My own wife cut my throat.
Sighing, he placed a kiss to Mara’s palm and tucked her hand beneath her covers. His side still ached, but the pain had lessened, letting him know that the spell had begun to work.
What a futtocking bad day this had been.
But then he’d known going in it wasn’t going to be a boring one.
Dawn would be breaking soon. He had a fledgling Seraph on board, along with a Dark-Huntress who couldn’t be in daylight. One massive hole in the side of his ship. A crew of human pirates trailing them who were being pursued by an infamous pirate hunter who wanted a piece of them all. A motley band of dead lunatics at his command and the bitch of all time out to send him back to hell.
“It’s good to be the living dead,” he said with a bitter laugh.
But then he’d never been one to shirk from a challenge of any kind.
He was a surly bugger that way.
And honestly? He was looking forward to the fight.
Staring up at the heavens, he smirked. “Bring it, bitches. With both fists. You want a piece of me? I’m ready for you.”
Because they’d never gotten the best of him.
Even after they’d killed him, he’d still found a way to strike back from the grave.
One thing about the Devyl, he came with the heat of hell behind him and packing an army of demons in his wake. And if you knocked on his door for a fight, then you better be prepared for what you were asking.
It was a new day and the Devyl was here to get his due.
9
Mara awoke to the warmth of bright sunshine on her face and the welcomed scent of fresh salt water. Seagulls screeched from outside, along with the sounds of raucous laughter and jovial music. For a moment, she forgot where she was and thought herself a girl again. It felt and smelled just like the seaside town where she’d been born. Where she’d frolicked with her sisters in the nemeton.
But that happiness inside her heart didn’t last, because she knew this wasn’t ancient Cornwall.
And those weren’t her people out there.
Then again …
Perhaps they were. At least they were the closest thing she had to a family now. The thought lightened her spirit a bit, but it didn’t return the joy to her heart. Not really. Because it wasn’t the same. She hadn’t felt that raw, unmitigated happiness of homecoming in so long that she could barely remember the taste of it. The sensation of that long-forgotten friend.
All she recalled was loneliness.
Isolation.
Desolation.
An unending sense of despair, and unquenchable longing for family that she’d once known. Du had robbed her of so much. Not just her safety and normality, he’d taken away all semblance of belonging to a community.
His people had been so incredibly violent and callous. Animals who wore itchy wool and lived in spartan hovels. Warriors more at home on a battlefield than at a feast. Their belief had been that you were judged more on how you died than on how you lived. And warriors who died in the midst of bloody battle were rewarded far greater than those who’d lived long, honorable lives and died peacefully in their sleep, surrounded by family.
And that had never been the belief of her race.
She shuddered at her memories of having been forced into Duel’s world of violence and mayhem. They had never gotten along.
Yet for reasons unknown, he’d hesitated to kill her that day he’d come to her adult nemeton. She still didn’t know why. Any more than she understood why her sister had killed him.
Nothing made sense in this world.
But at least she appeared to be healed now. Grateful that Duel had kept his word, she pushed herself up and went to see where they were.
As she reached the upper deck, Mara expected them to still be at sea.
Instead, they were docked on an island, and she’d slept through most of the day. The sun hung low in the sky, casting shadows across the palms and greenery, while fishermen, merchants, sailors, and those inclined to less than legal means of support scurried about their business on the docks.
But the most curious of all had been left aboard her own ship, while the others appeared to have taken a short liberty ashore. Mara scowled at the two inseparable humans who were working on swabbing the deck. Though to be honest, they were far more engrossed in swapping insults than completing their assigned task.
Jake Devereaux and Blake Landrey. Rugged and tough, they were opposite in every way. One tall, the other short. One plump, the other emaciated. One fair and the other darker than sin. Yet they were best mates and forever fighting over every little thing. She’d never seen anything quite like them.
“Would you stop with the shifting the bucket while I be mopping, Jake? What’s wrong with you, man?”
“Me? Ye be the idiot what’s moving it!”
Hinder Desai, who’d also been left behind to referee the two—lucky him for that punishment—let out an exasperated sigh as he raked his hand across his face and met Mara’s gaze. “Can I be killing them, mum? You think the captain would notice it?”
She laughed at his dire tone. “Probably. Where are we, Mr. Desai?”
He wiped at the sweat on his forehead, then pushed back his black hair before he answered. “Tortuga. We pulled in about two hours ago to make repairs. How are you feeling, mum?”
“Much better. Thank you.”
“Good. Do you need me to fetch anyone for you?”
She considered it. “Are most of the crew on board or on shore?”
“Shore, mum.”
As she figured, then. “Thank you, Mr. Desai.”
“Pleasure, mum.”
She wandered away as she considered his disclosure. It wasn’t like Du to clear the ship completely. What could he have been thinking?
Lost in thought, she collided with Kalder, who came out of nowhere to catch her against his lean, hard body. She gasped in startled alarm.
“You all right?” he asked quickly as he righted her.
“Aye. Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s all good. Captain told me to stay behind and keep an eye on you. Not get in your way. Least I accomplished half my mission.”
She laughed. “Where is he?”
“Chasing demons.”
Her chest tightened. “Was he fit for it?”
“Didn’t think it my place to question him, as I didn’t want my throat handed to me.”
She bit back a curse. “Where did he go?”
“That way.” He pointed toward the gangway.
She gave him a droll, irritated glare at the obvious answer, since that was the only way to leave the ship and it gave her no clue as to which way Duel had traveled once he’d reached shore. “Really?”
He shrugged teasingly.
“You know if the captain dies, Mr. Dupree, I go with him to the grave.”
“That would really be a bad day for those of us standing on the ship. Especially if we’re out to sea when it happens.” Screwing up his face, he scratched at his neck. “Except for me, of course. Wouldn’t matter, as I breathe water. But I’d sure feel bad for the rest.”
“Aye. ’Twould be bad for them, indeed.”