The Nightwind's Woman (19 page)

“The disgraced Nightwind Syntian Cree was
good enough to tell us. He saw it on a stroll through the cemetery in that
dismal little town in which his witch lives,” Naamah said. “When we release the
Nikkeson, we have agreed to release him as well. He will extract his
treacherous female and take her from Terra. I have agreed to allow him to live
out eternity in Tine with me.”

Tuatara’s elliptical pupils dilated to
pinpoints. “The key is to the Abyss?” she asked, her voice a mere squeak. “To
the Gate of
Caighean
?”

Naamah stopped pacing and pinned the
Saurian with a hard glare. “That’s right,” she said with a tsk. “You are living
matter.” She grinned. “Oops.”

“The Nikkeson will destroy all life in the
Megaverse!” Tuatara said, beginning to tremble.

“All save that which we take to Treigeilys
with us,” Naamah told her. She sidled closer to the bunk. “Would you like to be
one of those, Saurian?”

“Aye, Your Grace!” Tuatara said. She put a
hand out in pleading. “I beseech you, please take me with you!”

Naamah put the long vermillion-tipped nail
of her index finger against her fang and tapped, her head tilted to one side as
she surveyed the creature hunkered down on the bunk. “I will think about it.”

“Please!” Tuatara crawled forward on her
knees, lowered her head with her right fist doubled over one of her two hearts.
“I will do anything you ask. Anything!”

Naamah was silent for a moment then said, “That’s
good to know for I’ve got a little job for you.”

* * * * *

Kenzi patted the
chepi
on the
shoulder and thanked the spirit informant for his help. He had given her a vast
amount of knowledge while she had slept the evening before. It was the purpose
of the
chepi
to provide information and wisdom to medicine people—usually
during trances—and his help was much appreciated.

“I should be able to cure the Lovelandfrog
of his red leg disease,” she said. “Thank you, Byrl.”

“My pleasure, healer. Please call upon me
whenever you need my assistance. I will await your next request,” the
chepi
replied with a bow then left her office.

Kenzi stood there for a moment then took a
deep breath. She needed it before going into the operatory next door to consult
with the Loveland frog. A five-feet-tall man-like creature with leathery webbed
hands and feet and the head of a large frog. His appearance wasn’t frightening
but rather unsettling. It didn’t help that he gave off a musky odor that made
her eyes water and when he spoke, he slurped his words around a two-foot-long
bright-blue tongue.

“Knock-knock.”

Kenzi turned to find Dr. Alyn Matheny
lounging against her doorjamb with his heavily muscled arms folded over a wide
chest. His broad shoulders all but filled the opening. Topping out at well over
six feet, he was known around Tearmann as Dr. Hot-As-Sin. With his thick black
hair, startling blue eyes and thousand-watt sparkling white smile, he set many
hearts to fluttering. He was the Primary Physician at the facility.

“Busy?” he inquired.

“I’ve a patient next door but it can wait a
minute. What’s up?” she replied.

“I’m having a spot of trouble with the
muireartach
.
The old bat heard we have a female healer and she has decreed I am no longer
worthy to treat her gout. She wants to see you.”

“What kind of creature is she?”

“Ugly as hell is what she is,” Alyn said
with a snort. “She is the Pictish Mother of the Western Storms—better known as
a sea-hag. She’s bald-headed, has jagged teeth, blue-gray skin and one enormous
eye in the center of her forehead—an eye that waters constantly. She’s not real
keen on the male of the species.” He cocked one of his massive shoulders. “Brunst’s
not particularly malevolent but she can be a handful.” He smiled hopefully. “Would
you be a dear and take a look at her for me?”

“If she can wait until after I talk to the
Loveland frog,” she answered. “I can see her while I’m waiting for the salve to
work on him.”

“Red leg?” he inquired.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell her, but be
warned. She won’t like playing second fiddle to an amphibian and a male amphibian
at that.”

“So don’t tell her,” Kenzi said with a
grin.

