At Death's Door (Deadman's Cross Book 3)

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Damn his sister for her bitchy ways. But that pact had enabled him to save the life of his own grandson, so he couldn’t really complain.

  Yet one corner of Cam’s crimson lips lifted into an evil, quirky grin. “Adarian has a son … or it might even be his brother. The point is, there is another Malachai.”

  Jaden shook his head. It wasn’t possible. If anyone else had that kind of malevolent power, they’d all know it. “How? Who?”

  “He lives as a cursed god. Deprived of his emotions by Zeus.”

  He froze for a moment to digest her words. “You’re serious?”

  “Indeed.” She smiled widely with that. “So you see, we can kill Adarian and not break our pact. He has a replacement.”

  Aye, but there was still one not-so-small problem.

  “The last god who went up against Adarian was swallowed whole.”

  “Then I suggest you pick one you don’t like.” Patting him on the cheek, she wrinkled her nose and vanished.

  Jaden growled low in his throat. “You’re a menace, Cam.”

  Menyara, she whispered in the air around him.

  Whatever she wanted to call herself, it changed naught. This was a fool’s quest they were about.

  Although …

  His gaze shifted down to Nibo’s cup. If anyone stood a chance to stop Adarian, Nibo might work.

  After all, raising the dead was what the psychopomp did best.

  We’re doomed.

  Ignoring the echoing sound of reason in his head, Jaden went for the door. Either to fetch Nibo or run for the hills.

  He still wasn’t completely sure which course was the wisest.

  Valynda paced the small cell where she and Marcelina had been tossed. And with every step, her fury mounted. Not just because their enemies had violently seized them from the Sea Witch II that was part of Marcelina’s Deruvian body, and brought them into this dark, dismal hell against their wills, but because … well, Mara was just so damned tranquil about it.

  As crazy as it sounded, that made her feel betrayed.

  She paused in her pacing to glare at the taller woman. “Why aren’t you angry?”

  Mara lifted her amber gaze to arch a perfect brow. Her white-blond hair shimmered in the darkness. As did her unblemished, porcelain skin. That combination made her appear like some elfin queen holding court. The woman was absolutely flawless in composure. Not that Valynda should be surprised, given that Marcelina was born to the fey Deruvian race. They were known for their poise, grace, and beauty. It rather went with the fact that the Deruvians were a unique tree species that were able to bond with wood and become any wooden object. Therefore, Mara sat all stiff and so elegant.

  Rigid. And it was starting to seriously piss her off.

  “Anger would be counterproductive.” Mara gently smoothed her lace cuff.

  Valynda glared at her. “As one motivated by its fiery force, I completely disagree. It gives me clarity.”

  “Your clarity gives me agita.”

  In spite of their dire situation, Valynda laughed at her dry tone that caught her off guard. As did the rat that started chewing on the straw that made up her right leg. Growling, she shooed her skirts at the furry little beast. “Off with you! Find something else for your nest!”

  She turned to catch the sadness in Mara’s eyes as she watched her. Dropping her skirts, Valynda felt the twinge of pain that would have once been in her chest. Only she didn’t have a chest anymore. Just a hollowed-out husk of braided straw, thanks to the curse that had been laid upon her by a hate-filled rogering bastabule with nothing better to do than ruin her life for no apparent reason, other than he was a rank arseling.

  I’m repugnant.

  But she hadn’t always been thus. If Valynda closed her eyes, she could still see herself as she’d once been. Tall and thin, with lush, dark hair and perfect skin to rival Mara’s. While not as pale, it’d still been clear enough to cause the local poets and dandies to write odes to her. Her only flaw had been the nose she’d inherited from her father. Yet not even that had been enough to detract completely from her looks. At least not as much as the fact that she’d been impoverished.

  While her uncle had been Midasarianly wealthy, her father had not. Fool that he was, he’d spurned the trappings of his wealthy youth and turned his back on his family’s fortune, forcing her and her mother to live in poverty. She’d tried her best not to resent him for it.

  But that had been easier said than done. Especially as she’d grown older. For she’d been a girl of many wants. Like her friends, she’d dreamed of fancy gowns and shoes. Jewels to adorn her neck, wrists, and ears. Pretty hats and elegant balls. Of dining amongst the elite.

  Petty things, true. Yet they had seemed immensely important to her at the time.

  Until Nibo … or Xuri as she and a precious few knew him. He cared nothing for fancy trappings, unless it was to lure others or trick them.

  Closing her eyes, Valynda still remembered the night he’d whispered his name in her ear. His coarse whiskers had tickled the flesh of her lobe, spreading chills all over her. He’d held her close to his heart while he was buried deep inside her body. His breathing ragged, he’d tensed ever so slightly as he caressed her cheek. She’d moaned out his name in a desperate cry. “Nibo.”

  “Call me Xuri.”

  Startled, she’d stared up at him with a frown. “Xuri?”

  “My real name … known by only a few.”

  It was only later that she’d learned how precious a gift he’d given her. By calling out “Xuri” she could summon him. Anywhere. Any time.

