The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld #7)(57)
Author: Gena Showalter

She wiggled to get closer to him, settling only when their knees were touching, his wild scent surrounding her. If he did indeed tap into her memory, he would see one of the most painful experiences of her too-long life. A recol ection that never failed to tear her up and leave her broken heart bleeding. She would need his strength.

Concentrate on your breathing, he said, and she jumped at the gentle intrusion in her mind. And close your eyes.

Every friend she had would have cal ed her stupid for trusting a demon like she was about to do, but she didn’t care. Amun had given her the necessary blind trust, she could do no less. Her eyelids fluttered closed, hiding the features she’d come to crave, and she drew in a large quantity of oxygen. Slowly she released every molecule.

Good girl.

On her next inhalation, she felt tendrils of something…warm and dark drifting through her, rattling her mind as the wind often rattled the leaves on trees. She had experienced this before, but she’d been drugged, lethargic, and unaware of what that warmth and darkness represented. Now she knew—and tried not to panic.

She had asked for this. She wanted this.

But she didn’t stay calm for long.

Demon, she thought wildly. Her heart crashed into her ribs, threatening to burst from her chest.

Blindly she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the solid warmth of Amun’s wrists. In and out she continued to breathe. She held on as tightly as she could, not to push him away, but to remind herself that he was with her. That he wouldn’t let his beastly half hurt her.

And, to be honest, the demon had never real y tried.

Actual y, the demon had helped her, revealing her sister’s beautiful face, showing her the joyous minutes before her husband’s death. Why had the creature done that? Why had it shown her good things?

Weren’t evil beings supposed to focus on the bad?

Though she couldn’t fathom the answers, she relaxed. And as the rigidity melted from her spine, colorful images began to flash through her mind.

Once again she saw her little sister’s cherubic face, smiling back at her as they raced through a lush meadow. Innocent, carefree giggles echoed between them, and for a moment, only a moment, the cold completely washed from Haidee’s body, leaving her drenched in radiant heat.

The image shifted—come back! she mental y shouted, not yet ready to be separated from her sister again. But then she saw the adult version of herself standing on that long-ago veranda, lavender wedding gown draping her slender frame, her golden curls practical y glowing in the moonlight.

This was it. What she wanted to show Amun—what she dreaded showing Amun.

“Are you nervous, my sweet?” her former servant said, pul ing her back into the vision.

Haidee watched herself turn, heard herself reply to Leora. A conversation fol owed, dragging into eternity. When would they quiet? When would they—?

The old woman pivoted on her sandaled heel and led Haidee inside a torch-lit hal way. Toward the master’s bedchamber.

This was it, she thought again. Haidee’s grip tightened on Amun, tremors rocking her. Just as before, the arching doorway loomed closer…closer stil …only this time, she didn’t try to stop herself.

Closer…

As Leora slowed, she smiled over her shoulder. Final y they reached the door, and the servant stepped aside.

Haidee wanted to vomit as she saw herself reach out. Saw her fingers curl around the edge of the curtain and move the material aside. Her shoulders squared as she stepped inside the chamber, the curtain fal ing back into place behind her.

At first, the Haidee in the vision couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. But the smel , oh, God, the smel …

metal ic, coppery…mixed with the stench of emptied bowels. She knew that smel very wel : death.

Once white wal s were splattered with crimson. On the floor, her husband lay in pieces. Hysteria bubbled inside her as she spun. The carnage—there was no escaping it. Solon…

a piece here, a piece there, a piece everywhere. The words fil ed her mind, her encroaching madness making them a song. Her knees knocked together, and dizziness nearly drowned her. Frigid breath sawed in and out of her nose, uncontrol able now.

Then she saw something far worse than the carnage.

In the center of the room, the creature from her nightmares floated above a coagulated puddle of blood.

Just as before, the black hood was drawn over his face, shielding his features. But in the midst of the shadows, she could see the glowing red of his eyes.

Slowly he lifted one arm, a single gnarled finger extended in her direction. Rage pulsed from him, so much rage, enveloping her in malevolence. Hate fol owed. So much hate.

The eeriness of his presence jolted her out of her quiet horror, and she screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed. She couldn’t stop herself, even though each new wail scraped her throat raw.

She pressed her palms over her ears. That didn’t help. Stil the screaming ravaged her.

The creature floated toward her, and she at last quieted. So close…almost upon her…she scrambled backward until she hit the wal . Just before he reached her, several black-clad men stormed from the terrace and into the room, their weapons raised.

“There!” one of the men cried.

“He was right! The demon’s here!”

Demon? He? How had “he” known?

They pounded toward her nightmare, blades raised, ready to hack him into bits, just as he’d done to her husband. Oh, God. Her husband. Maybe the creature hadn’t kil ed him after al , because there were others just like him in the room, and now they exited the shadows, their eyes glowing bright red.

The creature disappeared before either the humans or the others could reach him.

Beside her, the curtain swished open. Haidee’s knees gave out as Leora and the guards that Solon had ordered to remain nearby stormed inside. There were so many of them, and in their haste to discover what had happened, they failed to see her. She was kicked forward, Solon’s blood soaking her beautiful gown.

The guards attacked the men from the terrace and the shadows, clearly blaming them al for their master’s murder.

Metal whistled through air, swords clanged together, skin popped as it ripped and men grunted in pain.

Then another set of warriors flew into the room. They, too, came from the terrace. They must have scaled the side of the house. They were far bigger and more muscled than any of the others—and their eyes glowed that same shade of evil-red as every one of Solon’s possible kil ers.

“More demons!” someone shouted.