Deadmen Walking by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Thorn rolled his eyes at that bit of common knowledge about the Malachai, and at the clichéd ploy too many she-demons had used throughout the centuries to try and bring Adarian down. It was what had made the Malachai demon so incredibly powerful and dangerous. Because the Malachai alone took on the memories and powers of all his predecessors whenever he came of age and assumed his role as head badass, he became stronger with each generation. The current Malachai, Adarian, had lasted longer than any before him.
Lucky for humanity, Adarian hated Noir and Azura—the two primal gods he served and was bound to—and had escaped them to hide in the mortal realm. So long as Adarian remained free and apart from them here in the human plane, the world wouldn’t end. But if he were to ever make amends with them, or a she-demon ever mothered a Malachai son who could take down Adarian and assume his father’s powers and those of the previous Malachai …
Thorn would definitely kiss up to his father and sell out the world. It would be the only way to survive the ensuing holocaust.
That was what they all feared. The one Malachai who was prophesied to end the world and bring about the eternal reign of the demons.
Still, with that being said, the thought of Adarian absorbing new powers was even more terrifying to Thorn. Because sooner or later, whenever Adarian thought he had enough strength to pull off a coup, he’d go after Noir and Azura to get his complete freedom from the two of them, and that battle wouldn’t be any better for the world.
Might even be worse, given Adarian’s inherent sense of entitlement and hatred.
Worse still, his bloodlust.
And Thorn ought to know. He’d been caught up in the previous such war that had almost ended all existence as humanity knew it. Because win, lose, or draw, the Malachai would not go back into his box, and Noir and Azura lacked the powers to kill him. They could only enslave their favorite pet.
Which was also part of the prophecy.
One day, the Malachai would slay the gods of old and replace them all. And once they were gone, and their curse with them, their Malachai demon would reign as the supreme power of the universe and rebuild his bloodline.
Another army of Malachai would rise and no one would be able to stand against them.
Neither god, nor man. Nor any preternatural creature.
They would all burn and kowtow to him.
The only hope was an obscure legend of the Excambiare Malachai. Like the firstborn Malachai, known as Monakribos, this one would be conceived from an equal share of the light and dark powers. Whereas Monakribos held a father of light and a mother of dark, the Excambiare would have a mother of light and a Malachai father of utter darkness.
The Excambiare’s birth would complete the Malachai cycle and restore the balance that had been shifted by the thousands of Malachai who’d come along after Monakribos. It would break the curse that had been placed on the Malachai bloodline by the primal gods, and shatter the Malachai’s Cimmerian bonds. He would be free to serve himself, and no longer be bound solely to evil.
After all these centuries, the Malachai would exist as a fully balanced creature.
Regression to the mean. It was, after all, what the universe ever endeavored to achieve. And as one of those chosen tools it used to maintain such a balance, Thorn was well used to the games the universe played.
But no one really believed in the legend. Mostly because of how a Malachai was conceived.
They were born from acts of extreme and utter violence. It was why their mothers were almost always demons. Humans rarely survived sex with their hated breed, and the Malachai avoided the gods because divinity tended to heap even more curses upon their already damned bloodline.
So the concept of a birth mother born on the side of light, loving her Malachai child, was inconceivable and about as likely as Thorn embracing his father and having a beer with the beast.
Of course, it didn’t help that as soon as any child of Adarian’s reached the age of puberty and showed any signs of holding a Malachai’s powers, Adarian slaughtered him and ate the boy’s abilities whole.
The last time that had happened, it’d been bloody enough.
Now …
“How is Adarian so strong if he’s not living with Noir and Azura?”
Gabriel grimaced as he killed the demon in front of him and swung around to face Thorn. “Like the parasite he is, he feeds on human hatred and violence. God knows, there’s plenty of that to go ’round. He’s found a way to channel it to his own powers, so when he slaughtered this most recent child, some of the gates crashed.”
“And his generals?”
“So far, none of them have escaped their prisons to rush to his side. Let us pray it remains so.”
Definitely. That was the last thing they needed on top of this mess—the release of the Riders of the Apocalypse.
Yeah, he’d like to avoid dealing with those pissed-off bitches for a bit longer.
“I have to warn Bane and the others.”
Gabriel caught Thorn’s arm as he started to withdraw. “You know the rules. You interfere now and you’ll end their parole.”
Thorn’s jaw went slack. “What of Michael’s medallion?”
“You can return it later. But for now…” Gabriel swept his gaze over the desert battlefield where they were slowly losing more ground. “We need you here.”
Thorn scoffed. “Sarim asking for my help? Seriously?”
Yet this was what he’d always wanted. For them to accept him as one of them. Still, he knew not to put any faith in this day or their truce that wouldn’t last. This was nothing more than necessity. There was no true camaraderie here. No love.
He wasn’t one of them and they all knew it. But it was a chance to prove to them that he wasn’t the backbiting piece of his shit his father had been.
So he’d stay and fight.
