Who am I?
"Go...away," he managed to repeat.
"Why are you in here pouting like a baby?" William asked. "Are you missing your demon?"
A few times, he'd thought he...might. The arrival of his new companion had set him straight.
Now Distrust possessed a woman named...named... His brow furrowed. What was her name? He couldn't remember, but thought he recalled she'd supported Galen for centuries. Even helped him commit the most heinous of his deeds.
The woman...whatever her name was...had willingly accepted Distrust-paranoia-something Baden could not understand.
William sighed. "Unfortunately, you're in worse shape than I imagined. Fine, fine. I'll help you." He drew back his fist and punched Baden in the nose. "I know. I'm a giver. You're welcome."
He experienced a sharp blast of pain as cartilage snapped out of place. Though he didn't bleed, his body nothing but a husk for his spirit, the taste of old pennies coated his tongue. Delicious...practically dessert. And yet, the beast raged.
"You want a little more?" William asked, rolling up his shirtsleeves.
Thinks to hit me again? The Get Out of Torture Free card burned to ash.
The beast utterly...exploded. Muscles pumping full of adrenaline and bones filling with molten lava, Baden's body doubled in size. At one time, his hair would have caught fire, too. Without Distrust, the only flames present were those raging inside his veins.
Kill!
With a roar, Baden swung at William. Contact! But one punch wasn't enough. His fist a jackhammer, he punched, punched, punched. Brutal, unrelenting. The guy took the blows like a champ, miraculously remaining on his feet.
I like this man...kind of. Hurting him hurts me.
Finally. Rational thought. Baden dropped his arm to his side and gripped his camo pants. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he rasped.
"Why?" William smiled, his teeth smeared with crimson. "Did you soil your panties while you were giving me those love taps?"
Humor. He wasn't in the mood. "Leave. Before it's too late."
Already the beast pawed at his gray matter, hungry for round two.
"Don't be silly." William waved a dismissive hand through the air. "Hit me again, only this time, try to do some real damage."
The warrior didn't understand...couldn't understand...not yet.
"What are you waiting for?" William jabbed a finger in his shoulder. "Hit. Me."
The beast snarled, and Baden...
Baden exploded into motion a second time, punching, punching. William made no effort to block or dodge the barrage of blows.
"Fight back!" Baden shouted.
"Well...since you suggested it." William threw a punch of his own, a crack so powerful Baden reeled backward.
He came to a stop only when he slammed into the dresser. Junk one of the female residents had placed there to "add a touch of pretty" rattled. Several items toppled to the floor and shattered. William stalked forward and, without a pause in his step, bent down to swipe up a book. With another bloodstained smile, he struck, pummeling Baden's throat into his spine. As Baden hunched over with the force of momentum, the warrior slammed the book into his side once, twice, and it felt as if he was taking a cement block to his kidney.
Opponent...stronger than expected...threat! He cannot be allowed to live.
Before William could deliver another blow, Baden jerked up his knee, sending the book flying across the room. He nailed William in the jaw with a hard punch. As the warrior stumbled to the side, Baden kicked him in the center of his chest, sending him soaring backward.
Baden stomped over without pause...and took a vase to the side of the head. Shards of glass rained as different voices penetrated his awareness.
"Is that Baden? Duuude! That can't be Baden. He's twice his usual size!"
"He's going to make a retainer out of Willy's teeth!"
"I call dibs! If my man ever kicks the bucket, I get to hook up with Baden first!"
In the back of his mind, he knew his friends and their mates had heard the commotion and come running, intending to break up the fight-a mistake...kill...will kill them, too...they're too strong, too much of a risk.
The beast had no friends, only enemies.
The group is dangerous to the rest of the world, but not to me, he told the beast. Never to me. These people would die for me.
Die...yes, they must die...
William kicked the door closed, blocking the others from Baden's view. "You focus on me, Red. Understood? I'm the biggest threat, so take your arthritis medication and hit me."
