She sets the silver bowl with the last charm down on the porch. “She wasn’t trying to protect him, Alex.” Her gaze darts over her shoulder to the hunter-filled bar. “She was protecting you.”
I scrub my fingers through my hair, pulling hard enough to scalp myself. “I don’t need her protection,” I grumble, pissed at the world. “She’s not my damn bodyguard. I mean, what the fuck was she thinking keeping my own flesh and blood from me? She never gave me a choice.”
“She loves you,” Mrs. Lacroix whispers. “Trust me; this wasn’t easy on her either.”
I stare at the darkening sky. “Fuck love.” It only ever brought me pain and misery. Scratch that. It only ever brought pain and misery to the ones I love.
Mrs. Lacroix pulls the last charm out of the bowl. It’s a circular wooden plate with a pentagram carved into it. “Have a little faith,” she says, securing it around my neck. “It’s going to be okay.”
I gaze down at my chest. Back in the old days, hunters used greenwood to burn witches at the stake. Mostly, because they wanted them to suffer a slow and painful death—fresh wood burns slower than its dried counterpart. Pretty ironic witches now use it to keep hunters alive, huh?
Chapter 41
Amanda
I rest my eyes for a little while. Over the course of the past forty-eight hours, I made sure I won’t screw up the last ritual. I read the entries in the First Grimoire over and over. The words of a mad woman became my own. Up to the point where I could no longer differentiate between the voice of the book and my own.
“You’re going to kill him,” roars through my aching head time and again.
Him, that’s Alex. I caught a glimpse of the future, him begging me to stop the last ritual, me driving the cherub sword through his heart.
“He needs to die.”
In my vision, I had no issue ending his existence. He kneeled before me, telling me how much he loved me, assuring me it’s the book not me. I laughed at him, thought he was stupid for not seeing the real me—the darkness I was fated to become—and offed him.
“Just don’t fall for his lies.”
I didn’t. I won’t. Alex means nothing to me. Even now, when I sense his proximity, I’m numb to his charms. There was a time when one look into his malachite eyes made me wish I was someone…something else. Not anymore.
The season of the white witch is over. Masquerading as someone I’ll never be ended when I understood why the book wants to destroy the whole of creation. You see, the world was always better off without humans, demons, angels, and gods. Born of light, we have become destruction. Once the gate to hell is unlocked, history will rewind. It’s a new beginning. A fresh start. There’ll be no one left to fuck it up.
“Amanda?” Clyde’s voice wafts through the ajar door. “Are you awake?”
I sigh, tired of the demon’s constant approaches. “What do you want?”
He moves toward the bed. “The sun is about to set,” he says, flinging himself down next to me.
I gaze out the window, ogling the fireball. Its power slowly fades, giving darkness room to nourish. “I’ll be there in a few.” The gate is close by. It won’t take us long to get there. The ritual itself doesn’t need much setting up either. We’re good.
“There’s something you should know,” he says after a short pause.
I snicker. “They’re all here.”
He squints. “How do you—”
“There’s nothing I don’t know.” True story. The secrets the book shared with me, forgotten knowledge of ancient times, makes me the closest thing to all knowing there is.
Clyde folds his hands in his lap. “Then you know they have an army?”
“Yes.” I prop my elbows into the mattress, pushing myself up. “But we have the book.”
His gaze darts to the ancient tome, resting on my nightstand. “Does it…does it tell you things?” Clyde’s dark brown aura suggests he fears my answer. Most likely because he’s afraid I’ll get to the bottom of his lies.
“It does.”
He draws a deep breath, stroking his chin. “Like what?”
I shift closer. Our lips are almost touching. “Everything,” I breathe into his mouth. “Absolutely everything.”
His eyes go wide.
“Yeah, that’s right.” I trace his frozen jawline. “I know why you really want to open the gate, Clyde. But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
He yanks back, jumping to his feet. “We’re leaving in half an hour,” he says before he slams the door shut behind him.
“Moron.” He truly thinks he can win this battle. If I felt anything, it’d probably be pity.
