“Really? Rumor has it, it was once your most cherished melody.”
Hitting the release for his sling bow, Devyl passed an annoyed grimace to him. “Nay, the sweetest music to my ears has always been the death gurgle of an enemy slain at my feet as he gasps his last breath.” Completely calm, he loaded the small bolt and released it straight into the skull of the nearest plat-eye.
The beast fell back and exploded into a black cloud.
Stunned, the other two turned to gape at Devyl. Then they must have realized who and what they faced.
Their eyes widened in unison before they shifted into wolf form and ran for the door.
But Devyl’s power was greater than theirs and he held them inside.
Will grinned. “That got their attention, Captain.”
As soon as the plat-eyes realized they couldn’t escape, they shifted into their true hideous demonic bodies. Then they each split into three more beasts to attack.
Will cursed. “Vulnerable spot?”
“Between the eyes. Decapitation.” Devyl caught the first one to reach him and twisted his head off. “But it won’t kill them.”
“Pardon?” Will visibly paled.
He took out two more before he turned to face the man. “Creatures of vengeance and lapdogs. These are shadow manifestations.” He caught a fourth one with his knife and drove it straight through its skull. “To kill them for good, we have to find the bodies they assumed when they entered this realm and destroy them.”
Will growled before he drew his sword and dispatched the one that came at his back. “I hate me job, Captain.”
Devyl finished off the last, then quickly spread a compound of yew, salt, and ground jasper over the doorframe. That would keep more plat-eyes from coming inside to prey here again.
Will retrieved Devyl’s coat and rushed to join him as the crowd began to realize the danger had passed. Now, they wanted answers neither of them was at liberty to give. And before the crowd could compose themselves further, Devyl and Will made a fast exit.
Outside the tavern, the moon had turned an eerie bloodred, and clouds hung thick in the sky, making it even darker.
Handing the coat to Devyl, Will grimaced. “So those are not the beasts we seek either?”
Devyl shook his head as he shrugged his coat on. “They’re merely servants.”
Will winced. “In our last few months together, I have seen unbelievable things that appear to have been spat out of hell itself. And I can’t help but wonder just what exactly does the Carian Gate hold back from this world, if we haven’t seen it yet?”
Fastening his cuff, Devyl met his worried stare with a knowing smirk. “The most corrupt, horrifying evil that ever gurgled up from the farting arse of the cosmos.”
“Lucifer?”
He snorted and clapped Will on the back. “We should be so lucky. Nay, Mr. Death … what’s coming up from the sea makes Lucifer look like a petulant, harmless child.”
Will crossed himself. “What exactly is it, then?”
Devyl sobered at the memory as a wave of bitterness and fury washed over him and burned him to the core of his blackened and withered soul. “In short, Mr. Death … my ex-wife.”
2
Cameron had to struggle to keep up with Bart’s long, forceful strides that she was beginning to suspect he did apurpose just to wind her. “So how long have you served on Captain Bane’s crew?”
He cursed her under his breath.
Again.
Honestly, she was beginning to develop a mental disorder over it. And an extreme case of paranoia.
“How many of these questions do you plan to assault me with, lass?”
“I know not. But I should like to have an answer to at least one of them … eventually. And before I die of frustration from it.”
He ground his teeth so furiously that she could actually hear them gnashing together. “Would it perchance stop this aggravating deluge?”
“Might quell it some.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Bart slowed as they finally approached the docks and gave her a sideways glare. While not as breathtaking as the captain, he was exceptionally handsome with those piercing eyes. “All of us are new to the ill-tempered captain’s company.
He assembled our crew a few months ago.”
“What happened to his old crew?”
The moonlight cast spooky shadows over his sharp features, turning them sinister and cold. “There are many questions that are best left unasked, my lady. And that particular one definitely tops the list.”
Perhaps, but it wasn’t in her nature to let things rest. “Did pirates kill them?”
He gave her a sardonic smile.
“They say he ate them.”
Cameron jumped as a thickly accented French voice came out of the shadows next to her. With an undignified squeak, she rushed to the other side of Bart, who laughed at her actions.
“Leave off the lass, Roach. Captain’s orders.”
“Lass?”
“Roach?” she asked in perfect synchronization with his question as the man stepped into the light so that she could see that he was a few years older than Bart. And quite a bit shorter.
Nowhere near as fashionable in his dress, he had a simple linen cap and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, held there by a bit of leather cord. And while he had a neckerchief, the collar of his shirt had been left unbuttoned and open so that the cloth was wound about his neck and not his shirt. His brown gloves were as worn as the dark red waistcoat he left unbuttoned. But the most curious thing was the whip he had around his tan-colored breeches in place of a belt.
Nor did he carry a sword. Rather, he had a baldric that secured a small double-headed hand-axe to his left hip. And now that he was closer, she realized he had flesh-colored vambraces.…
Nay, not vambraces. They were cleverly disguised dagger sheaths, which was why his shirt was tied up at the sleeves. That allowed him access to the hilts that were on the inside of his forearm and tucked into the crook of his elbow.
Very, very peculiar.
Bart rubbed at his brow. “Milady Cameron Jack, meet our resident cockroach, so named for the shadows he calls home and the way he scutters about them and sneaks up on everyone. Some claim so that he can cut their throats for profit and theft.”
The Frenchman made a rude sound of disgust. “Ignore the mannerless, motherless snipe. Armand de la Roche at your service, madame.” He clicked his heels together and gave her a proper court bow that was completely at odds with his shabby, careless clothing. “Enchanté.”
“Merci, monsieur. Ravi de vous rencontrer.”
Covering his heart, he acted as if he savored every syllable. “You speak beautifully and yet I detect a hint of an Irish lilt in your voice.”
“Me mother was French and me father Irish. They brought us to Virginia when I was a small child.”
“Us?”
“Her brother.” There was a note of ice in Bart’s tone that Cameron didn’t quite understand. “Now, Roach, if you don’t mind…”
He stepped in front of them to cut off their path. “Pardon, Monsieur Meers … mais you do not want to be doing that.”