AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Paxton threw his arm wide. “What do you mean ‘wrong’?”
“Password’s changed.”
Paxton shot a glare at the windows of the mansion—even bigger than Hell’s Gate, which was saying something—that sat at the end of a long, gravel driveway. The house was white, the roof, shutters, and doors dark blue. There was a massive courtyard ringed with trees out front, a fountain in the center.
“You can’t change the password, dipshit!” Pax exclaimed. “It’s MY clubhouse!”
“Language,” Darien scolded.
A heavy pause. “Wait juth-t a minute!” Eugene squawked. “Who’s out there with you? You’re not supposed to bring new people here when Roman’s not home, Pax!”
“Eugene,” said a different voice. This one was bass and husky, and sounded like he was about this close to disowning his little brother. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
Darien revved his engine. “Kylar, open the gate!” he called.
There was a loaded pause. And then Kylar said, “No way is that who I think it is. Gene, go open the gate.”
“But—”
“Go, you termite!”
A heavy sigh. “Fine.” The intercom crackled once before falling silent.
Darien studied Pax, who was still glowering, rain dripping off his nose. “Roman lets them on the property while he’s gone?”
“He lets Kylar on the property. Eugene’s just here ’cause he’s cool enough to be my friend.” He frowned and toed the gravel, eyes on his shoe. “And Kylar’s brother, I guess,” he admitted.
“Am I cool enough to be your friend?” Darien joked, attempting to lift the kid’s spirits.
It worked; his face lit up with a smile. Good—he didn’t need to feel any more unworthy after the horseshit Darien had seen in that alley.
“Pfft, just look at ya!” Paxton waved a hand that was drowning in his floppy jacket-sleeve. “You’re cool enough to be everybody’s friend.”
The gate rolled open, and the thick layers of spells protecting the property mellowed.
Darien beckoned to Pax. “Get in the car.”
“I’ll walk. The house is like right there.”
“You’ll get in the car so you can show me around. I don’t want to have to wait for your slow ass to get up the driveway. Besides, it’s pouring out, and you look like a rat that just crawled out of the sewers.”
Pax sighed dramatically, but stomped around the front of the car and opened his door. “You are just like Roman.” He got in, muddy shoes squeaking.
The car growled as Darien looped around the fountain and drove up to the house. He parked as close to the front doors as he could get, cut the engine, and put his hood on, still damp from when they’d walked the Avenue of the Waning Moon.
He got out, and Paxton followed, dragging his backpack across the driveway.
Kylar Lavin stood on the front steps—grinning. The Shadowmaster was lean and tall, his skin a rich shade of brown, black hair buzzed short. His cheekbone was marked with a small tattoo of the black skull of Obitus, god of death and the dying.
Standing beside Kylar was a mini version of him—more gangly, with an unruly mop of black hair, a mouthful of braces, and glasses with thick lenses, the frames too big for his face. Darien figured the kid was only part-hellseher; no pureblood would have a prescription that terrible, let alone a prescription at all.
Half-brother, then. The one Darien had heard about but never met.
Kylar stepped forward. “Darien fucking Cassel,” he said, shaking his hand. “Long time no see.”
Darien dipped his chin in greeting. “Kylar.”
