Chapter 1

 

“What are you muttering about over here?” Behind him, a pale figure in endless black leather, Gideon shoved his way forward. His gray eyes cut over the faces rushing past them in a clean sweep. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the other was tucked casually in the pocket of his coat where Magnus knew he kept his angelic blade. “How much further?”

It was odd seeing his brother’s face void of its usual smirk. Although, lately, it was more unusual to see him with it. He had changed and Magnus was still debating if he preferred this side of the man he had once shared a womb with.

“Another bend.”

Another bend and they would leave the sanctuary of humanity for the gritty underbelly of hell, or as close to what hell ought to be. Magnus had never been, but he doubted he would fear it. He had seen things, done things that most would lose their minds over. He would do them again, because he never questioned his sanity. He’d never had any to begin with. In his world, he was an animal first, a warrior second, and a heartless bastard third. It was what had kept him alive. It was what would keep them alive now.

Gnashing fangs glinted in the flickering lights piercing through quarter-sized holes drilled into miles of concrete. All around them, claws clicked, wings rustled, and the overpowering stench of roasted, human flesh impregnated the air. It was as close to heaven as a man like him would ever get.

This was his paradise.

His world.

The market was where he belonged.

Down spiraled the path, cutting lower into the ground in a steamy, humid confinement that threatened to suffocate those unprepared. He would never have brought Gideon if the other man hadn’t been so adamant. His family didn’t belong there. But Magnus understood what drove his brother.

It had been six months since his niece or nephew had been torn from his sister-in-law’s belly and stolen. The child still lived. That much was all they were certain of, and Magnus was prepared to tear the entire underground to pieces to find it.

“Magnus!”

The fearful hisses reverberated through the tunnels, winding its way deep into the darkness. The salty tang of terror caressed his skin like a lover’s coaxing hands. He felt it settle in his chest and swell. But his strides remained even and confident. His hands remained unfurled at his sides and he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead and narrowed. There would be no mistake that he was not a hunter to be trifled with.

At the mouth of the entrance, Magnus paused. He turned to the man behind him.

“Are you sure about this?”

He knew the answer even before Gideon’s eyes darkened and his face tightened in a temper that was becoming more and more prominent with each passing day.

“You’re wasting time,” was all the answer he got.

Saying nothing, Magnus pivoted on the rubber heel of his boots and plunged through.

Aged walls slickened with slime and mold dissolved into crumbling red dirt. The cobblestone path that had led them to the opening slanted and abruptly broke off to ashes. It rose into the thick air with every stomp of their feet and burned into the leather of their boots. They were hot, the way the ashes at the bottom of a hearth were after the fire had been let out. But they kept walking.

Like the dance of a spider weaving her silk web, tunnels shattered in all directions; the many heads of a hydra. Each one led to an even greater evil. He’d spent the better part of eight centuries discovering each one until they had all become a second home to him.

“Mommy, Casters!” A youngling jabbed a razor-sharp talon in their direction. His slitted pupils shimmered almost feline-like from the shadows.

The mother grabbed him and forcibly marched him in the opposite direction.

Magnus didn’t harm children. His mother would skin him alive if he so much as thought it. But it was better they feared him as well, because even the children there would eventually grow to become the monsters he would one day hunt. It was best they learned early on not to piss him off.

A hollow shriek rolled over jagged stone. It was unclear which direction it had come from, but it grated over his nerves. The sound wasn’t human, thus not his problem, yet it didn’t stop him from wanting to find the tortured creature and put it out of its misery.

The incline stopped at a narrow corridor painted in thick, black shadows. The air swirled like hot breath. It washed over his face, over his body, plastering his clothes to his skin. The uncomfortable sensation always made him want to strip naked. Instead, he rolled his shoulders to shake loose the sticky collar of his leather coat off the back of his sweaty neck and kept walking.

Durante Degli Alighieri wrote that hell was nine circles of suffering on earth, each one more gruesome than the last. While he spoke of sin and rejecting it, he had been remarkably close, or as close as any human had ever gotten.

The market wasn’t hell, although it was probably where the idea had come from. It was the Walmart for demons. Anything that could be bought or sold could be found within the catacomb. Most of it was probably illegal, like the buying and selling of humans, their flesh, organs and whatever else. But news of his and Gideon’s presence would have spurred most of those vendors to close until the coast was clear. As it were, they passed a wooden wheel decorated by the decayed corpse of a woman. Parts of her were missing and she’d been torn open. Her organs sat in a neat display across the table. Magnus heard Gideon falter, but then he continued following him without comment.

