Doomsday Brethren, Book 04: Entice Me at Twilight (2 page)

Not that Duke particularly wanted to attend the festivities. Felicia Safford would be a stunning bride. White would only heighten her air of innocence. Her blue eyes would dance with life and fire that she’d do her damnedest to repress.

The thought of Felicia made his blood stir, his breathing ragged.
Bloody hell
.

At their first official meeting last night, when Felicia had slid the soft skin of her palm against his, he’d felt a jolt. Duke suspected then that she didn’t belong with his brother. But she’d chosen Mason for reasons he couldn’t fathom, so Duke would grit his teeth through tonight’s ceremony, hope he could keep his stare off the bride, and tamp down his guilty urge to strip her bare and take her to bed.

“Best man.” Ice scoffed. “All the pomp and ceremony of a human wedding sounds absurd. Why don’t humans simply speak words, like the Call, and be done?”

Duke hid a smile. “They speak vows, but the pomp, I suspect, is for the mothers. Mine is in her element, planning Mason and Felicia into oblivion.”

“If you and Mason don’t get on well, why did he choose you as his best man?” Bram’s tawny brow wrinkled in confusion.

“I’m certain our mother had a hand in it.” Plus, as Duke
knew, his presence—given that he’d been labeled one of England’s most eligible bachelors by the human tabloids—would mean lots of press. Damn, where was a noose when he needed one?

“Are you feeling well enough for the festivities?” Bram frowned, staring at the space just around Duke. “I noticed earlier that your magical signature seems a bit faded, like you’re unwell. But shiny ’round the edges. Never seen that.”

His signature was off kilter? The magical aura around every witch or wizard told all others about the person’s state of being. If someone magical was mated, their colors blended with their love’s and visually proclaimed them bonded. If they were magically very weak or strong, a wizard’s or witch’s signature would reflect that with the choice and intensity of colors. Likewise, if one of magickind ailed, their signature would appear faded. But shiny edges?

Sometimes, growing up human only to discover at age thirty that he was actually a wizard was a detriment. He often didn’t understand magic’s subtleties and intricacies any better than magickind understood those of humans.

Duke frowned. “I feel fine.”

“Something is definitely off.”

Something other than the fact he’d awakened in a cold sweat last night, thinking about Felicia being his brother’s wife, thinking of her smiling up at Mason as he sank deep into her body? Imagining her with him made Duke want to demolish buildings with his bare hands.

“You low on energy?” Ice asked, crossing thick arms over his massive chest.

Duke winced. Among magickind, energy was best derived during sex. Frequent, raw exchanges of pleasure powered their magic. Last night, he’d bedded a witch he’d met at a pub. Pleasant enough. He’d already forgotten her name, but
remembered her dark blond hair with honey streaks and her shining blue eyes. She’d made it easy to close his eyes and pretend.

“I said I’m fine,” he bit out. “Let’s focus on why Bram is unable to enter his house.”

“Once we reach what’s left of the walls, we’ll find out,” Bram vowed as they strode through the night.

Suddenly, they hit an invisible barrier inches from the crumbling ruins. Marrok stopped short, shoving at the unseen obstruction with a massive shoulder. Ice pushed with brawny hands. Bram poked and punched it, cursing and kicking when he couldn’t break through. Duke probed it mentally. The barrier didn’t budge.

“The bastard put up his own barrier to prevent me from getting inside,” Bram cursed. “I think he lives to torment me.”

“Who?” Marrok asked.

“Shock.” Bram skimmed his fingers across the wall, then nodded. “His magic is all over this place. He wants me to know that—”

“My magic surrounds your house,” said the wizard in question, now standing directly behind them. “You’re not getting in until I say so.”

They whirled to find Shock Denzell dressed in black from head to toe, ever-present sunglasses shielding his eyes, a leather duster falling to his calves, vicious combat boots covering enormous feet.

Behind him stood a half-dozen undead corpses—a small fraction of Mathias’s Anarki army. Their evil glares made them look exactly like what they were: human zombies whose souls had been sucked out and replaced with Mathias’s twisted thoughts.

Shock’s younger brother, Zain, stood in front of the undead
creatures, a superior smirk lifting his scruffy goatee. A T-shirt that read
Do I look like a fucking people person?
sagged across his chest.

Bram seethed, staring daggers at Shock, who strode past, stepping closer to the walls. He towered above all the Doomsday Brethren except Marrok.

