His fingers tightened on the smooth wood. Each time a supernatural allied with Lucifer fought a demon it was an invaluable lesson for Satan’s followers. The knowledge the demons gained made the battles more difficult, more costly in terms of lives lost.
He had nearly lost his life twice to a demon’s deception. Ten of his men had died horribly before he beheaded the fiend. Stout men who had left families behind in England to sail with him and make their fortunes. Men who’d never return. While he had paid a blood tax to the families, Drake knew many of the women never forgave him for the loss of their husbands. A forgiveness he didn’t deserve because he knew.
Knew what he had dragged the men into. A war between brothers whose powers no human could fathom. Amina was part of that war and, though he didn’t understand his reasoning, he would not to lose her as he lost Caroline.
“Return to my cabin, Amina. I will deal with our guests. ”
Her amber eyes narrowed slightly before she tossed her head. The single braid whipped across her cheek. Her gaze was direct and, while not insulting, like her braid it was a sign of dismissal. “I will not hide in your cabin, Captain.”
Frustration coiled inside Drake and he motioned for Hodge to take the wheel. What needed to be said between him and his life mate was best done in private. He took a step toward her.
Leave her, Michael. This is what she was born to do. You must accept the Tamahaq as she is, or you and she will be in a constant state of war.
Raphael’s admonition rankled and Drake didn’t hide his anger. Amina’s defiance needed to be curbed. He wasn’t about to debate his authority on his ship with anyone. She was there to fulfill prophecy, not to command but to obey.
Sardonic amusement rippled across his mind. The archangel Michael.
Who else would find your childish tantrum a thing of laughter? Your misperceptions have confused your reason, Michael. The Tamahaq is not to command, but to consult. Once you wear your manhood like you wear your sword, you will learn what it means to be Amina’s life mate. Until then, you cannot win the war you wage.
Drake pinched his lips together and glanced at the sky. The sun was just making its presence felt. Trepidation settled in his belly, a cold finger of doubt, when black storm clouds swirled off in the distance and the water beneath his ship churned angrily, stirred by a malevolence he couldn’t see. Ominous clouds spun toward each other, like bits of lodestones drawn to iron. What finally took shape from the frenetic dance was a thick viscous mass heading toward the Phoenix, devouring what light stood in its path.
Furious waves dashed toward the ship, only to retreat. The pattern repeated for several minutes. The ship rocked precariously and Drake steadied himself. What am I seeing, archangel?
A silly game intended to instill terror and conceal what is hidden within the darkness.
The angel’s reply, as well as the malevolence scenting the air, warned Drake they faced no ordinary demonic attack. My men?
Raphael and I protect their minds. They sleep and will not awaken until we release them. A different abomination accompanies the demons, the undead. They are defeated in the same manner as demons. Be aware, Michael, their desire to live equals your own.
A moment’s hesitation hummed in Drake’s mind, increasing his anxiety. Archangel?
It was Raphael who spoke. Amina and Asiya have faced demons before, but they have never fought the undead although Amina has seen one. She often becomes recklessness. Do not allow her to forget who she is.
Drake arched an eyebrow and huffed. What makes you think she will listen to me, Raphael?
You are her chosen. She will heed you if you remind her what is at stake. Our presence will be concealed from the approaching demons. Protect the Tamahaq.
Drake stared at the sea, his body motionless while his mind examined the altered properties of the air and water. A smile formed on his lips. The pair of demons leading the assault weren’t very bright. The spell was easily reversed, almost child’s play. He focused on the small eddy at the center of the churning water. The turbulence slowed, smoothing into a glassy flatness. Child’s play.
Now, to deal with his reckless hawk. He moved to where she stood watching the darkness approach. She flicked a glance at him.
“What is it, dragon?” She asked before returning to observe the sea. “Have you come to ask my forgiveness? If so, I grant it.”
Drake buried the spurt of laughter that tried to escape. His hawk would not give an inch in a fight. He stared at her. She was so beautiful, and so fierce. His heart constricted at the thought he might lose her in battle. She is a warrior, he reminded himself.
