Deadmen Walking (Deadman's Cross, #1)

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 beard 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.”