Dark Devotion: Dark Series 3 (21 page)

Loki’s green eyes seemed to widen as he, too, realized what had happened. Suddenly, they were fading, only he wasn’t in control of it – Loki was. With his wolf so very close to the surface of his subconscious, he could smell Loki’s panic as he tried to fade away from him.

Rhys looked down at his other hand and found that his fingernails had somehow partly transformed into his wolf’s razor-sharp claws. He looked back into Loki’s eyes and finally released all control. With a loud snarl bursting from his throat, Rhys brought his transformed hand up and shoved it into Loki’s other shoulder. The god screamed and tried to scramble away. Rhys felt his body bending to the will of his wolf, could feel the first twinges of his muscles and tendons tearing.

The shift happened quickly, and it felt like Rhys was being hit by a freight train. His body quadrupled in size in the space of a heartbeat. His arms and legs, his torso and head all became his wolf’s. He could feel his fingers buried in Loki’s flesh change shape – become bigger, become more deadly. Purposefully he flexed his wolf’s toes, feeling the muscles in the other god’s body yielding to the dagger-like claws replacing his fingernails. His skin began to prickle then as tens of thousands of follicles pushed through. The black fur grew within seconds, covering him in a thick coat.

Loki collapsed under the heavier weight, falling backwards so that his skull slammed against the ground and exposed his throat. Rhys stared into his eyes, seeing the black wolf that shared his soul staring back at him.

“It’s impossible,” Loki said, his eyes so wide Rhys could see the whites.

Rhys tore his front paws from Loki’s body. The sound that left the god’s throat was an unnaturally high keening. Blood sprayed into Rhys’s face, and he leaned down to drink from the river of blood gurgling from the wounds.

“It’s not possible,” Loki said again, repeating the words over and over. Placing his large paws on the god’s chest, Rhys flexed his claws and punctured the skin. More blood flowed, and with it, so did Rhys’s sense of justice. He started to dig into Loki’s chest cavity, breaking through the protective sternum and ribcage and finding the internal organs.

Loki’s heart was the first thing to be eaten. The flesh slid down the back of his throat easily. Rhys buried his muzzle in the pooling blood, lapping at it. The lungs were next. Rhys ate every organ and piece of viscera until there was nothing left but blood.

But he didn’t stop there.

Clamping his mouth over the god’s leg and arm joints, he dismembered him, flinging the limbs in different directions. With a low growl in his throat, Rhys looked at Loki’s face. He wasn’t serene in death. The look of terror was etched into every line on his face – even his eyes told of the horror. Rhys broke Loki’s neck and removed his head from his body.

“Oh, my god! Someone call animal control,” someone said behind him.

Rhys looked over his shoulder at a human woman who was standing about twenty feet away. In her arms was a small dog that appeared to be too scared to even yap at him.

“Don’t get too close, Pearl. He could come at you too,” a man warned.

“That poor man,” another voice said. There were dozens of them coming out of the shadows, and Rhys realized he was standing in a suburban street. With his wolf sated, he forced himself to shift back. Everyone gasped, and a wave
of did you just see that
,
that’s impossible
and even one
what the fuck
? came pouring from the crowd. Naked and covered in gore, Rhys took one souvenir from the grisly scene and faded from sight.

Odin blinked rapidly, his vision from Muninn’s eyes disappearing abruptly. He had been checking in with the bird whenever he could, but with the limited vision he had, he felt this would be the last time. The sharp bang of a gun firing was still ringing in his ears, the sight of Loki holding the weapon at Muninn making his stomach twist with equal parts rage and anxiety.

He would have no way of knowing who had won the fight. From what Odin had seen, Rhys wasn’t faring too well. He cursed and started to pace. He should have known his plan would fail. Loki would be too strong for the light elf. He stopped to take a long drink of cognac from the full glass sitting on the coffee table.

Gods, he had to know what the outcome was.

Striding to the desk, he picked up the letter opener and brought the point to his palm. He slashed his skin then held his hand – palm down – over the licking flames in the hearth. Making a fist, he let three drops of blood fall. As they hit the flames, he called the name of each Norn. When the final, trembling drop had fallen, he stepped back from the fierce heat and took another sip from his glass. A few minutes passed before there was a subtle shift in the air. Odin looked over his shoulder to find all three Norns. Verdandi and Skuld were standing meekly before the fire, but Urd was lounging on the chaise with his glass of cognac in her hands.

He turned around to face them properly, seeing Verdandi’s and Skuld’s gazes skittering to their sister before returning to him. The pair curtseyed. Urd just took a loud slurp from the glass and raised a dark brow at him – baiting him. Biting his tongue, Odin sat down in the wingback chair.

“I need to know something.”

