The Nightwind's Woman (24 page)

“Give me the tabernacle and once it is safely
in the hands of the religious, I will return. Then he can vow to do whatever it
is you desire for him to do,” Coulter told the archdemon.

“No,” Naamah said. “He must come to me
before—”

“So you can take the tabernacle as well as
him? I think not, you conniving bitch!” the Father-God thundered. “Give me
reason to turn you to ash. Not even My brother can stop Me from rendering you
so!”

Naamah’s pretty face turned pale.

“Hand the box to the Gravelord, Kerreyder,”
Jee Yn Ayr said, ignoring the serpentine hiss of Raphian. “When the key is in
the Holy Land and Lord Coulter returns—”

“You’ll let McKenzi go?” Kerreyder asked,
his attention riveted on Naamah.

“I have said as much,” she snapped.

“Let us hear you swear it!” the Father-God
demanded. “You will say it before Me!”

“If he turns himself over to me, I will
free the girl,” Naamah grumbled. “I so vow.”

“And rid her belly of the evil residing
therein!” Jee Yn Ayr pressed.

The succubus voiced a raspberry and waved a
dismissive hand. “I swear I will abort the thing growing within her.”

Randon hung his head and only Sorn heard
the sob that came from his throat.

“Do it now,” the god decreed.

“How do I know You will not—”

“Unlike you, I do not lie. Abort the
cambion, send the
mazikeen
back to wherever he resides and wipe clean
the mind of my son’s Blood-mate. Erase any memory of what was done to her by
the
mazikeen
. When it is done, we may proceed.”

Naamah rolled her eyes, waved a hand then
smirked at Kerreyder. “There. It is done. Now
you
come with me!”

Kerreyder held the tabernacle out to
Coulter. “Be careful,” he said, casting a look to Raphian. He staggered against
the wind, which was still pummeling them.

“You too,” Coulter said. “I am sorry this
has happened but know your lady will have the protection of every man here.”

“Reaper and Nightwind alike,” Cree pledged.

“And every witch,” Lauren put in.

Kerreyder nodded and released his hold on
the tabernacle. As he stared into Coulter’s face, the Gravelord vanished. There
was a wild shriek—a bone-chilling hiss from the Destroyer of Men’s Souls—then
the wind ceased as Raphian withdrew his long viper’s neck and was sucked back
up into the heavens. The lightning ended. The sky overhead began to lighten. The
smell of sulfur drifted away.

“Come, Kerreyder,” Naamah ordered.

“He goes nowhere until the Gravelord
returns,” Jee Yn Ayr snapped, the rays surrounding Him brightening until no one
could look in that direction.

Naamah did not like it but she kept silent,
tapping her foot on the ground with agitation.

For nearly twenty minutes the seven figures
stood before the crypt of Helena Papandrea as sunlight once more glinted
against the copper door panel. The Father-God hovered silently in the Eastern
sky.

Kerreyder looked at the heavens and was
puzzled why he still felt the presence of the silent watchers who had been
privy to what had taken place in the cemetery. Idly, he wondered what they were
waiting for but it didn’t really matter. His life was at an end—all chance of
happiness gone. When Coulter materialized in front of him, he barely noticed.

“It is done?” Jee Yn Ayr asked.

“It is, Your Worship,” Coulter replied. “The
tabernacle is safe and in a place no evil can ever touch it.”

“Good,” the Father-God said. He suddenly
formed in their midst and Kerreyder, Randon and the Reapers dropped to their
knees in homage. Even Lauren knelt before the god, jerking on the hand of her
lover to force Jaleel to the ground as well. Only Naamah remained standing. Jee
Yn Ayr leveled His fiery gaze on her. “You do not kneel, woman?”

She lifted her chin. “You have no authority
over me,” she boasted.

“Have I not?” the god asked, His lips
stretching into a slow, malevolent smile.

“Nay,” she said then took a step back. Even
a blind man could have seen she intended to flee but when she tried, when she
turned to vanish, she could not. Her eyes wide, she whipped her head around to
stare openmouthed at the Father-God. “What have you done?”

“I did not give you permission to leave my
presence,” He said ominously.

“I don’t need your permission!” she said,
trying in vain to lift her feet.

“Oh, but you do,” He replied, folding His
arms over his chest.

“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice
was a mere squeak of sound as she began to realize there was no help coming for
her.

“You laughed at and insulted My Lady-wife,”
Jee Yn Ayr replied. “Only I am allowed to insult the Triune.”

Naamah struggled, her black gown swishing side
to side as she tried to break free of the hold He had on her. Her head bobbed
up and down as she looked to the ground then back to the Father-God, to the
ground then back to Him.

