Page 101 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)

T he black army pennant whipped from the apex the guard towers flanking me.

Atop the wall, we stood, gazing down on the hillside below.

Ice, like long veins, dug into the rocks.

A lone Angel female approached on horseback, her white hair pulled tight against her head.

Beside me, Assyria shifted forward, much fucking better after almost dying yet again.

At our backs, the Deathveiled and officers were poised, ready to strike should more of her comrades decide to spring a surprise attack on us even after waving the green flag.

I wouldn’t put it past them simply because I’d do the same.

Two days had passed since our latest raid.

It had taken one to extract all the information we needed from the Padisa.

Much to my pleasure, she’d revealed Zaph was among the group facing us.

It was almost comical how quickly she’d given that morsel away.

He was such a fucking parasite that even most of the Angel officers didn’t like him.

I couldn’t wait to slaughter him. To pick off his wings one by one. To rip his bones from within his flesh and add his skull to Assyria’s throne—the final piece to complete it. It was no less than he deserved for hurting my mate.

The Angel slowed her mount, craning her neck up, up, up the high wall.

Her throat bobbed as she beheld the contingent of Demons waiting for her.

With shaking hands, she reached into her cloak and produced a note.

Holding it high in the air and turning it about, she announced, “Zahal Ishim wishes for you to read this, Halálhívó!”

Her voice was high and thin, and her eyes bounced around as if she were worried we’d jump down from above and drink her blood. Which, knowing what lies the Angels spread about us, was probably what she believed.

With a jerk of my chin, I directed Izzenna to fetch the paper for me. Black wings unfurled from her back, and she launched into the air, gliding in a lazy circle to the base of the wall.

The white mare neighed and retreated as she landed. Ignoring the beast, Izzenna reached for the note. The Angel female handed it to her by the tips of her fingers like she carried a lethal disease that would kill her simply from breathing the same air.

Izzenna wasted no time dusting her with dirt and returning to the wall. Landing in front of Assyria and me, she dropped into a kneeling stance and held out the parchment.

My blood thrummed with heady anticipation as I unfolded the note. Assyria edged closer and peered at it with me.

Fuck you, Halálhívó. How dare you take another from me? This time, there will be no mercy for your mate. We will string her up and bleed her dry like the animal she is. Then, we’ll make a great show of sacrificing her to the Goddess.

Tomorrow at high sun, meet on the wall. I want to see these Angels who have supposedly switched to supporting the Demons. Who have abandoned their faith and chosen to support your false idols. The figments of your imaginations.

As you know, the punishment for such actions in the Angel Realm is quartering, and the Koron and Korona wish to make an example of them. I have something you will want in return.

Zahal Ishim

I snorted and shook my head. We’d meet here, as he requested, but there was nothing he could trade me for our prisoners—mostly because they were all dead or close to it. But he didn’t know that, not yet. Assyria had been doing a damn good job of playing the part.

Each poisonous word revealed how thoroughly I’d rattled him. How I’d carved the perfect opportunity to create further disruption in their ranks. To plant dark seeds of doubt in the minds of those who accompanied him.

His desperation was blood in the water, and I was a predator who scented each drop of it. Let him wear the mask of dominance if it made him feel in control.

Because we both knew the truth.

He never stood a chance against me.

I stepped forward, my attention settling heavily over the Angel messenger. “Tell Ishim he will have his meeting tomorrow.”

She nodded, then yanked on the reins and steered her horse back the way she’d come.

The Angels squinted as I threw open the doors to the room where we’d been holding them. Banand shot Araquiel a sharp look before approaching me. “What did the Zahal say?”

“He wants to meet tomorrow,” I announced. Then, I stared his mate down. “Bring the prisoner to the main building. We need to talk.”

“What about me?” the Padisa hissed, stomping to the edge of her cell and gripping the bars. Blood caked one side of her face, though it was more healed than it had been the previous evening.

“Have you decided to switch sides?” My question was sharp, direct, and piercing.

She bared her teeth in response. “Never. Ishim will come for me and I won’t disappoint him by doing that to survive.”

