Hold Me If You Can (16 page)

Or maybe Mari had specifically bribed the spirits to allow them entrance into the Den. He saw the grim look on Christian’s face and knew his teammate was thinking the same thing. “They’re waiting for us,” Christian said quietly.

“I know.” Of course they would be. Mari had two of their men. It was automatic that those remaining would go in after them.

“You know she’s expecting us?” Natalie stopped. “And we’re still going in?”

“You bet. She might be ready for us, but we’re ready as well.” Nigel’s palms began to smoke. He tested his mind, felt it was still clear. He was going into battle, and he was focused, with no need to draw, which he usually liked to do before heading into war. Having Natalie beside him was helping, not because of her Mystic power, but because she made him happy. Shit. That sounded weird. Happy wasn’t something he’d spent a lot of time thinking about, and he didn’t have time to start now. So he nodded at the portal. “We’re on.”

Christian squared his shoulders, and his skin was shimmering. “Nigel.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget our deal.”

Nigel swore. “Yeah, I’ll kill you.”

Christian nodded, and then he stepped up—

“No.” Nigel moved forward. “I take the first hit.”

This was his fault, and Mari clearly knew they’d be coming in. Whatever she had waiting for him, he would be the one to take it.

He readied his blades, made sure Natalie was safely behind him, then strode through the darkness into the hell that was waiting for him.

***

Inside the entrance to the Den was silence.

Blackness.

Utter stillness.

Nigel waited as he heard Christian and Natalie step through the portal behind him. “Don’t move,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong.”

He searched the night, searched the blackness, used every sense he had, but it was as if he’d been stripped of all his senses. As if he’d stepped into a void.

“What is it?” Christian asked.

“I don’t know.” Nigel called for a blade, and he heated it up, like a blacksmith would do in a forger. The glowing orange tip that he usually used for cauterizing injuries cast an amber light over the interior of the tunnel. And over the body of one of the warriors that Nigel knew all too well from his days in the Den. Max Bruta. Another young one, like Pascal, irreverent and a brutal badass. He’d come the closest to hurting Angelica before she’d cut him down. He was an angry son of a bitch, and that was what had kept him alive.

He was too damn mad to die.

“Max!” Nigel strode across the stainless steel floor and crouched beside the warrior.

Max was splayed on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Eyes sunken, face empty, his sword lying across his gut. He didn’t even look at Nigel, but Nigel sensed life still present in him.

“Hey, Max.” Nigel put his hand on his chest and found that his heart was still beating. Slowly. But… “Son of a bitch. His soul is gone.”

Christian hadn’t moved from the doorway, his metal skin glistening in the glow of the light from Nigel’s weapon. “What do you mean?”

“His soul.” Nigel searched the body, but there was nothing there. Just an emptiness. A blank. “It’s been stripped. There’s nothing left but an empty body.”

Natalie was beside Christian, her hand over her chest. “He’s a vampire?”

“No. He’s just done.” Nigel rose to his feet. “Mari killed his spirit and left his body to rot.”

Christian swore. “She’s stealing our will to live.” He ran his hand through his hair, a telling gesture he made only when under extreme stress.

“Looks that way.” Nigel exchanged grim looks with Christian. So many times, the only thing that had kept them alive was their will to live, their fight, the soul that beat at them to stay alive. The spirit was the essence of life, something they all had been able to cling to no matter what else she’d done to them.

And now Mari was stealing that? Screw that. It crossed a line that was beyond acceptability, even in war. “We need to get to Pascal and Blaine. Now!” They were going in now. No more were going to die.

He grabbed Natalie’s hand and sprinted down the tunnel, Christian on his heels.

The battle had begun.

Pascal narrowed his eyes as Smutty headed toward him. The dream genie’s shiny new loafers were nearly silent on the hardwood floors of the plush suite. Pascal had felt bad for the guy when he’d been Angelica’s smut monster and had been condemned to a life of running around as an oversized puppy dog.

But stealing another man’s soul?

The way he figured it, that was even worse than kicking another man in the nuts. Smutty had to go down.

