The Darkest Night (25 page)

When she snuck out to listen for ways to break his death-curse, which she planned to do tonight, she’d find out where the bombing had taken place and go there. If she was lucky, she’d learn where the hunters were hiding
and
how to save Maddox from dying.

Probably wishful thinking on both counts, but hope was a silly thing.

Her gaze snagged on a trail of blood, and her mouth fell open in horror. Only when she realized the injured warriors must have been up here did she relax.

…somewhere. Right?

The tiny bit of conversation suddenly whispered through her mind, surprising her. The new guys? Ashlyn stopped, one foot in midair. Her ears twitched as she listened, but nothing else assaulted her. Odd. That had been a man’s voice, and hadn’t been there a little while ago.

She walked another step. Nothing. Changed directions, another step.

Yes. I’m betting on it.

There. Another snatch. Gulping, she continued in that direction…

Come on, this way…where are they…hopefully still out…lost too many with those fucking booby traps…took too long to clean the mess…do they know…fight…

…and soon found herself in front of the door that blocked Danika and her family from freedom.

Ah, hell. Someone—several someones, actually—had sneaked inside. Not the new guys, then. Were they still there? Had they hurt the women? Ashlyn’s hand shook as
she reached for the knob. Wait. Maybe she should run and tell Maddox.

The intruders might be hunters.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. If they were the very men who’d planted that bomb, they could be planting another right now. She backed away, meaning to alert Maddox.
You can’t leave Danika and the others here, Darrow.

“They’ll be fine,” she whispered. According to Maddox, hunters only wanted to hurt immortals. Right? Right. She backed up another step. Telling Maddox was the smart thing to do. He could stop them, she couldn’t.

But another step and conversation slammed into her mind.

Where is she?

I wish to God I knew.

Do you think they…killed her?

It’s possible. Hell,
worse
is possible. They’re demons.
Pause, sigh.
Damn it, I should have put more guards on her.

Her boss, she realized. Dr. McIntosh was here. She should have been relieved to hear him, glad that he’d cared enough to track her down. But…he’d had men guard her? How had he infiltrated the fortress?

Ashlyn, honey. If you can hear this, meet us at Gerbeaud at—

What if she’s locked up? She won’t be able to leave on her own.

Hush. I hear someone coming.

Then, quiet.

She scrubbed her fingers back and forth across her brow, trying to start a fire of intelligent thought. Were they still here? What would Maddox do if he found them? What
would they do to Maddox? Panic raced through her.
Okay, okay. Think, Darrow. Think.

In the end, she didn’t have to make a decision after all.

The door in front of her opened and McIntosh peeked into the hall. His eyes widened when he saw her. His familiar, plain face comforted her—but for the first time, it also made her uneasy.

“Ashlyn! You’re alive!”

“McIntosh, I—I—”

“Shh, not here.” He snaked out an arm and jerked her inside the room, softly shutting the door behind her. The first thing she noticed was Danika and her family, passed out on the floor.

“Oh my God.” She moved toward them but her boss’s grip tightened, keeping her in place. Several other men were casing the room, looking for…what, she didn’t know. Nor did she recognize them. She’d never seen them at the Institute.

One of the men coughed, a gut-wrenching gag following, drawing her eye to him. There was blood on his hands. Sweet Jesus. He coughed again, doubling over. He was alarmingly pale and there were bruises under his eyes. Another cough.

“Be quiet,” McIntosh whispered fiercely.

“Sorry. Throat hurts.”

“It didn’t five minutes ago.”

“Does—” cough “—now.”

Ashlyn broke free of her boss’s hold and rushed to Danika, crouching beside her. “Is she…” She felt for a pulse.
Thump, thump.
Thank God.

“Just sleeping,” McIntosh assured her.

Relief sagged her shoulders. “Why would you do something like this? Why did you knock them out?” Even as she spoke, bits of their conversation played through her mind.

Who are you?
Danika demanded.
What are you doing here?

I’ll ask the questions. Who are
you? her boss asked.

Prisoners.

Were you looking for the box, too?

Ashlyn’s heart sank at the query.

Box?
Danika’s confusion was clear by her tone.

Did they tell you where it is?
McIntosh’s excitement rang loud.

He must have grabbed her, because she grated out,
Let go of me.

Did they?

Reyes! Reyes, help!

Shut up, or I’ll be forced to silence you myself.

Reyes!

There must have been a struggle because Ashlyn could hear huffing breath, grunts of effort, Danika’s family gasping and then crying, and then suddenly silent. More conversation about drugging the women and using them as bait later if necessary.

