Return of the Hunters (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 4)

by Sonya Bateman

  The Duchene girl stood, swaying with the motion of the train. “Whoa, cher. Easy,” she said as she approached me, then called to her right. “Rex, grab me a cup of water.”

  I hadn’t even seen the other figure sitting at the table against the far wall, past the foot of the bunks. He detached from the shadows and slipped through a door at the corner of the room, which I assumed was a bathroom. There was a second door between the bathroom and the chair the girl had occupied that must lead out of the room.

  So I’d take door number two. As soon as I could stand.

  The girl knelt beside the bunk and took something out of her pocket. A small envelope. I didn’t think much of it until Rex came out with a paper cone of water—and she tore the envelope open and poured dull red powder into the water.

  I pushed back against the wall, moaning a little as my stomach revolted. “Get that shit away from me,” I gasped.

  She frowned. “It’s a remedy.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Suit yourself.” She shrugged, glanced at Rex, and he vanished into the bathroom again. “In a few minutes, you gonna burn like the sun, and your guts’ll turn inside out and bring up whatever’s in you,” she said. “It’ll scrape you raw. Then you—”

  “All right,” I managed. I still wanted to refuse, but I could already feel the fever rising and fresh sweat dripping down my back. She wasn’t lying about that, at least. With a mental note to never accept a drink from a Duchene after this one, I held out a shaking hand.

  “Better let me help you, cher.”

  “Fine.” I sighed and eased closer to the edge of the bed. “And then you’ll tell me what the hell’s going on, and why I’m on a goddamned train headed fuck knows where. Right?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “How about your name, then?”

  She cast her eyes down. “Senobia.”

  “Senobia. I’m Gideon.”

  “I know.” She lifted a hesitant smile and slipped a hand behind my head. “Try not to spill any, hear?”

  I gave a faint nod. With her help, I managed to drink most of the stuff, though it made me want to gag. It tasted like blood and chalk. I coughed and shivered as it went down my throat, and pressed my lips tight to keep from spitting half of it back up. Eventually my body stopped trying to reverse its functions.

  Senobia lowered me gently to the mattress. Rex emerged with a handful of damp paper towels, and she took a few from him and wiped my sweat-soaked face and neck. “You gonna feel better in a minute,” she said. “I’ve got another dose, if you need it.”

  “No, thanks.” If I tried to get any more of that stuff down, I’d choke. Fortunately my stomach was already settling closer to normal, and some of the cotton thickness had eased from my mouth. “How about just plain water?”

  Rex moved closer to me, quirking a half-smile. “Best not, hoss,” he said. “You’ll want an hour or so before you put anything else in your mouth. You ain’t got through the shakes yet.”

  “Great.” I closed my eyes briefly, trying to dismiss the trembling in my hands as brought on by the suggestion. “Any other side effects I should know about?”

  “Well, you might turn into a frog.”

  “Rex!” Senobia shot him an irritated glare.

  “What? He might.” The smile stayed, but his eyes didn’t reflect it. “Oh, and you’ll never trust a Duchene again,” he said. “Story of our lives. Right, Nobi?”

  “Hush.” This time her irritation held a trace of affection, and she shook her head sadly. “Sorry about this. But you’ll be fine,” she said to me. “A little rest, and you’re right as rain.”

  “Yeah. Except for being drugged and kidnapped,” I muttered. “Do you want to tell me what the hell this is about? Rex?”

  His easy smile fell away. “Maybe I’d best get Denei.”

  Just then, the center door across the room opened and Denei stepped through, with Reun right behind her. I caught a glimpse of a suite on the other side of the door, a mirror image of this one, before it rattled shut. Denei still looked miserable, but there was a wary edge to her expression. Like she expected me to attack any second.

  I might have, if I thought I could move without throwing up.

  Before I could ask any of the hundred questions burning my tongue, Denei approached me with grim determination. As Rex and Senobia parted like reeds, she caught my gaze and said, “You made me a promise, a while back. Now it’s time to keep it.”