“Oh, she’ll know. She’s telepathic,” he
said with a sigh.

“Then please extend my apologies and tell
her I’ll be with her shortly.”

He smiled. “Thank you, sweeting.”

That said, he turned and left her,
whistling an Enya song as he went.

“Gorgeous, gorgeous man,” she said with a
groan.

The rest of Kenzi’s day was spent seeing patient
after patient—each more fantastical than the last. She made a few friends and
one enemy—naturally it had to be a
brownie
—from among her charges. It
hadn’t helped matters in trying to break the ice with a new patient when she
asked the
brownie
if she had any Thin Mints on her.

“Hardy-har-har,” the
brownie
had
sneered. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

It went downhill from there so by the time
she sat in her office dictating the day’s records, she was bug-eyed with
weariness, her shoulders ached and her head was aching. Listening to her
stomach rumble, she realized she hadn’t even stopped for lunch. Thankfully she’d
had a large breakfast but now she knew why her head was hurting.

“Are you a stickler for punishment,
sweeting?”

That sexy voice brought up her head. Twice
in one day Dr. Hunkasaurus was standing in her doorway. This time he was sans
his lab coat and what he was wearing made her sit up and take immediate notice.

Tight, well-worn jeans clung to his lean
hips and thighs like a second skin. There was a designer hole just above the
right knee that drew her attention to the bright white sneakers encasing his
rather large feet. Moving her attention up his tall frame, the red T-shirt
tucked into his jeans stretched across that broad chest and those wide
shoulders so lovingly she could have sworn the material was alive and was eagerly
caressing him. The hard thrust of his pecs and the very prominent press of his
nipples against the shirt made her mouth water.

Too bad you’re taken
, her conscience growled at her.

“Can you come up for air and get a bite to
eat with me before slinking back here to continue the grind?” he inquired.

“I shouldn’t,” she said.

He chuckled. “Woman, if I only did what I
should, I’d be the most depressed man in the Megaverse.” He jerked his head
toward the hall. “Come on. You gotta eat, Kenzi.”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“I’m keeping tabs on you, of course,” he
replied. His blue eyes turned darker and he swept them over her like silk
sheets settling on a bed. “I do that with ladies I find irresistible.”

“I belong—”

“To the archdemon and the Nightwind,” he
said then shrugged. “Not a problem for me unless it’s a problem for them.” His
devastating lips crooked upward on one side and he looked at her from beneath
his long, dark lashes. “Problem for you?”

There would have been a time she’d have
flung herself on him and squirmed like a fish out of water and that was exactly
what she wanted to do. Trouble was, she didn’t think Kerreyder would have a
problem with it but Randon sure as hell would.

“Yes to the meal,” she said, scooting back
her chair. “No to anything else.”

His eyebrows shot up. Obviously he was not
accustomed to being turned down. “Your loss,” he said.

“I imagine it is,” she said as she came
around the desk.

He stepped back to allow her to leave the
office, pull the door shut behind her.

“It’s Greek night in the cafeteria,” he
said. “Hope you like moussaka.”

“I love it.”

She fell into step beside him—feeling
intimidated by his overpowering masculinity—and glanced up now and again just
to see his chiseled jaw, mop of thick hair and the deliciously deep cleft in
his strong chin. She sighed. There were far too many distractions at Tearmann.

Then she saw a
saleerandees
mincing
toward them down the hall and rethought her definition of distraction. The scaly
fairy who resembled a bipedal lizard hissed at her as he passed, dipped his
triangular head and snapped his long tail on the floor as he dragged it behind
him. It was his normal form of saying a cheerful hello and not intended to
frighten her or warn her off.

“Getting used to them?” Alyn inquired with
a grin.

“The trustees, yes, but those in lockdown?”
She shook her head. “That’s taking some getting used to. I had to lance a boil
on the rump of a
nuckelavee
today.” She shuddered. “What came out was
purple and smelled like dead fish then oozed for a couple of days.”

