Rogue Rider

  Jillian!

  Reseph spun to where she’d been standing, ignoring Pestilence’s cackling laughter. Blood splattered the floor, but Jillian was okay. Reaver must have shoved her behind him. The angel, on the other hand, was clutching his belly, from which a dinner plate–sized piece of metal jutted.

  Funny.

  Reseph wanted to help. Wanted to say he was sorry. But Pestilence had taken away his voice. He felt like a spectator as his own hand reached out in a come to Papa gesture, and suddenly, all of his armor ripped free of the walls, the furniture, from bodies, and snapped back into place.

  We are so strong, Pestilence shouted. We can rule the heavens now!

  First things first, Reseph reminded him. We need to destroy Lucifer.

  The power-hungry demon purred his approval. And with the two amulets and Lucifer’s blood, we can break the barrier between Heaven and Sheoul.

  The container that had housed Pestilence was wide open and empty. Reseph knew, without a doubt, that when the battle with Lucifer was over, the battle for freedom would begin. One of them would return to the container.

  Reluctantly, Reseph let Pestilence take over. Pestilence’s pure evil vibe would give them an advantage, and they needed every extra edge they could get.

  But Reseph refused to go too deep, terrified that if he buried himself too heavily under Pestilence, he’d never be able to claw his way back out.

  At the living room door, Pestilence, that bastard, halted. Very slowly he turned to Jillian, and Reseph felt Pestilence’s twisted lust heat his groin.

  The parking lot incident flashed through Reseph’s head—Jillian’s screams, her terror, Pestilence’s sick anticipation. The things he had planned to do to her after the Soulshredders were done…

  “No!” Reseph lurched toward her, but someone shoved him outside the house, and Pestilence took over, laughing his fucking ass off.

  They cut a swath through the army of demons, kicking at the ones who didn’t bow deeply enough and beheading the ones who didn’t bow at all.

  Lucifer, standing atop the shallow rise at the rear of the army, grinned as they approached. “Back for more? Or are you here to surrender?”

  “Neither.” The voice coming from Reseph’s mouth was smoky and harsh, singing with power, and Lucifer’s expression fell.

  “Pestilence.” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “What trick is this? I feel power around you.”

  “Trick?” Pestilence’s and Reseph’s speech and thoughts were in perfect sync, and for the first time, Reseph realized how intertwined they really were. “We’re here to bleed you dry, you prick.”

  Lucifer didn’t hesitate. He shed his human skin and morphed into a massive, veiny beast, its wingspan nearing thirty feet, its horns jutting out of its skull like the world’s largest bull. With a lightning-quick wave of his clawed hand, a bolt of lava-hot electricity shot through Reseph’s armor. Pain ripped through him, but it was dull, as if divided between Pestilence and him.

  “You silly fuck.” Again, Reseph and Pestilence were in sync. “We have the power of Heaven behind us, as well as the power of hell.” He cocked his head at Lucifer. “You die now.”

  Reseph launched at Lucifer, punching through one of the demon’s leathery wings, crushing bones, shredding skin. Lucifer roared in fury, raking his serrated claws across Reseph’s face and flaying open his cheek. He healed almost instantly, which was super cool.

  The pendants around his neck vibrated and began to glow bright enough to cast light deep into the forest beyond. Lucifer’s gaze dropped to the stones, and with a hiss, he stumbled backward.

  “Heofon.” Lucifer’s voice quivered, and Pestilence nearly came at the fear and envy mingling in Lucifer’s words. “Give it to me.”

  “As if.” Reseph snorted. “Do you think we can deal now?”

  Pestilence laughed, aware that Reseph was fucking with the demon.

  “Heofon for the lives of your families,” Lucifer said.

  “I have a better idea.” Pestilence thrust his sword through Lucifer’s abdomen. “Your death for a gate between Heaven and Sheoul.”

  No! Reseph screamed, helpless to stop Pestilence. Blood splashed onto the amulets and sudden power sang through Reseph like a tuning fork, the rush of unlimited strength filling his body. It was like a drug… a damned-near orgasmic drug that stroked every one of Reseph’s pleasure centers. Not just stroked them, but sucked them off and swallowed.

  Ah… damn… so… good.

