On Your Knees, Prospect (Kings of Hell MC 3)

For the first time he understood what he truly wanted.

When they entered the living room, Magpie sat in an armchair by the coffee table with a stack of donuts in front of him, and four steaming mugs of tea.

“First of all,” Magpie said right off the bat, “Damon’s been specifically told to stay away from you once he found out you’re still alive, and he violated that order. I can’t work with someone like that, so I was forced to ask my other associates to rid me of him. If he’s got any brains at all, he will not bother you again.”

Vars slumped on the sofa and raised his arm, wordlessly asking Jake to join him. “I’m not entirely sure he’ll listen.”

Magpie rolled his eyes. “You humans. Some of your behaviors are so predictable I start believing I cracked your code, but then something new comes up. Someone from another country, or someone whose brain works differently, and I’m once again at square one. Have some food,” he added in the same breath.

Vars sighed and picked up a donut topped with pieces of bacon and what looked and smelled like candied apple. “I hope your man will deal with this situation. Is this what you are here about?”

Magpie’s brows lowered. “You’re welcome, Vars. I hope you enjoy those donuts my PA picked up for us early in the morning.”

Vars said nothing. After a prolonged pause, Magpie stuffed his face too and spoke with his mouth full. “Our conversation at brunch left me intrigued, so I looked some more into the matters of interest to us. Have any of the residents at the clubhouse made a pact with Baal that required him to plant black stones in the ground?”

Heat spiraled through Jake, and he shuddered when someone knocked, only to enter the living room without waiting for an invitation, as if Vars’s apartment were a public place. At least Knight’s face appearing from behind the door explained the mystery of the fourth cup.

“Mornin’! What did I miss?” Knight was quick to grab a donut and parked his ass next to Jake and Vars, but his arrival made Jake stiffen when his mind returned to the last question asked before Magpie had been interrupted.

“He did.” Jake pointed at Knight, who choked on the food, having no idea what this was about.

Magpie frowned, his chest expanding like a rooster’s. “You told me the gloves were a fashion statement. Have you lied to me, Travis?” he asked, enraged as if this were a personal slight.

Knight swallowed the piece of donut loudly, glanced at the fingerless gloves he’d only started wearing recently, and shot Jake a look of pure confusion. “What?”

“The stones you buried, Knight. Magpie asked us about them,” Vars offered.

Knight’s face transformed, and he offered Magpie a smile. “Oh, yeah. I did bury the stones. I also feed them with blood each new moon,” he said and peeled off one of the leather gloves to show off a symbol that looked like a brand. Despite the gruesome mark of darkened, twisted skin, his hands were as agile as ever.

Magpie’s face did not express amusement. Mild anger, disappointment, and alarm— definitely.

“Is… is that a problem?” Jake asked to diffuse the tension and pressed closer under Vars’s arm.

“A big problem indeed,” Magpie groaned and sank into the armchair with his cup of tea. “The ritual has begun. So your whole time travel issue is out of the way. But now the issue of the Pigeon Heart is even more crucial. Without it, we’re… well, we’re all fucked,” he said with so much emphasis he bared his teeth and shifted in his seat. Instead of a peacock, he was now a rooster that knew all his hens would die come Sunday.

Knight spread his arms. “I had to do what I had to do! I’m not exactly happy about it.”

Vars glared at Magpie. “If you wanted to be informed, you shouldn’t have remained secretive for so long yourself.”

Magpie snarled, dismissing them with a gesture. “Damn Baal! A step ahead of me. Every time. Your Gray needs to retrieve the Pigeon Heart at once, or everything will be lost.”

“He was supposed to do it with Damon’s help,” Jake muttered.

Magpie got up from the armchair and started pacing in front of the windows with the long tail of the robe dragging behind him. “I don’t care how he does the job, but it needs to be done. I need that goddamn ruby if I am to help you save your world.”

“So what’s the next step in the ritual? Maybe we can just put a stop to that?” Knight suggested, but seemed deflated as he put his glove back on.

“That’s right,” Jake said, suddenly perking up. “Didn’t you say someone stopped the ritual last time? How did they do it?”

Magpie spun around to face them, his long hair in wild waves. “By accident. A psychiatric patient cut off both hands of the participant of the ritual with an axe, so that man could no longer fulfill his duties to Baal.”