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.
William drew up short as he saw Thorn in the cabin. “Beg pardon for the interruption, but we’ve got a bit of a situation and wanted your input, Captain.”
Devyl let out a weary sigh. “Who has Sallie’s soul now?”
“Not that. There’s a ship approaching fast off the starboard aft. She just hoisted her colors.”
He arched a questioning brow.
William swallowed hard before he answered. “Red jack.”
A pirate flag. Take no prisoners. Show no mercy. Death to all.
No prey. No pay.
A slow smile spread across Devyl’s lips. “Slow her down, Mr. Death. Swing her about and, by all means, let the bitches catch up.”