by Boyett-Compo
“Will the Reaper miss his wittle doggie?” Danyon asked in a childish singsong. “I'm so soweey.”
The starjet shuddered as the main thrusters lifted it off the planetoid, blowing the accumulated snow away from its landing gear as the struts were drawn up into the craft's belly.
“I'd tell you to strap in, but I don't give a Diabolusian warthog's prick whether you do or not,” Cree said, pulling the flight harness across his chest, willing himself not to feel the pain of his numerous burns.
Danyon barely had time to grab at a nearby chair as the starjet took to the air, banking sharply to the right as it picked up speed and arced into the black reaches of space.
CHAPTER 48
Deirdre McGregor Hesar reached out to cover her daughter's hands. “Is there anything I can do?”
Bronwyn eased her hands from beneath her mother's. “I'll be fine as soon as Aidan returns.”
DeeDee exchanged a look with her new husband.
“What if Cree doesn't come back?” Neal Hesar asked.
Bronwyn lifted her chin. “He will.”
“But, Bronnie—” DeeDee began.
“I'm glad you're back, Mama.” Bronwyn opened the door. “And again, congratulations to you and Dr. Hesar.”
“Neal,” her stepfather insisted.
Bronwyn moved into the hallway. “Neal,” she repeated, smiling.
DeeDee stepped forward, looking like she was about to protest her daughter's leaving, when men appeared in the hallway, walking from the direction of Bronwyn's apartment. “What in the world?”
Bronwyn stepped aside to let the movers pass. “Just a little temporary housecleaning while I redecorate, Mama.”
Her mother stared after the men who were carrying the bedroom furniture she and Bronwyn had purchased in Des Moines. “You're redecorating so soon?” she inquired, outwardly aghast at Bronwyn's capriciousness.
“Just changing a color here and there. I'm not getting rid of anything.” She smiled. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Redecorating is expensive, Bronnie. We spent a small fortune and I—”
“Let me worry about it.” Bronwyn looked at her watch. “I have to get going.” Her mouth twitched. “I have to get ready for my guests.”
“What guests?” DeeDee asked, and likely would have questioned Bronwyn further, had not her husband reminded her that her daughter was a grown woman and entitled to her own life.
“But—”
“No ‘buts,’ DeeDee.” Neal drew his wife back into their apartment, waved goodbye to Bronwyn, and firmly shut the door behind him.
Bronwyn let out a relieved breath. Her new abilities—honed from spending nearly every waking hour of the last five weeks with a thick book clutched in her hands—were holding her in good stead. Glancing again at her watch, she hurried down the hall.
The movers had cleared out the room. The carpet had been taken up, the vertical blinds removed. Bronwyn looked around, then turned to the man who had supervised the movers.
“Are you ready?” she asked Brian.
“As I'll ever be.”
“Then let's do it!”
* * * *
Cree cut the engines and allowed the starjet to settle gently into orbit on the dark side of Terra's moon. He shut down all unnecessary systems and engaged the autopilot.
“I still say you should destroy this craft,” Danyon fumed.
They had argued about the starjet's fate for most of the journey.
“If I'm not allowed to stay with Bronwyn,” Cree snarled, “I will return to Chale where I belong.”
The Nightwind rolled his eyes. “I'm not buying that. You think you'll cause us problems, but I promise, I will see to it that you won't!”
Cree ground his teeth. The argument was starting to get to him. He glared at the demon. “As much as I hate to admit it, you saved my life, and I am honor-bound to you for that.”
“And I've told you, I don't want your gods-be-damned thanks! I didn't do it for you!”
“I wasn't thanking you! Truth told, I would just have soon died than return here to have you force my mate to do your vile bidding!”
“She was mine long before you ever met her!” Danyon declared. “As a McGregor clanswoman she—”
“Shut the hell up, incubus!”
“She signed the Pact!”
“I know what you forced her to do. What choice did you give her?”
“If you think to tell her about the Amazeen,” Danyon said, his lips pulling back over his teeth, “I would think again!”
Cree's body was almost entirely healed, although a few bone-deep burns still oozed—the Queen had difficulty closing the scorched flesh. His strength back, his fury and hatred as strong—if not stronger—than ever against the incubus, he wanted nothing more than to make mincemeat of the demon. The thing was, he didn't think he would be able to defeat an entity that could shift into nothingness before his eyes.
“Think hard on that.” The demon chuckled, obviously intercepting Cree's reluctance.
Cree's thoughts turned bleak. There was another thing that bothered him greatly—he owed the Nightwind a debt of honor over and above the incubus having saved his life. With no tenerse, no sustenance on board, Cree knew he would have gone mad with hunger during the two-week flight had not the Nightwind disappeared, then reappeared, with what was needed.
“Where did you get that?” Cree had often asked.
“What do you care?” Danyon grumbled as he tossed the plastibags of sustenance to his rival.
That the incubus had fed him, been there to inject him with tenerse, had irritated Cree. Shamed by having to endure being cared for by his hated enemy, the situation was barely tolerable.
“I told her I'd bring you back as you were before you were taken,” Danyon declared, “and that I intend to do.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cree snapped, tired of hearing Danyon's words.
