Page 22 of Horns of Wicked Ebony (Deathcaller Duet #2)
I pitched to the side, catching myself on a pole.
“Rokath!”
Still no response.
Fuck, I needed to get us out of here. Fear lacing my ribs, I raced back to Banand and Zurronar. My hands shook so badly, it took three tries to jam the key into the lock to free Banand.
“We need to go. Now,” I snapped without a hint of remorse. My mate was in trouble, and he wasn’t responding to me.
He said he wouldn’t die…
“Aye,” Banand replied, lifting the keys from me. I didn’t protest, not when adrenaline spiked in my veins and made concentrating impossible.
A clank sounded, and then, the door to Zurronar’s cage swung open.
The male stepped forward, using the bars for support, while Banand went to free the others.
The five burst from their confines, teeth bared and ready to fight.
But all the males wore silver bangles around their ankles and wrists, locking down their magic.
That explained why Zurronar looked like he hadn’t healed from whatever ailment affected him. Banand hooked the maroon-eyed Demon and half-carried him toward the exit. When we emerged into the torture room, Banand paused and shuffled Zurronar to two of the others. Then, he turned to me.
“Do you have a dagger?”
Hesitantly, I drew one from my hidden pocket and handed it to him. “What for?”
He dipped his head to indicate the male closing in on death. “Put him out of his misery.”
My stomach clenched. I’d watched my father slaughter plenty of animals—a horse who had gone lame and could no longer pull a plow, a calf born with a mangled leg, goats that had been unable to deliver their kids.
The way Banand spoke reminded me so much of that sentiment.
Yet he wasn’t wrong. Offering this male passage into peace was better than allowing the Angels to continue torturing him.
I doubted the Angels would offer him a pyre so his soul could move to the next life either.
“I’ll find something to start a fire,” I said, fierce determination spreading through my limbs. We were making our escape, after all, and what better fuck you to the Angels than to burn down as much of their camp as we could on the way out?
Banand told the others to continue to the front of the tent.
I searched the shelves for anything flammable.
A row of bottles drew my attention, and I snatched at them, yanking off the stoppers and sniffing.
The first four were healing potions—nothing to hold a flame.
But then, I spotted a jar of oil stuffed behind a few instruments.
My heart leaped, and I climbed onto the table, knocking the metal aside with a sweep of my hand.
Lifting the lid, I was immediately assaulted by the stench of seed oil.
This will do nicely.
I dropped down and returned to Banand, whose head was bowed. “Follow the Weaver’s thread to peace. May you live long in your next life,” he prayed, words deep and resonant.
My throat thickened as I dipped my chin to my chest. Quietly, I joined him in honoring our soldier. “May your gift never fade.”
Rokath and I had been exhausted, broken, when we offered a few words to those we had burned for their sacrifice.
But he’d insisted on speaking it over every single male.
Hadn’t stopped even when his voice was hoarse from the number of times he’d repeated himself.
And from that, I’d learned an invaluable lesson in leadership: honor those who followed.
To fight for the Demon cause was to risk the Reaper slicing their thread, and they deserved to be acknowledged, even for a moment.
Banand drew the knife across the suffering male’s throat, and garnet bloomed and spilled over the sides. The rise and fall of his chest halted a moment later, signaling the end to his suffering.
I lifted my head and rolled my shoulders back again, gathering my strength for the next phase of the rescue mission.
A chill swept over me as the tall, lanky male straightened and looked at the jar in my hands. “I am impressed, Assyria. The Halálhívó is known for his cruelty and lack of mercy. It seems some of that has rubbed off on you, at least as far as the Angels are concerned.”
I decided then I liked Banand immensely. He didn’t treat me as some weak female, only good for spreading my legs. He recognized me for who I was and what I was capable of.
“Perhaps I want vengeance of my own,” I shot back with forced bravado, drawing my other dagger.
But internally, dread knotted my stomach because Rokath still hadn’t responded to me.
