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Leaving the bloodline in place, Bjorn let himself, and thereby Fox, fade into spirit form. He spread his wings and leaped through the ceiling, flying to the heavens. Blood, still dripping… Strength, still waning…
His pain escalated. For some reason, the sweetness of her scent kept his mind awake and active, which kept him fighting to reach his friends at the Downfall. Once there, he would be patched up. Once patched up, he would regain his strength.
Then, he would kill Fox.
Chapter Four
Bjorn flew through the third level of the heavens. The first and second levels were located above this one, where the Most High, angels, and spirits of the dead resided. Night had fallen, the darkness thick and cloying.
He did his best to dodge the clouds, for Sent Ones lived inside them. Problem was, his eyelids seemed to gain a hundred pounds with every minute that passed. If he failed to reach his destination soon, he would pass out and fall from the sky. A crash-landing would end him, as well as Fox.
He tightened his hold on her. To distract himself from the pain and weakness, he hosted a one-way conversation with his baggage. “The order to slay you came directly from a leader of the Elite 7, Zacharel. He received his orders from the second-in-command of all Sent Ones, Clerici, who oversees the three types of Sent Ones. Messengers, who deliver heavenly missives between realms. Warriors, who hunt and kill demon minions. And the Elite 7, who fight the most powerful demons, the High Lords.”
Finally, the Downfall entered his line of sight. Praise the Most High!
He flapped his wings with more force. The nightclub for immortals was a literal fortress perched atop a mossy cliff, both enveloped by a cloud Bjorn owned with his closest friends, Thane and Xerxes. Males he loved like brothers. No, more than brothers. They hadn’t been born into the same family, but they’d chosen to stay together. That mattered.
Centuries ago, before they’d met, an Elite soldier had recruited them to help track and kill the demon High Lord of Perversion. Only, Bjorn was captured and imprisoned instead, along with Thane and Xerxes. After months of torture he couldn’t relive without screaming, sobbing, or wanting to hurt himself and anyone around him, he’d changed. They had, too. Charismatic Thane grew morose. Energetic Xerxes turned sullen. Carefree Bjorn became broody. The only beauty to grow from the ashes of his torment? An unbreakable bond.
In the years since their escape, they’d discovered they worked better as a unit. He trusted the pair with his life. They guarded his back, no matter the situation, just as he defended theirs. To keep them safe, he would cross any line. He would even fall, losing his wings, his immortality, and his home.
The second his feet touched the roof, a wave of dizziness suffused his mind. His legs buckled, his knees too weak to bear his weight. He landed on his ass, somehow managing to maintain his hold on Fox, who bounced on his shoulder.
Careful. Fox the Executioner was as cunning as her named suggested. If she awoke and pretended to be asleep, he needed to know it. Bjorn readjusted her as gently—read: clumsily—as possible so that he cradled her against his chest. Her cheek rested on his shoulder, her warm breath fanning his neck. Now, at least, he would detect a flutter of her lashes, or a hitch in her breathing.
Unable to rally the strength to audibly shout for his friends, he was reduced to transmitting a telepathic SOS. A talent all Sent Ones possessed. On roof. Injured. Need help.
He had no doubt they’d stop whatever they were doing and…yes. His sensitive ears picked up the sound of hurried footsteps. Hinges squeaked, the only entrance/exit on the roof swinging open. The steps started up again, only faster. Then Bjorn saw them. Thane and Xerxes both wore concerned expressions.
His chest swelled with a calming mix of relief, love and confidence. Everything would be okay. His friends would rather die than lose him, just as he would rather die than lose them.
They sprinted to his side, and Xerxes attempted to take the girl.
Bjorn held fast, grating, “Mine.” His assignment. His target. Strangely enough, one of his favorite memories. Nakedness should be a requirement for any form of combat.
Xerxes lifted his hands, a gesture of innocence before working with Thane to help Bjorn stand with Fox still cradled in his arms. It brought back memories of their imprisonment. How many times had these males patched him up while offering comfort and encouragement? Countless.
“Let us dispose of the body, my friend,” Thane said, his tone tender.
With golden curls, blue eyes, and tanned skin, Thane resembled an angel. With long white hair, red eyes, and scarred white skin, Xerxes resembled a devil. Bjorn hovered somewhere in the middle, part angel, part devil.
Other Sent Ones considered their threesome amoral. They often slept around, got high on ambrosia, and killed anyone who wronged them. Well, Bjorn used to sleep around.
“She isn’t dead,” Bjorn admitted. “Just resting.”
