Inferno of Darkness (Order of the Blade #8) (12 page)

For a split second, real hope flared in her heart, hope that maybe, somehow, this whole nightmare could turn out okay. Dante had accomplished the impossible before. Why not one more time? But even as she thought it, she knew it was a lost hope. Some things took more than courage and strength, no matter how much of it one had. There was no easy answer to what they were facing. Even now, she could feel the swirling energy of the sword still summoning Dante, like a relentless pulsing that would not be denied.

"A kid was dropped through the grill one night," Dante said, answering her question as he entwined his fingers with hers and pressed a kiss to each of her knuckles, as if trying to ground himself in their present instead of his past. His gaze flicked restlessly toward the sword, and then he blinked in surprise. "It moved."

She looked over and saw that the sword had indeed pried itself free of the tree, and it was now back in its pool, lying in wait for Dante, summoning him. The fact that it had returned to its place of power was indicative of just how strong it was. She knew he was feeling its compulsion. Grimacing, she touched Dante's arm, trying to draw his focus away from it. "Tell me about this boy?"

Dante dragged his gaze off the sword and looked at her, his face grim. "He was skinny, maybe fifteen years old at most, by far the youngest person I'd ever seen in there. He was unconscious and half-dead, and the crew converged upon him. He was going to be dinner in a second."

A child had been sent into that hell? A child who had been gifted with Dante as a protector. It made her sad, so sad, to know that some of the darkness she lived with in the queen's realm gripped the earth as well…except that men like Dante were there to stop it from taking over. She snuggled closer to him. "You protected him." It wasn't a question. She knew the answer.

Dante shrugged and looped his free arm around her, tucking her closer against him. He rested his head against hers, watching as she played with his fingers. It was an intimate, peaceful moment, despite the topic. It was almost as if their mingled presence could ward off the darkness of their lives. "He was a kid. He deserved a chance, so yeah, Rohan and I stood guard. It took him almost two months to wake up."

"Two months? Was he in a coma or something?"

"I don't know. He never moved, but we could tell he was still breathing. Then one day..." He paused, as if he were reliving the event. "A major storm rolled through the area. Ten minutes into it, the kid woke up. Just opened his eyes and looked at Rohan and me. He said one word, 'Help,' and pointed at the side of the pit. We grabbed him, hauled him to his feet, and dragged him over to the wall. He slammed his hands onto it, and then the storm unleashed its fury right down into the pit. Lightning. Thunder. Rain. Wind. Then the entire place crumbled. The earth literally gave out and buried every person, except for Rohan, the kid, and me. When it was over, the pit was open to the sky, and the grate was gone. The kid turned to us and told us his name was Vaughn. He thanked us for protecting him, and then hauled ass up the rocks and disappeared. We went up after him, and that was it. We were out, and he was gone."

"He saved you, as you saved him." Tears brimmed in her eyes for these warriors who had stood beside each other even when surrounded by the dregs of survival, by a life that allowed for no compassion. Warriors who had retained their humanity despite all they'd endured…exactly as she'd fought so hard to do in her own life, refusing to succumb to the darkness that surrounded her.

Dante shook his head. "Maybe. I don't know. I've replayed that night in my head a thousand times, and I'm still not sure what happened, or whether he caused it." He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, and then gently brushed it back from her face, a gesture so tender she wanted to cry. "But when I got out that night, I didn't even care. I was just so damn happy to be free. I can't even tell you what it was like to breathe fresh air again, and to feel the wind on my face."

She smiled in understanding. "I know, because that's what I felt like when I arrived here. It's incredible. I don't think you can appreciate the simplicity of freedom until you've suffered." She relaxed against him and rested her hand on his leg, needing to hear the rest of his story, somehow needing to understand the complexity of what drove this man that was so pivotal to the future of the earth. "So, that's when you went after your father?"

