The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(28)
Author: Gena Showalter

Sabin’s mouth watered. Cheese tots—his favorite. Somehow, she’d known he’d come here, seek her out; she meant to torture him, the tease. “Give me a bite,” he said.

“Get your own,” she replied.

William tossed his sticks in the air, caught them, then placed them atop the drum set. “Doesn’t matter how many notes I miss, I still manage to make some beautiful music.”

“Ha! I totally carried you.” Anya downed the rest of the tots, her amused gaze on Sabin. She threw herself onto the couch, legs swinging over the side. “So, Sabie, I’ve been looking for you. Lucien tells me we have a Harpy in the house!” She clapped excitedly. “I adore Harpies. They’re so wonderfully naughty.”

He didn’t point out that she’d been playing games, not looking for him. “Wonderfully naughty? You didn’t see her rip out the throat of a Hunter.”

“No, I didn’t.” Her lips fell into a familiar pout. “I miss all the fun babysitting Willy.”

William rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot, Annie. I stayed here, kept you company, helped you guard the females, and you wish you’d been off fighting. Gods, the blow you’ve just dealt me. I might even be tearing up.”

Anya reached over and patted his head. “Take a moment, collect yourself. Meanwhile, mommy is gonna chat with Doubtie poo. ’Kay?”

William’s mouth quirked at one corner. “Does that make me the daddy?”

“Only if you want to die,” Sabin said.

A laugh booming from him, William trekked to the seventy-three inch HDTV and plopped into the plush recliner in front of it. Three seconds later, a flesh fest was in full swing, moans abounding. Once, Paris had loved those movies. But in the weeks before their jaunt to Egypt, only William had gone near them.

“Tell me everything about the Harpy,” Anya said, leaning toward Sabin, her face alight with interest. “I’m dying to know.”

“The Harpy has a name.” Was that…irritation in his voice? Surely not. What did he care if everyone referred to her as the Harpy? That’s how he referred to her. “It’s Gwendolyn. Or Gwen.”

“Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn. Gwen.” Anya tapped her chin with a long, sharp fingernail. “Sorry, not familiar.”

“Gold eyes, red hair. Well, strawberry-blond hair.”

Her bright blue gaze suddenly glittered. “Hmm. That’s interesting.”

“What? The hair color?” Didn’t he know it! He wanted to plow his fingers through it, fist it, spread it over his pillow, his thighs.

“No, that you called it strawberry-blond.” A tinkling laugh bubbled from her. “Does little Sabin have a crush?”

His teeth ground together in irritation as heat flooded his cheeks. A blush? A f**king blush?

“Aww. How precious. Look who fell in love while searching all those pyramids. What else do you know about her?”

“She has three sisters, but I don’t know their names.” The words were raw, filled with violent warning. He was not in love.

“Well, find out,” she said, clearly exasperated that he hadn’t done so already.

“Actually, I was hoping you’d find out. I need you to keep her company.” Guard her, a part of him wanted to beg. Keep her safe. Wait. Part of him wanted to beg? Seriously? “But William stays here. William does not go near her.”

Leather rubbed against denim as William turned in the chair. He practically glowed with intrigue. “Why can’t I go near her? Is she pretty? I bet she’s pretty.”

Sabin ignored him. It was either that or kill him, and killing him would upset Anya. Upsetting Anya was the equivalent of placing your head in a guillotine.

At times like this, Sabin found himself longing for the dull routine of battling and training that had comprised his life pre-Lords reunion. Then he had only five roomies and no annoying women—beyond Cameo, but she didn’t count—or their horny friends to deal with. “Also, see if you can get her to eat,” he added. “She’s been with me for several days and has only eaten a few Twinkies, but she threw them up immediately afterward.”

“First, I never said I’d babysit your woman. And second, of course she won’t eat. She’s a Harpy.” Anya’s tone suggested he was a moron.

Maybe he was. “What are you talking about?”

“They only eat what they steal or earn. Duh. If you’re offering her food, she has to turn it down. Otherwise she’ll…drumroll please…throw up.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No, that’s their way of life.”

But that…surely it wasn’t…hell. Who was he to say something was impossible? For years Reyes had had to stab Maddox in the stomach at midnight and Lucien had had to escort the dead warrior’s soul to hell—only to return it the next morning to a healed body and do it all over again the next night.

“Help her steal something, then. Please. Isn’t petty theft your forte?” Later, he’d make sure food was lying around his room and easy to “pilfer.”

Suddenly a high-pitched cry of agony ripped through the walls, a sound that soothed Sabin’s very soul. The Hunter interrogation had just reached a new level. I should be there, helping. Instead, he remained rooted in place, curious, desperate for answers. “What else should I know about her?”

Pensive, Anya stood, walked to the pool table and dug one of the balls out of a pocket. She tossed it into the air, caught it, tossed it again. “Let’s see, let’s see. Harpies can move so quickly the human eye—or immortal eye, as the case may be—can’t register a single motion. They love to torture and punish.”

Both of those he’d already witnessed firsthand. The speed with which she’d killed the Hunter…the brutal way she’d attacked him…that had been all about torture and punishment. Yet every time Sabin mentioned attacking the other Hunters responsible for her treatment, she paled, a trembling mass of fear.

“Like any other race, Harpies can have special gifts. Some can predict when a specific person will die. Some can pull a soul from a body and carry it into the afterlife. Too bad more of ’em can’t do that—it’d make my honey’s job so much easier. Some can time travel.”

Did Gwen possess a special ability?

Every time he learned something about her or her origins, a thousand other questions presented themselves.