King of the Damned: A League of Guardians Novel (24 page)

The two men ran, silent shadows sifting through the gloom, and Azaiel did not hesitate once they were upon the door. The knob turned easily in his hands, and he and Kellen slid inside, leaving the hellhounds yapping crazily behind them. They were in a dimly lit corridor, and Azaiel kept his weapons at the ready as he strode forward with purpose. He knew exactly where he was going.

They encountered several guards along the way, and Azaiel was impressed with the way Kellen handled himself—the young man had skills, that’s for sure. It made him wonder . . . what exactly Kellen James had been up to all the years he’d been estranged from his sister. Once back in the human realm, he was going to make it a point to find out.

They left behind a trail of corpses, hidden of course, but ones that would rise within twenty-four hours. Time was running out, and there was still so much to do.

He led the way down a long hall, with windows that overlooked a sea of blue. It was an illusion—this Azaiel knew firsthand—but a thing of beauty regardless. Seth the golden had an eye for it. You had to give the demon that.

When he reached the end of the corridor they turned left and came upon yet another that looked nearly identical to the one they’d just traversed.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Kellen sounded a little worried, and Azaiel nodded as his hand reached for the first door on his right. He clenched his teeth together tightly, felt his heart speed up, and when the surge of adrenaline shot through him he turned the handle.

The room was in darkness save for a candle burning beside the massive bed that was several feet in the air, high upon a pedestal. Pale sheets of peach-and-white gauze fell from the ceiling and caressed the edge of the bed. Several floor-to-ceiling windows brought the blue sea inside, and the breeze that tugged at the light green wisps of fabric on either side of them was sweet and warm.

A voice stirred the silence—a drowsy, feminine one.

“Is that you? Come this late to my bed? I don’t know if I should be angry or insulted.”

He and Kellen glanced up as a spill of long golden hair twisted in the wind, snaking outward like Medusa’s pets. Azaiel felt . . . nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Sorry to be late, but I’m here to collect a debt owed.” Azaiel watched as the blond hair gave way to golden skin and eyes the color of the brightest sky, beneath the brightest sun imaginable.

“Who is she?” Kellen asked in wonder. Azaiel knew he was entranced by her beauty. By the flawless features, perfect skin, and voice full of sex and promise. He needed to nip that in the bud right away.

“She’s Toniella the betrayer.” He glanced at his companion. “Trust me when I say guard yourself with this one. She’ll eat you up and spit you out like yesterday’s garbage and come back for seconds.”

Azaiel glanced back up at the woman who’d ruined his life. He smiled and beckoned her down, his fingers motioning quickly.

Kellen’s eyes narrowed. “And you trust her?”

“Hell no.” Azaiel stepped back, his face grim. “But she’s the only shot we have.”

Chapter 24

T
oniella stood in front of Azaiel in silence, silken hair falling to her waist, eyes wide in surprise. She wore nightclothes—if you could call the flimsy gown such. Gossamer soft, it was nothing more than a whisper of silk against her golden flesh. It did nothing to hide the perfect high breasts with their hardened pink nipples, nor the juncture between her legs, which he noted was free of hair. How could you not? Her legs were spread, just so, an open invitation by a woman accustomed to using sex for whatever it was she wanted. He knew that all to well.

She’d wanted him at one time . . . and he . . . Azaiel shook such thoughts from his mind, his eyes narrowed with scorn.

“You,” she whispered, licking her lips nervously as she gazed up at him. Toniella was barefoot, her small, delicate feet, with crimson toes expertly painted, peeked from beneath the folds of her gown.

Azaiel gazed down at the woman. Her eyes were as luminous as he remembered and her scent just as sweet. Generous, ruby red lips were wet from a nervous tongue, and they were parted . . . just so. As always.

But there was uncertainty in the depths of her eyes, fear and . . . something else.

“Azaiel.” His name was a whisper on her lips. “I never thought to see you again.” She smiled, though the frost that she emitted was as cold as the arctic. “At least not like this. I assumed the next time I saw your pretty face it would be mounted upon the gates. Something for the guards to use as target practice . . . for the next thousand years or so.”

He shrugged. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I’m not disappointed.” She took a step forward. “I’m impressed.”

Azaiel watched her carefully. “That would be a first.”

She moistened her lips once more—when there was no need—and took one more step until he could reach out and touch her.

“Azaiel, I was always impressed by you. Don’t you remember?” She stood on her tiptoes and reached for him. He let her slide her body alongside his, press her breasts to his chest, and wrap her arms around her neck. Azaiel watched through hooded eyes as she reached for him, as her mouth opened, and she pressed her lips onto his.

And still he felt nothing for her. This woman who’d tempted him from the very heights of the upper realm, who’d used her body, her voice, and her mind to lure him from his brothers. This blond viper who carried the sun in her eyes, heaven between her legs, and darkness in her heart.

He’d been damned the moment his gaze had rested upon her. There beneath the sun in the jungles of Belize and Mexico. He should feel anger. Hatred. Pain and vengeance.