“Oh, come on, Pascal.” Mari patted his arm, and Pascal let his gaze drift toward his captor. “Have I hurt you yet? Have I tortured you at all?”

He didn’t bother to mention the two-inch-deep burns on his arms from the stainless steel chains that were currently locking him down to the steel chair that had brought him from the bowels of the dungeons to Smutty’s lab of demented activities.

Much as he’d enjoyed his path toward becoming a manly man in the Den, now that he’d been out, he was proud to admit that he now preferred Francesca’s organic pizza and apple beer over being chained down. Go figure.

Mari, apparently, was able to read his mind. “Well, I wouldn’t have to chain you if you’d trust me,” Mari said defensively, as she knelt in front of him, forcing herself into his line of vision. “Listen to me, Pascal. You’ve got all this pain and anger inside you, all these thoughts of revenge and punishment. I know it’s awful. I don’t want you to suffer like that, so I want to help you. You’ll never be able to find peace in your heart while all this horrible stuff is running around in there. I’m going to give you peace.”

“Actually,” he said, “I’m generally a pretty chipper guy. The only time I get cranky is when I’m here. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

“Chipper is completely inadequate.” Smutty pulled up a bar stool and perched on the edge of it. “We’re talking about total salvation of the soul.”

“Sounds too dull for me.” Pascal scanned the room, searching for options. He knew he would get one chance to make a break, and he had to make sure he accounted for everything. “My soul likes being a little tarnished, and the girls seem to appreciate it.” He saw Danielle stifle a smile, and he winked at her.

The woman might be working for Mari, but she’d slipped him some peace when she’d tried to protect him from the metal chains, and he was down with that.

Mari smiled sadly. “Sweetheart, you say that only because you don’t really understand what real peace is. I’ll help you. You’ll see.”

Pascal sighed. The woman was going to be stubborn and shortsighted, wasn’t she? Apparently, once again, it was up to him to manifest his own destiny. He ran his fingers over the palms of his hands, and felt the tips of spines poking out from under the skin.
Come
on, baby.
Mari had no clue that Nigel had healed Pascal before she’d snatched him. He wasn’t back to full potency, but he was pretty damn close. A lot closer than she would be prepared for.

He had one shot.

And he was going to take it.

He wanted to get back to his pizza.

“Oh, come on, Pascal,” Mari said. “It’s not that bad—”

“It is!” That little chit, Danielle, who he’d never seen before today, shoved her way past the two psychotic beasts and stood in front of him. Blocking his access to the bad guys. “This is wrong. You’re worse than Angelica. Stealing their inner souls. It’s wrong!”

Well, he had to admit that he found her gumption somewhat endearing. It was clear she absolutely meant what she said. He liked that. And quite frankly, it was damned cute that the little thing was trying to protect him. Hello? Who was the badass warrior in the room? That would be the big guy strapped to the chair.

Despite his appreciation for her willingness to give Mari grief, her audacious little move had the unfortunate side effect of placing her right between him and the bad guys, which meant that she would be caught in the cross fire once he went to work. He got no bad vibe from her, and he wasn’t really interested in hurting her. Which meant she had to move that cute little fanny of hers aside. “Get out of my way,” he said quietly, the command barely a whisper in the air. “Hide.”

Danielle whirled around, a startled look on her face. Her bright blue gaze met his, and he saw the anguish on her face. He knew then that she was as much a victim as he was. She was trapped like the men in this place. Seemed to him that he was going to have to take her with him when he left, didn’t it?

Always fair damsels to be rescued. It made a warrior’s life such a challenge.

“What did you say?” Mari leaned forward, disrupting the vibe Pascal had going on with Danielle. “I’m just giving you love, for heaven’s sake. Doesn’t anyone understand how important love is?”

Pascal ignored Mari and kept his gaze fixed on Danielle, willing her to understand.

For a moment, she didn’t move, then she raised her brows and took a step to the side. At his nod, she flashed a brief smile and eased behind the huge wooden wardrobe housing Smutty’s new designer suits. Trusting him.

