The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(66)

He uttered another sigh. There'd be time for thinking on that later. Right now, he had another mystery to solve. The changing of the guard, so to speak. From the hands-off Greeks to the control-freak Titans - a worry he hadn't expected.

He didn't know these new gods, but he didn't think he liked them. There'd been murmurs of war and domination all through the heavens when they'd summoned him, forcing him to stand in a circle of unfamiliar faces and answer their questions.

What is your ultimate goal?

What are you willing to do to reach it?

Are you afraid of dying?

Why they'd summoned him and not the others, he didn't know. He didn't know anything, really. Not anymore. He wasn't even sure Maddox would tell the others to visit the cemetery.

He hoped they came. The time had come to make his presence known; he simply wanted to have the advantage when he did so.

If only I could lie... It would have made things a whole lot easier.

But Sabin couldn't lie - if he tried, the demon went crazy and Sabin passed out cold. Strange reaction to wickedness, but he could not stop it. What he could do was project his thoughts into another's mind, filling them with mistrust and worry as he wove a web of doubt through questions and observations.

Neither questions nor observations were lies, now were they?

Plugged in as his demon was to doubt, Sabin had heard Maddox praying for the human girl and had swooped in, creating even more doubt about whether she could survive without the aid of a god. That she had survived worked in Sabin's favor, allowing him to demand payment.

On the off chance the warriors arrived - they'd be armed despite his command, he was sure - Sabin and his men were going to be there, waiting. Hoping. How would they react to this unexpected reunion?

With hatred, most likely.

"Shut the hell up," he told the spirit. He didn't mind using it against others, but he hated when the stupid thing tried to weaken him.

The door to his suite swung open.

He gripped the blade strapped to the back of his neck, preparing to strike. When he spotted his guests, he relaxed.

"What kind of welcome is that?" Kane asked.

Cameo, Amun and Gideon flanked him. They'd been together since Baden's death, when they'd given themselves over to their demons. Anything to help punish those who had taken one of their own.

The destruction they had caused, the people who had been hurt... Sabin shuddered, remembering. It had taken a long time to find themselves again, but by then it had been too late. They could never fully immerse themselves into society, could never be anything other than warriors.

Hunters wouldn't let them.

More than destroying Baden, they had slaughtered any human the warriors favored and destroyed any home they'd ever made. For that, Sabin would fight them for the rest of his days. Aka eternity. Until the last one fell, defeated, he would fight.

Sabin sat up and anchored his weight on his elbows, leaning back against the headboard. "Anything?"

"Plenty," Gideon said.

"Nothing," Kane countered with a roll of his eyes.

Gideon was possessed by the spirit of Lies. Unlike Sabin, the man couldn't utter a single truth. Everyone in the room knew to believe the opposite of whatever he said.

Sabin pinned Gideon with a next-time-just-keep-your-mouth-shut look and the man shrugged, as if to say he'd do what he wanted, when he wanted. No 'as if' about it, actually. Gideon did do whatever he wanted. Always had. Rebellion swam in his blood.

He was tall, a warrior like Sabin, but that was where the similarities ended. While Sabin had brown hair, brown eyes and a roughly hewn face, Gideon was pure punk, embracing the modern Goth look, throwing in a little grunge and mixing it all together with movie-star flair.

He'd colored his pale hair bright, metallic blue. Said he'd done it because it really made his eyes pop. Of course, that was a lie. He'd probably crafted the look as a warning to humans. Approach at your own peril.

He was pierced and tattooed all over his body. He only wore black, and he never left home without a full arsenal strapped to his body.

Well, none of them did, really.

"Where's Strider?" Sabin asked.

Gideon opened his mouth to answer - with a lie - but Kane, possessor of Disaster, interrupted, "He couldn't accept defeat. He's still looking."

Of course. Sabin should have known. Because Strider held Defeat inside of him, he had to win, no matter what he was doing - war, cards, ping-pong - or he suffered physically, unable to move from bed for days.

Sabin had told his team to talk to the locals with the goal of learning something new about the Lords or the box, so Strider would not return until he did so.

Cameo, the only woman in their cursed group, plopped into the plush lounge across from him. Once, she, too, had been an immortal warrior to the gods. Like the other warriors, she'd been offended when Pandora was chosen to guard dimOuniak. But unlike them, she hadn't resented the fact that a female guard had been chosen - only that the female selected hadn't been herself. He still remembered her enormous smile the day they'd decided to topple Pandora. It was the last smile Sabin had ever seen on her face.

"The locals are unwilling to give us any information;" she said. "For some reason they consider the warriors - get this - angels and don't want to betray them."

Sabin had a hard time listening to her. She was the saddest excuse for flesh he'd ever seen.