Demon of Vengeance: Chronicles of the Fallen, Book 4 (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The moment Sebastian shimmered inside the warehouse, the stench of rotting flesh hit him like a brick wall.

“Oh, sweet Christ,” Xander growled, pressing the back of his hand to his nose.

Sebastian glanced around, sword drawn and at the ready. The warehouse appeared empty but for that God-awful smell.

“Spread out,” Niklas barked.

As a unit the four of them fanned out and began searching the warehouse. Sebastian pulled up a tarp and pushed aside a huge crate to peer behind it. A rodent the size of a Mastiff skittered over the toe of his boot and scurried away. Sebastian dropped the tarp, shook his leg and let the shiver of disgust wiggle over his shoulders and down his spine. Okay, maybe not a Mastiff, but certainly a small poodle. By the saints, nothing made his skin crawl worse than a rat. He’d take an entire nest of Garnochs over one of those little fuckers any day.

A shrill whistle split the silence. He spun on his heel and sprinted up the rickety wooden steps, heading toward the source of the sound.

Sebastian skidded to a stop just inside what must have once been an office. His stomach revolted and he had to turn aside, squeeze his eyes closed, and force the bile back down. Giving himself a hard mental shake, he rushed farther inside the room to join the others.

They’d finally found Mikhail.

God help us all.

The Demon of War hung suspended from a massive, rusted meat hook that had been anchored to the wall. The oxidized point of the hook went all the way through him, and protruded from his sternum. His head hung forward, so they had yet to see his face. But the rest of him had been ravaged. Beaten to a bloody pulp. Sliced. Bruised. Amputated.

Skinned.

Broken.

His chest was barely moving. His elbows were manacled and chained to the wall, as were his knees. Pointless to chain ankles or wrists, Sebastian supposed, when the victim had no hands or feet to keep restraints anchored.

All around the room, body parts littered the floor. Hands, feet, tongues, ears, lungs, livers. Other parts no male wanted to consider. Basically anything that could be cut off or cut out and still regenerate.

Anything
.

Covered in blood, both dried and fresh, swarmed by flies, the appendages formed gruesome piles of carnage. And in the middle of that pile laid a woman’s cold, dead body. Her throat had been savaged and, judging by the lack of blood around her, she’d been drained dry.

Sebastian’s heart broke for Mikhail. To torture the Demon of War like this, continuously cutting off, cutting
out
body parts, bleeding him half a step shy of Oblivion, driving him out of his mind with hunger because of his injuries, and then putting an innocent throat before him like a lifeline? Sebastian could barely wrap his mind around that kind of depravity…and he knew of only one demon capable of that level of brutality.

Well, two. After all, it had been Mikhail’s chief duty to torture victims this way while serving Lucifer. Taking them right to the point of death, then yanking them back. But Mikhail had never reveled in it to this extent.

Sebastian knew of only one demon who would take such unmitigated glee in torture of this magnitude.

Ashïek.

After this, Mikhail would be crazed. Feral. They’d probably have to find a way to contain him until they figured out how to handle him and determine if he was even safe to unleash on the world again.

“Get him down,” Sebastian barked when he realized the others were standing as he was, staring in shock.

Just as they moved forward to reach for Mikhail, the air near Sebastian wavered. Sebastian leaped into action, barely managing to pull up at the last second before he delivered a killing blow to his own mate.

“Phoebe?” he choked.

And then he leaped forward to catch her as she fell to her knees and vomited. He tugged her hair back from her face, holding it out of the way until she quit heaving. He helped her to her feet and over to the corner with the least amount of…well, Mikhail.

“What the hell’s going on?” Xander bellowed as he and Niklas supported Mikhail’s weight while Gideon carefully guided his big body up and off the hook.

Sebastian was too busy checking to see if any of the blood soaking her clothing belonged to her to ask questions. Her skin was Carpathï crimson, her hair jet black. And her eyes, despite the bottomless black color, were wide with shock. He clamped his hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him and only him. He didn’t think she’d even had a chance to take in her surroundings yet. That was probably a damned good thing. The sight of Mikhail—everywhere—would be sure to send her over the edge.

“Talk to me,” he demanded. “How did you get here?”