Hunters, she realized, closing her eyes in horror. She’d suspected yesterday when speaking with Danika, but had promptly dismissed the thought, reminding herself how good and noble the Institute was. To be honest, a part of her had assumed no one would be able to keep such a secret from
her.
But these men
were
hunters. No denying it now. Opening her eyes, she fixed them on her boss.

Nausea churned in her stomach. He’d known about the box all along. He’d been searching for it, but hadn’t told her. Oh God.

He’d lied to her. She’d devoted her entire life to a cause that didn’t exist. McIntosh had read her fairy tales all those years ago, told her she was special, that she had a higher
calling. She’d thought she was making the world a better place. Instead, she’d helped him destroy people, maybe innocents. A sense of betrayal washed through her, so strong it nearly dropped her to her knees.

“You don’t study the creatures I find for you, do you?” she asked softly. “Hunter.”

“Of course I do,” he said, offended. “I’m a scientist, after all. Not every Institute employee is a Hunter, Ashlyn. You’re proof of that. Ninety percent of our work
is
merely observation. But when we uncover evil, we stamp it out. No mercy.”

“What gives you the right?”

“Morality. The greater good. Unlike the demons here, I am not a monster. Everything I do, I do for the safety of mankind.”

“How did I not know?” she gasped out. “How did I not hear?”

He raised his chin, his eyes asking her to understand. “Only a few do the actual dirty work. And we never spoke of it on the premises. Nor did we let you into the places we’d been.”

“All these years.” She shook her head, dazed. “No wonder you barely let me out of your sight. You didn’t want me to stumble on information I wasn’t supposed to have.”

“You want information? I can show you pictures of the things these demons have done. Things that will make you vomit. Things that will make you want to scratch out your own eyes, just so you never have to see such an image again.”

She clutched her stomach. “You should have told me the truth.”

“I wanted you to stay as removed as possible. I do care about you, Ashlyn. We knew there were two groups of
demons. We’ve been fighting one for years and were always searching for the other. Then one of our female operatives discovered Promiscuity. We brought you to Budapest to listen and learn everything you could about these new enemies. You were never supposed to get close to them.”

Her life’s work had turned out to be something malicious and sick.
I was such a fool.
“You came to kill these men, but they treat the people of Budapest only with kindness. They donate money as if it’s water and keep criminal activity at a minimum. They keep to themselves and hardly venture out.
You
bombed a nightclub.”

McIntosh approached her, his expression determined. “We didn’t come to kill them. We can’t. Not yet. Years ago, it was discovered that to kill a Lord was to release its demon upon the world—a demon who’s nothing more than a twisted vessel of destruction, warped from its captivity. No, we’re here to capture the warriors. When we find Pandora’s box, we can lock away the demons and dispose of the men who house them.
You
found that out for us, remember?” He reached her and grabbed her shoulders. “Do you know where it is? Did they tell you?”

“No.”

“You had to have heard something. Think, Ashlyn.”

“I told you. I don’t know where it is.”

“Don’t you want to live in a world free from evil? Free from lies and misery and violence? You hear more of each in a day than most people do in a lifetime.” He studied her for a long while, frowning. “I’ve nurtured your talent for years. I gave you a place to stay, food to eat and a life as peaceful as possible. All I asked in return was that you used your gift to find the creatures living among us.”

“And I’ve always done so. But I haven’t heard anything new about the box,” she insisted, sickened.

His frown deepened. “You must have. You weren’t a prisoner like these women. You were freely roaming the halls.” As he spoke, his eyes widened, as if his own words had offered a startling revelation. He released her and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a syringe filled with clear liquid. “Are you working for the monsters now, Ashlyn? Is that what’s going on? Were you working with them all along?” The betrayal in his voice would have been laughable if she hadn’t been so frightened.

She backed up a step, then another. Her back hit a brick wall and she tried to jump away. Strong arms banded around her, holding her in place. Not a brick wall, after all. A man. A hunter. She struggled to free herself.

“Where’s the box, Ashlyn?” the doctor demanded. “That’s all I want. Tell me where it is and I’ll let you go.”

Calm down. Stall him. Distract him.
When she didn’t appear with the towels, Maddox would come looking for her. “You’re a hunter, but you don’t have a tattoo on your wrist.” Hadn’t Maddox said something about tattoos? “Why is that?”

He held up his arm and pushed the sleeve of his shirt down. An intricate black, sideways figure-eight stared at her. “I simply made sure you never noticed it. My father took me to get it on my eighteenth birthday when I made my vow to continue the family legacy.”

