by Nichols, TJ
“You know the answer.” Terrance pressed his lips into a thin line.
Angus nodded. Terrance would act to keep himself safe and do as he was asked to live and have the chance to fight. Angus was tired of fighting. He just wanted to live. “Do you trust Cadmael?”
“No, and he doesn’t trust anyone either. I never realized until now how much Vinland is feared and hated.”
The Vinnish were the reason that other countries hated magic users, but it hadn’t always been that way. Angus had been able to learn more than he ever had at home, where knowledge was controlled. But the Mayan had watched it unfold and documented the college takeover. It was a chilling read.
When his father was his age, the college was just a place for teaching, not the power behind the government. But the World Council of Demonology had done nothing, or at least nothing effective, and by the time the Institute for Magical Studies stepped in, it was too late. The ice was creeping, spreading.
He didn’t want to be another person who watched and waited and hoped something changed, so he strapped the knives in their red sleeve onto his forearm. They were demon in make and style. He hadn’t seen any Mayan priests wearing knives, though he knew they must own some, since shedding blood and souls was their preferred method for rebalancing. The bone handles were cool as he brushed his fingers over them, but the blades were clean and sharp. He made sure to keep them that way.
Angus lifted his gaze. There was only one way he would get his life back. “Tell Cadmael I will do what he wants. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop Vinland. But then it’s over, and we owe him nothing.”
“That’s what he wants to hear.”
“Then let him hear it.” The sooner he did it, the sooner it would be over. The ice would retreat, the Warlock College would be out of business, and Vinland could pull itself together. He could use what he’d learned to help instead of kill.
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes.” Angus forced a breath out between his teeth. “Let’s not be late to the execution.”
Terrance grabbed his arm as they reached the door. “Let Saka do it.”
Angus knew Terrance meant well. There was worry in his brown eyes and tension at the corners. There would be no coming back from this. It was a line drawn in the red sand of Demonside that couldn’t be uncrossed. It was also usually the line that made an apprentice into a mage.
“Saka trained me for this. It’s an offering to him. Either I do it or you do it.” He held Terrance’s gaze. The anchor didn’t make the kill. He wasn’t sure Terrance could hold the knife and draw blood from another, despite having done it to himself.
Terrance didn’t say anything.
Angus nodded. “I’ll do it. I’ll do what needs to be done.” He opened the door and started toward the doorway in the Training Temple. He trusted that Terrance would follow, though he wanted to be anywhere else. But there was nowhere else he could go.
The air in Demonside was dry in his throat. Angus’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and his palm sweated around the bone handle of the knife.
He expected there to be a ritual place—like Lifeblood Mountain—but this wasn’t up a hill. It was a shaded valley. The sun was overhead but barely sliding past the tree leaves. Somewhere nearby was a nest of blue-and-yellow insects that reminded him of bees, although they were about three times bigger.
Iktan and Saka stood on opposite sides of the stone platform. Like the one on Lifeblood, it looked like a single piece of rock, but there was no hole in the middle to feed the mountain. This rock drained off toward a massive hole in the ground. There was a name for underground lakes, and ones where the roof had caved in and left a dangerous opening to a watery death, but he couldn’t remember it or what they called the creatures swimming in them.
Iktan had pulled him aside and told him what he needed to do, and Saka had reminded him of what it meant to him and his tribe.
Angus fucking knew. He got it, but it would be easier if he didn’t.
Terrance stood opposite him, but he wasn’t looking at Angus or the man who was to die. Instead he stared at some vague point to Angus’s left that made Angus want to turn and see who was behind him.
They were waiting for him.
The man had lost his careless attitude when he was brought across. He’d begged, but the soldiers brought him here and tied him to the rock. There was even a little spot where metal flowed out of one corner to create a loop. The man was calm now, but Angus had done that. He used magic to make him quiet.
He thought he’d need the quiet to concentrate, but it was too quiet. The insects hummed and filled the air with the beating of their wings. The leaves whispered their tales, and water lapped at the rock walls of the deep lake. Something in there was moving, waiting, and Angus was sure he could hear the man’s rapid heartbeat echoing off the rock. His fear was still there—his body knew what was coming, even if his mind had been sent elsewhere.
Get it done, Donohue.
Angus glanced at Saka and gave a small nod. Terrance wouldn’t look at him. Fine. He’d deal with that later. Did Terrance really think he couldn’t do this or that it would break him? Angus wasn’t weak, and he’d spent months training as a mage. Saka had been his first victim when it came to cutting and pain.
He drew up a circle around them, and it snapped into place with a familiar crack of blue light. Visible magic… he’d missed it.
He took half a step forward and flicked the knife over his bare wrist. The blade caught the sun as a couple of drops of his blood fell. He should say something, but words were pretty much useless. Magic was about intent, not pretty speeches and fancy arm waving—though the warlocks liked the spectacle of both. The blood hit the stone in a flash of ruby light, and the scent of metal was on the air.
Terrance lifted his arm as though he were a wooden toy. His expression was blank and his focus internal. It was a look Angus had seen before—one that he’d probably worn many times in Demonside. Terrance wasn’t used to the way demons did magic. He’d never seen the rituals or been part of it, and while he believed in paying for magic and keeping the balance, this was something else.
