Chapter 11

 

It was dawn before any of it stopped and the flashes faded into a normal flow of thought, becoming almost recognizable. But Magnus’s own thoughts had become a fuzzy, hazy mess too exhausted to give a shit. His temples throbbed, making his temper prickle and his eyes feel dry and itchy as he staggered towards the bathroom.

The shower was ice cold, his final, desperate attempt to clear his head. The drumming of the jets calmed the voices. In their absence, his brain seemed to thrum the way a thumb would after getting caught in the car door. It was violent and ferocious, and blazed like a motherfucker. It was enough to make him want to retch under the pain.

Instead, he shut off the tap and towel dried. There was a lack of energy in his hands that made him want to chop them off. The lethargy roamed up his arms and rolled down the length of him, making every movement painfully dull.

“Fuck...”

Grinding the heels of his hands into the back of his eyes, Magnus ambled from the room, all the while struggling to brace himself for the impact of his family and their insistent need to think and talk.

Midway, he remembered Zara and started back, slightly relieved for the detour.

Her room was across from his, separated by a worn slash of carpet and two doors. Reggie was on her right side, an endless row of empty rooms on the other. Each door looked identical, except hers seemed to radiate heat waves. The wood seemed to pulse, an agitated wound that made him pause.

Through the connection, there was nothing from the woman inside. No voices, no thoughts. But he could feel her, could sense her pain and heartbreak through the obstacles between them. Her every wavering emotion seemed to spill through the cracks, becoming a sand storm of sharp edged daggers swirling around him. Each one created a nick as fine as a papercut that would have made a lesser man scream in agony. But Magnus only tightened his jaw against it, refusing to allow the snarling beast of anxiety to overwhelm his calm.

“Zara?”

He didn’t pause to knock. The knob gave easily beneath the twist of his wrist. He stormed in, instinctively prepared to fight with both hands balled into fists at his sides. His boots thumped across hardwood and echoed through the darkness.

The curtains had been drawn, casting the room into a hazy shade of gray that took his eyes a moment to adjust to. The bed lay untouched, the sheets made, the pillows still perfectly fluffed. Her dress lay across the foot of it, a white sash against the floral comforter. But the woman herself was nowhere to be found, even while the essence of her continued to pulse through the space.

He called her again as he stalked his way to the closed bathroom door. His strides ate the space in three clean stomps. But there, he paused and raised a fist to knock, as his mother always taught him to.

“You in there?”

The pounding of his fist was a notch harder than he’d intended. The frame rattled beneath the assault. But it worked. The door opened and she stood before him, ashen and drawn. There were red rings circling her eyes and a gash along her bottom lip from anxious teeth that hadn’t been there before. She was cladded in a black t-shirt and nothing else. Her heavy mane was twisted into a thick plait down her back and stopped just below her knees where the vines twined up the pale limb. But his attention lacked its usual interest and shot back to her face.

“What is it?”

His uncharacteristic bout of concern was met with the narrowing of her eyes and the firm set of her jaw. “Do you make it a habit of barging into a woman’s room uninvited, Mr. Avery?”

Unbelievable, he thought, drawing back. But it served him right. What the hell did he care if she was crying anyway?

“Breakfast.” He grumbled, turning on his heel. But something stopped him and he spun back to face her. “You’re very ungrateful.”

Her eyebrows darted up into her hairline and she blinked rapidly. “Ungrateful?” she cried. “What on earth do you think I have to be grateful for? The fact that you took me from my home and intend to sell me to some carnivorous demon? Or perhaps that you think I’m some prisoner of war without any rights?”

“You are a prisoner of war!” he snapped back. “You’re lucky I haven’t chained you to the basement with a bucket to piss in.”

Her eyes widened in horror and outrage. “So you can torture me like that poor man you have mildewing down there?”