“What are the undead?”
Amina’s shudder revealed far more than the stunned expression on her face, especially when her gaze swept past him to lock on the blackness hovering off the ship’s starboard side.
“Is that what hides in the darkness?” Before he could answer, she tensed and murmured, “Abominations.”
He laid his hand on her shoulder. She shook her head and stepped from his touch.
“Talk to me, hawk.”
She turned to face him. Weariness draped her shoulders before finding its way to her face. Drake reminded himself, despite her young age Amina had spent most of her life at war with demons.
“When my father attacked my mother’s people, he was aided by the living dead, men restored to life by demons to wage war on the humans who give protection to anyone allied with Lucifer. The living dead are easily returned to hell with fire.”
Amina’s eyes clouded with bitterness. “I joined a small band of desert warriors who waged war on white enslavers and the Moors who befriended them. We were captured and sold to de Zarate. The evening before he was to sail to America, de Zarate held a banquet for the Moorish sultan’s emissary. The demon Abdiel sat at the emissary’s table. A witch was brought into the chamber, a small boy at her side.”
Drake reached for Amina when her body began to violently tremble. She shook her head. Her fingers clenched her sword and she continued.
“The boy’s skin was pale, lacking any of the usual human colors. Even whiteness was darker than he, and his eyes were the color of a storm-tossed sea. The emissary beckoned the boy. As he approached, the boy’s eyes changed and became pale silver. His lips parted and fangs, sharp and thick like a dog’s, dropped from his teeth.”
She closed her eyes. “Abdiel summoned the boy’s mother. When she hesitated, the boy attacked, biting deeply into her neck and drinking his mother’s blood. He murdered his own mother.”
Amina wrapped her arms around her waist. “Demons are not known for their kindness, dragon, but this was cruelty beyond belief. Seconds passed and then his mother’s body twitched. She rose from death to stand next to her son. She smiled and fangs appeared in her mouth. Before she could attack anyone, Abdiel ordered her beheaded and her body burned.”
“We know our enemy,” Drake stated. “They are no match for a dragon and his hawk.”
He grinned as some of her apprehension drain from Amina’s body. She gazed at him, a hesitant smile on her lips. “No, they are not.”
Her glance dipped to his hips and her forehead creased, a worried look settling on her face. “You cannot fight them with steel weapons. Only silver can end a demon’s life. Even if you behead him or pierce his heart, your steel blade will not end his life.”
Drake grinned. “Forewarned is forearmed. Look carefully.”
Puzzled by his words, she examined his weapons more closely. “I didn’t have a chance against you, did I?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.
“No.”
“I won’t forget, dragon,” she said with a laugh and extended her right hand to him. “It will be an honor to fight at your side, Captain Drake.”
“For me as well, Tamahaq.” He stiffened when the black mass fully encircled the Phoenix. “Our enemy has arrived.”
“Lilith guard your back, dragon.”
Siya?
I am ready,
Mina. They will not harm you, but will attempt to force your recklessness in order to capture you. Use wisdom.
Asiya’s next thought was for Drake. Englishman, the demons are aware you and Mina are mated, and consider your life worthless. Do not let my sister’s bloodlust get you killed unless you have already gotten her with child.
A weighted pause filled the air before Asiya added, as I think on it, you’ll probably be the better parent. Stay alive, Captain.
Amina ignored the silent laughter at her expense and patted the dagger tucked inside her waistband. She strode in the direction of the forecastle where she took up a position. She glanced at Drake. He stood mid-center on the deck, sword and knife in hand.
The black cloud hovered off the starboard side, leaching the stench of death into the air. It was the same as the smell of the dead witch as she rose from the dead. The thought she might die scraped at the edges of her awareness. It was a familiar dread that nipped at her courage since she fought her father, the king. And then, as it always did just before a battle, her mother’s face surfaced in her mind and Amina latched onto the memory, swearing to avenge her death. Every demon vanquished brought her closer to the one responsible, Mephistopheles. Only his death would quench the anger and hatred she felt for all his kind.
