Curling her lip, Belle laughed bitterly. “And would you believe that slag bitchling had the audacity to come into my room”—she slapped herself on her chest to emphasize those words—“every day and ask me how ma petite fille was feeling? How Shara was doing! Knowing that bitchtress was killing her and that the sole reason my baby suffered? That both me and me daughter were dying from what she was serving us! And all the while me husband would come to check on us and say nothing! Just come and look at us with a stoic expression on his vile face.”
Sick to her stomach, Valynda couldn’t wrap her mind around the harsh cruelty of what Belle described. This was madness on a true sadistic level. Nay, she couldn’t imagine a greater betrayal than to know the man she thought she loved was standing there, watching her die. No wonder Belle was barely sane most days. It all made sense now. All the woman’s weird idiosyncrasies.
Why she couldn’t trust anyone. Who could blame her?
How could anyone be so cold to his own family? His own child?
And for what?
Money? Ego? What in the world could get into anyone’s head to make them turn against their family for a stranger and to cause them harm? It just didn’t make sense. Why throw so much away?
Another tear fell quietly down Belle’s cheek. “To this day, I can still feel the last wisp of her breath on me skin as it left Shara’s frail body and she went limp in me arms.” Belle broke off into wrenching sobs.
Pulling her against her chest, Valynda wished she could join her tears as she felt Belle’s pain deep in her heart and soul. Dear God, no one should bear witness to such a thing. She could imagine no greater horror than holding her daughter as she died. To be betrayed so badly by the man she loved.
It made what Nibo had done to her pale in comparison, because the truth was, she’d rather die a thousand times than see her own child perish before her.
That had to be the cruelest blow life had to give to anyone. Pressing her hand to her stomach, Belle gave her an agonized stare that pierced her like a hot needle. She pulled away from Valynda to wipe at her eyes. “You cannot imagine the scream I let out when Shara left this mortal coil. And the rage that came upon me then. With it was born me clairvoyance and cunning. In that one fatal moment of losing ma belle Shara, I heard her whispering to me what had been done to her and by whom. The why of it all—that the slag had come in and wanted what I had for her own and wanted us gone and me Robbie was too stupid to see it for what it was. Then I saw the brightest light shine down upon us. It damn near blinded me. So, I lay ma fille’s body back on her bed, and seized me herb knife, then went to find the ones what had harmed ma petite fille de cœur.”
Her breathing turned ragged as if she were reliving that moment. As if the rage had come back just as fresh now as it’d been the day her daughter had died. “As calm and cool as you please, I found them in the crowded tavern we owned. And the minute I saw that whore slag there, me mind took on the visions of her drugging ma petite fille and me, of her actually humming, singing, and smiling as she tainted our food and drink, and of her laughing while she fed her concoctions to us that had killed me daughter. To actually think in her twisted, sick mind that she deserved what I’d worked so hard for! Next thing I knew, I was on them, stabbing and slashing with everything I had and more.”
Belle looked up as tears streamed down her beautiful face, leaving streaks behind to mark the pain that was seared into her soul, and now Valynda’s in indignation for her. “When all was said and done, I’d ripped them to shreds and cut the throats of two innocent watchmen who’d tried to stop me from gutting them.” She met Valynda’s gaze without flinching. “Sadly, I wasn’t sorry then and I’m not sorry now. Not one little bit. My only regret was not protecting me girl from that bitchling who preyed on her and turned me husband from the loving father he’d been into the beast I no longer recognized. I only wish I’d caught on to them sooner so that I could have saved ma petite fille’s life.”
“So, you were hanged?”
“Eventually.”
Valynda cocked her head. “Pardon?”
Belle’s laughter was cold and sinister. “Oh, I ran for it, I did. Like the devil and all his servants. As I said, I wasn’t a bit sorry for what I took from the trollop or the rank bastard betrayer. I grabbed a sword, hit the door, and lived for a couple of years on me root work before the law caught up to me.”
