by Leah Ross
Tate pushed Declan off forcefully and spun with a slash that would have brought an abrupt end to their clandestine conversation had Declan not anticipated the move and ducked. “Have it your way. I can spar with you while we talk.”
“‘Tis a damn sight more lethal now than when we used to fence at school, eh, Roderick?” Declan said with a raised brow.
Tate’s lip quirked in an ironic smile of agreement, but he sobered quickly. “Listen, Declan. McCabe has no idea what he’s brought aboard your ship.”
Declan aimed a vicious thrust at Tate’s abdomen, which Tate barely sidestepped. “I trust Guinn’s judgment, but I’m willin’ to hear ye out. Care to enlighten me?”
Slashing down at Declan’s blade to further draw the man’s weight off center, Tate locked their blades with Declan twisted awkwardly, forcing Declan to glare up at him over his shoulder. “Truthfully, I’d prefer if the cursed chest found its way overboard and down to the bottom of the ocean instead of in the possession of any Annali. It brought nothing but ill fate to us, and I’m quite loath to have it anywhere near the Lightning.”
“This is no’ new information, Tate,” Declan snapped, his breath rasping with the exertion of holding his stance. With a savage growl and a supreme show of strength, he threw his weight behind a wide arcing windmill of his arms, both hands gripping the hilt of his sword. Tate was thrown backward, only barely able to keep his footing.
“Shit, Maclairish!” Tate exclaimed. “I’ve never seen you do that before.”
“Yer time is ‘bout up, Tate, an’ so is my patience,” Declan growled, sensing Ashur’s influence trying to take over.
“You want new information?” Tate seethed, brandishing his sword in a mirror of Declan’s posture. “Then consider this. Even if you’ve found yourselves miraculously immune to that thing’s curse so far, the longer it remains in McCabe’s possession, the more it will influence his mind. Just look at Archer. He’s nearly drooling in his ravenous obsession over it, and it’s not even on his ship. It’s nothing but evil and chaos made to look harmless.”
An icy grin spread across Declan’s face as he chuckled. “Sounds like something I’d be very interested in.”
Tate frowned at the change in Declan’s mood and voice. “You all right, Maclairish?”
“Thank ye for the warnin’, Tate.” Declan’s voice returned to its familiar lilt, but it retained the chilling tone. “I truly dinna wish to kill ye.”
Sensing the dangerous shift in the air, Tate took a hasty step backward, keeping his sword raised between them. Faster than Tate could track, Declan was behind him with his elbow wrapped around his throat and the solid hilt of Declan’s sword grinding painfully against his skull.
“I dinna wish to kill ye, Roderick,” Declan murmured against Tate’s ear. Tate’s blood ran cold, hearing the malicious grin that he couldn’t see. “But I didna say I wouldna do it.” With a swift and violent twist, Declan snapped Tate’s neck and dropped the instantly lifeless body in a crumpled mass at his feet.
Laughter bubbled and writhed its way up from his stomach, erupting from his throat in a maniacal cackle that shocked and terrified all within earshot. Crewmate and enemy alike regarded him with horrified eyes. Bending to the dead form in front of him, he ripped Tate’s sword from the hand that no longer had any use of it and crooked his finger in invitation to anyone who dared take him on. Continuing to laugh, Declan cut a bloody swath through the crush of men around him, the twin blades flashing in a blurred vortex of indiscriminate slaughter, mowing down all unfortunate enough to get in the way.
The crowd instinctively pulled away from the massacre. Morgan took advantage of his opponent’s momentary loss of focus to escape and see what all the commotion was about. A quick glance in Declan’s direction had him gasping and sprinting for the bridge. “Miss Laria!”
She nodded curtly. “I know! I’m working on it!” She refocused her energy to protecting the crew of the Grimoire, unable to spare anything for the hapless men of the Lightning.
Archer gaped, dumbfounded, as he watched his men go down second by second. All anyone could do was watch the annihilation. Declan seemed impervious to any injury—though many tried to stop him—and actually looked to be enjoying his murderous rage.
