The Darkest Touch

“I am not playing cops and robbers with you.”

“Like it’s really a game I’d play with you.”

I’m a calm, rational woman—her new mantra. “I don’t see anyone else around. Do you?”

“Of course I do.”

She stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighed as though dejected. “I thought you were freakishly brave, unconcerned by what was happening around us, but it turns out you’re just blind. It’s almost heartbreaking.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I hate to break it to you, sunshine, but your cool points just took a nosedive.”

“Tell me!” she insisted. The last time he’d told her she wasn’t really looking at what was taking place around them, there’d been a bona fide behemoth in their vicinity.

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll show you.” Suddenly serious, Lazarus bent down, putting them nose-to-nose, and peered into her eyes. “I can see spirits and I can share the ability for a short time by linking my mind to yours. You’re welcome.”

She tried to look away—he was too intense, too mesmerizing, and every instinct she possessed screamed that if she wasn’t careful, she would completely lose herself and never be found. But he gripped her by the chin and held her in place, forcing the connection to remain.

Little flames leaped to life in those black, bottomless orbs of his. Crackling, smoking. Literally smoking. Tendrils wafted from him and saturated the air between them. Every time she breathed, she caught the scent of peat and ash. Her mind fogged, and her thoughts derailed. He became all that she saw, all that she knew.

All that she wanted.

“What are you...doing... Stop,” she said, and thought she might be swaying on her feet.

He released her, breaking the spell. She blinked rapidly, and shook her head. The fog cleared. The intoxicating scent faded.

“Look,” he said, his tone grim.

“Don’t ever do—” What the hell? What were those things?

They. Were. Everywhere. Alligator bodies, human heads—human zombie heads. They were climbing the shelves, inching across the floor, and each one was staring at her as if she’d make a delicious all-you-can-eat buffet.

“Did you know that nearly two hundred thousand people die a day?” she said, voice strangely devoid of emotion. “In our world, I mean. Our other world.”

“And since there are only the two of us left in this one, we’re definitely next. Is that what you’re trying to say?”

She palmed both of her daggers. “No. I’m saying I’m going to meet today’s quota by killing those things.”

* * *

BADEN, THE FORMER keeper of Distrust, stood in the center of a circle of boulders. A jacked-up version of Stonehenge. Between each of the boulders was a wall of fog, and playing over the different areas of fog were movielike scenes. Scenes from the lives of his friends.

Cameo needed his help. She couldn’t see past her companion’s rugged exterior, didn’t know he was more of a monster than the ones surrounding her. And Baden couldn’t tell her. He was trapped here.

Life pretty much sucked because he wasn’t just trapped, he was trapped with Cronus, the former keeper of Greed, and Rhea, the former keeper of Strife, both displaced royalty on the lookout for a humble servant. Not gonna find one here. And then there was Pandora. She’d never been a demon-keeper, lucky girl, but she’d always been a pain.

All four of them had been beheaded in their natural life, and all four of their spirits had left their mutilated bodies and floated here, unable to stop the journey—now, unable to leave...whatever this was.

“Why do you torture yourself this way?”

The soft, sweet voice came from behind him. The cadence was a deception. One he knew well. He turned and watched as Pandora stepped through the fog. She was six feet of bad attitude with a shoulder-length crop of hair so black it gleamed blue. Her features were sharp yet pretty, the rest of her almost as muscled as him. Altogether she was a nice package—if you liked your women with hearts of ice.

He preferred a little heat in his bed, thanks.

Since moment one of his arrival, they’d been at war, striking at each other in every way imaginable. But the moment Cronus and Rhea had arrived, they’d united, striking at the royals.

“Torin is with the Red Queen,” he said. “And she has—”

“What! The Red Queen? Let me see.” Pandora moved to the section of fog displaying Torin’s interactions with the legendary female whose immense power had somehow created the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle, whose temper had ushered in the Ice Age. A woman who had set up a network of spies throughout almost every realm in existence, inside every royal house, within every race of immortals and humans alike. There was very little she didn’t know.

Very little she couldn’t do.

If two clans were fighting and she picked a side, the opposers immediately raised the white flag of surrender.

For a dead man like Baden, she was a pot of gold.

She and Torin were in the Realm of Wailing Tears where they were playing Dr. Ken and Homicidal Maniac Barbie. Baden had never seen Torin so determined to heal anyone.

Trying to get laid despite the consequences?

Can’t blame him. Though, if Baden had his pick of beauties, he’d go with someone a little less...murderous. He’d been stuck with a dark-haired viper for thousands of years. “Sweet” would be a nice change.

Anyway. Baden knew how badly Torin wanted to retrieve Cameo and Viola and return to his friends.

“Do you think the Red Queen can save us?” Pandora asked, all but rubbing her hands together.

“If she survives the disease...and if Torin learns the magnitude of her particular skill set... Yes. He will ensure she launches a successful search and rescue.”

First and foremost, Keeley would be able to procure a pair of serpentine wreaths from Hades, who had wheeled, dealed and killed to acquire every set ever forged. The mystical relics could be worn by humans or immortals and would make every spirit tangible to them. But more important, the relics could be worn by a spirit like Baden, making him tangible to everyone and everything.

I can reclaim everything I’ve lost.

“But, Pandy,” he added with a smile. “We both know she’ll come for me and me alone. You’ll be left behind—unless I decide to take you with me. Think about that the next time you want to strike at me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_f1a9502f-3e5e-5584-bcf2-aa5b856d6723)

I HAVE ANOTHER choice to make, don’t I?