Mara cursed herself for the day Duel had captured hers. It’d been her own arrogant stupidity that hadn’t believed him capable of knowing its significance.
In all these centuries, she’d never known how it was that he’d learned the carefully guarded Deruvian secret.
Now she did.
He was one of them. Which meant he had a harthfret, too. And if she could find it …
Then he would be hers to command for all eternity.
* * *
“So, you didn’t lie. How ever did you manage to get one of his ilk here?”
Vine smiled at the dark Seraphia who stood before her. Clad in the ancient bloodred armor her species had once donned for battle, Gadreyal was a winged beauty of extreme and utter grace. Tall. Sleek. Voluptuous. It was easy to see why she was the first among those sent to tempt the army of the Kalosum to their downfall.
And as a member of that same loathsome, sanctimonious army, Paden shrank away from her approach. He cringed even more as Gadreyal reached for him. “Don’t touch me!”
His Seraph form activated, turning his hair instantly white and causing his own wings to spring out of his back. The golden feathers extended out and slashed at them both.
Laughing, Gadreyal caught one of his wings and snapped it. The sound of breaking bone was harsh even to Vine.
Paden cried out and arched his back against the pain.
With a fake, sympathetic tsk, Gadreyal cradled his head against her shoulder, exposing his throat. “There now, little one. Don’t come at your betters. I’m not one of the halflings or mickles you’ve been fighting.” She ran her silver talon over his Adam’s apple. “And I can make all this misery go away in an instant. All you have to do is give me your vow of loyalty. Fight for us and I’ll free you.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “Never!”
“Awww.” She mocked his pain with a treble note. “Poor little Seraph. All alone in this hole. No one to care for you. To rescue you. Do you really think the Sarim will come? That my brother cares what happens to you? I promise Gabriel laughs at your suffering. Michael even more so.”
“I will not turn.”
“Aye, you will,” Gadreyal whispered in his ear. “And you will cut the throat of your own sister to give me that medallion before all is over, too. Trust me, little man. Far greater warriors than you have fallen to my wiles.” She kissed his cheek and stepped away.
Her gaze turned bright red as she closed the distance between her and Vine. “You should leave now, Deruvian. I will take it from here.”
“What of my reward?”
Gadreyal smiled coldly. “I haven’t forgotten. The moment I have his medallion and his soul, you will be freed. That is what we do.”
* * *
Thorn felt the shift in the air around him and knew instantly what caused it. Fury spread through his veins like lava, demanding satisfaction.
And blood.
“Misery!” He summoned his demon companion from her hole. Honestly, he should have killed her long ago. She was a feckless bitch who could never be trusted for anything.
Other than sheer treachery.
Which was why he trusted her. Because he knew better, and therefore she was incapable of betraying him. His guard never laxed around her.
She appeared before him with an irritated grimace. “You shouted, my rampaging overlord?”
“What are your sisters up to?”
Shrugging, she started to leave, but he caught her wrist and jerked her back toward him.
“Don’t play this game with me, Misery. Or I’ll make you earn that name.”
Fear replaced her smug expression as she saw the face of Forneus and realized the tenuous ground she stood upon. For all her arrogance, she was his slave and at his utter mercy.
Something he ran very short on, especially when it came to creatures like her.
She gulped before she gave up her answer. “They have the spawn of Michael.”
“Tell me where he is.”
Shaking her head, she pulled away from him and went to cower in a corner of his study. “I don’t know.”
Thorn reached for her, which caused the shadows that were concealing her to shrink away and leave her exposed to his gaze. Even they knew not to tempt him when he was in this mood. No one, other than his own father, dared his wrath when he was like this.
Squeaking, she tried to teleport out of his study, but he used his powers to trap her here.
“Don’t, Misery. Just don’t.”
She visibly shook as she sprang to her feet and moved to put a chair between them. “I swear to the Source, I have no idea. They … they know I serve … that I’m bound to you. T-t-there’s only so much they’ll say in my presence.”
He threw his arm out and drew her to him so that he could wrap a single hand around her throat. Not tightly, but enough to remind her of how much power and how little regard he had where her life was concerned. “I hate you for what they did to me. Do you understand?”
She nodded eagerly.
“I should never have been conceived or born. And I begrudge all of you every single breath I’ve ever drawn. For that alone, it’s a daily struggle not to kill you.” He tightened his grip to let her know how serious he was. “You will find the Seraph they hold before he’s turned or I will spend the rest of eternity going to bed to the sounds of your screams for mercy. Do you understand that?”
“I understand, my lord.”
“Good. Now go!” He cast her away from him and watched as she scrambled from his study.
Fury pounded through his veins so vehemently that it caused his own wings to jut out. His skin turned the vibrant gold he resented even more. Ever since the day he’d learned who and what he really was.
How his mother had come to spawn him …
Damn them all to the fiery pits!
“Forneus?”
Great. That was just the maggot-licking bastard he needed to suffer in this mood. What? Were the gods really that bored?
