Michael let out an annoyed sigh. “I so miss these conversations with you. Like having my head drilled and skull pried open.” Wrinkling his brow, he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose as if their exchange was giving him the same migraine currently thumping through Thorn’s head. “One last thing. The gate? It’s located in the Quella.”
Thorn winced at the mention of the chain of notorious islands. They should have known. “Of course it is. And which fun island holds the honor? Oh wait, let me guess. It wouldn’t be the one inhabited by pissed-off dragons. They’d only eat us, and there’s no fun in a quick death. Or the island of demons, because that would be too routine, and half of Bane’s crew would be delighted since they, including Bane himself, would consider it a buffet they could gorge on. Nor the land of the seven giants … because, again, death would be too quick and painless for them. Nay. This fun-filled adventure could only be found on Meropis. Am I warm?”
“Your deductive reasoning impresses me.”
Thorn scoffed. “How ’bout I do you one better, then? Out of all the places they could have planted that gate, they put it squarely on that one island—bet I can actually peg the correct lost and abandoned city where it’s housed … Anostos.” So named because it literally meant No Return.
“Again, you astound me.” His voice matched Thorn’s level of sarcasm.
“I hate you so much, Michael.”
The Seraph leaned forward to playfully slap at his cheeks. “Back at you, demon.” And with that, he vanished.
Thorn didn’t move as he considered this strange turnaround. It wasn’t like the Sarim to reconsider anything they did. And especially never their attitudes on a matter.
Or a person.
The Sarim were forever right in all things.
Everyone else was wrong. Always.
But in this, they’d reversed course and come around to his line of defense. More than that, they agreed with him and were willing to aid his cause.
That … that actually scared the flaming shit out of him.
The world really was coming to an end. He just hoped he’d chosen the right side to be on.
Maybe I ought to rethink a visit to good old Dad.…
12
Mara stretched as she resumed a human form. They were far out to sea now. Santiago still trailed after them, but, at Du’s insistence, at a safe distance.
She pulled up short at the sight of food someone had left for her in her room.
Nay, not someone. Only Du ever did that. She’d never been quite certain how he knew when she’d be resuming her human skin, yet he always did.
Because he’s Deruvian, too.
He must be able to sense her moods the same way she sensed them in others of her kind. And yet, she’d never once had an inkling that he was one of them.
Of course, she hadn’t looked for it either.
Still …
She scowled as her gaze dropped to a small box he’d left next to the tray of food. It was set upon a folded note. Scoffing at whatever he had to say, she opened the box, then sat down promptly in her chair as her legs gave way from the shock of what it contained.
Her missing harthfret that he’d taken so long ago.
With a gasp, she reached to finger the small gem and recalled the day Du had taken it from her.
“Where is it, you bastard!” she’d demanded as she rushed into his bedchambers to begin searching through his chests and belongings for it.
He’d arched that black brow in the same arrogant expression that always made her want to claw out his eyes. Dressed all in black, he’d been freshly bathed and groomed for once. Not that it mattered.
A clean beast was still a beast.
“Don’t you knock?” he’d challenged before he shut the door behind her.