“Yeah, those things are among the grossest
creatures we have,” he said. “I tossed my lunch the first time I had to work on
one. The fact it has no skin—just powerful red muscles—and you have to get up
close and personal with those yellow veins pumping black blood through them?
The smell of them? Yuck.”

“And what’s with that oversized cranium
wobbling around on its neck like a bobble head doll?” she asked. “And arms
dragging the ground? How does it keep its balance?”

“Heck if I know. It’s a beast only a mother
nuckelavee
could love,” he responded. “My last patient was a
huldrafolk
.”
At her quizzical look he explained the creature was an elf with a particularly
nasty personality. “How ’bout you? What glorious anomalies did you see during
clinic?”

“It was my day for treating faeries,” she
said.

They reached the cafeteria and were glad to
see the line wasn’t that long. There were several tables available so they
settled behind two ITs, shuffling along to the music of U2 wafting out of the
wall speakers.

Kenzi looked up at him, hesitated then bit
her lip.

“You want to know how I know about the two
men in your life,” he said, glancing down at her. He shrugged. “Tearmann is a
huge facility but word spreads like wildfire. Medical personnel are among the
biggest gossips in any environment. You should know that.”

“It’s just that my personal life is—”

“Not personal around here, sweeting,” he
stated. “What one knows, we all know.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Yours is
a unique situation but no one is judging you for the arrangement. You’d be
surprised at the amount of personnel who are carrying on relationships with the
trustees.
Multiple
relationships.” He lowered his voice. “Now
interspecies affairs should be verboten but they aren’t. No one judges and no
one condemns.”

“The Consortium has no problem with it?”

“If they did, trust me, we’d know,” he
said. “So…” He looked across the room.

“So?”

He returned his gaze to her. “If you would
like to go out with anyone other than the ’Wind and the archdemon, feel free to
do so.”

“And you think Randon Kayle would be all
right with that?” one of the ITs in front of them inquired without looking
around. “Dream on, Doc.”

“Can’t kill a guy for trying, Reeves,” Alyn
quipped.

“I can’t but Kayle can,” the IT replied
with a snort.

“And would,” the other IT said then both
computer nerds chuckled.

Kenzi groaned inwardly. Her private life
was open fodder for the entire facility it seemed. She could feel her cheeks
burning and wished the floor would open up to swallow her.

“Don’t let it bother you. It is what it is,”
Alyn said. “But if you ever decide to dump those two guys…”

Kenzi nodded, wanting to put an end to the
conversation.

* * * * *

Naamah sat perched on a nearby table,
listening to what was being said. She could see the discomfort on the human
woman’s face and recognized shame when she saw it. The bitch wasn’t happy about
being the plaything of two men.

Not that she had a choice in the matter.
Destiny had made her mate to an archdemon. Being born to the family she had
made her mate to the incubus. Neither of those things could or would change and
now that she was immortal—thanks to Kerreyder’s seed—she could not be
eliminated.

But she can be taken out of the picture
, Lilith reminded her.

Once the Nikkeson was released and the
Great Evil was directed first to Terra to begin his elimination of humankind
within the Megaverse, only the immortals and demonkind would survive the purge.
All other living matter would cease to exist. Before that happened, it was
imperative the human bitch be extracted from Terra without Kerreyder knowing
what was happening.

And hidden where neither he nor the
Nightwind would ever find her.

It was storming by the time the plane
landed on the private airstrip in Santa Rosa County. Lightning stitched across
the sky as though it came from the sewing machine of a crazed seamstress.
Thunder shook the ground with loud sonic booms. The pine trees and pin oaks to
the north of the airstrip were bending and twisting in a harsh wind that howled
as it blasted the plane.

“Tornado weather,” Coulter remarked as he
stood in the opened doorway of the plane.

“Aye,” Cree agreed. He nudged his chin
toward the black Chevy van pulling up. “Move it.”

Coulter didn’t argue. He skipped down the
plane’s gangway. As soon as he neared the van, a door opened and he ducked
inside. Cree followed him with Sorn and the Nightwind bringing up the rear.

