The Crossing (Immortals) (31 page)

Level Five wasn't ladies' lingerie, but there was certainly a
lot of naked flesh on display. Unfortunately, that flesh was
hairy, sweaty, bulging, and male. Mac would've paid good
money not to have seen it.

The aftereffects of his exchange with the gum-chewing
demon still burned in his gut. Despite what he'd told
Artemis, the drain of three hundred years of life essence
hadn't been a picnic. The resulting surge of death magic
had rubbed his soul raw. He'd felt his power growing, and
then he'd felt something else. Artemis, trying to dismantle
the death shield she'd put on his soul. His heart had taken
a hit then. He'd almost called her on it, but then, abruptly,
she'd pulled back and the spell had gone uncast.

But she was up to something. Something he was damned
sure he wasn't going to like.

Bugger it all. He should have taken his mother's advice
and gone for a nice Sidhe girl. If he had, he wouldn't be
here now, in Hell's Level Five, watching naked, snarling
corpses beat each other into bloody lumps.

The dead men wrestled in pairs, atop shoulder-high
floating stages, to the wild delight of an audience of lesser
demons crowded on the floor below. Standing in the shadows at the rear of the crowd, wrapped in a tight death
glamour, Artemis and Mac endured wave after wave of the
combatants' rage. The foul emotion was so strong it nearly knocked Mac off his feet. He didn't need to ask
Artemis what earthly sin was punished on this level. It was
all too obvious: wrath.

"How-" What Artemis was about to say was lost in the
blare of a loudspeaker.

"Demons and ghouls! Your attention please! Now appearing in ring thirteen-Hell's newest gladiators! The
Basher aaaaaand... Leprechaun!"

Mac angled his gaze toward a square platform, ringed
with ropes, hovering about fifty feet away. The Basher was
a massive male corpse-at least seven feet of solid muscle.
Leprechaun, a lean, snarling dead man who stood no
higher than his opponent's navel, put Mac in mind of a vicious dog. At the clang of a bell, the combatants emerged
from their respective corners, amid the roaring approval
of the crowd.

For several moments the pair circled, spitting insults.
Then the Basher hit a nerve.

"Whatcha gonna do, little man? Bite my kneecap?"

"Damn right." Leprechaun bared his teeth and flew at
the Basher's knees, slamming skull into bone with a sickening crunch.

"Oof!" The Basher toppled, hitting the stage so hard
the platform tilted.

The crowd went wild.

The Basher heaved to his feet, spewing curses. Leprechaun dodged, but not quickly enough. The Basher
clamped one arm around his head, squeezing until the little man's eyes had all but popped out of his skull. Leprechaun clawed at the Basher's forearm, gasping.

Similar scenes played out on each of the other floating
platforms. Hatred rolled over the audience in visible
waves, like steam from a garbage pit. The sea of demon
spectators cheered. How the bloody hell were he and
Artemis to get through the lot of them undetected?

A new wave of anger rolled and struck. Instinctively, the dark stain on Mac's soul responded with a hit of pure
adrenaline. Raw excitement pumped through Mac's veins.
His soul-darkness, enhanced by the gum-chewing demon's
kiss, soaked up the anger in the air. It seeped into his body
and his mind.

He rounded on Artemis. So she thought to doublecross him, did she? He stared at her. Her hair, wet with
perspiration, was plastered against her scalp. Her shirt was
soaked, clinging to every curve. His gaze absorbed the
shadow of her bra beneath wet cotton. One thin black
strap was visible on her bare shoulder.

The sight made him go rock-hard. "Let's have sex."

She gaped at him. "What?"

"You heard me. Let's do it. Now. Here. Take off your
jeans."

"You're out of your mind!"

"Why? We did it in the elevator. You liked that well
enough." He grabbed her lovely arse in both hands and
pulled her flush against his body, groin to groin. Yes. He
ground his erection against her mound.

Gods, she felt good. And she'd feel that much better, once
he had her naked. He'd throw her down on the ground,
right here, and drill her in front of all these demons.

Instead of disgusting him, as it certainly should have,
the thought only inflamed Mac's lust. He wasn't himself;
that much he realized even through the slough of death
magic clogging his senses. He couldn't seem to care.

He sank his teeth into Artemis's neck and tasted blood.
"Get naked. Now. Or I'll do it for you."