Good
girl.

“Pascal is too thick-minded to understand the gift we give him,” Smutty said. “I will take care of it.”

Pascal turned his focus back to Smutty. He’d seen them carry Max down to the tunnel, and there was no way he was going to allow them to do it to him. He liked his own mind just fine.

Smutty pulled the chair up and leaned forward, staring intently into Pascal’s eyes.

Pascal met his gaze, unflinchingly, and he allowed himself to feel the threat. His easygoing relaxation rolled away, and a powerful strength began to build inside him. He drew on the fire Nigel had given him. His skin began to prickle everywhere as spines began to form. Lethal, acid-laced spines. He would have preferred something less hostile, like a whiffle ball, but this wasn’t the moment to tap into his softer side.

Because, as he’d said, he liked his brain exactly how it was. He bunched his hands and felt the scales beginning to harden.

His fingernails began to extend, digging into his palms.

His teeth began to lengthen.

His scalp started to itch as the hair shifted into scales.

Smutty leaned closer, his gaze intent, and then Pascal felt pressure in his head. Tingling in his brain. He knew that the son of a bitch was inside his mind now, attempting to strip away who he was.

Yeah, good luck with that. He was not going down.

“Wait!” Mari shouted. “Pascal’s going—”

Pascal unleashed the beast.

The chains exploded as he ripped free of his human form. Smutty leapt back as Pascal erupted to his feet. He whirled around and expelled the spines from his body. They screamed through the air and embedded themselves in the furniture, Mari, Smutty, and the walls. Sparks exploded from the computer, and the television went haywire. Smutty shouted with pain, and the monster inside Pascal came to life. Feeding upon the fear, the pain, the anguish.

Pascal fought to stay in control, to direct the beast, but he felt his mastery slipping as the monster became stronger. The girl. He wanted the girl. Pascal leapt across the room and ripped aside the wardrobe. She was huddled down behind it, and her face was stricken as she saw the beast gazing down at her.

Pascal tensed, expecting the monster to kill her, as it always did. Killing whatever was around. But instead, the beast reached for her, palm up in invitation.

In a crazy move that spoke either of insanity or a suicide mission, Danielle instantly set her hand in his with total trust. And in some bizarre unfolding of events, the beast did not chomp her for dinner, but instead pulled her to her feet—

Something crashed into the back of his head, and the monster howled with agony as Danielle yelped and shouted his name. Pascal’s body went numb and he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. He felt the monster begin to retreat, felt humanity returning.
No!
What was happening? Where was it going?
Come
on!

But his skin reappeared and his vision went back to normal as Mari came to stand over him. His spines were sticking out of her body everywhere, and she wasn’t even wincing. She yanked one out and tossed it aside. “I’m so sorry I had to take away your beast, but I can’t let you walk away from happiness. Don’t you understand? I’m trying to fix what we did to you. Please, stop fighting and understand that it’s different now.”

Weirdly, it didn’t feel real different than the last time he’d been here. He tried to release another barb at her, but he couldn’t move his arm. Just agony, raw, sheer agony ripping through him. Jesus. She really had taken away his beast, at least for the moment.

Well, that was different, he’d give her that. But not one of those
good
changes.

Smutty came hurrying up. Spines were poking out of him, but with one shrug, they all spewed out of him and dropped on the floor. “Smut comes in handy. I’m carrying the smut from the spell that created your spines, so it can’t hurt me.” He squatted next to Pascal. “You are so tormented by frustrated dreams and desires, my boy. Let me take care of that for you.”

“No!” Pascal fought, he struggled, he tried desperately to shut his mind to the invasion, but his head began to ache, to tingle, to pulse with pain… And suddenly, he didn’t hate Mari anymore.

And then the rest of his soul began to be torn away.

Dammit.

He’d really liked himself.

***

“Get away from him!” Nigel charged through the door and hurled a red-hot dagger at the man leaning over Pascal.

