19. Max

19

MAX

T he sea of people parted, revealing a man—bald, white, and dressed in heavy velvet robes like he was cosplaying for some wizard convention.

I recognized him immediately.

He'd been there that night, at Headquarters. He was the council member who'd teleported away, right before I'd burned everything to the ground.

The one who'd infused his veins with shadow magic he'd stolen from the demons The Guild held captive, from the stone.

"Much preferred the other site. Simpler, more…pragmatic." He scrunched his nose, scanning the walls with distaste, an artist unimpressed with the current exhibit. "But I suppose it has served its purpose after you turned the other branch to ash." HIs brow arched. "Impressive display, if a bit excessive."

My fingers tingled, flooding with a desire to pull my fire up as a shield between us and them.

I scanned the people quickly, trying to assess who they were. A few of them looked vaguely familiar, like I'd seen them in passing while living at The Guild, but I couldn't recall any names. Most I was certain I'd never laid eyes on before .

A woman walked forward, the angles of her pale face severe and shadowed. She moved slowly, but with a grace that I could never muster, until she was shoulder-to-shoulder with the man.

Her robes looked more modern than his. They'd clearly been tailored to fit her like a glove. But it was the insignia at her collar that had my pulse thumping quickly.

Another council member. We were standing before two of them.

"This is Elizabeth," he said, arching a brow that was all muscle and no hair, "one of my colleagues."

She made no response to the acknowledgment. Like him, there was something off about her. There was no sheen of shadow magic glimmering in her eyes, but there was something unmistakably wrong—like her skin was an ill-fitting costume over a magic that had contorted her from within. It no longer fit quite the same as it perhaps once did.

To a human, or even a protector, she probably looked no different than she had before the magic. Dark hair was pinned in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and makeup was impeccably applied to highlight and add color to her features.

It was the shadow magic. It clawed and licked against my skin, until the hair on my arms stood at end. The tune in the air was sharp and out of key, the static electricity of the atmosphere pricked and fizzled along my body.

"And my name is Jarrod." He took a step closer and Darius shifted forward until his arm pressed against mine. "It's time we were properly introduced. I've been waiting to speak with you."

I made no response, not offering him anything.

I could get Ro and Darius out of here—a thing I reminded myself of on a careful, constant loop. I wasn't certain that I could take on two council members. We didn't know the extent of their power, or whether mine matched theirs in strength or ability .

I knew that between me and Darius, we could handle the rest in the room. And Ro wasn't a slouch either.

But they were all clearly armed, and we were cornered into a tiny hole in the wall. Every advantage was theirs.

Except for the fact that we could run. Back through the tunnel, back to Haley. I could teleport, get us out of here.

If it came to that.

Until it did, we needed to use this moment for what it was—an opportunity.

Jarrod was clearly full of himself. The smug lines of his face made it clear that he thought he was in control, that he had something to offer.

And he had the one thing I was after—information.

It wouldn't be impossible to use his arrogance, his flare for the dramatic to our benefit.

I stepped down from the portrait ledge and walked into the room, ignoring Ro and Darius's blistering glares behind me as they moved to stand on either side. Tension radiated from them both—somehow stifling and comforting me in equal measure.

I nodded to the stiff protectors in the room, noting the collection of blades, dart guns—and even a few regular guns—clutched in their hands, many of which were pointed in our direction. "This the reception committee you typically reserve for conversations?"

Jarrod's lips thinned into a smirk, one that didn't quite work with the musculature of his face. Forced. Brittle.

He was trying to keep things contained, but he wasn't very good at it. Eagerness lined every twitch of his thin fingers.

"I don't often hold meetings with people who have the power to burn down the room I'm standing in with one snap of their fingers." That slimy grin quivered slightly, like it was fighting to hold the unfamiliar stretch. "And I've been told that you and your—" he nodded towards Darius and then Ro, "friends—have slaughtered many innocent protectors just moments ago, under this very roof. I'd say that warrants a bit of a protective detail, wouldn't you?"

Ro straightened. "We didn't initiate that fight."