Personally, Duke didn’t believe Shock was secretly fighting for good while pretending to serve evil. Shock merely placated both sides, knowing the winning side would put him in a cushy position eventually. The fact that Zain was one of Mathias’s most fervent supporters didn’t lend Shock any credibility either.

“Protecting my house for me or keeping it safe for someone else?” Bram raised a sharp golden brow in challenge, his tan cashmere coat flapping in the wind.

Shock sent him a mocking grin. “You have some interesting stuff in here.”

It didn’t escape Duke’s notice that Shock had failed to answer the question.

Ice snarled. “What have you taken, you fucking bastard?”

“Fucking bastard?” Shock’s dark brows raised. “Here I thought we were friends.”

“Always knew you were a delusional wanker,” Ice snarled.

“Your choice of friends leaves something to be desired.” Bram’s gaze ran over the Anarki in their robes. Their rotting faces sat deep in their hoods. But there was no missing the chill they radiated or the eyes that glowed with bloodlust.

Shock crossed thick arms over his chest. “Given your friendship with Lucan MacTavish, I could say the same.”

“He’s my best friend, and you stole his mate.”

“Former mate,” Shock corrected, holding up a meaty finger. “And I didn’t steal Anka. Mathias did. After she escaped, she chose
me,
not Lucan, to protect her.”

“Protecting isn’t the only thing you’re doing to her.” Ice’s piercing green eyes said he was ready to rip Shock’s head off. Which might improve both their moods.

Sighing, Duke ran a hand over his jaw, grimacing at the two days’ worth of growth beneath his fingertips. He needed to leave, shave, and get ready for this blasted wedding. God knew, this conversation was getting them nowhere. He’d almost rather perform his familial duty—calm his mother, greet guests, and dodge the paparazzi—than listen to this blah, blah, blah.

Or was it that he’d simply rather be near Felicia?

“Lift your magical protections around Bram’s house and let us in,” Duke demanded.

Shock raised a scathing glare to him. The expression slid off, morphing to something like astonishment, as the wizard stared at him. No, at his signature.

Had the witch last night failed to charge his power? He felt well enough, but …

“You.” He pointed to Duke, the surprise on his face replaced by a glower. “Come here and make me.”

Duke hesitated. Not that Shock scared him. Yes, the wizard did his best to intimidate, but what disturbed Duke was that Shock had singled him out. Usually, the leather-clad goon antagonized Bram, Ice, or Lucan. So why did Shock want to fight
him
now?

Exchanging a glance with Bram, who shrugged, Duke stepped forward. “You’re an annoying bastard.”

Shock sent him a dismissive glare. “You’re barely better than a human.”

“You rattle off your mouth unwisely,” Marrok, himself human, bit out as he tossed back his dark hair and readied for a fight.

With a dismissive wave, Shock addressed the warrior. “You’ve redeemed yourself by mating a very worthy witch and living among magickind. Mr. High-and-Mighty over there,”—Shock nodded rudely in Duke’s direction—“he’s got one foot in both camps. He’s a bloody duke. Who among magickind has use for such worthless human titles? He even smells human.”

“Better than smelling like a backstabbing arsehole,” Duke quipped.

Thunder crossed Shock’s face, and he raced forward and struck Duke, an open palm cracking against his cheek. Duke recoiled. Shock had slapped him, not punched him like a warrior. He felt the insult all the way to his bones.

With a lazy gait, Shock backed up a few paces and sent Duke a challenging glare. “I’d hit you with a spell … but your human blood would probably curdle.”

Gritting his teeth, Duke told himself to stay calm. Shock was baiting him. The question was, why?

Clenching his fists to keep a handle on his temper, Duke squared off with Shock. “As fascinating as your juvenile behavior isn’t, we’re simply here to take stock of the contents of Bram’s house. Kindly remove your … protections and let us in.”

“Fuck off.”

Clenching his fists, Duke repressed the urge to attack. Shock wanted something—not from Bram or Ice or Marrok. But from
him
. When Shock had made more of a pretense of fighting on their side and actually attended the Doomsday Brethren’s meetings, he’d barely spoken to him. To be singled out this way was confusing.

But Denzell wanted a fight. Fine. Duke would play along until he figured out this rubbish.

He drew his wand from his overcoat and whipped it in Shock’s direction.

Before he could conjure a spell, Shock shook his head. “I won’t fight you like a wizard; you barely are one.” He sneered and crooked his finger. “Come here and fight like the dirty humans you were raised with. Show me what you know.”