How had she never known? She felt so stupid. The woman who had thought herself impossible to deceive had been fooled for years. Shame and guilt joined ranks with her betrayal and fear.

Just keep him talking.
“Why the symbol of infinity?” she asked, barely managing to find her voice.

“Our purpose is an eternity without evil. What better symbol?”

“But the men here, they aren’t evil. They really aren’t. They’ve taken care of me. They’ve helped me. If you’d just get to know them, you’d—”

Hate fell over his face like a curtain. “Get to know a demon?” He cracked his jaw. Stepped closer. “Those creatures of the underworld need to be destroyed, Ashlyn.
They
toppled Athens. The people they killed, the pain they caused…”

“But hurting them makes you as evil as you claim they are. Have you not already killed people to get to them?”

Without warning his arm whipped out, slamming the syringe into her neck. A sharp pain, a warm rush. She tried to jerk away. Too late. She was suddenly so light-headed she could hardly move. A strange lethargy worked its way through her body, weaving weakness and shadows in her blood, her dizzy mind.

“Sleep,” McIntosh said.

And she did.

M
ADDOX COULD NOT BELIEVE
what he was seeing. A hallucination? A nightmare? He had left the injured warriors to check Torin’s room for any sign of the man’s return. To his alarm, he had found blood smeared throughout the hallways. Now he stood in Torin’s doorway, and he saw that Torin had indeed returned. He lay on the floor in a puddle of thick, dark blood. So dark it appeared black. Even his silver hair was tinted with that lethal red-black liquid.

A deep gash slashed his neck.

Someone had either tried to sever the head from his body and failed or had cut him to slow him down—and succeeded. Torin’s eyes were closed but his chest rose every few seconds. He was still alive. But for how long?

Bile rose in Maddox’s throat—bile and rage and determination. Had Torin crawled home from the cemetery after this happened? Or had someone sneaked inside the fortress, attacking him from behind in the hall? Had Kane done it? Or a Hunter? Maddox scanned the room, dread building. No sign of Hunters, nor of Kane.

He shouted for his friends as he considered his options. Torin was like a brother to him; he couldn’t leave him like this to suffer. But he couldn’t touch him, either. Though Maddox himself would not become sick, he would undoubtedly spread the disease to Ashlyn.

Ashlyn. Had the culprit gotten to her, too? No. No!
Help Torin and find her!

Again, he called for the warriors.

Skin to skin he could not risk with Torin. He would have to wear gloves. Urgency spilling through him, Maddox sprinted to the closet and withdrew one of the many pairs of black gloves Torin had stored there. He hastily pulled them from their sealed package and slid them onto his hands before draping a black shirt around his neck, protecting the skin there.

He bent down and scooped the injured man into his arms. He carried him to the bed and wrapped a T-shirt around his bleeding neck, applying pressure to stop the flow. It was strange to be this close to him after centuries of distance.

Slowly Torin’s lashes cracked open, and Maddox found himself staring into pain-drenched green eyes. Already Violence was preparing for battle, sharpening its claws, demanding action.

“Hunters,” Torin gurgled. The word was barely audible. “On hill. Coming here. Fight. Want box. Touched me. Took Kane.” He passed out after that, arm falling limply to the floor.

Damn. Having done all he could, Maddox sprinted from the room, intent on finding Ashlyn and the others.
Stay calm. She’s all right.
But the thought of her hurt or worse…“Ashlyn!” If the Hunters had gotten hold of her after they’d touched Torin, she could very well die of disease.

A familiar black haze descended over his vision.

She wasn’t in his room, and it did not look as if she’d been there at all. The towels were undisturbed. She was not in the women’s room, either. In fact, none of them were. No.
No!

From the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of silver.
He strode onto the balcony, nearly breaking through the glass doors to get there. A rappel wire was hooked to the rail and hung all the way to the ground.

Man and spirit bellowed in unison. There was no sign of the Hunters on the hill, which meant they were already a good distance away. Sweet gods, the Hunters had her. The Hunters had touched Torin and had then touched Ashlyn.

Sick to his stomach, he barreled toward the entertainment room. He removed the gloves and extra T-shirt along the way, dropping them on the floor wherever he happened to be.

“Towels?” Lucien asked when he spotted him. Obviously, he hadn’t heard Maddox’s cries for help. But he saw his friend’s expression and frowned.

Maddox told the group what he’d discovered, the broken, panicked admission rushing from him. Each of them snapped to attention and clamored around him. Each of them paled.

“Did they breach our walls?” Paris demanded.

