Rogue Rider

A blast of annoyance came off Arik as he strode across the room to her. “You aren’t fighting, Li.”

“Of course I am.”

Arik cursed. “I fight, you stay in here.”

“Hey, man.” Ares clapped Arik on the shoulder. “I know you’ve got a protective streak a mile wide, but you’re going overboard with the me-man-you-woman shit.”

“See?” Limos said, batting her eyelashes at her husband. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“You want to tell them or should I?” Arik’s voice was sharp.

Reseph went taut. “Tell us what?”

“Dammit, Arik,” Limos snapped. “This isn’t necessary—”

“She’s pregnant,” Arik broke in. “No way is she fighting.”

It took a second for the news to sink in, and when it did, happiness collided with worry for her and the baby, because sure as shit, this wasn’t the ideal place for either one of them.

“Okay, yeah,” Than agreed. “Limos doesn’t fight.”

Limos huffed. “Guys, hellooooo. I’m immortal. I’ll be fine.”

“You might be immortal, but you aren’t immune to injury,” Ares reminded her. “And remember what Reaver said about unborn children of immortals when Regan was pregnant? That their mortal status can’t be judged until they’re born? They’re still vulnerable in the womb.”

Reseph nodded. “No fighting, Li. And no arguing.”

Outside the ground rumbled again. Reseph turned back to the window and abruptly wished he hadn’t. “Jesus. There’s got to be thousands of demons out there now. And they’re closing in.”

A hundred curses fell from Ares’s lips in as many languages. “We can’t stand up to that. Shit. Where the f**k is Reaver? I summoned him an hour ago.”

“I’m done waiting, Horsemen.” Lucifer’s voice rattled what was left of Jillian’s windows. “I think I’ll send for your mates and children. And then I’ll tear their limbs off one by one until you show your cowardly faces. Come out now and spare their lives.”

“Bastard.” Thanatos raced for the door, Ares on his heels, but Reseph leaped in front of them. They checked up, but barely, their big bodies trembling with the desire to fight for their families.

For the first time, Reseph understood that.

“I’ll surrender myself,” Reseph said to them. “It’s me he wants.”

“Reseph, no,” Jillian gasped. “You can’t.”

“Excuse me.” Tracker crept forward tentatively, haltingly, as if he expected to be struck for speaking. He pulled a small, clear case from his pocket, and deep inside Reseph, Pestilence stirred. “I have something for Reseph.” He held it out, but a booming voice froze them all.

“Reseph!” Reaver materialized at Tracker’s side. “Do not take that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s concentrated evil,” Reaver said in a commanding tone that shook the entire house. “Merely touching it could set Pestilence free.”

Forty

Bile rose up in Reseph’s throat as he stared at the crystal case. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the malador.” Tracker lifted the lid to reveal a thorny black chain connected to a pulsing obsidian stone. “Harvester said it will give you the power you need to defeat Lucifer.”

Reaver palmed Reseph’s shoulder, and he felt the angel’s heat through the metal. “Don’t take it. Don’t even think about taking it. That’s what Lucifer tortured Harvester for, and if Lucifer wants it, it’s gotta be plutonium-grade evil.”

Reseph understood Reaver’s concern. Hell, Reseph had the same concern. But this might be the only shot they had at beating Lucifer. Then again, if Pestilence came out… shit.

“Look outside, Reaver. We can’t defeat Lucifer.” Deep inside Reseph, Pestilence laughed. The f**ker. “Not without help. If I can keep control of Pestilence, this could work.”

“It’s risky,” Thanatos said. “Too risky.” Souls swirled all around him as he paced in front of the door, his rage barely contained. Ares wasn’t much better off, his hand opening and closing over the pommel of his sword.

“Reaver, can’t you help?” Arik asked. “You’re an angel. Angels are supposed to fight demons, right?”

“If Lucifer was attacking humans, yes. But this is a demon matter. No civilian humans are involved. Your mates don’t count because they’ve been altered in some way. We can’t interfere.” Reaver’s eyes glittered. “Well, other angels can’t. I won’t let my children suffer.”

“What about your Watcher rules?” Reseph asked.

“Fuck it,” Reaver said with a shrug. “I’ve broken rules before.”

Reseph looked at each person in the room, ending with Jillian. He’d caused everyone so much pain, had never shown a bit of mercy. Now he could spare them more pain. No one would fight, and Reaver wouldn’t break any rules.