  “What…”

  “DeathSpeaker, I call your favor.” Her eyes blazed from her set features. “You’re going to save Zoba’s life, and set us all free.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The instant Denei spoke, there was a sharp pain in my chest. Like someone had scraped a hot blade along the inside of my ribcage and carved an X there.

  “Jesus Christ,” I gasped, clutching at the throbbing spot like an old man with a bad pacemaker. “What the hell did you do to me now?”

  She looked stunned. “I didn’t—”

  “A’stohr.” Reun laid a gentle hand on her arm and stepped forward, regarding me somberly. He almost looked like he might cry. But it didn’t make me want to hurt either of them any less. “It is the gealdht,” he said. “Your promise made manifest. The pain will pass.”

  What promise? I almost screamed. But all at once, I remembered.

  Goddamn it. I had made her a promise.

  The Duchenes and I hadn’t started out on the same side. In fact, the first time I met them, they’d beaten the shit out of me, six on one. Tried to shake me down for something I didn’t even have and wouldn’t have given them if I did. But not long after, we’d joined forces to fight a common enemy—Milus Dei. And during the fight, Denei and Zoba had saved everyone’s lives when they found out the building we were in was rigged to explode, and got us out before the bombs went off.

  Denei had cornered me after the escape and demanded that I repay her for it. Nothing exact. She’d just made me promise to do her a favor sometime. I agreed, mostly because I had more important things on my mind at the time. Like surviving.

  Back then, I had no idea how serious promises were to the Fae. Now I knew that I had to keep it.

  Or die trying.

  I was so furious, I could barely speak. “Probably something simple. A little blood, a lock of hair,” I ground out. “That’s what you said to me, when I asked what favor you wanted. You said, ‘We’d never ask for anything you couldn’t give us.’ Remember? Because I damned well do.” I forced myself to sit up, gripping the edge of the bunk as a buzzing swell of dizziness washed through me. “You just handed me a death sentence.”

  Denei shivered. “Gideon, wait. Let me explain—”

  “You could’ve just asked for my help!” The effort of shouting pounded dully through my head. “I would have done it, or at least tried to, whatever it is,” I rasped. “Without drugging me. Without a promise that’s going to kill me if anything goes wrong. For Christ’s sake, Reun, at least you should’ve known that much!”

  He opened his mouth, closed it. At last he said, “You do not understand.”

  “You know what? Right now, I don’t want to understand.” My jaw clenched, and I stared at the floor. If I looked at any of them, I’d be sick all over again. “Get the hell away from me,” I said. “All of you.”

  I was too pissed off to be grateful that everyone left without another word.

  It was damn near an hour before I could calm down enough to think straight.

  By then I was feeling physically better, at least. I got up and made my way to the little bathroom, pausing every time the train lurched and sent my guts spinning again. Once I got a few small cups of water down me and made sure they wouldn’t come back up, I returned to the room and sat at the table, trying to take stock.

  I still didn’t know where we were going. They’d hauled me out with no warning—I didn’t have my phone, my wallet, my keys, any of my weapons, or even a change of clothes. I was
saving Zoba’s life, but I had no idea from what. Let alone how to ‘free’ them.

  So I guessed I’d have to talk to them after all. But when this was over, I was done.

  If I lived through it.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there when the door to the room opened. “Fuck off,” I said without looking up.

  “Not this time, handsome. We need to talk, and you need to listen.”

  I let out a frustrated breath and watched Denei come in. Zoba shuffled carefully behind her, and Reun followed with a hand pressed to the base of his spine—as if he’d snap in half without the support. When they reached the table, Zoba slid onto the bench next to me.

  That, I didn’t mind. He was the only one in the room I didn’t want to strangle.

  Denei and Reun sat across from us, and I glared at both of them. “You want to talk? Start by telling me where you’re taking me.”

  “New Orleans,” Denei said. “And if you shut up and listen, I’ll answer all your questions before you ask them.”