However, as stated, he wasn’t the backbiting piece of shit his father had been. And he wasn’t about to leave the Deadmen out to hang either. Not with what was coming through this gate, or with the Carian. Not while they were depending on him to keep them notified and safe. He would never abandon his own men. In spite of his genes and what others thought of him.
Rules and codes be damned. They were his friends.
More than that, his Hellchasers were the closest thing to a family he’d ever known and he’d die before he let any of them down.
Falling back into the shadows of a palm tree, he used his powers to summon his sharoc companion. “Sorza!”
As dark as the sorrow she was named for, she appeared by his side. A mere wisp only he could see.
Thorn pulled the medallion from his pocket and handed it to her. “I need you to take this to Devyl. He’ll know what to do with it. And tell him that I haven’t abandoned him. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”
She scowled. “You’re bidding me to do good?”
“I am.”
That only baffled her more. But she faded away and left him to continue his fight.
Thorn lifted his shield and chased after a demon that was flying for Adidiron’s back. He didn’t get far before the demon turned to face him with a snide grin that was all too familiar.
Paimon.
Damn him.
“Hello, my son.”
Thorn shuddered at his “friendly” greeting. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why? It’s what you are, aren’t you?”
Thorn curled his lip. “Just because you carried my father’s sperm doesn’t make us related. Really, Paimon … you’re just a two-bit pimp doing whatever you’re told.”
“That makes your mother a whore, does it not?”
Thorn dodged the sword strike that would have severed his head had it made contact. “Your words are as clumsy as your fighting skills. My mother sold her soul to conceive me. That’s an undeniable fact. Call her what you will. Makes no never mind where I’m concerned.”
Mostly because his mother had hated him the moment he’d been born over said barga
Which was nothing compared to what his stepfather had done the day he’d learned of their bargain. And the fact that his “beloved son and heir” wasn’t really his, but rather a cruel hoax played on his gullible stupidity by a conniving bitch and her demon lover so that she could maintain her position and her lover could connive to steal his throne.
Aye, Thorn still had those scars.
Outside and in.
It was why he fought so hard now. No one should be used by others for their own gain. Damned because someone else was selfish and had sold them out without any regard for what it would mean to them once the truth became known. He’d had no choice in what had been done to him.
That anger and hatred had turned him into a monster at a time in his human existence when he should have been carefree and looking forward to a life well spent. Instead, he’d become the very thing his stepfather had wanted him to be—had trained him to be.
The fiercest warlord to ever lead his army over blood-saturated fields. And his stepfather’s head had been one of the first Thorn had claimed as a trophy—payback for the betrayal of casting him aside so very brutally over something he couldn’t help.
There, for a time, Thorn had been content and happy to play the beast, and slaughter everything he came into contact with.
Until the day he’d seen himself for what he really was. And that sight still haunted him in a way no demon or monster ever could. For he knew the truth.
He was the scary thing that gave grown men and ruthless demons nightmares.
But never again.
Thorn raked a sneer over Paimon’s horned, ghastly form. “Crawl home, you fetid bastard. Slither into your pit and stay there until you find some semblance of decency.”
Paimon laughed in his face. “You’ve been corrupted by humanity. How can you put faith in something so pathetic and weak?”
He smirked. “We live by faith. Not by sight or proof.”
“How can you have faith after the way they’ve turned on you and done you?”
Shrugging, Thorn answered with the simple truth. “The testing of faith produces perseverance, and faith without action is worthless.”
Paimon shrieked in his face. “And so are you!”
* * *
“I’m not so sure about this spell of yours, Du.” Mara’s eyes widened as she saw the size of the raven he’d convinced to lift them up and carry them. “When you said we’d fly, I thought you meant without additional aid.”
He smiled at her. “Nay, my precious blodwen. But fret never. It’s not what you’re thinking. We couldn’t be in better talons. Trust me.”
Famous last words, that. She wasn’t sure if anyone could control something this large. And he refused to tell her exactly how he’d conjured this giant beast of a bird.
Even Belle appeared skeptical as they all gathered on deck to stare up at the fowl above them. With massive talons, it gripped the railings and lifted them through a sky as dark as the bird itself. Her heart pounding in fear, she clutched at the rope nearest her and gulped.
The wind from its wings whipped against them. Cool and pleasant over the heat, yet disturbing in that it was so unnatural.
William glanced over to Bart. “Thinking of feeding Roach to this beast as well?”
“How’d you guess it?”
“The expression on your face. You’re quite transparent.”
Roach passed a less than amused glare at the pair of them that forced Mara to press her lips together to keep from laughing. But she deeply appreciated their humor, given the severity of this, and her trepidation over it.
Only Duel seemed at ease. Damn him for that confidence. But then nothing ever seemed to rattle the beast.
Her heart in her throat, she tightened her grip. As if sensing her unease, Du moved to stand behind her. “It’ll be fine. I trust our raven.”