"Perhaps not." Jarrod's eyes narrowed briefly, then he turned to his guard, hands raised. "But in the spirit of goodwill, so long as Miss Bentley agrees not to use her powers, we can all put our weapons down. I believe that we can all stand to benefit from a brief conversation. A temporary truce that will perhaps last an eternity, if you like what I have to say."

Elizabeth hadn't shifted an inch, her eyes, unblinking, drove through me like a laser—sharp, but like she was looking beyond me.

The others, after a few cursory glances and grunts, lowered their weapons to their sides.

It was a meaningless gesture, as we all knew. It would take half a breath for them to be back and pointing at us, but I was faster than they were. And so was Darius.

We'd get ourselves and Ro out of here if needed.

"You see, Miss Bentley," Jarrod spread his arms, pausing, "is it okay to call you that? I know of course that you aren't truly Cyrus's child." Cy's name on his lips landed like a barbed arrow in my chest. "I'm very sorry for your loss by the way. Tarren has always been rather—over-eager and careless when emotions are high. But from what I understand, you've taken your revenge." I swallowed the pain, a scorching metal knot in my throat; did my best to ignore the current of rage washing over me. He let out a breathy laugh, his hands coming together. "No worries girl, we hold no bad blood where that is concerned. A life for a life, no one could fault you for that. But past events aside, I've been waiting for you to reach out again. You've been rather difficult to track down, you see. But I believe we can help each other."

Still, I said nothing.

His right eye twitched and I could tell he was growing frustrated with my stubbornness and doing his best to hide it. "As you've no doubt deduced, we've been experimenting with magic."

"Stealing it, you mean," Darius bit out.

"Our connection to this magic goes back millennia." Jarrod's jaw clenched. "We are just attempting to harness and control it so that we might protect the world from what's to come. We will need power to survive it, order." With a quick, frantic movement, he pulled up Elizabeth's shirt sleeve, revealing dark, angry-looking bruises bubbling under her skin from her veins, like an ink spill, the spread slow and webbed. Then, with a small cringe, he revealed the same under his own cloak. "But you see, we aren't exactly perfectly equipped as hosts. At least not yet." He sighed, dramatic and low, as if this was a performance that he'd practiced several days in front of the mirror. "Two of ours have died and while the rest of us have survived the transfusions, we haven't metabolized as successfully as we'd hoped. But you," he shifted his chin up, eyes meeting mine dramatically, as his band of protectors hung on every word of his sermon, "you, I believe, are the key to our success. To everything. To saving humanity and protectors alike. A conduit, it seems, perfectly made for this magic to flow through. Aren't you, girl?"

Darius grunted. "Magic isn't something to control and shape into your liking. How have you not learned that yet? What's happening right now?" He shook his head, frustration and disdain mapped out on his eyes. "It's because protectors have warped this power. Time has stripped your people of it because you did not respect it as you should have. Your greed has made the magic hungry, chaotic, violent."

On the surface, what Jarrod was spouting sounded almost in line with what Lucifer had told me. But I knew enough of this Guild council's greed to not believe benevolence was their goal. No matter how they framed it .

"I can't speak for the past." Jarrod's nostrils flared slightly, but he otherwise made no sign that he'd heard Darius, his dark eyes not moving from mine as he continued. "You see, with your power, we can seal off hell for good," he continued, oblivious to the tension lining every muscle in my body, "destroy it and everything within it, even. If you let us wield your power, link your power with ours, we can accomplish the original goal of our ancestors. Rid the world of demons forever. Save this world and all the people in it. For good. Protectors would be free—to live and exist in harmony with humanity. No more forced bonds. No more fighting. Just peace. We want the same thing, Miss Bentley. A life worth living, one unencumbered by evil or the duty to destroy it."

My jaw was stiff with how tightly my teeth were grinding together. But I couldn't hold back my disgust. "You mean that you want to use me to kill everyone in hell? They're people, not things. No less worthy than anyone in this realm."

