Janice let out a tired sigh as she propped up her pillow and leaned back against it. “Evil Apollite bastards thought it funny to set me out to sea to die. I’d have burst into flames had Bane not seen me boat and known me for what I was. Caught me right before dawn, he did, and barely saved me hide.”
That made no sense whatsoever to Cameron. “How do you mean?”
“Apollites are the race Apollo first created, then cursed,” Belle explained. “Just like the Dark-Hunters can’t kill humans, they can’t kill Apollites until they begin taking souls, as they’re considered innocent until they take a human life. The Hunters, like we Deadmen, have a strict code they must follow that dictates what they can and can’t do and who they’re allowed to hunt and when.”
Janice nodded. “So there I was, adrift at sea in a tiny dinghy, helpless as a newborn babe. No oar and no way of getting back to shore on me own, since I know not how to swim. Cursing every line of Acheron’s Dark-Hunter manual he forces us to read and live by. Thought I be a goner for sure … even after I was seeing this fine ship pulling up alongside me. Couldn’t imagine how to explain me predicament to a normal crew of folks. Lucky I was it turned out to be this group of miscreants what knew who and what I was. They rushed me under cover just a mere heartbeat before I’d have burst into flames.”
Cameron arched a brow at her dire tone. “Burst into flames? That a metaphor?”
“Oh…” Janice flashed a grin. “Nay, lovey. That be an important detail, indeed. Never open a port window and be letting daylight in whenever I be down here, as it be quite lethal to me health.”
“Really?”
“Aye!” they said in unison.
Valynda poured more rum for Cameron. “All Apollites, Daimons, and Dark-Hunters are forbidden by Apollo to be in his domain. A single ray of sunshine will instantly cause their skin to blister and burn. Full exposure incinerates them. Part of their curse from the evil sun god who hates the sorry lot of them.”
“How awful!” Cameron shuddered in sympathy as she tried to imagine having to live her life without daylight.
For eternity, no less.
She could imagine no worse existence.
“’Deed!” Janice sighed. “Honestly, I feel bad for the buggers. The Apollites, not the Daimons, mind you. Can you think of being cursed to die at age twenty-seven for an act your ancestors done committed that you had nothing to do with? Tragic, really.”
Belle snorted. “Feel bad if you want, but few in life are innocent past their walking knickers. Most are out only for themselves, Janny. Hence your unfortunate past what caused you to be in our company.”
Sighing, Janice nodded glumly.
Before Cameron could ask her to elaborate, Valynda moved to sit beside her. “So what about you, Miss Jack? Have you a beau or a belle at home?”
She scowled at the exceptionally bold and scandalous way these women talked. While she was used to some bawdy ways from the patrons of the Black Swan, this group put even the rowdiest men there to shame. “Neither, I’m afraid. Paden and I had been making plans for him to purchase the Black Swan once he returned from this latest voyage. The current owner has been looking for a buyer and they had an unofficial agreement for it. We’d planned for me—and the girl he was to marry on his return—to run it for him while he sailed. Because of that, I wanted no entanglements from any man to distract me or turn me head from business.”
“Wise woman.” Belle leaned back on her bed. “Men are ever a distraction.”
“Aye to that,” Sancha agreed. “But they’re oft the best kind of distraction. At least for a few minutes.” She wagged her eyebrows, which caused Belle and Janice to laugh and Valynda to groan and shake her head.
While Cameron understood the insinuation, she chose not to comment, as it was apparent that she was the only one in the cabin without direct experience in this matter.
Something the others quickly picked up on.
Sancha tsked at her. “I take it from your silence that you’ve never sampled the dangling fruit of the bull, Miss Jack.”
More heat crept over her face. “I have not. Though I’ve heard quite a lot about it in my time.”
“Working in a tavern with the reputation of the Black Swan, I imagine you have,” Belle said with a laugh.
“Probably seen a few, too.” Janice snickered.
“More than I care to think about.” Cameron cleared her throat as more embarrassment filled her. “Some are not as circumspect as they should be.”
