There might not be a better chance to strike. He should give chase. But as he prepared to flash away, he realized Cameo hadn't returned his embrace. He frowned and pulled back to look her over.
Misery pulsed from her. Her silver eyes were dull, her expression contorted with pain.
The demon had taken over.
Her gaze met his, tears trapped in her lashes. "Kill me," she whispered. "Please."
23
"You cannot take a strong man's castle without first weakening him. Once you've taken it, give it to your woman for safe-keeping."
--The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy
Misery consumed Cameo. In every sense of the word. The demon reminded her of a family of termites; she was the crumbling house, her foundation already riddled with holes. Every hour--every minute--he reminded her of every torture she'd ever endured. Of Alex's death and Lazarus's doom.
My fault. All my fault.
One hundred percent of the population feels they would be better off without you...
During the fight with Juliette, Cameo had done the unthinkable. She'd allowed Misery to fill her with the worst of his sorrows, pricking the worst of her regrets. The overflow had spilled out, vanquishing her opponent. But victory had come at a terrible price. Dark thoughts now mired Cameo's mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't escape them.
No hope, no hope. She no longer believed she could live a better life. Lazarus was dying, crystals growing inside his veins, and she had no idea how to save him.
Her mind hurt. Her soul hurt. Who was she kidding? Every part of her hurt. Misery used her fear and grief for Lazarus, playing her heart like a violin.
"A terrible melody haunts her," she'd heard Lazarus explain to her friends. He was right. She'd never felt so alone or helpless.
Logically she knew the feelings were a lie. Of course she knew. Her friends loved her and would do anything in their power to aid her. Lazarus had said he planned to stay with her for the remainder of his days. But truth and logic meant nothing right now.
Tears spilled down her cheeks and tremors rocked her. She lay in bed with no idea how Lazarus had gotten her home. Not because the demon had wiped her memory, but because she had retreated mentally. One day bled into another, the agony inside her never easing.
Through it all, she had no desire to eat or drink--just let me die--but Lazarus the Cruel and Unusual forced food and water down her throat. She would have fought him, but she lacked the energy.
She had no desire to shower, either, but more than once he'd carried her to the bathroom stall, stripped her and soaped her off. Again, she'd lacked the energy to fight him. Not that it mattered. He'd never made a pass at her and she...hadn't cared. Didn't care. Really.
He often paced through the room with swords strapped to his back and daggers in hand, as if he expected Hera or his father to pop in. His last two enemies, not counting Misery, who he'd threatened a time or twenty.
Cameo dozed fitfully, her dreams turbulent. The demon loved to show her ways she could be hurt. For the past few nights she'd seen Lazarus's funeral on constant repeat.
When she awoke, Maddox sat in a chair beside her bed and glared at her. "Want me to throw your visitor out the window?"
"You may try," Lazarus responded on her behalf. "Also, I'm not the visitor here. You are. What's hers is mine."
"You speak like a husband," Maddox snapped. "I don't recall attending a wedding."
"I speak like her man. Exactly what I am."
"Then do a better job of taking care of her!"
Lazarus unleashed a string of curses, and Maddox responded in kind. Both males were vicious beasts clearly vying for the title of king of the jungle.
As keeper of Violence, Maddox had a temper more volatile than most. The big brute stomped toward Lazarus, menace radiating from him. Cameo watched, detached from the situation...but also enraptured by it.
Lazarus met him halfway, completely unfazed. As soon as they were within reach, he used Maddox's thigh as a step stool, wrapping a leg around the warrior's neck, shifting his weight and pushing the warrior to the floor. Upon landing, he rolled, tossing Maddox onto his back and standing to loom over her friend.
With a roar, Maddox kicked him in the chest, sending him flinging backward. In seconds, both males were on their feet and throwing punches. A spectacular display of masculine aggression, yes, but one she should stop.
To do so, she would have to speak. If she spoke, she would only make things worse.
Can't win. Destined to hurt everyone around me.
Besides, if Lazarus wanted to kill Maddox, the male would be dead. Ripped to ribbons like the griffin. His skill awed her.
