Convince me. Tell me about your life.”

“Again, why should I bother?”

“Because I’d really love to hear your story?”

“That’s insufficient enticement.”

“So...what do you want?”

His gaze heated. He inhaled sharply, as if he wasn’t pleased with the direction of his thoughts. Or maybe he was a little too pleased. His pants suddenly looked tighter.

The moisture in her mouth dried. She pressed her hands together, forming a steeple. “Just tell me. Pretty please. Please!”

The plea...actually softened his expression. “For centuries I lived in Mount Olympus, a guard to Zeus. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Everyone has. My friends and I were vastly offended when he gave his greatest treasure, dimOuniak, to a female to guard. You know this treasure as Pandora’s box. To punish Zeus, we stole it, opened it and unleashed the demons trapped inside it.”

Wait, wait, wait. “Demons?”

A curt nod. “He decided to punish us and cursed us to host a demon inside our bodies. I was given Distrust, though I was liberated from him the day I was beheaded.”

She snorted. “Beheaded? And yet, here you are, alive and well.”

“Alive, yes. Well, no. No one, immortal or human, is merely a body. We have spirits and as you can see, my spirit is still very much intact.”

“You’re saying you’re a ghost?”

“In a fashion.” He set his empty glass on the side table, his arm disappointingly steady. “I spent the past four thousand years trapped inside a prison realm. Until a few weeks ago, when I was freed just like the demons in the box.”

“Demons,” she repeated hollowly. She accepted the supernatural and always had. The world, humans and animals were so amazingly intricate, so perfectly honed, and so clearly of intelligent design, she knew there was a God...and if there was a God, there were guardian angels.

Her guardian angel was on vacation. Obviously.

Also, she’d seen far too much evil not to believe there were demons ruled by a devil. But...but...

Baden wasn’t an immortal. He couldn’t be. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. Normal. Ordinary.

“Where’s your laughter now, nevesta?”

Her eyes narrowed on him. He dared mock her? “Perhaps I’m too busy wondering if you’re going to blame your crimes on the demon.”

“No,” he said, surprising her. “I’m no longer possessed. Not by a demon, anyway. I’m not sure what inhabits me now. A dark presence...a beast named Destruction. But I don’t blame him for what was done at the chapel. I made my own choices. I pulled the trigger. I wielded the blade.”

A beast? Destruction? “You hurt the men in the chapel so easily. I’m guessing violence isn’t new to your wheelhouse, whether you are what you claim or not.”

“No, it’s not new to me. But sometimes it’s a special treat.”

Cold fingers of dread walked the length of her spine. “The more evil you do, the more evil you are,” she said softly. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined she was safe in Peter’s arms. A girl with a bright future. Happy. Hopeful. “What does your girlfriend...wife?...think of your proclivities?”

“I have no woman I call my own. There’s no one strong enough to handle me.”

Without strength, we have nothing. We are nothing.

“Strength is your only requirement in a mate?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “No. I want no mate. I’m too dangerous.”

He looked away from her, focusing beyond her. The color drained from his face, and flickers of red lit his eyes. No, no. His eyes were bloodshot, that was all. The horror of the situation—and his declarations—had affected her perception of him.

Sweat rolled from his brow as a tremor rocked him. Was he having a panic attack? Or was he fighting whatever he considered the beast?

She contemplated comforting him, but she knew better than to touch him.

“Sing,” he croaked. “Sing now.”

She wanted to snap at him for issuing such a harsh command, but she obeyed him instead. She’d often serenaded her dogs whenever they’d been frenzied. More often than not, they’d calmed. Within a few minutes, the red began to ebb from Baden’s eyes. He released a heavy sigh, the color returning to his cheeks.

He rubbed his temple, as if to ward off an ache. Or a voice he couldn’t silence.

Were the drugs finally kicking in? She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. If he suspected...

Keep him distracted.

“Well. It’s my turn to share.” Before he could order her to be quiet, she said, “I grew up with an American father. He was black. My mother was Slovak and as white as snow. Most people accepted our family, but there were some who didn’t. I got in trouble on more than one occasion for fighting the didn’ts. Knock-down-drag-outs at school. Daddy used to say we can’t fight fire with fire. We have to use water.”

“I had...no mother.” Baden blinked rapidly as his head lolled to the side. His eyes closed slowly, and stayed closed, his body slumping over the side of the couch.

What had he meant, he’d had no mother?

Did it matter? There was no better time to act. Stay calm. Stay focused. Katarina ran to the front door, searching for more weapons along the way. No knives, no guns. Nothing. Fine. She would go with what she had. Her hands shook as she flipped the lock. Hinges squeaked as the entrance swung open.

Ding. Elevator doors slid apart. Out strode the black-haired woman who’d smoked a cigar on her balcony. She had a big black bag slung over her shoulder—and headed straight for Katarina.

Humans weren’t a waste of space, after all. She’d come to help.

“Thank you!” Katarina stopped in front of her. “We need to notify—”

“Where’s Baden?” the woman asked, a raspy quality to her voice. Like Baden, she had a slight Greek accent.

The accent...the bands...

Unease overshadowed Katarina’s sense of elation. “In there. Asleep. I drugged him.”

The woman smiled with relish. “Well, well. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

Katarina latched onto her wrist to pull her back to the elevators. “Come on. We must notify the authorities. They’ll handle—”

“No. They won’t. But I will.” With that, the woman slammed her forehead into Katarina’s.

She careened backward, pain and vertigo rushing her. Her last thought before darkness swallowed her whole: Only I could escape a murderer and go from bad to worse.

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