"You know little about what exists in the depths of hell, Miss Bentley. Of what even the creatures who live there have tried to keep locked, buried." He steepled his fingers and brought them to his lips, nodding and eyes shut, the gesture performative and dramatic. "Nevertheless, you have compassion, empathy. Again, I can't fault you for that, however misguided it may be. I was warned that your sympathies have," his gaze landed briefly on Darius before meeting mine again, "expanded. Matters are serious enough that we are willing to work with you, to put these differences of ours aside. They are small, in the grand scheme of things. We've been diligently working on a compromise these last months. And my researchers believe we've found a way, perhaps, to simply close the realms. Forever. It's more complicated, and will put you more at risk. It will require all of your power—and ours. You must bond yourself to us—fortify the line of anchors for centuries to come." He held his arms wide in front of himself, an invisible offering. "And, in the spirit of laying it all out there, even then, I can't promise it will work."

"Bond?" Darius's voice was a low rumble, one that I felt reverberate through my chest with menace. "Over my dead body. And yours."

"Your friends may stay in this realm of course," Jarrod continued, oblivious to Darius's brewing, dangerous rage, "as a thank you for your part in this mission. But it is possible that we've found a way for the hell realm to go on existing, eternally severed from ours. Perhaps everyone can win, Miss Bentley, don't you see? A world without demons plaguing our kind—it's the protector dream manifesting before our very eyes. How very lucky you are, to be the one to grant it."

"You want us to damn everyone who's been shoved into that prison your people created, you mean?" Darius's tone was light, casual to the unpracticed observer, but I could feel the disgust lacing every syllable. When I glanced at him, I saw the familiar restraint buckling and bending as he tried to contain it. Darius had been so on edge, so close to snapping these last few weeks. And now, I could see him tap dancing erratically on the last millimeters of that cliff. "So that you can maintain your position unchallenged as the most powerful creatures in this world. Curious, it's the council specifically who needs to bond with her." He shook his head then turned to me. "He's lying, Max. That's not how the magic between realms works. It's powered by balance, feeding from both sides. Hell cannot exist if that connection is forever severed. He can't possibly know otherwise."

"Protectors are demons," Ro added, his voice unwavering, "just weaker. This has always been about protectors wanting more power. Even if you could manage it, Darius is right. You just want to secure a future in which you remain at the top of the food chain. And this time," he nodded to me, "you want to use her power to amplify and fortify your own. You're too weak for it without her. The magic you siphoned is clearly destroying—" he grunted, disgusted, " rejecting —you. You're insufficient hosts. Unworthy."

Jarrod's facade of ease and magnanimity slipped instantly from his expression. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed and heated, as he lowered his arms, clenching his hands into fists at his side. I could tell he was resisting the urge to reach for this blade, which I took as a good sign. It meant that he was more comfortable using that in a fight than he was his magic. That bode well for us.

Several of the protectors who'd been quiet and obedient so far, lifted their weapons, preparing for the moment this farce of a truce broke into the inevitable war it was always going to be.

"Curious," he said, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyes darted between the three of us, "that the people who are supposed to care for this girl above all else are so quick to hold onto their own prejudice," He grinned, dark and malicious, "and condemn her to an early grave in the process."

I froze, my lungs emptying.

Please no.

Not here.

Not right now.

Not like this.

Ro shifted his weight. "What?"

"Enough," I choked out as soon as I could find the barest sliver of my voice. "This isn't—" I shook my head. "The stone. Where are you keeping the stone?"

This was the only piece of information worth ripping from the man before me. Everything else was lies and propaganda. He didn't care for the survival of this world or humanity, only his own.

A cold, harsh bark of a laugh ripped from his lips as he focused on Darius, on Ro—ignoring me entirely for once.

"So she hasn't told you?" He tilted his head, meeting my eyes again. "Or perhaps you don't even know yourself." He read the truth, which I knew was now etched clear as glass on my face, no matter how hard I tried to disguise it. "No, the former. Well," he clapped his hands together in glee, the crash of the sound echoing through the room, "perhaps this will help persuade your companions to my side. You see," he took a step closer to Ro, identifying him as the safer target apparently, "the ritual your sister is planning requires several things—most expensive among them, her life."

Turn around.

Grab them both, teleport the fuck out of here.

Now.

