DarkWind: 2nd Book, WindDemon Trilogy (7 page)

At last, he nodded: once and emphatically. “All right, woman. This round goes to you.” He took a step toward the screen. “But the game isn’t over.”

Caitlin felt a shiver running down her spine. Even as she watched him hand a wicked-looking dagger to the man beside him on the bridge she was not relieved when he held his arms out for her inspection in an attempt to show he had no other weapons on his person. His strong-looking hands were most likely all the weapons this warrior needed.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Bring him over, Dixon,” Caitlin ordered, rolling her eyes at the shriek of denial from Wellmeyer.

“Shields down, then?” Dixon asked worriedly. There was no other way to transport the man without squeezing him into space dust.

Caitlin’s eyes were locked on McGregor’s. “Aye, shields down, but weapons on kill.” She saw McGregor’s lip quirk upward in scorn.

“Engaging, then,” Dixon mumbled and his fingers flew over his keyboard to input the transportation data.

When the tall blond man materialized only ten feet from her, Caitlin Kelly felt the instant chill dropping the temperature on the bridge. His frosty glower came straight at her and when he stalked up to her, stopping within only a foot of her to glare down into her upraised eyes, the animosity he gave off was tangible.

“When this is through, when I have him safely on board The Ravenwind, I’m going to come back for you,” he said in a low, threatening voice.

She had to swallow before she could answer for her mouth had gone dry as cotton. “I don’t think so,” she said with more confidence that she felt.

“Count on it, whore,” he returned and was shocked to the toes of his highly-polished black boots when the woman drew back a hand and slapped him as hard as she could across his left cheek, rocking his head sideways and splitting his lip.

“Don’t you ever call me that again!” Caitlin snarled, her eyes flashing green fury at him.

McGregor slowly turned his head to her and the fierce, savage look made the men on the bridge of the Orion lift their weapons and point them straight at him. Peripherally he was aware of the danger aimed his way, but from the look on his face, it didn’t matter. This man, whose throat bore a long, wicked slash, had courted death once before, had embraced it and survived its deadly kiss.

“If it is the last thing I do,” he told her, “I will make you sorry you did that.”

“You go to hell,” she flung at him in a steady voice.

“He’s been there.”

Every eye turned to the elevator where Khiershon Cree was standing, supported by Cathy Atherton who was having a hard time keeping him on his feet.

“Khier!” McGregor shouted, rushing toward him just as Cree began to pitch forward.

“This is your
gods-be-damned fault!” Iyan McGregor grumbled as he placed an unconscious Cree on the gurney. The tall blond warrior had carried his friend in his arms all the way down to sickbay, ignoring Caitlin, the only other passenger in the elevator.

“Eat shit and die, asshole,” Caitlin returned.

A puzzled look shifted over McGregor’s face, but as the translation came to him from his ship, he literally growled. “Woman, if you do not stop insulting me, I...”

“Get the hell out of my way,” Caitlin told him and literally pushed the big man back from the gurney. She bent over her patient, concerned for the paleness of his complexion. “Tell me what I need to do,” she demanded.

McGregor folded his arms over his massive chest. “You tell me,” he snorted. “You seem to think you are in charge here.”

Caitlin rounded on the man and came toe to toe with him, squinting up into his sneering face with a countenance as rigid as his was condescending. “Look, you overgrown wheat stalk,” she insulted him. “I don’t know the first thing about Reaper anatomy and there are organs inside this man that...”

McGregor shook his head. “Not organs,” he stated.

“Then what are they?”

“That which makes him what he is: his parasites.”

A wave of nausea hurtled through Caitlin and her face took on a greenish cast before she turned away, hating the look of amusement that had shifted over McGregor’s lean jaw.

“He is in need of Sustenance,”  McGregor told her. He cocked his head to one side, and then grinned viciously. “And it must come from you.”

