Page 68 of Dance in the Stones

“You’ll do neither,” Damon said, his voice carrying his hellhound’s growl.

Sergei blurred forward with vampire speed, stopping just ten feet away. “One hellhound, no matter how powerful, cannot stand against all of us.” His smile showed fangs. “We respect your strength, but you’re outmatched.”

“That’s debatable,” Damon said calmly. Through the pack link, he sent one word: NOW.

Eleven hellhounds translocated simultaneously into the courtyard. All in their shifted forms, they were massive black hounds with shoulders as high as a man’s chest, eyes that flashed red in the darkness, and a presence that made reality itself feel heavier. They formed a protective semicircle around Damon and Redford, around the castle entrance, around everything they were protecting.

The Keepers of the Old Ways froze. Magnus’s magic sputtered and died. Sergei lost his vampire stillness, his instincts old enough to recognize a threat beyond his capacity to fight. The five alphas behind them all took a step backward, their dominance crumbling in the face of power that dwarfed their own.

One hellhound was formidable. The entire original pack together was completely unbeatable. Through the pack link, Damon’s voice carried to all his brothers: Protect the sanctuary. And as one, all eleven hellhounds growled.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The sound echoed off the castle walls, reverberated through the stones themselves, and traveled through the earth beneath their feet. Damon felt his brothers’ presence in his bones, and the staunch certainty that they could not and would not fail.

Magnus recovered first, drawing himself up. His magic flickered around his fingertips, weaker now but still present. “You can’t all stay here. The Fates decreed you must live separately. You’re violating…”

“My brothers aren’t staying.” Damon kept his voice level, unbothered by Magnus’s attempt at authority. “They’re visiting and protecting my home. There’s no law against that.”

Through the pack link, Lamont’s amusement rippled. Technically correct is the best kind of correct.

Shut up, Kolton sent back, but warmth colored the words. Let Damon be dramatic.

Sergei blurred forward, his vampiric speed turning him into a streak of shadow aimed directly at the castle entrance. Three hellhounds intercepted him before Damon could blink - Kolton, Faron, and Lamont moving together, in the same way they’d hunted rogue spirits across the wasteland. Sergei stumbled back as he found himself staring into three sets of eyes that flashed crimson.

“Last warning.” Damon’s voice carried the authority of a hound who’d defended Lord Hades himself. “Leave peacefully, or we’ll make you leave.”

Magnus’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t used to losing. Damon could see it in the way the mage’s shoulders squared, in the sudden crackle of power that sparked along his raised hands. Magnus had spent centuries winning through bending others to his will through sheer force. The mage’s magic lashed out toward the castle’s wards.

Damon felt it through his connection to the stones - felt Magnus reaching for control, trying to seize the defensive magic woven through Duncarrick’s foundation. The castle reacted instantly, its consciousness flaring in panic, defensive wards surging outward in self-protection.

But underneath that immediate response, Damon sensed the trauma and the hesitation. The castle wanted to fight back but didn’t know if it should, didn’t know if it could trust its own judgment after Callum’s betrayal centuries ago.

Through the bond, Redford’s alarm hit Damon like a physical blow. His mate pressed one hand flat against the nearest stone wall, his gargoyle resonating with the castle’s fear.

“It’s terrified,” Redford said urgently. “Magnus is doing exactly what it’s been afraid of - trying to control it, use it. Damon, we need to…”

“The anchoring ritual.” Damon’s hellhound surged beneath his skin, demanding action. “Remember, the papers from the crystal room talked about it. JC asked if we’d done it yet just this afternoon. We need to do it now.”

Redford met his eyes, understanding flashing between them. They’d talked about it and from what they’d read, the anchoring ritual was supposed to be done carefully, with hours of preparation. It would tie their existing mate bond directly into the castle’s consciousness, making them permanent keepers in a way that went beyond just living there. But doing it now, with Magnus actively attacking the wards, along with six other hostiles trying to breach the castle’s defenses...

“We have to do it,” Redford said without hesitation.

Through the pack link, Damon sent quick instructions: Red and I need to complete a ritual to help the castle. Don’t let anyone interrupt.

The response came from all eleven brothers simultaneously, a unified surge of determination that made Damon’s chest tighten. We’ve got you.

The hellhounds tightened their protective circle. Kolton shifted position to block any angle toward Damon and Redford. Lamont’s growl deepened into a promise of violence. JC’s massive form went utterly still as he focused on the serpent shifter.

Redford pressed both hands against the castle’s outer wall. Damon covered his mate’s hands with his own, feeling the warmth of Redford’s skin, the steadiness of his heartbeat through their bond, and the absolute trust that flowed between them.

Damon pulled on his power, and it poured out of him – the power of eternal hellhound fire that had burned in the Underworld for millennia, a power gifted by Lord Hades himself, combined with strength forged in the wasteland where lost spirits wandered. The magic flowed through his hands into Redford’s, mixing with his mate’s gargoyle’s affinity with the stones, that ancient connection to the bones of the earth.

Through the bond, they weren’t two separate beings anymore. They were one consciousness working in perfect harmony, fire and stone balanced in a way that made them both stronger.

The castle’s crystal chamber erupted with light deep in the undercroft. Through his connection to his mate and the stones, Damon felt every facet of every crystal ignite, felt the magic that a multitude of magical beings had woven centuries ago roaring to life. Power flowed upward through the foundation, through the walls, through the towers and battlements and every single stone that made up Duncarrick.

Magnus clearly sensed what they were doing, and his face contorted with rage and panic. He had clearly done his homework, and whether it was instinctual or academic, he knew that if the anchoring was complete, the castle would be permanently beyond his reach. The castle would be forever bolstered by keepers who couldn’t be manipulated or controlled. Magnus couldn’t let it happen.