The Nightwind's Woman (18 page)

The name was a venomous curse on her
tongue. She wanted nothing more than to snap the neck of the bitch, twist her
head from her body and piss into her screaming mouth.

A scraping sound at the door snatched all
thoughts of the brutal vengeance she wanted to enact against the Warden’s
whore. She tensed, priming her body to launch itself against whoever opened the
portal. Swiping her tongue greedily over her lips, she slowly eased to her feet
as the cell door began to open.

* * * * *

Kenzi jumped as the door to the operatory was
flung open. Her eyes widened as she saw four guards struggling with a violently
thrashing prisoner who was hissing and spitting like an enraged feline. One of
the guards had three livid red scratches down his cheek and an expression on
his beefy face that said he was more than willing to beat the hell out of the
one who had marked him.

“The Saurian,” he told her as the four men
wrestled the twisting, turning, spitting prisoner to the exam table.

“Oh yes,” Kenzi said. This was the one to
which the Supervisor had instructed her to administer some drug called
fírinne.
She glanced at the vac-syringe that had been pre-filled with the drug.

As she watched, the four guards manhandled
the prisoner—Kenzi realized it was a female—onto the exam table and began to
lash her down with the heavy restraints at each corner. Another strap went
around her hips and another across her chest.

The guard with the lacerations on his cheek
put the back of his hand under his chin to wipe away the blood dripping there.

“I need to see to those scratches,” Kenzi
told him.

He didn’t reply but gave a curt nod. His
gaze was latched on the prisoner. A muscle ground in his cheek and his eyes
were savage.

“Would you sit over here, please?” Kenzi
asked.

His jaw was clenched tight as he stomped
over to the chair she indicated and sat down heavily.

One close look at the claw marks and she knew
they would need stitches. She told him as much.

“No anesthetic,” he said. His eyes flipped
up to hers. “I mean it, Doc.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“Just do it,” he said, putting his hands to
his thighs.

The prisoner was screeching at them in a
language Kenzi had no way of understanding. She doubted the men understood the
woman either but her ravings seemed to piss off the guard in the chair for he
ordered one of his men to shut her up.

Staring in shock, Kenzi watched the guard
grab a handful of 4x4 gauze squares then jam them into the prisoner’s gaping
mouth.

“That could choke her!” Kenzi complained.

“Let it,” the wounded guard muttered.

“I can’t—”

“See to Jacobsen and I’ll take care of the
Saurian.”

Kenzi turned to find Kerreyder entering the
operatory. From the look on his face, he would not countenance any argument
from her.

The archdemon came to the exam table and
stared down at the writhing female who was making grunting sounds as she
struggled to break free.

“You know who I am,” he said.

A wild cacophony rose from the prisoner.

“So you know I hold your pathetic life in
my hands.”

Kenzi was at the med cabinet getting
suturing and antiseptic supplies when he said that. She glanced around, a frown
furrowing her brow.

“I’ll remove the gauze but if you say one
word, make one fucking sound, I’ll squeeze your neck like a Terran toothpaste
tube until your brains squirt out your ears.” He leaned over her. “Is that
clear, bitch?”

The prisoner stilled instantly. Apparently
she feared the archdemon would make good on his threat.

“Now,” Kerreyder said, straightening up. “We
can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which would you prefer?”

“The hard way,” the guard with the injured
face growled.

“My thought too Jacobsen,” the archdemon
acknowledged.

The prisoner mumbled something behind her
gag.

Kerreyder loomed over the prisoner once
more. “You bite me, reptile, and by Jee Yn Ayr’stoes I will crush you
like a bug,” he warned. “Understood?”

Nodding slowly, the prisoner looked away
from the archdemon’s glaring eyes.

Roughly plucking the gauze from the Saurian’s
mouth, Kerreyder tossed it to the floor then wiped his fingers down his pant
leg, his lips twisted with disgust.

“What kind of key were you searching for
and to what lock does it go?” he asked.

Kenzi was about to swab antiseptic down the
guard’s cheek but the loud gasp that came from the prisoner made her look
around. The woman’s eyes were bulging and her face was a sickly green as she
stared at the archdemon.

“How do you know of the key?” she asked,
her voice a rasp like dried cornstalks rubbing against one another.

“What kind of key?” Kerreyder repeated.

The Saurian shook her head. “I cannot tell
you!” she said. “She would…” She clamped her mouth shut.

“She?” Kerreyder questioned. “She who?”