The man leapt up as the blade plunged into his chest, and he instantly dissolved into a dozen rats. The blade cleaved harmlessly through the pack and thudded in the wall behind him. The rodents sprinted for the door, merged into one big pile and then transformed into a giant troll wearing a “Trolls kick ass” shirt.

“It’s Smutty.” Nigel had already spent plenty of time fighting the black magic smut monster, and he’d seen it shift forms faster than a teenage girl could change her mind. None of the forms were good news. And none of them were stoppable, at least from what he’d seen.

But anyone could be slowed down.

Nigel peppered Smutty with blades as he sprinted across the room toward Pascal. The kid was comatose on the floor, like Max had been. “Cover me, Christian.”

Smutty shimmered and resumed his human form. “Warrior. I can take away your pain. I can take away your discomfort. I can give you peace!”

Well, damn. That was almost worth investigating. But the timing just wasn’t quite right. You know, the middle of battle and all that.

Instead, he tossed a handful of blades at Mari, intending to lock her down against the wall. But she held up her hand, and his blades stopped in midair and went careening right back toward him.

He opened his palm to take control back, but they sailed past him and headed right toward Natalie, who was standing just inside the door.

“Shit!” He screamed silent orders for the blades to divert, but Mari had stripped his bond with his weapons. He couldn’t stop them. They weren’t his anymore, and they were going to take out Natalie.

Son of a bitch! He charged for Natalie. “Get down!”

She dropped to the floor and he threw himself over her as the blades peppered his back, hammering at him like a machine gun.

The pain struck him with brutal force, and his body shook with the agony of trying to fight it off.

He was vaguely aware of Christian engaging in battle, but he couldn’t move quite yet. Couldn’t think. It was taking all of his concentration simply to stay conscious. In hopes of at least slowing Mari down, he’d unleashed killing blades, every one of them with enough force to knock out an army of demons, and now they were camped out in his body.

But, better than Natalie’s body, so he was counting this one as a victory for the good guys.

“Nigel!” Natalie held his face in her hands, her face stricken with worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just a scratch.” Her hands were warm and soft, a feel of humanity and warmth. He focused all his attention on her touch, tried to hang onto the feeling she gave him while he tried to figure out what Mari had done to him. No one had ever broken his link to his weapons. He felt impotent and weak. Not powerful. Not driven. “Can’t—”

Tears filled her eyes. “Come on, Nigel! Don’t die on me—”

He snorted. “Die? I’m not going to die—”

“You!” Mari grabbed Natalie and ripped her out from under Nigel.

“Hey! She’s mine.” Nigel lunged for Natalie as Mari pulled her out of his reach. “No!” He swore at the terrified look on Natalie’s face as she fought to hang onto Nigel.

“Welcome to my home, little smut monster.” Mari dragged Natalie over toward the door, her iron grip leaving no chance for escape for a woman whose talents lay with chocolate and sex. “Charles,” Mari announced. “Here she is. She’s the one. We can take more off you much faster with her here.”

Dizziness began to take over Nigel’s brain, and his mind clouded as the poison from his knives penetrated his defenses. Through his dimming vision, he saw Christian thrown back against the wall by Charles, landing beside Pascal. And then Smutty crouched over Christian, his eyes focused.

Christian shouted and went scaly, lashing out. Being stripped of his mind. “No!” Nigel fought to get free of his own poison, struggled to help his friends.
Come
on!

Natalie shrieked and recoiled against the wall, holding her belly as Mari poured more smut into her. Her skin flashed dark cobalt, and then he smelled sulfur, the sulfur of demons.

Natalie!
She was in danger. She was getting hurt. And he couldn’t protect her—

Son of a bitch.

His skin began to prickle, and he realized he was going to lose it. And with fear for Natalie’s life driving him, he knew it was going to be even worse than in the alley.

They were all going to die, and he was going to be the one to kill them.

Son of a bitch. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed her. It had done him in, and now they were all going to pay.

***

Natalie’s vision began to blur, and her muscles began to shake. Dark, crimson nails began to extend out of her fingertips, and her skin began to glow like bronze metal. And it hurt. God, it hurt—