“This weather ain’t even good for ducks and
fishes,” Sorn complained. He dusted his hands through his wet hair.

A very loud clap of thunder reverberated
over the car as the driver put the van in motion.

“I don’t think we’ll be going to the
cemetery today,” Coulter said as he ran his palm over the fogged window beside
him.

“You afraid you’ll melt?” Sorn sneered.

“Knock it off, Sorn,” Cree warned in a
voice that brooked no comment. “I’m getting a fucking migraine and I don’t want
to hear any shit from any of you.”

“Where are we going?” Randon inquired. “Same
place we stayed before?”

“We’re going to Syntian Cree’s house as the
guests of Lauren Fowler,” Cree replied.

“You’re joking,” Coulter said.

“Reapers don’t joke,” Cree grumbled. “She’s
been made aware of the danger this world—hell
all
the worlds—are in and
she’s offered her help.”

“And you trust her?” Randon asked.

“Maybe we shouldn’t take the incubus out
there,” Coulter said. “She’s not real fond of Nightwinds.”

“She knows he’ll be with us and that he’s
the key to extracting Hades’ Key from the tombstone. She vowed not to mess with
him,” Cree told them.

“I fucking hate witches,” Randon mumbled.

“My life-mate is a witch,” Sorn reminded
him.

“Your problem, pussy boy,” the Nightwind
said. “Not mine.”

The men all looked to the Alpha
Reaper—expecting him to call a stop to the insults—but Cree was rubbing tight
circles over his right eye and his face was pinched. Signs of the brutal
migraine pounding between his temples.

“He’s hurting,” Sorn whispered to Randon.

“Aye, so don’t do anything to make the pain
worse,” the incubus stated.

* * * * *

Lauren Fowler stood at the window watching
the lightning zig-zagging across the firmament. Storms used to terrify her.
Now, nothing did. She had conquered every fear she’d ever had.

Except the fear of loneliness. That was
going to stay with her for as long as the being she loved was lost to her. It
still hurt that she had been forced to send him back to the Abyss but he had
committed coldblooded murders she could neither overlook nor dismiss. He had to
be punished. She would love him until the day she died and one day she would
call him back to her.

Unfortunately he had found a way to possibly
escape her punishment and though the thought of him fleeing the Abyss upset
her, it did not frighten her.

Not like it did her consort. She turned her
head to look at the Nightwind who had taken Syntian’s place in her life and in
her bed. Though he looked like her old friend Ben Hulbert, he was all demon and
easy to control.

“What worries you, my love?” he asked as he
joined her at the window. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back
against his chest, putting his chin on her shoulder, his cheek to hers.

“What if the succubae gain the key?” she
asked. “If they do it will not be only the worlds they help destroy. He will
get loose.”

“And come for you,” her lover said. He
sighed. “And me.” His embrace tightened. “Especially me.”

“I will protect you, Jaleel,” she said.
When they were in private she used his demon name and he wore his demonic face
but in public he was the spitting image of the former sheriff of Santa Rosa
County, the late and lamented Ben Hulbert. Hulbert was the biological father of
her child who was in boarding school in France—his sperm stolen from him by
Syntian Cree while in succubus form.

“What of this other Nightwind?” he asked. “The
one coming with the Reaper?” He said the word Reaper as though it was a bitter taste
in his mouth.

“No threat to either you or me. He is
life-mated.” She laughed softly. “A woman who has an archdemon for a
Blood-mate.”

“Has he made her immortal?” Jaleel asked.

“I scried her and yes, once she accepted
his seed she became immortal.”

“As I wish you were,” he said with a sigh.

“I have no desire to be,” she said. “I
prefer my life be finite.”

Headlights shone at the end of the
serpentine oystershell driveway.

“They’re here,” she said. “There is no need
for you to pretend to be anything other than what you truly are. Each of the
men who will be staying with us are not entirely human.”