Shaking her head repeatedly, the prisoner
refused to answer.

Kerreyder looked to Kenzi. “I need you to
administer the drug,” he told her.

Kenzi looked down at her patient.

“I can wait,” the guard said, raising his
chin.

“Now, McKenzi,” the archdemon prompted.

Tuatara whipped her head toward the female
in the white lab coat and narrowed her reptilian eyes on the woman. No one saw
the wild gleam of speculation and the intense glare of hatred that flitted
through the elliptical pupils.

Laying aside the bottle of antiseptic and
the cotton ball in her hand, Kenzi picked up the vac-syringe and brought it
over to the exam table. She locked gazes with Kerreyder. “Will this hurt her?”

“Just administer the drug,” the archdemon
commanded.

“Will it hurt her?” Kenzi repeated. She
made no move to do as he ordered.

“It could,” Kerreyder admitted.

“What is it?” the prisoner asked, eying the
instrument. “What is in that?”

“Just a little something to loosen your
tongue,” Kerreyder said.

The Saurian bucked against the bonds
holding her. “
Fírinne
?” she queried. “Not
fírinne
!” She jerked savagely.
“You can’t give that to me!”

“I can and I will,” the archdemon said. “Do
as you are told, McKenzi.”

“You can’t!” Tuatara shouted. Her eyes were
wild as she stared at the vac-syringe. “You can’t give me that drug!”

“What will it do to you?” Kenzi asked her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kerreyder snapped. “Just
give her the drug.”

“Not if it is going to harm her,” Kenzi
said. She turned to put the vac-syringe on the counter but the archdemon shot
out his hand and jerked the instrument from her. “Hey!” She tried to grab it
back but one of the guards stepped in her way.

“Last chance, lizard girl,” Kerreyder said
as he put the barrel of the vac-syringe against the Saurian’s shoulder.

“No!” Tuatara screamed. “Don’t!”

Kerreyder bore down on the instrument, the barrel
digging into the scaly flesh. “I will ask only once more. What kind of key?”

The Saurian shuddered hard. “Hades’ Key!”
she whimpered. “I was looking for Hades’ Key!”

The archdemon blinked. “The key to the
Underworld?” he demanded.

“She brought it here centuries ago and hid
it for her mistress,” Tuatara cried.

“Who did?” he barked.

“Hecate!” the Saurian said.

“The goddess of magic?” Kenzi asked.

“She is also Persephone’s minister,”
Kerreyder stated. “I’ll wager the queen of hell stole her husband’s key and
sent her handmaiden to Terra to hide it from him as a safeguard.” He narrowed his
eyes. “Is that what happened, reptile?” When she didn’t readily answer, he
flexed his finger on the trigger of the vac-syringe.

“
Aye!
” Tuatara answered. “The queen
never meant for Hades to ever find it!”

“And it is buried somewhere in that
graveyard?”

“It is on a headstone,” Tuatara said. “Part
of the ornamentation.”

The archdemon turned to one of the guards. “Find
the Nightwind and Sorn. Tell them they will need to return to Florida to locate
that key.” When the guard spun on his heel and hurried off, Kerreyder looked
down at the Saurian. “How did you know it was in a backwater place like Milton,
Florida?” he asked.

“Naamah told me,” came the miserable
answer.

Kerreyder’s mouth dropped open. For a
moment he couldn’t speak but when he did, the anger in his voice made everyone
in the room take a step back. Even the guard seated in the chair pulled his
body toward the wall behind him.

“When did that bitch tell you about the
key?” he snarled.

“When she bid me castrate Yn Drogh Spyrryd,”
Tuatara replied. “It was her idea to weaken him in that way.”

Kerreyder cursed under his breath. “Sounds
like something that twat would do,” he mumbled. He handed the vac-syringe to Kenzi.
“We won’t be needing this now.”

“May I stitch this gentleman’s wounds,
then?” Kenzi asked.

Kerreyder waved a dismissive hand. He
pivoted slowly then walked out of the room without a backward glance.

“This can wait, milady,” the injured guard
said and started to get up. Kenzi stopped him with a firm hand to his shoulder.

“No, it can’t. God only knows what was
clinging to her claws when she scratched you,” she said. She straightened her
shoulders. “The wounds need cleaning and stitching.”

“I hope his skin falls off.” Tuatara
smirked.