Chapter 42
Alex
The full moon is high in the sky, fat and blood red. Its beams break through the crown of the trees, casting eerie shadows along the way. Setting one foot after another, I keep moving. The wind wails—a battle cry, foreshadowing what’s to come. Somewhere in the distance, the hoot of an owl echoes. The animals of the forest sense danger. It’s why the crows form circles in the sky.
The bloated blood moon accompanies me as I follow Berith’s instructions, heading down a narrow path, supposedly leading me to the gate of hell.
The hunter inside me is on high alert, scanning my surroundings like a hawk, expecting a demon attack at any given moment. “They can sense you,” Berith warned me. “Be prepared.”
The best hunter couldn’t be prepared for a damn army of demons. Not alone. Jesse was right. Legend’s plan sucks. Sending me in alone to distract them is a suicide mission, but they don’t give a fuck about me. To them, I’m just a traitor responsible for the end of the world. None of them will shed a tear if some demon rips me apart.
“It’s okay to be afraid,” my dad used to say. “Just make sure fear doesn’t control you.” I’m beginning to think he wasn’t talking about demons and witches. The monsters out there are less terrifying than the ones we hide inside.
I spot the crossroad Berith mentioned and pause. The sky is clear, yet the stars are barely visible. Hope is out of reach, death treads on my heels.
C’mon, Remington. You can do this.
I’m not so sure about this. Taking a right now, means walking straight into my own hell. I’ll have to face what I did to Manda, what my fear has turned her into. And maybe, Legend’s plan works. Maybe I can stall the Knight of Hell and Manda long enough for the others to launch their surprise attack. But what then? Will I point my damn Beretta at her again? Will I pull that fucking trigger, sending the woman I love to purgatory? A place even demons fear?
Fuck life.
Fuck love.
Fuck me.
I’m the one who should rot in the pit. Not Manda. Never Manda. Sure, she doesn’t pretend to be a hero like me, and maybe she is selfish and arrogant. Yet she’s never turned her back on the people she loves. She didn’t choose a fucking PlayStation game over her sister, never threatened to kill me because I’m a hunter. Amanda Bishop doesn’t deserve that kind of fate. I do.
A branch snaps behind me.
Fuck.
Gun drawn, I spin, ready for the first fight of the night. “Show yourself,” I order, index finger on the trigger.
Leaves rattle. A shadow steps out of the safety of a large ash. “Whoa, easy there, bro.”
“Jess?” I keep my gun pointed aware demons can imitate voices. “That you?”
He approaches me, hands up in the air. Moonlight reflects off his hardened face. “It’s me, Alex.”
Holstering my gun, I inch closer. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He’s supposed to be with B, entering the battlefield with the rest of the odd stop-the-apocalypse crew.
He brushes a loose strand of his untamable hair out of his face. “What do you think I’m doing?” He cocks a brow. “I’m not going to let my brother march into a war by himself.”
The big brother wants to yell at him, kick his ass back to the edge of the woods where the others wait. A part of me, though, celebr
ates his arrival. We’ve been hunting together since forever. It feels right to face the end of our journey together. “Jess, you—”
“Don’t.” He shoves his palm in my face. “Don’t even try to talk me out of this. We’re brothers, Alex. We stand together, we fall together.”
I smirk. “Bad Boys for life, huh?”
“Exactly.”
“Legend’s going to be pissed.”
He pulls his brows to his hairline. “Do I look like I care?”
Nah, he looks like he enjoys the prospect of fucking with the Malleus dick. “What about, B?”
He plays cool, smiling lazily. “What about her?”
“Seriously?” I raise my brows. “You just gonna stand there pretending you’re not worried sick about her walking into this mess?”
His gaze drops. “Does it matter?” Defeat lowers his voice. “She made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want me anywhere near her.”
“She’s hurt and pissed.” I meet his gaze. “What do you expect her to do? Throw you a ‘thanks for threatening my family’ party?”
“She hates my face, Alex.”
