Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [83]
“It doesn’t sound familiar,” Kynan said, “but I haven’t gone through even a tenth of our histories. Why is it important?”
“You asked how we could be stopped. The dagger is the only thing on Earth that can destroy us, and only if wielded by another Horseman.”
Realization dawned, and Arik whistled. “That’s why you wanted The Aegis to hold it. You didn’t want one of you to go evil and destroy the dagger before it could be used.”
“Yes. Deliverance was meant to be returned to us if one of our Seals was broken.”
“And Pestilence wants it so you guys can’t have it to kill him.”
Ares gave a sharp nod. “I believe Pestilence is torturing Guardians to get it.”
Kynan cursed. “That explains our missing Guardians.”
“He delivered one of the bodies to me this night. I’ll have Reaver take it to you.”
“Thank you.” Kynan inclined his head. “If there’s nothing else, we’ll get to work.”
Arik and Kynan strode out of the keep. The second the heavy wooden door closed, Arik hugged his ribs and groaned. “Fuck, that bitch is strong.”
Kynan’s mouth twitched in mild amusement. “You know how to pick ’em.” He slapped Arik on the shoulder. “Since I have to knock you out to move through the Harrowgate, I’ll take you to Underworld General. Eidolon can heal you.”
The idea of letting a demon fix him made him ill, but he was in too much pain to argue. Besides, Shade, Eidolon’s brother, had already healed him once. Saved his life, in fact. And the damned demon never let him forget.
“Let’s do it.”
Sixteen
After Kynan and Arik left, Cara took a seat at the table, and one of the vampires—holy crap, vampires!—brought her a ham sandwich and hot tea. Free of orc-weed, he assured, when she asked. She still had the leather-bound book Ares had given her before they left his place, A Guided Tour of Sheoul, which, though apparently written by a reasonably articulate, intelligent demon, was seriously creepy. But she was learning a lot, even if, so far, she hadn’t found anything that might help her understand hellhounds or the agimortus.
As she nibbled at the sandwich, she listened to Ares and his siblings argue about The Aegis, hellhounds, daggers, Pestilence, fallen angels… they were all over the place, like marbles on glass. And even though Cara was in the middle of it all, she felt like a serious outsider.
“You guys can feel free to ask my opinion,” she called out.
Ares strode over and pushed the uneaten portion of the sandwich closer to her. “We haven’t had to include anyone else in any decisions in a long time.” It wasn’t much of an apology, but from Ares, it was a lot.
She glanced at his brother and sister, who were pretending—badly—to not listen. “Look,” she said, lowering her voice, “I’m sorry for earlier. You’ve been trying to protect me, and I insulted you.”
Flickering light from the fire played on Ares’s face, throwing shadows in the hollows of his cheeks, and the flames danced in the black of his eyes. “You despise violence and those capable of it, don’t you?”
Cara sipped her tea to buy time. How could she explain that what she despised was what she was capable of. “Yes,” she said simply, because nothing else would come.
His hand dropped to his scabbard, his long fingers stroking his sword’s pommel like a lover, and the agimortus, which had been tingling already, kicked up a notch. “You despise me.”
“Not you.” She liked him too much. Even now, her skin was tightening as if his fingers were caressing her instead of the sword. “I despise killing.”
The sound of grinding molars joined the crackle of the fire, and then he drilled her with