Magnus stiffened. “That poor man has done things you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, but I do understand.” She took a bold step forward, bringing the three steps between them down to two. “You seem to forget what I am capable of. I know exactly what you want from him and what you have done to him to get it. But he’s stronger than you and your family anticipated, isn’t he? Otherwise, you would have already put him out of his misery. It takes a unique sort of sadist to do what you people have done to him.”

A muscle tightened in the pit of his stomach, a wrenching that felt extraordinarily like being sucker punched. But outwardly, he met her venomous glower with a bitter one of his own.

“A sympathetic demon,” he snorted bitterly. “Now I really have seen everything.”

Fury leapt in those stunning eyes, the kind that warned a man to run, but Magnus stayed rooted to the spot.

“I am not a demon, Caster,” she seethed, and even though her lips never moved, each word seemed to come grated through clenched teeth. “Demons are not permitted in the holy temple. They cannot speak to the Gods. They are dark and vile.” She paused. Then continued. “Perhaps you can’t sense the difference when your soul shares remarkable similarities.”

Magnus smirked. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I don’t have a soul.”

“Oh, but you do,” she breathed. Her eyes glimmered with a faint glow, like light passing over a gem. They sparked and seemed to sharpen in a way that made him want to take a step back. “It’s there, deep in that dark abyss you bury all your secrets. I hear it rattling around inside you, a shriveled lump of coal tainted by every evil thing you’ve done and you have done plenty.” Her head cocked to the side, a taunting tick turning up the corner of her lips. “Tell me, how does your family stomach you.”

Her words ripped through him with the deadly accuracy of an expert assassin’s blade. Each one cut deep into all the places he refused to venture inside himself. But it wasn’t enough to break him.

“With a sprinkling of salt,” he told her evenly and had the pleasure of watching her eyes harden. “You can play around in my head all you want, but you won’t find the thing you’re looking for.”

“And what do you think that is?”

“Redemption. Remorse.” He smirked. “A heart.” He knew he had her when she averted her gaze. “Like I said, you imprinted on the wrong brother.”

Her eyes shot back up to his. “I did not choose this.”

Magnus shrugged. “That makes two of us. Now, we just need to get rid of that piece of shit mark, along with all the other crap, like you being in my head, and we can all live the rest of our lives in peace.”

“If I had the ability to remove that trait, do you not think I wouldn’t utilize it?” she retorted unpleasantly. “It is an imperfect gift.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t live the rest of my life reading everyone’s thoughts, so you need to take it back.”

“Then take this back!” She flung out her arm baring the mark matching his. “Do you think I want to be branded by you like cattle?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her it was the highest kind of honor, but what was the point? She wouldn’t be around long enough to appreciate the symbolism or rarity of such an occurrence.

“How do you turn it off?”

“You can’t.”

“You can. I know you can. I haven’t heard you in hours, so I know there’s a way.”

He knew he had her when she folded her arms and looked away.

“It takes years of training.”

“Give me the short version.”

Anger shimmered in the pale surface of her eyes. “There is no short version. It takes practice and meditation—”

“I don’t have time for all that,” he bit out through a tightly clamped jaw. “I need to stop the voices now!”

“I need to return to my temple, but we can’t all have what we want,” she muttered.

How was it possible for a single woman to be so fucking exasperating? He’d met thousands throughout his many years, but none had ever made him want to strangle them with his bare hands. This unique brand of bloodlust was new, even to him, which only infuriated him even more. It was made worse by the fact that he was suffering with blinding headaches and nose bleeds thanks to the bullshit she did to him, while she remained blissfully immune. What kind of joke was that? If anything, it solidified his reasoning that she was doing this on purpose just to drive him crazy.

“I’m not.”

He blinked, still not fully used to having someone so in tuned with his private thoughts. “Seriously, get out of my head.”

Her face bunched up into a glower. “Do you have any idea how loud your thoughts are? You’re practically screaming them at me.”

Magnus willed himself to remain calm and remind himself his mother would kill him if he murdered his supposed mate. Instead, he turned away.