“One more word from you and I’ll jam that
vac-syringe into you,” Kenzi said through clenched teeth. She glanced at the
remaining two guards. “Roll that exam table into the room next door.”

“You are going to be sorry the demon ever
laid hands to you,” the Saurian told Kenzi. “I will see to it!” She cackled. “
Naamah
will see to it! He belongs to her!”

Kenzi pointed to the glob of 4x4s Kerreyder
had pulled from the prisoner’s mouth then zeroed her attention on one of the
guards. “Pick those nasty things up and if she says another word, cram them
back into her mouth.”

“Aye, milady!” one of the guards agreed and
bent over to do as she ordered, grimacing as he plucked the damp gauze from the
floor.

As the guards rolled the Saurian from the
room, Kenzi set to work on the wounded guard.

“You’re going to need a tetanus shot,” she
told him. “Are you going to give me some shit about that?”

“No ma’am,” he said with respect glowing in
his eyes. “You can do whatever the hell you want to do to me.”

Though he searched every inch of Tearmann,
Kerreyder could not find Naamah. She had vanished—no doubt as soon as she knew
he was looking for her.

And she could hide from him for all
eternity. She might even be right behind him at that very moment—laughing,
snickering and smirking.

He spun around with a hand to the back of
his neck. Not sure if he was imagining it or not but he’d felt a warm breath of
air crossing over his flesh.

“Why are you here?” he demanded. “What the
hell do you want?”

He hadn’t expected an answer and did not
receive one although he was sure she heard him and was biding her time.

Like a fool, he’d been led to Terra. He had
been directed straight to Tearmann where the bitches knew he would find his
Blood-mate. They had dangled the
adlets
and the Saurian in front of him
like a carrot swinging before a donkey and he had snapped at it.

They wanted the two of them to meet, to
bond. Why? What purpose was there behind giving him now that for which he’d
spent centuries longing? There was evil afoot but he could not see it. One
thing he did know, though. Whatever was happening here involved the Nightwind.

His mother’s words came back to him. “
It
is important to us he survive.”

“Survive,” he said as he stopped at a bank
of elevators and raked a hand roughly through his hair. “If he’d been left
alone with McKenzi, if I had not Joined with her, the incubus would have become
entirely mortal again and could have been slain.” He looked up at the ceiling. “But
you didn’t want him to die. Why is he important to you, Mother?”

And what part did Hades’ Key play in the
mix?

He waited impatiently for the cage to open.
Though he could easily have transported himself to his destination he wanted
the time to mull over what he knew about the infamous keys and the powers they
held.

The gates of hell were mentioned in
mythology, in the Christian bible and in the Qur’an. They were alluded to in
many religions and cults and in nearly every instance mention of a key or keys was
made.

The Qur’an speaks of the seven gates of
hell, each for a different class of sins.

In the Christian bible, Jesus Christ
descended into hell to prove his dominion over death and evil, to destroy the
power of Satan. He delved into his memory to pull from it the direct quote from
Revelation 1:18.
“Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one;
I died, and behold I am alive for evermore,
and I have the keys of
Death and Hades
.”

In mythology, Hades—the god of the
Underworld—ensured those residing in hell did not leave or that unwanted
visitors did not enter his kingdom uninvited nor could they depart without his
permission. Thus, he charged the three-headed demon-dog Cerberus with guarding
the keys that kept the gates of the Underworld locked.

“You want the key to unlock those gates,”
he said as the elevator doors pinged and then slid open. He stepped inside. “And
that key or keys are in the cemetery in Milton on a tombstone.”

He frowned. It was a strange place to hide
something so vitally important to the god of the Underworld but a place where
Hades would be unlikely to look, he assumed.

His mother and her co-conspirators had set
things into motion to gain Hades’ Keys. Manipulating the Saurian and the adlets
had been the major part of their plan. They knew he would go after the
adlets
and send the Nightwind and Reaper after the Saurian whore. The four of them
would be at opposite ends of the continent from one another. Tuatara would
locate the key but…

“She couldn’t retrieve it,” he said, a
light going on in his fertile mind. “But the incubus can.” He punched the
button for the ground floor. “Why is that?”

He thought about it for a moment then
nodded slowly as understanding came.

Because he is a demon and the Saurian isn’t,
he reasoned. The keys are guarded by a portal demon only the incubus can
command and control—a demon set in place by Hecate, goddess of the frontier
between life and death and those shades and evil creatures that move across
that frontier. The protectress of the portal. Hecate who holds dominion over
realms outside or beyond the world of the living. She would mediate between the
mortal and divine. The goddess who was often sculpted sitting with her hound,
holding a pair of torches, a set of keys and a dagger.