“Yes.” Maddox turned to Sabin with a snarl. “Did you help them?”

The man held up his hands, the picture of aggravated innocence. “I was being blown to bits, too, remember? And my goal has always been their destruction.”

“What of Danika?” Reyes asked roughly.

“Gone.”

Reyes’s eyelids squeezed closed.

“Torin needs medical attention,” Paris said. “How are we going to manage that?”

“He’ll have to heal on his own. Gods, there’s going to be a plague,” Lucien said grimly. “We can’t stop it now.”

Maddox’s hands tightened into fists. “I don’t care if there’s a plague or not. My woman is out there. I’ll do whatever is necessary to save her.”

Strider stepped forward. “Kane was in that cemetery with Torin. He might have followed him back. Did you see him?”

“Torin said there was a battle on the hill. Kane was taken.”

“Fuck,” Sabin snarled, slamming his fist into the wall.

How had a day so bright with promise combusted so quickly?

“I’ll go into town with you,” Reyes said to him. He’d cleaned some of the soot from his face, but his feet were still charred and bare.

“I’ll search the rest of the fortress.” There was a blazing fire in Lucien’s mismatched eyes. Aeron had once claimed that Lucien possessed a temper darker than the most violent of storms. Maddox hadn’t believed him then. He believed now. “I’ll make sure they aren’t still here, hiding.”

After seeing that rappel wire, Maddox doubted it. “Five minutes,” he said to Reyes before racing to his room and loading his body with weapons. Knives, guns, throwing stars.

Hunters were going to bleed tonight.

R
EYES WATCHED
M
ADDOX
with shock.

They had stalked the streets of Budapest until finally stumbling upon a group of four Hunters. They were now in the forest, surrounded by trees and safe from the prying eyes of humans. Night had fallen and flaxen rays of moonlight slithered over nature, beast and human alike.

Maddox had attacked without warning.

He wore the veil of Violence, and it was no longer a mere shadow. It had taken over his face completely, a skeletal visage straight out of nightmares. Quickly he—it—killed two of the Hunters with a simple slash of his blade, their necks slit, just as had been done to Torin. They fell to the ground, instantly dead.

Reyes remained in place. He wasn’t sure Maddox was aware of his surroundings, much less of who he fought. And if Reyes were to intervene, he suspected he would be slashed, as well.

His own rage was as fierce as Maddox’s. For some reason, he felt responsible for Danika and was infuriated that she had been taken out from under him. So what that she was already marked for death?

“Where is your leader?” Maddox quietly asked as he stalked around the two Hunters still breathing.

“D-don’t know,” one of them said with a whimper.

“Where are the women?”

“Don’t know,” the other cried. “Please. Please don’t hurt us.”

Maddox showed no mercy. He fingered the bloody tip of his blade, running his tongue over his teeth. The blood splattered over that skeleton-face added all kinds of eerie. “Where were they taken?”

“D—”

“Say it, and I’ll cut out your tongue. You’ll watch as I eat it,” Maddox warned.

Reyes didn’t recognize that voice. It was lower, harsher, than Maddox had ever sounded before. He was all beast, no trace of man.

“I want to know where they are.”

“I do—”

The man didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Maddox spun toward him, arm rising. He sliced down. One moment the man was alive. The next he was dead, blood pouring from his neck.

That’s when the sole survivor whimpered. Coughed.

“I’m only going to ask once more,” Maddox said, and the Hunter coughed again. “Where were they taken?”

“McIntosh didn’t tell us,” was the trembling response. “Just said we were to watch the city and radio if we saw one of the Lords. Except for Miss Darrow, there wasn’t supposed to be a woman inside the fortress. Please. They just want the girl and the box. They planned to sneak inside, grab her and look for it. That’s all.”

Reyes stomped over and grabbed the radio that was strapped to one of the corpses. He hooked it to the back of his belt, planning to listen and see what he could learn. Right now there was only silence.

Maddox peered at him and Reyes nodded. Without a word of warning, Maddox reached over and snapped the man’s neck, letting him fall in a heap with his friends. They couldn’t have allowed him to live. He was a Hunter. He was infected. And he’d played a part in Ashlyn’s disappearance.

“What should we do next?” Reyes stared up at the heavens, part of him hoping the answer would fall from the stars.

“I do not know.” Maddox felt nearly mad with worry as he echoed the unfortunate Hunters’ words. Violence had taken over and ruled him totally, but in the back of his mind, he was aware. If he didn’t find Ashlyn soon, he would have to wait until morning, when he returned from the dead. And if he had to wait…if Ashlyn had to spend the night with Hunters…

He wanted to kill them all.