Danyon stared at his enemy for a long time then decided he would have to find a way to kill the Reaper without Bronwyn knowing. He would never feel truly safe with her as long as the beast drew breath. There had to be a loophole somewhere in the pact she and he had made. It was all in the wording, he thought, and turned his agile mind to finding a way out of his predicament.
Cree ignored the pensive demon as he began the final check of the starjet. He synchronized the transport module with the device he had pinned to his shirt, making sure it would work should he need to return to the ship. With the coordinates set for the lower level of the Baybridge complex, it would be possible for him to transport to the containment cell area without detection.
“Or,” Danyon said, “I could just pick you up and—”
“Keep your filthy hands to yourself!” Cree shouted, unnerved by the demon's ability to read his mind.
“Have it your way,” Danyon quipped and disappeared.
“Damn you!” Cree bellowed, knowing the demon would arrive at Bronwyn's before him. With a howl of rage, he slapped at the transport device on his chest and grimaced as he began to de-materialize.
It hurt, and he hadn't been prepared for that.
* * * *
Bronwyn was sitting on the sofa of her apartment when Danyon appeared. Her hand tensed on Brownie's silky fur before she looked up.
“Danyon!” she gasped, coming to her feet.
The incubus smiled. “I am home, Beloved.” He went to take her in his arms, but she jumped back.
“Where is Aidan?”
A frown marred the handsome plains of Danyon's face. “Oh, he'll be along.” Again, he moved toward her, his arms outstretched.
Bronwyn moved away. “You told me you would bring him home!”
“I have,” Danyon replied, looking hurt. “Did I not pledge I would?”
“Then where is he?” Bronwyn asked, trembling, her lips quivering. She clutched at the doorjamb behind her.
A momentary bright light pulsed through the room, then Cree was standing there, swaying.
�
�Aidan!” Bronwyn would have rushed to her lover, but Danyon held out his hand.
“You promised to give yourself entirely to me,” he reminded. “You've seen him and now he will—”
“Danny, no!” Bronwyn pleaded, her hand out to him. “Don't send him away yet. Let me talk to him!”
“I think not. You see he is all in one piece, none the worse for wear.”
Cree glared at his rival and did not speak.
“Allow me ten minutes with him, Danny,” Bronwyn begged, tears falling down her cheeks. She could sense the pain her lover was experiencing.
“No,” Danyon said, shaking his head.
“Five minutes?” Bronwyn countered. At his continued objections, she asked for three minutes instead. “What harm could it do?”
Danyon glanced at his enemy and likely saw the same hopelessness stamped on the rugged features as Bronwyn saw. “Two minutes. And no more.”
Bronwyn held out her hand to her lover. “Aidan?”
As if trying desperately to ignore some agony, Cree walked to her and took her hand. His gaze locked on her face, like he was striving to remember it.
“Milady,” he said, bringing her fingers to his lips.
“Come with me.” She began pulling him into the room behind her.
“No, Beloved,” Danyon ordered. “You will stay where I can see you.”
Bronwyn gripped Cree's hand. “Come with me.”
“I told you no!” Danyon snarled.
Bronwyn yanked hard on Cree's hand, unmindful of his gasp of pain as she jerked him into the bedroom.
Cree was oviously stunned by what he saw, for he put up no resistance as Bronwyn propelled him to the center of the room. Looking at the floor, his eyes widened.
“Do not step one foot outside the circle,” she demanded.
He looked into her eyes and nodded as the Nightwind rushed through the door and came to a skidding stop.
“What have you done?” Danyon hissed.
With Cree's hand still clutched tightly in hers, Bronwyn faced the demon. “How is it my mate has suffered great pain?”
Danyon's lips parted. “How did you—”
“Did I not bid you to see that no harm befell him?”
The incubus lowered his stare to the pentagram drawn across the bedroom floor. It was a protection, a barrier through which Bronwyn knew he could not travel. While she was within the circle, he could do nothing to her, nor could her lay hands on Cree.
“Answer me!” she ordered.
Danyon shook his head. “You asked that no one or nothing harm him on Amazeen. He never reached Amazeen, Milady.”
“A clever twisting of my words, was it not?”
Bronwyn sensed that Danyon didn't know how she had become aware of her witchling destiny, nor how she had embraced it. Only an adept, such as she had become, could have placed the pentagram in the precise way it needed to be drawn. Only someone who knew what she was about could have helped her assemble the things that lay on the floor.
“I am the last of the McGregor female line,” she said, her chin raised. “No further female issue shall be brought forth from my womb.”
The incubus flinched, as if knowing he had been beaten at his own game. “I am sorry I deceived you,” Danyon said, moisture creeping down his cheeks.
“Not as sorry as you will be!”
* * * *
Cree looked from the blood-red pentagram at his feet to the doorway where Danyon hovered. He saw fear on the incubus’ face and began to realize a serious change in circumstances was taking place. He moved closer to Bronwyn, somehow knowing his—and her—salvation lay in her actions.
“What excuse do you give for trying to cheat me, demon?” she asked.
