Dire Destiny of Ours Read online

  My inner demon stirred.

  Oh, are you pissed off too?

  Even though it seemed to have a mind of its own, it was a part of me, just like the man brain in my pants, leaving me to answer my own question.

  A foot nudged me in the ribs and shoved me onto my side. I felt my back rest against something hard, and assumed it must be the table. The wall with the bloody symbol came back into view.

  "Enjoy the view while it lasts," said one of my tormentors.

  I had one trick up my sleeve that might work if I could actually move my head. I'd learned how to blink—instantly move myself a short distance—but I had to see where I wanted to go. The last place I wanted to end up was closer to the wall where they planned to sacrifice me. While a blink might take me a short distance away, it would also leave me even more disoriented than I felt right now.

  All I could do was watch the man paint the bloody symbol on the wall. I realized, with disgust, he was using the blood of the dead guards. I wanted to tear out his throat with my teeth. One final option suddenly occurred to me. Not wasting another second, I went into a light trance and withdrew inside myself. Dread fought my final hope as I went to the place inside my soul that connected me with my demon half. My spirit resided partially inside my body and partially in Haedaemos, the demon realm. It was a bizarre arrangement that was common to Daemos. To maintain the connection, there was a small opening, a window in my soul to the infernal realm.

  Because of my paralyzed system and sluggish brain, it took longer than usual for me to reach that inner plane of existence. I hardly dared to look. When I did, a profound sense of relief warmed me. The window was there even though I wasn't in Eden.

  I sent forth a tendril of my essence the same way I usually did when feeding my incubus tummy. Instead of questing forth into the world, I sent it through the window to seek out something that would show these people they'd messed with the wrong hombre.

  Hellhounds.

  The moment my probe went through the window, I detected a very powerful and familiar presence.

  The Abyss awaits your command, said a deep multi-harmonic voice.

  I almost crapped a brick. The voice belonged to a very powerful demon known as an Abyssal. I'd first summoned this particular demon as a hellhound. The second time I'd summoned him as a flaming hand to kill off a horde of murderous demon scorps. The third time I'd called upon his services, he'd come in full glory as a massive Abyssal demon. Kassallandra had warned me never to summon him or others of his kind again.

  Sorry, I just need a simple hellhound.

  I sent my probe into the wilds of Haedaemos, questing for a suitable presence.

  The Abyss will serve, said the many-voices of the demon.

  It had been a terrible struggle to maintain a grip on my sanity the last time I'd called forth this demon in its most powerful form. I didn't want to risk losing control. I found a dog-like presence not far from my demonic probe and quickly snared it.

  Even though my eyes remained open the entire time, I had to fully return to my body for vision. I focused on the floor not far from me and willed the creature to spring forth from there. Thick black tar bubbled. A skeletal head rose from the ooze. Flesh wrapped around the bones as first one foot then another strained free of the birth pool. My potential murderers were too busy watching Michelangelo paint the wall with blood to notice as a monstrous hound broke free of the infernal pool.

  Remain quiet, I said using brainwaves. Hide.

  The hellhound stared with baleful yellow eyes at me. Just because I'd summoned it didn't mean it was immediately bound to obey me, especially in my current position.

  I sent forth images of me destroying the roomful of Seraphim with Brilliance. Obey, or die in agony, I sent to the creature.

  It stiffened, and the rebellion in its eyes faded to obedience. It slunk into the small closet near the bed, its footpads silent. I didn't know how a hellhound would do against vanilla Seraphim, but two would surely be better than one, I figured. I sent my presence back into Haedaemos.

  Why do you not call upon me? The Abyssal's chorus of voices sounded a hurt tone.

  You're too dangerous. I could barely control the summoning last time.

  We seek only to serve. If infinity had a voice, it would sound like this demon's.

  Despite the ultra-scary voice, it sounded sincere. I didn't care if it gave me chocolate and flowers. I wasn't about to call on it unless it was an absolute emergency. I don't require your services right now. I sent my probe questing. Something immensely powerful glided past my senses. I quickly withdrew for a second to avoid attracting its attention.

