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The Fulbourn – Pitch & Sickle Book Five by D K Girl
The Diabolus Chronicles, Book 5
When the King of Daemonkind comes to call, be ready for hell to follow.
After Lucifer’s disturbing visit, the quest to destroy the Blight takes on a desperate urgency.
Finding Lieutenant Edward Charters is paramount.
But what role does a mortal man play in Seraphiel’s dangerous game?
The angel has sent Pitch a talisman from beyond the grave, a seemingly innocuous watch that may be the key to ending the Watcher King’s dark legacy. But to learn its secret Pitch and Silas must find the man intended to carry it.
As the search for the lieutenant begins, the Horsemen find themselves gifted with something more precious than any angelic token. An evening of unexpected freedom.
A night that will deepen their intimacy and bring long-stifled feelings to the fore.
But what price will they pay for choosing breathless pleasure over rigid duty?
The Morrigan have not forgiven the destruction at the greensward. They are prepared to do whatever it takes to rid themselves of the Horsemen and heed the Watcher King’s ghostly call.
The Fulbourn is Pitch and Silas’s greatest threat yet.
A place that will drive them into the depths of their most terrible fears and seek to tear them apart.
They are closer than ever before but will that fragile new bond be enough to save them?
Or have the daemon prince and his ankou found the nemesis that will destroy them once and for all?
The Diabolus Chronicles is a slow-burn MM Gaslamp Fantasy series that contains on-page sex scenes, gore and violence, and rather a lot of cursing.
This is the fifth book in the on-going series.
**Reader Note – This book contains mention of a previous sexual assault (The Greensward), and suggestion of sexual assault. (No on-page depiction)
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“Silas’s expression shifted just as quickly from angered to anxious.
‘What is it?’ He pleaded. ‘Have you been injured?’
‘I’m fine.’ Pitch sat up, gingerly, not so sure his head agreed with him. The ache at the back of his skull made him cringe. His recollections like tumours clinging there.
‘Set me down, this instant, you hooligan.’ Mr Fothergill was being held by a man that could mess up his face with just his pinky finger, yet he still found a way to be a pompous git. ‘How dare you — ’
‘I’d suggest you shut your mouth now.’ Silas snarled. And it was a snarl. One which Mr Fothergill paid full attention to. ‘Before I demand the police are brought into this matter.’
‘Police?’ Fothergill struggled to extricate himself from Silas’s grip but the ankou was not yet ready to let go of the man’s collar so he was going nowhere, raised onto his tip-toes as Silas held him high.
‘You were attempting to assault my sister.’
Pitch blinked. Oh gods, after all they had done in Lady Howard’s coach, in the hall, that was what Silas reached for?
“I did no such thing,’ Mr Fothergill blustered. ‘How dare you man. Miss Cargill, I beseech you to set this to rights.’
But Pitch had no more time for the Charters’ money man. He was well and truly done with Mr Fothergill. But Silas was another matter. Pitch was having trouble taking his eyes off him. He slipped off the table and found himself wobbly on his feet as he bent to straighten his skirts.
‘There was a terrible misunderstanding,’ he said, voice rusty. ‘In relation to Mr Fothergill’s interpretation of the word no. I’d like to go home now, if you don’t mind, Mr Cargill.’ Pitch kept his eyes lowered but peeked at Silas through his lashes. The ankou had come charging in like a horseless knight, here to save his damsel.
How silly. How bloody rousing.
But what the blazes was he doing here? Did Silas not think the daemon capable of handling this on his own? Had Lady Satine agreed and sent the ankou running? Silas’s presence was unnecessary of course. Pitch was fine. And he would deal with the recollections of Seraphiel at a later time too. Everything was fine.”
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The Diabolus Chronicles
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