“Yet you’ve never been curious?” Valynda arched a straw brow.
“Not with what’s walked through the door of me tavern. They were all welcome to keep their fruits and nuts planted firmly in their breeches.”
They all burst into laughter.
Still, Cameron couldn’t refrain from allowing her thoughts to wander toward a couple of the men sailing aboard this ship that the others had mentioned earlier. Unlike the patrons of the Black Swan, the crew here were a different breed.
A much finer, more handsome group she’d never seen confined in one place. The ladies were right about that. The Deadmen definitely stood out as if hand-selected for their exceptional forms.
Which made her curious about something else.…
“Are all of you really dead?”
“Aye,” Belle said, sobering. “Every last one of us. The only living creatures here are you and the ship, herself. To our knowledge, Lady Marcelina never perished. She alone retains her lifeblood.”
“Even Kalder?”
Sancha nodded. “He was gutted. There’s a vicious scar on his belly what shows where his enemies slit him good.”
“But it be the scar on his soul that continues to bleed.”
Belle scoffed at Janice’s words. “’Tis the scars on all our souls that continue to bleed, sister.” She turned her dark gaze to Cameron. “Even our fair Miss Jack. I feel her pain. It reaches out to me and twists like a dagger in me heart. She has her own secrets that she keeps, and it’s not just her brother what haunts her.”
Cameron’s jaw dropped that the woman would guess something that she’d have sworn she was keeping quite private. “How do you know that?”
An esoteric smile curved her lips. “No one hides from me, love. I see everything. Even the fact that you haven’t been completely honest with the captain.”
“What?”
“Are you going to deny it?”
Cameron wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m not hiding anything.” But even as she spoke, she knew it was a lie.
Worse? So did Belle.
* * *
Devyl listened to the creaking of the boards and to the whispers of things he wished he couldn’t hear. To the voices of the aether that never left him alone.
Ironic really, since he’d sold his soul long ago for the ability and powers to tap into the very things that now irritated him.
Or perhaps it was justice that he was tortured by them.
“You dared to call for me?”
He looked up from the book he was reading to the shadowed corner where his old enemy peered at him. “You dare take that tone?”
Thorn scoffed as he stepped into the light. Though he wasn’t quite as tall as Devyl, he was still a well-muscled bastard who would intimidate most. But then, Devyl wasn’t most, and the two of them had never been particularly friendly.
Indeed, they’d once battled hard against each other. Their armies had waged a bloody, devastating war on opposite ends of an intestine-laden field. It was so odd to peer into those frigid green eyes without a battle helm framing them. To sit peacefully in the presence of a being he’d once sworn to see dead at his feet.
Much had changed. Instead of ancient ringed armor, Thorn was dressed in a fashionable brocade coat and buckled shoes. Hell, he even wore a powdered wig over his brown hair.
How fucking off.
But then, Devyl was a long way from his warrior’s cloaked armor, too. His braids were gone, as was his thick black bea
rd and philosopher’s paint. Nor did he brandish his twisted runic staff.
Nay, they were not the same barbaric enemies they’d been.
Neither were they friends. Certainly not family. Probably the best term for them was bitter strangers.
Thorn crossed the cabin to stand before him. In a move that was as audacious as it was foolhardy, he knocked Devyl’s feet from the chair where they rested and took a seat on it. Leaning back, he folded his arms over his chest and cocked one arrogant brow as if daring Devyl to take him to task for his brave stupidity.
“You are a cheeky bastard.”
Thorn smirked at him. “And you’re a bullish one. Now can we dispense with the insults and you tell me why you rang my bell?”
Closing his book, Devyl scratched at the whiskers on his cheek. “We have a bit of a problem.”
“Demons proving too much for you?”
He cast the bastard a menacing glare for that dig when Thorn knew better. Not even the mighty Thorn and all his army had been able to take Devyl down. Had it not been for Vine’s treachery, they’d all be paying homage to him under his eternal reign as evil overlord. Damn shame the bitch had gotten greedy and he’d gotten stupid.