Sniffing, she wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “I told you, Lady Doll, I earned my damnation. Every what day of it. While I’m not proud of what I did to them and I am sorry for the deaths of the watchmen, I don’t deny it. I was about as worthless a person as whatever was born, and I shouldn’t have taken the innocent lives that I did. But to get the guilty and to make them pay, I’d do it all again, without hesitation. To pay that debt, it was worth it.” She shrugged. “I still don’t know why Thorn and the captain agreed to bring me back to serve on this crew and give me a shot to win back me blackened soul. I’m just glad they did, for there’s nothing more I want than to see me girl again. To hold her wee little hand one more time and tell her that I’m sorry I failed to keep her safe. Even from her own father.”
Her eyes still shining from her tears, Belle turned to leave.
Valynda caught her hand as she started away, and pulled her back to her side. “I know why they chose you, Belle. You’ve a good heart. The best I’ve seen. Don’t ever let anyone else tell you differently. Not even you.”
Smiling, Belle kissed her cheek. “And Nibo loves you, miss. Never doubt that. I don’t know the how of what brought you into your death, but I know the mountains he moved to bring you back from the other side and to get you on this ship. That was no easy feat, there.”
“How do you mean?”
Belle arched her brow. “Don’t you know?”
“Thorn and the captain bargained.” That was how everyone had been chosen for the crew.
Belle shook her head. “Valynda, they didn’t choose you. Didn’t you ever wonder why you’re the only one on board who wasn’t a trained fighter or brawler?”
“Sancha—”
“Was given fencing and shooting lessons every day of her life. A lady she might have been, but she was more than able to stand on her own.”
Valynda hadn’t known that. She’d assumed that as a noble lady Sancha would have had others do everything for her. Janice, she knew, had been trained by the Dark-Hunter leader Acheron to become the fierce fighter she was. Belle had grown up with her father, who’d been a trader and hunter, so she knew that Belle was well versed on how to protect herself. And as an orphan on her own, Cameron Jack had been forced to live and pass herself off as a man for most of her life while her brother was off at sea so that she wouldn’t fall prey to others while he was away. So, Cameron knew well how to fight and scrap.
Mara’s ancient race had been at war with the captain’s and she’d been well versed in warfare, and the captain had trained his sister himself on how to fight.
But Valynda hadn’t known how to hold a sword or even load a flintlock.
Her mind reeled at something she hadn’t thought about before. Scowling, she thought back to the day when she’d awakened in her straw body to find Belle and the captain standing over her, with Thorn, their unofficial boss who’d assembled their crew and charged Captain Bane with the task of driving the escaping demons back through the fractured Carian Gate.
Disoriented and confused, she’d been too grateful to be away from her hell realm of torture to ask too many questions, for fear of it angering them and having them cast her back to that nightmare hole.
Once that had passed, she’d assumed that her story had been similar to everyone else’s. That Bane had gone through her dimension with Thorn and seen something promising in her that he thought would benefit their crew.
But if what Belle was saying was true …
Valynda left her immediately and headed to the captain’s cabin. She had to have an answer for this.
Why was she
on board this ship?
She had to know what had happened when they brought her back. There were so many questions and so few answers.
Suddenly, she felt lied to by everyone. Thorn. The captain. Adarian.
Most of all, Xuri.
No longer did she know who or what she could trust. And that was the worst feeling of all. To be betrayed by those closest to her. To lose all moorings and be cast adrift with no direction in the world. She hadn’t felt this way since her parents had found out about Nibo, and they’d lost their ever-loving minds over it.
Valynda froze as those nightmares tore through her with fresh talons and left her ravaged anew.
“You’ve taken up with a native boy?” She could still hear that strident, deafening tone.
She’d just come home to find her parents clustered in the front of their tiny three-room cottage. A place so small, she had to leave it in order to have room enough to change her mind.