Raphael.
Warrior.
Can you shed light on what your warrior is about to face? I wouldn’t want to mistakenly clip a wing in case you come between my sword and a demon’s head.
She felt the archangel’s laughter as streaks of light penetrated the darkness to reveal four creatures crawling over the railing and onto the deck. Amina shuddered at the translucent paleness of their flesh.
There are four undead, dragon.
One of the undead separated from the others and walked toward her. He looked to be a man, yet she sensed a mind much younger. Something about the undead was familiar and a prickly sensation raced down her spine. She peered at his features.
“Do you not recognize me, Tamahaq?”
Gray eyes, striated with blue, stared back at her. Amina scrutinized him for a second longer before she stepped back with a start. It was the boy who killed his mother, drinking her blood as she lay dying. He was just as beautiful as he had been as a child.
“Anselm.”
“You remember. I am pleased,” he said.
“I will never forget. You murdered your mother,” she said. “You drank her blood and smiled when the guard beheaded her.”
Anselm shrugged. “She served her purpose and there was no need to continue her existence. Did Marut not tell you the witch’s ancestress was a captured Tamahaq, raped by a Spaniard? It seems there are ties between us, although my mother was a mongrel and not the daughter of a king. It was fortunate she was a witch and therefore useful to my sire.”
“Why are you here?”
Anselm’s lips parted and his fangs dropped. “My king requires your body and soul whole since you are to become his queen. I am forbidden to drink your blood or harm you, Tamahaq. I don’t suppose you would forego battle and allow me to escort you to him?”
“Your life in the Spanish court has given you the semblance of courtesy, but not wisdom. I will never become Mephistopheles’ queen or have anything to do with djinns or their abominations.” Amina raised her sword and knife. “How do you wish to die?”
“I cannot die this day, my queen.”
“That is twice you’ve insulted me. I am not your queen,” she replied. “And you will die this day.”
Amina attacked when a sword appeared in Anselm’s pale hand. He was skilled, although he fought as the Spanish did. The undead’s movements were courtly, precise, and predictable. She had no trouble anticipating his next move and countered each blow or thrust. For a few minutes, she battled as if they were equals before she abruptly changed her style of fighting.
Surprise flickered in Anselm’s pale eyes when she nicked his forearm. “You really should seek out the Moors,” she taunted. “They are the true masters in the use of a sword.”
Anselm glared at her and stepped back, beyond the range of her blade. His gaze dropped to his forearm. He seemed fascinated with the wound, watching his blood dry and cake the linen sleeve. He raised his gaze to Amina’s face. “The undead heal quickly.”
Amina’s eyes never left Anselm’s face as she called to Drake. Dragon.
Yes, hawk?
It is foolish to engage the undead. They have healing powers. Kill them quickly.
She heard Drake’s sardonic chuckle in her mind. Your warning comes a bit late. Gerardo has suffered six fatal stab wounds and still fights.
Gerardo? No need to befriend him, just kill the filth.
She ended their connection, determined to put a quick end to her battle with Anselm. Two demons remained hidden in the darkness and she wanted their heads.
Anselm renewed his attack, driving her back toward the forecastle. He abruptly lowered his sword, took a step back, and stared at her. His lips creased as if to smile, a grotesque mockery on his otherwise beautiful face.
Unease flooded her and she swept her dagger from her waist seconds before he released his sword and launched himself at her, his fingernails lengthened like claws. Amina watched his approach, waiting until the right moment to strike. When Anselm bared his fangs, she raised her sword and swung, the blade slicing through his neck.
The undead dropped to his knees, his head attached to his neck by a thin shred of flesh. Blood spurted across the deck. Before the undead could heal himself, Amina stabbed the tip of her sword into his chest and twisted. His body jerked wildly.
