Valynda summoned Ghede Nibo—the Vodou loa. He was the leader of the spirits of the dead, and the one Thorn had bargained with for Valynda’s parole.
They were also close friends. How close, Devyl wasn’t sure. But he’d heard Valynda speaking to him whenever she thought no one else was around. And obviously, Nibo thought enough of her that he’d negotiated with Baron Samedi to bring her back to life so that she could join their crew. It wasn’t something either of them did lightly. Or anything they were known for.
Dressed in a black coat with a bright purple sash and shirt, Nibo was in his human form—ethereally beautiful, with dark curly hair and chiseled features. As usual, he was accompanied by his “twin” companions, Masaka and Oussou. Yet for being called twins, they were complete opposites of each other. Masaka a tall, androgynous woman who wore a small white tricorne emblazoned with skulls that matched her jacket and breeches, and a black ruffled shirt. Her skin was as dark as Oussou’s was pale. And while her hair was black, Oussou’s matched her bone-colored coat. Dressed in a black gravedigger’s jacket that held a white cross on each sleeve, he had his pale braids covered with a black tricorne that was festooned with mauve feathers.
A smile spread across Oussou’s handsome face that said he was savoring the coming battle as he handed Nibo his skull cane. In turn, Nibo passed to Oussou his bottle of white rum that held medicinal herbs. Oussou took a deep drink of the rum while Nibo pulled the head of the cane to reveal the sharp saber inside it. He handed the scabbard to Masaka. She held it up and bent it in the center. It immediately broke apart and crawled down her sleeves like twin snakes to form a thorny set of knives along her forearms.
Though they were members of the Ghede loa nanchon, they had much more in common with their warring Petro cousins. Fiery to their bones. There was nothing the three of them liked more than to raise hell and brawl.
Well, there was one thing they liked better. But the fury in their eyes said that their passion right now wasn’t carnal. They craved the same blood Devyl could taste.
And their combined presence here made Gadreyal shrink back. She hovered over the ground with a jaundiced eye at the increase in their number.
“You can’t wield Michael’s blood,” she snarled at Devyl. “It’s more likely to kill you than serve you.”
“Then why are you so afraid all of a sudden?”
She threw her axe at him. Devyl caught it in his hand, kissed it, and hurled it back.
His reward was another shrill shriek. And he knew this was a ruse to buy Vine more time. Every second that passed was critical for Mara.
They all knew it.
While his cousin led in his own attack, Devyl gave the signal to his crew to renew their battle with everything they had. He hated to leave them, but he had no choice.
For the first time ever, he understood the Deruvian code—that one life was indeed far more precious than all others combined. Aye, it was that very selfishness he’d once hated Vine and her entire Vanir race over.
Maybe he was more Vanir than he wanted to admit. But right now, nothing mattered to him.
Nothing except Mara.
The world could burn for all he cared. Without Mara, it didn’t deserve to be here.
He could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears as he left the field of battle to teleport to Tiveden.
No sooner had he materialized on the side of the tallest hill than he drew up short to find his ex-wife in all her fiery glory. Right down to the orange and red dress that appeared to move like living flames in the fading sun.
“You’re too late,” Vine gloated the moment she saw him. “I’ve planted you here and here you will stay.”
His knees went weak at her declaration. “You didn’t plant me here—’twas Mara’s harthfret you stole.”
She paled. For a moment, the black veins left her skin as confusion lined her brow. It was obvious she was trying to discern whether or not he was lying. “What?”
“Had you asked, I’d have gladly given you mine to keep her safe. You should have known that, Vine. I always protected Mara over anyone.”
That had the desired effect on her. She let loose an insane cry before she started toward him.
Yet before she could reach him, the ground on the hill began to tremble and boil. Like a living, starving beastie, it rose and fell, and percolated with such force that Vine squealed and danced away from it.
Half expecting something foul to emerge out of the chaos, Devyl stumbled and barely caught himself before he went sprawling.