If any other Sent Ones were present, protests and criticism would have rung out. If those Sent Ones were prone to fits of temper, punches would have been thrown. And he would deserve all of it! Fox had murdered ten Sent Ones in cold blood. Perhaps she’d been paid to do it. Maybe she did it for grins and giggles. Or, what if the demon had dictated her actions? The reason didn’t really matter. The ten had been innocents with families desperate for their return. Now, they were dead.
The reaction he received from his boys? Nods. They accepted what he’d done, or what he’d not done, and they trusted him to make it right.
“How can we help?” Xerxes asked. “Shall I kill her for you?”
“No!” The word burst from him with more force than he’d intended. “Want to keep her in the dungeon. Will kill her after I heal.” Going against Clerici’s orders was a crime. If they were found out, they would be punished. Yet, he knew neither friend would hesitate to offer aid.
“Of course,” they said in unison.
“Whatever you need,” Thane added.
“We will ensure no one knows,” Xerxes vowed.
See! “Love you,” he croaked, still hemorrhaging strength in great waves.
With the males acting as crutches, he hobbled past the doorway, entering the upper level of the building. A secluded haven inaccessible by patrons. The club itself consisted only of the two bottom floors. Thane, Xerxes and Bjorn kept private suites up here. Thane and his wife Elin occupied the biggest one. Xerxes selected the one with the best view, and Bjorn chose the one with a balcony. Staff members lived on the floor below, also inaccessible by patrons.
A wide hallway led to an equally wide elevator, both big enough for their wings. With every step, Bjorn’s feet dragged a little more. Still, he pressed forward, riding the elevator down, down into the dank, musty dungeon. Or rather, Fox’s new—and last—home.
* * * *
Fox awoke with a moan. Her head ached, and the rest of her smarted as if she’d been the gooey center in a seven-car pile-up. What the—?
Memory fragments trickled into her foggy mind…dead Sent Ones… Bjorn… Pain… Darkness. With a gasp, she jolted to an upright position. Ow, ow, ow. The aches worsened, and her stomach twisted.
Swallowing bile, she blinked rapidly, relieved when her vision cleared. The second she spied her surroundings, the relief fled, and horror took over. Mold and old blood decorated walls made of crumbling stone. No windows. The only light spilled from a single overhead bulb, highlighting a dirt floor, a bloodstained cot, and a broken toilet.
Moans of anguish echoed in a continuous stream. The smell of waste, urine and metal stung her nostrils. Beneath the pungent odor of filth, she detected a hint of Bjorn’s scent—rainstorms and sultry summer nights. Fox breathed deeply, savoring. Shivering. Until she remembered she hated him and hoped to strangle him with his own intestines.
No sign of him nearby. Good thing. She might have killed him with her bare hands.
He thinks to torment me before he ends me? Fox fisted her hands.
She had researched Sent Ones. Know
ledge was power, after all, and knowing an opponent’s strengths and weaknesses could save your life in battle. What she knew now? Bjorn could not be swayed from an assigned task. No reason to try.
All she could do? Portal away, regroup, then battle Bjorn again. On her own terms next time.
Very well. Decision made. She would open a portal and return to Galen.
Fox spread and pressed her fingertips together. The ends heated, and she slowly separated her hands. An ember sparked between them. Then another and another until a portal burned through the atmosphere to create a doorway to another world. But, only a split second later, the almost-portal extinguished.
What. The. Hell? For only the fifth time ever—six now—she’d failed to open a portal. Thrice, she’d been too weak from blood loss. Twice, she’d been drugged.
Must escape. Fox didn’t have many fears. But this? Incarceration? This happened to be a big one. Locked up, she controlled no aspect of her life. No control meant no future. Not one worth living, anyway.
If she couldn’t open a portal, a bloodline must be responsible. But how did she get rid of a bloodline? Think, think.
When several minutes passed without a single intelligent thought, she concluded her mind hadn’t shaken off the effects of whatever powder Bjorn had blown into her face. She’d try again in a bit. Meanwhile…
Had her injuries healed? She glanced down her body and cringed. You’ve got to be kidding me. Fox never cared about fashion, but come on! She despised thongs, yet she now wore a pair Galen had given her as a joke, as well as a pink novelty T-shirt with his smiling face in the center, giving a thumb’s up.
For this, I’ll make Bjorn’s death slow and torturous.
Out of habit, she reached for a dagger. Gah! Of course, Bjorn had refrained from loading her up with weapons before he sealed her inside this shithole. At least she was on the road to recovery, each of the cuts and gashes mended. Only a bump on her head remained.
