Soul Enslaved (Sons of Wrath Book 3) (5 page)

Movement at the corner of his eye put his body on alert. Gavin lowered his hammer and turned slowly, coming face to face with three demons whose weaponry told him they weren’t just passing through.

The Nicus in the middle, recognizable by the blue tone of his skin and black scales etched in swirls of his native language, stood flanked by an Aecorisz on the right and a Vitiusz on the left.

All three dangerous breeds.

The Aecorisz had a reddish skin tone and a horn protruding from just above each ear, resembling those of a bull. As for the Vitiusz, who carried the dull gray skin of a zombie and the face of an inbred experiment gone wrong, with small beady eyes, large gums and tiny yellow teeth, it really must have sucked to be him.

Gavin didn’t bother to take his demon form in Obsidius. For the most part, he looked human. Making it much easier to pinpoint the bastards who’d stab him in the back, since the very sight of a human, for some breeds, was enough to prompt a fight.

The Nicus cocked his head to the side and spoke over his shoulder. “Seems we got ourselves a mixed-breed. And here I thought the demon who’d fucked the official’s tazschla was something of a beast.” He leaned forward. “More like a bitch.”

All three of them bore the tattoo of Optevyl—the demon realm equivalent of the KKK, invested in keeping demon breeds pure. In their eyes, half-breeds, mixed-breeds and humans were nothing but slave bait.

One quick sweep sized them up. The disfigured Vitiusz demon carried a spiked chain made of Diablis steel, meaning whatever it grabbed wouldn’t be going anywhere. The Aecorisz demon held a battleaxe that, no doubt, would do some serious damage if it happened to get lodged. The Nicus, in the middle, didn’t need a weapon. Those hellacious claws of his carried the kind of poison that would make even an Enforcer cry like a baby.

Gavin had already plotted out how it would go down.

“Best way to purify the demon race? Beat the fuckin’ mix-breed right out of the bastards.” The Nicus’s face twisted into a smile, revealing browned teeth.

“Not looking to fight anyone.” Gavin rested the hammer on his shoulder. “Just here to do my time.”

A serpentine tongue swept across the Nicus demon’s lips. “What the hell kind of fun is Obsidius, if you can’t take your fucking anger out on the swines who stick their dicks in whatever cunts they feel like and create bastards like yourself?”

The jab against his father should’ve angered Gavin, but considering he’d only met the demon twice in all of his existence, it did little to incite fury.

“Oh, that’s right.” The Nicus continued his heckling. “Your daddy doesn’t stick around after fucking
whores
.”

His mother, on the other hand, was another story.

Gavin flexed his fingers, the urge to punch the shit out of the demon, burning his muscles.

“I hear the other bastard brother of yours is expecting a baby with his human whore.” The Vitiusz demon’s eyes widened with excitement. “Tender veal. I can almost taste that newborn flesh on my tongue. What I wouldn’t give to make your brother watch while I fuck his woman and eat his child.”

Teeth grinding hard enough to shoot pain to his skull, Gavin swung his sledgehammer wide and struck the nuts of the Vitiusz demon. Yanking the chain free, he dodged a swiping claw and wrapped it around the gills of the Aecorisz, before popping the battleaxe free and slicing through the hands of the Nicus.

Boom. Boom. Boom
. One fluid sweep, and all three demons fell to the ground, squirming, kicking, gasping—struggling with their own survival.

“Never talk about my family.” Gavin stood over their twitching bodies, their agonized moans vying for volume with his words. “Consider it mercy that I didn’t send all three of your asses into Stygius.”

A clash of metal from behind had Gavin pivoting, to find the inmate next to him in hand-to-hand battle with a Lubrixhia demon—large, red-skinned beasts, usually dumber than a handful of rocks, but strong as hell.

Gavin snuck up from behind and wrapped the battleaxe around the beast’s neck, strangling him while the other inmate pummeled his gut in a fit of rage, until the beast finally fell. Before Gavin could stop him, the inmate lodged his pickaxe into the demon’s heart, and its scuffling ceased.

Cold, distant eyes of the inmate met Gavin’s.

In ancient demonic, the inmate said the words, “Purge, Purify and Proliferate.” His gaze fell to the tattoo etched into the flesh of all four demons lying on the floor.

The motto of the Optevyl.