“What have you done?” Vine gasped accusingly.
He shook his head as he struggled to comprehend it. Never had he seen the like. “Nothing. That is not me.”
Smoke billowed up in sharp, inky black spirals. They danced in an invisible breeze until they began to slowly twine about and take the shape and form of a woman.
Devyl held his breath, praying silently for a miracle.
But to his utter disappointment it wasn’t Mara they formed.
The shape was too short and flat about the bosom to be his better half. Yet there was something vaguely familiar to that outline. Something that wiggled in the back of his mind.
Suddenly, he knew exactly why.
Nay … this could not be.
It’s not possible.
His breath catching in his throat, Devyl froze as shock claimed him fully. And still there was no denying the woman who manifested in front of them.
“Elf?” His voice shook with uncertainty. “Is it really you, lass?”
Like a newborn fawn, she worked her face as if trying to remember how to speak. How to see. She stared down at her hands and wiggled her fingers, then scowled at Vine.
Color flooded into his sister’s pale cheeks. The air began to stir to a fierce level. It whipped at Elf’s hair, spiraling it into tendrils and plastering her burgundy dress against her lithe body.
“You sought to harm my brother?” she finally spoke.
Her features pale, Vine stumbled back. She glanced at Strixa and then Devyl. “What is this?” Her mouth worked soundlessly before she choked out, “How is this?”
He wasn’t sure, except for one thing.…
“You must have buried Elf’s harthfret instead of Mara’s.” Though how it could regenerate her after all these centuries, he had no idea. He’d never heard of such.
It wasn’t possible.
On furious impulse, he’d reclaimed Elf’s harthfret that day when he’d gone into Mara’s nemeton. Like a frenzied beast, he’d dug through the wood and earth until he found it at the base of the tree where she’d planted it.
For years, he’d tried to regenerate her.
Nothing had ever worked. Never had it taken root, and so he’d set it into a signet ring to keep it forever with him.
So aye, he was with Vine in one way only … how the futtocking hell was this possible?
Vine started to leave, but something held her in place.
Elf’s breathing turned ragged as she stalked toward his ex-wife like a vicious predator with cornered prey. “You do not escape here. You do not escape me.” Her voice was no longer the sweet lilt he’d known from his younger sister. It was demonic and fierce. “You wanted war?” Elf blasted her. “By all means, have some!”
Vine screamed as fire consumed her. Holding her hands up, she tried to save herself, but it was useless. The fire spread quick and fast, and engulfed her entirely.
Then Elf turned to him.
Devyl braced himself for her attack, especially when she came running toward him, full speed. But instead of attacking, she threw herself into his arms and held him close, as she’d done when they were young.
“I should have listened to you!” She sobbed in his arms.
Dumbfounded, he held her in an awkward embrace, still not completely convinced this was his sister. It was just the sort of cruel trick Vine specialized in.
Among many others.
Not until Strixa moved closer to them and reached out to touch his
arm in a comforting gesture of solidarity did he begin to have some belief that this might not be a massively cruel jape. “Mara stole the harthfret from you. She was working to see if there was some way she could bring your sister back. While I may not think much of you, demonspawn, the Lady Marcelina loves you.”
“This is real then?” His voice trembled.
Strixa nodded. “It would never have worked had Vine not planted Elyzabel here, where Tyr’s blood saturated the fields, and had your sister not died unjustly before her time.”
“Because Tyr’s a god of justice.”
She nodded. “And is part of your family. His blood is her blood. It rejuvenated her. Yet even so, it wouldn’t have been enough had Nibo not come here with his magick.”
Because regenerating the dead was one of his specialties.
And that gave him another thought. “Where’s Mara’s stone?”
Strixa tsked at him and lifted the hand he had on Elf’s shoulder. “She left her heart with you.”
It took him a second to realize that Mara had swapped her stone with Elf’s in his ring. He’d worn the ring for so long, but because it reminded him of his failings, he seldom looked at it.
Until now.