  When I went back, I sensed the Abyssal lurking nearby. That thing obviously didn't plan to give up. Thankfully, I found a suitable demon and leashed it with my essence. When I returned to the physical world, I felt pressure under my arms and realized my captors were dragging me toward my final resting place.

  "He's in some sort of trance," someone said.

  "He'll wake up when my sword enters his guts," came the reply.

  I felt the demonic presence wriggling on my tether like a fish on a hook. Fueled by desperation, I focused on the floor and called the hellhound into being. As it formed, I sent a message to the other one.

  Come out and kill these people!

  "What is that thing?" someone shouted as the second hellhound burst from the birthing pool.

  The giant hound growled. Saliva drooled from its oversized muzzle. Its yellow eyes glowed with the fires of destruction. Hellhound one—I named him Punky since he'd been such a punk to me at first—lunged for the closest Seraphim. Drooler—the second hellhound—went for a figure I barely detected in my peripheral vision.

  My captors dropped me. I landed on my butt, back against the wall. It was the perfect spectator position. One seraph swung a sword at Punky. The hellhound ducked under the sword and viciously chomped the attacker's arm. With a loud snarl and twisting motion, Punky tore the arm free and threw it to the ground. The seraph screamed. Blood spurted from his newly formed stump. Eyes wide with horror, he stumbled backward, feet slipping on his own blood.

  Drooler tore another seraph's throat to shreds. Apparently, the clothing my captors wore was no protection against hellhounds.

  Light flashed off metal as a sword bit into Drooler's hindquarters. He yelped, spun, and clawed his attacker. The seraph screamed as razor-sharp nails gouged skin.

  "Kill the target!" shouted a deep voice.

  Two figures charged me, blades held high. Punky sped across the room and bowled into them. The seraphs slammed hard against the window on the far wall. Drooler finished off another seraph and ran to join Punky.

  Wait, I sent to them. Teeth bared, basso growls vibrating in their throats, the hounds stopped feet away from the survivors.

  Straining with all my might, I managed to speak. "Who sent you?" I could barely move my mouth, but managed to make the words intelligible.

  The larger of the two seraphs slid back his mask to reveal a handsome face with a square jaw and large, straight nose. "We may die, but others will come."

  "You sound just like the Brightlings." I had trouble with the 'B' and felt slobber on my lips. Just like the other attackers, these seraphs wore no gems of any kind. It made sense now that I knew how the stones worked. An assassin would have to be pretty stupid to wear something that recorded his every move.

  My lips regained a little more movement. "I just want to save Eden. If you let me do that, I might be able to help you with the Brightlings."

  The seraph sneered. "You mistake us for loyalists to the current regime. Our people"—his spat the word—"have proven they are not fit to govern themselves. They've allowed religion to corrupt everything. We would rather live subservient to the Brightlings than allow this cancer to eat us alive."

  "You must not be familiar with Daelissa." I felt my legs and arms start to respond and managed to push myself up. "She has declared herself the Divinity. Her people now worship her
like a goddess."

  The man's sneer faltered. "Lies."

  I shook my head. "I'm not lying. If you're helping the Brightlings, why don't you ask one of them?"

  "We do not serve the Brightlings." Squarejaw countered me with a defiant look. "You are already a proven liar anyway. There's nothing you could say to sway me."

  "I fail to see how I'm a proven liar."

  "You claim to be the Destroyer." He spat on the floor. "There is no such thing, just as there is no Primogenitor."

  I shrugged. "Believe what you want, but unless you tell me what I want to know, I'm going to hardcore destroy your ass." Advance, I told the hounds.

  Teeth bared and growling menacingly, the hellhounds stepped forward, backing the two seraphs toward the balcony.

  "Who are you working for?" I asked.

  Squarejaw barked a laugh. "We will die before we talk."

