“Are you ready to give up, maggot?” Norwell’s chest was puffed with importance as he towered over Mag in the middle of the dance floor, the fire at his skin replaced with a golden hue.
“You know you won’t be able to keep the club up for long.” Standing tall, in a lose posture, Mag squinted at him. “Before you know it, my brother Val will bring the entire Black Oak Order upon you. They took your sister down once. They’ll have you out in no time.”
They’d been going at it for a couple of minutes and Norwell was obviously enjoying the verbal confrontation in front of everyone.
Where the hell were his brothers? And Nyssa? Mag’s heart pounded as he assessed the situation.
The club’s customers had scattered away from the dance floor, not wanting to be caught in the fight. But many remained at the edge, drawn by the pull of witnessing some implausible battle. Electronic devices were out, recording every words.
Norwell’s daevas—Mag recognized six of them—were scattered among the crowd watching their boss ready to take on the immortal.
Finally, Mag let out an internal sigh of relief as he caught sight of Justin and Ren in the shadows within the crowd. There was no sign of Emme.
Sandrine was at the back behind the bar with his bartender Jackson and had gathered a handful of humans with them. She had a loaded shotgun on the counter.
Evan and Louka were trying to convince the patrons to leave. But they wouldn’t budge, unable to tear their eyes and cellphones off the impending fight.
“I don’t care about some human realm warlocks.” He wetted his lips as he preened before the crowd. “I have my own army.”
“A few daevas?” Mag eyed one of them with a small curl of his lip and sneered at the prince. “That’s who defends you? They better look out.”
In one discrete move, Ren had padded behind one of Norwell’s minion and slit its throat in a single cut of a small blade. The daeva silently slumped to the floor. Its grayish dusty blood splattered to the nearby people who shrieked with terror.
Justin had seized another by the throat and methodically crushed his windpipe as panic ran through the crowd like wildfire. This was no longer fascinating.
More screams erupted. People pushed on one another trying to get out, which, Mag realized, may have been Ren and Justin’s plan all along.
“Hey, don’t leave,” Norwell shouted at them, his eyes darting left and right in a momentary panic. “We’re just getting started.”
But people were bolting for the front door, others rushing to the fire exit.
“Stop.” Norwell’s sudden booming command brought a chill to the whole room. He was no longer pleading, his tone shaking the flagstone flooring outside the dance area. “You will stay.”
His arms rose to his side ominously and dark gray shadows twirled around him, obscuring his body for a moment.
A shock of terror fell over the entire club, freezing everyone in place. The shadows formed into, not the daevas Mag had expected, but a gaggle of living corpses. Emaciated, rotten flesh hung from protruding bones as they slowly rose and stretched their misshapen limbs from the ground.
Oh fuck, ghouls. How on earth had Norwell managed to raise ghouls?
“Justin,” Mag roared, seeing his brother closest to the fire exit. “Get them all out. Now!”
Everyone moved and screamed at once. His staff tried to control the crowd as best they could. Jackson lifted a disabled veteran over the bar and Evan shielded two young women in his arms.
“Looks like they don’t like your new management.” Mag’s tone was flippant but inside he was horrified.
The ghouls were fully raised and ready, forming a half-circle guard around Norwell and waiting for his command.
“Oh, by Ell’zoth.” With surprising speed, Norwell dug into the departing crowd and came back with a tiny young woman, her eyes bulging wide with terror under a pair of horned-rimmed glasses.
Adrenaline raced through Mag’s veins as rage pounded inside him. He narrowed the distance between them and fumed. “Let her go.”
“I want you out, maggot.” Norwell preened, holding his hostage by the top of her arm. “You and your brothers and all the vampires. Leave. I’ll keep that human waitress.”
Mag heard Sandrine pump the shotgun in response.
“Nobody moves.” The prince pulled hard on the small girl, seizing her by the throat with one hand. “Or I kill her.”
Panic finally caught up with Mag as he stared at his frightened patrons. Even the buffest of them was frozen in place.
Sacrament. He needed his mom alive and calling out to Merritt right now. And where were Nyssa and Emme? Mag searched the crowd for them and found nothing.
“Shut those doors,” the prince ordered.
The club was dead quiet now. Many were hiding under tables or were huddled flat against the walls. Evan was still with the girls. Jackson was slowly lowering down the young veteran in his wheelchair behind the bar.
Mag saw Sandrine’s gun move and shook his head to stop her. Bullets would not stop the prince and his ghouls. Especially as he was clinging to his hostage like a child with a prized toy.
Mag was just a few feet away from his foe. Close enough to snatch the girl safely away at the right moment.
