A Touch of Brimstone (Magic of the Damned Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  You convinced me you’re a jackass. He was quickly next to me, urging me forward, not even giving the crowd of people the courtesy of looking back. Taking his lead was hard. Unable to hear footsteps over the music or see movement because of the low lights, I was alert. I’d had enough violence to last a lifetime.

  “I’m the mean one,” I teased in a whisper once we were down a hall and the door closed us off from the bar.

  “I have a feeling you can be quite brutal when necessary.”

  I was so brutal that a punch from me only evoked laughter from him. “Don’t you forget it,” I told him.

  “Don’t think I could.”

  After three abrupt knocks on the first door in the hallway, a gravely baritone invited us in. The office was sparse. A half-filled bookshelf in the corner, and a rug presumably intended to add a decorative flourish but that seemed to deliberately collect dirt. At one time it was probably a nice rug, cream, rust, and hunter green complementing the pine-green walls. One wall was covered with pictures of restored motorcycles. With the man seated at the desk proudly posed in front of them. Or maybe he was just some weirdo taking pictures in front of other people’s bikes.

  “Emmanuel.”

  “Dominic,” the man responded just as brusquely. He was of an indeterminate age, shorn dull mousy-colored hair highlighted with gray or silver. His square jaw gave his face a blockish look.

  The man kept his arms crossed over his chest, exposing large arms. Not defined but they could probably deliver a lot of power. Stern, watchful eyes paid close attention to me and Dominic.

  “I see you made it without incident,” he said, a hint of humor in his voice.

  Dominic shrugged. The tension in the room was pulled so taut, it was only a matter of time before it broke. Had I been in any room or met anyone who liked Dominic?

  “So this is Luna,” Emmanuel mused, taking his legs off the desk and standing. Just a few inches shorter than Dominic and with a broader build, but Dominic’s presence still overpowered the room.

  Emmanuel moved closer, regarding me carefully, his eyes traveling over every inch of me. My ring covered the markings, but his knowing look felt as though he could see beyond it.

  He reached out to touch me. Dominic grabbed his hand and pushed it away. “I never told you her name.”

  “Ah.” A flush fell over his parchment skin. “She’s sort of a celebrity,” he admitted.

  Dominic narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about her?”

  Emmanuel returned to his chair, plopping down in it and returning his feet to the desk. He linked his fingers behind his head. “You seem so hostile these days. Perhaps you need a partner.” I wasn’t sure if he was offering his services or subtly telling him he wanted to deal with someone else.

  “You know damn well that I have a partner.”

  Emmanuel’s brow hitched. “Do you? You’re not referring to Helena, are you? She’s not a partner so much as a rabid creature that should be put down.”

  Helena was no longer involved, but I guessed that wasn’t widely known. Probably the prospect of having to deal with her worked to Dominic’s advantage.

  “That’s your one and only time. Helena has nothing to do with this. As I said on the phone, I need to call in my favor. I need to borrow magic.”

  “For her?”

  Dominic’s head barely moved into the nod.

  Emmanuel looked at me thoughtfully, trying to suss out something. “I heard she’s responsible for releasing the prisoners from the Perils.” Although his question was directed to Dominic, he kept his eyes on me. I remained expressionless, trying not to give anything away.

  “I loan her the magic and that will satisfy my debt,” Emanuel confirmed.

  Dominic gave a slight nod.

  “Well, I think I need to clear out the place. Don’t want anyone interrupting us.” Emmanuel eased past me. I didn’t need to follow his movement to feel his gaze on me.

  Looking around the office, Dominic’s face remained indecipherable. Emanuel’s voice was faint on the other side of the doors.

  “Will this hurt?” I asked.

  “It shouldn’t.”

  “That wasn’t a definitive answer.”

  “Because I don’t have one. I’ve never borrowed magic before. I’ve seen magic taken from someone and they didn’t look to be in pain as it was done, just pissed off.”

  “Like your sister?”

  “I didn’t take her magic, it’s just restricted,” he corrected.

  It still pissed her off.