Yes. Biggest threat. Hit. Rage gave him added strength as he threw another punch. William blocked, but wasn't quick enough to dodge the next one. The fight propelled them around the room, as if they were dancing. A brutal, violent dance.
Pick up a piece of glass. Cut through the warrior's ribs.
The perfect end. But as Baden swooped down, William flashed behind him-moving from one location to another with only a thought-and kicked the glass from his hand. With a curse, Baden spun. William threw another punch, but Baden captured his hand in a vise-grip and dropped to the floor, taking his opponent with him.
As they fell, Baden swung up his legs and locked them around William's neck, bringing Willy with him while applying enough pressure to choke. Upon impact, Baden rolled, forcing the warrior's entire body to swing over his head. When William hit the floor face-first, Baden drew himself up, straddling the guy's back.
He landed only one punch to William's skull before the warrior flashed again. The next blow-too late to halt-cracked a wood panel on the floor. His knuckles shattered like the vase, pain vibrating up his arm, pooling in his shoulder.
William laughed with delight and, miracle of miracles, the beast quieted, as if finally spent.
"There." The warrior ruffled Baden's hair like an older brother with a tagalong he couldn't shake. "Feeling better now?"
He performed a rage-check, just to be sure, and nodded. "Much, actually." Even his throat had healed.
"Good. Now we can have a conversation without you eyeing my trachea as if it's a gummy worm."
"Conversation can wait." He stood, grimacing as he noted the condition of his room. Holes in the wall, broken glass on the floor. Furniture overturned and missing legs. "I've got some cleaning to do."
"So...you're not curious about the serpentine wreaths? Their side effects..."
The wreaths. He loved the wreaths. He hated the wreaths. They were a gift from Hades, ancient and mystical, and they were responsible for Baden's tangible form.
Hades and Keeley, now the wife of one of Baden's friends, had come to him in what he'd thought was a dream. Through some kind of mystical power, they'd switched the bands Lucifer-his jailer at the time-had forced on him and replaced them with bands that belonged to Hades.
As long as you wear my wreaths, Hades had said, you will be seen...touched.
The friendly gesture of an ally he supported in the war of the underworlds? He'd thought so in the beginning. Now he wondered... The trick of an underhanded foe?
The day after Baden had donned the gift, William had looked at him with pity and said, "Just ask Pet Sematary. Sometimes dead is better."
William wasn't wrong.
By that point, Baden had already begun to change. Not physically-maybe physically-but definitely mentally. Once even-tempered, he struggled for control. He despised anyone who might be stronger than him. As proved. Memories plagued him, but they weren't his own. They couldn't be. He'd never been a child, had been created fully formed, an immortal soldier tasked with protecting Zeus, and yet he clearly remembered being five years old, running through an ambrosia field set aflame, thick smoke billowing as he was captured by a pack of wild dogs.
Those dogs had dragged him, kicking and screaming, into a cold, dank dungeon, where he'd stayed for centuries, alone and starving, deprived of every creature comfort.
The wreaths weren't just an object, he'd realized, but a being. Not a demon, but worse. A being who'd once lived; an immortal who wanted to continue living through Baden. A monster who always teetered on the edge of rage, violence and distrust.
The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Baden.
"Yesterday," he said, "you told me you knew nothing about the wreaths."
William hiked his shoulders in a shrug. "That was yesterday."
"And now you know...what, exactly?"
"Only everything."
He waited for the warrior to say more. "Do you want another beating? Tell me!"
"Beating is too strong a word for what just transpired. I'd go with massage." William buffed his nails. "Just so you know, the wreaths' side effects are numerous and horrifying."
"I figured the horrifying part out on my own, thanks." Removing the wreaths wasn't an option. He'd tried, and he'd failed. To succeed, he would have to hack off his arms with, say, a meat cleaver.
Before his death, his arms would have grown back. Now? He wasn't sure and wasn't willing to experiment to find out. His hands were his first line of defense.
"What else?" he asked.
"Well, if you want to keep your new temper tantrums at bay but don't want to give out any more massages, you'll need sex and a lot of it."