With a measured exhale, he leaned back on his heels and slowly crossed his arms at his chest. “Do you always hide behind women, Norwell? Is that how you succeed in life?”
Mag glanced briefly at his brothers, his mouth in a grim twist. It looked like their plan had failed. Princess Merritt was not coming. Now it was all about getting everyone out alive.
“Don’t come any closer, St-Amand.” Norwell drew the girl into his chest. “I will kill her.”
“What kind of host will you be if you start killing your patrons?” Mag a strode one foot closer. “Don’t you want to run the nightlife here?”
He was keenly aware of the hostage. Sammi, she was called. He remembered now. She came sometimes with her group of girlfriends who loved to flirt with him. This one always stayed in the background, though. A little shy.
“It will be okay, Sammi,” Mag said. “I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
The girl just cried harder and clutched the strap of her crossbody purse tighter.
He quickly glanced sideways again at Ren and Justin. His right hand slid along his Ice Witch mark and he knew his brothers noticed the gesture. Neither of them had been fool enough to renege on their mother’s magic and recognized Mag meant to start the attack with a coordinated spell. It had been centuries since they had done anything like it. But together, their immortal blood was linked through their mother’s legacy and they would prevail., They had to.
He was so close now, he could smell Sammi’s fear and the prince’s otherworldly essence.
Together, the St-Amands would defeat the bastard.
“Koir idash...” He snapped his neck backward to direct the spell at the ceiling.
“Koir idash! ” his brothers both repeated after him.
The humans screamed and rushed in one big mob to the exits.
The ceiling above the dance floor became covered with a multi-layered sheet of pure blue frost. Thunder rolled followed by the crackling of ice. The ceiling trembled and giant icicles descended in menacing spears towards the daevas and ghouls, who scattered, some impaled by the falling frozen spikes.
“Colebex yth!” Ren called out and a lightning bolt erupted from the ice to strike one of the ghoul dead. The others dived for cover and glanced at their leader for command.
“Oh, damn this!” the prince shoved Sammi out of the way and jumped straight at Mag.
Oh shit. The bulk of Norwell’s body hit Mag like a mass of bricks and they both rolled to the ground.
His fangs and claws dug into the unearthly flesh while lightning ice sparks crackled all around them at Ren and Justin’s commands.
Norwell managed to seize his wrist, the wide palm slammed against Mag’s Ice Witch marks, and the brothers’ link severed. Mag could no longer control its magical energy.
A heavy crack suddenly shook the entire club, sending bottles and light fixtures crashing to the flagstone floor. Sleet pounded every surface as an arctic wind blew hard across the club.
Norwell now had his hands around Mag’s neck as he tried to pry him off. Mag dug his fangs deeper, not willing to give an inch. The daeva’s blood tasted foul under his tongue, but dammit, he would drink him empty if he had to.
Norwell released him for a mere second then slammed his palms hard at each side of his skull.
Mag howled at the instant agony that swelled over him.
The pain was soon replaced by vision of pure horror as if he’d been dropped into a pool of viscous crawling insects.
They were everywhere around and inside him, maggots worming their way across his eyelids, long centipedes inching feathery appendages under his clothes, small gnats burrowing in his nostrils. A buzz of flies hummed in a persistent ring of doom in his ears.
Gagging with disgust, he was fighting a raising panic when a giant velvety spider skidded across his chest. His eyes suddenly opened to the vision of a corpse sitting alone at a bench.
The bugs scattered away as he looked stunned at the gloomy sight. It was him he was looking at, himself as a living corpse. In the Serpent.
His club was a decrepit mausoleum, the dance floor coated with a thick and dry sheen of spiderwebs, the derelict bar crumbled under layers of dust. The fractured mirror was reflecting the poor soul crouched under the weight of centuries who sat at the faded booth. It was himself.
Undying and alone.
All alone. Just as he had always feared.
Despair descended down and along his throat. Why build this life when he only remained in the end?
They would all die. Just like Papa, just like Justin’s wife and everyone else he knew. One after another. And here he would be, left behind to exist.
As the world died around him.
The hint of a fresh, elegant scent suddenly crossed his memories. He recalled a silky strand across his cheek. A tender touch on his skin.
As if Nyssa was calling him from the beyond.
His fists tensed with sudden protest. He was not alone. No!
He had her.
In the depth of the nightmare created by Norwell, he was hit with the realization that, for the first time since his father’s death, he had hope.
Hope for a future.
He was not this immortal desiccated living corpse creaking over his drink in his long-forgotten bar. He had someone!
