Lethal Rider

“Because, you simpleton. We’re tired of hiding, so we went to your brother. He was very interested to know our origins. We were interested to know that killing your bastard would break your Seal. Pestilence promised us power over the nightwalkers and freedom from your rule if we pledged allegiance to him in the Final Battle.”

The Final Battle, in Daemonica prophecy, was the battle between all four of the Horsemen, when they fought each other for ultimate control of the Earth. Knowing that Than’s own creations wouldn’t stand with him pissed him the hell off. The betrayals kept coming. At this rate, Ares and Limos would turn against him before the end of the day.

Fury iced over his heart and added to the growing sinister vibration inside that demanded he seek out some massive scene of death. The draw to death had been muted while he’d been with Regan and the baby, but now that he was away from her, it roared back with a vengeance, clouding his mind and darkening his thoughts.

“How many of you are there?”

“There are clans all over the world, all united against you.”

“And amongst my staff?”

“For some reason, there are those who are loyal to you. But I’ll not say who.” Medras smiled. “What’s the matter, Bludrexe? Are you feeling the need to go somewhere?”

“I feel it, too.” Ares shifted his weight, growing as restless as Than. “Pestilence has done something … bad.”

Shit. Than tried to open a Harrowgate, but, like most major holy places, it was warded against them. “I have to get to Regan before—”

Too late. As if a massive hand had reached out of thin air and grabbed him, Than was snatched away and dropped into the middle of a nightmare he’d been through before.

The stench of death became a heady drug as he called out Styx and palmed his scythe. Must … kill. The desire to relieve bodies of their souls clamored loudly in his skull, but another, newer desire warred with it.

Regan.

No. Oh, God, no. Half of him wanted her na**d, screaming his name as he thrust between her creamy thighs. He wanted to claim her, mark her, use her so thoroughly that she’d be too tired to ever leave his bed. The other half of him wanted to kill, to draw blood and destroy everything in his path.

He roared in confusion and fury, trying desperately to hold onto conscious thought, because if he didn’t, if he let the death haze take him in a killing rampage, he might just let both halves win.

And then his draw to Regan and his desire to kill could become one and the same, and Regan would die.

Nineteen

Sunshine. Pestilence hated it. And yet, when killing and f**king didn’t soothe him, sunshine did. No doubt the warmth was a comfort left over from the days before his Seal broke, when that fool, Reseph, hung out on beaches with females and margaritas.

Just last night, Pestilence had dreamed of one of those times, one of Limos’s shindigs on a secluded California beach.

It might not have been the best of Limos’s parties, but it was the one that stuck out in Reseph’s memory the most. Even over the ball Limos had thrown in 1888 London, where Thanatos went ghastbat-shit crazy and killed one of the guests. Reseph never knew what had set Than off, but thanks to Thanatos, the serial killer demon the papers had dubbed Jack The Ripper never struck again.

Pestilence wondered where the Ripper’s demon soul was. He could be a lot of fun to let loose on the world again. There were hundreds of thousands of demon souls Pestilence wanted to unleash on the human world, and as soon as he destroyed Azagoth and Hades, he’d do exactly that. The problem was finding someone who knew where the Grim Reaper’s realm was located. Only a certain class of angel knew the location, and it wasn’t easy to catch one of the slippery buggers. Memitim were crafty. And more hardy than he’d anticipated.

He’d managed to capture one, but the male had withstood two solid weeks of torture without revealing a single useful detail. Now his stuffed and mounted body swung from the Sydney Harbor Bridge.

No matter. Lucifer, who was still pissed as hell at the Horsemen, and Limos specifically for killing his pet fallen angel, had reminded Pestilence that an ex-Memitim was sitting right under their noses: Idess, the very ex-Memitim who had performed the marriage ceremony for Limos and Arik.

How things came full circle, didn’t they? Pestilence was going to make Idess talk. And scream. And after she revealed Azagoth’s location, he’d make her scream some more.

He glanced down at his watch, wondering if Than had found the present Pestilence had left for him yet. Surely he was done with the daywalkers at Notre Dame by now. And what Pestilence wouldn’t have given to see the look on Than’s face when he learned that the daywalkers were siding with Pestilence.

