TailWind (3 page)

"Sounds like someone important,” she mused.

"He thought he was,” Blaez said with a snort.

"Did the problem occur before or after that man died?” She heard him yawn and followed suit.

"After."

"Did you make him dead?"

"I wish. He was dead before I got to him but he'd have been dead anyway if I'd gotten to him first,” he answered.

"I assume he didn't die of natural causes."

"You assume correctly unless you consider swinging from a tree upside down with your guts hanging out is natural."

Her eyes widened. “He must have made somebody really mad."

"He made a lot of somebodies really mad, wench,” he said with a snort. “I just happened to be the one found standing under him as he swung in the breeze."

"And was arrested."

"And was arrested,” he agreed.

"You made bail then ran, huh? Didn't think you'd get a fair trial."

He smiled though he knew she couldn't see it.

"Why'd you run?"

"Somebody wants me to take the blame for General Morrison's untimely demise and there ain't no way I'm going to do that. Whoever paid my bail knew I'd skip and I'm sure they counted on bounty hunters coming after me in the hopes one of them would kill me before I could ever stand trial."

"So you're thinking that whoever paid your bail offed this guy, Morrison, and set you up to take the fall for them,” she said. “Man, that's cold."

"It worked,” he grumbled.

"Sure looks that way to me, wolfie."

Perfect silence descended on the ship. With the absence of any light at all—not even a hint of sky glow coming in through the portholes—the warm air became even more oppressive, weighing down on the werewolf and his uninvited guest. It almost seemed as though the blackness outside the ship was sucking up all sound as well as all the light and coolness.

"How did you escape Galrath?” he finally asked and when she didn't answer, he attuned his acute hearing to the place where he knew her to be and realized her breathing was soft, rhythmic and concluded she was asleep.

Instead of welcoming the peace of not having to hear her talk, Blaez felt a tiny tug of loneliness creeping over him. He closed his eyes, settled more comfortably in the chair and was soon asleep himself.

When Dolan woke to what he thought was early morning light, it was to find his unwanted guest kneeling on the jumpsuit and peering out the porthole. From the rear, her ass looked huge in the shapeless drab gray of her gown. She was wearing utilitarian sandals that looked clunky and uncomfortable.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a couch?” she asked. “At least one of us could have been comfortable last night."

He turned to look at the long couch that served as his bed then looked back at her ass.

"Are you going to ogle me or are you going to come look at one of the strangest things I think you'll ever see,” she said, not bothering to look around at him.

He tore his eyes from her derriere. “I've seen some pretty strange things in my day, wench,” he muttered but peeled himself out of the chair, wincing as his neck muscles let him know they hadn't been happy about his sleeping arrangement. He put a hand to the small of his back and stretched. Sauntering over to the porthole, he bent forward and looked over her shoulder since it was obvious she wasn't going to move aside to allow him access to the view. What he saw stilled the breath in his lungs.

"Pretty bizarre, huh?” she asked, twisting her head to look at him.

Blaez had to admit what he was seeing was, indeed, bizarre and unlike anything he'd ever encountered. There was a soft, grayish light spreading around the ship and out from it for about twenty feet or so but beyond that was the roiling darkness they'd encountered when they'd landed. The ground was mottled with what looked to be pale pink cobblestones but the stones were shifting, buckling as though they were breathing.

"If that was a tractor beam that pulled us down, could we be
inside
something?” she asked.

He turned to her, almost bumping his nose on hers. He pulled back. “Inside something?” he echoed.

"Like the belly of some kind of living beast,” she said softly. “Could that be alien flesh we're looking at? It looks slick on the ground."

Anything was possible, he thought, but what kind of beast would have a light in its gut. “It was a tractor beam, wench. That much I know. More than likely, if we're inside anything, we're inside the belly of some kind of vessel,” he told her.

"Huh,” she said and turned to look out the porthole again.

