Chapter 2

 

Beautiful in an eye-catching dress in deep scarlet, Kyaerin Maxwell leaned forward to squint at Magnus from a face framed with soft, golden curls.

She sat in her usual spot on the parlor sofa. Riley sat on her left, comfortably dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. Her bright, red hair was twisted into a sleek French braid that was scooped over one shoulder and restrained by an elastic. She sat slightly slanted to one side, her shoulder propped against her husband’s thigh.

It had become an unspoken thing since the growth of their family. The men had been resigned to the armrests of the twin sofas facing each other around a wooden coffee table. His father was on his mother’s side, hip braced against the armrest, one hand resting lightly on his wife’s shoulder. In the opposite sofa, Gideon was doing the same, but his palm was curved around the back of Valkyrie’s neck, beneath the thick, unbound strands falling in dark waves down a narrow back. Unlike Riley, Valkyrie sat straight, poised as though ready to leap up at a moment’s notice and fight. One leather clad leg was extended beneath the table. It was the one Magnus knew she would use to push off on.

On her right, squished in the middle cushion, sat Imogen, the orphaned banshee. Her expression was ever the one of perpetual panic. Her fretfulness always made Magnus anxious, like he needed to constantly be on alert.

Reggie sat on her other side, quiet and thoughtful. Unlike Gideon, with his love of leather, or Octavian’s fondness for dark cargo pants and t-shirts, or Magnus’s black jeans and black t-shirts, Reggie favored the lighter colored jeans and the bright shirts with the odd symbols and sayings stamped across the front. He wore a t-shirt in blinding red that red: Good morning. I see the assassins have failed, over acid washed jeans. Magnus had never understood his brother’s humor, but as the youngest of the group, he could get away with a lot more.

Magnus focused on his mother and her questions.

“I’ll be away for a few days. If all goes as planned, I’ll return by end of week,” he summarized, in no mood to repeat himself a second time.

“But where are you going?” she stressed.

He and Gideon had both agreed on the travel back that it would be best if their mother remained ignorant to the exact location of his journey. She may not know where the Isle of Cree was, but their father would and he would tell her. Then she would lose her shit and Magnus was in no mood to settle her down.

“It’s not far,” was the best he could do without outright lying.

Dainty brows furrowed in suspicion and annoyance. “But where—?”

“No,” he said at last, flat and even. “Mom.” He stopped her when she opened her mouth, her protest already bright in her eyes. “Debate is out of the question. I will be going and I will be coming back.”

Impatience tangled across his mother’s face, twisting her mouth together.

“Mo chroí.” His father squeezed her shoulder lightly. “It must be done.”

In no way did that ease Kyaerin’s unease. “But if it’s dangerous…”

“Everything we do is dangerous,” Octavian reminded her gently. “Dad’s right. We are warriors. We are trained for dangerous situations.”

She looked to Magnus, taking in his face as though terrified she would never see it again. “But must you go alone?”

He started to say yes, refusing to pull his brothers into hell with him when Gideon beat him to the answer.

“No.” He shot Magnus a glower that stated he knew exactly what the man was up to. “He can bring one other person.”

That relieved some of the tension wrinkling their mother’s brow. “So, will you be going with him, Gideon?”

Gideon shook his head. “Magnus and I agreed that we,” he glanced down at Valkyrie in emphasis, “should remain behind to make sure Damier follows through on his end of the bargain.”

A muscle coiled in the Harvester’s jaw, but she didn’t fight him.

“I’ll go,” Octavian volunteered, surprising them all.

Since the attack on Riley, the one that turned her from human to strigoi, Octavian had been less than willing to do anything that might take him away from the manor and her. Magnus believed it was guilt at not being able to protect her the way a mate should have. It infuriated Magnus, but it was what it was.

“No.” Liam straightened his shoulders, his expression tight. “I need you to remain behind.”

Bemused glances were exchanged around the room.

“Liam?” Kyaerin turned her body slightly to face her husband.

His father hesitated. His gaze jumped from the faces watching him and settled on the one that meant the world to him.

“I was going to tell you,” he murmured quietly. “There wasn’t time.”

“Tell me what?” Kyaerin asked.

Liam sighed. He scanned the room again. “I had a meeting with the heads of houses—”

That seemed to be news to his wife. “When?”

Liam’s blue eyes lowered to the knee bent over the armrest. His hand slipped off Kyaerin’s shoulder and splayed across his thigh.