Caitlin was running a diagnostic on her patient, gathering temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, but when McGregor made his statement, she stilled, turning her head to stare slack-jawed at him. “W...what?” she stammered.

McGregor shrugged. “You saved his life; his life belongs to you. The Sustenance must come from your veins.” He grinned brutally. “A single pint will suffice.”

“No,” Caitlin said, shaking her head emphatically. “That is not an option.”

McGregor said nothing for a moment, watching her go about the business of taking care of his friend. When he spoke, his tone was level.

“If he dies, every one on this ship will die, as well.” When Caitlin turned her attention to him, he nodded. “Aye, and I can promise deaths that will be as excruciating and prolonged as the pain those bitches gave my friend.”

Caitlin looked away from McGregor’s probing stare. “I am doing everything I can to keep him alive, but...”

“Then open your veins and feed him,” McGregor told her. “That is the only way.”

There was no reason not to donate blood to save the man’s life, Caitlin thought. She had always made it a point to give plasma and blood whenever it was needed for those crewmembers that were human. Artificial blood was widely used in cases of emergency, but it was not as effective as the real thing.

McGregor sensed her wavering. He took a step closer, lowering his voice to a soft, gentle purr. “He is a good man,” he told her. “A man who should not have had this happen to him. He is also a warrior and our people need his abilities, his guidance. We are at war, Lady, and he is the only one capable of rallying all the tribes together: Rysalian, Serenian, Necromanian. Will you let us be enslaved once more for the sting of a needle?”

Caitlin stepped back, well away from the strong male presence looming over her. His natural masculine scent was very intoxicating, almost sensual, and she wondered if Rysalian males gave off pheromones like Venusian males did.

“What is it to be?” McGregor prodded. “Will you let this man die?”

Caitlin was looking down at Cree. The livid bruises on his handsome face gave mute evidence of the pain the man had already suffered. Her tender heart went out to him and she reached out to unzip the sleeve of her utility jumpsuit, rolling the sleeve up as she turned her back on McGregor and walking over to one of the med techs.

“Are you sure?” Lisa asked quietly, risking a glance at the tall blond warrior who was staring impassively back at them.

“Just do it before I change my mind,” Caitlin said.

McGregor leaned against the gurney where his friend lay. He could hear the soft intake and exhalation of Khier’s breath and knew the warrior was deep in the realms of unconsciousness, thus unaware of what was happening around him. Which was good, McGregor thought with a grimace, for he was about to allow something he highly suspected Khier was not going to like. His keen blue eyes were intent on the two women as the Sustenance was being drawn. As the rich dark red fluid began to flow into the tubing, he turned his head and looked down at Khier. What he saw almost made him intervene in the bloodletting, but then he let his gaze drift over Khiershon’s pale face with its bruises and cuts and his jaw tightened. He stifled the urge to put an end to what he knew shouldn’t be done.

“Is he waking?” Caitlin asked as she came over to the gurney, rolling down her sleeve as she walked.

Iyan McGregor realized the woman had seen Khier’s eyes opening. He only hoped she had not seen the crimson glow from those lupine orbs. “No,” he answered, drawing the woman’s scrutiny to him lest she see what she should not. He held out his hand, holding her eyes on him. “If you will allow me, I will administer the Sustenance.”

“That’s quite all right,” Caitlin said. “I can inject...”

“Inject?” McGregor asked, and then chortled. “Woman, the Sustenance doesn’t go into his veins!”

“Then what...?” Caitlin stopped, realizing her mistake, then swallowed, trying to keep the nausea that was once more threatening to erupt from doing so.

“Hand me the Sustenance and let me feed him, Lady,” McGregor suggested. “I know what I am about here.” Inwardly, he winced for that was not the case at all. He suspected he was doing something for which he would eventually pay dearly with Khier.

Caitlin could not look at her patient. Instead, she held out her hand for the flexibag of blood Lisa was holding, took it from her and thrust it toward McGregor. She and her med tech had no desire to watch Caitlin’s blood being given to Cree so both turned away.