And yet he felt nothing but the need to get this done. To get the grimoire back and see Rowan James again.

His hands slid along her shoulders, and the distaste he felt as she trembled against him wasn’t hidden. He gripped her tightly, his fingers digging deep, until she hissed in pain.

“What’s this? You like it rough these days? Has the heart of the warrior I fell in love with returned to me?”

“I need you to do me a favor,” he said as he peeled Toniella from his body and took a step back. Time was running out, and they needed to get to the treasury. She gazed up at him, and something shifted there in the depths of her eyes. No longer were they the clear blue of a Caribbean sea. They had grown dark, fully black, and the expression on her face was one of confusion.

“What game are you playing Azaiel?” She glanced at Kellen, her face shifting once more as the sex kitten came out to play. “And you’ve brought me a present?” She licked her lips and ran her hands across puckered nipples that strained against the silken material of her robes.

Kellen made a sound of irritation. “Seriously?” He turned to Azaiel. “This is all we have?”

“I don’t care for your tone,” Toniella muttered, a petulant tone creeping into her voice.

“Listen carefully, betrayer.”

“And I will not tolerate that name, Azaiel.” Her tone was harder, her eyes a glint of obsidian in the flickering candlelight.

“Is
whore
a better choice for you?”

The golden glow fled as her cheeks burned red. She glanced at Kellen, but his gaze was as unrelenting as Azaiel’s.

“What do you want?” she asked finally, hands clenched into small fists at her sides.

“As I said earlier. I’ve come to collect a debt owed.”

“A debt? Since when do I owe you anything?

“Since I shall reconsider killing you if you give me what I want.”

Toniella snorted, a perfect, dark blond eyebrow raised as she glared at him. “Nothing can die down here. You know that.”

Azaiel watched her closely, the charmed dagger in one hand, the modified Glock in his other. “I’ve not forgotten. But I’ve got it on pretty good authority that it still hurts like hell and”—he pointed the gun at her—“if maimed, that pretty head of yours might not heal the way you want it. Then where would you be? Still a whore, yes but an ugly, deformed whore, and who exactly down here is going to want to fuck that?”

Her golden skin paled even more until it was as fragile as rice paper. She stared up at him and opened her mouth but had no chance to speak.

“The bottom feeders, that’s who’ll be waiting in line. The blood demons, the soul suckers . . . they’d all pay Seth whatever he wants for the chance to sink their cocks inside the betrayer. The bitch eagle shifter who brought the mighty Azaiel to his knees.”

He was in her face now, the gun pointed directly between her eyes. “I will do this, Toniella. Do not sound the alarm, or I will rip your head off. I’ve been waiting millennium to destroy you, so don’t give me the excuse I’ve been looking for.”

Gone was the blank, empty void. He was filled with hatred. This woman had damned him as much as he’d damned himself.

“What do you want?” she asked carefully, her wide eyes never leaving the gun that was inches from her face.

“We need to get into the treasury.”

“The treasury? But how . . . I can’t get you inside. Are you crazy?” Anger underlined her words, and she pushed away from him. “Don’t toy with me, Azaiel.”

“I’m assuming that Lintos the keeper is still one of your weekly fucks.” She flinched, and for a second, he thought he caught a glimpse of pain. It was gone just as fast, and Azaiel ignored it. What did he care? “Go to him and get the key.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

His expression was fierce as he returned her stare. “Make it work.”

Toniella turned to Kellen. “Who are you?”

Kellen saluted her with his own modified Glock. “I’m the backup in case he misses.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I see.” She glared at him for several seconds. “You’re not human, but I don’t sense otherworld in your skin either.” Her brow furled. “What are you?”

“What I am is none of your business.” Kellen pointed toward the door. “I suggest you listen to Azaiel. Time’s a-wasting, and we’ve got a party topside to get back to.”

Toniella swore, a savage blending of Aztec and ancient speak, but turned and padded across the cool, marble tiles, with the two men following close behind.

They moved down the silent corridors—corridors that were much too silent—and Azaiel paused, his hand stopping Toniella from progressing.

“Why is it so quiet? If you’ve thoughts of leading us into a trap, know that I will follow through on my promise.”

She cocked her head to the side though she was careful to keep her voice lowered. “It’s your luck that Seth isn’t in residence at the moment. I’m sure if he were, he’d have sniffed you out long before you reached my rooms.” She shrugged and yanked her arm from his. “Several days ago, someone escaped District Three with Lilith’s new pets in tow, human children from what I heard. Seth was called to Lucifer’s for questioning. Everyone knows how much Seth despises Lilith, and most suspect he had something to do with it.”

Azaiel smiled at that. Declan O’Hara and Ana DeLacrux had done the deed, and though he wasn’t privy to the details, Azaiel wouldn’t put it past Seth to help the sorcerer achieve that goal. Being called to Lucifer’s court was a small price to pay. He and the dark prince shared a history not many understood, and it was rare that Seth the golden felt Lucifer’s wrath.