Someone he loved. A life worth fighting for.
A rush of euphoria swelled in his soul and returned him to the present.
His muscles tensed with a surge of energy, embolden by the frosty gusts blowing over his skin.
He slammed one heavy fist under the prince’s chin and felt him relent. He released his throat, spat the blood out, and bit him once more. The prince flailed as Mag drained him further before letting go again. Straddling his foe’s waist and ignoring the ice crystals pelting them down, he seized his head and banged it hard on the stone.
He had him, the bastard was close to being bled dry.
Mag had no time to savor his victory or ponder whether a daeva royalty could actually be drained when a bright flash of light blinded him.
“What is the meaning of this, Norwie?” The clear but commanding voice erupted above them.
Norwell froze under Mag’s grip.
Mag lifted the prince again, ready to slam his head down. A blast of searing hot energy hit him in the center of his back. Pain radiated through his entire spine and he dropped the prince.
“You, fiend. Leave my brother alone.”
Brother? Mag frowned with confusion.
“This is my son, Princess.” The confident voice Mag knew so well echoed in the air.
Mom?
“Daúscayrl,” his mother said, and the storm dissipated.
“You can let go of him, Mag.” Nyssa lightly touched his shoulder. “Princess Merritt is here.”
His heart soared. Nyssa had succeeded in summoning the royal. His own ice queen, the one he was so worried about protecting, had done it! He was flooded with a flurry of emotions as she urged him to his feet.
He finally got off Norwell and stood to slide an arm around her waist with incredible relief.
The prince was on his back, his blood everywhere on the floor. Bewildered, he stared at his royal sister. “Mer?”
Princess Merritt advanced in a shimmering pool of glittery white silk and a hush of reverence scattered across the crowd. No one could look at her and not be awed, even Ren and Justin looked impressed.
Everyone, except their mom. The lace of her velvet dress was torn, her dark hair in disarray, but she resonated with a power that seemed older than the world itself.
“He really shouldn’t be on this plane, Princess,” Mag’s mother was saying, the censure audible in her tone. “You need to take him home.”
“Norwie, my dumb little brother.” The princess extended a pearly-gloved hand to the fallen prince who blinked through a puffed-up eye. “What were you thinking, coming here like this?”
“I tried, Mer. I really did.” Lips pouting, Norwell gathered himself up and stared around at all the patrons. “I gave them what they really wanted. The drinks, the drugs. Forbidden sex with little humans.”
“I had a chat with these two ladies here,” the princess explained. “They tell me you want to take over this club. Expand in the city. Why?”
“Look at this place.” Norwell circled in place to emphasize their surroundings. “It’s packed. They keep coming. I asked around. They love him.”
The princess sighed with a fond look over her brother, then her gaze narrowed onto Mag. “You almost killed him.”
Mag stood tall and glowered back at her, his grip firm around Nyssa’s waist. “He has no right to be here, Princess. He’s been kidnapping and trafficking children. He was ready to harm my patrons.”
And the bastard had dared capture the woman he loved. His blood still boiled with fury.
“I see.” Merritt ambled a few steps across the dance floor, her forehead lined in thought, her long gauzy dress flowing gracefully behind her. She stopped and surveyed the club. “This is nice. Once it’s cleaned up. It almost makes me want to take over.”
“What?” Mag’s heart seized as Nyssa let out a small yelp of surprise.
“That would be foolish, Merritt,” Mag’s mom warned. “Not only would you have Malcolm Dunsmuir and his daemon army after you, but I also only have to say the word and my sons’ father would return from the underworld.”
“Father?” She paused eying his mother.
“Ambrus the Exiled. Or as you know him, the Banished Death.”
“The Banished Death.” The princess brought a slow hand to her mouth, a disturbed shudder carrying all the way to her delicate brows. ”Their father…”
“Mom?” Mag asked with disbelief.
Justin shook his head, equally puzzled while Ren shot his mother a blank look.
“You’re right, Ice Witch. We need to leave,” the princess relented. She took her brother’s hand. “Come on Norwie, you’ve annoyed these people long enough.”
“But Merritt,” he whined, his tough persona faltering. “I was just beginning my empire—”
“Be quiet!” She had gone from understanding big sister to ruler in a half second flat.
Despite his height and size, Norwell cowered under her gaze, like a toddler caught doing something wrong.
“I do apologize for my brother’s interference. I am now taking him home. Is there anything I can do…?” She casually waved her arm around. “To lessen the damage he caused.”
“Actually, there is.” Mag drew Nyssa closer to his chest. “What do you know about immortality?”