The guys continued fighting, razing her room, destroying every piece of furniture, including the bed. One of the posters toppled and the footboard cracked, jamming the mattress at an odd angle. If Lazarus hadn't locked her mirror in her closet earlier, she would have lost it, too.
In the end, Lazarus snapped Maddox's neck--a fact that sent the other warriors in residence over the edge. Aeron and the newly returned Paris rushed into the room.
"What the--"
"You had no right!"
Another fight broke out.
Lazarus won that battle, too, though not as quickly or as easily. His motions had slowed as if he'd been weakened. Maybe he had. Those crystals...
Going to lose him one way or another.
The rest of her family raced into her bedroom, spotted Maddox, Aeron and Paris unconscious on her floor--and gales of laughter soon rang out. Funny thing. The laughter only darkened her mood.
No fair! They do what I can't.
What you will never do, Misery vowed.
Lucien, keeper of Death, patted Lazarus on the shoulder. At some point, he, too, must have returned from the underworld. "I like you. I like you a lot."
Galen leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, well, I don't think he likes you."
Lazarus pointed an accusing finger at the warrior. "Your Hunters once cut out Cameo's tongue."
"I know." The handsome blond spread his arms. "You're welcome."
A ferocious growl echoed throughout the room, the promise of a bad, bad death. The most feminine part of her responded to the sound, and she thought, hoped, she would pull herself from the depths of sorrow...but she failed.
"Hey," Galen added. "She is who she is because of her past. Do you like who she is or not?"
Her ears perked as she waited for the answer.
"I...do," Lazarus admitted grudgingly.
He likes me! Again she tried to pull herself up, but again she failed.
"Wow. Galen isn't wrong." Anya leveled a disgusted look at Lucien, her fiance. "Does this mean I have to forgive the bastard for letting his people spear me to a wall?"
"No," Lucien said. At the same time, Galen said, "Yes!"
Torin, who used to remain inside his own room no matter what happened, stood in the midst of the crowd. Since he'd learned his blood contained the antidote to his demon's disease, he'd become a lot more social.
Removing his leather gloves, he moved toward Galen. Then, with a wicked smile, he patted the winged man on the cheek.
Galen reared back.
Torin darted out of the room, calling, "Good luck getting a dose of my blood, sucker."
Galen cursed and chased after him.
A spark of irritation heated Cameo's chest. The teasing was worse than the laughter. They were having fun, playing, while she suffered horribly.
As if sensing her change in mood, Lazarus eased onto the mattress, sitting beside her, and linked their fingers. He rubbed his thumb over her bruised knuckles. "Come back to me."
She tried. She tried so hard, desperate to do this for him. But the sorrow remained, clawing and ripping at her, leaving her insides bloody. Tears filled her eyes, and her chin trembled.
He opened his mouth to say more, but Sabin stepped forward and clapped once, twice. "All right. The party
is over. We're all part of the same team, and we've got things to discuss." He was the original warmonger, always putting business before pleasure. "Over the past week, two new battles have waged between Hades and Lucifer. Hades won the first round, thanks to Katarina's hellhounds. They enjoyed a sweet little game called Fetch the Femur, ripping through enemy ranks to collect their prizes. The second round was a draw with massive losses on both sides."
Murmurs and speculations arose. How to ambush Lucifer, leader of the Harbingers--those who granted foreknowledge. How to achieve maximum results. The interaction only saddened Cameo further.
These men and women were a unit. Part of the same team, as Sabin had said. Cameo had forever been on the fringes.
"Out," Lazarus bellowed, his hard voice echoing from the walls. "Now. Everyone."
Protests erupted. When he leaped to his feet, those protests ended and footsteps sounded.
Ashlyn alone remained. Well, Ashlyn and the unconscious men on the floor. No one had bothered to drag them out. The woman took Lazarus's place on the bed.
He stared at her, doing his best to intimidate her, but she remained far from cowed.
"My husband is napping a few feet away. I'm staying, and I'm going to help my friend," she said. "Try to stop me. Dare you."
She had a gift. When she stepped into a room, she could hear every conversation that had ever taken place inside it. Considering she'd just used Lazarus's own words against him, she must have heard some of the things the warrior had said to Cameo.