Without having a hand laid to it, the hatchway door lifted and they looked around. Blaez's left hand automatically went to the handle of the whip on his thigh and Rozenn reached out to grab his right arm in alarm. He shook her off with a snarling admonishment and stepped to the hatchway opening, expecting to find company, but there was no one there.

"What the hell?” he growled, looking out into the strange light and the tumbling darkness beyond.

"There's no one there, is there?” Rozenn asked. She had moved close to him.

"Wench, get the hell back to your seat and sit your wide-load ass down!” he hissed at her.

Rozenn jumped back, more hurt by his insult than from fear of his tone of voice or the blazing amber eyes he turned on her full force. She blinked when he bared his fangs at her and plopped down in her seat.

Goaded to beyond endurance by the female's nearness, Blaez did something he would not normally have done without a great deal of thought or planning—he stepped down from the hatchway steps and onto the heaving ground upon which his ship was sitting. As soon as his booted foot touched one of the ‘cobblestones’ the heaving motion ceased. Frowning heavily, he looked down at the runabout's landing skids and realized where the metal touched the ground, the expanse was as solid as the ones on which his feet were planted.

"This
is
bizarre,” he mumbled to himself. He took a step forward and the stone under his foot solidified. Another step, another solid surface upon which to stand. Two more steps, two more firm, unyielding stones.

His fingers flexed around the whip's handle and he took several more steps from the ship toward the expanse of darkness. The closer he came to that swirling gloom, the harder it became for him to draw breath and he realized the light around him was slowly fading. He looked up, squinting against the brightness overhead but even as he watched, the light lowered as though being turned down with a rheostat.

Something swished in the darkness in front of him and he took a step back, thumbing on the whip until a coil of light pulsed from the handle to lie on the ground and sizzle. The same swishing noise came from his left and he turned that way and his eyes narrowed.

There was a tree standing off to one side and it was laden with fruit. Beside it, a stream trickled over pristine white rocks. He knew damned well that tree and that stream hadn't been there when he'd stepped down from the hatchway. The terms forbidden fruit and fruit of the poisoned vine came into his mind like a lightning strike and the light around him dimmed even more. It felt as though he was being given a three minute warning to grab the fruit, the water, and get the hell out of town. He stood there—indecisive—for another moment and when the light lowered even more, he hurried to the tree, thumbing off the whip as he walked.

Pulling his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans, he plucked the rosy red fruits and dropped them into the makeshift bowl then hastened back to the ship, sprinted up the steps and dumped the fruit on the floor, grabbing the two water jugs he kept handy and jumped from the ship, making his way quickly to the stream. Even before he had the first jug filled, the light had lowered to such an extent he could hardly see. By the time the second jug was filled, he was stumbling back to the ship—heaving to breath and fearful he would become lost in the pitch darkness. Stumbling up the steps, he felt Rozenn move in behind him to shut the hatchway.

"That atmosphere is vile,” she said as she secured the hatchway.

"You can barely breathe in it,” he told her, gasping.

While he had been fetching their water, Rozenn had picked up the fruit he'd drop and had already eaten one of the rosy globes. She told him it was a nectarine and that it was good. “Whoever has us at least is providing."

"That tree and stream came out of nowhere,” he said.

"Aye, well, someone has a helluva lot of time on his or her hands, huh?” she countered.

Blaez didn't answer. He couldn't see her in the darkness but he could feel her near him. When her hand touched his, he snatched his back until he realized she was extending a handful of nectarines to him. He fumbled in the darkness until their fingers connected and he had the fruit in hand.

"Do you think he's going to keep us in the dark the rest of the day?” she asked.

"I don't like being kept in the dark,” he growled and took a bite of the fruit which proved to be delicious and juicy.

"Neither do I but I hate to use up what we have the phospho."

"Aye,” he agreed.

"I figure that light lasted all of about fifteen minutes, maybe less,” she said. “Do you think you can fix the wiring in that little amount of time?"

He shook his head then realized she couldn't see him. “No."

