“Benefits of a heartless reputation, and quick sword arm.”
Thorn laughed at Devyl’s surly tone as he crossed the deck to stand by his side. Though he’d never admit it out loud, he actually held a lot of respect and affinity for the giant beast of a warrior. “Heartless for you is a step up, my brother.”
And yet there had been a time in his past when Thorn would have slit his own mother’s throat to have commanded a general as cold-blooded and ruthless as Devyl Bane. Even a warrior with half this demon’s incomparable skill set in battle. It was a good thing the boy hadn’t been born until long after Thorn had turned against his father and abandoned his cause for a far more nobler and kinder goal.
As united warlords, they would have brought this world to its bloody knees and ruled every part of terra firma.
In retrospect, a terrifying thought. So thank God Bane had been born centuries later and none of Thorn’s original generals had been this fierce or capable. Or willing to slit a throat to win a battle or hold their lands.
Devyl glanced about the top deck as a strange sensation went down his spine. And this time it wasn’t from Thorn’s presence here.
Nay, there was another powerful entity here. One trying not to let him sense it and yet unable to remain hidden from him.
“So what’s this about, Santiago?”
Rafe motioned for them to follow him below.
Wary and highly suspicious, Devyl cast another jaundiced gaze around the ship and its crew before he climbed down, with Thorn right behind him.
Irritating bastard that he was.
It only took a moment for Devyl’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. But the scent down here was unmistakable.
Unique and revolting to any beast who was familiar with it.
Like dried musk, mixed with something soured. It sent a chill down his spine. He instinctively moved his hand to his sword and prepared to confront something that should be dead and buried.
Or better yet, burned beyond all recognition and scattered to the four winds so as never to rise again.
Rafe lit a lantern. “At first, we thought it a jumbie.”
“It is a jumbie.” Only this one didn’t live in a silk-cotton tree.
It was a Blackthorn. One of the deadliest of its breed.
“Dón-Dueli…” The creature’s voice was low and husky, and filled with malevolence. “Free me, my lord, and I will serve you again.”
He felt his eyes begin to turn. Something verified by the crew, who scrambled madly for the ladders to escape being belowdecks with him.
Only Rafe held his ground. “Should I ask about that?” He jutted his chin toward Devyl’s eyes.
“Not really.” Devyl paused to glance around. “Did you find anyone around it?” He inclined his head toward the demon in the cage. A demon that swayed like a tree in a breeze only it could see or feel.
“Nay. We discovered her on a ghost ship. No one was on board and no traces of the crew remained. Not even a bone fragment. We assumed they’d abandoned ship to escape her.”
They’d most likely been eaten before they had a chance to flee. Devyl winced at the poor, unsuspecting bastards’ fates.
“She seemed friendly enough at first. Told us sickness had claimed the others. Then she went for my throat … with fangs bared.”
Of course she did.
Devyl folded his arms over his chest. “How did you capture her?”
Rafe pointed to the talisman he wore on a black cord around his neck. “My mother’s protection. When she came for me, my mother’s spell knocked her out. Thank God for that. We bound her here, and haven’t gone near the cage since, except to toss food and water at her.”
Too bad that wasn’t what the creature needed to sustain her ill-begotten form.
Devyl cast his gaze to Rafael. “How is your mother?” He’d only seen her once, when Rafael had been transporting her to his home so that she could meet the pirate’s intended. And yet, she’d been a woman of extreme kindness and grace. One of the purest, gentlest souls he’d ever known.
Sadness darkened his eyes. “She took ill last winter and passed.”
Damn shame, that. The world could use more people with the integrity and decency of Santiago’s mother. “My deepest condolences.”
“Thank you.”
“Aye,” Thorn said earnestly. “Sorry for your loss.”
Rafe rubbed at his necklace. “At least I was with her at the end. And my father, as well. And it was peaceful. There are worse things in life, and I like to think she was watching over me and my crew when we came upon this creature.”
No doubt. Something exceptionally powerful had to have been protecting them. It was a rare, rare beast who encountered a hostile Deruvian and survived.
Especially when they didn’t know what they were facing and the creature had gone Winter on them—a term Devyl’s race had coined for anyone who embraced the dark ways of Marcelina’s people. Judging by this one, she’d been Winter for quite some time, too.
And having been married and bonded to one, Devyl had more experience with one in Winter than most. His stomach pitching with disgust and anger, he neared the cage where she watched him from a pair of hate-filled whisky-colored eyes. She lay in chains. Her black hair gnarled and greasy. Malnourished from her captivity, she held a grayish tint to her skin, and her veins appeared black beneath it. Thorny.
Yet even with that, her lips were a vibrant, unnatural shade of red.
“Blackthorn … where’s your partner?”
Sinister laughter answered his question. “Where is yours?”
Hissing, he rushed toward the bars, wanting to rip out her heart and eat it raw until he was whole again himself. Like her, it’d been too long since he’d fed on what sustained him, and he was starving for what he really needed.
Still, she offered him a cold smile. “Anger you, did I, Majesty?”
“Don’t play this game with me. I could use a good bonfire.” He raked her with a meaningful glare as he imagined her being consumed by the flames. That form of a death sentence for her race was what had led to the burning of witches in mankind’s history. Not knowing about the Deruvians, Christians had taken up the punishment Devyl’s people had once reserved solely for hers and used it against innocent humans. Even the test to see if witches floated in water came from the fact that Deruvian bones were made of wood, and it was how earlier human tribes had once identified her species when they didn’t have access to his people to help them determine Deruvian threat.
Foolish humans. They had no idea what they were dealing with. No idea that the only way to kill a Deruvian was to burn them completely and then scatter the charred ashes over water so that they couldn’t take root and regenerate.
Otherwise, the bastards returned even angrier and more vicious and vengeful as enemies. Not human sorcerers. Rather, preternatural creatures with powers far beyond mortal comprehension.