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send him into a killing haze where no one around him was safe. Even his friends. Especially his
friends. He didn t want to, never meant to, but was sometimes helpless against urges to strike and
to maim.
Maddox
I m at the edge, Torin, he croaked. I would do more harm than good.
Maddox knew his limitations, had known them for thousands of years. Ever since that doomed
day the gods had chosen a woman to perform a task that should have been his.
Pandora had been strong, yes, the strongest female soldier of their time. But he had been
stronger. More capable. Yet he had been deemed too weak to guard dimOuniak, a sacred box
housing demons so vile, so destructive, they could not even be trusted in Hell.
As if Maddox would have allowed it to be destroyed. Frustration had bloomed inside him at
the affront. Inside all of them, every warrior now living here. They had fought diligently for the
king of the gods, killed expertly and protected thoroughly; they should have been chosen as
guards. That they hadn t was an embarrassment not to be tolerated.
They d only thought to teach the gods a lesson the night they d stolen dimOuniak from Pan-
dora and released that horde of demons upon the unsuspecting world. How foolish they had been.
Their plan to prove their power had failed, for the box had gone missing in the fray, leaving the
warriors unable to recapture a single evil spirit.
Destruction and havoc had soon reigned, plunging the world into darkness until the king of
the gods finally intervened, cursing each warrior to house a demon inside himself.
A fitting punishment. The warriors had unleashed the evil to avenge their stinging pride; now
they would contain it.
And so the Lords of the Underworld were born.
Maddox had been given Violence, the demon who was now as much a part of him as his
lungs or his heart. Now, man could no longer live without demon and demon could no longer
function without man. They were woven together, two halves of a whole.
From the very first, the creature inside him had beckoned him to do malicious things, hated
things, and he d been compelled to obey. Even when led to slay a woman to slay Pandora. His
fingers clenched the bar so tightly his knuckles nearly snapped out of place. Over the years he
had learned to control some of the demon s more vile compulsions, but it was a constant
struggle and he knew he could shatter at any moment.
What he would have given for a single day of calm. No overpowering desire to hurt others.
No battles within himself. No worries. No death. Just& peace.
It s not safe for you here, he told his friend, who still stood in the doorway. You need to
leave. He set the silver bar atop its perch and sat up. Only Lucien and Reyes are allowed to be
close to me during my demise. And only because they played a part in it, unwilling though they
were. They were as helpless against their demons as Maddox was his.
About an hour until that happens, so& Torin threw a rag at him. I ll take my chances.
Maddox reached behind his back, caught the white cloth and turned. He wiped his face.
Water.
An ice-cold bottle was soaring through the air before the second syllable left his mouth. He
caught it deftly, moisture splashing his chest. He drained the icy contents and studied his friend.
As usual, Torin wore all black and gloves covered his hands. Pale hair fell in waves to his
shoulders, framing a face mortal females considered a sensual feast. They didn t know the man
was actually a devil in angel s skin. They should have, though. He practically glowed with irrev-
erence, and there was an unholy gleam in his green eyes that proclaimed he would laugh in your
face while cutting out your heart. Or laugh in your face while you cut out his heart.
To survive, he had to find humor where he could. They all did.
Like every resident of this Budapest fortress, Torin was damned. He might not die every
night like Maddox, but he could never touch a living thing, skin to skin, without infecting it with
sickness.
Torin was possessed by the spirit of Disease.
He hadn t known a woman s touch in over four hundred years. He d learned his lesson well
when he d given in to lust and caressed a would-be lover s face, bringing about a plague that
decimated village after village. Human after human.
Five minutes of your time, Torin said, his determination clear. That s all I m asking.
Think we ll be punished for insulting the gods today? Maddox replied, ignoring the re-
quest. If he didn t allow himself to be asked for a favor, he didn t have to feel guilty for turning
it down.
His friend uttered another of those sighs. Our every breath is supposed to be a punishment.
True. Maddox s lips curled into a slow, razored smile as he peered ceilingward. Bastards.
Punish me further, I dare you. Maybe then, finally, he would fade to nothingness.
He doubted the gods would concern themselves, though. After bestowing the death-curse
upon him, they had ignored him, pretending not to hear his pleas for forgiveness and absolution.
Pretending not to hear his promises and desperate bargaining.
What more could they do to him, anyway?
Nothing could be worse than dying over and over again. Or being stripped of anything good
and right& or hosting the spirit of Violence inside his mind and body.
Jackknifing to his feet, Maddox tossed the now-wet rag and empty water bottle into the
nearest hamper. He strode to the far end of the room and braced his hands above his head, lean-
ing into the semicircular alcove of stained-glass windows and staring into the night through the
only clear partition.
He saw Paradise.
He saw hell.
He saw freedom, prison, everything and nothing.
He saw& home.
Situated atop a towering hill as the fortress was, he had a direct view of the city. Lights
glowed brightly, pinks, blues and purples illuminating the murky velvet sky, glinting off the
Danube River and framing the snowcapped trees that dominated the area. Wind blustered, snow-
flakes dancing and twirling through the air.
Here, he and the others had a modicum of privacy from the rest of the world. Here, they were
allowed to come and go without having to face a barrage of questions. Why don t you age? Why
do screams echo through the forest every night? Why do you sometimes look like a monster?
Here, the locals maintained their distance, awed, respectful. Angels, he d even heard
whispered during a rare encounter with a mortal.
If they only knew.
Maddox s nails elongated slightly, digging into the stone. Budapest was a place of majestic
beauty, old-world charm and modern pleasures, but he d always felt removed from it. From the
castle district that lined one street to the nightclubs that lined the next. From the fruits and veget-
ables hawked in one alley to the living flesh hawked in the other.
Maybe that sense of disconnection would vanish if he ever explored the city, but unlike the
others who roamed at will, he was trapped inside the fortress and surrounding land as surely as
Violence had been trapped inside Pandora s box thousands of years ago.
His nails lengthened farther, almost claws now. Thinking of the box always blackened his
mood. Punch a wall, Violence beckoned. Destroy something. Hurt, kill. He would have liked to
obliterate the gods. One by one. Decapitate them, perhaps. Rip out their blackened, decayed
hearts, definitely.
The demon purred in approval.
Of course it s purring now, Maddox thought with disgust. Anything bloodthirsty, no matter
the victims, met with the creature s support. Scowling, he leveled another heated glance at the
heavens. He and the demon had been paired long ago, but he remembered the day clearly. The
screams of the innocent in his ears, humans bleeding all around him, hurting, dying, the spirits
having devoured their flesh in a rapturous frenzy.
Only when Violence had been shoved inside his body did he lose touch with reality. There
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