But, for some reason, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Black dots swam in my vision, blurring the scene before me, until it felt like I was watching the realization unfold from above—outside of my body, a passive observer no different than the army of protectors lining the room. My fingers battled between tingling and numbness, and I couldn't convince my muscles to move.

Do something. Do fucking anything , Max. Come on.

All I could do was stand there, watch this scene play out with Jarrod in complete control.

"You didn't really think any one person could survive it, did you?" Jarrod's tone was taunting now, and I could feel the conflict burrowing through Ro on my right, the struggle not to believe the words this asshat of a man was uttering. "No one person could survive pulling that much power through herself—the very power used to create and stabilize the realms for centuries? Come now, boy—" he shook his head, made an infantilizing tsking noise as he moved closer, "I'm certain Cyrus raised you to be smarter than that."

"It's not true." Ro's body was coiled, every muscle begging to spring into action and attack this man. But he reigned it in and turned to me. "Max, tell him. "

Darius was silent, an impossible stillness and blankness that terrified me more than any of the people in this room could.

A hot tear spilled down my cheek, anger I couldn't swallow back—but also guilt. I fought to take a breath, but my lungs refused to work.

"No." Ro took a step back like I'd slapped him.

I felt something shift in the room, something dangerous and all-consuming.

It called to me, both familiar and not.

But it wasn't coming from Jarrod, or Elizabeth, or the anxious hum of protectors who were not-so-discreetly lifting their weapons and preparing to attack at the drop of a hat.

It was Darius.

His eyes were daggers, unfamiliar and unseeing as I tried to make contact.

His breathing was labored, like he was fighting some heavy battle I couldn't see. The veins along his forearms were defined and bulging, the grip of his fists so tight that blood was streaming through his fingers and pooling onto the floor.

"What are you doing to him?" I turned to Jarrod, then back to my vampire, scanning for the signs of a wound—just, something. But he was untouched.

Elizabeth's focus shifted to Darius, looking for the first time since I laid eyes on her like she wasn't utterly bored.

"I—" Jarrod looked confused, then took a step back, shaking his head.

He hadn't done anything.

The confused stares pulsing with concern and apprehension from the other protectors suggested it wasn't any of them either.

Fuck.

My fear for Darius helped break through my paralysis.

I reached through my bond, desperately trying to feel Darius, to communicate, to see what was going on, but it was clogged. Blocked. I mentally screamed to him, but my voice withered into nothing, swallowed by a void.

I reached for his arm, tentative and slow. "Dariu?—"

He erupted in flames—hot and angry. They spread through the room, taking out the protectors on his side of the room in a single breath.

Jarrod's eyes widened, his face somehow growing even paler as he backed away from us. With a quick glance in my direction, he muttered a hurried "until we meet again, Miss Bentley," before he teleported from the room, leaving the others to fend for themselves.

The dozen or so protectors who'd survived the first wave scrambled and clamored over each other as fire spread through the room. Everything caught, until the entire suite was engulfed.

Screams echoed through the room, a harmony from hell.

"Go!" I shoved Ro back through the tunnel as heat licked at my face.

Stubborn as always, he resisted. "I'm not leaving you."

"This is my power. I'm immune to it," I gritted out, as heat flared along my back, both a caress and scorch. Smoke curled through the air and the crackle of flames was punctuated by the loud coughing coming from those still alive, their voices no longer capable of screaming. "You're not. Go back to Haley."

"No. Max?—"

I knew that stubborn set of his jaw, that particular angle of his eyes.

Ro, please. Just this once. Just go.

"I'll come to you. As soon as—" I glanced at Darius. Pure, unadulterated rage emanated from every last inch of him, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Truthfully, even if I could protect Ro from the fire, something told me he wasn't safe from the man standing next to me. None of us were. "Please go. Please just go."

Ro hesitated another moment, his mouth tight as he witnessed the destruction behind me—destruction I was trying like hell not to look back at right now. With a frustrated groan, his eyes met mine. "Five minutes, Max. That's all you have before I come back."

And then he left.

Satisfied, I exhaled, choking on smoke when I took another breath.

Once I was certain Ro was far enough back, that he was safe from Darius's inferno, I turned around.

