Page 9

9

Six months later

S till dressed in his bloody black spiny armor, Thorn stood in front of his fireplace, pouring himself a well-needed drink.

The doors behind him swung open so forcefully that they rattled on their hinges and preceded a wind sweeping through the room with such ferocity that it put out the fire and froze his armor.

There was only one person he knew who would have that audacity. “Something wrong, Father?” He turned slowly to confront the angry giant.

“How could you!”

Thorn set his frozen wine and goblet on the mantle, and prepared to be dragged across the proverbial bridge. “I asked your permission.”

“To assemble an army. Yes. To use that army to fight my soldiers … you knew I’d never agree to such.”

Thorn shrugged with a nonchalance that was probably suicidal. But really, he didn’t care. “You’re the one who failed to ask questions.”

Noir drew back to hit him.

Thorn caught his wrist before he could complete that blow. “Think before you strike. I’m not one of your demons, and I don’t take a hit without dealing one back in turn. Father or not.”

That caught his father off-guard and was enough that Noir dropped his hand. “Your audacity is without equal.”

“I’m the product of my breeding. If you have issues with it, perhaps you should look inward.”

“You are a cheeky bastard.”

Rolling his eyes, Thorn turned and headed for his own throne. “Do you have something more productive than insulting me?”

Noir’s nostrils flared. “I want my army back.”

“I like them where they are. I find that a private army suits me.”

“Of course, you do, you brat. You were supposed to be your sister’s general. Not off on this … I don’t even know what to call it.”

“Youth rebellion. I’m told it’s natural for a child to refuse to follow in the footsteps of their parents. Especially when they don’t agree with them.”

That made Noir’s eyes turn a vibrant red. “You are a warlord.”

Thorn steeled himself at something he’d once taken pride in. But those days were gone. “ Was , Father. I was a warlord.”

“And what are you now?”

“The thorn that nettles you every time you move.” He recklessly smirked. “I want your agreement that in the future I’m able to redeem the soldiers I pick for my army.”

Aghast, Noir’s jaw dropped. “You want what ?”

“An out for those who’ve been damned. Not just here in Azmodea, but in other hell realms, too.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Given my relationship to you and Azura, it’s a good bet.”

Noir shook his head. “I don’t have the authority to grant you that.”

“Yes, you do. You have diplomatic agreements with other dark gods and Chthonians. I want your word that you’ll back me for negotiating redemption for my people.”

“Why would I do such a thing? They were damned for a reason.”

“True. But it seems to me that if a single act could damn someone to hell, then an equally good or decent act should be able to save them.”

Noir crossed the room to tower over him. An act of intimidation that only served to solidify Thorn’s resolve. “I curse the day I created you.”

“Makes sense, I’ve hated every day I’ve been alive.” And the fact that he was immortal infuriated him all the more. It wasn’t fair that death would never spare him this misery.

Noir’s eyes turned red again. “Do you know what I do to those who cross me?”

“Given that one of my brothers is enslaved to the Malachai and the other cursed by you, I have a pretty good idea.”

“And they are full gods, like your sister. You …”

“Half human. Did you think that would make me weaker?”

By the light in Noir’s eyes, Thorn would say yes.

Fine. Half human or not, he refused to cower. “If you want me dead, old man, kill me. Do us both a favor.”

Noir’s eyes glowed infernal in the dim light. “Why have you chosen to live here?”

Thorn started to lie or answer to aggravate him. Instead, the truth was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I don’t belong anywhere else.” No one had ever wanted him.

His mother had looked on him with fear and Tesiah had viewed him as a legacy.

As for Noir …

He scowled as he considered Thorn’s words. “You came seeking a father?”

That was a bitter truth that stung them both. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Then why won’t you obey me?”

Thorn let out a ragged breath. “Grown children don’t obey. Besides, because of you, everything I thought I was and everything I thought I knew has been stripped from me. All I have left is my integrity. If I lose it, then I’ll lose me, too. And that I don’t want to do.”

That seemed to confuse Noir. “You don’t hate me?”

“I don’t know you, Father. But I was hoping to learn something about you other than rumors and lies.”

“So that you can hate me?”