It wasn’t illegal for demons to eat and harvest the dead remains of humans. It was the live ones they were forbidden to touch. Although, Magnus was sure there was more than one live human somewhere in the bowels of that place.

At another table, skinned animals were pegged to the walls. Their insides were placed in jars and trays. Further along, balls of hair, toenail clippings, and bottles of yellow colored liquid he suspected was urine lined a series of rickety crates.

Magnus paid no table more than a flick of attention in passing. Not because his stomach couldn’t take it, but because he didn’t have the time.

The chamber they needed to be in before three was still several layers below ground and the demon they needed to talk to would leave promptly at three. They barely had fifteen minutes.

He quickened his pace.

The thing that irked him the most wasn’t that they were going deeper into the place that turned most men mad, but the fact that Gideon was with him. His brother did not belong at the market. He did not need that stain on his soul. Magnus was half certain he was as foul and heartless as he was because of his many ventures into the tunnels. The place had a way of stripping at everything that made a person. The longer they were there, the less human they became, and his brother was a good man. He was kind and filled with too much love. Even with such a short time there, Magnus knew Gideon would leave with only half of himself.

“You should have stayed home,” he muttered.

“My baby could be here somewhere,” Gideon shot back. “I’m not leaving until we find her.”

Magnus stopped and turned to him. “That wasn’t our agreement,” he hissed. “You will leave when I tell you. That was our deal. If you won’t abide by that, then I will take you back.”

Gideon’s gray eyes seemed to glow an almost eerie white in the unnatural dimness. “Then I will stay without you.”

Magnus stiffened. His hands wedged into tight fists at his sides and he stared at his brother.

“Then I will bring Valkyrie.”

That was all the threat the blond needed to hear. He might have been a warrior and several sizes bigger and taller than his mate, but Valkyrie Maxwell was a force to be reckoned with. She had been a Harvester before she’d been banished. There was very little that woman wouldn’t do to get her way.

Gideon bared his teeth. “Fucker.”

Matter settled, Magnus turned on his heels and continued onward. They had already wasted a minute arguing, a minute that could mean everything.

Eight chambers down, Magnus almost felt Gideon slow, as he knew the other caster would. Eight was a uniquely horrific level consisting of human body suits. Some were draped over mannequins like dresses. Others were peeled open and pinned behind glass like butterflies, or a coat just waiting to be shrugged into. Demons weren’t allowed to wander the human world without permission. When they were, this was where they got their disguises from.

But it was level thirteen that Magnus knew his brother would take less consideration over. It was the heart of the market. The place most flocked to with relish. Because of that, it smelled beyond imagination and the sight was deep from the very bowels of horror.

Jagged walls of stone domed over a writhing pit of demons. They rippled beneath the pool of shadows cast by the dim flicks of light from the torches mounted throughout. Shrieks and howls rang in a cacophony of delight. All faces were turned to the platform built high at the very end of the room, enclosed by high, thick curtains as red and filthy as the stains forever infused into the wood. The hole in the ceiling cast a spotlight. It glinted off the chains and spikes.

But it was the regal demon standing before the crowd that had everyone’s attention. It was the polished white of his eyes and translucent hue of his pale skin. His cleanly shaven scalp gleamed in the light. He wore leather pants and leather bands around each forearm, and nothing else. His long feet and lean chest were bare and flawless. He had the build of a malnourished child, but he stood tall and regal. He stood watching the crowd, a king before his loyal subjects.

Magnus had never made direct contact with Belthon, but his name was legendary. His cruelty was infamous. He was without mercy, thriving solely on the agony of his victims. It was Magnus’s wish to one day end him, but so long as no rules were broken, Belthon was free to do his business of selling other demons. The underworld had no laws about demon trafficking and honestly, Magnus didn’t give a shit. He would die happy if the whole lot of them just killed one another off and saved him the trouble.

Foul and evil, he loathed every last one of them, from the very old to the very young. Vile and repugnant, were the monsters.

“This way,” he mumbled, not caring if he was heard or not.

He pushed his way through the masses, knowing it was quicker to go through rather than around. Demons snarled as they were shouldered, but immediately shrank back when they saw who it was.

