Darkness & Lies: A Brotherhood Novel (#1) (28 page)

As they maneuvered through the long, dark cha
n
nels of underground waterways, Kris looked out across the banks of the river watching the hordes of demons milling about, attacking human bystanders awaiting passage, being attacked by other, bigger demons, and performing menial tasks similar to the tasks they had back in the real world, and had a small inkling of thought. How in the world were they going to find Cheyenne in this place? Not to mention, how were they going to manage hijacking her from a
high-security prison
under the watchful eye of the Devil himself and make it back topside without being murdered
the
m
selves?

Simple, they weren’t. They were dead. She was dead. This was a total lose-lose
situation,
and he shouldn’t be here. Let the deranged warriors next to him run hea
d
long into Hell. They were more equipped for it anyway. Hell, just looking at them anyone with half a brain could see they weren’t normal. No human being could grow that tall and have that much muscle while being so freaking gorgeous it made a straight man like him take notice and look twice and not be otherworldly. He was not meant to be
here.

“Oh, man,” he whimpered under his breath. “What the fuck am I doing here?”

Erias stiffened at hearing Kris speak and immed
i
ately glanced around to make sure no one had noticed. A
f
ter their futile attempt at roping and hogtying the guy, Kris had turned out to be stronger than he
appeared,
and they had decided they were just wasting valuable time trying to di
s
suade him. If he wanted to see Hell, then far be it for them to stand in his way. Besides, he might prove useful as ca
n
non fodder.

Jabbing his elbow into his ribs, Erias spoke from the side of his mouth, careful not to rouse attention. “Unless you want to get us all killed, shut the fuck up.”

He and Behr had expressly gone over the rules. When traveling in Hell never look
at
anyone in the eyes, or eye as it may
be.

Never say God or make any reference to God or even think anything that may be misconstrued as godly, holy, or
angelic,
or having to do with the gods, God, or a
n
gelic beings or places as you never know who may be li
s
tening.

Never stray from the group. If you get lost, it’s your ass and no one is going to come to help you, so you’d better keep up.

No one is your friend down here. Trust no one.

Nothing is as ever as it seems. If you see something out of place, not quite right, or different from the last time you checked, run ‘cause it can’t be anything good.

Never touch the water, wade in the water, drink the water, or look too long at the water. The consequences are dire and need no further explanation than that. Except Kris’s dumb ass had needed further
explanation,
making Erias want to give him an up close and personal experience with it, but reigned himself in and settled for telling him
instead.

Cheyenne probably wouldn’t be too happy to find out he’d tossed her friend into a boiling river of agony.

And one of the biggest no no’s was don’t speak. Don’t utter a word, a sound, a cough; don’t even scratch your ass unless you want to find a group of demons running a train on it. This was not a friendly
domain,
and they didn’t need to call any attention to the fact that they were one of the few living beings among a soulless, eternally hungry group of man eating fiends.

Was that really so hard to understand?

Kris wanted to protest. He wanted to tell Erias and his overbearing, pushy, pompous, narcissistic self to shove it where the sun
didn't
shine, but when he felt the heavy, fetid breath of the thing behind him bearing down on his neck, he could see no reason to argue the point any further.

“Shutting,” he muttered, then immediately fell s
i
lent. The last thing he wanted was to become some fles
h
less troll’s bitch for the rest of eternity. If that meant taking a vow of
silence,
then so be it. Bring on the
quiet.

But it was really hard to stay completely silent when something slithered across your boot and tickled the hairs on your leg. That was real hard to stay quiet about. Kicking his leg out to shake the serpentine creature free, he glanced up to see Erias shooting him a lethal glare. “What?” he mouthed, then went back to staring out across the river banks where a winged creature with scaly orange skin and
blood-red 
eyes beat at an emaciated man with a barbed leather whip, tearing chunks of flesh away with each
lash. 
 

He hoped Cheyenne was grateful
for
his efforts b
e
cause this was no trip to Disney
Land.

Leseot licked his lips clean and grinned wickedly, flashing his serrated teeth at
Cheyenne,
who was hanging limply from her shackles, spent from his last session of to
r
ture. He’d sliced into nearly every inch of flesh on her body with his small, curved
blade, licked
the wounds clean with his spongy black tongue. Then he had done things to her she would be embarrassed and ashamed about if she had any will left in her to care, let alone
live.

“That was…” Leseot searched for words. “Ind
e
scribable.” Coming forward, he planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth then stepped back to survey her. Running his reptilian fingertips over her, he shivered, a small smile of satisfaction playing on his handsome mouth. “By far, you are my favorite pet yet.”

He stepped back further and frowned. With a quick snap of his fingers, she felt her skin ignite with a searing heat as it began stitching itself back together. She would never get used to that sensation.

“Can’t have my pets dying on me.” With that, he turned around, gave Atheros a hot once over that promised his turn would soon come, and disappeared down the hal
l
way, taking all light with him.

Feeling fractionally better now that her skin no longer resembled a flayed fish, Cheyenne tried to find some humor to lighten both their moods.

