Dreams of a Dark Warrior (25 page)

“They wil be,” he bit out, the harshest tone he’d taken with the man since that first night in the hospital.

A long pause fol owed. “Look, son, guarding the monstrous ones is relatively easy. It’s far more difficult to guard the innocent-faced ones, the beautiful ones. The ones that sound like us, dress like us, mimic

our species in every way. They cal to our sympathy. You’re there because you have no sympathy.

You’re devoid of emotions like that.”

Declan’s mind flashed back to his training—the intermittent sleep and food deprivation, the combat

simulation with live rounds and no pul ed strikes. He remembered the butt of a rifle slamming into his

temple as his commander yel ed,
“You’re more of a monster than the creatures out there. …”

At seventeen, he’d been shown photos of what detrus did to mortals. Hour after hour of grisly images

for days. No sleep. In the end, his bloodshot eyes had rol ed back in his head, and he’d col apsed.

To this day, I punish myself with photos. …

“They’l fil you with doubt,” Webb continued, “make you question your mission. Is it already happening?”

Making his voice like steel, he said, “Absolutely not, sir.” He refused to elaborate, refused to try to

convince Webb to see that he was stil solid.

He remained staunch, his hatred stoked as hot as ever.

“Good.” Webb exhaled a relieved breath. “In any case, I’m arriving next week.”

Next bloody week? No! Not that soon.
But knowing it was inevitable, Declan said, “Very good, sir.”

Have to beat this obsession with the Valkyrie.
Webb would see through Declan’s indifferent guise in a heartbeat.

“I look forward to viewing the new addition to your col ection. Is everything on schedule for Malkom

Slaine’s capture?”

My next acquisition.
Slaine was a vampiric demon, a
made
immortal creature. Through some unknown ritual, a demon could be poisoned with a vampire’s blood, gifting it with the strengths of both species.

Col oquial y known as vemons, they were rumored to be the most powerful of the beings in the Lore,

stronger even than a Lykae in his prime.

There were only four known vemons alive. Declan wanted to destroy them and forever bury the

knowledge of their genesis.

“We’ve set the plan in motion.” Declan had dispatched Carrow the witch to Slaine’s home—a hel plane

cal ed Oblivion—in order to lure him into a trap. In return, he’d promised to free her and her young cousin.

An easy lie. After his hel ish entrancement, Declan held a singular hatred for witches. And the young

one had already kil ed twenty soldiers with her unearthly powers.

Carrow was due back in less than a week. He gave her a six-in-ten chance of succeeding.

“Everything’s on schedule, sir.”

“Excel ent. And while I’m there, you and I are going to take some time off. We’l have a proper visit

outside of work and al this madness.”

To talk about sports and women?
Declan had no life outside of work. None. Stil he said, “I look

forward to it.”

Once they hung up, Declan glanced around his chamber. This room represented his entire life outside

of his job. The facility itself was his life’s work. Now he was in jeopardy of losing it al .

Truly, how much is there to lose, Dekko?
No family, no friends. No woman of his own.

No peace. For as long as Declan could remember, he’d craved some kind of ease inside himself.

Though he’d never experienced it, he could somehow
imagine
what it would feel like not to know constant misery.

Declan had seen men with an expression that said
All is right in the world,
had envied them their contentment. His own da had had that confident, satisfied mien. At least, before Declan had started

having nightmares as a boy. Once he’d begun running with that gang at fourteen, his da never had it

again.

Listening to the Valkyrie’s tales, simply being near her, was the closest Declan had ever come to it.

And tonight’s dream …

His mind whispered,
Why not enjoy her?

No! She was undermining his resolve. And with that fal would go any pride he’d managed to salvage

over the last twenty years. Whatever power she wielded, he would resist it.

Another of those creatures control ing him again?
Never.

She would not break him. His wil was stronger than hers. Than anyone’s.

I’ll break
her.

And
that
was the reason—the only one—that he stil burned to see her.

TWENTY-ONE

Y
ou’ve, uh, used al your dares, ma’am,” Thad murmured.

“And you’ve used al your truths, Tiger,” Natalya countered throatily. “So ask me a truth.”

It’s too early in the morning for this,
Regin thought, bemoaning her second week in this hel hole. She lay on the top bunk, trying to ignore the latest episode of
Good Boy Gone Bad,
guest-starring Natalya, whose voice had turned porn-queenesque.

And Thad truly was a good boy. Over these unending days, he’d proved to be both affable and kind. At

least when not faced with mind-bending sights like the Cerunnos or bewinged and behorned demons.

He’d also proved curious. A typical conversation between him and Regin:

“Is there a drinking age in the Lore?”

“Nope. Your high-school self can get slizzard on Zimas every night.”

“Is there marriage?”

“Wel , sometimes. It’s species-dependent, I guess.”

“Church?”

“Define
church
.”

But he was starting to flag, with shadows under his eyes, and he’d lost weight. He ate none of the slop

the Order served him and Natalya. His jeans hung on his lanky frame, his build morphing from footbal

player to marathon runner.

Ultimately, Regin had concluded that he was part leech, a halfling vamp, because while Natalya had

been busy monitoring Thad’s sleep woodies
—“Two words, Valkyrie: nocturnal emission. Just kidding,

but I got you to look!”
—Regin had been noticing another part of him giving a salute.

His fangs had lengthened and retracted at intervals. The sweet kid who’d barely been broken of cal ing

them Ms. Natalya and Ms. Regin was a leech, or part one?

