by N M Thorn
“I was the older child of two poor Mexican immigrants,” continued Ricardo, his fingers playing with the empty glass. Then he shrugged, and his lips twitched as if he were repeating something to himself. “Anyway, by the age of twenty, I had enough of counting every penny, wondering if I’d have food to feed my little sister or a roof over our heads tomorrow.
“Both my parents passed away, and the local gangs were beating at my doors. So, my sister and I decided to move from California to Arizona, where I wanted to start my own business. The real estate in Arizona, as well as the cost of living, was a lot cheaper, so I found a partner who was willing to back me up and started flipping houses.” He rolled his eyes, pursing his lips at the memory. “Stupido...”
“Didn’t work out, I gather?” asked Damian quietly, putting effort into hiding his disgust.
Ricardo shook his head and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his lap. Then he glanced up at Damian and smirked darkly.
“Disgusting, right? I’m a”—he slammed his fist on his knee and straightened—“disgusting, dirty, no code, no honor... I know.” He laughed bitterly. “After a few deals, my business flopped, and both my partner and I lost everything we had.” He fell silent, staring into space over Damian’s head. “You probably don’t know how it feels to work your ass off day in and day out with nothing to show for it. I was a good person, Damian, honest and kind, and every night when I went to bed thinking how I was going to pay my bills, I prayed, asking God what I was doing wrong. I didn’t ask him to help me get rich overnight. I prayed to find a job where I could work hard and make enough to be able to pay for my sister’s education...” He chuckled bitterly, staring down at his clenched hands. “Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to know all the details... At some point, I stopped praying, and when I hit rock bottom, I met this man...”
Ricardo lowered his face into his hands and stopped talking again. A few seconds later, he refilled his glass and drank it in one gulp.
“I sold my soul, Damian... for thirty pieces of silver,” he whispered without meeting Damian’s eyes.
“Is that a figure of speech?” asked Damian, stiffening. “Or did you really make some kind of Mephistophelean deal?”
“I don’t know,” replied Ricardo, biting his lip. “All I know is that I want out. I can’t do it anymore. Every time I capture a person and sell them, it’s harder and harder for me to play the heartless asshole everyone believes I am. But I made a deal, and I must hold up my end or suffer the consequences... And if it was only me suffering, I would say screw it. But my sister... what he would do to her...”
His voice trailed off, and he pressed his hands to his face. His shoulders shook, and for a few long seconds, he remained silent and motionless.
“The moment I saw you in my house,” he continued, lifting his head, “I knew you were the man who could get me out of this mess, Damian. Don’t ask me how I knew it. Sometimes, it’s just the voice of my intuition, but I learned to trust it. It has saved my hide more than once.” He rose with a heavy groan and swayed slightly. “So, I’m giving you your freedom, Damian, in exchange for mine and my sister’s. Your freedom and the life of your precious vamp, in exchange for you breaking my”—he waved his hand—"Mephistophelean deal.”
“Dammit, Ricardo,” muttered Damian, feeling goosebumps covering his arms. “And what makes you think you could hold me restrained long enough to sell, anyway?”
Ricardo huffed, and for a moment, his former look of icy superiority returned to his face. “Gray stone jewelry can hold down even gods. Something tells me that as powerful as you are, you’re not a god.”
“I’m not.”
“So, what would happen if I decorated your neck, wrists and ankles with the gray-stone-infested silver, creating an inverted pentagram out of your giant body? Huh?”
Damian dropped back in his seat and rubbed his forehead, feeling the wetness of sweat under his fingers.
“I would be in pain for a few days,” he replied, his throat as dry as an old parchment. “The pain would be so extreme that over the course of that time, I would die from the pain shock and get resurrected a few times since I’m an immortal being.”
“Immortal...?”