“Last month.”

If possible, Kyaerin’s eyebrows scuttled even higher on her brow, making her eyes nearly bulge from her skull. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His palm rubbed against the soft material of his black trousers. “Because it wasn’t important and I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Mom.” Octavian cut their mother off gently, but focused on their father. “What did they want?”

“Tiana seems to believe the houses are in danger.” Liam clasped his fingers together loosely in his lap. “Since the slaughtering of vail creatures, the underworld is convinced that Casters are now a threat. Tiana is under the impression that there may be a rebellion against us, against the Keepers. The houses agreed that it would be best if we…” He faltered. His eyes averted. “If we pick our seconds.”

It was no surprise to anyone that Octavian would be their father’s choice in a second. He was the eldest. Magnus had no patience, Gideon wouldn’t bother, and Reggie was last in line. Octavian was the only realistic and logical choice. But it had always been unspoken. In centuries, their father had never made that decision out loud. He had always been the leader. They had always followed him, because he had always seemed impenetrable, an unstoppable force on the battlefield. It had never—as illogical as it was—occurred to them that he wouldn’t be there.

“A second…” The words were a raspy breath escaping their mother’s stiff lips. Her face had gone chalky, intensifying the paleness of her shiny eyes.

Liam reached for her. “It is but a precaution, love. Like any other war.”

She drew away from him, a first as far as Magnus could remember. “This isn’t like other wars,” she whispered. “You never locked me out of your decisions in other wars. You never lied to me.”

His father stiffened, whether from her words or the retreat of his touch, Magnus wasn’t sure. “I would have told you, but we have all been preoccupied with finding the child. This was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Kyaerin rose slowly, shakily to her feet. “You have been out of the manor nearly daily since this … meeting,” she said the word as though it were foul. “You could have been attacked. You could have been killed!”

Liam’s chin lifted in defiance. “You seem to have forgotten that you are mated to a warrior, mo ghrá. I do not and will not send my sons out to fight, to die, while I cower behind walls.”

His mother’s nostrils flared. “No,” she whispered with a splintering chill that whipped through the room like an arctic blast. “Mo mhuirnín, I have not forgotten, nor have I forgotten the nights I spent awake in our bed alone, praying to whatever god, demon, or angel listening to see my sons home alive, to see you home alive. I have not forgotten the days I spent pacing our empty home, falling apart every time there was a knock at the door, so sure it was news of your death. Do not make it sound like you fought those wars alone, Liam. I may not have been holding a sword by your side, but I fought my own demons.”

There was a momentarily flicker of anger on his father’s face before it softened. Just like that, he went from a murderous warrior to a loving father and husband. Magnus didn’t know how he did it, but his father was the only one who could keep the two apart so effectively.

“Forgive me,” he said gently. “I do not wish to upset you. Had it been of any importance, I would not have hesitated to make you aware. Tiana has always had a flare for the overdramatic.”

Kyaerin said nothing.

“He’s not alone,” Riley whispered. “And neither are you.”

Kyaerin looked to the redhead, eyes bloodshot and glistening. Wordlessly, she extended a hand and Riley took it. His mom regained her seat and stared at the empty hearth with a set sort of determination.

Her silence left behind an awkwardness that Magnus never really knew what to do with. He knew something needed to be said, some kind of words of comfort, but he remained firmly rooted to his spot, glancing at his brothers to say something for him. They, unlike him, had the necessary words women required to be happy. Magnus knew how to kill a man with a knife at thirty paces. He knew how to track, hunt, and skin just about any prey. He knew the inner and outer workings of all weapons. But women … women and their wants, needs, and feelings eluded him. Keeping one on the throes of passion was one thing, but to keep one happy? He didn’t know the first thing. That was business he left to his brothers and his father.

“I’ll go with Magnus.” Reggie leaned forward, disturbing the tension by resting his elbows on his knees. “I can be packed and ready in an hour.”

“I could go,” Riley piped in quietly. “I mean, no offense, but you guys are always telling me I’m stronger than anyone here, right?”

It was true. Logically. She was stronger than the whole group put together. She was faster, too. But…

“The place I’m going,” Magnus said turning to her, “it’s not a place for you.”

