“Well, they’re women. What did you expect?” Wrath muttered. A double-headed axe flew through the air, narrowly missing him before bouncing off the stone wall and clattering to the floor. “Hey! What was that for?”
“Don’t be such a chauvinistic pig, or I’ll be forced to shove a stick from your arsehole to your mouth and spit roast you.” Greed glared at him with a level of malice I usually spotted on her peers.
“Kinky,” Lust snorted.
“You can fucking try,” Wrath growled, his eyes practically glowing.
“Annnd that’s about enough of that, children.” They were worse than me when it came to veering wildly off course. “We’ve established you’ve been decimating Earth, but how are you planning to combat the resistance? Their numbers are growing by the day.”
Come on, take the fucking bait, anyone.
“Way ahead of you, my king,” Famine simpered, much to the annoyance of her sisters. Death practically glowered while the others shared a pointed look.
“Ohhh? Do tell.”
“Why tell him when you can show him, sister?” Death crooned.
Famine beamed with pride as she sidled up to me once again. All she ever did was bloody sidle. “Follow me. We have them in the dungeon, where they belong.”
Oh, how I loved my dungeon. It had taken me centuries to get everything just to my liking. Torture rooms, a screaming chamber, a pit of despair, and my favorite, a room of reflection. That one was a delight. Made of nothing but mirrors from floor to ceiling, that cell was reserved for the worst of the lot. Ofcourse, anyone forced to look at themselves for eternity with all their darkest deeds replaying in each mirror would be driven insane. Even more so when their eyelids were removed and they were unable to look away.
Really, why did I have to give all this up? Was it truly so black and white? Merri or hell? My mate or my kingdom? How very eighteenth-century.
Famine rambled on about something while parading me through the hallways and down to the appropriate cell. It wasn’t until she said, “Siren coven,” that I stopped dead in my tracks.
My voice was deadly cold when I snapped, “Excuse me?”
She blinked like a demented owl before sputtering, “Just up ahead, we have the mates of the Siren coven. Each in their own cells, of course, and spelled so they’re unable to speak. Though that was mostly for our own sanity. The constant snarling and shouting from the Scottish one was becoming unbearable. Shifters are so hot-headed.”
“Yes... quite,” I mused, but I’d be lying if I said their presence didn’t rattle me. The Siren coven and their mates had been the catalyst for the cage I’d spent a quarter of a century locked within. No one else had ever succeeded in locking me up for that long. If it hadn’t been for Hel, I’d still be behind their infernal bars.
I’d been able to astral project a handful of times, but it had always taken massive amounts of power for very little gain. Hell still ran without me, because I was just that good, but it never boded well when the denizens of my realm realized their king was away. An appearance now and again ensured no one went too off script. Or did anything foolish. Like try to claim my seat.
As we approached the cell containing Grant McTavish, I had to steel myself before taking in the sight of him. Don’t get me wrong, there was a lovely sort of justice in turning the tables.The Siren coven mates locked away and me roaming free. I just didn’t trust them when they were all together.
“And where are their females?” I asked softly, my eyes never leaving the four bound males. I was less concerned about them. The witches had far more power.
“Coordinating an attack on our remaining offspring.”
“Willingly?” I asked, both brows lifting in surprise.
“They are quite motivated, seeing as their failure will result in the death of their partners and children.”
Thinking of something happening to Merri or our future devil-ling sent a bolt of pure rage barreling through me. “Yes,” I practically growled. “I can imagine.”
“Farther down is our real prize. The reason for all of this, if you will.” Famine was so proud of herself I could nearly taste the cloying sweetness of the emotion.
I already knew what was coming; it was the entire reason for my impromptu visit. But I played dumb and suffered through her showboating. My eyes landed on the dark-haired female and the too-pretty purple-haired male hovering protectively beside her. The infamous Sunday and Pan. What a lot of fuss for two rather basic-looking persons. They better be worth it.
A low growl slipped free from Sunday as we approached. She had the unfortunate scent of unwashed dog about her. Definitely a shifter.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” I murmured, taking a step closer to the bars. “War and Pestilence, I see. I can smell the stink of disease on you, Pandemic.”
“Fuck off,” Pan spat.
I ignored him and instead turned my focus to Sunday. “And then there’s the runt of the Fallon pack. Sunday. I didn’t expect you to be formidable by any means, but I have to say, I had hoped for a little more fire from the mother of the harbinger.”
Pure, undiluted rage burned in her eyes as she glared at me.