  Pestilence rose up, taking full control. As if in a fog—a fog of euphoria—Reseph watched his sword hack apart Lucifer. The fallen angel wasn’t going to die from blows alone… hell, nothing Pestilence could do would actually kill Lucifer.

  But Pestilence wouldn’t have to.

  The very air surrounding them warped, turning everything outside their bubble of normalcy into contorted reflections from funhouse mirrors. A churning wind spun up, swirling around them like a tornado. It shot upward, piercing the sky and stretching toward the heavens. Beneath their feet, the ground fell away, leaving them hovering over a black hole that plunged straight into hell.

  The gate. Holy fuck, the gate!

  Lucifer screamed as the whirling tornado snatched him, bit by bit, pulling him apart and sucking pieces of his body into the maelstrom. Red streaks discolored the translucent vortex as his blood spun higher and higher.

  The last chunk of Lucifer, a section of his skull, disappeared into the wind. It would be only minutes until the gate was fully opened, and hordes from hell could swarm into Heaven.

  “Stop!” Reseph clawed at Pestilence, hammered at his mind, but it was like trying to wake from a nightmare. This was a repeat of being helpless as Pestilence committed atrocities for an entire year. He couldn’t go through that again. The difference was that during the year Pestilence had been at the helm Reseph hadn’t been this close to the surface. Reseph also hadn’t believed he had so much to fight for.

  Now he did. He had brothers and a sister, in-laws, a nephew, and another niece or nephew on the way. A father. A mate—if Jillian would have him, anyway. He couldn’t lose any of those people.

  If he could just… force… Pestilence—

  “Reseph!”

  Jillian?

  In excruciatingly slow motion, Reseph turned around. Jillian stood outside the vortex, her hair blowing wildly, her eyes shot wide with terror. And yet, she stood strong, a warrior facing almost certain death.

  Pestilence smiled. “We’re going to kill you, human whore.”

  Shut up!

  Pestilence didn’t listen. “Your screams will be the theme music for the demon march to Heaven.”

  Jillian held out her hand. “Take me then. Finish what you started.”

  Jillian, no!

  Reseph watched in horror as Pestilence reached out and yanked Jillian into the vortex.

  Jillian had thought she was prepared to do this. To face down the thing that terrified her the most in hopes of helping Reseph fight to defeat Pestilence.

  But as Pestilence tugged her against him, his cold grin sending shivers down her spine, she knew she was in way over her head.

  “Reseph,” she cried, “I know you’re in there.”

  “Oh, he’s in here.” Pestilence twined her hair in his fist and yanked her head back, nearly snapping her neck. “And he doesn’t care what I do to you.”

  Reaver had warned her that Pestilence would lie to her, try to hurt her any way he could, and clearly, the angel had been right. She hadn’t needed the warning though; she knew Reseph too well.

  “Fight, Reseph—”

  Pestilence jerked her head viciously to the side, exposing her throat, and then he exposed her chest when he tore open her shirt.

  “We’re going to have some fun, Jillian.”

  “Reseph!”

  A godawful roar erupted from Pestilence, and the evil glow in his eyes dimmed. Reseph. It was Reseph!

  “Baby,” he croaked. “Get out… get… out.” He shoved h
er, but she hooked her leg around his and clung to his arm with all her strength. Awkwardly, she reached up and swept her fingers over his armor scar the way Limos had told her to do.

  In less time than it took for Sam to stomp his big foot, Reseph’s armor disappeared, and he looked down, confused. He seemed to be a mix of Reseph and Pestilence now, as if they were sharing equal power. She took advantage, snatching Wormwood from the waistband of her jeans and bringing it up to Reseph’s chest.

  She’d sworn to Reseph’s siblings that she’d destroy Pestilence if she had to, but dammit, she knew it wouldn’t come to that. She had faith that Reseph would beat that bastard himself.

  “Bitch!” Pestilence hissed. Bitterly cold breath stung her cheeks as he leaned in. “I’m going to flay you—” His head snapped to the side as if he’d been struck.

  Reseph broke through, wrapping his hand around Jillian’s. “Do it,” he croaked. “Please.” Jillian struggled, but she was no match for his strength as he pressed in, and the tip of the blade penetrated his skin.