Regin’s beloved niece Emma was half vamp, half Valk, but Emma could never go out in the sun as

Thad obviously could. So what was the kid’s other half?

And why do I still like him?

First Emma. Now Thad. Regin was sick and tired of non-evil vampiric creatures messing with her

mil ennium’s worth of scathing animosity for their species. …

“A truth, then?” Thad asked Nat. “So how many guys, uh, you know—”

“Have I bedded? I’m centuries old, you remember, so if I ‘went steady’ with one guy every six months,

wel … you get the picture. I wouldn’t say an army’s worth, but definitely several battalions. Care to

enlist?” Over Thad’s embarrassed stammering, she said, “And how many girls have you enjoyed, Tiger?”

Regin could
hear
him blushing.

“I’ve had tons of girlfriends,” he said. “I
am
a quarterback, you know. I chase tail al the time.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

In a low tone, he admitted, “Between footbal and Eagle Scouts, I haven’t had time to find, you know, the

right
girl.”

Natalya sighed. “How utterly irresistible of you. Now that you’ve found her, I dare you to lose the jeans.”

He choked out, “Ma’am?”

Thaddeus Brayden, worshipped as a footbal god in his smal Texas town of Harley, had obviously

never encountered a female like Natalya. “Of course we should share a bunk,” the fey had purred this

morning. “I’m nothing more than a fairy godmother. If we share a bed, I can make
all
your wishes come true.”

Regin turned a blind eye—because everyone in this cel might be executed at any time. And because

she’d forgotten she wasn’t a moral person who wouldn’t give a shit if the virginal Thad got it on with

Natalya.

Just wait till I’m asleep.
In the meantime, she stared at the ceiling, mul ing over her own situation with Chase.

After their fight last week, Chase had ignored her, letting her languish in her cel . She had no idea

where she stood with him or how close he was to remembering her, to kissing her.

This mul ing sucked. Regin didn’t introspect; she acted. Sometimes she got it right, oftentimes she

didn’t, and she’d never real y figured out how to differentiate between the two.

Because she didn’t fucking introspect.

Now apparently she was going to contend with some kind of
internal struggle.
Some kind of on-the-

one-hand type crisis. Like the ones her sisters routinely went through.

The ones Regin mocked.

She simply didn’t
have
them. She did whatever she wanted to do, and she slept wel at night.

Regin muttered, “
Balls
.” Then she final y surrendered to it:

On the one hand, her big berserker had returned to her, and her memories of their times together were

burning hot.
Each day I’ll love you more than the one before…

On the other hand, how could she let this misery go on? Her friends, old and new, were suffering.
Like
Carrow.

The grapevine had been abuzz with gossip about her, rumors that Regin prayed were untrue. Word

held that Chase had forced the witch to travel to the demon plane of Oblivion—a.k.a., hel —to use her

wiles and trap a brutal vampire demon. Or else Chase would kil another prisoner.

Carrow’s seven-year-old cousin, a little girl named Ruby.

The Order had captured Ruby—after murdering the child’s mother. At that news, Regin had heaved,

nearly vomiting energy—

She tensed when she heard Dixon’s heels clacking down the corridor.
Evil Order employees going

about their evil daily business.

Regin hadn’t thought anything could be worse than Fegley’s bel igerent visits, but Dixon had edged him

out for prize asshole.

Watching the woman pine for Chase made Regin il . As if those two would ever have a shot.

Even worse was when Dixon gazed
at Regin
. Like the woman hungered to examine her.

It gave Regin the creeps. She wasn’t a puss by any means, but the threat of vivisection was real y

starting to get to her. Prisoners went off to those labs one way, and they came out another.
Altered
. …

She’d just heard Thad’s audible swal ow and a whispered, “My jeans
completely
off?” when two guards arrived at the cel .

Regin leapt from the bunk. Had Chase sent for her?
Or am I about to be vivisected?

One guard said, “Here for Brayden. We’re moving him.”

Thad shot to his feet, his eyes panicked. He subtly reached for Natalya’s hand.

“There, lad. It’l be okay.”

Regin couldn’t say she was surprised by this transfer. Not many of the other cel s were coed, from

what she’d seen.

The second guard said, “Are you looking for this to be a gas extraction, or are we al going to play

nice?”

She and Natalya shared a look. They both knew resisting the guards would be useless. Plus, it’d

probably freak Thad out even more.

Regin shook her head. “Just be cool, kid. Remember, I’m not leaving this place without you.”

Natalya added, “Same here. You have my word.” Then she reluctantly pul ed free her hand.

As the guards led him away toward the entrance of the corridor, Thad craned his head over his

shoulder, keeping them in his sights for as long as possible.

Regin swal owed. His eyes had been glinting at the end.

She turned to Natalya, who looked bereft. “Come on, Nat, we both knew he’d get sent back to the

minors. I’ve been expecting them to separate him from us ever since he woke from his stupor.”

“Doesn’t mean I like it. …”

Hours later, they heard gasps from inmates up-corridor from them. She and Natalya ran to the glass in

time to see the same two guards dragging by Thad’s limp body, on their way to the opposite end of the

ward.

He was soaking wet and shaking, his pupils the size of saucers. “They told me I’m a vampire,” he

mumbled to Regin and Natalya. “Now you’l w-want to kil me. …” His head lol ed as he fel unconscious.

Screaming obscenities at the guards, Natalya slammed her hands on the glass, spitting and kicking,

her irises gone black with fury. Regin shrieked right beside the fey, her hands bal ed into fists so tight that blood dripped to the floor. She was murderously enraged that Thad had been hurt—and that Chase had