“Shimmered,” she panted. “Thought of you…came to you. Don’t know how, just…
felt
my way to you.” She pressed a fist to her side and winced, bending slightly the way a runner might after a grueling race.

By now Niklas and the others had lowered the still unconscious Mikhail to the floor. They crowded around Sebastian and Phoebe and were all clamoring for answers.

“Shut up,” Sebastian roared. Then, to Phoebe, he urged in a more reasonable tone, “What happened?”

“Attacked…less than a minute after you left. Like they were waiting, watching.” She puffed. “Demons…everywhere. My God, so many of them.”

He was losing her. He gave her a little shake, bringing her back to here and now.

“We tried to call for help, but you didn’t answer.”

Niklas and Gideon reached for their phones, checked displays, and swore.

“Jamming device,” Xander announced, kicking a small black box in the corner.

“How did they get past the ward stones?” Gideon demanded. “No demon should have been able to touch them.”

No one had an answer.

Niklas shouldered his way into the mix. “Is Carly all right?”

“They’re all okay.” Phoebe nodded, and the relief in the room was palpable.

“We fought off as many as we could. But they just kept coming. I didn’t know what to do, and then Kyanna was yelling and cussing at me, ordering me to shimmer.”

She groaned and wobbled, bending over at the waist. For a moment, Sebastian thought she was going to get sick again, but she straightened and dragged in a deep breath.

“I didn’t know where to go, where to take them that would be safe.”

“You shimmered
with them
? You’ve never shimmered before, and you shimmered
with my helpless pregnant wife
?” This from an incredulous Gideon.

Phoebe shot him a look that would have given Sebastian pause had it been aimed at him.

“Your
helpless pregnant
wife
exploded eight demons—maybe nine, I lost count—with some freaky blue balls of energy. And it was shimmer with her or let her die. There were just too many to keep fighting. And when Kyanna got hit, we just couldn’t hold them off anymore.”

That shut Gideon up.

But now Xander was the one exploding. He shoved the Seer aside and got right up in Phoebe’s face.

“Where is my wife?” he snarled.

“She’s all right,” Phoebe breathed, wincing again.

“Damn it, stop crowding her.” Sebastian threw an elbow. “Let her talk.”

But Phoebe swayed once more and dropped to her knees. Sebastian went down with her and wrapped his arm around her waist for support.

“Took them to the ruins. To Calakmul. At the top of the second structure, there’s—”

“I know the way,” Gideon snapped. And then he was gone. Xander and Niklas were hot on his shimmer trail.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Phoebe. How was he ever to keep her safe? If she wasn’t petting snakes and diving for careless workers, then she was smack in the middle of demon battles. Trouble followed her around like a lost puppy.

“We have to get Mikhail someplace safe,” he told Phoebe. “Is the plantation even standing?”

“I think so. But it’s a mess.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing. Can you stand? We need to get Mikhail back, see what we can do to help him.”

“I don’t think so, Vengeance,” Ashïek said from the doorway. “War and I were having so much fun together. Besides, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Sebastian snarled as he jumped to his feet. In a split second, he morphed, snapping his wings open behind him, creating an instant shield for Phoebe. “News flash. Stolas has been taking credit for your handiwork.”

Ashïek shrugged. “He has a poor imagination, and a lack of vision. Besides, do you really think anyone else would have this kind of”—he waved his arm around at the carnage—“creativity?”

The grin on Ashïek’s face enraged Sebastian.

Sebastian summoned plasma balls in the palms of both hands. “You’re a dead demon.”

Smug, Ashïek tilted his head. “I don’t think so. You see, I know something you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Your female will be your downfall.” With that, Ashïek launched himself at Sebastian.

They hit the far wall, smashed through, and then went tumbling through the air until they crashed on the concrete a story below. As though waiting for a sign, Ashïek’s minions began pouring into the warehouse. Some attacked Sebastian from behind while he squared off against Ashïek. Others aimed for the stairs and the office above.

Phoebe!

Sebastian snapped his wings open and took flight. In the first swoop, he knocked a swarm of minions from the stairs. In the second swipe, he brought the stairs themselves down.