“Yes, immortal. Not a god, though,” said Damian calmly. “After my body adjusted to the effect of the inverted pentagram, it would take me a few hours to break through its magic and shed your restraints like they were nothing.” A dark smile crossed his lips, and he tilted his head slightly, pinning Ricardo with a heavy gaze. “And after I set myself free...” He got up and channeled some of his elemental power, making the walls tremble. “I’d be extremely and profoundly angry with the person who put me through that kind of torture.”
“You swore—,” croaked Ricardo, taking a few unsteady steps back.
“Oh, yeah, I did. This was just a little demo.” Damian smiled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I gave you an oath—you’re safe with me.”
“Oh, dude... ehhh... you’re terrifying... Hold your horses though...right? Your fanged buddy is still not here...” The magpie’s voice sounded in Damian’s mind, and he flinched, reminded of the bird’s presence in the room.
“There are other ways to contain your powers, Damian,” said Ricardo, slowly regaining his composure. “I brought you to your knees with large gray stones once, and I can do it again. I have holding cells made of this material and enchanted with the God’s snare spell. As we both know, the God’s snare circle can disable any being of magic, including you. Am I correct?”
“Yes, you are absolutely correct,” agreed Damian, sitting back down, propping his elbow on one of the pillows. “You can hold me in the God’s snare for a long time, but nothing lasts forever. Well... except me, of course.” He laughed, his laughter sounding scary even to his own ears. “Immortal and all. Anyway, trust me, after I get free, your Mephistophelean deal will seem like a blessing to you.”
“Damian, I’m asking you for help,” Ricardo said, desperation in his voice.
“And what an awesome job you’re doing at that,” growled Damian. “You’re asking for help by threatening me with slavery, torture and imprisonment? By hurting me and my friend?”
“Come on! Be fair. You broke into my house and tried to steal from me!” Ricardo threw his hands up.
Damian took a deep breath, getting his stretched nerves under control. “Anyway, Ricardo, you need to stop what you’re doing. You turned yourself into a slave trader, you know that, right?”
“I know. I don’t care about what happens to me, but I don’t know how to stop all that without my sister suffering the consequences. Like I said, I made the deal years ago, and now, I have no idea how to break it.”
Damian rubbed the back of his neck, moving his head from left to right, exhaustion buzzing through his muscles.
“I can’t help you now, Ricardo. I have no idea who your Mephistopheles is and how to break the deal,” he said quietly. “But even if I knew how to do it, I have my hands full with the necromancer now.”
Ricardo nodded, dropping his head. “As soon as your vamp is back, you’re free to go,” he said without looking at Damian. “The dagger is yours.”
Dammit... Don’t do something you will most certainly regret later... Don’t do it... Don’t do it... Just say no...
“Ricardo, give me your phone number,” he said, silently cursing himself. “Once I’m done with the necromancer, I’ll call you. We have to discuss your situation again and see if there is anything that can be done to set you free.”
Ricardo raised his face, his eyes alight with hope. He opened his mouth to say something, but a loud knock on the door interrupted him, and he snapped around.
“Come in,” he croaked and cleared his throat.
The door opened, and Cole, escorted by a guard, walked into the room. He wore a pair of jeans and a black shirt unbuttoned on his chest. His skin bore no signs of bleeding ulcers, and his eyes didn’t glow with thirst.
“Damian,” he
said, his eyes quickly exploring his brother’s body for any visible injuries.
The guard walked up to Ricardo and whispered something into his ear before leaving the room. Ricardo’s eyes darted to Cole, and his mouth dropped open.
“Mr. Cole Adams,” he whispered with an elegant bow. “Your Majesty.”
“Oh, just cut the crap,” Cole growled in Ricardo’s direction and headed toward Damian. He took in Damian’s appearance, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “You okay?”
Damian gave him a short nod. “You?”
“I’m fine. Mostly,” replied Cole, and Damian could see his brother was pissed, barely containing his aggravation. “What are we doing here?”
“We’re almost done,” replied Damian, turning to Ricardo. “Your phone number, Ricardo?”
