to use against Hades and give himself an edge in the war.
Baden would catch it and escort it to the underworld along with the head. Because, as much as he disliked Hades, he wouldn’t allow evil to roam free on the earth. Not if he could stop it. He would also do anything, even remain a slave, to prevent Lucifer from ruling supreme over any more territory.
“Consider it done. A point earned.” He pictured his target... flashed to a small log cabin. Despite the light cast by multiple kerosene lamps, doom-and-gloom tainted the air—or maybe the blame was the scent of rot.
Baden strode into the kitchen...found a dead body strapped to a long wooden table, the chest cavity opened, and several organs removed.
His target perched at the end of the table, eating what looked to be a liver. Nice. He was talking to the corpse.
“—was nekkid as a jaybird. I almost spit my soda—” He noticed Baden and grabbed the rifle propped against his chair. “You stay right thar, now, you heer.”
Baden flashed to his side, grabbed the gun and slammed the handle into his temple, then his yellowed teeth. Jab, jab. Impact sent him tumbling to the floor, but he wasn’t out for the count. He crab-walked backward, blood trickling down his face, catching in his dirty beard.
“Don’t be hurtin’ me. Please.” He tried to stealthily reach inside his boot, where a dagger hilt peeked out.
Thinks to stab me?
Baden flashed over and stomped on his hand, breaking the bones.
As a scream of agony cut through the air, Destruction laughed with delight—so did Baden. Then the man pissed himself, and one of the beast’s memories knocked on the door of Baden’s mind.
He fought to remain in the present...but he...he...the cabin was replaced by a cell. No longer a child but finally a man, he stalked to the first person he’d seen in centuries. The lord of the castle. The one who’d paid his mother a few measly coins for the privilege of “taming” him. The one who’d ordered his imprisonment when he’d resisted the taming.
The lord was draped in expensive velvets, with different medals pinned to his shoulders and chest. How many battles had he won? Countless. And yet, he urinated as the distance between them vanished, knew his time had come—
In the present, Baden’s feet were knocked out from under him. He blinked and shook his head, breaking the tight grip of the past. His target stabbed him in the chest and raced toward the front door.
Baden grabbed his ankle, tripping him. His jaw shattered, blood and what remained of his teeth spewing over the wood panels.
Smiling, Baden removed the dagger and stood. The man stayed down.
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