“Get dressed,” he grumbled over his shoulder on his way out the door.

He shut it behind him and waited.

“There you are.” Reggie rounded the corner and stopped next to him. “Mom sent me to wake you up.”

Magnus refrained from telling the man he’d been up all night.

“Just waiting on her highness,” he mumbled, eyeing Zara’s door.

Reggie followed his gaze. “I like her.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Jesus, not you, too.”

“What?” Reggie chuckled. “She seems nice.”

“For a demon?” Magnus added with a raised eyebrow.

Reggie’s dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Oracles aren’t demons. I mean, they can’t be if they’re speakers for the Gods, and whatnot. They’re basically angels 2.0. All the books say that they’re actually one of the good guys.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Magnus sighed. “I’ve already heard this, but I’m pretty sure it’s bullshit. I can smell demon in her.”

“Yeah, I know, right?” Reggie bunched up his nose. “It’s weird.”

“Maybe she’s not an oracle then,” Magnus mused. “Wouldn’t be the first time a demon’s lied.”

Reggie shook his head slowly. “No, I believe her. I just can’t explain it.”

The door took that moment to open, revealing Zara in her white gown, her hair a wavy sheet of silvery white down her back. Her gaze moved languidly from Magnus to Reggie, and she smiled. An actual, genuine smile.

“My pleasure,” Reggie said to something only he could hear. “Can I walk you down?”

She stepped over the threshold and slipped her arm through the one Reggie offered her and the two made their way down the hall, neither one glancing at Magnus.

Biting back his welling annoyance, he followed the pair down to the dining room, taking great care not to notice how the slit in her gown opened all the way to her hip, occasionally parting to flash him with glimpses of smooth side hip and a whole lotta leg and one bare foot. The rest of the material dragged behind her in a pale train of nearly transparent material. It was not a breakfast type of dress. It wasn’t any event kind of dress that didn’t involve the bedroom. It certainly didn’t belong on her while she was on his brother’s arm.

The rest of the family was already seated at the table when they arrived. The low buzz of familiar chatter stilled as heads turned in their direction. Reggie pulled out Zara’s chair and she slipped into it gracefully.

“I apologize,” she said telepathically to the entire group. “I had a moment of difficulty understanding the bathing system.”

“Oh!” his mother gasped out loud. “I should have shown you. I’m so sorry.”

Zara shook her head, her smile the same one she’d given Reggie. “Please. It was a good learning experience.”

“You don’t have showers where you’re from?” Riley cut in.

“Showers?” Zara mimicked with a tilt of her head. “An appropriate name for it, but no. Our bathing water comes from an underground spring.”

“Regardless, after breakfast, I’ll walk you through the manor and show you how everything works,” Kyaerin assured her firmly. “We’ll start with the bathrooms.”

“After breakfast, she’s going with me to see Damier,” Magnus cut in, reaching for the bowl of scrambled eggs.

“Are you still taking her to him?” Riley blurted.

Helping himself to a ladle full, Magnus set the bowl down and fixed his gaze on his sister-in-law. “Everyone here seems to have forgotten that I made a blood pact in exchange for a baby who actually belongs in this family. I, for one, plan on keeping my word.”

“What is the matter with him?” Riley’s inner voice screamed. “She’s his mate!”

“That really makes no difference to me,” Magnus answered without thinking.

Riley blinked crimson eyes. “What … I didn’t say…”

Magnus put his hand up to stop her. “You can’t break a blood pact with a demon.”

“But you can’t give him your mate either!” she shot back. “How can you even think…” she broke off, but her inner voice continued for her. “I’d die before handing Octavian over to anyone.”

He knew she meant it. She’d nearly lost her life to the Chief Demon of hell to protect his brother.

“How is this even possible?” she exclaimed, turning to his mother. “I thought you said that when a selkie found his mate that…”

“That it was immediately love at first sight?” Kyaerin murmured with a dry little quirk of her lips. “I also told you that it doesn’t work that way. It’s a choice. There isn’t a power on earth that can force two people to love each other if they don’t want to.”