Angus ran his thumb over Terrance’s skin, and golden magic followed, dulling the nerves so there’d be no pain. A fingerbreadth to the side there was a pressure point that he could use to make someone scream. He made a small cut, and a few drops of Terrance’s blood fell toward the stone. Before they’d even hit, Terrance had pulled his arm away from Angus’s touch.
Saka held his arm out, but Angus didn’t use magic to take away the pain of the nick.
That was the easy part—the part where they were all equal, bound in blood.
Now for the offering—a deposit in the magical bank they’d be drawing from, a sign of good faith, just like the rabbits warlocks had once given their demons. But this time the sacrifice was human… and Angus wasn’t a demon.
How could the knife be so cold? He wanted to wipe his slippery palm, but he didn’t want to show that weakness, not while Iktan was watching. As head mage he had to be there. That Cadmael did not was a relief, though Angus had no doubt Iktan would report back. The giant bee things were quiet, or maybe his heartbeat was too loud. He put a hand under the man’s chin and tilted his head, and the man whimpered, but held still.
Just like a rabbit.
He stared at the skin until he was able to see the bright nerves beneath and the pulsing blood. It had taken him a while to learn how to see. Usi had made him practice again and again on Saka. They were lessons he’d never forget, but the magic illuminated where he needed to cut. One cut.
The knife was so slick with sweat that he was probably going to screw this up. Better to wipe his hand than make a mess. He switched the knife into his other hand and rubbed his palm on his pants. Ready to make the sacrifice, he didn’t wait for his palm to become sweaty again. He grasped the knife.
The slice was deep and sure, and magic poured out of the man in a thick, glinting ribbon of red.
Angus had to speak. “An offering for your service, Mage.”
“It is accepted,” Saka replied as formally as if they were on Lifeblood. “You have been my apprentice. Now you are a mage by the tradition of my people.”
His apprenticeship hadn’t been long enough. He knew less than half the magic that he needed to know.
Iktan’s attention snapped to Saka. Making Angus a mage hadn’t been part of the plan, but it had been Saka’s. When Angus arrived and told him what was going to happen, Saka had reminded Angus of what it would mean.
But Iktan didn’t say anything, and the blood stopped flowing. The man was dead.
Angus really should’ve asked him why he believed in the warlocks’ cause before he cut his throat. Why would anyone want the world to be wrapped in ice and Demonside to be dry and dead?
He dropped the circle, and the gathered magic rolled out like fog and trickled away until it was so well dispersed it seemed to vanish.
Iktan and Saka picked up the body and took it to the hole that was easily half the size of a pitz court. It was several seconds before there was a splash.
What followed shattered all silence and calm—the splashing and deep reverberation as the creatures fed. The knife almost slid from his hand to land in the puddle of blood that was still draining.
Terrance turned away, even though they couldn’t see the creatures devouring the corpse. That was a small mercy. As fast as it had started, it was over, and the animals returned to whatever they did between meals.
Angus swallowed.
A feast had been prepared in town, but he wasn’t sure he was hungry.
Chapter Twenty-One
The room in Saka’s house wasn’t well lit, but Terrance didn’t mind. He didn’t want to look at Angus anyway, and he wasn’t sure he could without something close to disgust or horror showing on his face. He thought he knew Angus, but the man who’d held the knife and killed was a stranger—a mage.
But Terrance was human… and Angus was still human. Yet in that killing moment, he’d been as cold as any warlock who decided who should live and who should die.
Angus dried his face and hands without looking at Terrance. He’d scrubbed his hands hard, like they were covered in blood, even though they weren’t. “You’re very quiet.”
They’d barely spoken. Saka and Iktan had talked on the way back to the village. Their conversation about maps and telestones hadn’t held his attention enough to stop him from reliving the instant the blade had cut deeply. He rubbed his thumb over the small cut Angus had made. It would heal on its own and wasn’t worth the cost of magic, but he wouldn’t let a scab form. The more he rubbed, the redder it became and the more blood oozed out. He needed to leave it alone and stop picking. “Thinking.”
“Don’t.”
“Is that what you did? You stopped thinking and just did as you were told like a good little warlock?”
Angus crossed the floor in three steps. His voice was low and edged in razors. “What would you have had me do? Let him go? This was for the demons, not the priests. It’s their ritual for giving up their freedom to work with us.”
“Saka wouldn’t have wanted death.” He kept his voice equally low, not knowing who was on the other side of the thin wall.
Angus shook his head. “Don’t talk to me about what Saka would want. I’ve seen him kill humans on Lifeblood. I know how to use the knife for pleasure and pain because he taught me.”
Who was this man? “I thought you were learning how to heal.”
“I have been. But that’s just one part of the same magic.”
“You don’t even care. You’ve justified it in your head. Now you’re a mage.”
“Is that what you’re pissy about? Do you think I wanted that? I’d like to have skipped the whole thing. I don’t like death or magic drawn from fear and pain, but sometimes it has to be done.”