"Mac-" Artemis's struggles only succeeded in making
him harder. "Let me go! You don't really want to do this.
That's the demon's kiss talking."

"No, it's not. I wanted to screw you from the first moment I saw you. No," he amended. "Even before that. The
first time I felt your magic. And all your backstabbing
since then has only gotten me hornier." He grasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. The fear in her eyes
made him go even harder. "Shall I prove it to you, love?"

"No. You're hurting me. Let me go."

His hands went to the waistband of her jeans, springing
the snap. "You owe me this, Artemis. You know you do.
After what you tried to do in that stairwell-"

Her eyes flared with alarm. Her voice took on a desperate
note. "I... I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Do you think I'm stupid, Artemis?"

"No. Of course not. But... this isn't you, Mac. This
place-it's getting to you. You're new to death magic. You
don't know how to control it."

"I don't want to control it." He ripped at her zipper and
shoved his hands down her pants. "It feels too good. You
feel too good."

"No-"

She tried to twist out of his grip. He didn't allow it. Her
fist swung at his head. He grabbed her wrist. She bit off a
spell word, one that should have knocked him on his arse.
He laughed as he flicked it aside. With one swift, brutal
motion, he yanked down her pants.

Mac watched the struggle as if outside himself, looking
down at a foreign being. Death magic had taken control
of his mind, his muscles, his soul-he barely recognized
himself in the cruel man assaulting Artemis. Vainly, the
part of his psyche that was still linked to light and life
fought to gain the upper hand.

It was losing the battle.

Twisting Artemis's arm, he forced her to the ground.
He'd dropped the death glamour minutes before; now the
closest demons had begun to take note of their struggle.
Red, glowing eyes turned on them. Drooling mouths
opened wide and cheered.

He came down on top of her, hands roaming under her
shirt. She thrashed violently, kicking and biting, balling
her fists and striking anywhere she could reach. Her tears brought a sick pleasure to the dark recesses of his soul.
Death magic had overwhelmed his being; the light inside
him had gone dim. He had to be inside her. Now.

He fumbled with his belt, then went to work on the zipper of his jeans. Artemis had gone very, very still. She
stared up at him through a wash of tears. "Mac. No...

Her gaze flicked behind him. Her eyes went wide.

A hot hand gripped Mac's shoulder. Mac's life essence
rushed to the point of contact like iron shards to a magnet.
Pure malevolence sapped strength from his body. Power
hemorrhaged from his soul. A measure of sanity returned,
slamming into his fogged brain like a demented freight
train.

He
stared
down
at
Artemis.
She
was
half
naked
and
shivering with fear. He'd done that to her. Gods in Annwyn, what was happening to him?

Slowly, he took his hands from her. She scrambled to
her feet, sobbing as she yanked up her jeans.

The next instant, Mac found himself lifted into the air,
and set on his feet. His gaze collided with Malachi's smug
sneer.

"You," Mac spat.

"Yes. It is I.And just in time, I think." He smiled thinly.
"I did not give you permission to use my whore."

Mac's gaze shot to Artemis. He didn't care what she'd
tried to do in the stairwell-after what he'd almost done
to her, she should have been looking at him with pure hatred. She wasn't. Guilt shone in her beautiful dark eyes.
He didn't have to wonder why. It was clear enough what
she'd done.

Malachi's arm encircled her waist. She stiffened, but did
nothing to escape the possessive embrace. Artemis had
cast her lot with a demon. Not with Mac.

"You knew he'd be here," Mac said. "You tried to dismantle my shielding, so as to make things easier for him."

"Oh, Mac." Her throat worked. "I'm sorry. He... he
threatened to kill Zander. There was nothing you or I
could have done to stop him."

"You don't think much of my power, do you?"

Her silence was answer enough.

A primal roar from stage thirteen broke into their exchange. The crowd responded with an answering roar.
The Basher, battered and missing a good chunk of torso,
heaved Leprechaun's bloodied body over his head. With a
snarl, the wrestler launched his defeated opponent into
the crowd.

The body landed with a thud at Malachi's feet. Malachi
toed it with an air of disgust.

"Weak bastard. Get up and get out of my sight."

With a groan, Leprechaun half crawled, half scrambled
into the crowd, demons clawing him as he disappeared.

