He harbored every bit of the ferocity, venom, and bloodlust of Qeenan. The only difference? Unlike his brother, he didn’t whine about life’s inequities. Nor did he flaunt his skills, which was what made him the deadlier of the two of them.
No one saw him coming.
Qeenan was brute force, and he was Le Beau Mort. Elegant in every way.
Unless it involved Valynda.
Aye … things were about to get bloody and people were about to get dead.
Jaden didn’t move as he watched Nibo leave. In fact, he didn’t breathe until he heard someone clapping sarcastically over the din of mundane conversations. Irritated, he turned to see the last person he’d expected to find in this dismal, dank place that catered to human sailors and their wanton slags.
Tiny and petite, she watched him from shadows that were as dark and mysterious as the lady herself.
And as treacherous.
It was something the two of them shared. Ever shifting in loyalty. One never knew where they stood with them.
Not even their own children.
Some days, not even he knew where he’d put his chips.
Which was good, as it kept everyone on their toes.
“What are you doing here, Cam?”
With skin that was a pure cocoa and eyes that were a startling and unexpected shade of green in contrast, she approached him slowly and with the grace of a mythic queen. She wore bright orange, rust, and yellow skirts that were hemmed in bells that jingled lightly with her fluid movements. Her long Senegalese twists fell to her waist and were held back from her face in a sophisticated chignon. Beauty incarnate, she was tiny to such a degree that most would discount her. But Jaden was well aware of his sister’s power.
And her lethality.
In that, they were like-minded creatures.
While she considered herself a force for good, she was as quick to kill and harm as any of those who pledged their hearts and swords to his evil overlords.
“I go by the name Menyara these days, brother, and your powers of subtle manipulation never cease to amaze me. No wonder Kadar and Azura were so hell-bent to get you enslaved to them.”
He scoffed at her words and tried to ignore the barb that stung deep, as he would never grow used to being enslaved to their siblings, no matter how many centuries passed. Like Cam, he was technically a god of protective powers who hated what he was forced to do in order to survive. “That wasn’t subtle. Trust me. That was the most heavy-handed abuse of my powers ever.”
“Perhaps. But impressive nonetheless.”
He would argue, except that he didn’t like to waste time. And no one ever won an argument against Cam. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“I’m here for the same reason you are.”
To stop the Malachai from rising to the height of his full power that would enable him to destroy the world, and to keep their brother and sister imprisoned.
Good goal that, given that it was the least they could do for everyone’s sanity and sakes.
Jaden glanced around the crowded Caribbean tavern that was filled with humans who were oblivious to the fact that they were on the verge of total annihilation. One step shy of oblivion. While Port Royal was about as filthy a hole as any he’d ever seen, he still had a peculiar affinity for humanity. Why? He had no idea. They’d never been particularly kind to him. Had been even less so to his children.
And the human vermin were rank bastards to each other. Surely such a repugnant species should be beyond any form of redemption, and yet …
He, like his sister, was counted among the Kalosum—the powers of light or so-called good. At least until he’d made the fatal mistake of enslaving himself to his brother and sister in a sad effort to spare the life of his own grandchild.
And for what?
In the end, evil always seemed to get the upper hand and slap them in the face.
Then give them a staunch middle finger.