That wasn’t entirely true. It was the perfect place for someone like her, someone with unlimited strength and speed. But he couldn’t guarantee they’d be returning. That was part of the reason he hadn’t wanted Gideon to go, not that he’d said as much to the man, but if Magnus failed, he wanted it to be just him. Plus, Gideon now knew Damier’s face. If Magnus didn’t return, Gideon would know where to go to get his child back.

“Or you,” he told Reggie. “I will be faster alone.”

“No!” His mother’s sharp, blue eyes pinned him. “You will take your brother and you will be home by the end of the week, do you understand?”

Magnus looked to his father, willing the other man with his eyes not to allow Reggie to come along. But Liam only shook his head slowly, saying without words that he was already in enough deep water.

Magnus sucked in a deep breath. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll meet you in the diner in an hour.”

The meeting was adjourned. His mother left immediately after with his father following at her heels. Reggie hurried to get his bags with Imogen dogging his steps, rattling off all the things he should take along with him. The only ones remaining were Octavian, Riley, Gideon, Valkyrie, and Magnus.

“Okay, now tell us all the things you didn’t say in front of Mom,” Octavian said, lifting a dark eyebrow at Magnus.

“You need to keep a close eye on Damier,” he said instead, focused solely on Gideon and Valkyrie. “If, for whatever reason, I don’t return, you need to do whatever it takes to get the information from him.”

“Why wouldn’t you be coming back?” Riley demanded.

Magnus chose to ignore the question. “Stay out of the market, do you understand? You don’t belong there.”

“Magnus!” Octavian snapped. “What the hell are you up to?”

He ignored that too. He began to back out of the room.

“Hey, wait!” Riley took a step towards him. “You’re leaving? Just like that? What about Reggie?”

Magnus met her gaze with narrowed eyes. “He doesn’t need to be with me where I’m going.”

With that, he turned and stalked from the room. He took long strides down the corridor to the wide stairs. At the top, the image of Michael glowered down at him from the glass stained window. The ever-righteous archangel looked as sullen and disapproving as ever as Magnus descended into the back foyer. He cut down the narrow hallway connecting the main part of the house from the diner and broke through into the kitchen.

Buttery soft planks of winter sunlight crashed through gleaming windows and spilled across stubbornly polished floors. They illuminated the cluster of chairs and tables scattered throughout the spacious room. The evening rush had yet to begin so the place held an eerie emptiness as Magnus hurried to the high, arched doors.

“Leaving without me, big brother?”

He nearly jumped clean out of his skin. It was anyone’s guess how Reggie had snuck up on him, but there he stood, holding open the swinging doors leading into the kitchen with a duffle in one hand and his angelic blade in the other. There was an arrogant smirk on his face that tightened Magnus’s jaw.

“How did you—?”

Reggie raised an eyebrow. “How did I know what you were up to?” He let the doors swing closed behind him. “How did I beat you down here? How did I already have my bags packed?” The younger man joined him on the two steps leading to the front doors. “Let’s face it, I’m just better than you.”

Magnus barely repressed the urge to swat him upside the head. “You’re not coming.”

Reggie sucked in air between his teeth. “Sorry, bro. Mom’s orders.”

Hoisting his bag over one shoulder, Reggie flounced through the doors and out into the late January chill.

Magnus gritted his jaw and marched after him. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they stomped their way to the rows of assorted vehicles lining what used to be a gravel driveway. Now the bits of broken rock had mixed with mounds of disturbed and muddy snow. The sound echoed through the trees, muffling the low whisper of the winds picking at the bare branches and the rustle of a deer grazing just out of sight.

Reggie stopped at Magnus’s bike. He stared down at its gleaming black and silver body and soft, smooth leather seat with mild amusement.

“I guess we’ll be taking my ride?” he mused.

Magnus glanced over to the white Dodge pickup glinting in the fading light and frowned. “What’s wrong with my bike?”

Reggie snorted, feet already cutting a path to the truck. “I’m not straddling you.”

Seeing the point in that, Magnus followed.

“Where’re your bags?” Reggie asked as they climbed into the sunbaked seats; the interior smelled of warm leather, chili burritos, and Reggie’s favorite peppermint gum.

Magnus wrinkled his nose, partially at the smell and partially at the realization that, in his great escape attempt, he hadn’t gone to get his bags from his room.

Reggie smirked as though reading Magnus’s mind. “Go on.” He settled into his seat. “I won’t leave without you.”

His embarrassment transferred into anger when Magnus answered, “You shouldn’t be coming!”