  He had made himself hers. The elusive loa who had sworn to never be held down by any, who swore fealty to none, had bestowed upon a mere mortal the key to command him any way she wanted. It was a rarity that was unheard of in his world, and something never given lightly.

  Most mortals would have bragged about it.

  Valynda had never told a soul that she had the ability to call for him. Not because she was embarrassed, but because she respected him that much. He was a private loa, and for it to be known that he’d given a human such authority would make him a laughingstock among the others of his kind. And she would never hurt her Nibo.

  No matter the cause or reason. Because he had always been there when she needed him.

  Most of all, because he was there when she didn’t.

  “Valynda?”

  She flinched as Mara’s voice lured her back to their dank, dark cell. “Aye?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  That she wanted to be back in Nibo’s arms so that she could show him how much she loved him. Most of all, she wanted the ability to taste his lips and feel the warmth of his skin sliding against her own. Small things really, but Lord how she missed them now that she couldn’t have them anymore. “How much I loathe being made of straw.”

  Besides the fact that it itched constantly. Why couldn’t that sensation have been taken away, too?

  Mara stood and took her hand. Because Valynda wasn’t made of flesh, she could barely feel it. Her straw body lacked nerve endings. It was hard to describe to others how she felt, though they’d often asked her. Curiosity being what it was, everyone wanted to know how it felt to be something living that wasn’t human.

  Though if you asked her, there were many in the world who wore the guise of humans wrapped in flesh who didn’t qualify for that title. The man who’d trapped her into this damnable state was most definitely one of them.

  Wretched bastard.

  And for what? To make her love him? He certainly hadn’t thought that one through, had he? In what realm had the beast thought that taking away her free will would make her fall madly for his lack of masculine wiles?

  Drugging a woman to force her to do a man’s bidding was no way to win her to his side, or gain anything more than her eternal hatred. If she lived to be a million years old, she’d never understand Benjamin Sparke’s twisted logic. Or why he’d done what he’d done when it’d
benefitted neither of them in the long run.

  “We’ll get out of this. You know we will.”

  She wanted to believe that. But she was running a bit low on optimism. Unlike Mara, luck had never been her friend. Rather, it was a fickle bitch who teased and abandoned her at the worst moment possible.

  Hence her current stint where she was trapped as a living Voodoo doll. Well, not quite, but it certainly felt that way most days.

  Valynda covered Mara’s hand with her own and tried not to notice the difference between Mara’s smooth flesh and her pale straw extremity. While she wasn’t technically a Voodoo doll, she was definitely an abomination.

  Why? Because she’d dared to fall in love and trust the wrong man. She’d let her guard down and this was her punishment for trying to be happy. For attempting to have the one thing that others had all the time without punishment.

  Love. Happiness. A future of her own.

  You’re not other people.

  True. She was cursed.

  All of a sudden a blinding light flashed in their bitter darkness.

  One second Mara was there by her side, and in the next she was gone. Ripped from her very grip with nothing more than an almost inaudible gasp!

  Valynda panicked more than usual, given that this was what happened to her over and over again in her life.

  Everyone she loved vanished on her, without warning. Seldom was she ever given a reason for it. One moment they were there. The next they were gone and she was left behind to pick up the pieces. Alone. With nothing and no one to help her through the madness and pain.

  “Mara!” Forcing her hysteria down, Valynda turned around, searching the room with her gaze. Not that there was much to search. The tiny cell was definitely empty. Yet she felt the need to try and find her friend. To reclaim her from the darkness that threatened to swallow them whole. “Mara!” she shouted again, praying she could find her.

  It was useless.

  Mara was gone.

  How could this be? She was alone again. In the dark. Without warning. For no reason. Panic crashed through her like a tidal wave that threatened to tear her apart.

  How could she have ever forgotten this desperate feeling? Yet somehow the crew of the Sea Witch had driven the horror from her heart. They had given her a false sense of hope and security.

  Because the truth was, due to them and their kindness, Valynda hadn’t been alone since the day she’d been resurrected from her death.

  Nay, since the day Benjamin had killed her.

  You will love me. She could still hear his maniacal insanity as he insisted she give him what he hadn’t earned. So afraid of the world and of her running away from his repugnant form, he used to stand on her feet to keep her planted by his side. Psychotic to the extreme. How could no one else see it? Everything about him was wrong, and yet her father had insisted she marry him. From the moment she’d met him and had first stared into those dark, soulless eyes, she’d known something about him hadn’t been right. He’d lacked empathy for others. Lacked any kind of caring for her.

  Sanity for himself.

  And on that fateful night when his need to control her had gone too far and he’d slipped over the edge of all human decency, he’d stabbed needles into the body of the poppet he’d used to represent her. Every one had shredded her and torn through her flesh. The pain had been relentless. Unbearable.

  She’d screamed for him to stop, but he’d taken no mercy upon her. Then as now. No one ever took mercy on her suffering.

  Because no one cares, a disembodied voice whispered in the air around her. It was a haunting sound. Chilling and emotionless.

  Worse, it was true.

  That was what she hated most. Not because she was being self-pitying. Because it was the truth. Not even her own parents had cared about her. Sad though it was, she’d known that from the moment she’d entered this world and taken her first breath. Her parents had provided for her out of duty and nothing more.