Ricardo stilled, his eyes darting from Damian to Cole and then back to Damian. “You two...” he whispered, and a smile crossed his face. It wasn’t dark or sarcastic. It was genuine and warm. He went to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper from a stand and a pen. Quickly scribbling a phone number on it, he offered it to Damian. “Now I know you’re going to help me, Damian.”
Damian took the business card, staring at Ricardo with curiosity. “I already told you that I would. As soon as I’m done with the necromancer, I will call you.”
“Yes, you gave me your word.” Ricardo smiled again. “But now I know you understand me.”
Damian rubbed his forehead, exhaustion of this endless night making his moves slow and fatigued. “Sorry, I think I’m too tired, or maybe the gray stones magic is still affecting me, but I don’t follow.”
“Your vampire.” Ricardo pointed at Cole. “Originally, I thought he was your pet or your sword for hire, but then I saw the way you reacted to his pain back in the collection hall. That made me change my mind, and I thought you were partners or lovers.” He cocked his head slightly, and his eyebrows pulled down a little. “Then when I learned that your vampire was the King of the Arizona Court, for a split second, I thought you were his bodyguard.”
“Well, I am.” Damian chuckled. “I’ve been guarding his useless body for as long as I can remember.”
“Who’s guarding who, doofus?” Cole grumbled back.
Ricardo chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes warming up with humor. “Just what I thought.” He waved his hand at Damian and then pointed at Cole. “You two are brothers.” He sobered up and drew in a long breath. “You would die to protect him, Damian, despite him being a vampire, and I would do the same and more for my sister.” He walked toward the door and opened it, gesturing for Damian and Cole to leave. “You can’t teleport from my house without triggering the protection mechanisms installed here, but once you are outside, feel free to leave. No one will stop you.”
Ricardo bowed to Cole and offered his hand to Damian. Damian swallowed, staring down at the hand of the man who had sold into terrible slavery hundreds of beings of magic, and for a brief moment, all he wanted was to be far away from this place and to never come back here. Ricardo was right—he would do almost anything for his brother, but there were certain lines he wouldn’t cross even for Cole. At least, he hoped he wouldn’t.
Until you’re in the exact same situation as Ricardo, you don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do. So don’t judge...
Making an effort, he took Ricardo’s hand and squeezed it.
“Ricardo, be careful,” he said quietly. “No one should know about our agreement. For your safety and for the safety of your sister. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
He lifted his arm and whistled through his teeth. The magpie flew down from the curtain rod and landed on his shoulder.
“Hallelujah,” it muttered, moving its long tail up and down. “Humans... Just... too... much... talking!” The bird rolled its eyes and slapped Damian on the back of his head with its wing, making him flinch. “Stop yapping and get us all the hell out of here while you still can.”
“I can’t agree more,” Damian murmured, petting the bird’s back, and ushered Cole out the door.
Dammit... Cole was right... I’m a friggin’ magnet for trouble, he thought, walking toward the main entrance.
For years, the Destiny Enforcers had been circling the underground supernatural swamp, but no one wanted to kick this hornet’s nest willingly. Even Moore and his crazy teams stayed away from it, finding all sorts of excuses. Unlike the FBI, the Destiny Council didn’t care about taking apart individual houses. They wanted to find the person who stood above it all, pulling all the strings. Now, thanks to Ricardo, Damian had no choice but to start an investigation.
Who knows, maybe Ricardo’s Mephistopheles is the one Magnus has been searching for—, Damian cut his thought short. The paths of the Board of Destiny are truly unpredictable...
Chapter 17
~ Damian Blake ~
It was still dark when Damian and Cole manifested in front of the main entrance into Paradise Manor. Damian opened the door and halted on the threshold. Before letting his brother in, he scanned the building and the surrounding area for any supernatural presence and then nodded, allowing Cole through first.
