Deadmen Walking (Deadman's Cross, #1)

The irony that they still used his mother’s family symbol of a tree and bird, white on black, wasn’t lost on him.

With hair as white as snow and darker skin that fair glistened in the mystical sunlight of the realm, they were more beautiful than any creature ever spat out of the universal abyss.

And more loathsome and corrupt.

These were the Adoni. Known as fair elves to much of the world, they were the bane of Devyl’s existence, as was evidenced by the male’s name, which said it all about not only the Adoni, but the character of this particular bastard’s family.…

Flaithrí álfljótrsson.

álfljótr, meaning “ugly elf” or “horrible” or “treacherous.” That had been his father’s name, hence the “-sson” added to the end of it. The mere fact a mother had given such a moniker to her child also spoke volumes about their family dynamics and why Devyl was such a bastard himself, given that the same blood flowed through his veins.

Devyl stepped past Mara to greet them away from his men. They slowed the instant they saw him. At first, he wasn’t sure he was recognized.

Not until Flaithrí’s gaze swept over his body and his eyes widened. He held his gloved hand up to stay the ten Adoni warriors who were with him.

William and Bart moved to stand at Devyl’s back.

“Friend or foe, Captain?” William asked.

Devyl scratched at his chin as he considered how to answer. “Not sure.” He narrowed his gaze on the riders. “So what’s it to be, cousin Flowery? Are we friends?”

His nostrils flared. “Flah-ree,” he ground out between clenched teeth in the lyrical accent that marked all of their race.

“As I said, Florian—”

“FLAH-ree!” he growled even louder.

William laughed. “Well then, nice to know I’m not the only one you antagonize in such a manner.”

Devyl cut a menacing glare to him.

He held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not questioning your cantankerous nature, Captain. Far be it from me.”

Crossing his arms, he returned his attention to the matter at hand. “So, cousin Flowery, what’s it to be? Blood or wine?”

“I hate you, Dón-Dueli. Your mother should have drowned you the moment she went to wash the afterbirth from you.”

“And yours should have fed you to her hounds.”

Bart cleared his throat suddenly. “Um, Captain? Not questioning you in any way, sir. But is it wise to antagonize them so, given what’s likely to show any second and renew what we just left?”

He passed an irritated smirk at Bart. “Given that I be the rightful king of the throne Flowery’s father currently parks his arse upon, aye. I dare them to question me.” He turned back to his cousin. “That not right, Flowery? Or have you finally found the bullocks to behead your father and come for me?”

He stiffened visibly in his saddle. “What would you have of me … Majesty?” The word was more insult than title of honor.

Ignoring the slight, Devyl glanced over his shoulder as he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

Gadreyal was about to pierce the veil and come after them. He could feel it like a tangible touch on his skin.

“You might want to gather up some troops.”

Flaithrí arched his brow. “Might I inquire as to why?”

No sooner had he asked the question than Devyl’s enemies brought down the shield and found their way into his grandfather’s realm.

Devyl smiled coldly at Flaithrí. “No particular reason, other than if you don’t, you’re going to have something a lot worse than me to worry about.”





19

Devyl’s men scrambled to their positions as the Iri broke through and spilled into the meadow behind them.

“Bloody hell,” Flaithrí cursed as he stood in his stirrups to get a better look. Then he cast a hate-filled grimace down to Devyl. “Did you bring the whole lot of those fetid mongrels here?”

Unsheathing his sword, Devyl shrugged. “Left a few of the smaller ones behind. No need in being greedy.”

Flaithrí began a rush of epithets for Devyl as he used his powers to summon his enchanted armor. He turned to his companion on the right. “Get to my father and summon the watch force. Tell him what we’ve got. Let’s send these bastards back to where they crawled from.”

His companion’s dappling horse stretched out wings from its side. He backed the horse up and launched him into flight.

Devyl summoned his own armor. Now that they were out of the human realm, the rules of engagement were entirely different.

And they were entirely his.

“All right, me hearties! Let’s show these futtocking bastards what we Deadmen be made of.” He added fire to his own sword and made ready for battle.

Time for holding back was gone. They were on dry land and in the realm of his grandfather’s people. If Vine and Gadreyal wanted a fight, he was more than ready to give it.…

With the full ferocity of his entire lineage burning deep within his heart and gullet. One thing about the Aesir, they caved to none, and nothing lit their fuses brighter than the promise of a good, coming brawl.

Mara grasped his arm as he started past her. “Duel?”

Pausing by her side, he waited for her to take him to task for his warring ways.

Instead, she offered him a winsome smile. “Kick their tossling arses. Don’t get hurt.”

He lifted the visor of his helm so that he could give her a quick kiss. He should probably show restraint before the others, especially given the amount of shocked gasps he heard, but in the event this was his last moment with her, he didn’t want to die again with another regret.

Let his men know that he and Mara had finally put the past behind them and come to terms that were agreeable to them both.

Nay, they were better than agreeable. Better than anything he’d ever hoped to have.

And if he must die this day, he wanted to go back to his hell with the taste and feel of her lips fresh in his memory. Aye, with that, he could die in peace and be all right.

Mara fisted her hand in Duel’s hauberk. It took everything she had to make herself let go, knowing he was about to face the Cimmerian army again. How strange that she’d once hated that enchanted black armor—had thought it the ugliest, most vile thing she’d ever laid eyes to. Now, she wished it were thicker and even more enchanted. Anything to keep him safe from harm.

So she added her own spell to it.

Please come back to me. Keeping herself together right now was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Especially when what she really wanted was to take on her tree form and wrap herself around him until she was an impenetrable cage that no one would break to get to him.

If only he’d allow it.…

His gaze scorched her as he pulled away and gently kissed her hand, then let go. It felt as if he ripped her heart out and carried it with him. Never had anything burned so badly.

Or cut so deep.

Without a word, he went toward Sallie.

“Ready to free your fighting soul, Mr. Lucas?”

“Be it safe here, Captain?”