“Hardly. Nay, there’s a bit of a fluff you need to know about.”
Thorn arched his brow even higher. “What fluff is this?”
“I’ve stashed it belowdecks with the Dark-Huntress I dredged from the sea.”
“Pardon? What Dark-Huntress?”
Devyl tsked at him. “You’ve fallen way behind, Leucious. How unlike you to not know everything I’ve been up to.”
“Well, as cute and adorable as you are, Duel, I do have other, much more appealing asses to stay on top of. Now, would you like to catch me up? Or should we continue this game?”
He let out an annoyed “heh” before he spoke again. “Appears your friend Menyara has sent a Seraph to my door.”
Thorn actually choked. Pity it wasn’t fatal for him.
Devyl handed his mug to him to help clear his throat of the gall that had gagged him.
He took it and drank deeply, then spat the contents out and cursed Devyl for everything he’d never been worth. “Blood? You’re drinking futtocking blood and you handed it to me without warning? Seriously? When you know what blood does to me?”
Devyl didn’t react to the fact that such a beverage could turn both of them into mindless killing animals who would commit any atrocity to taste more of it. “Since when do you discriminate? Besides, it’s demon blood. Not human. Pity, that. But I knew you’d get your tits in a wad if I chose a more fulfilling libation.”
“You evil excuse for a sentient being. I can’t believe”—Thorn stressed the word—“I let Savitar talk me into bringing you back.”
Devyl snorted. “As you said on my resurrection, to destroy evil of this magnitude you don’t send out choirboys, unless you want to feed your enemies lunch.”
Thorn sighed irritably as he wiped his hand over his mouth. “Is there anything in this place to drink that didn’t once filter through internal organs?”
“When did you become such a prissy quim?”
“Careful, Duel, lest I don my armor and we take up where we once left off.”
“That would be fine by me. We never did settle that last fight, as I recall. You turned tail and ran.”
The expression on Thorn’s face could have frozen fire in August on the equator. “I advanced in a new direction.”
Yeah, right.
Scoffing at the bullshit answer, Devyl cast his gaze to the corner where he kept his alcohol. “Cabinet behind you. Serve yourself.”
Thorn got up to peruse the meager potent potables Devyl kept on hand for his visiting crew, who would be even more horrified by his preferred beverage than Thorn. “Not by my choice. I’d have gladly sent you to your precious Annwn that day, had it been up to me.”
“You’d have tried. ’Twould have been your heart I’d have delivered to your father for my reward, rather. Quite the price he places on you.”
Thorn went ramrod still.
“Fear not, Leucious,” Devyl said, using Thorn’s real name. “I have no intention of telling anyone who your true father is. Or the truth of your birth. A bastard I might be, but I’m not a scabbing piece of shit. Your family trauma be no business of mine. Have my own to deal with.”
Relaxing, Thorn chose a hearty wine to pour. “Appreciate your discretion.”
Devyl snorted. “Don’t. As you know, I settle my issues on a battlefield, as the gods intended. I’ve no use or respect for sneaky treachery, or those who participate in it.”
“That’s the one thing I’ve always respected about you, Duel. Even when we were enemies. Always knew where we stood.” He returned to sit. “So tell me of this Seraph.”
“It’s not her, per se. Rather, it’s her brother, who seems to be in Vine’s custody. Somehow he managed to smuggle out his medallion to his sister, who in turn was sent here by way of Menyara.”
“How did he manage to get his medallion separated from his sword?”
“That be the question, don’t it? But then, he’s of Michael’s bloodline.”
Thorn released a low whistle. “Powerful blood, that.”
“Indeed. I never knew he had issue. Other than rumors, of course. Did you?”
“I don’t delve into those places or ask those questions. I’m no more welcomed among my brethren than you’d be. For that matter, I’m trusted even less, given what fathered me … and how.”
“Never mind the why of it.”
