Into the Shadow Read Free

a few seconds. ‘‘Those bastards.’’
    ‘‘You have heard of them.’’
    ‘‘Eight years ago I was working the North Sea, doing a little pirating, picking up a few things, and three Varinskis caught up with me. Informed me it was their territory, said they were taking everything.’’ Magnus stuck his finger against the indentation in his cheek where he was missing that molar. ‘‘I told them not to be greedy, I had enough for everybody. And listen, I’m no stranger to beatings—my father took the belt to me every day of his life— but those guys . . . They’re why my nose is crooked. They’re why I’m missing three toes and both little fingers. They about killed me, then tossed me into the ocean to drown. Doctors said that was why I didn’t bleed to death. Hypothermia. Varinskis .’’ He spit their name like venom. ‘‘Do you know the reputation those monsters have?’’
    ‘‘Yes.’’
    ‘‘I hate those sons a’ bitches.’’
    ‘‘They’re my family.’’
    Cold fear trickled down Magnus’s spine. ‘‘The rumors about them are—’’
    ‘‘All true.’’
    ‘‘They canna be.’’ Magnus clutched at his rapidly evaporating liquor-induced bliss.
    ‘‘You said the men claim I’m not human.’’
    Magnus dismissed that with as much bombast as he could summon. ‘‘The men are a bunch of ignorant savages.’’
    ‘‘But I am human. A human with special gifts . . . the most marvelous, pleasurable, enticing gifts.’’ Warlord’s voice wove a spell around them.
    ‘‘No need to tell me. I’m all for a man keeping his secrets.’’ Magnus struggled to stand.
    Warlord’s hand clamped around his arm and jerked him down with a thump. ‘‘Don’t leave, Magnus. You wanted to know.’’
    ‘‘Dinna want to know that bad,’’ Magnus muttered.
    ‘‘You wanted reassurance. I’m giving it to you.’’ Warlord handed Magnus the bottle. Handed it to him as if he would need it. ‘‘A thousand years ago my ancestor, Konstantine Varinski, made a deal with the devil.’’
    ‘‘Fook.’’ Magnus had always hated stories like this. Hated them because he believed them.
    He wished that the moon could wipe out the shadows, but it was barely half, and the bleak white light poked at the shadows but could not vanish them. He wished for some more of the men to keep him company, but the fools were in the valley, gambling, drinking, playing their stupid video games, and puking. Nobody knew he sat up here, unearthing secrets better left buried, and now in fear of his life.
    ‘‘Konstantine had a reputation on the steppes. He delighted in killing, in torture, in extortion, and it was whispered that his cruelty rivaled the devil’s.’’ Warlord’s voice warmed with humor. ‘‘Satan didn’t like those stories— I’d guess he’s a little vain—and he sought out Konstantine with the intention of removing him from the competition.’’
    ‘‘Dunna tell me Konstantine defeated the evil one,’’ Magnus said incredulously.
    ‘‘No, he offered himself as Satan’s best servant. In return for the ability to hunt down his enemies and kill them, Konstantine promised his soul, and the souls of all his descendants, to the devil.’’
    Magnus peered at Warlord, trying to see him, but as always the shadows around his leader were thick, dense, impenetrable. ‘‘You’re his descendant?’’
    ‘‘One of many. A son of the current Konstantine. ’’ Warlord’s strange eyes gleamed in the dark.
    ‘‘I told ye. Long winter nights, and all the old tales told to frighten the children.’’
    ‘‘The children should be frightened.’’ Warlord lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘‘They should shiver in their beds to know creatures such as me are abroad in this world.’’
    Magnus knew what evil was. His father had preached to him every day while he tried to beat the rebellion out of him. That was why, now . . . Magnus could almost feel the flames of hell scorch his flesh.