Magnus didn’t even need to draw out his blade to demand attention. He managed it with just a look. Nevertheless, he kept his grip firm around his blade. It only took one idiot to think themselves brave and Magnus wasn’t a fool.

On stage, the first demon was hauled forward. Magnus didn’t bother glancing up, not even as the creatures around him began hissing, drowning out the rattle of chains. Somewhere above all that, Belthon’s voice rose in a fluid rush of persuasion. It rippled across the crowd, drawing them in and coaxing them to bid and bid high. The demon, whoever it was, had the group in an uproar. No longer did any of them care when Magnus and Gideon shoved their way through. Their focus was fixed on whichever creature was being auctioned.

They made it to the stage without incident and ducked beneath the heavy beams. The Tian demon guarding the stairway glanced over at them, but since they weren’t trying to get on stage, he left them alone.

On the other side, behind the red curtains, the area was a madhouse of activity. Demons flocked in all directions, shouting orders and preparing for their time on stage. Creatures of all shapes and sizes were crammed into steel cages along the back wall. Some were covered in fabric, but he could hear breathing from the other side as they passed.

A she-demon with a clipboard hurried towards them. Her big, yellow eye found Magnus and narrowed.

“You’re late!” she snipped. “Damier isn’t a tolerant—”

“Where is he?” Magnus cut her off.

Dru sniffed. Her single eyebrow furrowed with impatience, but she lifted her pointy chin and motioned them to follow.

“He’s getting ready to leave,” she rattled on as they shouldered their way past the bustle crowding the tight confines of the corridor. “Evenings are our busiest time since most demons sleep during the day. Damier doesn’t have time to simply wait for a—”

“He will wait if he knows what’s good for him,” Magnus bit out.

Dru huffed, but said nothing.

The grand doors at the very end of the tunnel opened to a lavish sitting area draped in beautiful afghan carpets and yards of colorful silk. Thin coils of smoke rose into the air from the sticks of incense, drenching the place in the stench of sandalwood and patchouli. Both gave Magnus a headache before he even made it to the center of the room and the grand throne erected from dark, mahogany.

Damier was an upper level demon that specialized in roadside slaughtering. Back in the olden days when humans would do trade via horse and cart, Damier was the one who would kill them on the side of the road and devour their flesh. Since then, he’d expanded his franchise to selling his own kind.

But Magnus knew what he really wanted, what his price really was and he’d paid it without a shred of hesitation. His family would be horrified if they ever found out, but there was nothing Magnus wouldn’t do for his family, even betray his oath to the angels and break the first law.

“Magnus!” Damier rose in a flurry of magnificent blue robes. His lean frame moved with inhuman grace around the tables heaped with fresh fruits and steaming slabs of meat. Magnus tried not to wonder what sort of meat as he focused on the demon approaching them. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up.” Eyes the dominating blue of cornflowers moved from Magnus and rested on Gideon. “This must be your brother.”

“You said you had information about my baby,” Gideon cut in. “Where is she?”

If Damier was taken aback, he never showed it. His delicate features never wavered in its brilliant smile.

“Of course.” He motioned for them to follow with a long, slender hand. The firelight caught the multitude of gems crowning each finger and glinted. “I have done exactly as you requested, Magnus. I kept my ear very low to the ground for even a sliver of news and I think I might have something.”

He returned to his throne and made a graceful descent upon the velvet cushion. His robes bellowed out around him, disturbing the small mound of rags on the floor next to the seat. Magnus had pegged it as dirty laundry, until it moved. Metal chains jingled as it was drawn taut, exposing bony arms and legs. It took him a moment to realize it was a boy, a filthy, rancid creature that scuttled around the side of the seat to join the other one hidden behind it. The heavy iron necklace around his throat tugged when he’d gone too far and he dropped back down onto his side.

Magnus couldn’t tell what kind of creatures they were. It was impossible to even guess with the amount of filth covering them, but Damier was speaking and Magnus returned his attention to what was more important than the demon’s most recent choice in pets.

“There was a demoness in here a few days back, pretty little thing, but blonde. Definitely not my type. I prefer brunettes. I find they taste—”

“Damier!”

Damier put his hand up at Magnus’s growl. “Right. Forgive me. This blonde came to inquire the transport of a baby.”

Gideon and Magnus exchanged glances.

“An unborn baby,” Damier stressed slowly, putting emphasis on unborn. “She said the child needed safe passage to Azania.”