“Cerberus guards the gates of Hades,” he
mumbled to himself. “There is no need for keys to lock them. Jesus Christ holds
the keys to the Christian hell. Those keys would not be hidden here on Terra.
There is no mention of keys being needed to lock the seven gates of hell in the
Qur’an.”

Why would his mother and her sisters in
magic need the keys to a place that was of no real importance except to the god
who ruled it? Why would Persephone send her minister Hecate to hide the key in
the first place? Spite? Anger? Vengeance? None of that made sense.

“If Hades’ Key is not to hell itself then
to what does it…?”

Understanding hit him like a bolt of
lightning and he staggered, slamming back against the cage wall.

Hecate, goddess of the frontier between
life and death and those shades and evil creatures that move across that
frontier. The protectress of the portal.

“Merciful gods, no,” he whispered, eyes
wide.

As the elevator doors shushed open
Kerreyder all but ran down the corridor to the Supervisor’s office. Not
bothering to knock, he barged into the inner sanctum of the Ridge Lord,
flinging the door wide.

“Where is the incubus?” he demanded.

“On his way to the Raven,” the Supervisor
said then shook his head. “To the jet.”

“Is the Reaper with him?”

“Aye,” the Supervisor replied. “What’s
wrong?”

“You need to send as many men as you have
with the demon.
Now
, Alexandru!”

“Tell me why,” the Supervisor ordered.

“Hecate hid Hades’ Key in that cemetery
where the Nightwind found the Saurian.”

The Ridge Lord tossed out a hand in
irritation. “Aye, I was told—”

“The key is hidden somewhere on a tombstone
in that pissant town. We need the demon to find those keys and protect them,
keep my mother and her sisters from taking them from him at all costs.”

“What will your mother do? Open the gates
to hell and let loose the inhabitants?” the Supervisor challenged.

“The key isn’t to the gates of hell,”
Kerreyder replied. He clenched his fists, dug his fingernails into his palms to
keep from screaming. “I believe the key is to the Charvaal portion of the
Abyss. They intend to throw wide the Gate of
Caighean
.”

The Supervisor’s face turned deathly white.
“And that means…”

“The Nikkeson will be set free with no
place to send it back to, to contain it even if every Ridge Lord in the
Megaverse is sent after it!”

* * * * *

The Nightwind had just taken his seat in
the jet when the flight attendant came hurrying toward him with a vid-pad.

“The Supervisor, milord,” she said,
thrusting the vid-pad at him. “He says it is urgent.”

Randon took the vid-pad and looked down at
the Supervisor’s strained face.

“What do you know of Charvaal?” the Ridge
Lord demanded.

“The bottomless pit?” Randon asked. “Isn’t
that where the Nikkeson is imprisoned?” He glanced at a chopper that was
landing close to the jet then turned back to the screen.

“The key you are going after is to the Gate
of
Caighean
,” the Supervisor said. “Kerreyder is going with you.”

“What the hell did he say?” Darkyn Sorn
asked, getting up from his seat to stand over Randon.

“The goddess Hecate must have hidden it in
a place she never imagined anyone would find it,” the Supervisor said. “How the
succubae found out its whereabouts is anyone’s guess but we can’t let them get
their hands on it.”

“If the Gate of
Caighean
is opened,
the Nikkeson can escape,” Sorn whispered, his voice shaky.

“You think?” Randon snarled. His heart was
thundering in his chest at the thought of the greatest evil known to mankind
being set loose to annihilate all life in the Megaverse.

“You
must
get to that key and keep
Naamah from taking it from you. She must
not
get hold of it, Kayle!” the
Supervisor stated.

“What if she gets there before me?” Randon
asked.

“Kerreyder believes Hecate set in place a
spell to guard the tombstone. Perhaps it is part of the tombstone. She would
not have trusted the succubae because she knows how brutally they despise
humankind. No woman could gain possession of the key. It would have to be a
male, and a male demon at that.”

“Makes sense,” Sorn agreed. “Either you or
Kerreyder can take possession of the key.”

“The archdemon doesn’t think he can. As a
son of a succubus, he would not be trusted either,” the Supervisor told them. “Only
you can take the key.”

“And I don’t even know what I’m looking
for,” Randon said.