“My sisters will help me,” she said. “Eisheth
will—”

“Will what?” He asked, cutting her off. “Hold
her breath until she turns blue?” He laughed. “She’s done that many a time and
it had no effect on Me or on what I eventually did. Do you truly think you
would be any different?”

“Lilith! Agrat!” she shrieked and when
neither sister appeared, she choked back a gasp of fear. She tried once more. “Eisheth!”

“Try calling for Raphian,” the Father-God
suggested. “Mayhap he will turn around and come back to aid you although you
have nothing to offer him now that the key is out of his reach.”

Naamah’s face puckered into fury. “Release
me!” she ordered.

“When you make one final vow or two,” Jee
Yn Ayr told her.

Randon was watching the scene before him
with pounding heart. Kerreyder stood only a few feet away with a look on his
face that was akin to awe as he watched the god who had sired him do battle
with Naamah.

“You are directly responsible for the rape
of My son’s Blood-mate,” the Father-God accused. “For that, there must be an
accounting.”

“Kerreyder belongs to me!” Naamah said
though it was obvious she was beginning to see the phantom writing on the wall
for her voice was not as firm as it had been.

“He has a mate to whom he is sworn and he
will return to that mate as he can,” Jee Yn Ayr told her. “He belongs to the
woman to whom you did grievous harm. That I cannot nor will not overlook. You
will
atone for your sin, Naamah!”

The Father-God waved His hand and Naamah’s
beautiful body begin to change. From the soles of her feet, her flesh began to
thicken and enlarge, to become striated with deep lines that slowly crept up
her shapely legs.

“What are you doing?” she screamed, bent
over at the waist as she stared in horror at the transformation.

“You like wood so well,” Jee Yn Ayr said. “You
like it in you? You like the taste of good hard wood? Mayhap you will like it
even more when you are completely encased within it!”

Inch by horrifying inch the thick, scaly, deeply
grooved bark of a lowly scrub oak crept up Naamah’s body. She pushed at the
encroaching hardness that flowed up her thighs, surrounded her hips and clamped
tightly to her waist.

“Stop!” she pleaded. “Please, Your Worship,
stop
!”

“Spread your arms wide, thief,” the
Father-God said. “Pretend you’re a tree!”

Unable to resist His command, Naamah
screamed but spread her arms wide. From them sprouted thick branches that
spiraled outward, upward and began to grow leaves.

“Please!” she begged one last time before
the bark reached her throat to squeeze away all sound. As the grooves of the
dark gray wood covered her face, her eyes widened to become two knots that
stared in horror at those who were watching her.

“Remind me not to piss Him off,” Sorn
whispered.

“Don’t piss Him off,” Cree mumbled.

When there was nothing left of Naamah’s
true body, the Father-God nodded, gave his son a long, searching look then
vanished in a mist of gold dust.

“Thank you, Your Worship,” everyone heard
Kerreyder say.

“Aye, thank you,” Randon echoed.

Coulter was the first to notice there were
no phantom eyes watching them now. He swept his gaze over the heavens but all
he encountered was the same shimmering cloudless blue sky that had greeted them
when they had set out this morning. “Severe clear,” he muttered.

“What?” Cree asked.

“Severe clear. Ceiling and visibility
unlimited,” the former SEAL said. “It’s a pilot term for a cloudless sky. I
think,” he said then cleared his throat. “I think our work is done here.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the
twin torches to either side of the crypts door puffed to life.

“Yes, our work is done,” the Gravelord
stated.

“I’d call your lady,” Lauren advised
Kerreyder. “See that she’s all right.”

He cocked a shoulder. “I would but I don’t
have a cell phone.” He looked at Coulter.

“No,” Coulter said.

The other Reapers shook their heads. There
was no need for cell phones when they could
call
with their minds.

Every eye turned to the Nightwind as he
pulled one from his pocket. He thumbed it on and was met with…

“No signal,” he mumbled.

Not in a cemetery that was warded for
protection.

“You have a cell phone?” Cree said. “Really?
Really
?”

Randon’s face turned red and he lifted his
chin. “I like to play Phrases with Pals,” he said. He shoved the phone into his
pocket. “So fucking sue me, Reaper.”

Lauren laughed—bestowing upon the Nightwind
the first real smile she’d given him—and said they could call from the van.

“The demon can read and he has pals?” Sorn
said as they started back to their vehicle. “Who knew?”

“Up yours, Sorn,” Randon snapped.

“I’ll decline the offer but thanks for
extending it,” Sorn quipped.

“You better hope he
doesn’t
extend
it.” Cree said in a dry tone.

Everyone save Randon laughed at that but
the incubus’s lips did twitch as he climbed into the van.

Kerreyder didn’t want to go. The gods knew
he didn’t but he had to get his prisoners back to Prysson and the punishment
they so justly deserved at Yn Drogh Spyrryd’s hands.