Next to Magnus, Gideon had gone rigid and pale. He lunged forward before Magnus could stop him and grabbed Damier’s collar.

“Where is she? The baby, what did you do—?”

Damier broke the hold. Fabric tore, but Gideon released him. He was breathing hard. His eyes were wild. Magnus moved to take his brother’s arm and hold him back, but he kept his attention on the demon.

“Where is the child now?”

Damier smoothed down his robes. He tisked at the hole Gideon had made, but he looked up.

“This was my favorite!”

“The baby!” Gideon snarled. “What did you do with her?”

Damier huffed. “Not quite so fast, Caster.” Gone was the placid expression, replaced by the cold, calculating glint of a blood thirsty monster. “There is something I require first.”

Gideon tensed. “What?”

Damier grinned, revealing the jagged points of his teeth. “I am a businessman and I have something you want. Surely that means something to you.”

Magnus tightened his hold on Gideon. “You have already been paid.”

Long, spidery fingers steepled beneath a sharp chin. “I was paid to get information. I was not paid to give it.”

“You son of a—”

Magnus squeezed Gideon’s arm, silencing him. “What do you want, Damier?”

Damier paused, not out of hesitation or uncertainty. No. Magnus knew it was out of the sheer joy of watching Gideon suffer. Their building anxiety was food for the bastard. He knew he had them exactly where he wanted them and that pissed Magnus off enough to slit the fucker’s throat.

“I have a shipment ready to be brought to me and I need a small crew of trustworthy men to see to its safe delivery.”

Magnus frowned. “What is it?”

One slender hand waved dismissively. “That is not your concern. Bring me my cargo and I will personally hand you the child you seek.”

Gideon pulled free of Magnus’s grip. “How do we know you’re not lying?”

Damier splayed his palms. “You don’t, but what choice do you have?”

“Wrong.” The light sparked down the gleaming length of Magnus’s blade as it whipped out of his pocket and leveled at the demon’s throat. “I have the pleasure of slicing you open and stringing you up with your own entrails.”

Damier never so much as batted an eye. “Do so and you will never see hide nor hair of that child again. That is a promise.”

War raged between their clashing gazes, vicious and seemingly endless. It sparked as sharp and deadly as the blade still inches from the tip of Damier’s Adam’s apple.

It was Gideon who broke it.

“We’ll do it, but I want your word that when we bring you the cargo, you will have my daughter and you will give her to me. Not just information or an idea of her location. I want her.”

Blue eyes swept past Magnus and focused on the blond. “You have my word.”

Gideon shook his head. “That’s not good enough. I want you to swear it on your blood.”

A muscle tightened in the demon’s jaw. Anger blazed in his eyes. For the first time since their arrival, his hesitation was purely out of uncertainty.

But he nodded. “Fine.”

He produced one outstretched palm to Gideon, who immediately freed his blade. Magnus lowered his and took a step back as his brother tore a gash in the demon’s pale skin. The blood that welled was as black as a desert night. It pooled in his cupped hand. He snapped the fingers on the other hand and Dru appeared with her clipboard.

“I, Damier, high demon of accords, swear upon my blood to bring the Maxwell child to its rightful family upon the safe delivery of my cargo.”

Dru dipped a feathered quill into the puddle of blood and quickly scribbled each word onto paper. It looked no different from black ink.

The contract was shown to Gideon. Then to Magnus. When both nodded, Damier took the quill and fluidly signed the bottom.

“Where is the cargo?” Magnus asked once Gideon had tucked the paper into the inside pocket of his coat.

Face set in frothing fury, Damier clenched his wounded fist and glowered at him. “Not so fast. It’s your turn.” He snapped his fingers and Dru poised quill to page again. “I want your assurance that you will in fact bring me my shipment.”

Magnus bristled. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Damier shrugged. “Call it precaution.”

Gideon’s shoulders rolled as though jerking off the tension. “Fine.”

Magnus stopped him before Gideon could cut his own palm. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Gideon frowned. “Why?”

“Because I’ll be the one going.”

“What?” Gideon blurted a second time. He grabbed Magnus’s arm and dragged him away from Damier and his throne. His voice lowered, but not by much. “You’re not going alone!”

“You need to stay and make sure he keeps his word,” Magnus said firmly. “If something happens to me, one of us needs to know where to go.”

He knew he had the other man when Gideon pressed his lips together and averted his gaze.

Magnus settled a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I will not fail you,” he promised.