“I’ve heard warlocks say much the same.” Terrance stood. He needed to get out. Celebrating was the last thing he wanted to do.
Angus grabbed his arm. “There’s a difference between justifying and making peace with what has to be done. That man was a spy, and he was looking for me. There’s a price for my return to Vinland. What do you think will happen to me when I’m there? Will they give me some wine and have a little chat or will they peel the skin from my body and return me piece by piece to Demonside?” Angus released him. “Maybe you’d like to collect that reward.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“What should I be? Cold like a warlock, or stupid like some kid who never even wanted magic in the first place? I’m not that person anymore.”
“I can see that. But have you stopped to think about who you’re becoming?”
“I told you I’d do what it took to return the balance, and I meant it. I never meant to drag you into it.”
“What do you want from me?” Was he an afterthought? A convenience? Angus had never made him feel like that, but how well did he really know him. How could he love someone who killed so easily?
“A friend. A lover. Someone who wasn’t part of this. I want more than this.” Angus flung his hand out and then let it fall to his side.
“What more is there?”
Angus had everything—power and status—and he could use magic far better than many of the third-year warlocks Terrance had known. The college had wanted him watched even before he was taken by Saka on the day of the demon summoning. That’s why Angus had gotten a fucking mage as his demon. No one got a mage as their demon… except maybe the Mayans. No warlock.
Maybe Angus wasn’t a warlock after all.
Terrance didn’t know what he was.
“What did you want from life? To play rugby and to defect. You’ve done that. Now what?”
“I don’t know.” Terrance had no other plans because he couldn’t make any while they were perching on the whim of the Mayans. They could be knocked off at any time, and they’d land in the hungry mouths of whatever waited below. The moans of the things in the hole still echoed in his bones. He had no doubt they’d haunt his sleep too. “I was only ever a rugby player trying to find a way out.”
Angus should never have looked twice at him, but they were stuck together. He wanted that, and he still loved Angus. He just didn’t know how to love him right now. He couldn’t brush the murder aside as being for ritual or magic or the greater good. Maybe he’d never believed in any of that. There was no greater good. There was only one life, and it was for the individual to make it good.
“I don’t believe that. You have magic and a good heart. You could do anything.”
Terrance shook his head. “I can’t be like you.”
Angus looked at the ground. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Angus straightened the suit he’d been given. He tugged at the cuffs and tried to feel comfortable. But it was constricting. He’d only ever owned one suit, and that was for his grandmother’s funeral when he was sixteen. It wouldn’t have fit him now even if he had it. This suit was Mayan style—blue with fine purple stripes. It was nice enough, if one liked bright suits. But he was getting used to seeing them, and they were prettier than the gray or black clothes his father had worn—no Vinnish man would wear anything so bright and bold.
He combed his hair and did his best to make it look something close to civilized. It was full of blond streaks from the desert and well past time for a haircut. He should’ve done that yesterday, but he liked the way Saka ran his fingers through it and pulled him close for a kiss.
That was all that had happened after the feast.
With his blood full of the demon-brewed alcohol, he’d wanted more and so had Saka. They stole a few kisses but couldn’t do more because it would be wrong to exclude Terrance, especially with him there drinking silently and waiting to go back to Humanside. He’d barely made eye contact with him or Saka. Angus pressed his lips together.
He’d wanted to stay the night. He’d th
ought that, with the three of them finally together and not fighting for survival….
But no. Terrance was still doing his best to avoid him.
There was nothing he could do about his hair or Terrance at the moment.
He had no idea what he was going to say to the World Council of Demonology either, but Cadmael had asked him to speak. They were holding a meeting in Uxmal, though only a few knew about it because of security concerns.
There was a knock on his door. He turned, but the door opened before he could say anything. His back stiffened at the intrusion, but then he smiled as Terrance stood in the doorway. “Come in.”
Terrance hesitated and then stepped into Angus’s room. “You look good.”
“I look like I’m playing dress-up.” Though his father would never have let him dress up in his suits.
The corners of Terrance’s lips curved up. “But you look good doing it.”
Angus had become far too used to loose-fitting demon-style clothing. He felt trapped in the fabric and buttons. “Thank you.”
Such a formal thing to say when usually there’d have been kisses instead of words. He fiddled with the buttons on the jacket. Things had never been this awkward between them, and he wasn’t sure what to do.
He had to believe he’d done the right thing. The alternative was too awful. But he wasn’t a murderer. He was a mage. Was he going to have to talk about that with the WCD?
Saka had warned him that there were things mages couldn’t discuss with nonmages. Where was that line and would someone explain it to him at some point?
Terrance leaned against the wall. “Do you think they’ll cave to the demands of the Institute for Magical Studies?”
“I don’t know.” As the most powerful demonologists, the Mayan Empire and its affiliated nations had a strong voice, but if the whole world turned against them, would they stand alone?
The knowledge of demon magic would be lost if no one used it, and that would only strengthen Vinland. That was what he needed to say. While they couldn’t fight magic with magic, they needed the knowledge and the ability to rebalance. Eventually someone would have to return the magic to Demonside.