I grunted and turned away from her. “Let’s go,” I told Banand, then stalked into the valley. Everyone else was already in the primary building, waiting for us. Assyria had offered to fetch them with me, but I wanted to speak to the pair alone.

The late afternoon sun flitted through the sparse trees, warming what little skin showed through my heavy clothes.

With the new year upon us, the seasons would change soon, though in the high peaks of the Skala Mountains, that came far later than in Uzhhorod or any of the other cities in the Demon Realm.

Araquiel blinked rapidly as the light hit her turquoise eyes.

Banand kept his hand on her upper arm, despite her attempt to jerk it out of his hold.

The tension between them was thick enough to slice with a sword.

She stumbled, and the tender way he kept her from falling, the way they glared at one another after, struck me like a blow.

It reminded me so much of Assyria and I when we’d first been forced together.

“Halálhívó,” Araquiel greeted me coolly when they came to a stop in front of me.

I glanced around us to ensure we were alone. No one seemed to want to be outside, even though the sun was shining.

“Have you coupled?” I demanded, not bothering with niceties.

“My body is not yours to command,” she snarled, embers sparking behind her eyes. “It is no business of yours.”

“It is when the two of you are living in my camp,” I snapped back. “It is when both of you pose a risk, and your bond even more so.”

I shifted my focus to Banand. “I remember how the bond screamed at me to claim my mate. It was an incessant, unrelenting beast. It took tremendous self control to resist it, and I know the challenge was far more difficult for me than it was for the Szélhámos. So have you?”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “No.”

My brows climbed my forehead. Months had passed since their bond snapped into place. I’d barely held out a week.

“I do not trust him,” Araquiel hissed, the mask she’d worn since her capture slipping.

“Nor I her. But this fucking bond…” Banand planted a fist in the center of his chest, and I understood his meaning without him having to explain further. “I can’t stay away. She never has been able to either.”

She yanked her arm out of his grasp and crossed her shackled wrists. “These haven’t exactly been conducive either.”

“Nor was being in a cage,” he shot back. The heat between them was scorching. Banand leaned in, ever so slightly, like he wanted to capture her mouth to force her to close her furious, blazing eyes.

“What would it take?” The conversation was devolving, and I needed an answer before it fractured entirely.

Their attention sliced to me. But it was Araquiel who spoke. “What do you mean?”

My nostrils flared as I exhaled. “What would it take for you to fuck?” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “For you to let him take you, and for you to take her?”

Banand ground his teeth. Araquiel stabbed him with a hateful glare.

Both spoke at once, but I held up a hand, silencing them.

“Ishim has requested a meeting for tomorrow. He wants to see the traitors for himself so he can tell the Koron and Korona all about it. Maybe even return to Sivy with a few.”

I let the information hang in the air like an executioner’s blade. The mates paled. For the first time, Araquiel’s animosity bled away, replaced by unfiltered terror.

“Unless you can figure out a way forward, where Araquiel can comfortably insert herself on the Demon side, she’ll go with them.”

Banand’s face turned a dark shade of red and he lunged for me.

But I was prepared, having been challenged over my mate as well, and I caught his arm and twisted it behind his back.

Holding him close to my chest, I looked over his shoulder at Araquiel.

Her face was a light shade of green, like she was going to heave up the contents of her stomach.

“Threats are no way to make me believe you aren’t an animal,” she said, but her voice was weak. The barest hint of clinking metal reached my ears.

“Do you truly believe that?” I asked her. Banand snarled and jerked in my hold, so I wrapped an arm around his throat, cutting off the blood to his brain.

She watched him slip from consciousness with horror in her eyes. I wouldn’t kill him—it was all a test for the two of them. One both were currently failing.

A scream caught in her throat, and she clutched it like it was her air scraping to be let in.

“Stop! Please!” She surged forward like something sacred was ripping from her chest. She leaped toward her mate like she could snatch him from me and ferry him to safety.

But she was no match for my might.

“Answer my question,” I commanded.

“No! I don’t! Have not I given you information enough?” she burst out, her grammar in the common tongue crumbling.

Immediately, I loosened my hold on Banand, who fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air. Araquiel went to his side, brushing his hair out of his face and checking on him with unexpectedly tender care.