“I’m going alone.”

There was a chorus of bullshits and f**k yous from everyone, including, surprisingly, Arik.

Reseph cut them all off with a curse of his own. “I swear to you, I’ll control Pestilence, but for this to work, Lucifer has to believe he’s in charge and I’ve turned my back on you.”

“My minions are outside Ares’s mansion.” Lucifer called out. “You have two minutes before I order an attack.” As his voice faded away, a war chant started up, a guttural oath in Sheoulic that spoke of breaking bones, spilled innards, and skull-fucking.

Yeah, Reseph was going to end this. None of those hellspawn were going to lay a hand—or anything worse—on Jillian’s skull.

Taking a deep breath, Reseph took the case from Tracker’s hand. The moment he did, a dark, oily evil hit him like a fist. It was a punch to the head with a follow-up strike to the gut. His stomach rolled, and deep inside him, the container holding Pestilence developed a massive new crack.

Yes, yes, yes! The voice was a whisper in Reseph’s mind, a whisper, and yet somehow it was way too loud. Put it on. We’ll rule the world.

“Shut the f**k up,” Reseph muttered.

“Reseph?” Jillian’s sweet voice came from behind him.

His throat clogged as he turned to her. “It’ll be okay.” If he had to make a deal with the devil—literally—he would. “I just hope you don’t hate me after this.”

“Never,” she whispered, but he doubted that.

Reseph dipped his head so his lips grazed the shell of her ear. “Thank you for giving me the happiest days of my life.”

Before she could say anything, he kissed her. Kissed her with as much passion as he could put into it. And then, before he could change his mind, he broke away from her.

Fisting the chain, he slipped it over his head. Pestilence roared to the surface, victory exploding from his very essence.

Join with Lucifer. Destroy our siblings! Fuck your little whore until she’s dead!

“No!” Reseph fell to his knees, struggling to keep Pestilence from completely escaping the vessel and throwing off the hands that came down to help him. Pestilence wasn’t going to play nice. Reseph had to find another way. Get his cooperation. He looked out at the army of demons. “We want that army for ourselves. If we destroy Lucifer, we can be Satan’s right hand. We can assure ourselves a place at his side when the biblical Apocalypse begins.”

Yes… yes, I like that. Lucifer was always such an a**hole.

It was dangerous to work with Pestilence, and Reseph knew it. The joy Pestilence took in killing would fill Reseph like a drug and cloud his judgment. But he had no choice. He just had to hope no one in the house believed what he’d just said out loud in his conversation with his evil half.

Shoving to his feet, he staggered to the doorway, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Especially not Jillian’s. Get it together… get it together…

He breathed deeply, giving himself a moment to draw on Pestilence’s malignant energy and fill himself with strength. Power sizzled over the surface of his skin and his muscles juiced up, turning his body into a giant battery of evil.

That’s it. We are invincible.

Palming his sword, Reseph strode out of the house and across the clearing. The first ten demons who tried to strike him down found out how powerful a tiny piece of evil could make a Horseman. The eleventh, a Cruentus male who had served Pestilence, recognized his master and fell to his knees in awesome supplication.

After that, the crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses.

Reseph approached Lucifer, employing his trademark cocky confidence and Pestilence’s arrogance. “Hey, Lucy.”

The fallen angel, currently dressed as a leather-clad biker with waist-length black hair, gave him a nasty smile. All around him, the wind shrieked as if it were being tortured, but not a single snowflake touched Lucifer. Even Mother Nature kept a respectful distance from the evil monster.

“I’m going to cut that loose tongue right out of your head, you pompous cock.”

“Aw.” Reseph feigned a pout. “You’re sad that Lilith’s tongue no longer services that tiny dick of yours.”

Lucifer hissed. He’d never had much of a sense of humor. “Let the pain begin.” He raised his hand, and his minions readied their weapons.

“Hold!” Reseph’s voice carried on the wind, amplified by Pestilence’s resonance. “We’re ready to strike a deal.”

Deal? No deal! Pestilence beat at the walls of Reseph’s skull.

“I’ll serve you. I’ll be your lackey, your whipping boy, your… whatever. Willingly.” God, he nearly threw up at the words. Pestilence had been at Lilith’s with Lucifer enough to know what peculiar tastes the male had. But Reseph would do whatever Lucifer wanted for all eternity if it meant his family would be safe. “Leave my family alone, and I’ll do whatever you want.” 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">