Maybe a touch of Arik’s military-honed ability to recall important details was what had clung to Reaver when Gethel had separated his soul from the human’s. Interesting.

A thousand bursts of pain shot through his hand, and he looked down to see that he’d squeezed the flask so hard it had shattered. Clay shards were embedded in his palm, wrist, and fingers. Marrow wine mingled with blood and rain and ran down his arm and puddled on the parched ground at his feet.

Part of him wanted to get down on his knees and lick the wine before it seeped into the dirt. Somehow, he resisted.

Harvester was not going to win again.

Harvester flashed back to her place, where Whine was waiting for her, head bowed, eyes downcast. She’d been in a shitty mood when she’d found Reaver at Mount Megiddo, where he’d been cursing up a storm. Literally. She hadn’t wanted to see him again so soon after dropping him off, but orders were orders, and only a fool ignored Lucifer.

Feed his addiction, Lucifer had said. Keep him sodden. Easier said than done. Although she’d fed Reaver a steady diet of marrow wine while she had him in chains, he’d never asked for it, even when withdrawal tremors and fever set in. She’d stood nearby, wine in hand, waiting for him to beg.

Never once had he done so. She’d been forced to overpower him and dribble it into his mouth. Once he tasted the wine, he took it freely, but he’d possessed the incredible ability to never ask for it.

Such a proud, powerful angel.

She both admired and despised him for that.

Bitterness stung her tongue as she beckoned Whine to her. In a heartbeat he was before her, kneeling and kissing her feet. The scrape of his teeth on her skin infuriated her—the only time he was ever even a little careless in the way he touched her was when the full moon was rising in his native Hungary, which meant that she’d need to release him for three days in order for him to work off his warg energy.

Dammit. This day just kept getting better and better. Eons of planning was coming together and yet… it was so close to falling apart.

Arranging for the Aegis girl to get pregnant had been one massive gamble.

In nine months, that gamble would either pay off for Harvester or ruin her.

In nine months, the Apocalypse would either be averted… or it would break the world.

Thirty-seven

Arik stared at the empty space where Reaver had been, wondering when and if the world was going to get back to normal. His best guess amounted to when hell freezes over, and wasn’t that a joke, because if Pestilence got his way, hell was going to be right here on earth.

“Dammit,” Kynan said. “This is a mess.”

“A mess?” Arik pivoted around. “Understatement of the century, don’t you think? The Aegis is f**king lucky they didn’t break Than’s Seal with that little stunt.”

“At least we were trying to do something to stop the Apocalypse,” Kynan snapped. “The R-XR is sitting on its damned ass. By the time they act, it’ll be too late.”

The military had always been reactive rather than proactive, just like the government, but on the opposite end of the spectrum, The Aegis had always leaped before it looked. But this was old news, not worth arguing about, and ultimately, Arik’s anger wasn’t directed at Kynan. It wasn’t even directed at himself for keeping his knowledge about Regan away from Limos, though he was definitely kicking himself for that.

What it came down to was that Arik knew he had a decision to make, and it was one he never thought he’d have to face.

Kynan, who had always been able to read a situation as if he were two steps ahead of everyone, knew exactly what Arik was thinking. “You coming back to us, or not?”

“You going to make me keep secrets from my family?”

There was a long silence before Kynan sighed. “Man, I know where you’re coming from. I’m a Guardian with demons for in-laws. I’m mated to a demon. My loyalties are tested every day.”

“But?”

Ky’s denim blue eyes drilled into Arik. “But you’re in chin-deep with people who could turn on us hard if their Seals break. There are things we have to keep close to the vest.”

“I get that, and I know Limos does too.” His girl might be pissed right now, but she was far from stupid, and she understood the consequences if she went evil. “She’s not going to ask anything she knows will compromise us if her Seal breaks. But the other things… things like tricking the Horseman into getting a Guardian pregnant? Yeah, you just keep that shit to yourself, because here’s the deal—I’m not keeping anything from her.”

Never again. Secrets and lies had nearly destroyed his relationship with her and her relationship with her brothers. Hell, they could still destroy everything. She hadn’t come back yet, and he was beginning to wonder if she would.

Kynan cursed. “You know that if you were anyone else, we’d tell you to take a hike.”

“I know. But even without all my training, demon-fighting skills, and ability to learn demon languages, I’m too valuable for either the R-XR or The Aegis to lose.”