  Reseph’s expression contorted, his eyes alternating between glowing malevolence and the intense cleverness that always glittered in Reseph’s gaze. The internal battle raged, and even though Jillian was plastered to his body, she was somehow in the middle of the struggle, sometimes her grip on the dagger being peeled away, and sometimes being forced tighter.

  “Arik’s soul,” Reseph bit out. “Release Arik’s soul and I’ll ditch the dagger.”

  Pestilence must have refused. The dagger in her hand sliced forward, plunging deep into Reseph’s flesh.

  “No!” She tried to pull Wormwood free, but Reseph was holding it steady. Sweat dampened his pale skin, and his teeth were clenched hard.

  “Fuck you, Pestilence.” Reseph smiled down at Jillian, although it was really more of a grimace. “Another centimeter in and we’re both done. You know I’ll do it. Release Arik’s soul now.”

  Reseph’s body went slack, but only for a heartbeat. In another heartbeat, she was thrown clear of the vortex, landing hard on the sheet of ice that had formed in a thirty-yard circle around them. The demon army had long since disappeared, sucked away when the freaky tornado had taken form. Instead, Thanatos, Limos, Ares, Arik, Kynan, Tracker, and the two Watchers were standing nearby.

  They ran toward her, but her focus was on Reseph, who was still inside the cyclone. Something seemed to be wrong, though… or maybe right?

  He was twisting in what looked like agony, grabbing his head and tearing at his hair. He yanked Wormwood out of his chest with a bellow of victory, and then the dagger was spinning up into the sky. Shrill screeches, like a million crows cawing, erupted from deep below the ground.

  Revenant laughed. “Satan’s forces are coming. The gate is open!”

  “Reseph!” she screamed.

  Reseph threw himself against the wall of the tornado, over and over, clutching his head as the noises grew louder.

  “Please! You can do this.” Jillian’s voice was a sob now as despair squeezed her in its grip.

  Throwing back his head, Reseph roared. The vortex wobbled, just a little. Another roar, and the wobble moved the entire thing several feet. Sections of it began to disintegrate, and the wobbling grew more violent.

  Jillian shoved to her feet. “Reseph?”

  He hurled himself out, landing in front of her, his body bruised and bloody. Groaning, he twisted around to look at her.

  With Pestilence’s eyes.

  Swallowing her fear, Jillian framed his face in her hands. “I love you. Come back to me.” Without thinking, she kissed him.

  Startled, he pulled back, but she didn’t let him go. She kept her mouth on his, kissing him hard, kissing him in a frenzied, last-ditch effort to bring back the Horseman she loved.

  For a beautiful moment, he kissed her back, his lips tender, his tongue a fleeting brush against hers. Elation warmed her, fed into her hope that this was it. This was Reseph winning—

  Stinging pain seared her mouth. He’d bitten her lip. She tasted blood, felt her world crash down around her.

  “Jillian.” Reseph’s voice dripped with agony. He reared back, a snarl tearing from his throat. “You. Will. Not. Win!”

  Reaching up, he gripped the two chains around his neck and yanked them hard enough to snap the links.

  As if the air had been let out of a giant balloon, everything went still and eerily quiet. The tornado disappeared as if it had never been, the gate closed, and Reseph collapsed onto the ice.

  “Reseph?” She brushed his hair away from his face, willing him to open his eyes. “Are you okay? Talk to me.”

  When he didn’t move, she put her ear to his chest. What if Wormwood had worked? Please don’t be dead… please don’t be dead…

  He had a heartbeat. Thank God, he was alive, but why wasn’t he moving? “Reseph!” She shook his shoulders, and his eyes popped open.

  An exhausted smile curved his lips. “Hey, babe.”

  She threw herself at him. Covered his body with hers and just held on. “Please tell me it’s over. Please.”

  His arms came around her. “It’s over,” he rasped. “I beat the bastard. It was like mental arm wrestling, but I did it.”

  “Are you sure?” Thanatos crouched a few feet away, the broken chain belonging to the evil stone dangling from his hand. “Pestilence is contained?”

  “Yeah. I repaired the vessel.”

  Jillian’s breath trembled out of her. “Vessel?”