Guinn stepped away from Laria, shocked by the bloodbath down on deck. “What the—?”
Archer seized his opportunity. “Kill the mage!” he screamed.
The man closest to Laria lunged at her savagely. With a scream, she tripped and landed in the corner against the rail, helpless against the attack. Her concentration lost, the crew of the Grimoire found themselves unprotected once again.
Fortunately for them, Declan dredged up enough cognizance of himself to realize Laria’s precarious position and turned his attention to the man poised over her, ready to strike her down. With an unearthly howl of fury, Declan hurled Tate’s sword at Laria’s assassin. It sailed, end over end, across the deck and lodged with a revolting wet thunk into the man’s chest. The force of the blow sent him clear over the rail and into sea.
Oblivious to the shock rendering most everyone speechless, Declan finished his march of death across the deck, killing every man from the Lightning. Archer screamed epithets at him in a streaming tirade of impotent fury. Finally, with no more invaders left to dispatch, Declan sent a heartless glare across to Archer, his lips lifting in a truly evil smirk. Gathering all of his magical energy into a crackling mass of blinding light, he blasted it at the Lightning. “DALO AD HORR!”
Laria’s horrified gasp caught in her throat. For an eternal moment, no one could do anything but watch as the opposing ship was instantly engulfed in searing flame from her devil seam all the way to the tops. The agonized screams of Archer and the rest of his men still aboard echoed in a gruesome chorus over the water; there was not even a chance for them to escape. As the unbearable heat of the inferno reached out toward the Grimoire, Guinn and his crew finally shook off their stupor and raced into action to avoid getting caught in the blaze.
“All hands!” Guinn shouted. “Get us the bloody hell out of here! Lose the anchor! Set the damn sails! We’ve got to cut and run!”
The men scurried to their stations to get the ship away from the firestorm that used to be Tyrian’s Lightning. With a warning to clear the area to avoid the deadly recoil of its taut line, Ballard cut the anchor free, making the ship jolt suddenly. The sail lashings were similarly sacrificed, and the canvases set loose. The sails caught the wind with loud snaps, and the ship jolted again, nearly jumping across the water in her haste to escape.
When Guinn felt a comfortable enough distance away from the carnage they’d left behind, he rushed to Laria. “Are you all right?” He felt her limbs and inspected her quickly, searching for injury.
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
He gathered her tight into the shelter of his arms, caressing her hair and planting tiny kisses on her temple and cheek. “Gods, Laria,” he breathed, his voice hoarse with strain and desperation, “I very nearly lost you today.” He squeezed her against his body. “No more. Never again. I love you too much. Nothing is worth losing you.”
As Declan’s gaze lifted to the bridge and found the couple wrapped in their close embrace, his rage consumed him. Ashur cackled with glee and incited it shamelessly. He nearly got her killed, and yet she forgives him! He caused this destruction, this needless waste of life! His ego and arrogance are boundless and will result in nothing but death for you all! There’s only one way to stop the spread of this evil.
“Kill him.”
Chapter Nineteen
Declan stood motionless amidst the fallen bodies on the deck, his sword at his side dripping Annali blood, his clothes soaked in it. He breathed shallowly and rapidly, unable to take the deep breaths he needed or slow his thundering heart. Wrath and hatred rose within him, his vision hazing red as it locked onto Guinn. There would be no stopping it this time. He’d finally been pushed over the edge of the abyss. With the la
st shreds of conscious thought slipping through his grasp, he dropped his sword and tossed away his dagger. It wasn’t enough, though; Declan knew he could kill a man with his bare hands, especially with the added strength from Ashur. Please, he begged the entity, who now had full control, please dinna kill him.
A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and Ashur responded, “Try and stop me.”
He sprinted for the bridge, taking the stairs two at a time. Laria saw him coming and gasped just in time for Guinn to push her out of the way and turn to face the danger. With no idea what was happening, Guinn’s fury warred with his concern for Declan, and the confusion slowed his response. Declan slammed his fist into Guinn’s jaw, dropping the captain to the deck.
