Page 128 of The Herlequin: Pitch & Sickle 6

‘What?’ Silas frowned.

I do not know the darker secrets of the Morrigan. I was a servant, as you are. The Fulbourn was the only stronghold I knew of. And you destroyed it.There was a pause in the delivery.I do not know where they have taken your daemon.

Silas stared at the headless rider, to where the creature’s eyes might be. A strangled, disbelieving and wholly inappropriate laugh came from him. ‘You lied?’ Why the bloody hell had he ever imagined there would be truth? But confusion snatched at the frayed edges of Silas’s mind. ‘Then where the hell were we riding to?’

Was the fae biding time until the Morrigan found them? Or did he intend to deliver an ankou to the Erlking? Was the Herlequin lying in wait somewhere? Silas’s addled thoughts tried to arrange things sensibly. But none of it made sense. If the headless horseman sought to bring him harm, he’d had ample time.

But Silas remained in one piece. Exhausted, still breathing, and now united with the Valkyrie.

The Dullahan shrugged.I had not really decided. I was simply enjoying being free.

Silas’s mouth hung open. He was caught in a strange place, one between utter fury and insensible mirth.

The countryside was so still, barely the squawk of a bird to be heard, as he found his words.

‘Do you know anything of value at all?’

That would depend on whether we consider the same things valuable.Every infuriating word said with the airiness of spring’s morning breeze.

Silas’s incredulity shifted back to annoyance. ‘The angel the Valkyrie spoke of, then? Who are they?’

I do not know that creature. Only those who rode with the Hunt, and I do not rank them highly. They act with such blind devotion to their masters, a snivelling subservience that is not even forced upon them by a whip, as mine was. They are toady. I have never liked toads.

Byleist’s disdain rattled his voice, the harsh scrape of a field of dead cornstalks. Silas found himself thinking, foolishly so, that Pitch would enjoy the challenge of this headless fae’s company. The bluntness, the air of indifference would amuse the daemon, who enjoyed pushing at the bounds of a person until they found themselves acting in ways they were unaccustomed to.

Like thieving from death, and defying gods. And fearing nothing but losing what they treasured most.

Silas ran his finger over the ring. He barely recognised himself anymore, and that was not so terrible a thing as it could have been.

The hoot of an owl drew their attention. Silas raised weary eyes skyward. Byleist did the same in his way.

There flew not one but two owls, low and fast towards them, rushing in over the undulating landscape.

One tawny, one white as snow.

My lord?The Dullahan spoke flatly but Silas had no doubt of the concern being voiced.

He shook his head. ‘It is all right.’ It wasn’t, but that was no fault of the owls. At least their arrival peeled away one thin layer of Silas’s fear. Whatever had kept the Lady and the Order away before now, was done with. ‘They are with me.’

Marcus the djinn flew at them, followed by the father of the tawny owl Silas and Pitch had rescued from the witch-bottle house. Or perhaps it was the poor sod they’d freed from the cage himself.

Either way, the presence of that bird was a consequence of a good deed, done by a daemon who didn’t believe himself capable of such things.

The Dullahan shifted, drawing Silas back from bitterly sweet thoughts.

I do know something you may consider of value. That you shall need far more than a burned angel, a stoned horse and two birds, if you hope to reach your prince.

Silas shook his head. He stepped from the doorway and made his way to where Lalassu waited, her mighty elegance frozen in stone. Her sturdy melody had not faltered once since he arrived. A subtle reassurance that he’d nearly missed in his panic.

He set his hand against the mare’s broad chest. Her heart thumped beneath his palm. A beat as sure and steady as Silas’s own.

‘You fail to tell me anything of worth, Byleist. In Sherwood, you said there was nothing more certain than my word, and you were right.’ Silas closed his eyes, Lalassu’s heartbeat grounding him. ‘I have promised Pitch I will never abandon him. So I shall find him, whether the entire Order is at my back or I am utterly alone. I don’t need hope, to reach him. He has my word…he has far more. And no angel, god, man, or monster shall keep this distance between us.’

The Diabolus Chronicles continues….