  “I doubt that. But fine. I’m listening.”

  She squared her shoulders and drew a breath. “The one we serve, our master,” she said. “He’s called Papa Legba.”

  Great. The one thing I’d actually heard of in voodoo. “The god of the crossroads,” I said. “So I’m supposed to free you from the devil?”

  “I said he’s called that. But he ain’t no loa. Not a god.” Her eyes narrowed briefly. “He does take souls, though. That’s what our little…pets are for. When Legba’s children die, the ver-géant tears loose and returns to him, carrying the soul with it—along with all the knowledge that soul’s gathered in a lifetime. And we cain’t just cut them out,” she said with a stern glance at Zoba. “No matter how many protection spells we cast. Those beasties, they’re dug into our nerves and our brain stems like ticks.”

  I suppressed a shudder. “So you’ve all got one of those things in you?”

  She nodded slowly. “They sleep, most times. But he knows if one of ’em wakes up…if one of his children tries to tamper with it. And that child is punished.” A haunted expression settled on her face. “This here’s the second time Zoba’s tried. The first time—”

  Zoba cut her off with an explosive, guttural sound.

  “All right, brother.” Her features closed off. “Anyway, this time we’ve all been summoned,” she said. “And we think Legba means to kill him. That’s where you come in.”

  I had to force back a renewed flood of fury. “How?” I said. “Christ, if you think Fae magic can stop this guy, you’ve got Reun. Him and Taeral are both a hell of a lot older and stronger than me. I’m a half-breed, and practically a baby by Fae standards, and I’m not that great with magic.”

  “Yeah, but neither of them are the DeathSpeaker,” she said. “You are.”

  “That only helps if he’s already dead!”

  “He is.” Denei laced her hands together tightly and stared at me. “Papa Legba, he’s nothin’ but thousands of souls all stuck together. Dead souls. And you command the dead,” she said. “So all you gotta do is command him to set us free, before he kills Zoba.”

  “Is that all,” I murmured weakly. Thousands of souls. Christ, what kind of monster was this guy? But at least I could admit that maybe, just maybe, I had a chance of surviving this. If he really was dead. “Like I said, though, you could’ve just asked me,” I said. “I would’ve helped. Without the threat of imminent death.”

  “A gealdht does more than risk a Fae’s life,” Reun said. “The spell is a balance. By calling your favor, she’s given you an advantage—the closer you are to realizing the promise, the stronger you’ll become against the challenge. Just as magic weakens when the goal of a promise is further away.” He tipped his head back for a moment, and added, “Believe me. We’ll need every possible advantage in dealing with Legba.”

  That, I definitely believed.

  CHAPTER 7

  It was a thirty-hour train ride from New York to New Orleans. I’d been out cold for three of those hours, and then spent two more recovering and finding out exactly how screwed this whole thing was. That left me with twenty-five hours to kill.

  And I wasn’t going to spend them in a confined space with Denei and Reun.

  Right now I was rooming with Zoba, Rex and Senobia, while the scheming duo holed up with the other two Duchenes in the next room. Zoba sprawled on the lower bunk, exhausted and glassy-eyed, and the two youngest had squeezed together on the top bunk. They’d offered the other bed to me, but I assured them I’d rather sleep in the chair.

  Not that I was getting any sleep.

  For a while I just sat there, watching the unfamiliar scenery rush past. I’d been to Louisiana plenty of times—mucked around the swamps and bayous and backwater shanty towns while the family I’d never belonged with hunted gators and bobcats and endangered Louisiana black bears. But I hadn’t been to the Big Easy. The Valentines couldn’t set foot in any major city. They were wanted for just about every crime on the books, and probably some that no one else had ever thought of committing. Hell, they’d made the FBI’s Most Wanted list for the past twenty years.

  Of course, that didn’t mean I wanted to see New Orleans by way of kidnapping.