He nodded. "When I found him, he struck first. He didn't wait to find out why I was there. He just tried to kill me." He gave a bitter laugh. "One hundred years in the pit made me a better opponent than he was anticipating. Score one for the underachieving son."

She smiled sadly for the small victories in his life. "That's when he cursed you?"

"Yeah. I didn't get the chance to talk to him much. He was carrying a sword I hadn't seen before, and that's what he used. The sword was curved with rubies in the handle." He raised his brows. "Sound familiar?"

She shook her head. "Was he with anyone?"

"Alone. I don't know what he'd been doing that whole time, though."

Elisha bit her lip in frustration. How had his father gotten that cursed sword? "What happened next?"

Dante shrugged. "After I killed him, I hunted down every other member of the Order. After you've killed once, it gets easier." He held out his hands, as if showing her the blood he could still see on them. "I killed them as ruthlessly as they had killed so many others. I did my job, Elisha. I shut down my emotions so I could kill them all in cold blood. One by one, I watched them die, all to save the innocents. I stood over their bodies, and I didn't care." His voice was grim, weighted, and she knew he was lying to himself when he'd claimed not to care.

It had affected him deeply to have killed so many men that had been a part of his life, including his father. "You do care," she said softly. "And it's okay."

"No. I can't afford to care," he said wearily. "Don't you get it? A warrior has to be ruthless and cold, focused on what he has to do. When they care, about a woman, about power, about revenge, that's when they become vulnerable to corruption."

"It's not true. If you care, that makes you stronger. That's why you could kill your own father, because you
do
care about the right things. You cared about him, but you cared more about the people he was hurting. If you care, then you make the right choice, no matter how difficult it is."

"Really?" He turned toward her suddenly, his eyes blazing with frustration and exhaustion. "And what's the right choice this time, Elisha? Killing you to keep the earth safe? Really? I'm supposed to destroy the one good thing I've ever found in my life? Because, I'll tell you, keeping you alive is what I care about now. Not doing the right thing. I want to use my power to save
you.
I'm not man enough to make the choice to sacrifice you to save the world." He bowed his head, fisting his hands until the muscles in his shoulders bulged. "I can't do this anymore," he whispered. "I'm done killing. I'm done making that choice. I can't sit here and shut it down anymore. I can't be the focused, stoic warrior that I have to be." He ran his hand through his hair in an anguished move. "You can't die. Others can't die." He raised his head, and she saw the stark anguish in his eyes. "The one thing I swore to do was to make the world safe for innocents. Destroying the sword is the last thing I have to do before I die, and I can't do it, because I can't hurt you."

His voice almost broke with the anguish of his words, his pain was so great. Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. "I don't want to die either," she whispered. "Not since I met you. It's so much harder when you care. I know it is."

Her confession seemed to deflate him, and he sank back on his heels and closed his eyes, as if willing control back into his body. Together, they sat in silence, each of them trying to catch their breath. Finally, Dante opened his eyes. They were blood-shot and turbulent. "I can't let the earth be destroyed."

She shook her head. "No, we can't."

"I can't sacrifice you."

Fresh tears brimmed. "Dante, we have to do what's right. It's not about us. This is bigger than us—"

"No. I'm tired of everything being bigger than what I want." He fisted his hand, and then there was a crack and a flash of black light. His spear appeared in his hand, and he laid it on the ground. "No more innocents die because of my choices. No more sacrifice for the greater good. No more of my father's values."

She bit her lip to fight back the words her heart wanted to say. She wanted to fall into his arms, to hide from the choices they had to make, and to let this man who was saying such incredible words have what he wanted, because it was what she wanted, too. "It's not your father's values," she said. "It's the mission of the Order. It was distorted by your father, but it is right. Sometimes those choices have to be made—"

"No!" With a roar of outrage, he grabbed the spear and hurled it across the clearing. It slammed into a rock and buried itself deep into the granite boulder. He whirled around to face her, his muscles vibrating with tension. "There was no way out of that pit, and we found one. So, we're going to find another way this time as well."