Thorn shook his head at Noir’s insistence that Thorn would find nothing redeeming in his sperm donor. And maybe he wouldn’t. Only time would tell. But Thorn at least wanted to learn something about the creature who’d donated his DNA to his existence.

“That wasn’t my plan. I never hated Tesiah, until he turned on me. Now I hate them all.”

Noir considered that. “He abused you horribly.”

That was putting it mildly. “He was my father. Love and pain are rather synonymous to me. Hatred I reserve for those who earn it. Since you haven’t turned on me, I don’t hate you … yet. Insults and hostility don’t matter.” They were all he knew and they meant nothing.

Noir paused as he let those words sink in. All his children hated him. Dagon cursed him constantly and justifiably so given what he’d done to the god. Falcyn had turned on him centuries ago.

Laguerre …

She might serve him, but she held no love where he was concerned, and he knew it. Her heart was too cold. Just like her mother’s.

But Thorn was another matter. Was it because his mother had been human? Did it give him a greater capacity for love?

What do you need with such a petty thing?

He didn’t. He was an all-powerful god. And yet as he watched his son, he felt a peculiar sensation in his chest. A kind of pain, and something more. He couldn’t really describe it. Could it be paternal affection? To his knowledge, he’d never had that before.

Even though he was angry at Thorn, he didn’t have his usual need to beat or destroy him. Noir had never in his existence allowed anyone to speak to him the way Thorn did.

He had no idea why he put up with Thorn’s attitude or rebellion. Really, it made no sense at all.

Unless it was the mysterious emotion called love.

“If it makes you feel better, Father, I’m pissing off the Nasāru more than I am you by redeeming the damned.”

Actually, it did make him feel better. A lot better. “Are you?”

Thorn nodded. “They despise the idea that someone damned might be able to escape their punishment.”

A wave of … happiness? Yes, it was actual enjoyment that swept through him. “I like that.”

Thorn winked at him. “Knew you would.”

Noir took a second to reevaluate his fury at his child … a child he shared with no one.

There was another thought he’d never had before. His other children were born from goddesses. Each of their mothers had an equal sway with them. Even if they hated their mothers, their mothers were still there.

Forever.

But Thorn’s mother was dead.

This child belonged exclusively to Noir.

For the first time in his existence, he felt a peculiar need to protect someone.

Thorn is mine alone . But the last thing he could afford was for Thorn to know that he held any tenderness toward him. That would make Noir weak.

Vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, he stepped back. “Very well. I’ll allow you to continue angering the Nasāru.”

Thorn bit back a smile at his father’s surly tone. He’d seen the look in his father’s eyes. It was the same one Tesiah held whenever he came home victorious after battle. A subtle pride that would never be acknowledged.

Strange how similar the two of them were. Noir thought himself a monster and in many ways he was. But there was something beneath the beast that neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

Like Thorn, a creature of his birthright and environment. Even though Thorn hadn’t spent much time with his mother, she had still taught him things Tesiah never had. Morality. Justice. Strength.

Not just physical brutality. The ability to show mercy on those he defeated. On those who were weaker.

While Tesiah had done his best to beat those traits out of him, he preferred to see the world through the eyes of his tiny mother.

So, he did what would have made his mother happy, he held his hand out to his father. “Friendly enemies, then?”

Noir took his arm and jerked him forward. Quicker than Thorn could blink, Noir hugged him, then shoved him away. “We never speak of this. It didn’t even happen.”

Stunned, Thorn had no response or reaction before Noir vanished.

Okay, then.

Had his father really hugged him, or had he hallucinated the whole thing?

He’d taken enough hits in battle that he could be imagining it. Anything was possible.

But one thing he was rather sure had happened. His father had approved his army of Hellchasers.

If for no other reason so that Thorn could anger both their enemies.

He was now free to find damned souls in need of redemption. Those who’d been good people forced by others into a bad situation.

They deserved that chance to save themselves and not be damned by circumstances.

And deep down in a place he didn’t want to look, he knew exactly why this was so important to him. Because he was hoping that someway, somehow, he might be worthy of forgiveness one day, too. That maybe, just once, he’d be able to sleep without hearing the screams of the innocent lives he’d taken.

For Tesiah, he’d committed unspeakable acts that would have damned him had he been mortal.

My soul is too black to be redeemed . But maybe the others might find the salvation he knew he’d never be worthy of.