Fields of Blood (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 2) Read Online Free

then ripped his replacement arm off and thrown it at Foley’s feet like a prize.
    I rushed out, caught a glimpse of Grygg frozen in place behind the desk, and kept moving toward the hotel entrance—only to find Reun on his knees in front of Taeral, with Taeral’s knife plunged to the hilt in his stomach.
    Okay. So maybe he didn’t need my help.
    “Traitorous Seelie slime,” Taeral snarled, looming over him. “I will flay the skin from your flesh and wear it as a coat.”
    I shuddered. Mostly because I believed he’d do it.
    Reun made no move to attack, or use magic, or even try to take the knife out. “Taeral, son of Daoin,” he rasped, and blood bubbled on his lips. “I’ve come to surrender myself to your father.”
    My jaw dropped. But before either of us could respond, a new voice joined the conversation.
    “If you really wanna surrender, nasty little insect, you surrender to Denei.”
    Damn it. This was a complication we definitely didn’t need.
    Denei Duchene strode toward us from the back of the lobby with her brother Zoba in tow. She wore skin-tight black leather today. Her black hair was swept up into a bun, held in place by a pair of sharpened human bones. Zoba was also dressed in black, but it didn’t really matter what he was wearing. Not many people got past staring in horror at the tattooed skull that covered his face—unless it was to stare in greater horror at his mouth full of pointed teeth.
    She stopped beside Taeral, her glittering yellow eyes fixed on Reun. “We want him,” she drawled in her heavy Creole accent. “Don’t we, Zoba?”
    Zoba made a sound. It was not a good sound.
    “Stay out of this, hell-child,” Taeral snapped. “The Seelie is mine.”
    “Not this time, Fae. You always get the good stuff.” She planted a hand on her hip and glared at him. “We owe this cochon bastard, and we gonna break him ‘til he begs for death.” Her gaze slid to Reun, and a chilling smile rose to her lips. “You know why, after what you done to our kin. Ain’t that right, big boy?”
    Despite the fact that he was kneeling in a puddle of his own blood, Reun managed to look smug. “You’ve no claim to me, fledgling swamp-woman,” he said hoarsely. “Even the one you serve would not dare lay hand to a Seelie noble.”
    “Oh, yeah? How’s this for laying hands?”
    She stepped up and backhanded him, hard enough to draw blood.
    Taeral caught her wrist. “Enough,” he said, not unkindly, and released her. “I’ll hear what he’s come to say. And if I do not like it…” He reached out and yanked his knife free with a sharp downward thrust. Reun gasped, closing his hands over the gaping wound in his gut—and Taeral forced his chin up with the bloodied tip of the knife. “Then I will bring you personally to the Duchenes, and make sure you do not leave until they’ve had their fill of causing you pain.”
    “Good enough,” Denei said, her cold grin returning. “Pretty sure you ain’t gonna like anything he’s got to say. So we’ll be waiting. Come on, Zoba.”
    Zoba made a noise that could only be described as a pants-shitting threat of epic proportions, and then followed her out.
    “Now.” Taeral twisted the knife until it dimpled his skin. “On your feet, and explain yourself.”
    With a brief shudder, Reun rose slowly from the floor. He was the only Seelie I’d seen so far, and I wondered if they all looked like him. Shoulder-length blond hair, moustache and goatee, incredibly green eyes. Dressed like Errol Flynn in the old Robin Hood movies. He must’ve changed his glamour while he was killing the guy in Central Park, because the witnesses would’ve remembered him looking like that.
    He glanced at me. “DeathSpeaker,” he said. “You still wear your father’s stone. Tell me, how is it that it’s come to you?”
    Taeral shoved him. He staggered and almost fell. “You’ll not ask the questions here, traitor. You’ll answer them, and you’ll do it now.”
    “A