“Indeed. If it wreaks havoc in this realm before, during, or after the battle, more’s the merrier.”
Sallie cracked a happy grin. “All right, then. Here’s to me blessed mum and to all things what come of good rum!” He uncorked his bottle, and when he did, a fierce, shrieking wind tore out of it. One that quelled and captivated every Deadman near them.
Better still, it spooked Flaithrí’s and his companions’ horses and dumped an arrogant Flaithrí straight on his arse. And when he rose, he came up cursing everything about Devyl.
And his men.
In virtual unison, their jaws dropped as the wind encircled Sallie, transforming him like a jinn into a huge, muscled berserker—complete with long braids and a double-headed axe. One he flexed over his head as he growled in grave invitation of the blood he planned to feed to his weapon this day.
“God’s pointed bodikin…” Bart turned to Devyl. “You knew about this, Captain?”
Devyl flashed a wicked grin. “’Course. Captain knows everything about his ship and crew. It’s why I kept telling the lot of you to leave the man’s soul alone afore one of you foolishly let loose the beast in the bottle.”
Bart choked as he watched Sallie grow to stand even taller than he, and take on the youth that had cruelly been stripped from him when his soul had been savagely severed from his body without his permission.
Zumari scowled. “I don’t understand.”
With a knowing grin, Devyl shrugged. “’Twas a curse placed upon him when he came up short a sorcerer years ago. He can only let his soul out when he’s on the battlefield. You don’t want to know what happens when it’s released during peace.”
“Let them learn it once, Captain,” Sallie said with his own grin. “They’ll never forget it thereafter.”
“Duly noted.” Bart cleared his throat as he respectfully gave Sallie a bit more room to maneuver. “One more thing, Captain … any pointers on how we’re to win this?”
“Don’t die. Be the last man standing.”
“Good to know. Pointers on how to kill them, then?”
“Cut off the head. If that doesn’t work? Run like hell, preferably faster than the poor bloke beside you. Might want to consider tripping him if he proves to be faster.”
“Beautiful. I so look forward to these deep, meaningful discussions and motivational speeches from you that leave me bullocks completely shrunk and shriveled.”
Laughing, Devyl lowered his visor for battle. “Better the bullocks than the brains. And better both than your courage.”
Bart snorted. “Not sure about that. Especially given what’s coming at us.” He saluted Devyl with his sword. “In case I go down and forget to say it … been an honor serving with you, sir.”
“And with you, Mr. Meers. Here’s to taking them before they take us, and if they do, making sure they join us for the descent into hell.”
“Amen, coz. Amen.” And with that, he left Devyl to head straight into the fray.
As Devyl started forward, a foreign chill went up his spine. He turned to see if it was Zumari, but the man was already embroiled in a fierce fight. For a moment, he thought it might be Vine.
Until a shadow on his left moved.
Now that was all kinds of peculiar. Scowling, he braced himself for an assault.
Instead, the shadow came to wrap around him and whisper in his ear with a soft, feminine lilt. “Thorn has sent me with a gift for you. He wants you to know that he hasn’t abandoned you, but will be here as soon as he’s able.” With those words spoken, she pressed something into his palm.
Then, as suddenly as she’d appeared, she was gone with nothing more than a mere breezy kiss across his flesh that was fully covered by his armor.
His scowl deepened the instant he opened his hand and saw what she’d given him.
Michael’s Seraph medallion. The very one Cameron had entrusted to Thorn.
So there it was.…
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, what without Miss Jack being here and all. It didn’t seem right for it to be returned now. And with that thought came the deluge of everything they had failed to accomplish. They hadn’t found the bodies from the Fleet disaster. The plat-eyes still had control of those poor bastards. He’d allowed Vine to escape her prison by not stopping it. Gadreyal had captured both Cameron and her brother—two mortals born with Michael’s blood.
And another gate had fractured.…
I seriously reek at my job.
Why Thorn had chosen him for this, he did not know. Perhaps the beast was a masochist. Or he’d taken so many blows to the head in battle that they’d finally addled him.
Devyl hadn’t felt this low or incompetent since the day he’d found his sister. Despair threatened to overwhelm him.
Until he glanced to Mara, who watched on with terrified fretting. I haven’t lost anything yet. Other than a little dignity, and that he could take. Honestly, he didn’t mourn its loss at all.
Just don’t let Mara get hurt. Losing her was the one thing he’d never come back from, and he knew it.
Determined to see this through, he let out a fierce war cry and ran straight to Gadreyal.
*???*???*
“Marcelina?”
Mara went cold at the sound of her sister’s voice. Prepared to give nothing away as to her thoughts or feelings, she turned toward her and was immediately taken aback by her sister’s incredible beauty. Strange how she’d forgotten just what a graceful, seductive creature Vine was. Why Duel would prefer her over Vine’s confident femme-fatale persona, she couldn’t imagine.
The man must be insane.
“Vine.” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice so steady and calm.
“You didn’t free me as you said you would, sister.”
It was only then that Mara realized Vine had used her powers to completely freeze William beside her. He couldn’t move at all.
Wanting to check on him, but terrified her sister would kill him if she did, she diverted Vine’s attention as best she could. “I was trying. Your friends sank my boat before I could get near your island.”
Vine tsked at her. “Think you I believe that lie?”
“We had a bargain, did we not?”
“Aye, we did.” Vine’s gaze went to Duel as he fought against the Cimmerian army. “But it seems you’ve been distracted. Not that I blame you. He is a fine specimen of manhood. Well formed and skilled in all the right ways.”
Mara barely caught the urge to slap her sister, and that wave of unexpected violence shocked her. She stilled her breathing and gathered her composure before it betrayed her and got them all killed. “You’ve never spoken so highly of him before.”
And then Mara saw it. Only a flash, but Vine’s perfect, porcelain complexion was lined with the black veins that exposed her sister’s illness.
“Are you Wintering?”