There was a moment’s hesitation on McGregor’s part, then his stubborn male ego kicked in and he slipped a hand under Cree’s neck and lifted his friend’s head. “Cree, shoolin.”
Cree, drink.

Cree’s eyelids fluttered open at the rich scent of copper that wafted under his nose. The crimson light was bright in his eyes and his nostrils quivered.

“Shoolin, e’kael,” McGregor said softly.
Drink, my brother.

McGregor watched as Cree tried to turn his head away from the offering, but refused to allow it. He forced a single drop of the woman’s blood to his friend’s lips and it was all that was needed to overcome any objection Khiershon might have. The parasite inside the man took over and the greedy thing forced its host to drink.

Iyan felt a stab of remorse as Cree’s crimson stare fused with his own worried blue one. There was recrimination and deep hurt in that wounded stare and McGregor was acutely ashamed that he had sinned as he had. He lowered his eyes, sensing the hopeless anger building in his friend. When the last drop of fluid had been consumed, he lowered the flexibag and set it aside.

“You should not have done this,” he heard Cree croak. “You knew better, Iyan.”

He could not look at his friend, but lifted his head and looked at the two women. The woman who had given her blood to feed the Reaper was staring at him. She had heard the low exchange and was coming toward them.

“Do not let her,” Cree ordered. “Not now.”

McGregor stepped away from the gurney and placed himself between the Reaper and the woman. He held up a hand. “He will Transition soon,” he told them. “I must have a place to...”

Caitlin’s eyes went wide in her suddenly pale face. “Oh, sweet Mary!” she exclaimed, cutting him off. Her attention flew to Cree then shot back to McGregor. “We have a containment cell.”

“Then have it readied,” McGregor said softly, his conscience pricking him as he looked down into the woman’s fearful eyes. Despite his dislike of her, he knew he had done a terrible thing.

Caitlin hurried to the Com-Link and was speaking urgently, giving orders to the security team. Lisa had backed against the bulkhead, not knowing why she felt so keenly unsettled, but sensing Caitlin’s fear and taking it as her own.

“I’ll carry him wherever he needs to go,” McGregor said, slipping his arms under Cree’s shoulders and knees.

“This way,” Caitlin said breathlessly, leading the way to the elevator. She barely glanced at Cree so therefore did not see the bright red gleam from his fierce eyes as they settled on her. “I’ll show you...”

“No!” McGregor was quick to deny. “Just tell me. Believe me when I tell you that you do not wish to be anywhere near this warrior when he goes into Transition!”

From what Caitlin already knew of the Reaper, she knew that to be true. Giving instructions on how to reach the containment cell, she stood back and watched as McGregor carried his friend into the elevator and the doors shushed closed.

“I am sorry, Khier,” McGregor said, lowering his gaze to his friend as the elevator lowered.

Cree said nothing for he could feel the creature inside him beginning to stir. He had to try to keep it at bay until McGregor was out of way of any danger. He only hoped he was strong enough to do that. As angry as he was with his boyhood friend, he feared he would pulverize Iyan McGregor if given the chance.

“
We cannot allow
them to resume their journey,” Iyan told his First Officer via the Vid-Com at his wrist. He was speaking quietly so the Terran crewmembers would not hear.

“He is going to be very angry at you, Iyan,” Nyndham Dak warned.

Iyan sighed. “He already is and when he comes out of Transition, I may be his next meal!”

Nyndham ignored the remark for he knew nothing that side of the Abyss would make Khiershon harm Iyan McGregor. “I can cripple their ship,” the First Officer said. “By our standards, it is a primitive piece of space flotsam.”

“By our standards,” Iyan scoffed. “Every ship we have has been put together piecemeal, Dak, from scrap we’ve gathered all over this gods-be-damned galaxy.” He spat out a choice Diabolusian curse. “By our standards, my hairy arse! This ship could run rings around the best of our fleet.”