Still, it was no reason to treat this situation lightly—Seth’s security was always top-notch, with the only fault being sheer arrogance. And this was something shared by most of the upper-echelon demons. They ruled with an iron fist and were not challenged by the bottom scum of the underworld.

The last to take from Seth had been Lilith, and that had been centuries earlier.

Azaiel was aware that because they’d arrived at eventide, it was quieter than usual, but as they trekked farther into the compound, the band of tension inside his chest tightened, so that he found it hard to breathe.

They reached Lintos’s quarters, and Azaiel nailed Toniella with a glacial stare. His fingers dug into her forearm as he glared into her eyes. “You will do this for me and not raise the alarm. Understand? If things go badly, do not doubt I will hunt you down and hurt you like you’ve never been hurt before. I will poison and destroy the beauty you worship, and the pain will linger inside and ruin you.” He saw fear in her eyes, but it gave him no pleasure. He wanted to be away from the darkness. From the sulfur and heat. “Do what you must for the key.”

She swallowed and exhaled. “Take your hand off me.”

Azaiel stepped back, and Toniella disappeared inside the rooms while he and Kellen melted into the shadows that swept along the corridor. Two guards passed, and they made quick work of them, a knife across the throat, a dagger through the heart. They dragged the bodies behind a set of tall planters that were home to palm trees. They’d rise soon enough; Azaiel just hoped he’d be long gone by the time that happened.

They waited in silence though somewhere in the distance a harp played, accompanied by a voice filled with melancholy. “So.” Kellen cleared his throat some. “What did you do to get your ass tossed down here?”

He was wondering when the man would ask. He shrugged and peered through the shadows. “I gave in to weakness. In to pleasure. And I sacrificed all that I believe in for an illusion. For the betrayer.”

Kellen frowned. “What are you? Shakespeare? Say what you mean.”

Azaiel looked away, unsettled with his frankness. “I created something powerful for her. Something that could have ripped the realms apart and bled them into one. I broke every vow that I knew as Seraphim.”

“Sounds to me like you used her as much as she used you.”

The cold fist turned hard inside his chest once more and left Azaiel empty. He ignored Kellen and returned his gaze to the door that Toniella had walked through twenty minutes earlier. It hit him then. The thoughts he’d avoided. The whispers of regret.

He
was
no different than the eagle shifter, and yet he’d managed a second chance while she toiled below, here in the Hell realm. Was there justice in that?

No.
Azaiel cleared his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to linger in the past, so much of the future depended on what happened right now.

Time ticked by, and just when he was about to knock down the door and take the key himself, Toniella appeared. Her gown was ripped, her breasts and arms marred by mottled blue-gray bruises, as were her thighs. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her left cheek was swollen below her eyes. Were those tears that stained her face?

Toniella tossed him the key. “You owe me now, Seraphim. Lintos was entertaining some friends. I had to fuck half his garrison in order to get this for you.”

She looked away, shoulders hunched forward and for a second, something inside Azaiel cracked—just a little bit—but then she tossed her golden hair behind her, the bruises already fast fading, and smiled. “No matter. At least the exercise will aid my rest.”

Azaiel pointed back to where they’d come from. “You’ll sleep when we get inside the treasury.”

Her eyes narrowed at that. “If I get caught helping you . . .”

Azaiel was already moving forward. “Then don’t get caught.”

Kellen followed after him, falling in line as Toniella hastened to keep up. The three of them slid through the shadows with ease, and it didn’t take long to retrace their steps though this time they turned left at Toniella’s room instead of right. After a few moments they exited the main building through a nondescript doorway hidden behind a waterfall.

Once outside not more than a few steps away stood a large golden dome that looked to be the size of several football fields.

“This is not something you see every day.” Kellen‘s eyes widened as he took in the sheer magnificence of the building. Overhead a perfect moon shone, its beams falling upon the dome in an embrace of mist that reflected back like a dazzling blanket of jewels.

It was quiet and still. Much too still. The eerie silence made Azaiel nervous.

Kellen whistled softly. “Man, I think this Seth guy is overcompensating for something.” He grinned at Azaiel. “One guess as to what that is?”

He ignored Rowan’s brother and crept forward, stopping abruptly. He motioned to Kellen, indicated that there were two guards straight ahead, and shot one more look of warning toward Toniella. He didn’t trust the woman. At all.

Kellen went to the right and he to the left. The guards were demons, hellhound shifters—not the regular hellhounds found prowling the dunes. These were upper-echelon and from the looks of them, heavily trained in combat.

Azaiel held his dagger loosely in one hand and cocked the gun in his other. He decided that a direct approach might be the best and ran forward, firing point-blank between the demon’s eyes and swinging hard with his knife hand. The shifter spun forward and took Azaiel down with him, but the knife was true, and with a mighty heave, Azaiel cut the bastard’s neck clear through to his spinal cord.

He rolled to the side and strode to the door after making sure that Kellen was fine. Time was of the essence and something that moved differently down here. What seemed to Azaiel to only be a few hours could be days or even weeks topside. What if they were too late? What if Mallick . . .