Reining in his temper as best he could, he turned to find the last creature he wanted to face.
Second only to his father.
Folding his wings down, Thorn crossed his arms over his chest. “Michael … been a while.”
Seven feet in height, he was a massive bastard. Whereas most of the Seraphim were pretty enough to pass as women, Michael was ruggedly handsome. No one would ever mistake him for a Seraphia. And in his Seraph form, he was snow white—armor, weapons, every part of him.
Even his eyes were a stark silvery blue.
So it was always shocking to Thorn how dark the tool was whenever he donned a more human appearance. Dark hair, tanned skin. The only thing that remained the same were those celestial blue eyes that glittered like spiked icicles in front of a setting sun.
And they had the same effect today that they always did on him.
He wanted to punch the sanctimonious bastard in the face.
“What are you doing here, Mikey? Last I heard, none of you would sully yourself by crossing the boundary into this dimension.”
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“No. I have something that belongs to your bloodline and I promised her that I’d return it. So sod off.”
Michael let out a tired sigh. “You can’t help it, can you?”
“What?”
“Being a complete and utter asshole.”
Thorn smirked. “What can I say? I take after my father.”
“You know, throwing him in my face is a really bad idea. You weren’t there that day in battle. You’ve no idea what it feels like to have the person beside you—the one whose back you’ve protected for centuries—turn their sword on you. To look into the eyes of a friend and see an enemy. It’s a special level of hell I wouldn’t wish even on you. And when we look at you, we see your father and remember he was one of us once. Until he got crossed up with his own siblings.”
Rubbing at the bridge of his nose wi
Michael rolled his eyes. “And that nasty attitude doesn’t help us get past our natural distaste for you. Any more than the fact that, at the end of the day, we all know you turned on your own men and brutally slaughtered them.”
Thorn arched a brow at that. “I didn’t turn on my men. I gave them a choice before I declared war.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
“No, arseling! Big. Futtocking. Difference. I turned on my father once I learned of his lies—same as all of you. There’s no difference whatsoever there. Then, I gave every sword under my command an opportunity to either fight with me for a new cause or to be on the receiving end of my skills. Those stupid enough to choose my father were given a head start before I went after them. I never put anyone down without allowing them their chance to change, which is more than any of you ever offered me.”
“What about your son?”
Thorn hissed as the demon inside him exploded and took over completely. For a moment, he almost went at Michael’s throat—which was probably what the bastard wanted.
But he roped the dragon down and forced it into submission. His breathing ragged, he glared at him. “Never speak of Cadegan again, or I will slit you from asshole to appetite.”
Michael held his hands up in surrender. “You’ve put together teams of demons. Released on parole in all corners of the world. Living side by side with unsuspecting humans. Do you really think we’re all right with what you’re doing?”
“I’m redeeming the damned. Giving them another chance to learn from their mistakes and make something of their lives and eternity. Is that not what we’re supposed to do? Is that not what all of you have preached since the beginning of time? To protect the innocent from those who prey upon them?”
Michael scoffed at him. “It’s the ones you’ve chosen as their guardians we take issue with. These aren’t the souls of those who were borderline damned. You’ve chosen some of the blackest souls ever spat out from the farting abyss of hell itself. Have you any idea what you’ve released back into the world? Especially with this latest batch of … What are they calling themselves? Deadmen?”
“Jackdaw flies with jackdaw.”
“More like the vultures circle together.”
“Whatever. The Cimmerian Magnus has a team to tempt saints to be sinners. I figure it’s only fair we have a team to tempt the sinners back to saints. Balance. If anyone in the universe should appreciate that … should be you, Mikey.”
Michael stepped back with a frown. “When you put it that way, what you’re doing almost makes sense.” Yet after a second, he shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re on the same side. How is this even possible?”
Thorn snorted. “Does this mean you’re going to help me now? Are we friends … lovers?”
“You’re such a sarcastic wanker.” He growled deep in his throat. “While I don’t trust you, I do commend you. And I hope you don’t live to regret what you’re doing.”
Thorn didn’t comment. The only things he’d ever regretted had to do with his son and the woman who’d birthed Cadegan. To this day, they were the only ones he’d ever loved.
The only ones who’d ever gutted him.
“Just so you know … the reason I came? Because of what’s happened with the Carian Gate and with your swift actions that helped hold back what’s been unleashed so far—”
“Excuse me? I believe the correct words you’re looking for are Thank you, Thorn, for saving our asses when we got caught with our britches down.”
Michael cleared his throat before he continued on without acknowledging Thorn’s interruption. “We decided to stop being so adversarial toward you and yours. From now on, whenever your Hellchasers need backup, they can call on our earthbound Necrodemians. Either they, or we, will answer your miscreants.”
“Really? Hell froze over?”
“Not yet. But one of its main gates is fractured. So long as there’s no similar rebellion of your troops, we will back you in this fight.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
“I believe the words you’re seeking are Thank you, Michael. We could use the help and appreciate it.”