Gideon began to nod when a thought occurred to him.

“What did you mean you already paid him?”

Magnus met his brother’s gaze unflinching. “Don’t worry about it.”

Realization widened Gideon’s eyes and washed what was left of his coloring. “Did you…?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Gideon’s horror only seemed to build with Magnus’s unwillingness to draw his brother into his dark deeds. “What did you do, Magnus?”

“What I had to.”

“We are forbidden to harm humans!” Gideon hissed. “And you just offered him—”

“I would offer him every human on the face of the earth if it means getting that kid back,” Magnus cut in. “I would skin and cook them myself if that is what it takes.”

“If the angels ever find out…”

“I don’t give a shit.” He peered intensely into his brother’s eyes. “We’re too close to back down now. If this is your baby, we’ll have her back before the end of the week.”

He could see the anger washing out of the other man’s face, saw the flicker of hope and uncertainty before he turned his head to peer over at Damier.

“This has to be it,” he murmured. “This has to be my kid. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s not.” Gray eyes fixed on Magnus, bright with emotion. “I can’t go home with nothing, Magnus. It kills me a little more every time I see the hope die in Kyrie’s eyes.”

“Then let me do this.”

Sucking in a breath, Gideon nodded. “Okay.”

“What have we decided?” Damier asked when they returned to the throne.

Magnus’s response was a clean cut across the length of his palm. He offered it to Dru to use as ink as he left his assurance that, no matter what, he would bring Damier his shipment so long as the demon kept his promise in return.

Damier beamed when it was all over. “Excellent.”

Magnus accepted the bit of fabric Dru handed him and wrapped his hand, all the while studying the demon watching him back. “Where is the cargo?”

“The Isle of Cree.” Amusement shimmered in the other man’s cruel eyes when Magnus went rigid. “I hear you’re familiar with it, Magnus.”

Every muscle in Magnus’s body stiffened as that name hit the very heart of his resolve with an arrow and unleashed an avalanche of misery, pain, and fury unlike anything he’d felt before or since. The crawling sensations agitated the shiny ropes of corded skin cutting a maze across the width of his back.

Gideon looked to Magnus when Damier continued to smirk and Magnus had gone silent. “Mag?”

He ripped himself free of the hold and squared his shoulders, ignoring the phantom claws scuttling up the center of his spine. “What do you know of that place?”

“Everyone knows about it,” Damier replied curtly. “It’s not exactly a secret, is it?”

“What’s the Isle of Cree?” Gideon pressed when Magnus could think of nothing to say and Damier amused himself studying the other man’s face.

“Maybe not everyone,” Damier mused with an upward tilt of his lips.

Everyone did. Most just knew it by a different name, but whatever name given, it remained a fable, a passing fairytale story people told children to keep them from wandering off. After all, that was how Magnus had found it all those eons ago.

“I’ll be there.”

The grin widened, revealing every single fang in the demon’s mouth. “I knew we wouldn’t have a problem. Go ahead and give Dru the exact location and she will arrange for my curator to meet you there, a Sorta demon by the name of Clou. He, and five of the best Chinyu warriors, will be accompanying you back on the journey. You’re welcome to bring one other, if you wish, but that’s entirely up to you.”

“Chinyu warriors,” Magnus muttered, not sure why that surprised him. “Why do you need me when you already have the most lethal band of mercenaries in seven realms protecting your package?”

Damier never so much as batted an eyelash at the question. “You know why.”

He did know why. It wasn’t because of his strength or his reputation for being ruthless. Damier wanted him because Magnus was the only person who had ever escaped that place. The only person who knew how.

“What’s in the shipment?” Gideon demanded. “That level of security is a bit extreme unless—”

“As I said,” Damier cut him off with a single, cutting glance. “That is none of your concern. The item in that container is highly valuable … and mine.”

Gideon looked no less wary, but he turned his gaze to Magnus. “Where’s the Isle of Cree? I’ve never seen it on a map.”

Damier seemed amused by the question. One corner of his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin that gave him an air of recklessness. It also made Magnus think they shared a private joke that excluded Gideon, which pissed him off.

“And you won’t,” Damier said for him smoothly. “It’s a place only two men have ever returned from. One of them…” He glanced sideways at Magnus. “Is standing with us in this very room.”

“And the other?” Gideon prompted.

Damier’s grin burst into a full blown, laughing smile. “He lost his mind and ate himself.”