  Time ticked by. Dominic moved to the desk and grabbed a pen and piece of paper, scribbled something on it, and handed it to me along with the key fob.

  “If I tell you to leave, go to this address. The emergency exit is out this door and to the right, okay?”

  I nodded, taking the items. “Dominic, what’s wrong?”

  His eyes narrowed at the door. “Nothing yet.”

  I shoved the paper in my pocket, palmed the key fob, and continued to wait for Emmanuel. Ten more minutes passed then Dominic scrutinized the door and mouthed for me to go.

  I ran.

  Halfway to the exit I heard pounding feet and saw seven people flooding through the door, a silver-blue sphere of magic being released into Dominic’s chest. The woman in front stood in frozen disbelief when there was no effect. Swallowing a gasp, I hesitated for one moment before darting for the car. Hauling myself in, I started the car without adjusting the mirror and reversed, guilt and panic washing over me at the sight of newly arrived cars and more people spilling into the bar.

  Once on the main road, I could think more clearly and my internal debate persisted. Out of the rearview mirror, I glimpsed another car turning into the bar’s parking lot. I couldn’t leave him.

  Chuffing and huffing drew my attention, and I was startled to find Zareb had made himself visible.

  I cursed under my breath, one hand going to my chest. “Are you trying to kill me? How did you get in here?” Great, I’m talking to hellhounds now. But if he could travel from the Underworld, answering me wasn’t terribly unrealistic.

  Zareb’s response was a low rumble in his chest.

  “I can’t leave him,” I repeated aloud.

  The hound nudged my shoulder as if to tell me to keep going, but I swung the SUV around and headed back to the bar, parking it facing out so I could make a quick exit if necessary. In the trunk I found an emergency kit. I rummaged through it until I found three flares, and I snatched up the wrench. The only thing I could think to do was throw in the flares, hope they hit something flammable. If nothing else, it would be a distraction. If I had the Trapsen, I could notify Anand. Worst case, Helena.

  A bloodied body crashed through the door and landed, his right arm twisted in a manner that wasn’t anatomically possible without a break. A clawed creature stood over him. It had Dominic’s features, clothing, and body, but there wasn’t anything human about him. This wasn’t the refined, coolly subdued man that I reluctantly found sexy as hell. This was an animal. A beast of the Underworld. His eyes blazed like fire, his magic thrashed the air, and blood—I was sure other people’s blood—coated his clothing.

  Lips furled, he hissed at me. “Go!”

  My feet were planted, eyes wide, horror-stricken, when he used his claws to slash the man’s throat. The spurt of the man’s blood jolted me into action. I ran to the SUV. A hand grabbed my hair and tossed me to the ground. My hand held onto the wrench but the flares dropped. I made a half turn and smashed the wrench into the person’s wrist. They released me with a shriek of pain. I rolled to my feet and swiftly turned and delivered another hit to the head.

  Magic cracked into my back, sending me sprawling. Pain, awful pain, seared through me. Relief flooded me when I wiggled my feet and they moved. I scrambled back up and saw the magic thrower on the ground, fending off something I couldn’t see. Zareb.

  I ran for the car, opening the back passenger door.

  “Come on, Zareb!” I s
creamed. He waited until the attacker had stopped moving. The man was still breathing, but he hadn’t come out on the winning end. His shirt was shredded, blood trailed from bite marks, and he was curled in a protective ball, his hands covering his face.

  The hound brushed past my leg as he jumped into the car, making his body visible once in. I rushed to the driver’s side and we fled.

  There was no way I was going to where Dominic had instructed me. After I was far enough away that I couldn’t see the bar, I pulled over. Taking out my phone, I searched for hotels. I’d stay at one for a few days and figure the rest out later.

  Zareb’s warm breath, grunts, and chuffing made ignoring him hard.

  “Go home,” I told him. Hard, primal eyes leveled on me before his nose nudged my shoulder.

  “No,” I told him. “Go home,” I repeated.