His arrangement with the vampires was a perfect double-tap to the head with demon-caliber slugs. Not only was it one huge f**k you to Thanatos, but it could put the Apocalypse into motion. The angrier his brother got, the more mistakes he’d make, leaving openings Pestilence could exploit. And, if Pestilence played his cards right, Than’s temper would put him into a murderous rage, and he’d kill the baby himself.

Smiling, Pestilence tossed a seashell into the ocean waves on the Santa Barbara beach where Limos’s party had been. The shell made a plopping noise as it hit the sunlit water. This was what he’d done the day of Limos’s party, after all the guests had gone and Limos was sleeping off a week’s worth of rum and tequila. Reseph hadn’t been tired… just pleasantly sedate. He’d drunk lots of booze, had lots of sex, and had played his ass off in the water and on the sand. With everyone gone, he’d stood at the shoreline and chucked rocks and shells into the surf.

Than eased up to him, all silent and broody.

“’Sup.” Reseph winged another shell into the water.

“Nothing.”

Yeah, there was no “nothing” when it came to Thanatos. If he joined you silently, he wanted something, even if it was only companionship. Limos and Ares would prod Than for info, but Reseph knew better. The guy opened up when he was ready, and if you pushed, you were either looking at an empty space, or you were looking at knuckles in your face.

Reseph liked his nose unbroken and his teeth where they were, thank you very much.

They stood like that for a good ten minutes, Reseph plunking rocks and shells into the waves, and Thanatos doing his mannequin imitation. Finally, Than took a deep, resigned breath.

“I’m tired.”

“That’s what beds are for.”

Than closed his eyes and tilted his face to the sun. “Not like that. I’m tired of nothing changing.”

“Dude.” Reseph snorted. “Wheels hadn’t even been invented when we were born. Now there are people hanging out in space. Things change.”

“We had wheels,” Than said dryly. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Reseph knew that. “You’re talking about you.”

“I’m talking about you.” Than pegged Reseph with a hard look. “You’re a f**king idiot.”

“Ah… thanks? Can I call you an obnoxious a**hole now?”

Than snorted. “Like you ever needed permission.”

“True.” Reseph punched him in the shoulder. “You’re an obnoxious a**hole. Now, why am I a f**king idiot?”

“Man, you just opened a lot of doors with that question.” Thanatos grinned, and Reseph punched him again, harder. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll narrow it down.”

“Oh, this should be good,” Reseph said, barely resisting an eye roll.

“You’re a whore.”

Reseph blinked. “I’m failing to see the problem.”

A breeze kicked up, and Than turned into it like a dog with his head out of a car window. “Don’t you want more? After five thousand years of screwing everything in sight, don’t you want to settle down with a mate? Don’t you want kids?”

A twinge of guilt soured the gallon of piña coladas in his stomach. They weren’t talking about Reseph… they were talking about Than.

That was how Than worked. He couldn’t just come out and say that he wanted a family so bad it hurt… he had

to take the longest f**king route he could and make you read between the lines. Of course, if Reseph said flat-out that he knew the deal, Than would only retreat or attack, so Reseph proceeded carefully.

Which really wasn’t his style. But Thanatos didn’t open up often, and Reseph wasn’t going to make him regret doing it.

“I don’t want kids.” Reseph tossed another shell. “I mean, they’re cute… from a distance. Like opossums. And a mate? That would seriously put a damper on my sex life. It’s like, the chicks get hotter every hundred years or so. What if I took a mate today, and then in a hundred years, they’ve all evolved into supermodels?”

Thanatos muttered something that sounded a lot like “fucking idiot.” “So you’ve never met anyone who even tempted you into more than a one-night stand?”

He shrugged. “There’s been a few. Remember that succubus from Sri Lanka? I kept her around for an entire month.”

“Exclusively?”

“No. Duh.” Reseph reached up and scratched his chest, which had grown oddly tight. “Immortal females are great to party with, but keeping them around as mates? Eternity is a long time to be stuck with one female. And humans…”

“They die.”

Easily. They died so … easily. And early. Their lifespans were so pathetically short. The tightness squeezed harder, until it almost hurt to breathe. He’d lost a human once, and somehow that pain had survived the centuries. It wouldn’t happen again.

“If you could have a mate and kids, would you?” Reseph asked.

Silence stretched, broken by the waves and the occasional seagull. Thanatos scooped up his own handful of rocks and shells and heaved them all into the water.

“In a heartbeat,” he said quietly. “I would give up everything, my very soul, to have just one human lifetime with a mate and children.” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">