“And you’ll hear those words from me the day Lucifer’s cock rots off from frostbite.”
Michael let out an annoyed sigh. “I so miss these conversations with you. Like having my head drilled and skull pried open.” Wrinkling his brow, he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as if their exchange was giving him the same migraine currently thumping through Thorn’s head. “One last thing. The gate? It’s located in the Quella.”
Thorn winced at the mention of the chain of notorious islands. They should have known. “Of course it is. And which fun island holds the honor? Oh wait, let me guess. It wouldn’t be the one inhabited by pissed-off dragons. They’d only eat us, and there’s no fun in a quick death. Or the island of demons, because that would be too routine, and half of Bane’s crew would be delighted since they, including Bane himself, would consider it a buffet they could gorge on. Nor the land of the seven giants … because, again, death would be too quick and painless for them. Nay. This fun-filled adventure could only be found on Meropis. Am I warm?”
“Your deductive reasoning impresses me.”
Thorn scoffed. “How ’bout I do you one better, then? Out of all the places they could have planted that gate, they put it squarely on that one island—bet I can actually peg the correct lost and abandoned city where it’s housed … Anostos.” So named because it literally meant No Return.
“Again, you astound me.” His voice matched Thorn’s level of sarcasm.
“I hate you so much, Michael.”
The Seraph leaned forward to playfully slap at his cheeks. “Back at you, demon.” And with that, he vanished.
Thorn didn’t move as he considered this strange turnaround. It wasn’t like the Sarim to reconsider anything they did. And especially never their attitudes on a matter.
Or a person.
The Sarim were forever right in all things.
Everyone else was wrong. Always.
But in this, they’d reversed course and come around to his line of defense. More than that, they agreed with him and were willing to aid his cause.
That … that actually scared the flaming shit out of him.
The world really was coming to an end. He just hoped he’d chosen the right side to be on.
Maybe I ought to rethink a visit to good old Dad.…
12
Mara stretched as she resumed a human form. They were far out to sea now. Santiago still trailed after them, but, at Du’s insistence, at a safe distance.
She pulled up short at the sight of food someone had left for her in her room.
Nay, not someone. Only Du ever did that. She’d never been quite certain how he knew when she’d be resuming her human skin, yet he always did.
Because he’s Deruvian, too.
He must be able to sense her moods the same way she sensed them in others of her kind. And yet, she’d never once had an inkling that he was one of them.
Of course, she hadn’t looked for it either.
Still …
She scowled as her gaze dropped to a small box he’d left next to the tray of food. It was set upon a folded note. Scoffing at whatever he had to say, she opened the box, then sat down promptly in her chair as her legs gave way from the shock of what it contained.
Her missing harthfret that he’d taken so long ago.
With a gasp, she reached to finger the small gem and recalled the day Du had taken it from her.
“Where is it, you bastard!” she’d demanded as she rushed into his bedchambers to begin searching through his chests and belongings for it.
He’d arched that black brow in the same arrogant expression that always made her want to claw out his eyes. Dressed all in black, he’d been freshly bathed and groomed for once. Not that it mattered.
A clean beast was still a beast.
“Don’t you knock?” he’d challenged before he shut the door behind her.
She’d ignored him. “What did you do with my necklace?”
Smirking, he’d pulled it from the small leather pouch on his belt and handed it to her.
The moment it touched her fingers, she knew the harthfret was gone. “You took it without asking?”
Nonchalant, he’d shrugged at her indignant tone. “You bound my life to yours without my permission, so I can’t trust you with your freedom, as it is now intrinsically tied to my own. It seems only right to me that I hold both.”
She’d hated him for that. And for all the centuries he’d kept it hidden from her.
Now …
Unable to believe he’d finally returned it, she opened the letter that he’d left so that she could see why he’d finally changed his mind after all this time.
I should have given this back long ago. It was an unbelievably selfish thing to do and I won’t keep you bound any longer. When we make our next port, I’ll purchase a new ship for the crew. Santiago has agreed to take you to any port you wish. Not that you need it, as you are the ship, but I did ask because I know how much you hate to be alone.
D.
A strange weepiness possessed her as she stared at the strong, masculine script. Undeniably thoughtful, this was the kindest thing anyone had done for her.
What was more, he’d had her stone reset into a new necklace. A beautiful, delicate cage that formed the outline of an ancient oak. The glow of her harthfret silhouetted the gold to make it appear as if a moon or fairy light illuminated it. It was so beautiful and carefully constructed.
As if made by a loving hand. His own hand, no doubt, as he wouldn’t have entrusted it to anyone else, since a careless smith could have accidentally destroyed it and killed them both in the process. Aye, metalworking was another of Du’s gifts from his human life. Though the only thing he’d ever given such tender care to was the forging of his weapons or the carving and engraving of his ogham runes and casting sticks.
The things his life depended upon.
Cradling it in her palm, she went to find him.
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