The Darkest Promise (Lords of the Underworld #13)

Misery snickered, and Cameo wither—

No! Not this time. She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. Lazarus had given her undeniable pleasure, muting the effects of the demon. She would forgive his brutish behavior, whatever the reason for it.

But will I forget?

She flattened a hand on her stomach. His rejection had stung, yes, but it had come as a result of their kiss. The single greatest experience of her life. She would rather lose a limb than her memory.

To Viola, he said, “Tell me how to use the ring.”

“Sorry.” The goddess held out her hand, palm up. “I need to show you.”

He opened and closed his mouth. With a blistering curse, he relinquished control of the band. “If this is a trick...”

“Why would she trick you?” Cameo demanded. “Right now, we all have the same goal.”

He ignored her, wouldn’t even glance in her direction.

Viola blew her pet a kiss. “There’s no reason to worry. Mommy will return.” She waved the ring through the air, and a rift sliced into the landscape. An opening between one realm and another, wide enough for the seven-foot-tall Lazarus to step through with ease.

Cameo followed on his heels, and the goddess followed on hers. The rift closed with an audible snap.

A barren wasteland surrounded them, the heat nearly unbearable. Sweat beaded over Cameo’s skin. The ground had been scorched, the dirt black and layered with char, while tendrils of smoke curled from red-veined cracks. The sky fared no better, thick clouds leaking an oily black substance.

Viola skipped to a boulder and sat down to file her nails. “I’ve decided to bench myself. Go on without me.”

What! She’d insisted on coming, only to skip the action?

Lazarus marched over, unceremoniously removed the ring from her finger and stalked onward, all without speaking a word. And she was the one referred to as the Mother of Melancholy. He should be the Father of Pity Parties.

Cameo raced to catch up then kept pace at his side. Charred earth soon gave way to a cobbled path.

“Have you ever fought an automaton?” she asked.

“When I was a child, my father dropped me in the middle of a horde. Literally. He told me not to come home without a piece of metal and pushed me off the back of a sky serpent.”

“That’s horrible, Lazarus!”

“No. That’s life. My past forged me into the man I am today. Strong and fearless.”

“And humble?”

He nodded. “My humbleness is one of my favorite things about myself.”

A smile attempted to bloom on her face. “Would you do something so coldhearted to your own son?”

“I’ll never have children,” he replied easily.

“Because you can’t or because you don’t want any?”

“Don’t want?”

He wasn’t sure?

“Do you want children?” he asked.

She imagined herself as a mother, and Lazarus as the father. He would be protective of his brood. He would tease his little boys and girls when they cried, turning tears to laughter.

Her heart squeezed with longing.

“I do,” she admitted. “One day. But only if I’m demon-free.”

They reached a bank of gnarled trees. With Lazarus’s aid, the limbs softly slapped her cheeks. His own personal joke? Or a means of keeping her on edge rather than saddened?

He helps me, doesn’t he?

If only she could keep him. Thanks to the mirror, she knew she would lose him if she stayed here.

But what would happen after she left him?

Would she return, as planned? Would he find a way to pass through the portal? Could he?

She wished the mirror had shown her the outcome of the second option.

As she trudged forward, she made sure to step only where Lazarus stepped, but his tread was so light she often had trouble detecting his footprint.

At the end of the path, they stopped. Lazarus kept one hand in his pocket, rattling something, and used the other to hold her at his side. She shivered as she studied the terrain—a mountain with a yawning mouth, the opening of a cavern.

“I sense only one presence inside the cave,” he whispered, “but a whole lot of power.” A pause. A wicked smile to drive her mad. “Mine is stronger.”

“Since I’m more powerful than you, the metal beast doesn’t stand a chance against me.”

He snorted.

“You saying you’re more powerful than me?” she demanded.

“No, I’m not not saying you’re more powerful than me. There’s a difference.”

Funny man.

He marched inside the cavern, a dagger in hand, and once again she followed. As they moved through the darkness, the fetid stench of rot clung to the air. Severed limbs in different stages of decay tripped her.

You won’t survive the coming battle, Misery taunted. I’m going to miss you when you’re dead.

Ignore him, she told herself. Carry on.

Lazarus pressed against a rocky wall before inching around the corner, and Cameo did the same. As they moved down an incline and around another corner, odd sounds began to penetrate her awareness. Slurping? Scraping?

A light flickered at the end of the corridor. A glowing torch, she realized. They turned another corner, and discovered the walls were lined with rows of torches leading to a massive room filled with sheets and shards of what looked to be steel, titanium, tungsten and Inconel, and yet the metals possessed a light glow, as if mystical.

Like called to like.

A mighty roar blasted through the enclosure, and an enormous beast dropped from the ceiling to perch on a pile of metal. A femur dangled from the side of his mouth like a cigarette. A human femur. Eyes of crackling red flame searched...searched...

Her heart rate jacked up. An automaton of a griffin with the body, tail and back legs of a lion, but the head, front talons and wings of an eagle.

When he opened his beak to squawk, she spotted teeth. Metal spikes extended from the top of his head, jaw and underneath his chin, even flaring along the entire length of his spine. What flesh he possessed was a mix of feathers and fur. His wings could have spanned an entire football field; they glinted in the torchlight and looked as if a thousand swords had been welded together.

With a single swipe, he could sever anything in two.

“Surprise!” a voice bellowed behind them. “I’m here to help...myself to the metals.”

Cameo spun to find a grinning Viola in the cavern. “Shh.”

The griffin unleashed a bloodcurdling roar and flew toward them.

Lazarus grabbed both Cameo and Viola and flung them to the side with a single flick of his wrist. They smacked into one of the piles, knocking it down. The cold metal rained over them, and Cameo yelped.

No wonder Lazarus hadn’t complained about her company. He’d planned to incapacitate her all along.

Another roar echoed, one of excitement. A whoosh of air, the flap of wings. A grunt.

Lazarus was fighting the griffin on his own. Any other day, he might have won. Today, a butterfly had landed on him.

She had to help him.