Reggie shrugged, unfazed. “Yet, here I be.”

“This isn’t a joke!” he snapped. “There is a very good chance we might not come back and Mom will lose two sons.”

Somber now, Reggie met his gaze squarely. “How do you think she’d feel if I let you go alone? How do you think I’d feel?”

“Damn it, Reg!”

“I’m coming,” Reggie said, ignoring Magnus’s growl. “So, either go get your stuff or buckle in.”

Magnus opened his mouth to tell the other man he was an idiot when the front doors opened and their mother hurried out. Magnus and Reggie exchanged bemused glances before climbing out of the car.

“I’m glad I caught you,” she said, slightly panting.

“Everything okay?” Reggie asked.

She smiled. “Of course, but I’m not going to see my boys for a week.” She held open her arms, her smile shaky. “I need hugs before you go.”

Reggie stepped forward before Magnus and was engulfed by her long, slender arms. Her small hands fisted into the back of his coat. She whispered something Magnus couldn’t hear, but Reggie’s shoulders tightened with his gentle squeeze of her tiny frame. She planted a kiss to his cheek before turning to Magnus.

He moved in without hesitation; if this was the last time he saw her, he wasn’t going to waste a second of it.

“Mo stoirín,” she whispered, pressing him in close to her warm scent of lilacs and baby powder. “Never forget how much I love you and how proud my heart is for the man you have become.”

Magnus tightened his grip on her. “I love you, too, Mom.”

She sniffled against his shoulder. Her hand stroked over the back of his head once before she drew back. Her blue eyes were red rimmed and sparkling with the tears she was fighting miserably to hold back. Her nose was red, her cheeks flushed, and it reminded him of all the times she’d stood in the doorway of their home like that, fighting to keep a brave face while they prepared to head into battle. And he had zero words of comfort for her.

She smiled weakly. “Be safe, yes?” She drew in a shaky breath. “Take care of each other.” She smoothed down the lapel of Magnus’s coat. “No fighting … each other,” she added when Reggie opened his mouth. “Come home, okay?”

Magnus leaned in and kissed her cheek. They both knew that was the only answer he could give her that wasn’t a promise he may not be able to keep.

She grabbed him in a final hug before doing the same with Reggie. With a bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she turned and hurried inside.

Reggie scoffed as the door closed behind her. “Woman acts like she’s never going to see us again.” He pivoted on the heel of his boot to face Magnus. “I, for one, am too pretty not to come back.”

Magnus shot him a raised eyebrow. “Have you been channeling Gideon?”

Reggie snorted again. “Bitch please.” He gave a dramatic tug of his coat collar. “This is all me.”

Magnus could only shake his head. He left his brother grinning after him and made his way to his bike. He cast a sidelong glance at the manor, at its many windows, doors, and even more mysteries. In all the years he’d lived there, he had yet to explore the many nooks and crannies that was given to them in an attempt to dress up their servitude. Most days, Final Judgment felt more like a shackle than a home. Were it not for his family, he would never return.

With more stories than even he could count, the structure was a looming tower of dark, blank eyes looking out at a world that had no idea it existed. For centuries, it had been run by them and a select few humans the angels deemed important.

The chosen.

The divine.

Those handpicked to walk the two worlds.

They were the keepers of the secrets, the guardians of the weapons and dogs. They paid the bills, because, as far as the human world was concerned, Magnus and his family did not exist. There were no mortal records of them. Being immortal made it tricky to own property, pay the electricity bill, or even own bank accounts. That was where the humans came in.

They were members of high societies. Men and women of power mostly. They did whatever needed to be done to make sure Magnus and those like him, remained in business.

The whole matter was complex and highly illegal, but Magnus had more important matters to concern himself with.

He snatched the leather saddle bags off the tail end of his bike and stalked back to the truck. Reggie watched him, saying nothing until Magnus had tossed his bags into the back and had slipped into the passenger side seat.

“You travel already packed?”

Magnus shot him a glance as he tugged his belt into place across his lap—safety first. “Weapons.”

Reggie whistled through his teeth and turned to the wheel. “That’s a lot of weapons.” He turned the key in the ignition, put the pickup into drive and shot them out of the driveway, through the narrow gap of trees, around the winding trail and exploded out of the secret passage like a cork out of a pressurized bottle. “Where to?”

Magnus drew in a breath. “Go east until you see where the day dies and the night is born.”

