England, 1677
Malphas had been collecting souls for millennia, and he had never lost one.
He stood invisible among the jeering crowd, watching as the two condemned men were dragged to the gallows. The scent of death hung heavy in the air—not just the death that was about to come, but the spiritual decay that preceded it. Fear, despair, the crushing weight of souls already broken before the rope ever touched their necks.
This was his harvest.
The dark-haired one, Thomas, would be easy. His soul was already surrendering, accepting its fate with the quiet resignation of someone who had known this day would come. But the other one—Lord Valerius Ashford—burned with something that made Malphas pause.
Even facing the noose, even watching his lover's life drain away beside him, Valerius's soul blazed with defiant love. It was beautiful, in the way that doomed things often were. Malphas had seen countless souls in their final moments, but few maintained such fierce, uncompromising light right up until the end.
It would make claiming him all the sweeter.
The ropes tightened. Thomas's soul slipped free first, a gentle release that Malphas caught with practiced ease. One down. But as Valerius's body swayed, as his life force began to separate from flesh and bone, something went wrong.
Light erupted around the gallows—not the harsh light of day, but something older, deeper. Magic that tasted of blood, desperate love, and something powerful beyond anything Malphas had encountered.
Malphas reached out to collect Valerius's departing soul, but the magic wrapped around it like iron chains, pulling it away from his grasp. He lunged forward, tendrils of shadow stretching desperately toward the soul that was rightfully his.
"No!" Malphas roared as Valerius's soul slipped through his fingers like smoke. "This soul is mine to collect!"
But the magic was too strong, too precisely woven. It tore Valerius's soul completely away from Death's reach with a violence that sent shockwaves through the spiritual realm. The soul crashed to the ground beside the gallows, still surrounded by that protective light.
Malphas watched as Valerius opened his eyes and stared upward at the two bodies swaying from the gallows. The soul was somehow aware, conscious, looking up at its own corpse from the ground below. Malphas frowned, confused by his inability to get close enough to claim what should have been his.
For the first time in his eternal existence, a soul meant for him had been stolen. There had been attempts before—desperate families, powerful sorcerers, ancient rituals—but no one had ever been strong enough to actually block him. Until now.
The old man who had worked the magic—Valerius's grandfather—collapsed among the crowd, the spell having consumed nearly everything he had left to give. Hovering between life and death, his eyes found Malphas across the spiritual divide, and in them was not triumph but sorrow.
"You won't get him today," the old man whispered directly to Malphas. He had known the spell would drain him to this point, known he might glimpse Death itself. "I may not have been able to save him from them, but I sure as hell can save him from you."
Then the old man's consciousness faded as the crowd rushed to help him, and the connection to the spiritual realm was severed. Leaving Malphas alone with his rage and the gaping hole where Valerius Ashford's soul should have been.
He had searched for six hundred years. Through plague and war and the slow turn of centuries, he had hunted the soul that had escaped him. Not out of malice—well, not entirely—but because the balance demanded it. Because souls that eluded Death created ripples in the fabric of existence itself. He could always feel when Valerius surfaced, sense his presence in the mortal realm, but the old magic had stayed intact all that time, keeping him just out of reach.
Until now.
And because the Council of Shadows had made it very clear that Malphas would face consequences if he didn't correct his failure. He needed to replace that soul with someone close to Valerius, but the demon had no dealings with his family any longer and never surfaced long enough to get attached to anyone.
But now something had changed. Valerius had been in the mortal realm for days, longer than ever before, which could only mean one thing—he had found someone worth staying for.
Present Day
The coffee shop was busy for a Tuesday afternoon, filled with the usual mix of college students and professors trying to caffeinate their way through another day. Malphas sat in the corner booth, invisible to mortal eyes, watching Julian Cross fidget nervously at a table near the window.
The boy was early, of course. People like Julian—desperate, lonely, starved for connection—always arrived early to meetings that mattered to them. He kept checking his phone, smoothing down his hair, adjusting his clothes with the kind of self-conscious anxiety that spoke of someone who still couldn't quite believe anyone would want to spend time with him.
But there was something different about him today. A subtle confidence that hadn't been there before, the way he held himself straighter, the faint glow to his skin. These weren't the changes Malphas had influenced—this was something else. Something that made his jaw clench with recognition.
After six centuries of hunting, he had finally tracked down the magical disturbance that had freed Valerius from the protective barriers. And it had led him here, to this unremarkable boy who somehow held the key to everything.
The coffee shop door chimed, and a young man with dark hair and easy confidence walked in, scanning the room until his eyes found Julian. Noah Hayes—the vessel Malphas had chosen for his first move. Art major, transfer from Columbia, the kind of effortlessly charming human that someone like Julian would never believe could be interested in him.
Except Malphas had made sure he was.
Julian's face lit up when he saw Noah approaching, a smile that transformed his entire appearance from forgettable to genuinely attractive. They exchanged greetings, Noah's warm laugh mixing with Julian's more hesitant responses, and settled into the kind of easy conversation that Malphas had carefully orchestrated.