Every last protector was gone, nothing more than bones and ash on a floor that was disintegrating and collapsing to the room below us.

Still, the fire only blazed harder, catching through the suite, to whatever lay beyond that, leaving destruction and pain in its wake.

Elizabeth was the only one still standing.

Rather than run, she simply watched me, expression vacant.

Without uttering a word, she walked into the fresh wave of hellfire ripping from Darius—silent and stoic until the last beat of her heart.

And then we were alone.

Why didn't she go after Jarrod? Why didn't she teleport?

"Darius," I yelled, trying to reach him through the chaos.

My foot caught on a crack in the floor that opened into a huge hole. I heaved myself up before I fell through completely.

"Darius," I tried again.

He either didn't hear me or didn't want to respond.

Fire snaked through the tunnel now, the walls crumbling with a fresh blast of flames .

I tried to call it back, to pull the fire from him like we'd practiced so many times, but I couldn't.

He'd cut me off. I had no idea how, but I couldn't reach him.

A loud crash sounded on the other side of the wall and screams pierced through the hall.

We needed to get out of here. Now.

Jumping over a particularly gnarly wall of flames, I reached him.

When I grabbed his face between my hands, his eyes finally met mine. But they were cold and hard, the usual warmth nowhere to be seen.

But he didn't hurt me. Didn't attack.

That was something.

"It's okay," I whispered, temporarily lost in his dark stare. "It's okay. Breathe. You're safe. I'm safe. We need to leave this place."

He didn't respond, but he wasn't pulling up fresh waves of fire either.

"Darius, come back to me."

Something flickered in his stare, but I still couldn't quite reach him.

"We need to get out of here." Not bothering to explain my plan, I held onto him and teleported to the room where we'd left Haley.

Ro had her cradled in his arms, his eyes hard when they met mine.

Without a word, I grabbed his arm and shifted us outside.

Protectors swarmed the grounds. The wing we'd been in was completely swallowed by a fire that only seemed to be gaining momentum. The top floors had collapsed, leaving nothing but rubble.

I took in the sight for one breath before I shifted us again, pausing no more than a second between each jump until my feet finally planted on the familiar rocky shore of the lake .

Ro dropped Haley and fell to his knees as he spilled the contents of his stomach on the ground.

Even I felt a little queasy, my strength completely drained. I'd never pushed the limit quite that far before without breaking for at least a few minutes between the longer jumps.

Haley was still out from the poison, but her fingers twitched like she was slowly regaining feeling and control.

"You're back!" A voice called behind us.

I spun around, still struggling to catch my breath, for my brain and body to catch up to what had just happened.

Charlie came running, a warm smile tugging her lips, though it slowly melted, her expression etching with lines of concern as her eyes shifted beyond me.

Darius.

When I turned to find him, he'd moved at lightning speed.

He pinned Charlie to a thick tree and sank his teeth deep into the side of her neck. No preamble, no warning.

Her scream reverberated through the woods, slicing through me like a blade.

"No." My stomach dropped.

No.

No, no, no.

I ran to them and used all of my remaining strength to pull him off of her, trying like hell not to let his teeth tear her up too badly in the process.

I succeeded, eventually, but it was one of those moments that felt like a lifetime.

Blood coated her shirt and neck, but it didn't appear like he'd hit an artery.

One small fucking win, at least.

Ro was at her side almost as quickly as I was and caught her as she started to fall.

She was pregnant. And part protector. I had no fucking clue what his bite would do to her. Or her unborn child .

Darius had moved back. He was twenty feet or so away from us now, pounding his fists into a large boulder that stood in the middle of the shallow part of the lakeshore.

"Darius—" I stepped towards him, then looked back at the mess of gore staining Charlie's shirt, stuck between helping her and stopping him. I froze for a moment, trying to decide where I was of the most use.

"I have her. She's alive," Ro said, shooing me forward. "Go. Stop him. Before he attacks her or someone else again."

I nodded, unable to find words, as I ran towards Darius.

Water bit at my ankles and calves but I hardly noticed it as I reached him.

"Darius—"

He punched his fist into the boulder again. His bones cracked as bits of stone and dirt rained down into the lake, chipped and pulverized.