“Well, I guess it’s my lucky day.” She resisted a groan as she tried to pull herself up the wall and to her feet. For all the healing affects Leseot had granted
her; her
body was still gripped in pain as her muscles spasmed and strained against her bindings. Even her bones hurt. “He forgot to use the pliers this time.”

She was met with nothing but dead air. No doubt Atheros wasn’t feeling too
chipper, but
usually he would
grunt,
or she would catch a small breath of a laugh from him. Not this
time,
though. Leseot’s torture had been pa
r
ticularly brutal
tonight,
and if it hadn’t been for Atheros’s silent support, she wouldn’t have made it. In truth, she wanted to be sick. To throw her guts up all over the stained,
blood-soaked
floor. She could still feel him inside
her,
and her skin crawled at the sensation. She wanted to die. If only she could.

Memories of her and Erias back at the quaint bed and breakfast, in his room, his bed, rolled through her head on an endless loop. He haunted her every waking moment and no matter how mad she had been the last time they had been
together; it
was but a distant memory. It felt like she had been trapped in this place
forever,
and she couldn’t even remember how she came to be here let alone why she was angry with him in the first place. All she knew was she wanted to see him again. Just once before she
died.

But that wasn’t likely to happen. She knew from her time here that Leseot played with his victims for a short time, maybe a week, give or take a couple of days depen
d
ing on if her math was right and depending on how much fun he had with them, then, in the throes of his misguided attempt at passion, he would slaughter them where they hung.

She was already nearing her end. Even though time was hardly relative here, she could tell she had been here
a while
now. She could just feel it. Despite his claims, he was getting bored with
her, had
done just about everything his depraved mind could come up with to
her,
and she had no misconceptions that he would soon dispose of
her.

It pained her to know that her only source of co
m
panionship here, Atheros, would more than likely go before her. He had been here before she came along, suffering the nightly abuse alone. And now she would soon take his place, going it alone, until she too would be released from this nightmare.

Maybe that’s why he was so solemn tonight. Was he thinking about the end? Or maybe how he would meet his end? That was always a toss–up, how Leseot would kill you. Would he tear you to shreds with his teeth? His talon–like nails? Would he carve you up like a Thanksgiving Day turkey? Or would he just gut you like a fish?  It was hard to say since he was always coming up with something new. She could still hear the screams of the dead as they met their end.

Still, an unexplainable panic set in at the deafening silence. She needed to know he was still with her. She wasn’t ready to lose him yet.

Praying he would respond because she didn’t think she could survive without him, she whispered into the dark, ominous cell.

“Are you okay, Atheros?”

Chapter 22

Erias gave a fleeting glance over his shoulder to see Charon navigating his boat down the narrow canal and back into The Marsh. They stood on the sandy banks where the river Phlegethon and Styxx merged. Tartarus was but a speck in the distance.

“It will take hours to trek the distance.” Behr a
s
sessed their surroundings and readied his blades. “But it can be done.” He said the last bit more for himself than a
n
ything. This trip was near but
impossible,
and it would take nothing short of a miracle to pull it off and escape
u
n
scathed.

He looked to the human boyfriend, Kris. He was sweating
profusely,
and skin was sporting a ghostly pallor. The conditions of the place were such that no mere mortal could handle its intensely horrific confines for long if they lacked a strong soul. It would slowly eat away at their san
i
ty until they were but a reflection of who they once
were.

That was of course if they weren’t eaten by the damned creatures that dwelled here first.

Behr looked at Erias and tipped his head toward Kris. “He’ll be lucky if he makes it. Even luckier if they don’t smell him first.”

Erias cringed inside but remained staunch on the outside. It would do no good
allowing
the protective em
o
tions he was feeling to overtake him. It wasn’t something he had allowed in
centuries,
and it wasn’t something that helped the cause. In fact, as a warrior, it was absolutely critical that he
remained
impassive, disconnected. To be an
y
thing else invited problems,
pain.

Even as he thought it, he knew he was just fooling himself. There was something there, a connection between him and Cheyenne. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, tre
k
king through the depths of Hell to rescue one insignificant woman from the clutches of evil. In the grand scheme of things what difference did it make if she was lost to the u
n
derworld?

The fact
was; it
did matter. To
him.

He studied Kris and his chalky complexion. The guy really didn’t look good. In
fact,
he looked like he might…

“Aw shit!” Behr leapt back as Kris blew, splattering the ground with a colorful array of last night’s dinner. Behr, covering his mouth and nose with one large hand, turned ten shades of green as he turned away from the mess. And the smell.

Good Lord.
The stench hit Erias right in the face and knocked him back a few steps. It was worse than the smell of burnt flesh and rotting corpses they’d had to e
n
dure on the ferry ride over. Of course that was probably why he was losing his dinner all over his Chucks right now.

“When you’re finished”—Erias pulled out a glea
m
ing dagger and studied his reflection in the blade—“we’ll get moving. It will be nightfall soon and trust
me; you
don’t want to hang around for the festivities.”