Something niggled at the back of his brain. “Malek here might have helped you with information, but how did you know he was here? How did you know I was here?”
Marina rubbed her hands together as if savoring the answer. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now. I encountered the most fascinating character as I was assembling my new crew. The old man was staying at the tavern where we were, and he was clearly nursing a grudge. It didn’t take more than a few ales to get the truth from him and discover the source of his ire.”
Vaskel didn’t respond.
“Silas, I think his name was,” Marina said. “He told me all about the sick laird, the barely defended castle, and the charming nearby village hosting a recently arrived hellkin. A hellkin and his meddling friends who ruined his favorite tavern, if I’ve got the story right.”
Vaskel barely remembered an old man named Silas, but a lot had changed since Lira had come to Wayside and welcomed her friends. Changes for the good, if you asked most folks.
Vaskel attempted a charming smile. “You can’t win them all.”
Marina laughed. “Not my philosophy.”
Marina waved Vaskel toward her. “We should go. The banquet will keep the castle distracted for a while, especially since I’ve plied the guards with plenty of whiskey, but I want to be far away when they realize I’m gone.”
“Why?” Vaskel asked. “What have you done?”
Marina flicked her wrist in a circle. “I promised to cure the laird, but there’s no cure for decrepitude.”
Vaskel flinched at the hellkin’s casual dismissal. “You haven’t changed a bit, Marina.”
She twitched, a sneer replacing her silky smile. “Not everyone wants to change, Vaskel.”
“But everyone can,” he said, more to Malek than to her. “Like my dwarf friend says, every new tunnel forges a fresh path ahead.”
Neither Thrain nor Sass had never actually said that, but it sounded dwarfy enough.
Marina groaned. “Enough with the pointless dwarf wisdom.”
Thrain leapt from the shadows, placing himself between Marina and Vaskel. “What are you calling pointless?”
Marina’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “What happened to your undying love for me? You were offering me gifts not so long ago, little man.”
“I’m no man.” Thrain bristled, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I’m the hells-cursed dwarf here to tell you that you’re not taking my friend.”
“This is so tiresome.” Marina’s face contorted into something that was more demon than woman. “I suppose I need to show your dwarf friend what happens to those who fight a soul bind.”
She exposed her own wrist, pressing a finger to the flesh and giving Vaskel a malevolent grin. Nothing happened. Her grin faltered, and she dropped her gaze to her arm. “What? Where?” She yanked the fabric up to reveal nothing but fiery, unmarked skin. Then she shot Vaskel a look of pure venom. “How did you?—?”
“Wasn’t him,” Thrain bellowed. “Twas me.”
Marina swung to Thrain, and for a moment, Vaskel was certain the hellkin was going to lunge for him. Instead, she ground her teeth and spun on one heel. “Hells take you all.”
“One thing before you go, Marina.” Malek extended his hands, the palms fiery and vibrating.
Vaskel instinctively dove for Thrain, tackling the dwarf and covering his body with his own as a blast rattled his teeth and a blinding light illuminated the entire dungeon. Vaskel’s ears rang as dust and shards of rock rained down onto his back.
When he rolled off the dwarf and pulled Tyrian upright, Marina lay on the ground motionless, and Malek had crumpled to his knees.
“Is she dead?” Vaskel whispered, almost afraid to ask.
Malek twisted his head to lock eyes with him. “No, but her powers are gone, along with any chance for her to bind another soul.”
“Why?” Vaskel asked.
“I’m not so far gone that I didn’t see through her or know she was using me to get to you.” He swayed as he glowered at the hellkin on the ground. “I suppose I don’t like it when someone thinks they’ve outsmarted me.” He held up his pale arms that were scored with black marks. “And a part of me hoped that if I used my powers for good, maybe there was still hope for me to sever the darkness trying to devour me.”
Vaskel’s neck prickled, a warning that had nothing to do with Malek, who appeared truly depleted as he listed from side to side. It was Marina who pushed herself back onto her feet, her teeth bared.