A weaker man than Guinn would have fallen unconscious from the blow. As it was, he wondered at the fact that his jaw wasn’t shattered. His eyes blazed up at his quartermaster. Then, snarling with fury, he tackled Declan around the abdomen and hurled him hard against the wall.
Declan swung at every part of Guinn he could reach, while Guinn pummeled his stomach and ribs. Laria huddled in the corner out of the way, unable to help, unsure who was in control, wincing at the sickening crunch of bone. Likewise, the men stayed clear. Everyone had witnessed Declan’s bloody rampage, and, uncertain of the situation, wisely decided to give him a wide berth.
Morgan raced up to the bridge to Laria’s side. “We have to do something! They’ll kill each other!” When no one moved, he growled with exasperation and made to jump in the middle, hoping the men would be cognizant enough to not want to hurt a child.
Suddenly, Guinn landed a blow to Declan’s temple and the man sprawled on his back. Guinn’s sword was drawn and jabbing mercilessly into Declan’s throat.
The corner of Declan’s lips curled in a smile. “I’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill her and that bastard she’s carrying. And the meddling whelp. I’ll kill every damn soul on this ship and then burn it all to ash, just like I did to the Lightning!”
“All I have to do is press down,” Guinn threatened.
“Do it.” Declan laughed. “Kill this pathetic body. Then I can finally be free of it and find a more suitable host.”
“Guinn, no!” Laria cried. “You can’t kill Declan! That’s exactly what it wants!”
Confusion furrowed Guinn’s brow, but he didn’t move. “Lock him in the brig.” He watched as Declan was dragged below, then he turned to Laria. “What the fucking hell is going on here? When did Declan become a godsdamn one-man apocalypse?!”
Morgan helped Laria up, questioning her with his eyes. She nodded at him. It was time. She looked at Guinn. “There’s something wrong with Declan.”
He scoffed. “Damn right, there’s something wrong with him! The blighter attacked me without provocation!”
“Guinn, forget your pride for a moment. We have a real problem here.” She sighed heavily. “Declan has been possessed by an evil entity for most of his life, a being called a daeva. He learned how to control it, but he can’t anymore, and now it’s in control. We’re not dealing with Declan right now but the parasite within him.”
“What?!”
“I would love to discuss it at length with you, but we don’t have time for that right now. Declan needs our help. Jonathan and I have been working out a way to rid Declan of the entity without risk to anyone else. It’s not perfect, but unfortunately, we’re out of time.”
Guinn narrowed his eyes. “Why wasn’t I told about this? Why is it that I’m finding out after the problem has gotten out of hand? No one thought to tell me, the bloody captain, of the grievous liability aboard his own fucking ship?!” He slammed his fist against wall.
She glared back at him. “I wanted this done right, so I had to do it myself.” His dark eyes flashed rage at her, but she lifted her chin in defiance. “Scream at me later, if you must, Guinn. Jonathan and I need to get everything ready.”
“I won’t let you endanger yourself and our child,” he refused stubbornly.
She pushed her way past him. “That’s not your call to make.”
~*~
Morgan’s heart thudded so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear what Laria was saying. Even though he’d been working with her to learn the spells she needed him to perform, he still wasn’t confident that his magic was powerful enough. He desperately wanted to help Declan, though, so he swallowed his fear and focused on Laria.
“I only need you to worry about the few spells that we’ve been working on, Jonathan. Please don’t try to be a hero and do anything foolish.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Remember, he may look like Declan, but he’s not the man we know right now. This thing will do anything and everything to manipulate us, so be prepared for that. It will say terrible things to throw us off our guard; try not to react and definitely don’t take it to heart.” She knelt in front of him and took his hands. “Your most important job is to stay hidden until I draw the spirit out. Protect that box, for it’s the only thing that can contain such darkness.” She cupped his cheek. “You look frightened.”
“I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know what to expect.”
“Neither do I, but I’m confident in our plan.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
“We’ll try our best not to. Are you ready, Jonathan?”