“Yes, All-Father?” Skuld said.

“Loki is currently fighting Rhys. He is the light elf who was born to the female who survived Fenrir’s attack.”

“Sonofabitch,” Urd said. “You found him.”

Odin spared her a
I’m the All-Father, you foolish woman
look and pressed on. “My ravens are dead. I don’t have any eyes out there anymore. I need to know who wins. I need to know if Loki is killed.” He focused his attention on Skuld since she was the future fate. “I need to know the outcome. Now.”

Skuld looked to Verdandi, who then said, “The future is not set yet.”

“What do you mean ‘it’s not set yet’?”

“The future can still change because the present is not fixed. What if Rhys avoids one blow only to receive another later on that could prove fatal?”

Odin squeezed the arms of the chair in an attempt to keep control of his temper. His fingers digging into the plush fabric drew Urd’s attention and she gave him a disdainful look. She put the crystal glass down between her feet and leaned her elbows on her knees.

“It’s driving you crazy, isn’t it?” He didn’t take the bait. She smirked. “You held so much power once upon a time. How does it feel to hold absolutely none now?”

“Urd,” Verdandi hissed, chastising her sister.

Urd shrugged and reclined once more. “It’s not my fault he can’t handle it.”

“Urd, please,” Skuld said. “If you’re not going to be helpful, you might as well just leave.”

She stood up, fluffing her dark hair. “Good. I’ve got better things to do than hang out with a washed-up god anyway.” With a smile that bared her teeth, she disappeared from the room.

“You can all get out,” Odin said quietly, staring at his highly polished Gucci loafers. He looked up at the remaining Norns. “I said get out. You are no help to me now.”

The sisters curtsied in unison and vanished from sight. Odin sat staring into the fire after they left. Not knowing was driving him crazy. If Loki was still alive, Odin had just lost his one and only chance at killing his blood-brother. Turning his other children against him simply wasn’t a possibility. Odin had absolutely no sway with any of them. In fact, he was quite sure they hated him as much as their father did.

No, the only chance he had now was to escape the city – the country even – but he wouldn’t do that without Bryn. Standing up, he faded down to the Eye, sure he could convince her that this time she had no other option but to go with him.

Rhys faded back to the house where it had all started. The front reception room was in disarray, and he got a proper look at how much damage he and Loki had caused. All the furniture was askew, and the coffee table they both went through was nothing more than shards of wood and glass scattered all over the floor. There was a single bloody handprint on the glossy body of the piano. He headed toward the stairs, walking up them slowly. At the top of the landing, he stepped into one of the bedrooms and opened up the closet. His body had fully healed with his shift, but he was still naked. Pulling a shirt off the hanger and finding a pair of pants in the nearby tallboy, he got dressed then went into the adjoining bathroom.

Turning on the faucet, he cupped his hands under the flow. He splashed the water onto his face, rubbing at the patches of blood on his cheeks and chin. The water seeping through his fingers was pink, and he watched it swirl down the drain. Normally his wolf would be trying to get out after such a bloody battle, but not tonight. It had joined in. For the first time ever, Rhys had relished in having his beast take over.

It was … satisfying – far more satisfying than he thought it would be. He enjoyed the feeling of calm that had come over him once he’d relinquished control. He enjoyed the feeling of calm that still remained.

He washed his hands and turned off the water. Taking a towel from the stack beside the bath, he dried off his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He expected to see his wolf peering out of his eyes like it did at any opportunity, but it was absent. He patted the towel to his neck, then draped it over the side of the sink. He rifled through the closet one more time, finding a backpack.

Down in the dining room, he approached Maverick slowly. Her eyes were shut, and her face was peaceful. She had a wound on her left wrist, a larger one through her right shoulder, what looked to be a gunshot wound to her stomach and a small scratch on the front of her throat. From her injuries, he couldn’t figure out what had killed her. Odin’s Valkyries were fabled and feared, and supposedly immortal.

Dropping to his knees beside her, he bowed his head and said a prayer in the old language. He also said a prayer for Galen – something he had not done since finding out he was dead. With one arm under her head and shoulders and another under her knees, Rhys lifted her up and cradled her against his chest. He had to return Mav’s body to her family. He wouldn’t be able to fade with her – only the strongest gods like Loki and Odin had that ability – so he had no choice but to walk back to the Eye.

Outside, he breathed in deeply once and started toward the club, ducking into the shadows when groups of people approached. He counted the blocks as he went, thinking about what he would do now. He couldn’t and wouldn’t return to Chicago to do any more than collect his cash. He’d saved every cent he’d earned as Craine’s wet man. At last count, he had close to seven hundred grand to his name. He wouldn’t need to work for a while, and when he did, he would choose a job that required him to work alone.