The windows in the office shattered, blown from the inside out, and Sebastian caught a glimpse that turned his blood cold. Minions had already gained access to the office. Even now, Phoebe was fending off two of them while the third crept up on her from behind. But the angle was bad, and he couldn’t risk a plasma ball. He might hit his mate by accident.

He flew toward the office, but then jerked to a stop when a heavy chain wrapped around his ankle. With a mighty roar, Ashïek gave a yank, and Sebastian careened to the ground.

Panic swelled. He had to get to Phoebe.

But once again, Ashïek was standing between him and his mate. Sebastian saw red. Nothing would stop him. He would get to his mate. Or he’d die trying. He let go of the tight leash he kept on his temper. Let go of his self control, of his restraint. It was like the day in the cave, when he’d rescued her the first time.

No, it wasn’t like that.

This was way worse.

He decimated wave after wave of minions in a complete blood bath. And then he turned his wrath—the wrath of Vengeance—on Ashïek himself. Ashïek fought back like the demon he was, vicious and ruthless, but Sebastian was unstoppable. He had something to fight for now. Something Ashïek could never truly understand.

Swiping up the chain that had been used to bring him to the ground, Sebastian wrapped it around his fist, and then used it as a whip. He slammed it against Ashïek over and over. Every time the demon tried to crawl away, Sebastian would grab him by the ankle, drag him back, and pound on him some more.

Only when Ashïek was a pulpy mess, babbling incoherently, did Sebastian kneel on his chest. He clamped both huge hands on either side of Ashïek’s head and lifted it from the bloody concrete. He looked into Ashïek’s eyes, waiting for the sliver of awareness to surface. And when it did, he snarled, “You lose.”

He wrenched Ashïek’s head from his body.

Sebastian stood—Ashïek’s head in one hand, and a plasma ball in the other—and he roared loud enough to shake the rafters. He dropped the plasma ball on Ashïek’s chest, then tossed the decapitated head on top.

His age old nemesis was dead, defeated by his own hand. Sebastian expected to experience some sort of powerful emotion. Joy. Victorious. Invincible.

All he felt was relief.

With a mighty swoop of his wings, he propelled himself to the second floor. He dug his fingers into splintering wooden planks and ripped half the wall out. And once again, he was amazed.

Phoebe, still fully demonic, crouched protectively over an unconscious Mikhail. She’d just lobbed a plasma ball, and her final opponent went up in a screeching ball of flames.

And standing at her side—fighting by her side—was Sïnsobar. Again.

His heart thumped hard. Sebastian flew inside the room and tucked his wings back so they wouldn’t catch on the ragged opening. This was the third time the Carpathï had protected Phoebe in battle. What the hell was going on? It was high time he got some answers.

He made to grab Sïnsobar by the front of his shirt, but Phoebe lunged between them.

“Wait,” she said, holding a hand up to warn him back. “He saved my life.”

“Exactly,” Sebastian growled. “He’s done it more than once. I want to know why.”

Phoebe relaxed infinitesimally and moved to his side so they could both face the Carpathï.

Sïnsobar stood before them, tall and proud, his crimson skin—skin so very like Phoebe’s—splashed with blood. As he opened his mouth to speak, the air in the corner of the office distorted once more. Gideon and Niklas appeared. They took one look around at the destruction and shook their heads. Then they caught sight of Sïnsobar and both went into a battle crouch.

“Wait,” Sebastian ordered.

Both his friends sent him questioning glances, but they straightened and extinguished the plasma balls in their hands. Sebastian turned back to Sïnsobar. Gideon came to stand at his side, while Niklas went directly to Mikhail.

“Get him out of here,” Sebastian said.

With a nod, Niklas placed a hand on their fallen brethren and shimmered him away.

“Answer me,” Sebastian ordered, turning back to the Carpathï. “Why do you keep rushing to my mate’s defense?”

“She is a Carpathï demoness. My kind. One to be protected.”

“Bullshit. You yourself handed her over to a cave full of minions to be raped and tortured and feasted on.”

“That was before I knew who she was.”

Who
, not
what
. Little alarm bells went off in Sebastian’s head.

The Carpathï turned to face Phoebe now, making it clear his attention and his answer was for her and her alone. “Your mother is Danika, yes?”