it was owned by three Sent Ones. Merciless winged warriors who might have insight about the wreaths. Two birds, one wild stone. The warriors were currently—always—at war with Lucifer and his minions, and they’d made it their business to know the happenings in the underworld.
Baden swiped two shots of ambrosia-laced whiskey from a tray as a waiter passed him. He downed both, the taste and scent harkening back to the chase through the blazing field, but the warmth soothed him anyway.
“Hey,” the waiter said. “Those are for—”
One look at Baden, and he zipped his lips, gratefully accepting the empty glasses.
Just before Baden crossed the VIP threshold, a giant of a man stepped in his path. Bulging muscles, with the mane of a lion and the flexible jaw of a bear. He was a Berserker, no question.
Baden decided to give a polite request a shot. “I’m here to speak with the Sent Ones.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I’m willing to overlook the lack and see them anyway.”
The Berserker crossed massive arms over a massive chest. “They’re busy, and they’re not to be disturbed.”
Deny us? We’ll teach him the error of his ways.
We’re an us now? Still on edge, Baden found himself consenting. Just this once.
Destruction laughed with glee as he poured dark strength straight into Baden’s veins.
Like Kaia, the Berserker moved into an offensive stance, preparing to strike. Baden beat him to it, slamming a fist into the center of his chest, only corralling his strength at the last second when Katarina’s voice drifted through his mind.
Anything you want.
The guy flew backward, smashed into the back wall and slid to his ass. He remained conscious, though the center of his torso was now sunken in, as if Baden had punched through skin, muscle and bone. Maybe he had. Black mist swirled over his palms before thinning and dispersing. A sight he’d encountered before. With Hades.
Baden wasn’t sure what to think. At least the Berserker would heal.
Everyone in the VIP lounge stilled and quieted. Several women stared at him with sudden interest, while most of the men gaped at him with fear. They sensed a predator far more dangerous than themselves. Berserkers were usually at the top of the food chain and Baden had just taken one down with a single blow.
Destruction hungered for more.
Baden breathed in and out with purpose, determined to resist temptation.
In the far corner, two males stood. The Sent Ones. Large white and gold wings arced over their shoulders.
Though Baden had never met the pair, he knew of them. Everyone did. The one with the white hair, scarred white skin and red eyes was Xerxes. The one with the dark hair, bronzed skin and rainbow-colored eyes was Bjorn.
“You harmed our man,” Xerxes told him, cracking his knuckles. “Today you die.”
“I meant him no harm.” Baden squared his shoulders and braced for impact. “I’m here for answers.”
Behind the pair, the Berserker jumped to his feet, roaring as he healed. He sprouted five...eight more inches, grisly claws springing from the tips of his fingers.
Baden frowned, his mind suddenly buzzing with another of Destruction’s memories. When he’d fought the guards at the prison, their bodies had piled up around him. He’d expanded, growing bigger than ever, his nails lengthening and sharpening into claws for the first time. Claws just...like...that.
The beast was part Berserker?
Gasps drew Baden to the present. The ends of his fingers felt as if they had been lit on fire. He looked down to see his nails had lengthened and sharpened into claws—like meeting the call of like? He was now part Berserker?
As he shook his hands, shocked by the transformation, the claws retracted.
Bjorn held out his arm, stopping both Xerxes and the Berserker in an instant. Without glancing away from Baden, he said, “Calm yourself, Colin, or I’ll do it for you.”
The warning worked, the Berserker remaining in place.
“Look at the warrior’s arms,” Bjorn said to Xerxes. “He’s wearing serpentine wreaths.”
Baden glanced at his biceps, where his shirtsleeves had caught on the metal. “They’re part of the reason I wish to speak with you.”
Xerxes hesitated only a moment before waving him forward. Bjorn signaled his private bartender.
Baden strode to the shadowed corner illuminated by candlelight. Two scantily clad women lounged on a couch and one on a recliner, each twittering excitedly when he came into view.
“It’s Jamie freaking Fraser!”
“I know. Okay, okay, you talked me into it. I’ll have your Scottish babies.”
“Take off your shirt. Or would you prefer I rip it off you?”