“How much water are we taking on?” he gasped as he struggled to carry her.
Marcelina groaned as she clung to him—an action that betrayed the depths of her injuries. Otherwise she’d die afore she touched the likes of him. “I’m trying to close the gap.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Thank you, Du.”
“For what?”
“Not rubbing my nose in this.”
He answered with a grimace as he kicked open the door to her room and carried her to her frilly bed that looked more like a cloud than a place of rest. With a gentleness he resented, he set her down and staggered back, intending to leave. Unfortunately, he only made it to the opposite side of the small room before his own misery drove him to his knees. Damn … it’d been a long time since anything hurt him this much.
Glowering, he grimaced at her. “What hit us?”
“Not sure. I told William to keep Kalder from the sea, lest it kill him. Whatever it is, it’s a foul beast that has ripped me asunder.”
With a bitter half laugh, he met her gaze. “Well then, ’tis high time I met him and thanked him personally for this stomachache.”
Mara gaped as she watched Du push himself up. “You can’t be serious?”
Yet against all odds, he managed to stand. “He wants a fight … I’ll give him one.”
And with that, he was gone.
Mara shrieked in frustration as she called him back, knowing it was futile. Duel listened to no one.
Ever.
“You stubborn, stubborn fool!” What was it in him that he could never back down from a confrontation of any kind? She’d never seen anything like it.
Coughing and choking, she rolled from her bed and tried to go after him. What good would it do if he got himself killed?
Again.
He’d take her with him to the grave. Then what would become of their crew?
Of the world they were sworn to protect?
Then again, what did she expect from someone who’d been born of such a violent race? All he knew was bloodshed and killing. Mayhem. Chaos.
Yet she couldn’t quite forget the gentleness of his touch as he’d carried her to her bed. Even while he’d been in pain, and though it must have galled him to come to her rescue after he’d warned her of Mona’s treachery, his touch had been as gentle as a fairy’s kiss.
Just as he’d been kind to Cameron even though he’d known her origins. As much as he hated the Seraphim. As much as he hated Menyara.
And why shouldn’t he hate them all? He’d sold his soul to the dark forces to keep the Romans out of their lands. Had tapped forbidden power and the blackest magick to make himself king and ensure that no one could ever defeat him. He’d fought against Thorn and the Sarim for years. Had laid waste to every army they’d dared send against him. Gutted any man who’d tried to take his crown or questioned his authority in any manner.
After years of living in hell with the oafish brute, Mara had been delighted when she’d learned that Menyara had combined her forces with Thorn’s and planned to move against Du in an all-out attempt to overthrow him and end his bloody reign and life. She had been sure they’d finally defeat him and free her from their godforsaken bond.
But that hadn’t happened.
Instead, Du’s army, at his command, had torn them asunder. He’d scattered their forces and set them ablaze with a zeal that still caused the bile to rise in her throat whenever she thought about it, or the way he’d returned home afterward. Triumphant. Jubilant.
Giddy.
He’d laughed as he recounted the carnage in gory detail. Worse? He’d mocked her for the fact that she didn’t share in his merriment over such raw brutality.
“What’s the matter, Mara? No stomach for it?” he’d asked while he drank warm, mulled red wine from the stained skull of the largest soldier he’d killed in battle.
That had left her retching for days.
Nay. She’d never had any stomach for the lot of it. And even less for blood and gore.
Unlike him.
But that being said, never once had he ever acted ignobly toward an innocent. Never slaughtered a child or raped a woman. Nor had he allowed his men to do such. If they killed a woman, they were punished harshly for it.
Indeed, for all his evil ways, he wasn’t one for deceit of any kind. Duel came at his enemies in the open. Well announced. And usually with a great deal of fanfare.
It was virtually his only endearing quality.
But now that she thought about it, he had a number of … well “good” was a stretch.
Better traits?
He could be extremely tolerant of others. Where many would be put off by the flamboyant and oft-eccentric ways of his crew, Duel was practically indulgent of them all, no matter how peculiar their quirks. He never said a word about Sancha’s extreme language or drinking. Or Belle’s pungent spells that required some rather noxious ingredients. He guarded Sallie’s soul bottle as a sacred object and made sure no one harassed Kat and Simon for their unconventional relationship. Indeed, he’d even performed a marriage ceremony for them without lifting so much as an eyebrow over it.
She was the only one he was openly rude to. And much of that was her own fault. She did bait him unnecessarily and without cessation.
Much like a nagging spouse …
Feeling a foreign twinge of guilt, she forced herself to stand, and followed after him.
On the upper deck, she found Duel locked in battle with a giant squidlike monster that was rising from the water, breathing fire and trying its best to engulf them all. He and Zumari, along with William, Bart, Belle, and the rest, were throwing their own fire and tar grenades at the beast. Shooting cannons.
Nothing deterred it.
With fangs as large as a man, it snapped at them, and reached with its barbed tentacles, trying to flay them where they stood. Several of their crew were lying on deck, wounded, while others tended them.
She used her own powers to keep the ship upright even though she could feel the lower deck taking on water. The sensation made her sluggish and sick. Tipsy. But if she gave in to the weakness, it could kill them all.
That she could never allow.
If Duel could find it within him to fight in the same condition, then it was the least she could do to carry on for them all, as well.
But it was so hard. The rocking wasn’t helping. It left her weak and disoriented. Her stomach pitched as a wave of nausea threatened to undignify her before them all.
“Dammit, Mara!” Duel snarled as soon as he caught sight of her on deck. “Get below!”
She shook her head. “You fight. I fight.”
The curse he let out rang high over the roar of battle. Impressive indeed.
But not nearly as much as the sudden explosion that sent wood, water, and pieces of the beast flying over the lot of them.
“What the hell!” Devyl ducked as the sea itself rained down on him. Along with a lot of blood and intestines.