“Uh…” Reggie cleared his throat. “The sun doesn’t set in the east.”

“It does here.”

An anxious twitch made his right leg bounce. He caught it before it became an erratic tremor he couldn’t control. He planted an elbow on the door handle and nipped at his thumb nail.

“Dude, are…” Reggie shot him a quick sideways glance. “Are you biting your nails?”

Magnus dropped his hand into his lap. “Shut up and turn left.”

“Okay, but now I’m concerned.” Reggie turned left down a broken, industrial road. The truck bumped and jangled hard enough to make Magnus’s stomach hurt. “When was the last time you were nervous?”

“I’m not nervous!” He balled his fingers and stared furiously out the window. “We need to make a stop.”

Strictly speaking, he wasn’t entirely sure they were allowed to take the Hellhounds out of their crates for anything other than hunting business, but the way he saw it, Dante was practically his. They had hunted and destroyed demons together for close to five centuries. Magnus had essentially raised him from ash-hood and he was the only one the dog listened to.

Myrinin looked up from a pet care magazine when the bell above the pet shop door jingled, signaling their arrival. He closed the magazine and set it aside, his smile already wide and welcoming.

“Gentlemen.” He stalked around the wood and glass counter to greet them. “I was not expecting you.”

The man was an exact replica of his son, Magnus noted with some annoyance. The same white-blond hair, the same twinkling blue eyes, and the same creepy as fuck smile.  Magnus had met Jonas a few times and in those few times it had taken Magnus all his resolve not to throttle the kid. The dad wasn’t nearly as braindead or as useless, but he lost points for having such an idiot for a son.

“We need one of the dogs,” Magnus told him.

Myrinin inclined his head. “Of course.” He motioned for them with a gallant sweep of his hand, the way one would when inviting someone into a fancy parlor for tea. All that was missing was a bow. “They were both just fed an hour ago and they had their claws sharpened last week.”

“When were they last bathed?” Magnus asked.

“Also last week,” Myrinin said. “We try to get everything while they’re … preoccupied.”

He dug into the pockets of his beige trousers and removed a set of iron keys. Magnus was relieved to see they weren’t just hanging on the backdoor where anyone could come upon them. Humans may not be able to see Hellhounds, but that didn’t mean Hellhounds couldn’t see them. Most times they were mistaken for random animal attacks, but it was known to happen. The last thing Magnus wanted was for his dog to get sent back to hell because of some stupid mortal poking their nose where it didn’t belong.

The heavy door opened to a concrete room painted entirely in shadows, except for the strip of light cast by the open doorway. Deep in the bowels, something growled, the chilling rumble of evil. To humans, it was the hot breath of death kissing the nape of a sweaty neck. To demons, it was the sound of their death. To Magnus, it was the call of a friend.

Moving with long strides, he stomped to the crate and yanked out the spikes. Each one was the width and size of a sledgehammer head. They cluttered loudly when they were tossed aside, one after another.

The crate gave a long, sorrowful creak as the wood shifted. The front panel pulled away from the rest and slammed to the ground with rattling force. Dust plumed. In the doorway, Myrinin shifted, his unease palpable.

“Karos,” Magnus commanded the dog to come.

Light glinted off the sleek, black fur of a single paw emerging from the depths of the crate. Each talon glinted as though made of polished metal. Each razor-sharp tip clicked with chilling softness against the stone floor.

Dante rose, stretching all six legs from their bent position until he stood a full two and a half feet at Magnus’s side. His flat head lifted. Magnus was fixed with a set of deep, pupil-less eyes the smoky red of a forest fire at dusk. The crimson swirled in the confines of a black ring. They sat close to the ribbed snout that ended in a pair of wet nostrils. The nostrils flared.

Magnus extended a hand and set it on the flat, velvety top of the hound’s head. He scratched. Dante panted, tail thumping erratically against the fallen crate door.

“Ready for a car ride?”

The tail thumped louder, which Magnus took for a yes.

“Aw man…” Reggie grumbled. “I just got the truck cleaned.”

Ignoring that, Magnus began leading Dante from the room.

“Pardon me.” Myrinin didn’t exactly step forward, but he looked like he wanted to … if the hound hadn’t been standing so close. “You seem to have forgotten his leash.”

“He doesn’t need it where we’re going,” Magnus said, stalking past the man with Dante trotting after him. “There are no humans there.”