He had always wanted to travel to Alaska, or far north Canada. The isolation appealed to him. He could let his wolf out more often, let it roam around. Half the time he wouldn’t have to get food – he could just let his wolf do the hunting. It huffed contently at the idea.

When Rhys saw the Eye up ahead, he picked up the pace. He slid down the alleyway beside the club quickly to avoid being seen and came to the metal security door. He pounded on the steel. It swung out and a dark shadow filled the jamb. Korvain stared down at him, his expression unreadable until his gaze landed on Maverick. His lips tightened. Rhys was prepared to explain himself to the Mare, but Korvain simply stood back and let Rhys inside. He walked in, gently repositioning Mav as he did. The short distance between the rear door and Bryn’s office seemed to take forever to walk. Korvain followed at his back.

Rhys stopped in front of the office and waited. Bryn pulled the door open from the inside, her eyes finding Maverick in his arms. He stepped into the room and Bryn retreated a few steps, stumbling over her feet and hitting the edge of the desk. Tears filled her eyes and Korvain was there in an instant, wrapping her up in his arms.

Rhys stood there stoically, feeling like an interloper. He knew the grief Bryn was feeling. He had felt it too, but instead of mourning his best friend like Bryn was doing, he had let his rage take control. Now that Loki was dead and Galen had been avenged, perhaps he would let himself grieve properly.

Korvain looked to him. “How? Her cloak was here.”

Rhys frowned. “I don’t understand,” he replied looking between them.

Bryn wiped under the eyes. “It doesn’t matter. Tell us what happened tonight.” She stepped away from Korvain and started moving stacks of paper to one side. “Put her down.”

Rhys shook his head and hugged Mav a little closer to his chest. There wasn’t any romantic connection between them, but he didn’t want to let her go just yet. He felt somewhat responsible for her death even though he knew Mav was fully aware of the risks. He sucked in a breath and started at the beginning.

“What of Loki?” Bryn eventually asked.

Rhys shifted the backpack from over his shoulder, letting it fall open on the desk. Loki’s head landed with a thud then rolled forward a few inches. The Valkyrie studied it, saying nothing for a long time. She glanced at Korvain and then back at Mav.

“At least he’s paid for his sins.”

Rhys couldn’t have agreed more.

“What are you going to do now?” Korvain asked.

“I’m leaving.”

“Where will you go?”

“North.”

The Mare slowly approached him. He held out his arms, ready to receive Mav’s body. Rhys took one last look at the warrior’s face and allowed Korvain to take her from him.

“Thank you,” the Mare said softly, his eyes conveying so much more than his words could have.

Rhys nodded tightly and turned. He was already out the door when Bryn called his name, but he had no intention of stopping.

His job was done.

Now, he was free.

*

Taer was in her room, sitting on the bed, waiting. For the past few hours, she’d kept within the safety of the club, trying to get into contact with Aubrey. She had only been able to get through to him once, but something had gone wrong; for whatever reason, he wasn’t able to see or hear her.

She didn’t have any idea where he was being kept, but she wouldn’t give up.

In her pocket, her cell phone vibrated. She took the device out and read the text message that had just come through from Mav; it had been sent nearly an hour ago. It contained two words:
He’s here.
Following them was an address.

Taer dropped the cell phone, feeling her world slow down. She was stunned. Shaking herself, she picked up the cell phone and re-read the message a few more times.  

“He’s in his house,” she said under her breath. “He’s in his own
goddamn
house.”

Jumping up, she dropped to her knees and pulled out the box containing her katana from under her bed. The sight of the sword with its pale green veils through the blade flooded her with memories. Aubrey had given her the sword when he realized that it was her Affinity – the weapon that spoke to her, that she was born to carry. When she held it, it was an extension of her body and she wielded it with deadly precision. Sliding the leather of the back holster strap over her head, she positioned it across her chest before securing her katana behind her and stood up.

The elevator ride down gave new meaning to the word torture, and when the doors finally opened, she strode to the far end of the hall. She wouldn’t allow anyone to stop her. She exited into the alleyway, closed her eyes and faded to Aubrey’s house.

Out on the street, everything looked the same as it did before, but Taer could feel it was different somehow. Reaching her hand over one shoulder, she felt for the handle of her sword, taking comfort in it. Looking down, she saw a few spatters of blood on the pavement. She crouched, touched her fingers to one of the drops, and brought them to her nose. It wasn’t Aubrey’s blood, so whose was it?

Getting upright again, she faded to the other side of the wall. In the courtyard, there was more blood. Some had been smeared, and some had collected between the cobblestones. The largest pool, however, belonged to someone who had been left spread-eagled and disembowelled on the stones.