They walked through the long hallway as quietly as they could, but as Damian expected, no one was sleeping. River, Ace and Jamie sat in the living room with Gypsy curled up on the couch next to River. The TV was playing, but he doubted anyone was watching. The tension between Ace and Jamie seemed to be palpable, but as soon as Damian walked inside, all three of them got up.
“Aw... Sasquatch... You brought me dinner?” purred Gypsy, stretching her paws, her green eyes fixed on Damian’s shoulder. “How sweet. You didn’t have to.”
“Who are you calling dinner, furball!” the magpie screeched, reminding Damian of its presence, and flew up to the curtain rod. “We’ll see who’s going to eat who.”
The stiffness left River’s shoulders as her gaze lingered on Damian’s face and then slid down his body, searching for injuries. For a split second, her eyes darted to the little bird chirping under the ceiling, but she just pursed her lips, warmth suffusing her features.
“Damian...” River whispered his name barely audibly. She crossed the living room and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, rising on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. Her fingers threaded through the short hair on the back of his head, and he couldn’t help but close his eyes, enjoying her touch, but didn’t embrace her, holding his arms down. She pulled away a moment later and gave Cole a quick hug, ruffling his unruly curls. “I’m so glad you are home and safe, boys.”
Cole nodded. “Sorry, I need to take a shower and change,” he muttered and walked out of the room, barely meeting anyone’s eyes.
Damian followed him with his eyes, and dread spread through him, making small hairs on his arms rise.
“I’m sorry,” he said apologetically. “I know you haven’t slept all night, waiting for us, but give me a few minutes, please. I’ll tell you everything as soon as I come back.”
He almost ran along the hallway and didn’t stop until he reached Cole’s bedroom. Without knocking, he pushed the door open and walked inside. Cole wasn’t in his room, but the sound of running water suggested his brother was in the shower.
“Cole, are you okay?” Damian knocked on the door, but since no one answered, he walked inside.
The lights were off, and the spacious bathroom was semi-dark, illuminated only by the nightlight installed above the sink. Completely dressed, Cole sat on the floor inside the shower stall, cold water running down on him, plastering his hair to his cheeks. His eyes were wide open, and he was absolutely still in that unnerving vampire’s way.
Damian slid the shower door open and walked inside the stall, ignoring the cold rivulets engulfing him. He shut down the faucet and squatted in front of Cole, gently pushing the wet strands of hair from his face.
“What happened?” he asked, but Cole just shook his head and shrugged indifferently. “When the guard carried you away from the collection hall, you were poiso
ned by silver and absolutely helpless. What did they do to you, Nikolai?”
A deep shudder ran through Cole, his jaw clenched so tightly, his teeth squeaked, but he just shook his head again.
“If they abused you...” exhaled Damian, anger spiking his power. “Ricardo ordered them to treat you well. If they just looked at you the wrong way—”
“They treated me well, alright.” Bitter laughter escaped Cole’s tightly pressed lips. “They treated me like I was an exotic animal or an expensive toy... touch but don’t break. And I was completely helpless against them. They made me feel so... dirty, you know? All this time I felt like my skin was on fire, and I couldn’t wait to take a shower to wash their stench off of me. I’m fine, don’t worry.” He shuddered and looked away. “I went through a lot of shit in my life, Dima. Both of us did. We lived through the dark ages, and we saw things that weren’t written in any history books. But I swear to God, never was I treated like an inanimate object.” He raised his gaze, and Damian cringed inwardly at the icy hatred in his brother’s eyes.
“Oh, Cole...” Damian bit his lip, shaking his head, guilt shredding his insides. “It’s my fault you had to suffer through something like this. I should never have let them take you anywhere without me—"
Cole smirked tiredly, running his fingers through his wet hair. “No, Dima, not your fault,” he said softly. “And it doesn’t really bother me much. In a way, I’m glad it happened.”
“You lost me. Is it something vampire-related? How can anyone be happy about being abused?”
“You’ll understand in a minute,” replied Cole with a faint smirk. “But first tell me, is Ricardo an underground trader?”