With a glare, Duke sheathed his wand again and approached Shock. He struck the other wizard with a lightning quick open-palmed slap, tit for tat. Shock’s head snapped to the side. The big wizard laughed.

The elder Denzell brother had long been regarded as crafty and violent. Today, he seemed flat insane.

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

Duke shook his head. If Shock was itching for a fight so badly …

Without another thought, Duke fired a right cross at the leather-clad wizard, who blocked the punch and shoved one of his own at Duke’s gut. As he leapt out of the way to avoid having his guts knocked into his spine, pandemonium erupted around him. Bram attacked another Anarki, tearing his robe away to reveal a greenish-black creature with a sunken face, rotting flesh, and the body temperature of an ice cube.

“Ugh!” Ice groused as he reached for the knife in his boot. “Dead fish floating in the Thames smell better.”

The wizard didn’t exaggerate. Anarki were nasty all the way around.

Marrok engaged two zombies, who circled him, hoping to take him down. Duke flashed a fist out and clipped Shock on the chin. As the other wizard grunted and stumbled, Marrok yanked his ever-constant sword from his scabbard and skewered one of his opponents. Bram kicked the knees out from under his. As the zombie crashed to the ground, his entire body disintegrated, the silky robe fluttering to the ground
in his wake.

Shock’s younger brother emerged from the pack of Anarki with a snarl.

“Zain,” Bram called out. “It’s been far too long since you came for a … visit.”

At Bram’s sly reference to Zain’s prior captivity, the younger Denzell bristled. “You no longer have a filthy, cold dungeon in which to keep me chained.” Zain cast a dismissive glance at the ruins of Bram’s house. “Pity.”

Bram snarled a curse. He’d been short-tempered since Mathias had attacked him with some mysterious spell a few weeks back that had since faded but not broken. That Emma, his mysterious new mate, had abandoned him, only made matters worse. This could get ugly.

Zain whipped out his wand. Bram followed suit. Ice tackled an Anarki between them, a dagger in his meaty fist. Flying punches and kicks brought everyone nearby tumbling to the ground.

As the melee ensued, Shock pounced on Duke, grabbed him by the throat, and dragged him inside the circle of protection, against the crumbling walls of the house.

“Listen to me.” Shock squeezed Duke’s throat.

“Piss. Off,” he croaked.

“Take a swipe at me.” Denzell relaxed his hold.

Shock was inviting him to hit him in the face? With a mental shrug, Duke pounded a fist into the other man’s left cheekbone.

“Bugger!” Shock thundered. “Don’t knock my face off, you stupid fuck. I’m trying to help you. Mathias has a new plan.”

Was this a ruse … or the reason Shock had singled him out? “Go on.”

“At least pretend to struggle while you listen,” Shock
muttered.

That wasn’t too hard, since he wasn’t fond of Shock’s palm pressing on his windpipe. He managed to shove a fist into Shock’s stomach.

“Barmy fuck!” he growled, then lowered his voice. “Mathias seeks to resurrect Morganna le Fay.”

The air and the fight left Duke. Resurrect one of the most evil witches in history? If this story was real … “Is he out of his bloody mind?”

“If Mathias succeeds, he believes he can control her power, perhaps even absorb it.”

Which would make him virtually unstoppable. “Bloody hell …”

“Exactly. Hit me again.”

Making full use of his free pass, Duke unleashed his frustration with another fist to Shock’s gut. The other wizard paid him back with a mean jab to the eye that sent him reeling.

Duke shook off the pain. “To resurrect Morganna, Mathias would have to get into her tomb. It’s supposedly guarded by impenetrable magic. No one would make it alive.”

“Except an Untouchable.” Shock took another jab at Duke’s jaw, connecting with a harsh blow.

An Untouchable, a human completely immune to magic? Were they mere folklore or actually real? Duke wiggled his jaw, grimacing. This was when growing up human hindered him.

He plowed a fist to Shock’s gut again. “Why tell me?”

The other wizard grunted. “Your signature indicates you’ve come into contact with one in the past day or two.”

Then Bram’s words tripped Duke’s memory.
My signature is faded and shiny.

“Bingo.”

Hell. Duke had forgotten that Shock could read minds. And how did Shock know of this signature anomaly when Bram didn’t? Because Bram didn’t use dark magic? And more important, who was the Untouchable?