“No, it’s not new to me. But sometimes it’s a special treat.”
Cold fingers of dread walked the length of her spine. “The more evil you do, the more evil you are,” she said softly. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined she was safe in Peter’s arms. A girl with a bright future. Happy. Hopeful. “What does your girlfriend...wife?...think of your proclivities?”
“I have no woman I call my own. There’s no one strong enough to handle me.”
Without strength, we have nothing. We are nothing.
“Strength is your only requirement in a mate?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “No. I want no mate. I’m too dangerous.”
He looked away from her, focusing beyond her. The color drained from his face, and flickers of red lit his eyes. No, no. His eyes were bloodshot, that was all. The horror of the situation—and his declarations—had affected her perception of him.
Sweat rolled from his brow as a tremor rocked him. Was he having a panic attack? Or was he fighting whatever he considered the beast?
She contemplated comforting him, but she knew better than to touch him.
“Sing,” he croaked. “Sing now.”
She wanted to snap at him for issuing such a harsh command, but she obeyed him instead. She’d often serenaded her dogs whenever they’d been frenzied. More often than not, they’d calmed. Within a few minutes, the red began to ebb from Baden’s eyes. He released a heavy sigh, the color returning to his cheeks.
He rubbed his temple, as if to ward off an ache. Or a voice he couldn’t silence.
Were the drugs finally kicking in? She licked her lips, suddenly nervous. If he suspected...
Keep him distracted.
“Well. It’s my turn to share.” Before he could order her to be quiet, she said, “I grew up with an American father. He was black. My mother was Slovak and as white as snow. Most people accepted our family, but there were some who didn’t. I got in trouble on more than one occasion for fighting the didn’ts. Knock-down-drag-outs at school. Daddy used to say we can’t fight fire with fire. We have to use water.”
“I had...no mother.” Baden blinked rapidly as his head lolled to the side. His eyes closed slowly, and stayed closed, his body slumping over the side of the couch.
What had he meant, he’d had no mother?
Did it matter? There was no better time to act. Stay calm. Stay focused. Katarina ran to the front door, searching for more weapons along the way. No knives, no guns. Nothing. Fine. She would go with what she had. Her hands shook as she flipped the lock. Hinges squeaked as the entrance swung open.
Ding. Elevator doors slid apart. Out strode the black-haired woman who’d smoked a cigar on her balcony. She had a big black bag slung over her shoulder—and headed straight for Katarina.
Humans weren’t a waste of space, after all. She’d come to help.
“Thank you!” Katarina stopped in front of her. “We need to notify—”
“Where’s Baden?” the woman asked, a raspy quality to her voice. Like Baden, she had a slight Greek accent.
The accent...the bands...
Unease overshadowed Katarina’s sense of elation. “In there. Asleep. I drugged him.”
The woman smiled with relish. “Well, well. Aren’t you full of surprises?”
Katarina latched onto her wrist to pull her back to the elevators. “Come on. We must notify the authorities. They’ll handle—”
“No. They won’t. But I will.” With that, the woman slammed her forehead into Katarina’s.
She careened backward, pain and vertigo rushing her. Her last thought before darkness swallowed her whole: Only I could escape a murderer and go from bad to worse.
6
“Steal the box, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.”
—Baden, companion to Destruction
BADEN FOUGHT THROUGH the oppressive taint of lethargy, Destruction roaring obscenities in the back of his mind. Katarina had drugged him, obviously, and escaped.
As weak as she was physically, she was strong mentally. She’d proved to be smart, resourceful and sneaky. He’d underestimated her. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.
He almost...admired her right now. Almost.
Enemies must be dealt with swiftly and harshly.
Destruction wasn’t so easily impressed.
Only a few minutes ago, the beast had raged inside Baden’s head—the discussion about parents had made him think of his mother, Jezebel. A witch who’d ruled a section of the underworld before Hades. The bitch who’d sold Destruction to one of the (former) kings—the male who’d locked him in the dungeon all those centuries ago.