  The other seraph pulled off his mask. "Actually, I would be more than happy to tell you whatever you—ACK!" He made an awful noise as Squarejaw gripped his head and savagely twisted it to the side. The would-be informant's neck snapped, crackled, and popped like a bag of walnuts under assault by a midget with a mallet.

  The hellhounds lunged forward. Squarejaw dropped the body and jumped back a couple of feet. "Now there is no one left to talk."

  "I'm still alive," the informant rasped.

  "Not for long." Squarejaw lifted the hem of his shirt and grabbed something small. Red light flashed from within his hand. "There will be no survivors." He tried to leap over the dogs, but Drooler intercepted the seraph's crotch with his teeth.

  Squarejaw made a noise like a girl who just found a spider on her shoulder. Drooler maintained the grip on his junk and bulled him out to the balcony. Squarejaw's arms flailed. I noticed a flashing red gem in the palm of his hand. I didn't know what the gem was supposed to do, but felt a hundred percent sure I didn't want to find out the hard way. Throw him over the balcony!

  Drooler twisted his head hard and launched the seraph far out into the night air. Squarejaw spun like a Frisbee and screamed like a wounded pig. For an instant, he seemed to hover in the air as he hurled one last curse at me.

  The gem flashed brilliant red. Squarejaw's body stretched wider and wider as if he were made of rubber. Suddenly he shrank to a pinpoint and vanished. A spherical void occupied the place where he'd been and the vacuum of absolute silence blanketed my ears.

  "What the hell was that?" I felt my mouth form the words, but couldn't hear anything.

  I saw the hellhounds running in circles howling and slobbering like crazed animals. I turned and saw Flava standing in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. She looked at the bodies, the blood-painted wall and backed away.

  My earls popped and crackled as if clearing of congestion. The sound of howls grew louder and louder. The void in the night sky closed in on itself and vanished.

  I worked my jaw back and forth. My ears popped again and seemed to clear once and for all. "Flava, I need you." Without waiting for a response, I dropped to one knee next to the seraph with the broken neck. It didn't take a doctor to realize he was dead.

  "What sick ritual are you performing in here?" She looked aghast.

  I suddenly realized how it must look with the hounds and blood all over the place. "These men tried to kill me. I summoned hellhounds to protect me."

  "Hounds." Flava formed the words as if it was one she's never heard. She looked at the bodies and back at me. "You have strange powers, Destroyer Justin." She stepped over the blood and corpses and knelt beside me. "What do you need?"

  I indicated my informer. "Can you save this man?"

  She touched his neck and closed her eyes. "His spirit is long departed." She ran a hand over his eyes and closed them. "Who was he?"

  "He was with these guys." I pointed out the assassins in their black uniforms with the odd red striations. "I'd hoped to get information from him." I sat back on my haunches and pressed both hands to my forehead.

  Flava screamed. She simultaneously tried to jump up and move backward. Instead, she tripped over her own feet and tumbled to the floor on her butt.

  I smelled sulfurous breath and realized the hellhounds were lurking directly behind us. "Don't worry, they won't hurt you."

  Flava's terrified look told me she wasn't convinced. "These hound creatures frighten me."

  I tilted my head slightly to the side. "Don't you have dogs here?" When I spoke the Cyrinthian term for dog, the image of something like a dog mixed with a cat flashed into my mind. Apparently, the translation spell helped my lingual centers use analogous words if it couldn't find an exact match. When I said the word "hound" I spoke it in English.

  "Yes, but they look nothing like this." She inched away on her rear end until she found the far wall. "Forgive me for being weak, Justin. Some of your powers frighten me."

  I stood up and gave the hounds a stern look. Stop scaring the girl.

  Drooler made a whining noise and curled up on the floor. Punky went to a pool of blood and began lapping it up.

  Flava gagged.

  "Why are you here?" I asked.

  She pushed herself up along the wall and brushed off her uniform. I noticed it was the same one she'd been wearing earlier. "Ketiss assigned me to a room down the hallway from here." She pointed out the doorway. "I could not sleep, so I went onto my balcony. I heard strange noises coming from the direction of your room so I came down here to see what it was. When I saw the dead guards in the hallway, I rushed inside immediately and saw the seraph vanish after your hound threw him into the air."