  Now …

  She froze as she heard a sudden sound. Someone was here.

  Or something.

  “Who’s there?”

  Echoing laughter answered her whisper.

  That only made her panic more, which then angered her, because she hated her own weakness. Fear was ever a useless emotion. It robbed her of what little intimidation she could muster.

  Valynda stepped back against the wall to prevent anyone from attacking her there.

  “Do you want your freedom?” This time, the voice was loud and commanding. Yet still the creature didn’t show himself.

  Which made her wonder if it was a trick question. Some bizarre phantom conjured by her mind that didn’t want her to be left alone. “Who are you?”

  The darkness continued to obscure any trace of Mara or the creature who was speaking.

  Instead, her eyes burned from trying to create something for her to focus on in the abysmal blackness. All they provided were peculiar stinging dots of light that chased each other around.

  Until an eerie red light appeared. It spread out to form a giant demonic beast before her. One that made her antsy with anticipation. This wasn’t just any monster.

  It was a Malachai.

  The red and black on his skin swirled together and would have been pretty had he not oozed such an unnatural aura of evil and misery. There was never any mistaking such a creature. For they were torture and suffering.

  Everything about him screamed ultimate torment and pain. The kind that crawled through the night seeking victims. That turned best friend against best friend. Father against son. Brother against brother. He fed on such turmoil and treachery. It was mother’s milk and he lapped it up like a starving kitten.

  Had flesh still covered her body, it would be crawling from being this close to his ilk. As it was, she shivered in revulsion. As any normal person would. She had no choice, as his evil permeated the air around her.

  Ironic, really. Most assumed Xuri to be this type of destructive creature. Her own father had denounced him as such and forbidden her to be near him.

  Yet Xuri, for all his temper and moods, didn’t even begin to compare to this. He was actually quite mellow so long as no one crossed him.

  The Malachai skidded across the floor to tower over her with eyes that glowed.

  “Bet you’ve scared many a felon into church.”

  His golden eyes flashed red in the dark, letting her know that he didn’t appreciate her humor. “Are you not afraid, chit?”

  Not really. Hard to frighten someone who couldn’t feel pain and whose significant other was a psychopomp immune to preternatural bullies. So … “Been to hell already. Not much more you can do.”

  He made a noise that might have been a snort. Or indigestion. Hard to tell, really. “Do you not know who I am?”

  “Adarian Malachai.”

  “Then you know to fear me.”

  Now it was her turn to scoff. “Pish to the posh on that. I don’t believe in catering to male egos. Figure yours is large enough already. Why make it grow larger?”

  A blast of hot air blew against her, plastering her gown to her straw body. It was so fierce, it caused her to stagger back against the damp stone.

  “I could rip you to shreds!”

  And she wouldn’t feel it. He was missing the point. She wasn’t human. She lacked the physical sensation of others. Hence the whole straw-body nightmare that made up her existence and why she really didn’t care if he did end her. At least that would put her out of her misery and end this epic horror once and for all. Because, honestly, she was so tired of living like this that eternal death was beginning to look good to her.

  Most of all, she was sick of creatures like Adarian, Benjamin, and her father using her for a pawn in their sick games and for their sick goals.

  In spite of her current form, she was human, not a trophy or a prize.

  Or a means to an end.

  When would someone see her as a person with feelings? As someone to be loved a
nd not used?

  Was it really too much to ask that one person, somewhere, just once, cherish her?

  All her life, everyone around her had done nothing save shove her and threaten her if she didn’t please them or do what they told her. Be a lady. Be silent, etc. Her father had spent her entire childhood beating her every time she questioned him or didn’t do exactly what he wanted.

  Her mother had never allowed her an ounce of breathing room. Sit properly. Say nothing. Be a good little piece of eye candy to catch a good husband. And all that training had culminated in Benjamin’s insane ultimatum—marry me or die.

  She was done with it and with being pushed around and disregarded.

  “Do you have a real point for your visit or is your ego so fragile that you have an innate need to build it up by preying on a pathetic human creature you’re keeping in a cage like some pet bird you’ve dragged home?”

  Hoping to God that someone finally put her out of her never-ending misery, she lifted her chin defiantly and glared at him.

  Please, God, have mercy and kill me!

  “Go ahead, Adarian. Do your worst.”

  She wanted him to blast her into oblivion. Nay, she needed him to so that the constant pain in her heart would finally cease and leave her be. She braced herself for it and waited.

  And waited.

  Instead of giving her what she wanted most, the wretched, heartless bastard pursed his lips and narrowed those demonic eyes as if he were assessing her mettle.

  Or something worse.

  Without warning, rats burst up from the floor, rushing around her feet.

  Shrieking, Valynda danced around, trying to avoid them as they did their best to shred her legs and climb up them.

  “So, you are at least squeamish.”

  She did her best to keep them at bay as she glared at him and beat them away. “No one likes a rat.” Especially not a six-foot-something demonic red asshole of one who thought this funny!

  Her breathing ragged, she cursed them and him as she continued stomping.

  “Unless it’s another rat.”