Rage drummed on his side of the bond, though it held a potent edge of terror.
Whatever was happening with the diversion, it had claimed his sole focus.
The sooner we escaped the confines of this miserable striped tent, the sooner they could retreat away from whatever was causing Rokath so much agony.
I dipped the blade into the jar, wetting it with the oil, then flung drops all around us.
Banand chuckled and fetched a few long-stemmed candles from a nearby table.
“Light it up,” I told him, anger pounding through me. These fucking Angels would burn for how they’d treated my kith and me. “We’ll spread more on the way out.”
“Aye, mate of the Halálhívó,” Banand said, tipping the flame toward a wet spot on the dead Demon’s pants.
Careful not to spill any seed oil on my clothing, I retraced my steps to the front of the tent, where the others waited with Zurronar. Smoke billowed, thick and greedy, devouring everything around it. Banand emerged from the cloud at a jog, carrying two more candles. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I quipped, calling on my magic to weave Araquiel’s face back over my own. A few of the males let out low coughs, and I smothered one of my own.
“Bury your faces in your shoulders,” Banand suggested, yanking up his dirty tunic to cover his nose. The others did as he suggested.
My shadows fell away, and a few gave me a wary glance as I became the Angel female again. “I’ll go first,” I croaked in Demonic, trying not to inhale the cloying air.
Using the back of my hand, I eased the entrance open, scanning for any indication that the two sentries had returned. When I found no sign of life, I slipped outside, only slightly disappointed I wouldn’t get to slice them up on our way out.
Once I was certain the area was clear, I held the flap open for the others .
“That way,” I pointed in the direction of the almond trees. “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”
The two hauling Zurronar between them rushed forward first, followed by the other three. Banand and I brought up the rear, spreading more fire in our wake. Shouts rang out in all directions as more and more smoke filled the sky.
A particularly large tent, the white broken up by a pattern of swirls, loomed ahead of us, and I beelined toward it.
Dropping my dagger in the grass, I gripped both sides of the nearly empty jar and flung the remaining contents on the light fabric.
Then, I tossed it down the alley, more oil spilling along the way.
Banand threw one candle toward the jar and the other onto the massive spot on the tent.
Flames ignited, the heat causing us to flinch back.
“That should take a while to put out,” I commented, satisfaction curling through me.
So maybe I hadn’t slaughtered any Angels today, but I’d burned their fucking camp and the prison they’d kept us in.
“Come on, we need to move,” Banand said, glancing around us. “Can’t have the Halálhívó kill me for failing to protect his mate after I am finally rescued, can I?”
I snorted and jogged alongside him, checking down each avenue we passed to ensure we weren’t being pursued. To my relief, no Angels appeared. The Fates were truly on my side for my first mission, a welcome change from how the rest of my life had unfolded.
The edge of the camp came into view, and the others crossed into the narrow strip of land between the tents and the trees.
“Faster!” Banand shouted. The males in front of us put on a burst of speed. My heart thudded against my ribs as Banand and I sprinted for cover, in close pursuit. My lungs burned from the smoke I had inhaled, and an ache blossomed between my ribs.
But I didn’t stop. Didn’t relent my pace. Not when the sweet scent of almonds began to overpower that of the earthy seed fire.
Our group burst into the orchard, chests heaving. The males leaned against thick trunks, slumping down to hide themselves from view. Banand went to Zurronar immediately, checking him over for any sign of his condition worsening.
“Rokath, I’ve got them!” I shouted down our bond. Doubled over, hands gripping knees, I sucked down air like I had water once we’d survived the harsh desert.
I turned to look back at the camp, mouth popping open when I noticed just how far our fire had spread. Screams filled the air, and I squinted, attempting to find the rest of the strike team among the chaos.
A few staggered toward us, half-running as the flames highlighted their forms in ruby and gore. Wings battered the air overhead, drawing my gaze upward.
And when I spotted my mate, a cry tore from my throat.