The instant the door had closed, she’d seen the stern look upon her father’s face, the taut grimace on her mother’s plump brow, and had known she was in trouble.
Serious trouble.
“What is it?”
“Tell us it’s not true.” Her father had stood by the hearth with a sneer while her mother sat near the window in a chair, wringing her hands and feigning a fainting spell.
“Fine. It’s not true. I have no idea of what matter we’re speaking, but if it solaces your mind, I’m happy to reassure you, Father.”
He’d backhanded her then. A blow so hard it’d split her lip and sent her to the floor. “You’ve been seen cavorting with an islander in a disgusting, filthy manner. Tell me it’s not true.”
Her heart had stopped instantly as she tried to imagine who could have seen her with Nibo. They’d been so careful, meeting late at night and in remote areas where her people never ventured.
With her ears ringing from the blow, she’d wiped away the blood. Her hands had trembled as she’d rolled over to deal with them.
“Valynda?” Her mother’s voice had cracked. “Answer your father.”
Licking more blood from her lips, she’d searched her mind for something plausible to say, but it wasn’t in her nature to lie.
“My God, it’s true.” Her father had stumbled back as her mother began crying hysterically.
“It’s not what you think, Father. Xuri’s—”
“What kind of name is that?” His roar had cut off her words as he’d seized her arm and yanked her from the floor.
She couldn’t remember anything past that. His words had been too cruel and biting for her to commit them to memory. The violence too horrific.
And for no reason other than Nibo had been different from what her father deemed “acceptable.” He wasn’t what her father had wanted for her.
So, he’d shown up the next day with a man his age and demanded she marry him to take the taint away from their family name. As if her father hadn’t done them more harm by his own actions of damning them to a life of bitter, cruel poverty for his own selfish ego that craved respectability from others. Not for anything he’d achieved or done with his life. But for what he’d deprived her and her mother of having.
After all, it was her fault that others whispered and gossiped about them behind their backs and while they were in church. God forbid her father accept the blame for anything, ever. He’d always pushed that off on her mother or her. It was why Valynda hated him. Why she’d never wanted to be around her father. He liked to paint himself as a noble bastard or hapless martyr to all. Some self-sacrificing family man to be admired by the entire world and held up as an example of what everyone should strive to be. Yet that was only a sham. A lie he professed for admiration he didn’t deserve.
There was nothing benevolent in her father’s heart. Everything he did was for show, so that others would speak kindly about him, because he couldn’t stand to be criticized. It was for his own self-glorification and he didn’t care how it affected her mother or her. How it damaged their futures. So long as he got what he wanted in the here and now, that was all that mattered. Their only reason to exist was to serve him and his needs and ego. So long as she was a bragging right, he loved her. When she disappointed him, she was nothing to him. Just an object to be cast aside, mocked and ridiculed.
Herbert Moore was a disgusting dog she’d learned to hate early in life, and she resented her mother, Lizzie, for never standing up to him. But then her mother had always been a weak, selfish woman, more concerned with her own needs than anyone else’s.
So here Valynda was. Trapped between worlds.
Soulless and in the body of a doll.
Pain choked her. “I have no place in this world.” Truth was, she never had. Even when she’d been human, she’d felt that way. Unwanted. Unloved.
Unnecessary. She was so done with this cold world.
Heartbroken and disgusted, Valynda clutched her fist and drew it back, changing her mind about bothering the captain. There was no need. She didn’t want to hear his answer, lest it be something that would only hurt her more.
As everything did.
She couldn’t take another kick in her teeth. Even if they were only made of straw.
But before she could leave, the door opened.
Captain Bane drew up short as he saw her. “Miss Moore? To what do I owe the honor?”
Leave it to the Devyl Bane to be so kind and formal. Then again, he was ever a creature of contradictions. He shared that trait with Nibo.
“I … um …” Why couldn’t she ever think of something plausible to say? Really, it was frustrating.