“Let’s search the town one more time. There has to be a trace,” Reyes said. “We have to have missed something.”

Side by side, they strode back into the city. Not many people were out, but those that were stayed clear of them. The bombing had probably ruined the illusion that they were angels. That and the fact that there was blood on Maddox’s hands and splashed on his face.

When he and Reyes stood in an alley, a dirty, urine-scented place that closed in on him like a life-sized coffin, he stopped and looked toward the velvety heavens as Reyes had done. Helplessness bombarded him, a poor companion to the rage and dark urges he already felt.

Ashlyn was his reason for living.

He loved her. He had known it before, but he was sure of it now. She was gentleness and she was light. She was passion and she was calm. Hope and life. Innocence and…everything. She was his everything.

Now that he’d found her, he could not imagine his life without her. It was as if she were the missing link, the final element of his creation, the only thing that completed him.

He had promised her that he would always protect her.

He had failed.

Roaring, he punched the wall beside him. He felt shredded inside.

A newspaper danced at Reyes’s ankles and the warrior bent down, grabbed it and crumbled it into a ball before tossing it aside. “We’re running out of time.”

“I know.”
Think!
“The Hunters would not have taken the women out of the city. They’ll be focusing all their energies on searching for the box, and they must think we have it to have entered the fortress as they did.”

“Yes.”

“Most likely, they’re still here in town. Hiding.”

“I would not doubt if they hoped to use the women as a trade for the box,” Reyes said. “We should arrange one.”

From his tone, Maddox knew he did not mean a fair one. They would take the women and leave only bloodshed behind. “How?”

Reyes held up the walkie-talkie. They listened to it for
several long, agonizing moments, but it offered nothing except static—even when they requested an audience.

“Damn this! I don’t want to return to the fortress empty-handed, but I don’t know what else to do.” Reyes sounded tortured by the thought. “Midnight approaches.”

All Maddox knew was that he needed Ashlyn safe and whole and in his arms. Gaze still on the heavens, he splayed his arms wide. “Help us,” he and the spirit shouted as one. “Help us. Please.”

Nothing. The heavens did not open up and pour out a tide of rain. Lightning did not strike. All remained as it was. The stars twinkled from their inky perches. His eyes narrowed. When this was over, he and those uncaring, selfish gods were going to have a reckoning. Whatever had been done to Ashlyn, he would mete out to them. A thousandfold. “Let us circle the area one last time.”

Reyes nodded.

Fifteen minutes later, Reyes and Maddox were exiting a chapel they had quietly searched when they spotted an old man across the street. He was dirty, unkempt, wearing only a thin, hole-infested coat. And he was coughing. A bone-deep, spit-up-a-lung cough.

Maddox recalled the night Torin had come into this very city—a city much different than it was today. Huts rather than buildings. Mud streets rather than cobblestone. The people had been the same, though. Fragile, weak, unsuspecting.

Torin had removed his glove and caressed the cheek of a woman begging for his touch. A woman he had longed for from afar for years. His resistance had crumbled and he’d hoped, just once, that someone would survive. That love would conquer all.

An hour later, the woman had started coughing. Just like the old man was now.

An hour after that, the rest of the village had followed suit. In the days that followed, most of the townspeople had died terrible deaths, their skin pockmarked and every orifice of their bodies bleeding.

Maddox cursed under his breath. Ashlyn was out there somewhere, with the very Hunters who had caused this new epidemic—for that’s what it would be. An epidemic.

Violence sank fully into the shadows of his mind, as if it respected that Maddox needed to take charge. He and Reyes crossed the street with heavy footfalls, closing the distance between themselves and the old man.

Most of the area was still deserted, people tucked safely in their homes. Tomorrow, they would not be safe even there. “I need to speak with you,” Maddox called to the old man.

Coughing, he stopped. His eyes were fevered as he gazed up at Maddox. When he saw the warrior, he gave a start. “You’re one of them.” He doubled over from another cough. “The
angyals.
My parents told me bedtime stories about you. I’ve wanted to meet you my entire life.”

Maddox barely heard him. “You might have been in contact with a group of men. Strangers to the city. They might have been in a hurry and would have had tattoos on their wrists. They might have had five women with them.” He tried to temper his voice, to keep his fury and concern and desperation to a minimum. It would not do to scare the old man into a heart attack.

Although, that might be merciful. The death that would soon claim him would not be a kind one. Yes, Lucien was going to be a busy man.