Dreams of a Dark Warrior

…
    “They’ll fill you with doubt,” Webb continued, “make you question your mission. Is it already happening?”
    Making his voice like steel, he said, “Absolutely not, sir.” He refused to elaborate, refused to try to convince Webb to see that he was still solid.
    He remained staunch, his hatred stoked as hot as ever.
    “Good.” Webb exhaled a relieved breath. “In any case, I’m arriving next week.”
    Next bloody week? No! Not that soon.
But knowing it was inevitable, Declan said, “Very good, sir.”
Have to beat this obsession with the Valkyrie.
Webb would see through Declan’s indifferent guise in a heartbeat.
    “I look forward to viewing the new addition to your collection. Is everything on schedule for Malkom Slaine’s capture?”
    My next acquisition.
Slaine was a vampiric demon,a
made
immortal creature. Through some unknown ritual, a demon could be poisoned with a vampire’s blood, gifting it with the strengths of both species. Colloquially known as vemons, they were rumored to be the most powerful of the beings in the Lore, stronger even than a Lykae in his prime.
    There were only four known vemons alive. Declan wanted to destroy them and forever bury the knowledge of their genesis.
    “We’ve set the plan in motion.” Declan had dispatched Carrow the witch to Slaine’s home—a hell plane called Oblivion—in order to lure him into a trap. In return, he’d promised to free her and her young cousin.
    An easy lie. After his hellish entrancement, Declan held a singular hatred for witches. And the young one had already killed twenty soldiers with her unearthly powers.
    Carrow was due back in less than a week. He gave her a six-in-ten chance of succeeding. “Everything’s on schedule, sir.”
    “Excellent. And while I’m there, you and I are going to take some time off. We’ll have a proper visit outside of work and all this madness.”
    To talk about sports and women?
Declan had no life outside of work. None. Still he said, “I look forward to it.”
    Once they hung up, Declan glanced around his chamber. This room represented his entire life outside of his job. The facility itself was his life’s work. Now he was in jeopardy of losing it all.
    Truly, how much is there to lose, Dekko?
No family, no friends. No woman of his own.
    No peace. For as long as Declan could remember, he’d craved some kind of ease inside himself. Though he’d never experienced it, he could somehow
imagine
what it would feel like not to know constant misery.
    Declan had seen men with an expression that said
All is right in the world,
had envied them their contentment. His own da had had that confident, satisfied mien. At least, before Declan had started having nightmares as a boy. Once he’d begun running with that gang at fourteen, his da never had it again.
    Listening to the Valkyrie’s tales, simply being near her, was the closest Declan had ever come to it. And tonight’s dream …
    His mind whispered,
Why not enjoy her?
    No! She was undermining his resolve. And with that fall would go any pride he’d managed to salvage over the last twenty years. Whatever power she wielded, he would resist it.
    Another of those creatures controlling him again?
Never.
    She would not break him. His will was stronger than hers. Than anyone’s.
    I’ll break
her.
    And
that
was the reason—the only one—that he still burned to see her.

TWENTY-ONE

    Y ou’ve, uh, used all your dares, ma’am,” Thad murmured.
    “And you’ve used all your truths, Tiger,” Natalya countered throatily. “So ask me a truth.”
    It’s too early in the morning for this,
Regin thought, bemoaning her second week in this hell hole. She lay on the top bunk, trying to ignore the latest episode of
Good Boy Gone Bad,
guest-starring Natalya, whose voice had turned porn-queenesque.
    And Thad truly was a good boy. Over these unending days, he’d proved to be both affable and kind. At least when not faced with mind-bending sights like the Cerunnos or bewinged and behorned demons.
    He’d also proved curious. A typical conversation between him and Regin:
    “Is there a drinking age in the Lore?”
    “Nope. Your high-school self can get slizzard on Zimas every night.”
    “Is there marriage?”
    “Well, sometimes. It’s species-dependent, I guess.”
    “Church?”
    “Define
church
.”
    But he was starting to flag, with shadows under hiseyes, and he’d lost weight. He ate none of the slop the Order served him and Natalya. His jeans