Now he let the warmth of Mara’s life force heat his entire body.
“Elf?” he breathed, kissing the top of her head. “There’s something I must do.”
“Save Mara?”
He scowled at her. “How do you know about Mara?”
“Once you carried my stone with you, I could hear everything you said.”
Heat scalded his cheeks as he realized some of the other things she might have overheard.
In that familiar teasing way, she tugged at his whiskers. “Aye, my brother. Even that.”
He groaned out loud. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what? Not abandoning me? You did nothing wrong, Duey. Now let’s go save your wife.”
* * *
Devyl drew up short as he reappeared on the battlefield where he’d left his men. He had to give the Deadmen credit—they didn’t withdraw from conflict.
Ever.
And this was a bloodbath. Gadreyal and her forces weren’t going down easily. Lightning flashed. The sound of battle rang in his ears.
This was what he’d grown up on.
And as he took his sister’s hand, he hesitated for the first time in his life.
“I failed to protect you.”
“Nay,” Elf breathed, reaching up to cup his face in her hand. “My fiancé failed me. At their behest.” She jerked her chin toward Gadreyal. “She was the one who set me up, and you. She wanted you out of the way.”
He felt his fangs elongate at her words as the demonic beast inside came to the forefront.
Elf stepped back and inclined her head, then turned herself into a small sprite. She flew to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear. “None shall see me, big brother. Do what you do best and worry not this time. I’ll be right here.” She pressed herself against his jugular and became a part of his skin.
Knowing she was safe so long as he didn’t take a blow there, he lowered his visor and headed straight for Gadreyal.
This time when he caught her with his sword, it knocked her reeling. But he gave her no quarter. Not now.
Not ever again.
“Where is Cameron?” he growled. “Her life is all that will spare yours.”
Gadreyal staggered back from his blows. She tried to fly away, but he sliced her hard across the wings, almost completely severing one.
His time for mercy had passed. Her time for living was growing perilously short.
“Release my men and give us back our Miss Jack! I shan’t say it again.”
Gadreyal hissed and twisted, then blasted him. But he didn’t feel it. He was too angry. “Thorn can’t save you!”
“I’m not looking for him to.” Devyl kicked her back.
“Captain!”
He hesitated at Hinder’s and Belle’s shouts. Glancing to them, he saw that his cousin had opened a gate and allowed Thorn and a group of Sarim inside this realm.
The moment Gadreyal saw them, she gathered her warriors and vanished.
“Nay!” Devyl started after her, but Thorn caught him and prevented it.
“We have Cameron and her brother.”
Those words barely registered. “What? How?”
Thorn tightened his grip on Devyl’s arm. “We’ve found them, but we need the blood of a Deruvian or Myrcian to unlock the gate that holds them. It’s why we’re here.” He glanced around the field. “Where’s Mara?”
Devyl choked on the answer, then forced himself to speak past the agony that seized him. “Vine killed her.”
Thorn’s eyes widened. Because he knew what Devyl did. Deruvians didn’t always come back from their graves.
“You gave me your word, Leucious. Can I hold you to it?”
Thorn nodded glumly. “What of Cameron?”
Devyl handed him the sword. “Her medallion’s inside. I will take her place and let them out, but you have to finish this.”
Before Thorn could take him up on it, Kalder came forward. “Nay, let me go, Captain. My life for Miss Jack and her brother.”
“Kal—”
“No argument, Bane.” Kalder glanced around at the Deadmen. “I’m the most expendable here. But you and the Lady Ship … the crew needs you both.”
“We’re pirates,” Sancha said as she wiped at the blood on her cheek. “We vote.”
William grimaced. “I vote we lose no one.”
Thorn scoffed at his suggestion. “It doesn’t work that way. One of you has to go. There’s no other way for it.”
Kalder nodded. “Matter’s settled, then. We need our ship and our captain. We don’t need a mermaid.”
It still sat ill with Devyl. And for once, he was coming around to the way the Vanir saw things. He didn’t like the thought of sacrificing the one to save the many. “I’ll find a way to get you back.”