Problem was, she didn’t. How could she? She knew nothing of the creature or where it came from.
Worried, she turned toward Duel and the comfort he offered. Honestly, what she wanted most was to walk into his arms and have him hold her again. To bury her face against his chest and let the scent of his skin soothe her until it drove away the last bit of her fear and turmoil.
And still a part of her was scared to be so close to him, for he was every bit as dangerous to both her sanity and reason.
He met her gaze and frowned. “What?” The word was more a bark than a question, and that, right there, was part of her fear about this. He was ever unpredictable.
Swallowing, she glanced up at the bird, then down to the man who controlled it. “Have you ever been afraid?”
He reached to touch her hair, and hesitated as if he realized suddenly what he was doing and how many stood near enough to see. “Aye. Many times.”
She couldn’t imagine it. Not Duel. He was always so confident and in charge of himself. She’d never really seen true fear from him. Not like what other men showed. “Name me one time.”
“Every time I reach for you,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m terrified you’ll rebuff me.”
She started to scoff at his answer, until she caught the sincerity in those dark eyes. “How could you ever fear me?”
“I don’t fear you, Mara. I fear the power you hold that reduces me to your mindless servant.”
“You flatter me.”
“I only speak the truth. Had you ever once looked at me, you would have seen it plainly. Vine knew it, and it’s why I never held her full loyalty or her heart.” And with that, he stepped away to check on the others.
Tears welled in her eyes as she choked on the pain in her throat that his own anguished words had wrought. She wanted to call it a lie. To say he was playing her falsely and trying to weaken her.
She couldn’t.
Because in the back of her mind, she saw him as he’d been. The times their gazes had met over the years when they’d lived in Tintagel and he’d sobered as if someone had punched him. More than that, she remembered the way he’d rush to her side if she ever felt ill or needed something. Even leaving her sister during such instances.
Aye, it had infuriated Vine whenever he did such. Many times, she’d gone into a fetid rage at them both. Du had ignored her tirades and Mara had dismissed them as part of her sister’s unreasonable jealousy. It was ever part of Vine’s personality that she could become incensed over the smallest of things. So she’d thought nothing of it then.
But now …
Mara remembered the first time she’d appeared in Duel’s court after he’d brought her home with him.…
“She’s a Deruvian whore! I say we should get some entertainment from the wench for the trouble they’ve put us through! Let us all have a turn at the bitch! We’ve earned it for the blood we’ve lost.”
Duel had ruthlessly gutted the soldier faster than she could blink. Faster than anyone, even said gutted man, could anticipate. Indeed, he’d been in the midst of his next sentence when Duel had struck without warning.
His sword coated with the man’s blood while the poor man had gasped his last breath, Duel had glared at the gathered nobles and warriors inside his dark, somber hall. “Anyone else takes issue with the lady, they take issue with me. You will respect her and speak to her as if she were one of our own. And a queen, no less. Never let me catch anyone near her, for any reason, or else I’ll make you wish your own mother had gutted you the moment she made the mistake of whelping you.”
Mara had assumed those growled words were motivated by the fact she’d bound their lives together and he feared them killing her out of ignorance and spite, and ending his life in the process.
Now …
She winced as she realized how stupid she’d been. How unkind and selfish. But how could she have known he felt anything more than hatred for her, given what she’d done?
I’m such a fool.
Belle came up and touched her shoulder. “Let the past go, mum. ’Tis a fleeting shadow that can never be captured.”
“I’m so mad at myself, Lady Belle.”
“I feel that pain that lives in your heart, Mara. Think you there’s not a one here who isn’t a refugee from that monster called Past? On the surface, it appears we bartered our souls for another chance at freedom, but the truth is we’re all hoping to find something we can hold on to that will kill that beast inside us. Something to quell our guilt and conscience. That is what we’re hoping to salvage. Not our souls. Just our sanity.”
She squeezed Belle’s hand. “You’re a good friend. Much better than I deserve.”
“Nay. You never want to know what caused me to be damned, mum. Suffice it to say, I’m grateful the captain approved me pardon when Thorn offered him my service. Not many what would, given my crimes.” She glanced around to the others. “He sees more than you credit him with.”
“How do you mean?”
“Think about it. Thorn gave him the ability to veto any member of this crew for any reason, no questions asked. Makes you wonder what Captain Bane saw in this sorry lot that he thought us worth redeeming, doesn’t it?” She jerked her chin toward the wheel. “And Sancha, you know why she drinks?”
Mara shook her head.
“She left her daughter alone with the man what fathered her, but he didn’t want to be a father. Truth was, back then Sancha didn’t want to be a mother, either. Not until she got home from carousing with friends only to find her daughter dead by the unfeeling hand of the blackguard she’d entrusted with her care. Too late, she realized how much she did love her girl, and that she didn’t really mind the responsibility of motherhood, after all.”
Her eyes filling with tears, Mara gasped at the horror poor Sancha must have faced that night. No wonder she was so harsh now. “What did she do?”