"So if he allots us fifteen minutes of light every day, how long do you think we'll be here?"

He could feel his fangs extending. “Just shut up and let me think, wench,” he ordered.

He finished the four nectarines and washed them down with several swigs of water from one of the jugs. The thought of what he'd consumed and drank being poisoned or drugged flitted once more through his mind but he pushed it firmly aside. They had to eat and they had to have water or they'd die anyway.

"You want some water?” he asked grudgingly.

"I've got the other jug,” she answered.

The werewolf clenched his jaw. Once more she'd made a move without him being aware of it and that unsettled him something awful. He was unaccustomed to having his control of a situation slip. Opening his mouth to berate her, he snapped it shut and sat there glaring into the darkness until his eyes ached and he closed them.

He must have slept or the food and/or water he'd consumed had been drugged for when Blaez opened his eyes, the light was back but Rozenn was gone. Jumping to his feet, he searched the cabin of the runabout but she was nowhere in sight. The hatchway was still secured from the inside so how the hell had she gotten out?

Jerking the hatch open, he moved outside, turning his head this way and that but he didn't see her. He walked around the ship—uneasy with every step he took—but he didn't find Rozenn. With his fingernails digging into his palms, he called out to her.

She came out of the darkness, the mist sweeping away from her as she stumbled forward. Her eyes were glazed, her face as white as snow and when he rushed to her, she collapsed in his arms.

He carried her into the ship and laid her on the couch that ran along the starboard wall. The light in the cabin was already beginning to dim. There was what looked like blood on the hem of her skirt and when he lifted the material to search for injuries, he found scratches all down her legs. Likewise the backs of her hands were scratched. As her eyelids fluttered open, she stared at him for a moment as though not recognizing him then burst into tears, flinging her arms around his neck.

Blaez Dolan wasn't used to women crying in his arms. He was a love-and-leave-em kind of man and her tears gave him a decidedly bad case of the willies. “Stop it,” he ordered. “Where the hell did you go and what were you doing?"

"He hurt me,” she said.

Pure unadulterated rage passed through the werewolf. “Who hurt you?"

She removed her arms and turned over, her back to him, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. “Leave me alone. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I just want to lie here and die."

There was a wide dark stain on the back of her gown and Dolan knew. He felt something turn inside him, something break loose, and put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “Rozenn,” he said softly. “Tell me what happened."

Her entire body was trembling and he could hear her teeth clicking together. He didn't stop to think but since the couch had been designed to fit his tall lanky, broad-shouldered body comfortably, he sat on the edge and stretched out beside her, putting his arm around her.

If he lived to be a hundred—and werewolves lived much longer than that if a silver bullet never found its way to their heart—he would not know how it happened. One moment he was lying on his side, his front to her back, clumsily trying to console her but then in the next she was facing him and their lips were touching, his fingers moving over her tearful face.

"Tell me,” he whispered, fierce protectiveness welling up inside him so completely, so unexpectedly he felt his heart clench.

"I woke up and he was on top of me,” she said. Her breath fanned across his face as her eyes locked with his. He put his hand over my mouth and I couldn't yell. I was pinned down and I couldn't move. He..."

Tears spilled to her cheeks.

He laid the tips of his fingers over her lips to silence her. There was no need for her to finish. He could see the devastation, the
knowledge
in her wounded gaze and he knew hatred so deep, so virulent, it threatened to consume him.

Blaez had spent a lifetime looking out for number one. There was neither room nor space in his black heart for anything other than the ship he had toiled so long and hard to acquire, the first thing in his life that had ever been entirely his.

She was a fragile flower, this rose. Her petals had been crushed, her stem broken, and she lay limply in his arms, her head to his shoulder as the light died completely and they were cast into utter darkness.

Instead of railing against the abolishing of the light, Blaez tightened his grip on the woman lying beside him and though she eventually relaxed and fell into a whimpering sleep, he lay awake and glared into the darkness, promising retribution for whoever had dared hurt her.