Neither organization would want to lose an intimate insider in the Horsemen’s circle. The problem was going to be that as long as Pestilence owned his soul, Arik had to be careful where he went and who he was with. The f**ker could sense him, and no way would Arik risk Pest popping in to Aegis Headquarters or some shit.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Kynan glanced at his watch. “Look, I gotta go. But we need you. We need you now more than ever. Think about it.”

Arik didn’t really need to think about it. If the pesky little Apocalypse thing hadn’t been a concern, Arik might not have considered going back, but the world needed all hands on deck right now, and he wasn’t going to turn his back on humanity.

“You’re such a dick,” Arik called out, as Kynan headed down the path toward the island’s Harrowgate. “You know what my answer is.”

Kynan didn’t turn, merely shot him the finger over his back. “I know.”

“Asshole,” Arik muttered. He rubbed his temples and braced himself for the next confrontation.

Limos. And Ares. Not only did he get to explain why he’d kept a secret from them, but he got to tell them they were going to be an aunt and uncle. Something told him this wasn’t going to be celebration-type news.

As he started for the front door, he wondered how many people would show up for his funeral.

“Hey, Arik.”

Stiffening, Arik swung around to the owner of the deep voice. “Tav? What the hell are you doing here?” The blond Sem smiled sadly, and Arik’s gut wrenched as he realized just how spot-on his last thought was. “You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

A chill slithered up Arik’s spÀp Arikine. “Why? Limos is out of her contract, so killing me is pointless.”

“The Dark Lord is pissed about that, apparently.”

“He should be. He lost out.” He’d lost big time.

Shrugging, Tavin looked Arik up and down. “You look good. Freedom agrees with you.”

“Thanks.” Okay, so it was kind of weird to have a friendly chat with the man sent to kill him. “So.”

Tavin blew out a long breath. “So.”

“How do we do this?”

“Dunno.” Tav looked genuinely perplexed, his sandy brows drawn into a deep frown over his blue eyes. “Never had to kill someone I liked before.”

“We’re quite the pair then, because I’ve never had anyone I like try to kill me.” Arik ran his hand through his hair. “This kind of sucks.”

“It’s a douche-y situation, for sure.”

Tavin reached beneath his jacket and removed a round metal disk, the edges of which looked sharp enough to remove a werewolf’s head from its body with no effort. Which was what Arik guessed was going to happen to him.

“I’m sorry about this, Arik.”

“I can’t talk you out of it, huh?”

“If I fail, bad things happen to me.” Tavin’s voice had gone monotone, which signaled a slide from friend into duty-bound soldier.

“And if you succeed, bad things happen to me.”

Arik shifted his weight and casually released the holster strap that secured the pistol at his hip. Most demons weren’t damaged by regular rounds, but he knew Sems were vulnerable to bullets. Besides, there was his old favorite saying about how firearms brought dignity to what would otherwise be just a vulgar brawl.

He was prepared to be very dignified. Not that he was opposed to vulgarity.

Tavin inclined his head, a sharp, respectful nod, and then it was on. Tavin moved like a phantom, all blur and silver shiny things. The round blade came at Arik with a whoosh of air, and he barely got his pistol free in time to use it to deflect the blade—which would have sheared the top of his skull off. As it was, it sliced through the barrel of his Beretta and knocked it from his hand.

Mother. Fuck.

Tavin flew at him, and Arik pivoted to meet the demon, who was a mass of blows and blades he must have pulled out of his ass. A million cuts sliced into Arik at once, as if he’d been tossed into a giant food processor. Hitting the ground in a tight roll, he whipped his stang out of his chest harness and sliced it across Tav’s torso.

The demon yelped and reared back, but even as Arik jammed the silver end of the weapon into the Sem’s shoulder, TaÀ shouldev shoved a nine-inch, jagged blade into Arik’s gut. He heard the slushy sound of blood, felt the gristly resistance of muscle and organs being penetrated. Staggering agony took away his breath.

Somehow, he managed to jam his knee between Tavin’s legs, and the guy barked out a curse and doubled over. Panting, groaning, Arik stabbed the demon in the back with the stang and ripped upward, cutting a seam along his ribs. The demon screamed, spun, his eyes crimson, and sank his blade into Arik’s chest.

Dizziness laid Arik flat. A black haze came over him, and damn, he was going to die, wasn’t he? He’d lived through a month of torture in Sheoul, survived Pestilence, Satan, Thanatos, and khnives.