"He'll fight again," Malachi said with a laugh. "It's his
eternal punishment. But right now, the Basher is in need
of a new opponent, and I think you will do quite nicely."

In the next instant, Mac found himself atop stage thirteen, facing the Basher. A cold, deadly fury, unlike anything he'd ever experienced took hold.

The Basher jeered, pawing the ground like a bull.
Smoke poured from his nose and ears. His eyes glowed a
deep, unholy red. And Mac's rage-enflamed brain registered one sobering fact.

The Basher wasn't a corpse. He was a demon.

The creature charged. Mac shifted his stance, whipping
up a blast of hellfire into the Basher's face. The demon
howled his fury and countered with a hot blast to Mac's
chest. Mac staggered back. The pain was blinding.

Foul words sprang into Mac mind and erupted from his
lips. A short, brutal death spell caught his opponent
squarely in the gut. The Basher crashed to the ground,
twitched once, then lay still.

Victory. But the winning spell had cost Mac dearly.
Artemis's shielding on his soul had broken wide open.
White sparks poured through the fissure and floated over
the audience. Shrieking demons clawed each other in an
attempt to snatch Mac's life essence.

Mac staggered backward. His limbs refused to obey his
mental commands. His legs buckled, and the platform
rushed up to meet him.

He landed hard. He raised his head almost immediately,
his gaze seeking and finding Artemis. She stood at Malachi's
side, rigid, anguished. Gods in Annwyn. If only she'd had
more faith in him. But then, if she had, maybe that faith
would have been misplaced. After all, he'd lost the fight.

For the first time in his life, Mac felt immeasurably old.

Malachi's teeth flashed in a grin. His charcoal suit was
crisp and unruffled, the Windsor knot of his tie a perfect
square. Every strand of dark, shining hair lay precisely in
place.

The demon extended a casual finger. A thin beam of red
light arched from the tip, striking the center of Mac's chest.

"Aaaaaaah." He couldn't suppress a howl of agony. The
searing hot bolt drilled into his soul, sucking life essence
like a siphon hose. Faintly, he heard Artemis sobbing, but
his vision had blurred and he couldn't make out her face.

Malachi's sneer found him. "Not so proud now, are we,
Sidhe?"

Light and life continued to drain from Mac's soul. The
pain was unbearable. Would it ever stop? Perhaps not; his
essence was infinite. Was this to be his fate? An eternity of
helpless humiliation, here in Hell, at the hands of death?

How had he ever thought death could be beautiful?
There was nothing beautiful about this. It was ugly. Worse,
it had the taint of finality. Perhaps death, not life, was the
ultimate victor. Life was the travesty, the aberration.

How had he ever thought it could be otherwise? Old
Saraid's warning echoed in his mind. I ask you, Mananndn. Do not do this. Death... it is strong. In the end, it cannot be
denied.

He ignored the wisdom of the Sidhe elder-for what?
Artemis and the child she carried were in the power of a
demon. He should have told her about the baby, he realized now. If she'd known...

Abruptly, Malachi's red beam cut off. Mac slumped,
shuddering. The sudden absence of pain and despair was
the most absolute bliss he'd ever known.

Malachi called a stairway and ascended the stage,
Artemis tucked against his side. With a groan, Mac heaved
himself onto his back and stared up at the demon. Hatred
boiled like lava in his gut. But this time, far from making
him strong, it only weakened him further.

"Enough, I think, for now," the demon said. "But do
not get used to my benevolence. I use my slaves often and
hard. Sadly, the human ones do not give much pleasure.
Sidhe, on the other hand... well, the agony of a Sidhe is
quite refreshing."

"So glad... to be... of service."

Malachi grinned. "Spirit unbroken, I see. I will attend
to that. With your divine soul, I am quite sure that you
will soon surpass your sister as my favorite whore. Yes," he
added. "I have Leanna with me in Hell. Miss Black even
saw her in Shadowhaven. Did she not tell you?"

Artemis's eyes were wide. "I... saw a Sidhe female in
Malachi's realm. I never thought-"

Malachi chuckled. "Yes, my dear, I'm sure he believes
you. After all, you've been so honest with him, at every
turn."

He turned to Mac. "I will never understand humans.
This witch loves you and you her, yet she betrays you over
and over. She knows you cannot keep me from destroying
her son."