Blood was everywhere—his and Charlie's.

"Darius stop!"

He didn't.

He wouldn't look at me.

He was punishing himself, trying to keep from hurting anyone—fighting whatever spell or magic had control of him right now.

There'd been moments, since I met him, when I watched him sink into himself. I knew he fought darker impulses. Knew from his brother Claude, that his role as a portal guardian—and the subsequent abandonment of his post—had infected him with shadow magic. The power was hungry and alive, requiring a balance that Darius constantly resisted, warped and dangerous as it was.

I'd never seen it get this much of a hold over him though. Not even close.

I stepped between Darius and the rock, preparing to fend off any sudden attacks if I had to .

But he froze, blinking. Fear shone like a beacon from his stare, gutting me with the war of guilt and bloodlust that tore through him.

"She's okay. She'll be okay. You didn't mean it. I know you didn't mean it. Breathe, Darius. Breathe."

His eyes met mine again, brief and piercing, and I could see a world of emotions reflected back at me.

One was strong, clear as day. Betrayal.

I'd lied to him. Had been planning to see this war to my grave for months. And now he knew it.

He shook his head, took a few steps back, until the water licked at his waist. Blood-coated fingers threaded through his platinum locks and he tugged, letting out a bellowing scream that sang equal parts rage and pain.

He tore at his scalp, the back of his neck, his arms, his shoulders, lines of red etched in every bit of skin he touched, painting his misery across the smooth expanse of his skin.

"No, Darius—" I waded over to him and grabbed him in my arms as he shook and thrashed and resisted.

For a fraction of a second, something rippled through him and he stilled briefly.

I thought, for a moment that he was breaking through, that he was fighting his darker impulses back.

Just as a wave of relief flooded my belly, his teeth pierced the flesh at the base of my neck.

I stiffened for a moment, shocked. Then I tried like hell to shove him away, but his grip was a vice, pulling me closer, tighter against him.

He'd fed from me many times, but he'd never pulled so much, so deeply—so violently.

Blood streamed down my shirt, raining droplets over the lake surrounding us.

I clawed my fingers into his back, caught between stopping him and letting him take his fill. Maybe he needed to feed, maybe that would help whatever—this—was?

"Darius," I whispered against his chest, where only scraps of his shirt remained. I tasted salt and iron on his skin.

My vision blurred, blotting out at the edges as I fought for control, for consciousness.

Darius

I felt the bond, the link between us, reached and grabbed for it like the lifeline I knew it to be—but it was difficult, as tenuous as threading rope through an impossibly small needle.

He stiffened, his hand snaking down the side of my body, stopping at my thigh.

With a gasp, he ripped his teeth from my flesh, then threw me back with enough force that I landed on my ass a few feet closer to shore.

Cold waves lapped against my skin, cooling the wound there that would be closed by nightfall.

My dagger hung loosely at his side. With stiff, hurried force, he gripped the sheath in both hands and buried it deep into his stomach.

He leaned back, face lifted to the sky and yelled.

The sound was deep and heart wrenching. It tore through the sky.

A ripple in the air separated us and a flash of light, the scene shifting slightly, like transparent photographs set on top of each other.

A heavy sound pulsed around us—low but palpable, like a raucous crack of thunder. The aftershocks shook the lakeshore, rattling the trees and everything in sight.

A thick wave thrashed over me, pulling me under. When I emerged back to the surface, there were two of him.

I blinked a few times, fighting the waves as I stood back up. I walked towards the two Dariuses, my mind fighting like hell to make sense of this .

"Claude?"

Another figure stood suddenly beside him—a man I recognized from hell.

Nash.

In his arms was a girl. Her body was draped and still, though whether she was dead or had simply passed out, I wasn't sure.

Darius's twin allowed confusion to take him over for exactly three seconds as he glanced at the new arrivals, but not a moment longer.

His jaw set in a hard line as his eyes found his brother.

The rippling air between us transformed back to stillness.

"Fucking hell," Claude muttered, "you're a mess."

With a resounding crack, he snapped Darius's neck—not bothering to catch him as he collapsed and the water swallowed him whole.