“You’ll take care of her?” he asked Randon.

“For the thousandth time, aye,” the
Nightwind replied. “Need I remind you she is my mate too?”

They were in the elevator on the way down
to the lowest level so the Warden of Prysson could collect the Saurian and the
twin
adlets,
the horny
mazikeen
plus the rebellious
adlet
pup and two other prisoners. If Kerreyder had anything to say about it—and he
did—six of the seven would be incarcerated in the lowest portion of Prysson and
none of them would ever see the light of day again.

“Does it seem peculiar at all that once we
were in the van all memory of what Naamah had done to our lady was erased from
everyone’s mind save ours?” the archdemon inquired.

“Nothing the Father-God does surprises me,”
Randon said. All memory of Naamah and what she, the Saurian and the
mazikeen
had done, had been wiped from Kenzi’s memory as well. “He was protecting his
son and his son’s Blood-mate.”

“And for that I am grateful. McKenzi must
never know of any of it.”

“She’ll not learn it from me,” Randon said.
“And I suggest you and I never speak of it again lest we say something we
shouldn’t in front of her.”

“Aye,” Kerreyder agreed.

The elevator stopped and the doors peeled
back. The two stepped from the cage and headed down the corridor.

Kerreyder had said his goodbye to Kenzi in
her room—where he had spent the night in her arms. It had been the hardest
thing he had ever done to leave those silken arms, kiss her goodbye and depart.
He couldn’t even tell her when he would be able to return but he hoped it
wouldn’t be for longer than a year or two.

“I will take care of her,” Randon stressed,
reading the archdemon’s mind.

“I know you will,” Kerreyder said. He had
formed an uneasy alliance with the Nightwind. They would never be friends but
at least they were no longer enemies in the true sense of the word.

“She’s crying,” Randon said.

“Aye, I can hear her,” Kerreyder said. “Mayhap
you should go to her. Take her mind from my leaving.” He looked meaningfully at
Randon.

Randon nodded. He hesitated then held out
his hand. “The Wind be with you, Prince Kerreyder,” he said.

The archdemon didn’t hesitate. He slapped
his hand to the Nightwind’s wrist warrior fashion and shook. “And with you,
Lord Kayle.”

Randon almost smiled then turned to go. He
was almost to the elevator when Kerreyder called out to him.

“Phrases with Pals?”

The last thing Kerreyder heard before the
incubus boarded the elevator was laughter.

* * * * *

She welcomed him into her arms. Her heart
had chosen him as its true mate and though she had deep, abiding feelings for
Kerreyder, it was Randon who made the blood race through her veins.

As it had long before she ever met him.
Back when he was but a Shadowman to her.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered against his
chest. “Please?”

“With the greatest of pleasure,” he
replied, swinging her up into his arms as though she weighed no more than a
toddler. His long legs ate up the distance between the great room of the suite
to the beautiful bed. Gently he laid her down then followed her, turning to his
side to look into her face. He swept an errant curl behind her ear and smiled.

“I love you,” she said.

“And I love you more,” he replied.

“Not possible,” she stated and when he
leaned in to kiss the tip of her nose, she lifted her mouth so it was her lips
he claimed instead. Her tongue parted his lips and took possession.

Randon growled low in his throat and moved
over her. They were both fully clothed but he took care of that small hindrance
with the flick of his wrist.

“Nifty trick,” she said as he slid his
mouth to her ear.

“A little something I learned from Sorn,”
he told her then flicked his tongue over her earlobe.

Kenzi wriggled beneath the assault. “You
two getting along better?”

He grunted. “Not likely. He’s a snotty
little kitten.”

“I met his lady. She’s nice.”

The Nightwind stiffened. “She’s a witch.”

“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. “But
a nice witch.” She kissed him on the side of the neck. “Think of her as Glinda,
the Good Witch of the North.”

“South,” he corrected and when she pulled
back to give him a look that included a raised eyebrow, he smiled. “I’m a big
fan of the flying monkeys and besides I once won a
Phrases with
Pals tournament with a quote from her.”

“And that quote was?”

“‘Be gone before someone drops a house on
you’,” he answered.

“You know the line I liked best?”

He shook his head.

“‘Only bad witches are ugly’,” she told
him.

“Well, that’s open to discussion,” he said.
“I’ve known some that were exquisitely beautiful but as bad as they come.”

She trailed her fingers down his bare side.
“Let’s save that discussion for another time,” she said. “I can think of better
things I’d like you to do with your mouth.”

His grin was instantaneous. “Me too,” he
said as he slid down in the bed and wedged his upper body possessively between
her legs. “This it?”

“You’re getting there,” she said, burying
her hand in his thick hair. “Now show me what you got, demon.”

The first lick across her dampening folds
was a pretty gods-be-damned good start.