  “Long story.” Reseph looked up at Jillian, his gaze so tender it brought tears to her eyes. “It was you, Jillian. I honestly don’t know if I’d have had the strength to overcome him, but I couldn’t let him hurt you. And I couldn’t let what he’d done keep haunting me and cracking the container.”

  She buried her face in his neck, not caring about any strange container. What mattered was that he’d won. “I knew you could do it. I never doubted you.”

  “Arik, you got your soul back.” Reseph smoothed his palm up and down her back. “I know it doesn’t make up for everything—”

  “Hey.” Arik cut off Reseph. “I think it’s time we all start over.”

  “I agree,” Jillian murmured. “I’m ready for a fresh start.” She pushed up and looked down at her blood-streaked skin and torn shirt. “And a shower.”

  Reseph grinned. “I’m in.”

  “Jesus,” Ares muttered. “A whopping two minutes have passed since you nearly started a war between Heaven and Sheoul and you’re already getting frisky?”

  “It wasn’t me who nearly started the war,” Reseph said. “It was Pestilence.”

  Jillian tightened her arms around him, relief settling over her in the first pure, warm peace she’d felt in a long time. This was truly the first time he’d acknowledged that Pestilence had been the source of evil in every event. Yes, she knew he’d always harbor guilt for everything that had happened, but the victory today had gone a long way toward healing a devastating wound.

  “And,” Reseph continued, “Do you even know me? Hellooo… I’m naked, with a drop-dead gorgeous female lying on top of me. I’m not made of stone, you know.”

  Jillian’s cheeks heated as a chorus of groans came from all sides.

  “Yeah… that’s our cue to leave,” Limos said. She smiled down at Jillian and Reseph. “Thanks, Jillian. We all owe you. And Reseph? Good to have you back.”

  They all offered some sort of thanks and acknowledgment that Reseph was back… except Revenant. He looked like he’d swallowed a rotten egg as he flashed away with a snarl.

  Reaver went down on his heels, taking the malador from Thanatos and tossing Heofon to Kynan. “I’m proud of you, Reseph.” The angel squeezed Reseph’s shoulder and brushed the pads of his fingers over Jillian’s cheek. “Take care.”

  And then he was gone, flashing away in a burst of golden light.

  “I hate it when he takes off like that,” Kynan muttered. He gestured toward Jillian’s house. “I’ll handle the Aegis situ
ation and arrange for repairs to your house. You two… get a room for the night somewhere. You deserve it.”

  He tucked Heofon in his coat pocket and strode away. Tracker inched closer, but kept his gaze averted. “Mistress, I can take care of the animals and bed down in the barn.”

  “That’s not necessary—”

  “Please.”

  Reseph tapped on Jillian’s shoulder, and when she caught his eye, he nodded. She sighed. “Okay, Tracker. For tonight. Tomorrow we’ll work something else out.” Looking like she’d given him a reprieve from death, he took off at a run. “What was that about?”

  “He doesn’t know anything else,” Reseph explained. “Slaves in Sheoul don’t know kindness. When they get it, it’s always followed by pain. He’s not used to being treated well, and it’s making him uncomfortable.”

  “That’s horrible.” And familiar. She stared after the werewolf, thinking about how she’d been wary when men were charming and nice, because inevitably, she’d get hurt. It had taken Reseph to change that, and somehow, she’d show Tracker that kindness didn’t have to hurt.

  Sighing, she looked down at Reseph. His eyes were liquid, and on her back, his hands quivered. Alarm rang through her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he whispered. “Everything’s right. So right.”

  “Because of your family? Because they’re welcoming you back?”

  “Yeah.” Caging her in his strong arms, he rolled her onto her back, his muscled weight a welcome indulgence. The chill of the ice barely registered as he settled himself between her legs. “And because of you. A few days ago I had nothing but revenge to keep my heart beating. Now I have my family back, and I have you.” He paused. “I do have you, right?”

  “Oh, yes.” She trailed her fingers over his jaw, loving the way he rubbed against them. “I said I wanted the Reseph I found in the snowbank, and here you are.”

  “But I’m not exactly him,” he said, an emotional warble in his voice revealing his fear. “So much has happened since then—”