He nodded. “I’m ready.”
~*~
Laria informed Guinn that they were heading down to the brig and warned him to stay as far away as possible. She needed all the energy she could muster, and couldn’t afford to waste any on worrying about him. Guinn agreed, but insisted that two men be stationed at the stairs in case she needed help. She nodded, gave him a quick kiss, and then led Morgan and their appointed guards down below.
Morgan’s stomach fluttered as they approached the locked door to the brig. Laria checked to make sure the guards remained at the stairs, and then nodded to him. Clutching the box that he’d helped Laria acquire only a week prior tight to his belly, he uttered his first spell. “D-davdour.” He knew right away that his delivery hadn’t been strong enough. He watched as his hands flickered feebly and he solidified once more.
Laria smiled. “Try again. I know you can do this. Take a deep breath and commit to it.”
He breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and tried again, drawing on his inner strength, as he’d learned from the book he’d gotten from Cass in Terracova. “Davdour!”
“Very good,” she said. “Stay close until we’re inside, but mind my feet. It’s important that he doesn’t know you’re there.”
Raising her chin, she unlocked the door and entered. Declan lounged against the wall of his cell, regarding her nonchalantly as she stopped in the open space beyond the bars out of his reach. “Well, well, well… I expected Guinn to show up for my flogging, but this is better. I quite enjoy rough handling from my females. Can we call it foreplay?” She frowned at him. He tilted his head with interest. “Why do you look at me like that?”
“You look like Declan, but you sound nothing like him, Ashur.”
He smiled. “That’s because I am nothing like him.”
“I find the paradox… unsettling.”
He wrinkled his nose with disgust. “It’s not bad enough I have to look like this sniveling coward, you want me to sound like him too? Shit, woman, but you’re hard to please!”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“I don’t want you mocking him.”
“Whatever. I’m almost free of this prison anyway.”
“You sound very sure about that.”
He shrugged. “Guinn won’t let me harm you. To get to me, he has to go through Declan. As long as I continue to threaten you, it’s only a matter of time before Guinn solves the problem with the point of his blade.”
“And then what? What happens once you’re free?”
“I find someone better.”
“Better? Declan has a better soul than you’ll ever have
!”
He laughed. “You’re very right about that! You see, I have no soul, so I have to feed from others’.”
“Why Declan? Why did you choose him? He doesn’t deserve this.”
“I didn’t choose him,” he snapped. “He found me. I never would have chosen someone so weak.”
“He’s not weak!”
“He is in the ways that matter to me. Though, I do have to commend him for the less ethical aspects of his nature that have fed me so well for so many years. You should really hear the story of his childhood sometime.” He smirked. “It’s fucking fascinating. Just ask dear William.” He stood and approached the bars, looking down at his body. “This host has not been entirely without its benefits, though. It’s young, strong… experienced. Declan’s charm and good looks have gotten me laid plenty of times… if you’ll recall.” She glared at him, but didn’t rise to the bait. “That’s all him, by the way. I don’t bother with charm; it’s been done to death. What this body lacks is the power I crave.”
“Declan doesn’t have enough power for you?”
He shook his head. Then he smiled at her. “But you… Ah, yes. You and that brat inside you simply ooze power. I can taste it in the air all around you. It tastes a little like ripe tropical fruit and a lot like your pleasure on my tongue. You remember that, don’t you? Of course you do. I sure as hell do.” He sighed deeply with a smug grin. “Mmm… delicious. You and I could wreak such beautiful havoc together.”
“You can’t have me,” she vowed.
“Silly female,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “haven’t you been listening? Wussy-pants Declan and I have already had you. You should have known that once wouldn’t be enough. Declan tasted your body, connected with your soul, and craved your love, or some such useless drivel. What an imbecile! But I tasted your power, and now I hunger for it.”
Laria took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was well aware that Morgan was in the room with her, and she couldn’t help what he’d heard. She could only hope he didn’t understand much of it. She knew this was the turning point. This was her chance.