“Aye?”
No reasonable lie manifested. Just once, couldn’t she think of something?
What do you expect? Even your brains are straw …
And before she could stop herself, the truth came tumbling out of her mouth. “Why did you pick me for the crew?”
The captain leaned against the door frame and arched one incredibly handsome brow. “Interesting way to start the conversation.” He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip.
A distracting gesture, no doubt. But sadly, as handsome as he was, he wasn’t the one who made her swoon. “I’m not stupid, Captain. I’m not like your wife. I can’t fashion a ship from me body. Nor am I like Sallie, who has his soul stored in a bottle that he can unleash to become a superhuman with incredible strength. I’m not Will or Bart, who are great sorcerers. Or Lady Belle. So why did you choose a woman with so little to offer?”
He scowled at her words. “You’re too hard on yourself, my lady.”
“And you’re avoiding my question.”
He let out a fierce, resigned sigh. “Very well, Miss Moore. The truth is, I didn’t pick you.”
Her heart sank over the fact that Belle hadn’t been lying. Not that she’d believed that. Not really. Just that the confirmation burned more than she wanted to admit. It was hard to hear a harsh truth, but she’d much rather hear that than a lie.
In that moment, standing outside his cabin, Valynda felt so unwanted. Again. It seemed ever her lot in life. She was forced on everyone, like some hapless, wandering beggar. “I see.”
“Don’t be getting that tone, Miss Moore.” He cleared his deep voice, then stepped back and glared up. “Thorn, you evil bastard, tuck it in and get here, now. I summon you forth from your infernal lair.”
A bright flash appeared just behind her left shoulder. Tall and handsome as the devil himself, Thorn was always a bit of a dandy in fashion and yet he was unmistakably masculine. Dangerously so, point of fact. She wasn’t quite sure how he managed to pull it off, and yet there was an aura about him that let everyone know he’d be more than happy to gut anyone or anything who annoyed him, and that he’d do it without wrinkling or mussing his elegantly pressed lace cuffs.
His eyes burned with an intelligence and were tainted with a bit of cruelty beneath them.
“Really, Duel. That’s the best you can do? How ’bout a nice ‘Thorn, you got a
minute? Would you mind?’ Or better yet … ‘Please’? Would that kill you?”
“Definitely stick in me craw. Probably choke me to death. So aye, I’d say it’d be fatal to even attempt such niceties with you. Therefore, I’ll stick to me ways, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind,” Thorn said, more forcefully. “Not that you’ll change. Just feel the need to continue to put my head through the wall that is your obstinate stupidity.” He smiled coldly. “So, what can I do you for?”
The captain gestured toward her. “Miss Moore wants to know why you chose her for this grand misadventure. Figured I’d let you have the honors of explaining it.”
“Oh.”
There was so much hidden by that one consonant that it sent a shiver over her. “Oh?”
“Did I say oh?” His tone was gruff and defensive.
“You did, sir, aye.” Valynda couldn’t understand why he was being so evasive. “Why?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
Rather, it seemed annoying. She gave him a droll stare.
He didn’t appear to appreciate that either. So, he pulled her away from the captain to a more secluded area of the deck, though that was a bit hard to manage, as privacy on a ship wasn’t the easiest thing to find. He glanced about to the others and waited until he was sure he’d have a moment where they wouldn’t be overheard. “Miss Moore, there are things in the world best not asked.”
How sick she was of being told that. It wasn’t as if she’d just asked her father where babies came from. He might as well have poked her in the eye and told her that she stank and that her hair was made of flea turds while he was at it. “You sound like my father.”
He snorted. “Better than sounding like mine. Believe me.”
There was no way to miss the bitterness in his tone. Which made her curious, given that it was said his father was the darkest power in existence. However, with those relations, she decided to let it go. “Please, sir … I’m trying to understand what happened with me.”
At Death's Door (Deadman's Cross Book 3) Page 11