The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(54)
Author: Gena Showalter

The door to his suite swung open.

He gripped the blade strapped to the back of his neck, preparing to strike. When he spotted his guests, he relaxed.

"What kind of welcome is that?" Kane asked.

Cameo, Amun and Gideon flanked him. They’d been together since Baden’s death, when they’d given themselves over to their demons. Anything to help punish those who had taken one of their own.

The destruction they had caused, the people who had been hurt… Sabin shuddered, remembering. It had taken a long time to find themselves again, but by then it had been too late. They could never fully immerse themselves into society, could never be anything other than warriors.

Hunters wouldn’t let them.

More than destroying Baden, they had slaughtered any human the warriors favored and destroyed any home they’d ever made. For that, Sabin would fight them for the rest of his days. Aka eternity. Until the last one fell, defeated, he would fight.

Sabin sat up and anchored his weight on his elbows, leaning back against the headboard. "Anything?"

"Plenty," Gideon said.

"Nothing," Kane countered with a roll of his eyes.

Gideon was possessed by the spirit of Lies. Unlike Sabin, the man couldn’t utter a single truth. Everyone in the room knew to believe the opposite of whatever he said.

Sabin pinned Gideon with a next-time-just-keep-your-mouth-shut look and the man shrugged, as if to say he’d do what he wanted, when he wanted. No ‘as if’ about it, actually. Gideon did do whatever he wanted. Always had. Rebellion swam in his blood.

He was tall, a warrior like Sabin, but that was where the similarities ended. While Sabin had brown hair, brown eyes and a roughly hewn face, Gideon was pure punk, embracing the modern Goth look, throwing in a little grunge and mixing it all together with movie-star flair.

He’d colored his pale hair bright, metallic blue. Said he’d done it because it really made his eyes pop. Of course, that was a lie. He’d probably crafted the look as a warning to humans. Approach at your own peril.

He was pierced and tattooed all over his body. He only wore black, and he never left home without a full arsenal strapped to his body.

Well, none of them did, really.

"Where’s Strider?" Sabin asked.

Gideon opened his mouth to answer – with a lie – but Kane, possessor of Disaster, interrupted, "He couldn’t accept defeat. He’s still looking."

Of course. Sabin should have known. Because Strider held Defeat inside of him, he had to win, no matter what he was doing – war, cards, ping-pong – or he suffered physically, unable to move from bed for days.

Sabin had told his team to talk to the locals with the goal of learning something new about the Lords or the box, so Strider would not return until he did so.

Cameo, the only woman in their cursed group, plopped into the plush lounge across from him. Once, she, too, had been an immortal warrior to the gods. Like the other warriors, she’d been offended when Pandora was chosen to guard dimOuniak. But unlike them, she hadn’t resented the fact that a female guard had been chosen – only that the female selected hadn’t been herself. He still remembered her enormous smile the day they’d decided to topple Pandora. It was the last smile Sabin had ever seen on her face.

"The locals are unwilling to give us any information;" she said. "For some reason they consider the warriors – get this – angels and don’t want to betray them."

Sabin had a hard time listening to her. She was the saddest excuse for flesh he’d ever seen.

Oh, she wasn’t ugly. Far from it. She was small and delicate, with black hair and amazingly bright silver eyes. But she now held the spirit of Misery inside her, so laughter, giddiness and joy were not a part of her life.

Sabin had tried for hundreds of years to cheer her up. No matter what he did, what he said, she always looked on the verge of suicide. Truly, all the sadness in the world was swimming in those silver eyes and layered in her voice. He’d always wondered how she persevered without going mad.

He rubbed his jaw as his gaze sought Amun. "Did you learn anything?"

Amun leaned against the far wall, a dark slash in contrast to the stark white of the room. Dark skin, dark eyes, dark everything, Amun could divine secrets – deep, deep secrets – when in close proximity with someone.

Had to be a burden, knowing the ugliest secrets of those around him.

Maybe that was why Amun rarely spoke. Afraid he’d spill unthinkable truths. Afraid he’d cause widespread panic.

"Nothing to help our cause," Cameo answered for him in that death-warmed-over tone of hers. "Except for the women who’ve slept with Paris and Maddox and only know the size of their cocks, the townspeople have always remained at a distance from the warriors, so they don’t know enough for Amun to divine a secret."

Okay, seriously. She made him want to plunge a knife in her heart, right here, right now, rather than wait for her to do it. Anything to stop the sadness.

Before he could respond, the door burst open a second time and Strider entered, claiming everyone’s attention.

His light hair was in tangles around his face, his blue eyes bright. Dirt streaked his sharp cheekbones and blood was sprinkled on his chin. But his strides were smooth, unburdened, so Sabin knew the man had found something.

Sabin straightened abruptly. "Tell us."

Strider paused in the center of the room and grinned. "As we suspected, Hunters are already here."

Cameo shifted in a movement of total grace and elegance completely at odds with her suicidal expression. "Let’s capture and question them and find out if they know more than we do."

"No need," Strider said. "I already detained one."

"And?" Sabin asked excitedly.

"Like that Hunter told you last month, they’re here to capture the Lords on the hill. They’ve got someone on the inside."

"I’m delighted to hear this," Gideon said.

Strider ignored him. They all did.

"No mention of the box?" Kane asked. As he spoke, a lightbulb shorted out in the lamp beside him, spraying sparks in every direction.

"None."

The lamp tipped over, nailing Kane in the head.

Sabin shook his head. The man was a walking disaster. Literally. Whenever Kane stepped into a room, things went to hell pretty quickly. Sabin expected the ceiling to cave at any moment. And yeah, it had happened before.

Kane brushed the tiny flames from his hair and rubbed his temple, hazel eyes showing no emotion. Without a word, he moved away from the hazardous lamp and eased onto the floor as far away from everyone as he could get.

Sabin cast a glance out the French double doors that opened onto a comfortable balcony with a romantic view of the city. Not that he had room for romance in his life.