Her sister had offered her much for a bit of Duel’s flesh.
Nay, for his heart.
Her bargain with Vine had seemed a simple one. But now …
She rubbed her hand over her necklace and the warmth that came from having her harthfret again.
You hate him. You know you do.
Yet if that were true, why was she having to attempt to convince herself of it?
* * *
Devyl tried to ignore the pair of eyes he could feel on him. If only that was the part of her he wanted touching his flesh.
Damn it.
He had no one to blame for Mara’s hatred and resentment of him but himself. Nor could he blame her for it. It was better than he deserved, all things considered.
Still, he couldn’t keep his rampant thoughts steady to the course. The sooner he removed her from this crew, the safer they’d all be.
“Captain?”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Bart eyeing him. “What can I do for you, Mr. Meers?”
“Sallie’s soul has gone missing again.”
With an irritated grimace, he turned to face Bart. “Am I captain or the nursemaid of small children?”
“Apparently, you’d be both.” He flashed a sarcastic smile at Devyl.
Growling at the aggravation, he handed his spyglass to Bart. “Batten down, Mr. Meers. There’s a storm headed in. Secure the deck and sails. It’ll be a heavy squall.”
Bart looked up at the sky. “You sure? It’s as clear as it can be.”
“Won’t be within the hour. Trust me.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
As Devyl neared his cabin before he dealt with Sallie’s soul, he felt Thorn’s presence there. Or at least the remnants of it. Curious about the visit, he stepped inside to find a map pinned to his desk with four very specific kinds of daggers. The kind that would have angered him had a fifth one not held a note pinned to a set of islands north of San Juan.
Your ex-bitch and her pack of demons can be found here. Guard your back, my brother. They will be gunning for you.
The Sarim send their best to you. Claim they’ll come should you call. Wouldn’t bet on that, but you can always try.
You know where I am.
TTUYA
Devyl actually laughed at the signature, which stood for “The Thorn Up Your Arse.” He’d give the demon credit. Thorn was even more antagonistic than he was.
He strangely liked that in a person. Liked it even more in a demon.
Prying the dagger loose, he glanced over the map. Then cursed and rolled his eyes as he saw where they’d be heading.
Meropis. He should have guessed that on his own. What better place to put a gate to a hell dimension?
Perfect. Just futtocking perfect.