“My guess is there will be yew trees around
the tombstone,” Kerreyder said as he came walking toward them down the aisle. “There
will be torches, dogs perhaps. Three if my theory is correct.”

“Yew trees are sacred to Hecate,” Sorn
said.

“And they are abundant in Florida,” the
Supervisor put in. “There is something I’m sending to you. Something you are
going to need. Cree will fill you in on what it is.”

When the Supervisor terminated the
transmission, men began filing onto the plane—Viraiden Cree and another man
Sorn obviously didn’t like as he caught sight of the man in black among them
for the Panthera Reaper growled low in his throat.

“Is that the new Alpha at the Exchange?”
Randon asked.

“Aye,” Sorn said with a grunt. “The bastard’s
name is Dixon Coulter. He took Taylor Reynaud’s assignment.” He gave the man in
question a hard look and didn’t greet him.

“Hello to you too Sorn, and before you ask
what the fuck I am doing here,” Coulter said as he strode past Sorn, “I’m from
Milton. Born and raised there.”

“You shitting me?” Randon asked, twisting
around in his seat to look up at the man he sensed was more than a Reaper. “That
can’t be a coincidence.”

“I shit you not and I don’t think so
either. By the way, I’m the Gravelord,” Coulter told him.

“Oh,” Randon said with a furrowing of the
brow. “What the fuck is that?”

“I’ll explain later,” Coulter told him.

“Like it matters what you are,” Sorn
muttered.

“Sorn, I’m not your problem,” Coulter
snapped, “but, son, if you want me to be I can sure as fuck oblige.”

“Enough,” Cree said as he pushed past
Coulter and dropped into a seat, placing a long wooden box on the seat next to
his. “Sorn, keep your comments to yourself.” He dragged the seat belt across
him. “Coulter, sit your ass down and pretend you’re one of the boys instead of
thinking you’re the big dog on this plane.” He leveled a red-tinged amber glare
at the Gravelord. “You ain’t and if you’d like me to prove it to you, I sure as
fuck will.”

“Huh,” Randon said with a grin. Though he
disliked all Reapers, he admired Viraiden Cree’s attitude. The wolf knew he was
a badass and had the stones to prove it.

“I could take you,” he heard Coulter
mumble.

“Keep thinking that and one day we’ll just
have to test your idiotic theory,” Cree replied.

“Milords,” the flight attendant said, “we
are about to begin taxiing. Please take your seats and buckle in. Capt. Jonas
said to tell you we might be in for some bad weather on the way down. There’s a
tropical depression along the Gulf Coast.”

“Wonderful,” Randon said with a grimace.

* * * * *

Naamah walked unseen behind Kenzi, raking
the human with eyes that were so fired with fury they should have incinerated
the bitch. She could not remember ever hating anything—living or dead—more than
she did the woman in front of her. Her claws itched to shred the flesh from the
woman’s body and her fangs throbbed with the need to drain every last drop of
blood from her.

Bide your time, sister,
Lilith whispered to her
. We need her for a while longer.

Stopping a mere six inches from her target,
Naamah did not enter the medical room when Kenzi did. Instead she pivoted on
her heel and sank through the floors all the way to the lowest level. Unseen,
undetected, she flowed through the wall of the Saurian’s cell then
materialized.

“You!” Tuatara shrieked, climbing onto her
bunk and pressing herself tightly to the wall. Her bare feet dug into the
mattress as she tried to meld her body into the wall to get away from the
incubus. “Please, Your Grace, don’t kill me!”

“I have no intention of killing you,
lizard,” Naamah said. “You did what I wanted you to do and you are right where
I need you to be.”

Tuatara’s scaly face puckered with
confusion. “I am?”

“Sit down,” Naamah ordered. “I’ve no desire
to break my neck staring up at your butt-ugly visage.”

Carefully Tuatara eased to a squatting
position on the mattress but she kept her back firmly against the wall. She warily
watched the incubus pacing in front of the bunk.

“When we discovered the whereabouts of
Kerreyder’s Blood-mate, we were overjoyed to find she was near one of the
warriors my sister Lilith had turned into one of her disgusting Nightwinds.
That was like catching two birds with one stone.”

Tuatara blinked at the statement. No one
had ever said Naamah was the brightest cathode in the vid-com.

“Then when we found out Hades’ Key was here
on Terra…” Naamah sighed heavily. “The pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into
place.”

“How did you d-discover the whereabouts of
the key?” Tuatara asked.