They were also close friends. How close, Devyl wasn’t sure. But he’d heard Valynda speaking to him whenever she thought no one else was around. And obviously, Nibo thought enough of her that he’d negotiated with Baron Samedi to bring her back to life so that she could join their crew. It wasn’t something either of them did lightly. Or anything they were known for.
Dressed in a black coat with a bright purple sash and shirt, Nibo was in his human form—ethereally beautiful, with dark curly hair and chiseled features. As usual, he was accompanied by his “twin” companions, Masaka and Oussou. Yet for being called twins, they were complete opposites of each other. Masaka a tall, androgynous woman who wore a small white tricorne emblazoned with skulls that matched her jacket and breeches, and a black ruffled shirt. Her skin was as dark as Oussou’s was pale. And while her hair was black, Oussou’s matched her bone-colored coat. Dressed in a black gravedigger’s jacket that held a white cross on each sleeve, he had his pale braids covered with a black tricorne that was festooned with mauve feathers.
A smile spread across Oussou’s handsome face that said he was savoring the coming battle as he handed Nibo his skull cane. In turn, Nibo passed to Oussou his bottle of white rum that held medicinal herbs. Oussou took a deep drink of the rum while Nibo pulled the head of the cane to reveal the sharp saber inside it. He handed the scabbard to Masaka. She held it up and bent it in the center. It immediately broke apart and crawled down her sleeves like twin snakes to form a thorny set of knives along her forearms.
Though they were members of the Ghede loa nanchon, they had much more in common with their warring Petro cousins. Fiery to their bones. There was nothing the three of them liked more than to raise hell and brawl.
Well, there was one thing they liked better. But the fury in their eyes said that their passion right now wasn’t carnal. They craved the same blood Devyl could taste.
And their combined presence here made Gadreyal shrink back. She hovered over the ground with a jaundiced eye at the increase in their number.
“You can’t wield Michael’s blood,” she snarled at Devyl. “It’s more likely to kill you than serve you.”
“Then why are you so afraid all of a sudden?”
She threw her axe at him. Devyl caught it in his hand, kissed it, and hurled it back.
His reward was another shrill shriek. And he knew this was a ruse to buy Vine more time. Every second that passed was critical for Mara.
They all knew it.
While his cousin led in his own attack, Devyl gave the signal to his crew to renew their battle with everything they had. He hated to leave them, but he had no choice.
For the first time ever, he understood the Deruvian code—that one life was indeed far more precious than all others combined. Aye, it was that very selfishness he’d once hated Vine and her entire Vanir race over.
Maybe he was more Vanir than he wanted to admit. But right now, nothing mattered to him.
Nothing except Mara.
The world could burn for all he cared. Without Mara, it didn’t deserve to be here.
He could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears as he left the field of battle to teleport to Tiveden.
No sooner had he materialized on the side of the tallest hill than he drew up short to find his ex-wife in all her fiery glory. Right down to the orange and red dress that appeared to move like living flames in the fading sun.
“You’re too late,” Vine gloated the moment she saw him. “I’ve planted you here and here you will stay.”
His knees went weak at her declaration. “You didn’t plant me here—’twas Mara’s harthfret you stole.”
She paled. For a moment, the black veins left her skin as confusion lined her brow. It was obvious she was trying to discern whether or not he was lying. “What?”
“Had you asked, I’d have gladly given you mine to keep her safe. You should have known that, Vine. I always protected Mara over anyone.”
That had the desired effect on her. She let loose an insane cry before she started toward him.
Yet before she could reach him, the ground on the hill began to tremble and boil. Like a living, starving beastie, it rose and fell, and percolated with such force that Vine squealed and danced away from it.
Half expecting something foul to emerge out of the chaos, Devyl stumbled and barely caught himself before he went sprawling.
“What have you done?” Vine gasped accusingly.
He shook his head as he struggled to comprehend it. Never had he seen the like. “Nothing. That is not me.”
Smoke billowed up in sharp, inky black spirals. They danced in an invisible breeze until they began to slowly twine about and take the shape and form of a woman.
Devyl held his breath, praying silently for a miracle.
But to his utter disappointment it wasn’t Mara they formed.
The shape was too short and flat about the bosom to be his better half. Yet there was something vaguely familiar to that outline. Something that wiggled in the back of his mind.
Suddenly, he knew exactly why.
Nay … this could not be.
It’s not possible.
His breath catching in his throat, Devyl froze as shock claimed him fully. And still there was no denying the woman who manifested in front of them.
“Elf?” His voice shook with uncertainty. “Is it really you, lass?”
Like a newborn fawn, she worked her face as if trying to remember how to speak. How to see. She stared down at her hands and wiggled her fingers, then scowled at Vine.
Color flooded into his sister’s pale cheeks. The air began to stir to a fierce level. It whipped at Elf’s hair, spiraling it into tendrils and plastering her burgundy dress against her lithe body.
“You sought to harm my brother?” she finally spoke.
Her features pale, Vine stumbled back. She glanced at Strixa and then Devyl. “What is this?” Her mouth worked soundlessly before she choked out, “How is this?”
He wasn’t sure, except for one thing.…
“You must have buried Elf’s harthfret instead of Mara’s.” Though how it could regenerate her after all these centuries, he had no idea. He’d never heard of such.
It wasn’t possible.
On furious impulse, he’d reclaimed Elf’s harthfret that day when he’d gone into Mara’s nemeton. Like a frenzied beast, he’d dug through the wood and earth until he found it at the base of the tree where she’d planted it.
For years, he’d tried to regenerate her.
Nothing had ever worked. Never had it taken root, and so he’d set it into a signet ring to keep it forever with him.
So aye, he was with Vine in one way only … how the futtocking hell was this possible?
Vine started to leave, but something held her in place.
Elf’s breathing turned ragged as she stalked toward his ex-wife like a vicious predator with cornered prey. “You do not escape here. You do not escape me.” Her voice was no longer the sweet lilt he’d known from his younger sister. It was demonic and fierce. “You wanted war?” Elf blasted her. “By all means, have some!”
Vine screamed as fire consumed her. Holding her hands up, she tried to save herself, but it was useless. The fire spread quick and fast, and engulfed her entirely.