Demon from the Dark (Immortals After Dark #10)(57)

Though she didn’t understand Ronath—yet—she knew that whatever he was saying was the wrong thing.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so infuriated. Word to the wise, Ronath. Never piss off a hungover witch.

Or she’ll have your head for it.





25




I will heat her backside for this.

How the hell had Carrow made it here across the desert? Malkom had believed he’d separated her from his enemies.

He’d thought he would never lay eyes on her again, had resigned himself. He’d expected her to return to her home, crossing into the portal without a look back.

Then for him to know her scent once more . . .

Foolish female! He quelled the urge to yell for her to run from this place; he must act as if he didn’t care about her. Must not to give Ronath this leverage.

Otherwise, they would use her to punish him. Malkom could think of no more effective torment.

At best, they’d enslave her. She would fetch a fortune.

Damn it, why did she come? He craned his head to see her better, gashing his neck on the manacle, but he didn’t care.

She had concealed herself with a rich cloak over her body and hair, and she seemed to be floating through the crowd, which began swiftly parting for her.

Her movements were odd—too smooth yet aggressive at the same time. Malkom swallowed as she neared. Her shining boots . . . weren’t touching the ground.

For the first time, he could believe she was one among the eerie witches from olden tales who cooked men’s hearts and brewed noxious potions—all for a fee.

When she floated up the steps, he grated, “Carrow, leave . . . this place.” But his mouth was almost too dry to speak.

Instead, she stood beside him. When she pulled back her cloak, the crowd grew hushed. He was speechless.

She wore garments fit for an empress, a crown as well. Though his eyes were seared by the sun, he couldn’t look away. The light reflected off her gleaming blue-black hair. Her pale skin glowed amidst the filth of this place.

Her green eyes glittered menacingly. She was so beautiful, yet at the same time she looked deadly.

Malkom was awestruck.

“What gives you the right to do this?” Carrow asked Ronath—in Demonish.

Now she spoke his tongue? Or was it another spell? Her very voice sounded altered, her words delayed, coming out of her mouth as if filtered.

Ronath snapped his slackened jaw shut, then answered, “What business is it of yours, stranger? This is how we punish criminals in Ash. Especially one like him.”

“One like him, Ronath?”

The armorer frowned at the casual use of his name just as Malkom was wondering if she knew the demon somehow.

Ronath recovered, saying, “He owes us his death for a dozen crimes.”

He will announce that I was a vampire’s whore. Shame scalded Malkom, burning hotter than he’d ever imagined. Carrow would despise him. Then this will end. I will accept it.

“There are two murders he must atone for and—”

“Two murders?” she said, interrupting him.

Ronath was all too happy to tell her, “He killed our prince. And before that, he murdered his own mother.”

Carrow raised her brows at Malkom, but he could deny neither. So long ago, when he’d taken command of Kallen’s rebellion, he’d journeyed back to the slums to his mother’s hovel. He’d wanted her to see what he’d made of himself. I wanted her to regret. Instead, she’d tried to poison him.

How would Carrow react? “Channa,” he rasped.

She tilted her head, as if trying to make a decision about him.

Ronath said, “And there are many more crimes.”

Just as he took a deep breath to list them all, Carrow raised her gaze—a decision made?—and stared Ronath down. “You waste my time. Release him now.”

“Release him?” Ronath thought this comical. “Why do you not reveal your name, or join him?”

“I’m Carrow Graie of the Wiccan mercenaries.” The crowd grew restless with a witch in their midst. “And I want Malkom Slaine freed. If he killed anyone, I’m sure he had good reason.”

Now Malkom’s jaw slackened. With her slim shoulders back, she was standing up before all. For him. Aside from Kallen, no one had ever taken his side, ever stood up for him.

“Unchain him. At—once,” she ordered imperiously. As Ronath tried to calm the crowd, she turned, catching Malkom’s gaze to give him a furtive wink of reassurance.

He jolted in the chains, stunned anew. Though his body was a mass of injuries, he began straining against his bonds. Now that she was beside him . . .

’Tis not the end. Not until we say it is.

Ronath demanded, “What business have you with him?”

“He is my male.”

Hers? Declared before all! Murmurs sounded in the crowd. They were all shocked that such a female as this had claimed him in public. I am shocked as well. If Malkom also claimed her here today . . .

More struggling. The chains began to loosen.

Ronath squinted at Malkom. “Your heart beats.” He turned to Carrow. “So you are the whore who brought him back to life?”

With her palms beginning to glow, her expression turned lethal. In a chilling voice, she said, “And you dare seek to end it?” A white beam shot from her hand, aimed at his neck.