Intensity

Intensity

Nick jumped as his phone rang. Stunned, he glanced to Takeshi, then to Simi and Nashira. “Um . . . anyone have any idea how there’s a cell tower in this dimension?”

Takeshi snorted. “It’s magick.”

“Seriously, bruh? You took it there?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You asked. That’s the answer. I have to allow it for all the times Acheron comes to visit. Those Dark-Hunters of yours never leave that poor boy alone.”

Simi made a rude noise. “Ain’t that the truthest? Ring. Ring. Ring. That ole phone ring so much, I swear The Simi hears it even in her sleep.”

Curious about that comment, but needing to take the call, Nick pulled his phone out. “Hey, Ma, sorry I’m—”

“Where are you, Boo?”

Nick winced at her hysterical tone. That was what his mom was most famous for. If he ever got out of her sight, she was like a bloodhound. He was surprised she hadn’t tethered them together on his arrival from her womb.

And while he hated to ever lie to her, telling her he was in an alternate dimension with preternatural beings was just a really bad idea. “I was feeling better, so I went out to grab a bite with friends. Didn’t you see the note I left?”

Something strange was going on in the background. Were those sirens? He wasn’t quite sure.

When his mom spoke again, it was in a low tone that sounded like she had her hand cupped over the mic. “Listen, baby. There’s a situation here. Can you stay away for a while?”

He screwed his face up at the first thought that came to his mind. His mother had gone to dinner with his mentor and best friend, Big Bubba Burdette who owned the local Computer and Gun store. What the heck had lunatic Bubba and Mark gotten her into now with their shenanigans?

His stomach sank to his feet as an even worse thought hit him.

“Ah, Ma! Please tell me you ain’t doing nothing with Bubba. I swear to God, if I come home to a tie on the doorknob I’ll be scarred for life.”

“Oh my Lord, Nicholas Ambrosius! The things that you get in your head, boy! Don’t make me hunt you down to spank you. Seriously! This has nothing to do with Bubba.”

“Then what?”

“The police just came here to arrest you!”

Nick froze as every bit of blood faded from his face. Bad flashbacks went through him. “W-w-what?”

“You heard me! They’re looking for a suspect to all the murders that’s been going on.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Two of the victims were your friends Alan and Tyree!”

Chapter 1

The end will begin. It always does. On the wind and with stinging pain. Faster than you can see and always when least expected.

Enemies will come and they will go— forever seeking to bring you low. But stand you must, and in even fewer trust. Thyself alone, thy heart of stone. One faith. One truth.

One war.

And so it was long ago, and centuries in our future. One Malachai son who began his race. Whose true love and devotion to his precious Rubati caused them all to be cursed forever. So it began.

So it will end.

One Malachai son cursed to destroy the world because of the love of one woman. Or to save it because through her faithful heart he learned of salvation and forgiveness.

His choice.

To defy his destiny.

Or embrace his fate.

To build or destroy. The same decision that all humanity faces from the moment of birth. A road wide open to all that narrows with every decision made until we make the final one that ends our days with the last exhale we take to extinguish the candle on our lives forevermore.

Pawn or master. Choose wisely or perish from the foolishness of that last poor decision.

The immovable rock or the unstoppable force.

In truth, we are both. Situations have dictated and will dictate which we must be in order to survive. Today we are bitten, yet yesterday, we bit someone else. Tomorrow has yet to tell us which role will be ours, for it is in flux and could fall to either side.

Biter or bitten.

Life is ever a complicated symphony of catastrophes. Ever seeking to lay us low and lift us higher.

And no one has ever understood this better than the Ambrose Malachai. Born Nicholas Ambrosius Aloysius Gautier. Many things to many people. Son. Friend. Boyfriend. Squire. Brother. Dark-Hunter. Malachai. Demon. Husband. Father.

Betrayer.

Destroyer of the world.

Our could-be savior.

Nick stared at the stark words that condemned him. As harsh as they were, they were made twice as bad by the fact that they’d been written in his own handwriting.

In blood.

And they struck him like a blow.

With this he couldn’t argue. His clairvoyance was flawless as he stood beside himself in the future, looking down at the words he was writing in his grimoire.

“How did I get here,” he whispered.

He still didn’t know.

Because the future isn’t set in stone.

His best friend, Acheron’s voice teased him from deep inside his mind. Every decision made impacted the next. An endless rippling stream of indecision.

One moment he’d been a clueless kid in high school. The next, he’d been a willing servant Squire for the Dark-Hunter Kyrian of Thrace. One who’d helped shield the immortal warrior from humans while Kyrian protected them from the demons who preyed on their lives and souls.

Then faster than he could breathe, he’d become a Dark-Hunter himself only to learn Menyara, his voodoo godmother he trusted implicitly, was actually an ancient goddess who’d bound his own powers and hidden him from his demonic father, and others who would kill or use him. That his true destiny was to become the demon who ate the world whole.

That had been his first lifetime.

Until he came back and tampered with it.

Or had he?

Man, Nick could lose his mind with this. Because what Ambrose – —his future self— — had failed to tell him was the secret he’d learned last night.

The secret he now knew.

For the first time ever, he understood Tabitha Devereaux’s tattoo from his vision of their future fight, and why she’d placed it on her arm.

Not for her as a motto to herself.

A note to him to serve as a reminder . . .

Fabra est sui quaeque fati. She creates her own destiny.

That was why the Ambrose Malachai had stopped in the middle of battle to stare down at it. Why he’d screamed out in agony on the day he killed her.

I made myself the monster.

My choice.

Son. Friend. Boyfriend. Squire. Brother. Dark-Hunter. Malachai. Demon. Husband. Father.

Betrayer.

Destroyer of the world.

Or savior . . .

My choice alone.

As with all things. The future would be made by the very decisions he made today. Good, bad and indifferent. He was the master spinner of destiny.

And he, alone, would bear it out.