“As I have told numerous of the demon king’s minions, I will never be a demon’s mate,” she hissed, before severing the filament that joined his head to his neck.
She watched Anselm’s head fall to the deck and roll toward the ship’s edge. The discordant thumping echoed across the forecastle until his head teetered in an opening between two ship’s rails. The undead’s surprise forever etched on his face, his head lingered precariously on the edge before it toppled into the ocean.
Amina turned to face the two undead who loitered near the ship’s railing.
“Are you prepared to join your friend?” She taunted.
The pair ignored her and ambled in Drake’s direction. One of the undead stumbled on the blood-soaked deck. Her breath hitched in her chest when the other creature moved into position to attack Drake’s unprotected back.
Fangs dropped and fingernails became claws seconds before the undead propelled himself into the air, a look of triumph on his bloodless face. Triumph quickly became surprise when he found himself impaled on Drake’s knife. Before the undead could react, Drake’s sword severed his head from his body.
Amina’s scream was silent, voiced only in her head. Attuned as he was to her, Drake turned away, seconds before the last undead reached for his neck. Vicious claws raked his shoulder as he rolled away from his attacker, blood spurting from the wound.
He ignored his injury and slashed at the undead’s knee. The creature’s legs buckled and he fell to the deck, his head and chest exposed. His death came quickly.
“Hawk, behind you.”
Drake took a step toward her. She knew what he saw and shook her head. No, dragon, this is my fight. The other demon is slithering down the mizzenmast. Siya will look to your back.
Amina shifted her sword to her right hand and rubbed her left hand against her trousers to remove the sweat. Her expression grim despite the faint smile on her lips, she returned the sword to her left hand.
“Asael. Have you returned for additional instructions? How long did it take your worthless master to save your head when you were staked in the Sahara?”
Asael glared at her and shrugged. “My sire desires you as a consort despite your barbaric ways. Perhaps time in his company will civilize you.”
Amina gazed at the white-skinned demon. Their color made it easier for demons to live among the Europeans. “Consort to Mephistopheles? I t
hink not. That you are here means you have grown weary of life as a slave, or that your master continues to suffer the delusion common to the Fallen. I refuse the dog whose tail you sniff.”
Asael snarled and raised his sword. Sunlight glimmered on the deadly blade and Amina squinted. She adjusted her position and waited.
“Did the king not want you alive you would be dead, Moor,” the demon declared.
Amina laughed. “Therein lies your error. Haven’t you learned the Tamahaq is no Moor?” she asked before attacking.
Asael easily deflected the blow. Having fought the demon before she toyed with him. Her mental shields held when he fired a sharp pain at her mind. “Is that the best you can do, Asael?” she teased. “It is no surprise you remain a minor lackey to do your master’s bidding.”
His growl confirmed her insult had touched a demonic nerve, and she responded to a flurry of angry slashes. Amina searched for the familiar weaknesses in the demon and found none. Asael had become more adept since she last fought him. Her skills also had gotten better and she intended to return his head in a sack to his master.
Asael abruptly stopped fighting and stepped away from her. She didn’t hide her confusion when his sword lowered as if calling a momentary truce. The demon’s dark eyes brightened.
“How important is the Englishman to you, my queen? Are you willing to be the cause of his death?”
Amina’s gaze followed Asael’s sword as it swung in the direction of Drake. Her swift intake of air did not escape the demon’s notice.
“Tadiel is more formidable than Marut. If the human is your chosen mate and you want him to live, you will submit to prophecy and my liege.”
Part of Amina’s mind focused on Drake and the second demon, though her eyes never left Asael. Her life mate bled from several wounds to his chest and arm, and the loss of blood was taking its toll on his strength. She flinched when he stumbled and Tadiel’s sword nicked his cheek.
Asael’s mouth curved into a smug grin. “Your captain cannot defeat Tadiel. If you value the Englishman’s life, you will surrender.”
Amina remained silent, her heart torn, as her mind followed the other demon’s methodical attack on Drake.
Fate's Match Page 10
