His heart aching, Nick started to go after her and calm her down.
Caleb caught his arm in a tight grip. “I can’t stress enough to you that you need to stay out of this.”
“Why?”
“Use your powers, Nick. Look at what’s about to happen.”
Nick glanced around until he found something shiny enough to use for scrying … the silver on the water fountain. It wasn’t very big, but it was enough that he could focus his powers with it.
And there in that small, two-inch strip, he glimpsed the horror that was about to become Brynna’s life over this single act of cruelty.
In that moment, he completely disagreed with Caleb. “She needs a friend.”
“Yes, she does. But right now, the administration is looking for someone to blame for this. You walk in there too soon and this will be hung around your neck. Trust me.”
That would be his luck, too.
Even so, Nick would deny it if not for the fact that Caleb had a lot more life experience to draw from. You didn’t argue colors with Picasso. Car facts with Richard Petty. And you definitely didn’t question human behavior with Caleb.
Standing down, Nick felt that strange sensation again. While Caleb had assured him this was human in origin, he wasn’t so sure.
There was something else here. Something dark. Cold.
Lethal.
And it wasn’t Caleb.
CHAPTER 3
Adarian froze as he felt a sensation he hadn’t experienced in thousands of years. For a full minute, he didn’t move as he tried to pinpoint it. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear it belonged to Noir’s primary guardian. But he’d made sure when he escaped the dark lord’s Nether Realm that the only creature who could find him would be punished to the point he’d never be able to track him down.
No, it couldn’t be Seth. Seth was still being tortured. Noir would never take a chance on sending Seth after him.
This was something else.
Where are you…?
More to the point, What are you?
He felt the creature pulling back before he could locate its exact position. Had it detected him? That was always his biggest concern. While he couldn’t be defeated openly, everyone was susceptible to a sneak attack, especially when they didn’t know what was stalking them.
“Malachai! You have a visitor.”
His gut tightened. Was the visitor the one he’d sensed? Or was it someone or something else? His senses and powers on full alert, he allowed the guard to cuff him so that he could be escorted to the visitation center.
As one of the most ferocious and feared inmates in Angola, he was always heavily guarded and never allowed near civilians without being fully shackled. Something he found hysterical since the only thing that kept him here was himself. There were no walls built by man that he couldn’t tear down with a whisper. No chain forged he couldn’t melt.
But he chose to live here for several reasons. The primary one being that all of this concentrated human malice cloaked his presence from those who were searching for him. The inmates’ negativity and hostility also fed his powers. With so many willing victims and predators on tap, his juices never thinned. He always had someone feeding him.
To a demon, this was paradise.
The guard opened the door and stood back so that Adarian could enter the small cubicle. As he sat down, the lights dimmed and he was allowed to see his visitor on the other side of the glass.
Adarian glared at the blond man who was drumming his fingers idly against the tabletop. “What are you doing here?”
“You told me to keep you posted.” That gravelly tone was spoken at a level that no human could hear. Only a demon.
And while he’d wanted updates on his son, he’d assumed they’d come through Caleb or in his cell at night. Not out in the open like this. The last thing he needed was for someone to identify the creature in front of him.
“Then speak and be quick about it.”
His visitor arched a brow at Adarian. Shifting slightly in his chair, he caused a portion of his black button-down shirt to fall open, revealing a grisly skull tattoo in the center of his chest. His black eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t order me around, Adarian. I’m not one of your slaves. I’m your master.”
“No,” Adarian corrected. “You’re my partner.”
“You bargained with me,” he reminded Adarian.
“True, and you accepted, thereby making us equals. You help me. I help you. That exchange of services makes us partners.”
Grim didn’t appear to care for that in the least. But then Death thought himself above everyone and everything.
One day, he would learn the truth. No one was above dying.
Not even Death.
Grim growled in the back of his throat. “I now know where your son gets his most irritating qualities.”
Adarian didn’t comment on that. “How goes his training?”
“Slowly. He lacks focus. Not to mention, whoever blocked his powers did a great job of it. Unlocking them isn’t as easy as it should be. Some of that is because he hasn’t been really hurt. Yet. His mother has wrapped him in a layer of love so thick, it’s hard to breach. The kid needs tragedy in his life. Without that, it’s impossible to push his hatred and make him act on it. He needs someone to hate with a burning passion.”
Adarian curled his lip. He couldn’t afford for his son to be slow. The sooner Nick learned how to hate, the sooner he’d learn to kill, and the quicker Adarian would be able to leave this place and have the freedom he’d craved since the moment of his birth.
Unlike his son, he’d always known who and what he was. His mother had purposefully conceived him to destroy his own father and to buy her freedom from the dark primal gods she served. From the moment of his birth, he’d been breastfed venom and succored on bitter hatred for everyone and everything. As soon as his powers had manifested and he’d killed his father, his mother had sold him to Noir to be enslaved and used by the sadistic god who’d wanted to destroy his enemies and take over the human realm.
Adarian still had nightmares over that quaint experience. If he’d ever possessed a shred of decency or humanity, his time spent in Azmodea had destroyed it.
And those gory centuries spent there were why he’d gutted his mother the instant he’d escaped Noir’s custody. Why he would never allow himself to be enslaved again. Not to anyone.
Even Grim.
But Grim wanted to see the Apocalypse he’d been created for. And like Adarian, Grim didn’t want to be in a subservient role when he delivered it. He wanted to lead. Adarian could respect that.
However, he didn’t really care about Grim. He wasn’t capable of caring.
At least that was the lie he told himself.
“You want your Apocalypse, I want my revenge. Train my boy and deliver his powers to me. I need them.”
Grim nodded. “If you would allow me to kill his mother—”
“No!” Adarian growled. “You harm her and I will rain down a hell on you that you can’t even imagine.”
Grim’s eyes snapped fire from the fury he kept repressed because he knew better than to show it to Adarian. Not even Grim would get away with that. “Fine. But you better remember what I’ve done to work this little miracle for you. I want a piece of Nick when all is said and done.”
“You can have it. Now go and don’t let me see you here again.” Adarian got up and left the room. His original plan had been to use his son to rebuild his army. But this last year, as Nick’s powers had grown, he’d felt his own start to wane—something he couldn’t allow anyone to know.