“Exactly.” Thorn nursed his wine as he considered the matter. “If Vine has a Seraph in her custody—”
“A powerful one…”
“She could open the gate.”
“Could open more than that. Michael’s blood is a most potent tonic. And if she has custody of his sword to boot…”
Thorn winced. “You’re sure the sister holds the medallion?”
“Saw it myself. And it activated under threat. There’s no missing that spectacular light show. Lit up the sky for leagues. Surprised you missed it.” Devyl set his book aside. “Is Michael still among the Sarim?”
“No idea. As I said, they don’t exactly talk to me. We’re Hellchasers. The Hell-Hunters are a different breed entirely, and they don’t trust me or like us as a rule. The Necrodemians have always been prissy assholes when it comes to our demonic ranks.”
Because they expected treachery from Thorn. Born of two powerful, cunning demons who’d betrayed them all and a weak human mother’s greed, Thorn was likely to turn on them—at least that was what they assumed. It didn’t matter that for thousands upon thousands of years Thorn had served the same side as they. They still refused to trust him completely.
Devyl couldn’t blame them for that. It was a rare dog indeed that didn’t return to its vomit.
Only the strongest of the strong could resist the urge.
Of course, he’d never met any creature stronger than Thorn, and while he’d never admit it aloud, it was what he respected about the beast. Thorn possessed a rare integrity that he knew would never be tempted by the darkness that Devyl willingly gave in to.
But then he didn’t have the tethers to the light that Thorn did. There was nothing for him to hold on to. Nothing he craved or wanted past Vine’s head on his wall.
At this point he didn’t even care if he returned to his infernal pit of eternal torture or not. He’d endured it for so long that it no longer held any deterrent to him whatsoever. Indeed, a part of him had even learned to derive a bit of masochistic pleasure from the pain of it all. Sick though it was.
Thorn pinned him with a probing stare. “You’re taking this awfully well. Should I ask why?”
“Unlike you, I don’t fear the gate opening. ’Deed, I hope it does.”
“Since yours is the first ass Vine will be after, might I ask why you’re so eager for it?”
“As you said, mine is the first ass she’ll seek. This time, when
I go to my grave, I won’t be headed there alone. I plan to take her and all her sisters along with me.”
“Including Marcelina?”
“If she gets in my way.”
“What happened between the two of you, anyway? Why does she hate you so much?”
Devyl fell silent at the question that took him back to a time and place he hated. Back to a boy who’d died a harsh, painful death long before Vine had carved out his heart, fed it to him, and ended his mortal life. “She blames me for corrupting her sister.”
“Did you?”
“What difference does it make? The past is done with. Blame is nothing more than a waste at this point. Besides, we’re all guilty of something.”
Thorn knew that look in Duel’s eyes. A pain so profound and deep that you dared not speak of it because no amount of time could dull the way it lacerated your soul and left it bleeding and raw. It was a turmoil he lived with himself. Guilt. Anguish. And a self-hatred that overrode all other feelings to the point you wondered at times how you managed to remain sane.
Or maybe you didn’t.
Maybe you were insane. That would at least explain the horror that was life. The travesty of it all.
Denial was the easiest way to cope. You ignored it as much as you could and prayed it stayed in the dark recesses where you locked it away tight and prayed it never got out again.
Yet no matter how great the seal—how carefully you guarded that door—sooner or later some stupid bastard always had to open it and force you to look inside. Face the very thing you didn’t want to see.
Today, he was that stupid bastard.
It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for Duel. Perhaps there was some semblance of a soul left in this vicious blighter after all.
Then again, given some of their nastier battles, he wondered if there’d ever been a soul in Dón-Dueli of the Dumnonii. They hadn’t called him the Dark One or Black Soul because of his hair color.
A knock sounded on the door.
“Enter.”
Thorn was ever impressed with the way Duel could command his voice to such a threatening intensity without actually raising it to a shout. As a warlord himself, he’d never quite perfected that shit-in-your-breeches growl to the same extent.