  He pulled back his teeth, exposing razor-sharp teeth. My eyes slid to the wrench on the driver’s side. I didn’t want to hurt a dog, no matter how menacing he looked. And he really looked menacing. His powerful build, the amber glow of his eyes, and the ferocity of his stare made him look absolutely like a hound of the Underworld.

  “Are you going to eat me if I don’t do what Dominic said?” I asked in a half-hearted tease.

  He showed teeth again and nudged me harder. Apparently, I hadn’t moved fast enough, because his mouth covered my arm, his teeth exerting enough pressure to demonstrate how quickly and easily he could get to me and the damage he could cause.

  “Point made.”

  Taking out the paper, I put the address in the navigation and drove. Zareb settled back. In the rearview mirror, I saw the attentive eyes on me.

  “I’m going,” I ground out. I wasn’t going to get magic from Emmanuel, and I had no idea what the next step was.

  21

  The home leaned into the modern farmhouse design, unlike their apartment. The apartment was him. Sleek lines, modern décor, and a tad pretentious. This was homey, nice, and simplistic. A beige, oversized sofa that looked like a cloud. Blankets peeked out from a soft woven basket. A double fireplace separated the living room from the kitchen.

  The kitchen had simple white appliances, light wood cabinets, and a large island in the middle. Light hardwood floors and a round table completed the room. Large sliding doors looked out to acres of land. Whereas the other homes we’d passed had cattle and corn and soybeans, here there was just verdant grass. The scent of pine wafted throughout the house.

  The hellhound plopped in front of the door leading to the garage, where the car was parked. “I don’t plan on leaving,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  For an hour, I sat in the same place on the sofa, staring at my phone. I texted with Emoni, who was home; nothing about our interaction suggested she’d remembered anything from earlier. I was grateful for that, but knowing the reason still left the heavy weight of guilt.

  Dominic walked in with the same wrathfulness in his eyes. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be back.” His eyes moved away from me and he disappeared down the hall.

  Initially, I didn’t move. I just wanted to figure out the plan. But, restlessness getting the best of me, I started roaming, starting in the opposite direction Dominic had gone. Nothing was exceptional about the four-bedroom farmhouse. A small sitting area, a library with a few books on the shelves, a small office with an open laptop. The last door was where the house deviated from anything I’d seen. My breath caught at the sight of chains affixed to a rune-covered wall. Swords and blades hung on the opposite side of the room. In the corner was a massive cage.

  “Don’t make yourself at home there,” he said from behind me. “Close the door, Luna.”

  Startled, I turned to find Dominic wearing just a pair of sweatpants, all his ink on display, inching over his shoulder, the left side of his chest, and twining around his arm, ending at his wrist. The scent of his woodsy soap. Disheveled hair, misted skin, devoid of the savagery that I witnessed, although it lingered in his eyes, posture, and tense muscles. When I didn’t move to close the door, he did. His lips lifted into a lazy smile, which took a lot of effort.

  I still eased away from him. He didn’t have to worry about me making myself at home anywhere there was a room that clearly was designed for torture.

  His forehead creased. “What were you planning to do with the road flares?”

  “Save you?” I squared my shoulders and stood taller.

  Amusement curled his lips and lit his eyes. “How?”

  I shrugged. “I had flares and a wrench. There wasn’t time to coordinate a proper extraction rescue—so I had to keep the plan simple. I just knew something or someone was going to get hit or burned.”

  His lips twitched. He was fighting a laugh. “That doesn’t seem like a viable plan at all.”

  “Fire and metal? Did I really need an elaborate plan? Burn and hit. No one’s thinking I’m innocuous with those things at my disposal,” I shot back. And that wrench helped me. Definitely a confidence booster.

  “Ah,” was his only response. He licked his lips, his eyes aflame with a wicked delight. “There’s nothing innocuous about you, Luna.”

  His lips pressed against mine, hot and commanding. At my response, he pressed me against the wall, the kiss becoming increasingly voracious. Deft fingers slipped under my shirt, kneading my skin. A shiver coursed through my body when his nails grazed over my skin. Dominic’s body was heavy against mine, and my body heated at the awareness of him hardening against my leg.

