The Darkest Destiny (Lords of the Underworld 15.50)

She showed him how to use it while singing its praises. “Faultless detail. Sharper than any razor. Stronger than any bone.”

“It is glorious.” The craftsmanship truly awed him.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she perused him from head to toe. Her worry escalated. “I was so certain the bracelet would do the trick, but your aura hasn’t improved.”

He reached out to smooth the hair from her damp cheek. “Nothing will take me from you, love. I swear it. Not even death.”

“Maybe you need more weapons.” As she slid an equally masterful ring over his index finger, McCadden closed the distance to look everything over.

His brother whistled. “Should I place my order now or later?”

“Now is fine,” she said with a nod. “I’ll even give you the friends-and-family discount. Which is full price. But I’ll deliver the pieces with a smile. And I won’t kill you with them after taking all your money.”

“I have captured two Forsaken.”

Farrow’s voice filled the forge. As Brochan turned to face her, Viola leaped to her feet. Rubber gloves tumbled from her lap.

“I’ve stored them in the dungeon,” the female continued. She looked as if she’d just emerged from a blender. Robe ripped and stained with blood and dirt. Hair wild and windblown. Features pallid and eyes hollow. She didn’t spare the goddess a glance. “Come. Let’s get this over with.” She flashed, vanishing.

Finally! “Let’s test your theory about the Forsaken,” he said. Would severing their ties to their lifeforces succeed where fire had failed?

“I…no.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you anywhere near the others. What if they attack?”

He cupped her cheeks. “Remember what I said. I won’t be without you.” He wasn’t Forsaken anymore. He was loved. Stronger, not weaker. “The dungeon is secure. I saw to the repairs myself when I briefly—foolishly—considered keeping you there.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Stay here, Fluffy, and guard your brother. He’s fragile,” she added in a whisper-yell. Then she clasped Brochan’s hand and breathed deep. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

* * * *

Brochan flashed Viola beneath the palace, where a typical dungeon took shape around them. Dark and dank with stone walls and a dirt floor, the scent of death and despair lingering in the air.

Farrow stood in front of a cell, where two Forsaken paced. Crimson and someone she’d never met. Both males paused when they spotted Viola…and grinned.

Foreboding prickled the back of her neck.

“I told you she’d come,” Farrow said—and struck. As she threw her arm in Brochan’s direction, a grotesque whip launched from thin air, the handle appearing in her hand. In a blink, hundreds of spiked tentacles wrapped around the man Viola loved. They coiled around his mouth, his neck, his wings, the arms he’d drawn behind his back as he released her, his legs, and bound his ankles together.

The Forsaken yanked, and he tumbled. Viola dove to catch him, ensuring he eased to the floor. Their eyes met, and she had to swallow a cry of distress. His irises blazed with fury, fear and an apology as he struggled against his bonds to no avail. Her worst fear was coming to life.

“Attempt to free him, and he dies. Flash,” Farrow said, not knowing the ability was lost, “and he dies. And yes, he will die for good. I lied before and told you the Forsaken had revived from the fire. They didn’t. They are nothing but ashes in the wind. Exactly what will happen to Brochan if you fail to give me the key, goddess. Then, I will become your worst nightmare. Because we found a way to ensure we never die again, not even when we die.”

Though fear threatened to overtake Viola, she fought to disregard her emotions, good and bad, and straightened. “I don’t have a key,” she stated flatly. “I never did. I used the rumor to ensure Brochan protected me from the other Forsaken.”

“You lie!” the other woman shouted, her eyes glittering with rage.

Speaking of the other Forsaken, they pushed open the door of their cell—one that wasn’t locked. Grins widening, they stalked to Viola’s side, each clamping one of her arms.

“I’ll give you a final opportunity to tell me where you keep the key,” Farrow said. “Take Midian to fetch it. I will stay here with Brochan, and Harley will track down your pet and Brochan’s brother. I’m sure you’ve already guessed that they’ll die if you return without the key. Trust me, goddess. I’ve thought about this from every angle. I’ve planned with painstaking care. Your only hope is cooperation.”

Midian—Crimson—leaned down and placed his mouth at her ear. “I’m looking forward to spending some time alone with you, goddess.”

Shuddering, Viola closed her eyes. What should she do? What could she do? Bluff? Hope Midian teleported her somewhere else, remove his head and hope someone else returned her to the dungeon, praying Brochan wasn’t murdered sometime in between? Again, Farrow didn’t know he might be a Sent One again and far easier to kill.