Love drama takes a back seat when the apocalypse approaches. But what if this is our last brotherly talk? What if tomorrow he wakes up without me, forced to face the world on his own? I can’t welcome death without knowing he’ll be all right. “Listen,” I say. “I’ve been where you are. So here’s a piece of advice; don’t be a coward. Go apologize. Make this shit right. It’s not too late.”
He sighs. “How can she forgive me when my own brother can’t?”
I think of what B said. Make your amends. Because some of us might live. “You lied to me, Jess. And I get why you did what you did, but it’s not your job to protect me. Just like it isn’t Manda’s. I make my own choices and I live with the consequences.”
“I know.” He draws a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Hell, I’d take it all back if I could, but—”
“What’s done is done,” I say, looking ahead. “Just promise me you’ll make it right.”
“How?” he asks. “How can I ever look Manda in the eye after what I’ve done?” He shakes his head. “How can I look you in the eye, Alex?”
“You—”
Cold steel presses against the back of my head. “Look what we have here,” a female, high-pitched voice says. “If it isn’t the Remington brothers.”
Eyes wide open, jaw clenched, Jesse looks over my shoulder. “Shit.”
“We’ve been expecting you,” the woman cheers as a dozen red, glowing eyes stare back at us.
So much for Legend’s ingenious plan.
Chapter 43
“Move,” the red-eyed bitch orders, pushing the barrel of her shotgun against the back of my head.
“Relax,” I mutter, determined to keep my cool.
The rest of the red-eyed dozen—seven dudes and four chicks—march behind us. One of them, he looks like Opie from Sons of Anarchy—long beard, leather jacket, biker boots—escorts my little brother. “Don’t even think about it,” he hisses as Jesse goes for his pocket.
“Chill,” he shoots back, holding his empty hands up. “It’s not like I’m dumb enough to mess with all of you.” Liar. Hundred bucks say he was reaching for the herb mixture Mrs. Lacroix gave us earlier. Apparently, it can slow these mothers down.
We head down the narrow, overgrown path. The sky is an ocean of black wings. The red glow of the moon illuminating the crows’ dark feathers. “They feel it coming,” the bitch whispers in my ear, her sulfur breath beating against my neck. “It’s just a matter of time before we take back what’s rightfully ours.”
I cast her a sidelong glance. “You mean before all of us, including you and your friends, perish, right?” I don’t think Berith lied when she said the ominous final battle would end in a damn blood bath.
Red-eyed bitch throws her head back and laughs. “So you spoke to the princess, huh?” She waves it off. “Berith is paranoid. Demons can’t die. We can only be sent back to hell, dummy.” Someone should tell her unwavering confidence has led to the downfall of empires before. I would, but she’s still in her dream world. “And once the gate is open, we can come back any time we please.”
Yay! The future reeks of hellfire and brimstone.
Jesse peeks over his shoulder at Opie-lookalike. “So you’re not afraid of the final battle?”
“Nope.” He cocks a brow, rocking a lopsided grin. “Can’t wait to kick some heaven ass. Now”—he pushes him forward—“keep your mouth shut and move.”
The scent of sulfur and burned meat wafts through the air. We’re close. The meadow Berith mentioned is right ahead of us. Any second, we’ll be two lambs in the midst of a demonic legion.
“Alex?” Jesse elbows me. “I truly am sorry. I need you to—”
“Don’t,” I bark, aware this is some crappy in-case-we-don’t-make-it apology. “We’ll talk about shit when this is over, okay?”
“Yeah,” he grumbles, gazing at the beating black wings above us. “In our next life, maybe.” It’s almost as if I’m back at the bar, talking to B.
My lips part, but red-eyed bitch smacks me. “Quiet now.”
We leave the path, stepping across an invisible power line. Electricity jolts through my bones, stiffening my muscles. My heart skips several beats. I can barely breathe. “What the fuck?”
Red-eyed bitch laughs. “Black jade.” She points to thousands of tiny black stones scattered on the ground. “Keeps trash like you at bay.”
I stopped listening to her about two seconds ago. My attention is torn between the First Knight’s army—hundreds of demons, hungry for blood—and the rusty monstrosity across the meadow. The entrance to hell is an eight-foot tall iron gate. Its sharp spikes appear to pierce the damn sky.
