Magnus's Defeat: Final Judgment, #3

By Airicka Phoenix

He swore to end her.

 

All Magnus had to do was pick up a package and get his brother's child back. A simple task that any Caster worth his salt could have done in his sleep, except nothing had been that simple for him in years.

 

For centuries, Magnus relished in the slaughter and annihilation of the demon race. Ridding the world — and hell — of every last one was an oath he was determined to keep. But Magnus had his own gnawing beasts devouring his soul with memories of a past he was powerless to change.

 

Zara was something else. She was beautiful and powerful, and the very definition of evil. Yet everything about her called to him, beckoned him to forget his nightmares and vengeance. She could fix everything if he would just submit, but she was the very thing who had ruined him in the first place and Magnus submitted to no one.

 

But Zara proves to be much more than just the source of his agony. She's a key to ending the war, a power that can tilt the scales and save them all, or will she be the reason he loses everything?

 

She may end him first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Airicka Phoenix
• Release date: Aug 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386792598

Airicka Phoenix

Airicka Phoenix is a multi genre author of over twenty-five bestselling novels starring strong female leads and sexy alpha heroes. She started her journey after never finding the type of books she wanted to read. Her love of tortured souls and forbidden romance carried her into writing her own hard-earned happiness. Currently, she lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her babies and can be found hard at work on her next project. For more about Airicka, visit her at AirickaPhoenix.com

Book preview

Acknowledgement

What more could there possibly be to say, except I LOVE YOU guys! Thank you for sticking by this series and the Maxwell brothers, and me. I can’t tell you how much your patience and love has meant to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

A HUGE thank you to my team for tackling this bad boy. You guys never fail to amaze me, but seriously, wow. I really thought this would be the one to make you guys question my sanity. You astound and humble me, ladies. I don’t know what I would do without you.

Finally, my family for putting up with my shut-in, slightly psychotic behavior. I know I can get a bit scatterbrained, highly jumpy, and a whole lot weird when I’m writing, but you guys always take it with only slight shakes of your heads. You get me. You really get me and for that alone, I don’t deserve you. I really won the lottery with each of you and I love you so much.

Thank you, each of you, from the bottom of my heart.

Love always!

~Airicka

Magnus’s Defeat

Part I

Chapter 1

He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. Magnus squinted through the doors of hell and clicked his tongue. "Not entirely wrong, Nietzsche. But they started it."

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.

Chapter 2

Explain to me again what it is you’ll be doing.

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 waters.

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 car? 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 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 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. Human 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.

Chapter 3

It wasn’t called the veil world for nothing. Most of everything the humans were protected from were hidden behind an invisible force that restrained the demons on one side, the humans on the other, and veil creatures, creatures like Magnus, somewhere in the middle. Being in possession of a partial soul, it gave beings like him the freedom to walk the human plain, which also made them the perfect candidates to stand guard against the demonic forces.

Demons, void of any soul, were restricted behind the gates of hell, gates that were open once a night to allow a small few the luxury of terrorizing mortals for a single fortnight. That was what the angels had agreed upon after thousands from all sides had been slaughtered in a bloody war for eternal dominion on earth.

The angels had appointed Keepers, four houses from the four corners of the world to decide which demons to allow on earth and which to ban. Those demons who did not return after their fortnight were hunted by Casters, by Magnus and his brothers and the warriors of the other houses.

But like Final Judgment, like the other houses, and like the market, the Isle of Cree was one of those places hidden in plain sight. It sat separate from the mortal world by a thin, invisible shroud that kept the monsters from leaking across and humans from accidentally stumbling into their worst nightmares. But unlike the other hidden places, it existed nowhere and everywhere. It was real and not real at all. At least, no one could ever prove it, except Magnus.

It was the place he had lost the last shred of his humanity, his soul, his heart, his reason for living. It was where his sanity had abandoned him and the monster within had been born. It was the place where he had done things that haunted him to that day.

Stop.

For a moment, he couldn’t be sure if he had spoken the word out loud. But Reggie pulled the truck to a rolling stop in the middle of an abandoned road lined on one side by wilderness and one side by a rundown trailer park.

Magnus threw open his door and rolled out of his seat. His clothes tore away from the sweat soaking his body. The cold air helped, but it wasn’t enough to stop the madness clawing up his chest.

Mag? Reggie got out and peered across the roof of the car to where Magnus stood, panting like he’d run the entire way there. You okay?

In the pickup, Dante whimpered. The leather bench squeaked with his uncertain shifting.

I just... He turned his back and pretended to study the road ahead, all the while struggling to regulate his breathing. I just need to make sure we’re going in the right direction.

They were. With every mile they closed, the anxiety built in the pit of his stomach. It drowned the raging inferno in gasoline, igniting his terror and panic to heights he could no longer control. Every nerve ending in his body wanted to crumple right there in the middle of nowhere and let him die beneath the snow.

Hey. Reggie’s approaching footsteps were soft, cautious almost. What’s going on?

Magnus hastily wiped at the sweat soaking his brow, then shoved his trembling hands into his pockets. Nothing. He cleared his throat and turned back. We’re almost there.

Reggie continued to watch him, brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. Maybe we should—

Get in the car! Magnus snapped.

He threw himself back into the seat before his brother could push. The slamming of his door echoed in the straining silence. Dante whined and nudged the back of Magnus’s chair.

It’s all right. He reached back and stroked the hound’s flat head. It’ll be all right.

Dante didn’t believe him. He nudged Magnus’s palm earnestly with his wet snout.

Magnus ignored it as Reggie regained his seat.

Magnus—

Don’t. He combed five fingers back through his dark, shoulder length hair. Just drive.

They drove for hours in a tense silence that meant nothing to Magnus. He knew Reggie wanted answers, knew he probably owed him a few considering what they were about to walk into, but he could think of nothing to say. There was no simple way to explain the nightmare they were about to live.

He was about to relive.

Had lived.

Will live again and again until he died.

He squeezed his eyes closed tight and told himself to grow a pair. He needed to