The Darkest Torment Page 51

All Baden could do was grab Katarina and the dogs and flash to the holding cell where Aleksander remained, before the three were hit. The room was untouched by the violence that had taken place aboveground, the bastard still chained to the wall. He would be unable to reach Katarina.

“As long as you stay on this side of the cell, he can’t hurt you,” Baden told her. Destruction banged against his skull, enraged, ready to return topside and kill. “Patch your thigh and stay here.” Not that she could leave without him. “Do not get near the man.”

Boom!

The walls rattled, and dust filled the air.

“Don’t leave me here, Baden. I—”

No time to argue. He flashed to the fortress. Or, what remained of it. Amidst the rubble, he caught sight of a fine-boned hand, fingernails painted pink. Ignoring the beast’s desire to hunt the new enemy, he rushed over and dug through stone and debris. Strawberry-blond hair finally came into view and his stomach sank. Gwen—Sabin’s mate. Her eyes were cloudy, her chest motionless. Soot and blood caked her cheeks.

Baden freed her, wondering if he would find the keeper of Doubt nearby, dead. As he pressed two fingers into Gwen’s neck to check for a pulse—be alive, please be alive—the bands on his arms heated. No. No! Not now. But he was helpless to stop the pull and dematerialized...reappearing in Hades’s throne room, Pandora beside him.

“Send me back,” he commanded, trying to flash and failing. “Right now.”

Hades stood at a long rectangular table, the four kings surrounding him in a show of support.

The Iron Fist was shirtless, revealing tattoos similar to Hades’s. Strange and...alive? Those markings moved, slithering over his skin. He had long, wavy black hair, a thick beard shadowing his jaw.

The warrior with a slight bluish tint to his skin, eyes surrounded by black paint—surely he hadn’t been born with such coloring—and staple-like piercings that stretched the length of his eyebrows, laughed. “Your puppet thinks he’s in charge. How adorable.” He had a slight accent. What he didn’t have? Hades’s essence.

Destruction snarled with hatred.

Baden leaped at him and threw a punch, the strength of an army in his arm; he could feel it, the bands so hot they blistered his skin. The male merely stumbled back a step and worked his jaw.

“Not bad.”

“I told you he was strong,” Hades said, sounding like a proud papa.

“But he’s not overly bright.” The new voice came from behind him, warm breath fanning his neck just before he was lifted over the head of the Iron Fist—must have flashed behind me—and tossed across the room. “Perhaps the blow will knock some sense into him.”

Bones shattered, pain a burst of sensation, but he didn’t care. He stood and limped over. Threat. Will kill.

Once again Pandora kept pace beside him. She still had only one good eye and it was locked on the male responsible for Baden’s unplanned flight. “I’m allowed to hurt him.” She wasn’t exactly steady on her feet, either, but at least they had a common enemy in sight. “You’re not.”

“Enough,” Hades said, looking bored.

Baden and Pandora froze, their limbs locking in place.

“Send me back,” Baden repeated, his rancor echoing from the walls.

“This is the thanks I get? I brought you here to warn you. Lucifer has sent an assassin to destroy you. His name is...something. I forget because I don’t really care. He’ll use—”

“We know,” Baden and Pandora shouted in unison.

“He’s at the fortress,” Baden added. “Which might have already fallen.”

“Well, then.” Hades stood and stepped toward them. “To defeat such a warrior, you’re going to need a boost.” He touched their bands, the heat cranking up a thousand degrees.

Baden roared as his knees buckled. Destruction roared, as well, but it wasn’t only a new flood of pain he felt. Power exploded inside him. So much power.

“The one to defeat the assassin,” Hades said with a smile, “will receive five bonus points. Go.”

Baden wasted no time; he flashed home. Pandora appeared beside him, equally determined to win those points.

Truce over. “Mine.” He picked her up and launched her across the rubble.

Drunk on the power, Destruction quickly worked himself into a maddened frenzy. Killkillkill. Never stop. Raze the world!

Baden’s hands fisted of their own accord. He would hurt anyone foolish enough to get in his way.

Yes, yes. He focused on the assassin, who had been grounded a few yards away, his wings bent at an odd angle. Smoke thickened the air, the black tendrils beautifully macabre as they curled toward the clouds like ribbons, but Baden had no trouble identifying the warriors currently engaged in battle with his target. Paris, Sabin, Maddox and Torin. They swung swords, fired guns, and threw punches and daggers, inflicting damage but not death.

KILL!

Baden could suddenly taste the desire to end life. His blood was hot and only growing hotter, even as the bands cooled.

“Mine,” he said and took a step, just a step, but the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of his target. Maddox’s punch landed on the back of his head, but he barely felt the blow that would have killed a weaker man.

The assassin grinned, revealing his lack of a tongue. Not to mention tusks as yellow as his claws. He slammed a fireball into Baden’s face—and Baden loved it. The flames only empowered him, bonding with whatever juice Hades had given him, his body acting as a conduit. And a syphon.

The assassin’s grin waned, and he stumbled backward.

Baden tracked him, punching a fist through his breastbone and ripping out his heart. That. Easily.

Pandora appeared behind the creature. She swung her sword, hacking off his head. The head flew like a football. The body flopped to the ground like a wet noodle, blood spurting out, quickly creating a pool.

One down, many more to go. His enemies were weakened from the battle. Strike now!

Shhh. You don’t need to kill anyone. I’ll keep you safe.

Katarina’s voice drifted through his head, soothing Destruction, and Baden frowned. She wasn’t here, and she’d never said those words to him. She also wasn’t strong enough to guard him.

“You okay, man?” Sabin asked, patting his shoulder.

Calm. Steady. Baden dropped the rotted organ, saying, “How’s Gwen? The others?”

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