The Darkest Torment (Lords of the Underworld 12)

A sharp pain between his shoulders, followed quickly by another.

He ducked, twirling the guns once again and firing off another round. The creatures flew backward, screeching.

Destruction fought to take over, claws springing from the ends of Baden’s fingers. The marks in his arms began to burn, as if doused with acid. Shadows began to rise.

All threats will die!

“Behind you!” Pandora shouted.

He spun—and took a dagger across the cheek. A hard push came next, flinging him across the room. He slammed into a wall. More disoriented than he should be. Dizzy. A ringing in his ears.

His surroundings blurred. He caught the scent of vanilla. Home?

No, he hadn’t flashed unintentionally. He remained in the room with Pandora, had scented Katarina on his skin.

Poisoned claws, Destruction told him. I’ll burn it out.

A moment later, he felt as if he’d swallowed a branding iron. As he lumbered to his feet, strength restored, another dagger was shoved under both of his bands. The marks cooled, the shadows thinned. The dizziness returned. Suddenly eight distinct voices rushed his mind with desires so sick and twisted he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to cleanse their taint.

That kind of evil...it wasn’t a gift, even if it saved him for a short time. Even if it seemed to protect him. The Sent Ones had spoken true. Evil infected. Evil ruined. Destruction had been able to contain it, but as this proved, even Destruction had his limits.

The beast had gone quiet.

The bands needed contact with his skin to work? Before Katarina, Baden would have wondered why. After last night, he knew the power of a simple touch. Knew the strength of the bond it created. The absolute sense of connection.

He slashed through the offending legs and yanked the daggers out from under the bands—Destruction roared, the other voices diminishing—but another creature lashed out at him...and another...and another. They came from every direction. Anytime he felled one, two more took its place, the goal always to shove more daggers under the bands.

When Destruction went quiet, the other voices once again filled his head with those disgusting desires. He fought so fervently, foam actually dripped from the corners of his mouth. But all the while, he continued hacking at the legs that bound him.

Finally! Free! He rolled toward Pandora.

If one warrior could put down ten of these creatures, two warriors could put down a hundred.

Despite her obvious pain, she struggled against her captors. Black blood leaked from her eyes, nose and ears, as if the thoughts inside her head were too much to bear.

“Behind you,” she repeated, her voice weaker now.

He went low and twisted, firing the guns.

Click, click, click.

Out of bullets. Fine. He hacked at the creatures closest to him until they were nothing but bits and pieces and dove, using those pieces as a wall to block any oncoming stragglers. Midair, he ejected the empty cartridges and slammed the handles into new ones. When he landed, he popped to his feet and shot the creatures around Pandora.

They fell away from her as their legs detached from their bodies, but their daggers remained under her bands. She fought to remove them, but all too soon her knees gave out, and she collapsed.

Even writhing on the floor, she worked at the daggers, finally removing the last. She cried out with relief, the shadows springing from her arms.

With a hiss, they leaped at the creatures—now backing up. But not fully retreating. More amassed in the room, covering the ceiling, the walls, the floor, creating a sea of evil.

A war cry sounded amid the crowd. Creatures and shadows leaped into action and collided.

Baden yanked the remaining daggers out from under his own bands. When the last one slid free, his shadows joined the fray, Destruction now huffing and puffing.

His gaze met Pandora’s as he extended a hand in her direction. She hesitated only a second before accepting.

He hefted her to her feet, asking, “Aleksander?”

“Taken.”

He tried to flash to him, but failed. Too weak? He gathered his strength and tried again...failed again. Perhaps Aleksander had been killed?

A man could hope. “The coin?”

“No,” she said, as though pulling the word through a lethal obstacle course. “I was unsuccessful.”

A scream pierced the air. A limb plopped to the floor and black goo sprayed. The shadows were ravenous; he could feel the sharp pangs of their starvation as they feasted on the demons like the savages they were. Their teeth ghosted inside the creatures to rip at their spirits. Because that’s what the shadows were. Spirit. Like to like. But what happened to the spirit must manifest in the body, the two connected; the creatures began to lose hunks of bone, muscle and skin.