  When he pulled back, I exhaled a breath and tried to focus on anything other than his hands that made me want more. More of his hands, more of his lips, and all the places I wanted to feel them. Prince of the Underworld, I reminded myself, but logic didn’t prevail with him standing there shirtless and in sweats that hung off the crest of his hips. Corded muscles, warm olive skin, intricate tattoos, and raw sexuality.

  I put some well-needed space between us. “You can just thank me,” I teased.

  He moved closer, devouring the distance. One hand rested on my waist. I could smell the scent of his soap on him, feel the heat of his body. It wasn’t me; his body was abnormally warm. In the cool room, it was welcome. Bending down until his mouth was inches from my lips, he whispered.

  “Thank you for your help, Little Luna. I wouldn’t have survived without you.” His lips were so close, the warmth of his breath tickled my lip.

  “You’re very welcome.” You’re not the only one who can sound insincere.

  He hadn’t moved, and I was acutely aware of everything about him. Him grinning at me urged me to put more distance between us. He seemed unsettled. Frenetic energy that he had difficulty controlling reverberated off him. Based on the way he was looking at me, I knew what he wanted to do to subdue it. His expression promised something sinfully delightful.

  I forced every off-putting image I had of him to the forefront, including the room I’d just seen. It wasn’t enough. We needed a distraction. We had one. This crapshow of a situation.

  “Is Emmanuel still an option for magic?”

  He shook his head. “He betrayed me, but they were the ones to kill him. I was able to retain one of the attackers and talk.”

  Translation: I kept one alive and forced him to speak.

  “And?”

  He looked grim. “Emmanuel had joined the Awakeners. When he was supposed to clear out the bar, he contacted them. They were to take you but were intercepted by the cadre from yesterday.”

  They had done this so long, everything they did was a PR spin.

  “They murdered the Awakeners,” I simplified. “Who are they?”

  “The new Conventicle. They seem to have grander plans than the current members. One being getting rid of me, taking over, and having a ‘comply or die’ rule for anyone who doesn’t abide by the laws of anonymity. They see the current Conventicle as weak. Me as unnecessary.”

  “So they plan to take over the Underworld?” I was incredulous.

  The current system was
n’t working but the new Conventicle was ruthless. Would they protect humans and how magic was used against them? Their success meant death for me. It was a hard place to be, wanting to protect humans and rooting for a regime change and rooting against them to save my life.

  “So, what’s next?” I asked.

  “You still need magic but it will have to be from a different source.”

  “Do you have someone in mind?”

  He nodded. “Madeline.”

  “Oh, so going the implausible route.”

  “She’ll require a great deal of coercion and diplomacy.”

  “I don’t think you’re using that word right.”

  His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Which word?”

  “Diplomacy. None of you all are using it right. Diplomacy is a delicate dance requiring negotiation and finesse. You all are all ‘do what I say or you die.’ That’s a threat, not diplomacy.”

  He shook his head. “Threats won’t be necessary. The Conventicle will need my help to ward off the coup. She either helps or I’ll let the new members take over and I’ll work something out with them.”

  The thrill of the challenge darkened his eyes. Either way, he was confident he’d end up on top. Whatever showed on my face caused him to cast his eyes down, and when he lifted them, they were softer, gentle, not flaming with desire for violence and subjugation.

  My eyes dropped from his to the markings on his body, finding the markings on his chest that were like the new ones on Helena. Without thinking how creepy and invasive it was, my fingers traced the intricate pattern.

  “This is why the witches’ magic doesn’t affect you?”

  He nodded.

  “Can I get one?” Although an admirer of body art, I’d never had the desire to get my own. But if this could keep me from being susceptible to the whims of the supernaturals, I’d do it.

  He shook his head. “You don’t have magic.”

  “That’s the problem. You all do. That puts us at a disadvantage. We can’t even protect ourselves from magic with something like this.” I hadn’t moved my hand from the tattoos. His muscles tensed under my touch.