“God, I hope so, Bane.” Kalder winked at him. “’Cause one way or another, I plan to return for Miss Jack. Please tell her I said that.”
Devyl held his tongue as he watched Michael and Gabriel take Kalder. He didn’t have the heart to warn the merman of the truth.
Either way, he was dead.
Most likely, they both were.
His heart heavy, he locked gazes with Thorn. “Well?”
Thorn grimaced at the question. “Well, what?”
“We have to get Mara back.”
“I can’t do anything. You know that. She’s beyond my reach.”
When Devyl started forward, Valynda stopped him from grabbing Thorn and ripping out his throat. “It’s not final, Captain.” She turned to Nibo. “You can help her, can you not?”
Eyes wide, he exchanged a nervous grimace with his twin companions. “Is not so easy, ma petite ange.”
“But not impossible. Especially for you, Papa.” She reached up and caressed his cheek. “You can do this for me, can’t you?”
Nibo practically melted at her touch. “Oui. I will try.”
“Nay, love. You will succeed.”
* * *
In every culture, crossroads were significant. As an Aesir, Devyl had been taught to be wary of them, as they were oft haunted by the cŵn annwn, cyhyraeth, Adoni, or Gwrach y Rhibyn, who preyed on unwary travelers, seeking souls or victims for nefarious ends. Nothing good ever happened in such places.
And this evening was no exception. For it was here in his grandfather’s kingdom that he was being returned to the hell Thorn had saved him from.
Nibo let out a tired sigh as he finished his chant. “You’re sure about this?”
Devyl nodded. “She doesn’t belong there. Are you sure this will work?”
“Aye. The parties have agreed. They would rather torture you, as you have earned damnation, while she has not.” He gestured toward his companion. “Masaka will lead you in and then return w
ith Marcelina.”
Devyl narrowed his gaze on the loa. “No tricks?”
Nibo quirked an amused grin. “You are wise to be suspicious. But on this, I gave me word to Valynda. I assure you that I won’t break her heart.”
“Nor will he cross me.” Thorn cleared his throat abruptly.
The laugh Nibo let out contradicted Thorn’s arrogance. But that was all the loa had to say on the matter. “If you’re ready?”
Almost.
Devyl swallowed hard against the painful knot in his throat as he met the tear-filled gaze of his sister. “I’m sorry to be leaving you alone in this world, Elf.”
Sniffing, she nodded. “I understand. I just hate to lose you again.”
He kissed her hand and held it for a moment longer. “Tell Mara that I’ve always loved her. And that she’s never to feel guilty for this. I would rather she think of me fondly, if she’s able. And only smile whenever she does so.”
A tear slid down her cheek as she nodded. “I love you, Duey.”
“My precious Elf.” He kissed her forehead. “Take care.” And with that, he stepped back and glared at Thorn. “Let no harm come to my girls.”
“On my honor, Dón-Dueli. It’s been a privilege.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. You’re still a thorn in my arse.”
Thorn laughed, but his eyes were as sad as the others’ as Masaka placed her hand on Devyl’s shoulder and they faded back into the hell Devyl knew he’d be forced to endure for all eternity.
Think of Mara. This was for her. She was safe now. She had her life back. Free of him.
But that didn’t help. Not really.
Because in the end, the greatest hell wasn’t the physical agony he knew awaited him. It was the mental and emotional torment that came from knowing that she finally loved him and that now he would be forced to live without her.
Forever.
* * *
Kalder hesitated as he saw the dense crystal wall that kept Paden and Cameron imprisoned. They were frozen in a sheet so thick, they barely looked human. But the worst part of all was the expressions of horror frozen upon their faces—as if they were caught in the midst of a nightmare only they could see.
“What have they done to them?”
Rage darkened Thorn’s eyes to a vibrant green glow. “It’s not what’s there that’s terrifying, Myrcian. It’s what’s not.”