“Welcome to the end, boys.”
“Manda?” Terror fills Jesse’s eyes. “Is that you?”
The girl moving toward us is just a shadow of Manda’s former self. Black veins, pale skin, crazy in her eyes—hello, Carrie. “Jess.” She snickers. “Glad you could make it.”
The First Knight steps out from behind a tree, hauling a girl by the hair toward Manda. She’s kicking and crying, begging and pleading, but the bastard doesn’t care.
Neither does Manda. “Shut up,” she barks at the terrified teenager.
“Wait.” Jesse’s jawline hardens. “Isn’t that—”
“The Blairs’ missing daughter.” I recognize her from the pictures.
“Manda,” Jesse starts, “don’t—”
She snaps her fingers and Jesse’s jaw freezes. “Sit back”—she forces my brother on his butt with a move of her hand—“and enjoy the show.”
I drink it all in—the demons, the First Knight, the crying Blair kid, and Manda who isn’t Manda. It’s then I realize we’re fucked. Seriously, we are all going to die here.
The First Knight rests a hand on Manda’s shoulder. “It’s time, love.” He looks up at the monstrous moon. “We should start the ritual.”
Manda winks at me. “Let the end games begin.”
Whatever it takes, Papa Legba’s voice thunders through my brain. “Manda?” She looks over her shoulder. “Why don’t you take your issues out on the one person you truly hate?”
She rolls her eyes. “And who would that be, Alex?”
“Me,” I say, spine like iron.
“He’s just baiting you,” the First Knight reasons. “C’mon, we’ve got more important things to do.”
She’s about to walk away. I can’t let that happen. “I thought about accepting your mom’s offer.”
Good news: it works. Bad news: she’s coming at me, murder in her blazing green eyes.
Chapter 44
Amanda
Alexander “jerk-face” Remington has some nerve telling me, the witch with more juice than Beetlejuice, he considered accepting Mother Dearest’s kill-my-evil-daughter offer. And even now, with my hands wrapped around his throat, he laughs in my face. “Admit it,” he choke
s out. “You hate me.”
Hate is nothing but a word children use when they don’t get what they want. I am no child. The rush intoxicating my system is pure, unfiltered wrath. “You”—I tighten my grip around his throat—“don’t know anything about me.”
His face reddens. “You’re wrong.” He gasps for air. “I know you spent most of your life trying to convince your mother you aren’t evil. And when you came to understand it’s pointless, you spent the rest of it living up to being it.” His gaze darts to the gate of hell. “This, all of this, is the rebellion of a little girl with mommy issues.”
“Alex,” Jesse hisses, about two seconds away from a heart attack. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I flash Little Remington a smile. “Signing his death certificate.”
Fire blazes through my hand. I shut my eyes, picturing Alex flying against a tree. When I open them again, his body bounces off the massive ash, dropping to the damp ground like a puppet without strings.
That’s enough, the voice in my head barks. Focus on the ritual before you lose the power of the moon.
I gaze at the sky. Hundreds of crows obscure the moon. A minute past midnight, the red giant will be useless to us. So why am I wasting my time on Alex?
He presses his palms into the soil, struggling to get to his feet. I could make my vision come true. Walk over there and stab the sword through his heart. It’d be a piece of cake. But the wrath inside my heart keeps me rooted to the spot. Death is too easy. I want him to suffer, to see who I truly am. “You”—I wave two faceless minions over—“bring him to the gate.”
“Manda,” Jesse objects. “Please…”
“Bring him, too,” I order, spinning on my heels.
Congrats, Remingtons. You secured yourselves front row seats to the apocalypse.
Chapter 45
Alex
The creatures toss me to the ground, my head barely missing a rock. Then again, what’s another head injury? Manda already broke a few of my ribs when she threw me against the tree. No fucking around, every breath I take hurts like a mother. I’m not sure I can stand on my own two feet. I had to do something, though. Coax out some kind of feeling. Wrath was better than no emotion at all.
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