Gavin’d seen the symbol before. Because of their violent nature, Obsidius happened to be teeming with the bastards, identified by one all encompassing imprint of a bird, similar to a falcon. Known as a raptorzhus, it was an instant identifier, much like the Nazi symbol for the Klansmen.

“Thanks for having my back.” Holding out a bloodied hand, Gavin pushed to a stand. “What’s your name?”

The inmate didn’t bother to shake his hand. Instead, he dislodged the axe and backed up a step. “Therriun.”

“I’m Gavin.”

“I know.”

A barricade of arms yanked Gavin from behind, strangling his throat as his feet slid against the gravely bed of the cave.

Enforcer
. Only the big burly bastards had enough muscle power to haul a demon off his feet.

Down through the darkness, Gavin was dragged within the Enforcer’s grasp, giving little resistance, aside from the futile grappling at claws, to suck in a breath.

He came to a stop in front of a black iron door. On the other side of it? Madness. Complete sensory deprivation. Gavin had done time in solitary once before, while imprisoned on Logan’s behalf. Obsidius looked down on inmates fighting, particularly those left incapacitated and unable to work. Perhaps the Enforcers didn’t like anyone stealing their thunder.

The door swung open, and a hand shoved Gavin from behind. No indication of how long he’d be in there. No idea what the hell he’d stumbled over—decayed bodies? The smell of blood and excrement clung to what little air permeated the small tomb. Like death.

The door clicked shut.

He slid down against what his hands made out to be the lava stone wall. In the human realm, darkness wasn’t actually absolute. In fact, few places held the kind of darkness achieved in Obsidius. A demon’s eyes couldn’t even discern anything held within it.

The only part about darkness that truly bothered Gavin was what his mind did to him. How many times could a bastard punish himself for being so fucking stupid? One moment of weakness and not even Cefirina could save him from his fate. The woman he’d fucked claimed he’d raped her. Raping a high lord’s tazschla could’ve been punishable by death on the spot, if Gavin hadn’t presented security videos that made the accusation inconclusive. Besides, Gavin’d never raped a woman in his life—never would. It went against every moral fiber of his being. So to be sitting in absolute darkness over a false claim ate at him more than the flesh-eating Sucorosz he felt crawling across his skin.

A flash of light preceded the thud of boots against concrete. He recognized them right away. Every night he’d heard the same sound—Enforcers eager to mete out another punishment. They weren’t merciful or kind, but Gavin had always thought they’d cut him some slack by not killing him off entirely. Something told him whatever mercy they did happen to impart wouldn’t afford him relief any longer. He’d broken one of their laws, which happened to be about as insulting as ripping off one of their masks.

His body flew through the air, the unyielding cement slab slamming into his back and knocking wind from his lungs. Objects around his feet clattered like the bones of the last victim. Probably burned alive with hellsfire.

With all four limbs locked tightly in chains, Gavin could hardly even squirm. Sucking in a breath, he braced himself for the amusement his tormenter was about to get at his expense.

The rustling and zip of clothing could only be his shirt tearing away from his body, as coolness stroked his chest.

A drill buzzed in the silence.

Ah, hell.
Gavin screwed his eyes closed and braced himself.

The drills carried just enough Diablis steel to break a demon’s skin, the bits laced with Demortis. Not enough to kill, but enough to make a bastard
wish
he was dead. Gavin curled his fingers as the drill spiraled into his side.

“
Motherfucker
!”

It vibrated against his ribs, and the burn of the Demortis spread like flames through his blood. He could scarcely draw in breath as his muscles seized.

Drills had always been reserved for the worst kind of torture. Most Enforcers opted for knives and picks. More meticulous cuts to the flesh. Intimate. Drills spilled too much blood, mangling flesh so it couldn’t be repaired properly, and gave Enforcers access to the vulnerable innards of the demon body.

Enforcers never spoke while doling out torture—a trait that made them more frightening, as the victim had no idea whether the pain would abate or continue on forever.

A
slosh
sound rang in Gavin’s ear, as what he presumed to be his flesh tangled in the threads of the bit. The buzz of the drill projected flashes of jagged light behind his clamped eyelids. He clenched his teeth, muscles taut with each pull of meat that spooled over the metal bit. In most cases, Wraths rarely registered pain. Their bodies repaired an assault as fast as it occurred, but Enforcers happened to possess special talents—talents that allowed them to seep into the mind and physical body. Gavin’s brother, Zeke, captured by an Enforcer, had come to know firsthand just how close to death a bastard could get in a state of mental hell, before being yanked back to reality.