She wanted to cover her ears and protect herself from his words. "Stop it! It's not fair to either of us to create false hope. There isn't a chance for a happy ending—"

He grabbed her shoulders, his eyes blazing. "You don't get it, Elisha. I can't let one more innocent die. Not you. Not the world. It will destroy me. It ends now.
There has to be another way.
"

Frustration tore through her. "What way, Dante? Do you have another Vaughn who can show up and bring down the sky? Or Rohan, who will stand by your back and cheer you to victory? Because if there's a way, I'm game, but not at the risk of destroying the earth—" She stopped, startled by the sudden look of shock on Dante's face. "What?"

"Rohan," he whispered. "
Rohan.
" There was sudden, desperate hope on his face. "He was able to train me on the protective runes because Calydons are driven by demon magic. Rohan can manipulate it. He has a connection to the nether-realm. What if he can help us? What if he can read the sword?"

Hope leapt through her. Was there really someone who could help them? "Read it? What do you mean?"

"He's a seer, Elisha. He can see the future, and other possibilities." He slammed his fist into his palm, excitement rippling off him. "He might be able to help. Or..." He cut himself off, staring grimly at her.

The hope that had alighted in her heart crashed just as quickly at Dante's expression. "Or
what
?"

"Or he might kill you on sight."

Elisha tensed. "Why?"

"Because you're of the nether-realm, or beyond it. He has little tolerance for that kind of darkness." He gritted his teeth and turned away, swearing under his breath. "He's sworn to protect the earth from the nether-realm. You are that which he lives to destroy."

Well, that was just not helpful. "Then we can't do it. We can't call him." She shook her head. "It's not worth the risk. I need to stay alive to stop you if you won't destroy the sword."

"To stop me?" With a low growl, Dante swung around, grabbed her by the wrist, and yanked her against him.

She stiffened at the feel of his bare chest against hers, but at the same time, need for him flooded her so intensely she sucked in her breath. It hadn't been sated by their lovemaking, or by the weight of their reality. Simply being in his arms again made desire pour over her just as strongly. In truth, it had become more intense, more powerful, and more ruthless. His eyes churned with desire, and she felt his cock rise hard and fast against her belly, making desire roil through her.

Whatever was between them was mutual, and dangerous. Between the sword and his own need for her, the danger was mounting, drawing them ruthlessly closer to the vortex of doom. "Tell me, Elisha, could you really kill me? Can you? If I walked up there, shredded the veil, and then stood aside to let the worlds collide, would you kill me?"

She stared at him, horrible emotions warring within her. Could she really kill him? Could she really sink her dagger into his chest? She had to. That was why she'd come, to stop the sword's chosen from wielding it. Silently, wordlessly, she nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "If that is what it takes, then yes."

"Yes?" Betrayal darkened his eyes, and guilt tore at her. "The woman who burns in my veins so fiercely could kill me? Do I not burn in yours?"

"Yes, yes, but—"

"The
sheva
bond," he growled. "They are fated to bond," he recited as he slid his hand over her lower back and pulled her more tightly against him. "Once that bond is complete, he will go rogue, and the only one who can stop him is his
sheva
, who will kill him." He looked at her. "You would kill me? To stop me? Just like a
sheva.
"

"I'm not your
sheva,
but yes, I would." But even as she said her strong words, the truth ate at her soul, and she shook her head in despair. "I don't know," she admitted. "I might simply stand there while you brought down the veil. I don't know if I can kill you anymore, even to save the earth."

Her words hung like a dark threat between them.

"I can't resist the sword forever," he said, looking over his shoulder at the weapon. "It will summon me, and I will take it to the veil. If I'm unable destroy it because I won't sacrifice you, and you won't kill me either, then it wins."

Elisha swallowed, the reality of their situation staring at her too vividly. "So, we have only one chance."

Dante nodded grimly as he called his spear back from the boulder. It thudded into his hand, and he gripped it tightly. "We must call Rohan."