“I sense something that disturbs me,”
Jaleel said. “There is one among those coming who is a being I have never
encountered before.”

“That would be Dixon Coulter,” she said. “He
is a Shadowlord. I have known of him for years. I have never sensed him to be a
threat but now he has come into his full powers and is something more than a
mere Shadowlord. He calls himself a Gravelord. Also, he was given a Reaper
hellion and that makes it necessary to watch him very closely.”

“I will do so,” Jaleel said, releasing her.
“If he poses a threat to you—”

“He does not,” she said. “When I say watch
him closely, watch for his powers. I need to know just how potent they are, how
much danger he poses to humans.”

None, milady
,
came a soft whisper in her head.
I am here to protect.

“Are you now?” she asked aloud, knowing
Jaleel had heard the Gravelord’s words.

Fetch your book and I will swear upon it
, he told her.

“Bring me my Book of Shadows,” Lauren
ordered her lover. “He offered and I will accept an oath made in that fashion.”

Thank you, milady
.

“Don’t think me yet, Gravelord,” she
replied. “If you prove false, I can send you to visit an old friend of mine in
the Primal Ooze.”

Soft laughter echoed through her mind and
she smiled. She’d observed Dixon Coulter even when he’d been a young boy. She’d
been aware of his budding talents and had helped to see him placed with the
right foster parents who would encourage and mold him into a good man who did
not abuse the gods-given powers he’d inherited. He had grown powerful since
ascending to his full uniqueness but she was willing to bet he was on the side
of good.

Jaleel went to the front door as the van
pulled up to the house and stopped. He opened the portal and stood back as the
back door of the van opened and two men came vaulting up the steps onto the
veranda. “Bad day to be traveling,” he said to the first man. He swept his hand
behind him. “Enter and be at peace.”

Lauren saw Viraiden Cree nod curtly. It was
clear to her he had as much liking for Nightwinds as they did for Reapers. He
looked down, hesitated only a moment before stepping over the bright-blue
threshold placed there to keep out unwanted demons. She held out her hand as he
entered her home.

“Lord Cree,” she said. “Welcome to my home.
Enter and be at peace.”

The Reaper took her hand in his and brought
it to his lips in a courtly manner. “Milady,” he greeted her. “Thank you for
your invitation.”

“It is my pleasure to help you.” She looked
past him to the second man, also a Reaper. “Lord Sorn. Please enter and be at
peace.”

Darkyn Sorn stepped forward to accept her
hand and—not to be outdone in the chivalry department—placed his own kiss upon
her hand. “A pleasure, milady,” he said.

Dixon Coulter entered next and also took
her hand but he shook it with the firm assurance of a man unquestioning of his
welcome. He smiled at her in a way that made her laugh.

“I owe you a great debt, milady,” he said. “And
I didn’t realize that until today.”

“It was an honor to help you,” she told
him. “I didn’t have a great childhood either.”

“You made what was left of mine bearable
and for that I thank you,” he said. “Any time I may be of service to you, all
you need do is ask.”

“I will keep that in mind, Dixon,” she said
congenially then eased her hand from his. “Enter my home and be at peace.” She
looked past him and let the smile leave her face.

He was standing on the porch with his hands
shoved into the pockets of his black jeans. Hair wet and curling low over his
forehead, his amber eyes wary and holding just a touch of fear, his shoulders were
hunched in a way that announced his expectation of being mistreated.

“Will you not join us, Lord Kayle?” she
asked as the van pulled away from the house.

“Need I worry you will trap me therein,
milady?” he asked, his voice husky.

“You do not,” she replied.

“Or that you will send me to the Abyss?” he
countered.

“The only way I can do that is if you sign
my Book of Shadows and I seriously doubt you will,” she answered.

He shook his head. “Nay, milady, I would
not.”

“Then feel free to enter my home and be at
peace, Randon Kayle. I mean you no harm. It will be at your hand that Syntian
Cree is kept where he belongs for now. I have no quarrel with you.”