Thoughts of Zeke brought resolve. If his brother could endure that level of pain, never knowing if the beast inflicting it would let him walk away, then Gavin could withstand his.

The drill slowed and puttered out. As the Enforcer tugged at it, a crack resonated in Gavin’s ear.
Fuck!
He grunted with the violent wrenching just below his ribs.

Hardly discernible in the darkness, the Enforcer paused, shook the drill and examined it.

Two clawed fingers probed Gavin’s wound, stabbing at his organs like the jab of a serrated ice pick, and he lifted his ass from the concrete, tensing from the agonizing puncture inside his ribcage—like knives scratching against his bone, which was when he felt it. The object lodged deep inside his body. The drill bit had gotten tangled in his muscle.

For fucks sake
.

Hands hefted him onto his side, undeterred by the wrenching of his arms against the binds. Deeper, the finger probed, yanking on the small protrusion of metal.

Poison seeped into his bones until they stiffened and burned as though they’d fracture—agonizing fissures that crawled beneath his skin. “Jesus!”

The Enforcer slammed the drill to the floor, shattering it to pieces in a tune that resembled jacks scattering across the concrete.

Gavin dared a shallow breath through his nose, trying to keep his ribs from expanding and jostling the bit.

As though the beast had suddenly grown bored, Gavin’s back hit concrete again, and the thud of boots signaled its retreat.

With the bit still lodged in his ribs, poison clouded his mind in an attempt to pull him into madness.

The dark tomb shifted, expanded and narrowed in blurred frames, through which faces of Enforcers, the prisoners he’d bested, and his brothers, popped in and out of the blackness.

His brothers.

Could’ve been hours passing in the span of time it took for Gavin to silently chide himself, to ponder all the things he’d miss. Logan’s newborn son, and Gavin’s first time being an uncle. Zeke’s progression. Ferno’s mental state.
Sanctuary
.

Voices erupted from the other side of the door. Arguing. Gavin tried making them out, through the thickness of the iron enclosure. A woman’s voice? Sure, there were women in Obsidius, but they tended to keep to themselves, avoiding conflict and the possibility of rape.

The conversation, impossible to make out, seemed to die down a notch.

Could’ve been a hallucination. Delirium setting in.

The door clicked and light bled into the cell, rendering Gavin momentarily blind. He buried his head in his slung arm to shield his eyes.

“Gavius?” The deep, raspy voice belonged to the warden of Obsidius. A tall, gangly male, well versed in the blackest of magic.

“Yes.”

“You are free.” Two Enforcers entered from behind him, and all four of Gavin’s limbs popped loose.

Free?
Of solitary? Or of this hellhole altogether?
“I’m sorry … what?” His voice strained against the stabbing pain in his side.

“Pack your bags, baby, you’re on your way to Disneyland.” Definitely a female.

“Who … are … you?”

“Nola. I’m a Divine Matron to the succubi. You’ve been summoned for payment.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Like all Divine Matrons, she wore a long, flowy white gown that danced around her thick form—thicker than his own Divine Matron, Ceferina. A soft glow beamed from her dark skin, framed by blonde highlights that’d been laced through shoulder-length black hair. Striking green eyes and her perfect, white teeth stole his focus. “Sabelle wishes to collect on her favor.”

Shit.
Might as well have locked him back up.

A smaller, skinnier male stepped forward. “Can’t this wait until he’s out of solitary? He beat the hell out of three demons and murdered another.”

“I understand the brother needs to learn his ass a lesson, but I’m afraid he’s gonna have to be schooled some other time.” Warm, scratchy hands gripped Gavin’s bicep, and her eyes widened as the female gave them a squeeze. “Damn,” she murmured.

The Aecorisz demon he’d beaten earlier charged forward. “I’m afraid there won’t be another time. Brother Gavin dies tonight.”

He didn’t even get close to Gavin, as the Matron yanked him to the floor and pointed a finger in his face. “I suggest you chill your ass, muthafucka. I am a
Divine
Matron, in case that wasn’t clear by the floating shit I just pulled to get up in here. I got
centuries
on you, son.”