All four of them had been beheaded in their natural life, and all four of their spirits had left their mutilated bodies and floated here, unable to stop the journey—now, unable to leave...whatever this was.

“Why do you torture yourself this way?”

The soft, sweet voice came from behind him. The cadence was a deception. One he knew well. He turned and watched as Pandora stepped through the fog. She was six feet of bad attitude with a shoulder-length crop of hair so black it gleamed blue. Her features were sharp yet pretty, the rest of her almost as muscled as him. Altogether she was a nice package—if you liked your women with hearts of ice.

He preferred a little heat in his bed, thanks.

Since moment one of his arrival, they’d been at war, striking at each other in every way imaginable. But the moment Cronus and Rhea had arrived, they’d united, striking at the royals.

“Torin is with the Red Queen,” he said. “And she has—”

“What! The Red Queen? Let me see.” Pandora moved to the section of fog displaying Torin’s interactions with the legendary female whose immense power had somehow created the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle, whose temper had ushered in the Ice Age. A woman who had set up a network of spies throughout almost every realm in existence, inside every royal house, within every race of immortals and humans alike. There was very little she didn’t know.

Very little she couldn’t do.

If two clans were fighting and she picked a side, the opposers immediately raised the white flag of surrender.

For a dead man like Baden, she was a pot of gold.

She and Torin were in the Realm of Wailing Tears where they were playing Dr. Ken and Homicidal Maniac Barbie. Baden had never seen Torin so determined to heal anyone.

Trying to get laid despite the consequences?

Can’t blame him. Though, if Baden had his pick of beauties, he’d go with someone a little less...murderous. He’d been stuck with a dark-haired viper for thousands of years. “Sweet” would be a nice change.

Anyway. Baden knew how badly Torin wanted to retrieve Cameo and Viola and return to his friends.

“Do you think the Red Queen can save us?” Pandora asked, all but rubbing her hands together.

“If she survives the disease...and if Torin learns the magnitude of her particular skill set... Yes. He will ensure she launches a successful search and rescue.”

First and foremost, Keeley would be able to procure a pair of serpentine wreaths from Hades, who had wheeled, dealed and killed to acquire every set ever forged. The mystical relics could be worn by humans or immortals and would make every spirit tangible to them. But more important, the relics could be worn by a spirit like Baden, making him tangible to everyone and everything.

I can reclaim everything I’ve lost.

“But, Pandy,” he added with a smile. “We both know she’ll come for me and me alone. You’ll be left behind—unless I decide to take you with me. Think about that the next time you want to strike at me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

I HAVE ANOTHER choice to make, don’t I?

For three days Torin had taken better care of Keeley than her neglectful parents, sadistic husband and deceitful lover ever had. Combined! He’d catered to her every need, provided her with food and water, protected her from scavenging animals, and cleaned her brow when perspiration dared bead atop it. He’d even carved an entire zoo of miniature animals out of planks of wood, each a treasure trove of exquisite detail.

He’d thrust the pieces at her with a grumbled “Here,” as if he was unsure how she would receive the gifts.

Mine! I’ll never share!

Now she owed him death and she owed him life. And she had no idea what to do about it.

Had he taken such great care with Mari, too?

Keeley remembered the way he’d cried, “Don’t die. Don’t you dare die.” And, “Come on, Mari. Stay with me.”

He had taken care of Mari, she realized. In her grief she had completely overlooked his pain.

Back in prison he must have removed his heart as a means of survival because it was broken and he was no longer able to deal.

Stomach cramp.

Again, she heard Mari’s counsel in her mind. Forgive him. Clear his ledger. It’s the right thing to do.

She tried to think up a protest, but her worldview was too busy shifting. Torin had made a mistake. One he regretted. He was hurting—would probably hurt for the rest of his life. She didn’t need to do anything more, did she?

“Torin,” she said.

He was busy preparing her next meal, his back to her. His shoulders expanded, as if the muscles had just knotted with tension. “Yes, Keys?”

“Am I completely out of the danger zone?” Never having experienced so much as a case of the sniffles, she’d been ill prepared for round one with Torin’s demon. The sensation of ingesting acid repeatedly? Check. The feeling of being burned alive? Check. The surety that every bone in her body had been broken and the cracks had leaked ice...more fire...ice again? Check, check, and mate.

But at least I’m alive.

Were all sicknesses so vile?

“You might wish otherwise,” he said. “You’re a carrier, but yes. You’ll survive.”

“Good.” Was it, though? Being a carrier meant she could now make people sick.

She would have to abandon her secret desires and greatest dreams: conquering a small kingdom of immortals, ruling as their benevolent queen and then marrying a nice man who would never prick her temper, finally creating a family of her own.