Magnussen Sherlock Novels & Stories

Second time tonight, no relief. "Have you seen him? I thought he'd be here." That's Magnus's voice. My guess is they're probably looking for me. I contemplate sneaking out or hiding, but my door is thrown open. " He's here Jesse." I smile at Sherlock over here then go to Jesse. He still looks out of it. "Where were you?" "You puked on my shirt remember? I came here to change, and then I got this terrible headache. I've been searching for painkillers since." Jesse believes me, Magnus doesn't. I don't care because I don't have to prove myself to him.

The pack members gathered outside the square, there was tension in the air, my heart pounded in my chest matching the echoing howls that surrounded us. A knot tightened in my stomach as everyone's gaze fell on Magnus. The accused stood at the center. His black hair fell over his face, covering most of his features, his gray eyes that always glistened now looked dull by the weight of accusation.

Hard to tell sometimes. Remus's gaze flicked to Magnus, still engrossed in his phone, oblivious to his presence in the room. What secrets lay hidden beneath his clothes? For over 90 years, through battles and wars, Magnus had never once revealed his spirit guide, his tattoo. Not even to Remus, his most trusted confidant. It remained an enticing mystery, much like the man himself.

The mention of her reminded me of what happened the previous night and I found myself clenching my fists. 'That Aria was so going to get it from me.' I thought, deciding not to take the bait Magnus was throwing at me. It was money time not Pussy time. "Why is this dude still here?" I inquired instead and Magnus' eyes immediately darkened. "I feel like something is off about the goods." He answered and I furrowed my brows at him. "How?" "First of all, this dude here keeps shivering like a dog caught up in the rain." He pointed at the delivery guy and he was right.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m Magnus Tucker. I know Celestina.” “Yeah. She just told me.” Maverick gripped my arm as she stared at me, hope filling her eyes. “Let him in.” “Wait a minute, Mrs. Winston.” Homer took a picture of him. “Let me identify if he’s saying the truth.” “We’re wasting our time,” he said. “Hey. Back away. Let my men do the job.” Then I remembered something. “Hold on. You’re Magnus Tucker? London’s psychopathic ex.” He shrugged. “I’m a reformed man. Trust me, I’ve learned a lot here working with Don Gaetano. I’m his private accountant.”

[Sydney] At dawn, Magnus left our bedroom in a huff, throwing on a pair of slacks and grabbing a jacket from the closet. He usually is more mindful of his appearance, but an alert on his phone stole the color from his cheeks. "There's been a breach," he announces. "I'll take care of it." He returned an hour later, sweaty and angry. "They got away," he announced, throwing his phone on the nightstand as he pulled off his clothing with jagged motions, tearing the seam of his coat. "They must be working with HER."

“There is no disruption to the company’s work.” The assistant hesitated for a moment. “And the journalists downstairs?” Sarah’s expression hardened slightly. “They can wait,” she said simply. Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Magnus stood near the window of his apartment, staring down at the street below while holding his phone. The morning had barely begun when the call came. The number displayed on his screen belonged to someone he had spoken to only once before. Inspector Caleb Pierce. Magnus answered the call calmly. “Magnus Hale speaking.”

"Alpha Magnus has rival. Young wolf named Connor. Strong, popular, threatening Magnus's position." "And Magnus wants him eliminated?" "Framed and imprisoned. Same methodology we used with Callum Brennan. Fabricate evidence, ensure conviction, remove threat permanently." Harborough shows me the proposed evidence. "Murder of human, embezzlement of pack funds. Standard charges." "How much is Magnus paying?" "Twenty thousand pounds. Plus favors to be determined later." I review the documents. The fabrication is professional. Mrs. Blackwood's work again. She's excellent at creating false financial trails.

A high central fire. The smell of meat cooking, smoke, leather, iron. The mark under my skin stirred like it recognized the place. I had to force my face to stay blank. Then he stepped from a shadowed tent, and the mark didn’t just stir - it listened. Magnus. Tall. Pale hair bound at his nape. Eyes too calm, too calculating. He wore no armor, only a dark shirt and a long coat, like he didn’t need armor. Maybe he didn’t. Power sat on him like a second body.

Stubborn bastard. Niccolo pulled his phone out of his pocket. "I think he knows her sister's address. Or he met David, Kel's brother-in-law." "Magnus knows Jill?" I clasped my phone, my voice heavy with resignation. "How? A hacker?" "Or he hired PIs." Well, it wasn't that hard to find some good ones in America. "Why's he so sure it was really him? He hasn't even met Pappa." "You don't know Magnus. Guy's got tricks up his sleeve, and money."