  Eventually I decided to do something other than fail to fall asleep. My options were limited. If not for the promise, I’d be finding a way off this damned train right now. I thought about looking for something to eat, but my gut still didn’t feel right. Besides, it was the middle of the night, so the dining car would be closed.

  There was a closet-sized shower in the suite’s bathroom. Maybe that would relax me enough to sleep for a few hours.

  I got up and wandered into the bathroom. Took a few tries to lock the door, and then I had to sit on the closed toilet to undress in the cramped space. It wasn’t long before I realized my plan was the opposite of relaxing. Taking a shower on a moving train was about as easy as running up a down-moving escalator while carrying live snakes.

  After I managed to soak pretty much everything in the room but myself, I gave up and rummaged a towel from the metal cabinet under the sink. I’d just dried off and put my pants back on when someone tried to open the bathroom door. And succeeded.

  The unfriendly warning died on my lips when I got a look at Zoba’s face, and his two-seconds-from-puking expression.

  I rammed the toilet lid up and pressed myself against the shower door, giving him as much room as possible. His fevered gaze caught mine just before he dropped to his knees like a stone. He bent his head, and what came out of his mouth in a violent gout looked like about a gallon of blood.

  That couldn’t be a good sign.

  He stayed in place, retching miserably, but at least nothing else came up. If that really was blood, he couldn’t have much left to lose. I eased around him to the sink and wet a hand towel with warm water, then crouched awkwardly next to him and moved to wipe him off a little. He was sweating buckets.

  His arm shot out, and he grabbed my wrist hard. And I was suddenly reminded how strong he was. Even in this state, he could break my bones if he squeezed a little harder.

  “Hey, man. It’s just water,” I said carefully. “Let me help you.”

  He shuddered all over. Then his iron grip relaxed, and he grunted assent.

  I managed to mop off his face and the back of his neck. He was already damp with sweat again by the time I finished, but at least it wasn’t running down him in rivers. He pushed himself upright on his knees, and I helped him over to the sink and filled a paper cone with water. “You’ll want to rinse your mouth out,” I said. “Can you do it, or…”

  He nodded and took the cup. His hand only trembled a little.

  While he finished, I kicked the loose stuff on the floor aside—including my only shirt, which was now soaked. And I was standing here with all my scars exposed. I would’ve been pissed off about that, if I thought Zoba was in any condition to notice.

  As it was, I had to won
der if he’d even live until we got to New Orleans. That was a hell of a lot of blood.

  I flushed the mess away, closed the toilet lid and rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. He was rigid as stone. “Think you should probably lie down,” I said. “I’ll help you back out there, all right?”

  He lifted his head slightly. And someone pounded on the bathroom door.

  “What the hell you doing in there?”

  Denei’s angry voice didn’t exactly improve my mood. “Back off,” I shouted. “We’re coming out, and you need to be out of the way.”

  Without bothering to wait for a reply, I slid an arm around his waist and shuffled him to the door, then through. I didn’t look at anyone as we moved to the bunk, but I sensed that the rest of them had piled into the suite. From listening to the youngest ones talk, I knew the other two Duchenes were named Bastien and Isalie. I still hadn’t met them officially.

  Now wasn’t the time to do that.

  Zoba had regained a little strength and managed to clamber onto the lower bed himself. I grabbed the top rail for balance, not lifting my head to see if Rex and Senobia were gawking at me like I figured they were, and said without turning, “Get out.”

  “Not until I check on my brother.”

  At least Denei didn’t sound angry anymore. But her gentled tone did nothing to cool my burning blood. Zoba was too out of it to pay attention to what was under my shirt—but the rest of them weren’t. “Goddamn it, get out,” I snarled. “Or turn away, until I can get in the bathroom. By the way, thanks for dragging me fifteen hundred miles away from home with nothing but the clothes on my back, in the middle of winter.”

  “Gideon…”

  That was Reun. All choked up, like he was about to be sympathetic. “Not a word from anyone. I mean it,” I said. “Just shut up and back off.”