  I walked to the door and looked at the dead guards. "I'm never going to get any sleep."

  Flava touched the gem she wore on her sleeve.

  "What do you need, healer?" said a voice.

  "Legiaros, there has been another attempt on the Destroyer." Flava's eyes wandered toward the writing on the wall. "I believe we need more guards."

  "I will be right there," he said and ended the call.

  Flava took a deep breath and motioned me toward the table. "May I take a look at you, Destroyer Justin?"

  I took a seat at the table. "Knock yourself out."

  She stared at me for a moment, apparently realized my request wasn't literal, and pressed her hands to my neck. I felt a tingling sensation on my face and in my ribs.

  "You were drugged," she said. "It feels like a paralytic of some sort."

  "Did they inject me with it?" I asked.

  The tingling sensation increased along my body. "I am not sensing any puncture wounds along your skin, but with your healing ability, it is likely any such marks would have healed already." Her hand shifted to my forehead and rested there. "The drug temporarily nullified your healing ability, but it probably didn't act quickly enough to stop your body from healing minor wounds right away."

  "Where would someone get such a drug?" I asked.

  She touched my temples and a dull headache I hadn't even felt lifted. "A drug this powerful would only be accessible to someone in the military, though there are probably dark market sources for such things as well."

  "In other words, you don't have a clue." Whoever wanted me dead was obviously powerful and well connected. I had a feeling my tenure as the Destroyer was going to end in my own pain and blood.

  Chapter 14

  Flava bit her lower lip. "I will extract the drug and examine it, but from what I can tell, it's one that is often used for subduing dangerous enemies."

  "It's used for subduing, all right." Whatever they'd used had certainly put the kibosh on my super abilities.

  Flava made a circling motion on my forehead with her finger. The tingling from earlier returned along with a prickling sensation from my scalp. Brownish liquid streamed into the air where it formed a small bubble. She channeled Murk and enclosed it in an ultraviolet sphere. She took the sample between thumb and forefinger and set it to spinning on the table.

  "I will have an analysis within a few minutes," she said
.

  The sound of rustling fabric and the step of boots on the floor echoed down the hallway. Within seconds, dozens of soldiers formed up in the corridor. I spotted a cloudlet loaded with troops move into position midair a little ways from the balcony. Ketiss entered. His eyes scanned the scene and paused at the writing on the wall.

  "The Heretics have gone too far this time," he growled.

  "I kind of felt they went too far the last time." I stood and approached him. "I understand these people want me dead, but I need to know one thing."

  Ketiss nodded gravely. "What would you like to know, Destroyer?"

  "How have these groups broken into two heavily defended ministry buildings?" I gazed at the deceased guards outside as one of the other soldiers inspected the bodies.

  "They apparently have contacts on the inside," Ketiss said. "At this point, I trust no one but my people with your protection."

  A soldier entered the door. "Legiaros, the Destroyer's new quarters are ready."

  "Understood." Ketiss turned back to me. "I have personnel on cloudlets all around the building and will keep a contingent in this hallway. It would take a small army to break through."

  "I hope that's enough." A yawn stretched my jaw. I was beyond exhausted. If Ketiss could get me through one night of sleep, I knew exactly how to solve this cycle of assassination attempts. "I was going to talk to you about something tomorrow, but there's no sense in waiting."

  The seraph inspecting the bodies entered the room. "Legiaros, the guards' gems were destroyed. Something prevented them from transmitting their recordings before they died."

  Ketiss folded his arms. "Begin the cleanup and notify me of further developments."

  The soldier turned and went back to his duties.

  Ketiss turned to me. "What did you wish to discuss?"

  I motioned him and Flava into the hallway. "Where are my new quarters?"

  Ketiss led us down the corridor lined by at least twenty guards. He touched his gem to the wall. A portion dissolved into a doorway.