How strange.
"Think of me like a governor or a wrangler. It's my job to make sure that the inmates here obey the laws, especially when they go out on parole."
"What laws?"
He smiled evilly and ignored Fang's question entirely. "You've surprised me, wolf, and not many people do that . . . at least not in a good way."
"How do you mean?"
Thorn clapped him on the back. One second they were in the cave and in the next inside a grand obsidian hall. Light glowed from iridescent sconces that were shaped into the twisted faces of gargoyles and skeletal hands. The ceiling arched up a good thirty feet with buttresses that had been carved into the shape of human spines. Opulent, huge, and creepy as hell, it was cold and completely uninviting.
The only thing even remotely appealing here was the giant hearth where a massive fire blazed. A hearth that was flanked on each side by the winged skeletons of two Reapers. Both of which still had a dagger wedged in their rib cages.
Fang grimaced at the sight, wondering if they were real or nothing more than morbid decoration.
Or maybe both. . . .
"What is this place?"
Thorn whipped his cloak off with a flourish. The black armor gleamed in the low light that highlighted the deadly spikes on it. "Stygian Hall. Stupid name, I know, but to my credit, I didn't come up with it. I'm merely the current fool watching over it." A goblet of wine appeared in his hand. He held it out to Fang.
Fang declined to take it.
Thorn laughed evilly. "Afraid I've poisoned or drugged it? Trust me, wolf. I don't need a liquid to do either. If I wanted you dead, I'd be feasting on your meat right now." He took a deep swig of the wine.
Fang was losing patience with all the cryptic bullshit. He'd never had patience for such. "Look, I'm not really chatty and your dramatics are boring the crap out of me. Who are you and why am I here?"
Thorn tossed the cup into the hearth, causing the flames to explode. As those flames curled toward him, his clothes changed from armor into a modern beige suit with a light blue shirt. Instead of an ancient warrior, he looked like a billionaire CEO. Except for his left hand, which was still covered with the metallic claws that had been part of his armor.
"I'm the leader of an elite group of warriors known as Hellchasers."
Fang arched a brow at the name. "Hellchasers?"
Thorn inclined his head. "When demons violate the laws that govern them or decide to skip out on their parole, we're the ones who deal with them."
"Deal with them how?"
Thorn spread his hand and an image flashed up on the dark wall to Fang's left. Misery and her crew were being hauled back into their realm in chains. Bloody and bruised, they looked like someone had used their bodies as a target practice. It was obvious the two men bringing them back had been anything but gentle. "In short, we're bounty hunters without a bounty."
"Then why do it?"
Thorn clenched his fist closed and the image faded. "Mostly for shits and giggles. But if we didn't do it, the demons would overrun the human realm and it would quickly look like this one."
"Scary thought."
Thorn inclined his head. "Luckily, we think so too, which is why we do what we do."
"So how do I play into this?"
Thorn approached him slowly as he raked a speculative glance over his body as if judging every molecule of his being, inside and out. "You've got certain talents that appeal to me. A wolf who's survived with demons on his own and without his powers . . . impressive."
That did nothing except ignite Fang's anger. "Yeah, and why didn't you step in before now?"
"Because I thought you belonged here. That you'd been consigned to this realm for past deeds. It wasn't until you started to offer your soul up to protect Aimee that I realized you're here by mistake."
"You're not very intuitive, are you?"
Instead of being pissed, Thorn took the insult in stride. "Let's just say I seldom see the good in others. It's such a rare commodity in the world that I don't even bother to look for it." Thorn spread his arm out and a banquet of food appeared on the table. "You must be hungry."