“But the imprint,” Riley protested. “The bond. I don’t understand how…” She scrubbed at her brow with the tips of four fingers, but stopped the flow of her inner thoughts from spilling across the table. “Does that mean Octavian can just choose to stop loving me one day? What’s the point of a soulmate if they can fall out of love with you whenever they want?”

His sister-in-law’s spiraling fears and doubts bombarded him with an avalanche of guilt he didn’t know how to lift. He sure as hell didn’t know how to appease her uncertainties. He didn’t know how to tell her that nothing short of death would stop Octavian from loving her. Maybe not even then. His brother was crazy for the tiny redhead. One only had to look at him to see it.

But Magnus had broken something in her that wouldn’t be fixed with a simple speech about eternal love. She wanted him to embrace the curse as willingly and wholly as his brothers had. She didn’t understand how he could want so little to do with the woman some mystical fate had deemed as his. That was reason enough to defy it. He didn’t need to be set up. He could find his own damn woman just fine on his own. And she sure as shit wouldn’t be a fucking demon.

“I’m not a demon!”

“Jesus Christ!” His unconscious snarl made the entire table jump, startled. But he snapped his head in the direction of the woman scowling at him like some sexy as fuck teacher. “Get out!”

“Magnus!” His mother gasped, outraged, mistaking his command as him telling Zara to get out of the manor and not his head.

“Not … I didn’t mean…” He broke off with an exasperated snarl under his breath. “Never mind.” He pushed away from the table. “I’m going to start preparing. Hurry up,” he told the demon.

He took himself and his thoughts away from the table and the watchful eyes of his family and wandered the corridors. He made a stop at his bedroom to grab his weapons, his ankle blade, his double-edged sword, and the cellphone that didn’t work anywhere near the property.

That was the downside of being owned by angels. Nothing from the veil was allowed to exist and everything that did exist, needed to be concealed. Humans were promised heaven in the afterlife in exchange for their silence, and their services kept the manor functioning. They made certain no one asked questions, questions like why a field in the middle of nowhere required heat and power, because humans couldn’t see Final Judgment. The thirty-story building was cloaked by angelic enchantment, magic that disrupted electronic devices, like cellphones. Only three humans had ever found their way to the front doors. One had been half demon and was destroyed by the angels. The other two turned out to be the mates of his brothers. All three had come as a great surprise.

Magnus preferred the no humans rule. It was the only real gift the angels had ever given them. Humans were a disgrace to everything that had ever walked the earth, and they had a flare for fucking things up for themselves, which made Magnus’s job that much harder. His brothers would disagree, but unlike him, they didn’t see what an endless, tireless loop it all was. No matter how hard they fought, or how many idiot humans they saved, there was always that one human that called the wrong demon and got himself turned into bat shit, which of course, the Casters had to clean up. After several centuries of this, who wouldn’t give up? Nothing like pushing that stupid bolder up the hill only to have it roll all the way back down.

But that was the deal. That was their job. Was he not given the opportunity to take his frustrations out on rogue demons, Magnus didn’t think he could be trusted around humans.

Nevertheless, the cellphone was stowed into the pocket of his coat. The sword was strapped across his back, and he returned to the dining room to find it in an uproar.

The chaos tangled all the voices, making him think of Wall Street during a crashing stock market. Everyone was standing and yelling, which made the walls of his skull rattle and his vision blur. He barely caught himself on the doorframe when the ground tilted.

“Quiet!”

The outer voices immediately stopped. For a second, the inner voices halted as well, but only a second before it rose again as if someone was increasing the volume on the stereo. Magnus took the reprieve and moved closer to the demon, just enough to dull the noise; it continued, but as if from a great distance.

“You’re not taking her,” Riley said first, breaking the silence. “I don’t care if you want her or not. She’s one of us. She’s family. You can’t barter and trade family.”