“My love blinded me to the rightful paths I knew I should trod!” Danyon confessed. “You would not accept me, though I did everything I could to entice you. You chose another. That I could not allow. You are a McGregor, and as a McGregor, you belong to me. I will have you at all cost.”
“And a great price you shall pay for what you have done.”
“Forgive me, Beloved.” Danyon fell to his knees in an obvious attempt to placate her. “I am yours to command.” He lowered his head, his right hand covering his heart.
“I know you are!”
Cree heard the triumph in her voice. He tore his eyes from the demon to look at her and was stunned to see true evil lighting her beautiful face.
Danyon likely saw it as well as he locked eyes with her. “Lady, no,” he pleaded, putting out a hand.
“You will hie yourself back to your lair, demon,” Bronwyn commanded.
“Beloved, no!”
“And there you will stay until you are called forth once more by a female born of the McGregor line!”
Tears cascaded down his waxen cheeks. “But you are the last!”
Bronwyn's smile was as evil and cold as a demon's heart. “Aye,” she whispered, her green gaze flooded with fire. “That I am.”
“There will never be another call for me!”
“No, there won't.” Bronwyn raised her arm and commanded he leave.
“Please! I will not go!”
Cree chuckled. “Will the Nightwind miss his wittle lady? I'm so soweey.”
“Go to hell, Reaper!” Danyon bellowed.
“You first,” Cree insisted with a wide grin.
“Raphian, come!” Bronwyn ordered.
Cree caught the stench of sulfur only a second before the Destroyer of Men's Souls shot through the bedroom wall and grabbed the demon in Its maw. With a crunching sound, the Supreme Evil Entity fled, dragging a screeching Danyon Hart by the throat back through the gaping hole that had exploded with His appearance, sucking in on itself to close as though it had never been.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Cree whispered, falling back on the Sean Cullen part of him that had witnessed the scene with horrified eyes.
“They had no part in it at all, at all,” Bronwyn sighed.
“Is he gone?” Cree asked with a hard shudder.
“Aye—and will never return.”
He looked at the pentagram. “Is it safe to leave this evil thing now?”
“Not yet. I have a few wrongs to right before I'm done.”
EPILOGUE
“And I'm looking forward to meeting you, too, Lauren,” Bronwyn said.
Cree were lying with Bronwyn in her bed, in what had once been her guestroom.
“We'll see you on Saturday?” Bronwyn inquired. “Bye ‘til then.”
The Reaper took the receiver from her and hung it up.
“Turn off the light, please,” she said.
He did as she bid, then sighed as she settled against his chest, her head in the crook of his arm. He held her to him, breathing in the scent of lavender that clung to her long hair. They entwined their toes, tickling one another.
“Lauren is anxious to meet you,” she said, twirling her finger around a lock of his chair hair.
“Umm,” he said, his contentment making him unusually sleepy. Since “The Night of the Pentagram,” as he had labeled that fateful event, he had been able to sleep almost as naturally as any healthy human male. He knew it was having his mate at his side from dusk to dawn that eased his fears and brought him peace, making it possible for him to rest.
“She reminded me that I should put furniture in the old bedroom so no one will be tempted to lift the rug and discover what I have underneath.”
He looked at her. “Are you going to leave that gods-be-damned thing in there?”
“For now.” She caressed his chest. “I think I'll turn it into a sitting room, with just a wicker love seat and chairs. Something easy to move, if need be.”
He sighed, laid his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. “If need be.”
“We could use it, you know.”
He frowned. “How?”
“We could send those who transgress against the laws of God and man to the Abyss. There would be no need for a trial or for
sentencing or for incarceration in a place like Baybridge. No need to use the death penalty. They would simply disappear into the unknown.”
Cree opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He found her suggestion held merit. “Not kill those offenders, but send them where they will never harm anyone again?”
“Precisely. No harm and no foul and no additional taxes to drain the people's pockets.”
“No harm and no foul,” Cree echoed and tore his thoughts from Danyon.
“Of course, there would be a need for a bounty hunter, if you will, to go after the evil ones.”
Cree pondered the matter a moment more, then decided he felt comfortable with it. “I suppose I'll be sent to fetch these miscreants.”
“As soon as we find out about them. There'd be no chance for them to do their evil a second time.”
“I like the sound of that, Bronnie, though there are only so many hours in a day for a Reaper to be hunting, you know.”
Bronwyn ran her foot up his leg. “Are you getting old on me, Reaper?”
“I am already older than Methuselah ever dreamed of being.”
“But not as old as me,” another voice said.
Cree sat up in the bed to glare at the aged Nightwind. “Did I tell you not to trespass in here again? Get the hell out of this bedroom!”
Cedric yawned as he shifted his ancient body in the rocking chair. “You say a lot of things, beast, to which I have no intention of paying heed.”
“Cedric,” Bronwyn warned. “Take your chair into the living room and don't sneak back in here again. You know how Aidan feels.”
“Think you I care, Beloved?” Cedric inquired, his lower lip thrust forward in a pout. “I am honor-bound to protect you. That one is—”
“My husband, Cedric,” Bronwyn reminded the demon. “He can protect me, and will.”
“So, get gone, you foul—” Cree snarled, but Bronwyn shushed him with a poke to the ribs.