His eyes slid past her to the other
Nightwind.

“Nor does Prince Jaleel Jaborn,” she
amended.

He stood there for a moment longer then
stepped over the threshold.

Lauren did not offer to shake his hand. Instead
she turned her back on him and spoke to the others. “It will be dark soon,” she
told them. “I assume—weather permitting—you will set out at first light to
visit the cemetery.” She indicated they were to precede her into the living
room.

“Rain or shine,” Cree said. “It is
imperative we find the key and secure it.”

With Randon lagging behind, the others
filed into the living room and took seats at Lauren’s invitation. She ignored
him as he stood in the archway between the foyer and the living room.

“It is my understanding no one can withdraw
the key from the tombstone save the incubus,” Lauren said, looking from Cree to
Coulter.

“That’s what we believe,” Cree
acknowledged.

“And you fear the succubae will send a
force against you to steal it as soon as he does.”

“Yes,” Coulter answered.

“I believe I can be of help to you, then,”
she said. “I can cast a circle around the cemetery’s perimeter. It won’t keep
the succubae out but it will slow her down and prevent any other demons from
entering the hallowed ground. How do you plan on securing the key?”

“We brought with us a tabernacle that was blessed
by three priests,” Cree replied. “Anglican, Roman Catholic and Eastern
Orthodox. It was locked with the wax from an Advent candle blessed by the Pope
and will remain locked until just before Kayle removes the key. Inside the
tabernacle are holy objects from four other religious groups.”

“Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism,”
Coulter stated. “Cree will break the seal and open the tabernacle. The moment
Rand retrieves the key, he will place it into the tabernacle.”

“The container will then be sealed with
more wax from the Advent candle that is in a small tin already inside the
tabernacle,” Cree concluded.

“That’s my job,” Kerreyder said. “As soon
as Aiden opens the tabernacle, I’ll take out the tin and heat it in my hand.”
He wriggled his fingers. “Helps to be pyrokinetic.”

“Where is this tabernacle now?” she asked.

“We were instructed not to bring it into
your home since you are a Wiccan,” Cree replied. “We left it in the care of our
driver, a young priest from the Archdiocese of Mobile.”

“You are taking no chances,” Lauren said.

“Not with what’s at stake,” Cree replied.
The religious blessings and holy objects can be considered precautions.”

“That is all well and good,” Jaleel said,
“but you are forgetting one important point.” When everyone was looking at him,
he leveled his gaze on Randon. “The succubae do not fear the gods of those
pantheons. The only god they fear is Jee Yn Ayr, the Father-God. Do you have a relic
from Him?”

“No, but they have his son.”

Those assembled snapped their heads toward
the voice that spoke quietly from a dark corner of the room. Kerreyder walked
slowly into the light, his eyes glowing.

* * * * *

Tired and soul-content from the excellent
meal she’d shared with Alyn and a couple of med techs who’d joined them at
their table, Kenzi yawned as she entered the elevator. She wanted nothing more
than to take a leisurely soak in her big marble tub with a glass of chilled
plum wine and listen to a David Arkenstone CD to unwind. As the panels closed,
her gaze went to the door that opened onto the stairwell. She reached up to
touch the key card that hung from a lanyard around her neck. For some reason,
knowing the key card was there eased some passing disquiet that nudged her as
she looked at the door. Randon’s words from her first day at Tearmann came back
to her.

“Each stairwell has a weapons case,”
he’d said
, “to go along with the fire extinguishers. Those are
heavy duty tranqs. Each gun holds forty hits of pairilis. The doses in these
guns are Class Four. They would stop a rampaging elephant in mid-run in less
than a second. They will stop one of the non-humans found here in two.”

She hoped she never had to use the key card
to open a case in order to take out one of the guns but knowing they were there
reassured her. There were times after she’d seen some of the more violent, vile
creatures in lockdown that she wished she had one of the guns with her in her
suite. So far, none of the prisoners had threatened her but she’d been warned
that would eventually happen.