“What about my baby?” Valkyrie broke in, rounding on the redhead. “She’s family, too, and this is the only way I’m going to get her back.”

“So, that’s it then?” Riley threw up her hands in exasperation. “All that nonsense everyone kept spouting about soulmates being a once in a lifetime thing was bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Octavian said, attempting to reach for his wife and getting air when Riley jerked back.

“Clearly it is.” She waved a hand towards Zara. “Apparently, we can just get tossed away whenever it suits. Oh well, that one didn’t work out. Maybe the next soulmate will be better.”

“Riley…”

She ignored her mate’s weary sigh. “That’s what this feels like, that we’re replaceable. Not one person has come up with an alternative idea to solve this problem, except to throw Zara to the demons. Literally.”

“Because there isn’t an alternative solution,” Valkyrie retorted. “I want my baby. You don’t seem to understand what it’s like to keep being given hope only to have stupid, selfish people jump in and snatch it away!” Her voice rose with every word until she was screaming. “I am sick and tired of you.”

“Then do something yourself!” Riley screamed back. “Stop sitting around here like a beaten dog waiting for everyone else to sacrifice themselves finding your kid.”

“Enough.” Liam stepped between the two, forcing them to take a step back. “You are both out of line and should be utterly ashamed of yourselves.”

Both Riley and Valkyrie lowered their gazes, but neither said a word.

“We would never trade one of you in,” Kyaerin piped in, moving to stand next to her husband. “Not for anything. Nor,” she continued when Valkyrie opened her mouth, “would we ever give up on that baby. This bickering is solving nothing.”

“What then?” Valkyrie turned to her. “We’re going to deny Damier the thing he wants in exchange for my baby? Then what? Lose Magnus because you all seem to be forgetting that he made a blood pact to bring her,” she motioned to Zara, “in.”

“No one has forgotten,” his father assured her. “But we still have time to formulate a better plan.”

“What plan?” the Harvester cried. “We have been planning for months and this is the closest we’ve ever come and I … I can’t do this anymore!” Her voice wavered. Blue eyes shone with barely suppressed tears as she stared from his mom to his dad. “I can’t. He has my baby and I’m not losing her again.”

Magnus caught the last flicker of her thoughts before her blade was out. Everyone in the room seemed to freeze simultaneously as if someone had pushed pause. But it lasted one heartbeat before Riley came to her senses first. She leaped and planted herself between the brunette and Zara, fangs flashing and her claws extended. Her once delicate features had morphed into the ones of a predator.

“You’re not touching her,” she hissed.

Valkyrie crouched into her battle stance. “You’re not going to stop me.”

The fact of the matter was, Riley could stop her. She’d done it before, and would again, because Riley was the strongest being in that room. It had taken four of them last time to get her off Valkyrie. But Valkyrie had rage and desperation on her side. She had the will of a determined mother. Even then, her thoughts were coiled around the deep sting of betrayal from those she considered family. She couldn’t believe how easily her infant kept getting shoved to the backburner by everyone, how no one seemed to care if they ever got her back. The deal with Damier had been her shining beacon. It had been her last shred of hope after the failure of getting Devlin to talk.

“Devlin!” Magnus had no recollection of blurting the man’s name out loud until it snapped through the fraught tension like a whip.

The others turned to him with mixtures of confusion and surprise. But Magnus was caught in his unexpected realization.

“Magnus?”

He didn’t stop to explain when he spun and ran from the room. He heard his brothers racing after him, but he didn’t stop.

“It won’t work,” said the intruder in his head.

Magnus ignored her as he sprinted down the corridor in the direction of the stairs. He thundered down them, practically breaking an ankle when he landed hard at the bottom.

“He’s sick!” Zara persisted. “Nothing he says will make any sense.”

“But something might.”

He needed it to. He needed something, anything to go by, and there was one person who knew all the answers and refused to give them.