It was working perfectly. The boy was practically glowing with happiness, and it surprised Malphas that someone could be this happy over something as simple as getting coffee with another person. Julian's desperate need for connection made him so beautifully vulnerable to manipulation. One attractive young man showing genuine interest, and the lonely boy was ready to believe his life was finally changing.
Malphas leaned back in his booth, satisfied. He didn't usually work like this—normally he came when death was near, collecting souls that were already departing. But this was under special circumstances, and required a different approach. This was how you claimed a soul when you had to create the conditions yourself—not through brute force, but by giving them exactly what they craved most, then taking it away when they were completely dependent on it. Julian's newfound happiness would make his eventual despair all the sweeter.
But as he watched Julian laugh at something Noah said, the hairs on the back of Malphas's neck prickled. Something else was here—something old and powerful, watching from the shadows.
Valerius materialized beside the window, his golden eyes fixed on Malphas with deadly intent. He looked exactly as he had six hundred years ago—aristocratic features, elegant horns, and an aura of barely contained power. But there was something new in his stance, a protective fury that spoke of a demon who had found something worth guarding.
"Stay away from him," Valerius said quietly, his voice carrying an edge that could cut steel.
Malphas smiled, not bothering to look away from Julian. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering when you'd show yourself."
"I said stay away from him."
"From who? The boy?" Malphas finally turned to meet those burning golden eyes. "Tell me, Valerius, what makes this particular mortal so special? I've been tracking the magical disturbance that freed you from your family's protection, and it led me right to him."
Julian laughed again, completely oblivious to the supernatural forces discussing his fate mere feet away. Noah was leaning forward, genuinely engaged in whatever Julian was saying about his art. It would have been touching, if it weren't entirely artificial.
"Since when did you start playing these types of games?" Valerius said, his golden eyes narrowing. "Your job is death. Why are you interfering in his life?"
"Because this isn't just any job," Malphas replied, his tone turning serious. "This is personal. And lonely souls are so easy to manipulate—give them a taste of what they've always wanted, and they'll do anything to keep it. But that still doesn't explain why you've been on the surface for days. That's not like you, old friend. What is it about this Julian Cross that's worth risking exposure?"
Valerius stepped closer, his protective instincts flaring. "That's none of your concern."
"Isn't it?" Malphas's smile widened. "I've spent six centuries hunting the soul that escaped me. Do you really think I'd give up now when I'm so close to something that affects you?"
"He doesn't affect me."
"No? Then what is he?" Malphas studied Valerius's expression, noting the possessive tension, the way the demon's eyes kept drifting to Julian. "Does he even know he broke your protection? Or the fact that you're the reason I can't seem to get close to him? You've already marked him, am I right?"
Valerius's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. His silence was confirmation enough.
Julian and Noah stood up from their table, still deep in conversation as they prepared to leave. Julian was glowing with happiness, completely unaware that his life had just become the center of an ancient supernatural conflict.
"Look at him," Malphas murmured. "So happy. So utterly unaware that he's caught between forces he can't begin to understand. I have to admit, he's more appealing when he's not wallowing in self-pity. No wonder you're drawn to him."
"Touch him," Valerius said quietly, "and I will remind you why demons were once feared by your kind."
"Will you?" Malphas chuckled. "Here? Now? In front of all these innocent mortals? In front of him? I doubt you're ready to shatter his illusions quite yet."
The accusation hit its mark. Valerius's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists, but he made no move to attack. Because Malphas was right—any display of supernatural power here would destroy whatever careful relationship Valerius was building with Julian.
"Besides," Malphas continued, "I don't need to touch him. I already have. Did you enjoy watching him smile? That was my gift to him. His first taste of genuine human connection, orchestrated by me. How do you think he'll feel when I take it away?"
Julian hugged Noah goodbye near the door, his face bright with genuine joy. It was clear the date had gone better than he'd ever dared hope.
"You may have escaped me once," Malphas said softly, his eyes never leaving Julian's retreating form. "Your family's old magic was powerful, I'll give them that. But this boy?" He gestured toward Julian, who was walking out into the afternoon sunlight, still smiling. "There's nothing stopping me from taking his soul. And when I do, it will hurt you in ways that simple death never could."
Valerius stepped forward, golden eyes blazing with fury. "I won't let you—"
But Malphas was already fading, his form dissolving like smoke. "Until next time, old friend. Give my regards to your little pet."
He vanished, leaving Valerius alone with the aftermath of their confrontation and the terrible knowledge that Julian was now a target in a war the boy didn't even know existed.
Valerius watched through the window as Julian walked across the quad, completely oblivious to the danger circling him. The demon's mind raced with possibilities, each more urgent than the last.
The careful seduction he'd planned would have to be accelerated. Julian needed protection, and Valerius was the only one who could provide it. But that meant revealing himself sooner than intended, risking Julian's rejection when the boy learned what he truly was.
Or it meant completing their bond tonight, before Malphas could make his next move.
Either way, the game had changed. Julian Cross was no longer just a lonely boy crying out for connection. He was now the most important piece on a supernatural chessboard, and Valerius would destroy anyone who tried to harm him.
Even if it meant damning them both.