She blew out a breath that hovered in front of her mouth, and let her gaze travel over the scene. Something small and dark caught her attention. As she approached, she realized she was looking at the iridescent feathers of a raven. She picked up the bird. Its neck was broken and there was a small caliber bullet lodged in its chest.

Gently, she placed the bird back down. She turned to face the house once more, her stomach dropping like a stone. If this was the destruction on the outside, what would the inside be like? What would Aubrey be like? A shiver slid down her spine, but she steeled herself and faded inside.

The parlor to her right was in disarray. Furniture was broken, a mirror had been shattered and there was even more blood covering the floor. Forcing her eyes away, she drew her sword and started up the stairs, expecting to see Aubrey’s captor around every corner.

She cleared the top level of the house quickly, which only left downstairs. Deep in her gut, she knew exactly where Aubrey was located; he was in the basement. Moving swiftly down the stairs, she navigated through the dining room and into the kitchen. There was more blood in both of those rooms, but her brain didn’t seem to really take it in. In the kitchen, pots and pans were strewn on the floor, many of them with large dents in their sides. When she came to the basement door, she pushed away her fears that were threatening to surface. She held her sword steady while reaching out with her free hand to turn the knob on the door.

Taer took a step back, holding a hand over her nose and mouth. The stench that rolled out the door was unbearable: a combination of blood, urine and vomit. Taer had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop them from watering before she descended the stairs. If it had been anyone else down there other than her brother or Korvain, she wouldn’t have gone.

But it wasn’t just anyone.

Keeping up her guard, she breathed through her mouth and took the treads quickly. When she reached the bottom, she couldn’t believe the scene. Her katana dropped from her fingers. It landed on the bare concrete floor with a loud clang.

Aubrey didn’t even flinch. He was sitting in a chair in the center of the room, his arms behind his back. His head was bowed, his matted hair shielding his face from view. He was naked from the waist up. His chest and stomach were covered in so much blood that she couldn’t tell if he had one or multiple wounds. She looked down at the pool of blood surrounding the chair, its reach about three feet in diameter. That was when she noticed his feet. Taer put her hand to her mouth to stifle the gasp. The skin on his toes and feet had been removed.

She edged farther into the room, never taking her eyes off Aubrey. Her focus was particularly on the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He was still alive, still breathing, but for how much longer? How much trauma could a body go through before it would simply give in? Taer moved behind him, seeing the stump where his hand used to be. An even larger pool of blood was on the floor.

“Oh, Aubrey, what did he do to you?” she whispered. Her voice had barely been audible – even to her – but somehow he had heard her. His head jerked up, looking toward the stairs where she had been standing only moments before.

“Get … get out of here, Taer,” he rasped. “He’s coming back. Couldn’t …” His words died, his head falling forward once more. Taer felt her lungs begin to burn, and she let go of the breath she been holding. Aubrey muttered her name a few times before saying, “Couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

She felt tears fill her eyes and knew she had to get him out of here. After getting a better look at his bindings, she saw that they were made of steel. She turned around, searching the workbench for anything that would break, crush or cut the links. All she found were the instruments of torture Loki had turned on Aubrey. She found a hacksaw in the second drawer, its teeth still caked in blood. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing it had been the tool to remove Aubrey’s hand. But she had no other choice. She lifted it from the drawer, holding it down at her side, and stood behind the chair.

When she got down on her knees, her pants instantly absorbed Aubrey’s blood. Taer closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to think about it too much. She took one deep breath and opened her eyes, looking at the chain. It was wrapped tightly around Aubrey’s elbows, bending them at a strange angle. Lifting the saw, she set the teeth against the metal.

“I dreamed you’d come to see me,” Aubrey said under his breath.

Taer stilled. Was he conscious?

“I dreamed it, and if it was true, it would have become a nightmare. I can’t … I won’t allow that bastard to harm you.”

“He didn’t,” she replied just as softly. She waited for him to respond but he was silent. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

Taer drew the saw back, feeling the teeth bite into the chain. Pushing it forward, steel flakes began to rain onto the bloody puddles. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt and her hand as she pushed and pulled the saw’s teeth across the chain. She was almost through when Aubrey’s head jerked up again. He turned so she could see his profile. He had a frown on his face along with a black eye and a busted up lip.

Recognition dawned and his eyes widened. “Taer? What are you doing here?” he asked, panic threading through his hoarse voice. “You have to get out of here. This is exactly what he wants. Just leave me here. Go.”

She hushed him gently. “It’s all right. He’s not here. You’re safe. I’m going to get you out of here. I just have to—”

“No!” He jerked his arms, making the saw skip out of the channel it had made. “He’ll come back. He always does.”