The Nightwind's Woman

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “She’ll be his Extension,” Nash Wilder, Chief of Agent Operations at Tearmann, had informed the Nightwind.

  “She’s a witch,” Kayle clarified.

  “A very powerful one,” Nash replied.

  “Human?”

  “Entirely.”

  “Not a Hell-hag?” Even saying the term sent shivers of unease through Kayle.

  “No connection whatsoever,” Nash answered, knowing why Kayle was asking.

  He could breathe a little easier knowing Sorn’s woman wasn’t one of those who had turned his unlife into a living hell.

  “Is she going to take the job?”

  Nash shrugged. “To be honest, Rand, I can’t tell. Her mind is like a vault. I’m afraid my psi abilities are worthless on her.”

  As he stared at the lovely woman glaring back at him, he hated to admit his own abilities were no better than Wilder’s in regard to the witch.

  I know what you are.

  He smiled nastily because she’d given in first. Yeah and I know what you are, baby, he sent back to her.

  Stay away from me.

  Randon nodded. With pleasure.

  The door to the interrogation room opened and the Reaper appeared. He stopped dead still as he got a look at the woman who had turned toward him.

  “You didn’t know she was here,” Kayle mumbled. “Interesting. You knew mine was here but not yours.”

  This situation had the Supervisor’s machinations stamped all over it.

  “Ellery Vance,” he heard the woman say. She held out her hand.

  “Darkyn Sorn,” the Reaper replied as he took her hand in his.

  “You are my Extension.”

  “I am your life-mate,” Sorn told her and brought her hand to his lips.

  “State the obvious, asswipe,” Kayle said with a snort and Sorn’s attention flicked to the mirror.

  “Get the hell out of there, Breakwind,” Sorn ordered.

  “Go fuck yourself,” Kayle replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Allow me,” the witch said and with a wave of her hand, the glass became black as ebony and all sound vanished.

  “Huh,” Kayle grunted, impressed. The bitch had some serious game and would need watching.

  Unable to penetrate whatever force field the little witch had generated, Kayle left the viewing room. Hands dug into the pockets of his black jeans, he sent his mind on a search for his own woman and found her at the Supervisor’s side on the lowest level of the facility. He stopped and willed himself into mist. It was faster to travel that way.

  * * * * *

  They were on Level Five, the medical floor. It was also where the morgue was located.

  “There are five other physicians in residence here. When you are on board, you’ll be assigned a twelve-on-forty-eight-off schedule. We’ve been pulling physicians from the Exchange and Baybridge on a rotating basis to maintain that schedule for those physicians already here,” the Supervisor informed her. “And if necessary, we can pull them from the other facilities if an emergency occurs but that hasn’t happened so far.”

  They were passing two rooms he told her were containment cells. She looked into one of them.

  “What’s this used for?”

  “That cell is for the Prime Reaper. For when he Converts. The other is for Kayle when he’s been a bad boy.”

  She looked around at him. “Converts?”

  “From humanoid to Reaper. Sorn doesn’t need it unless he too has been a bad boy and that does happen occasionally. He and your Nightwind loathe one another. Too often they let that loathing erupt into out and out warfare—making it necessary for me to discipline them. Hopefully now each of them has a life-mate, that situation will ease.”

  “Having two Alpha males in your employ must be exhausting,” she said with a grin.

  “You have no idea,” the Supervisor mumbled.

  They had reached a set of double doors inscribed with a strange symbol.

  “Beyond here are the isolation and quarantine wards. Unless there is an outbreak or one of our inhabitants enters his or her danger level, they are seldom used. These doors are kept locked at all times. Currently there are no patients housed therein. The symbol signifies danger.” He swept a hand to another set of doors farther down the corridor. “Beyond there is where you will be working.” Another strange symbol labeled the room. “The character you see represents healing.”

  “What language is this?” she asked, reaching out to touch the symbol when they reached the doors.

  “Draganian,” he replied. “The ancient language of the Triune Goddess Morrigunia. It is under Her auspices that all three facilities operate for the Consortium.”

  “Will I get to meet the goddess?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “She’s not overly fond of the life-mates of Her Reapers.” He chuckled. “I believe it is a jealousy thing but who knows?” He pushed open one of the doors for her then indicated she was to precede him.

  A long, brightly lit corridor with dozens of closed doors. Except for four doors on either side that were white, the other doors were either dark green or black. She turned to the man beside her.

  “White doors are exam rooms. Green doors are staff offices or labs. Each is clearly marked. Black doors are the inpatient rooms.”

  He showed her one of the exam rooms, explained the other seven were identical then moved toward the first black door. Set into the door was a plexigon window over which a titanium mesh had been installed on both sides of the glass and buried within the titanium door.

  “Most of the rooms are kept locked at all times,” he said. “We don’t need the creatures roaming free although there are about thirty who are trustees, if you will. They help the doctors when asked and translate should the need arise.” He crooked his fingers. “Come take a look at one of those you’ll be treating.”

  She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and walked slowly to the door. Her palms were sweating and her heart pounding for she had no idea what lay beyond the portal. What wild, exotic creature might be lurking inside the room. She held her breath and looked through the glass.

  The creature was sitting on its bunk with its back to the wall, knees drawn up. In its hands was a book by John Sandford.

  “What is it?” she whispered.

  “I am a dagon,” the creature said without looking up. “Part fish and part man.”

  Scales covered that flesh that she could see beyond the sleeves of its shirt and the hem of its slacks. There were gills on its cheeks and its eyes held the same flatness as most aquatic species.

  “Kaitus is one of our trustees,” the Supervisor said. “He is a shape shifter. He teaches new inhabitants the ways of their human counterparts.”

  “And he is right in the middle of a very thrilling part of his book.” He waved his fingers. “Go away. We’ll talk later, milady.”

  “Ah, sure,” she said and moved back from the door. “Fascinating.”

  “Let me introduce you to our resident fantine,” the Supervisor told her. He moved down five doors and knocked politely.

  “Come!”

  He opened the door and stepped inside. “How are you today, Reglan?”

  “Fair to partly cloudy,” was the reply.

  Kenzi shyly poked her head into the room and smiled.

  This creature was dressed in a red-and-white plaid shirt, faded overalls, work boots and had a straw hat sitting jauntily on its slightly oversized head.

  “Pardon my attire, milady, but I have been in the hydroponic gardens tending the vegetables. I like to dress the part for it amuses the technicians on that floor.” He bowed respectfully but kept his distance.

  “Reglan is a fantine,” the Supervisor explained. “He is a Swiss faery who brings good weather to farmers—for whom all fantine have a fondness. Reg, this is Dr. Delaney. She may be joining us.”

  “Ah, the Nightwind’s woman,” Reglan said. “No maybe about it if that one is involved.” He s
ighed dramatically. “You have my condolences on being the Chosen of that demon.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Too possessive,” Reglan said. “And he can be as mean as a cornered ghoret.”

  “A what?”

  “Ghorets are the most venomous vipers in the Megaverse,” the Supervisor told her. “Think a Fer-de-Lance on steroids.”

  “With a Fer-de-Lance a victim can take two steps,” Reglan said. “The ghoret’s bite is a thousand times more potent.”

  “Do you have ghorets here?” she asked.

  “Mercy no!” Reglan answered for the Supervisor. “We have a few cricks, a dipsa—second cousin to the ghoret, and that cursed mamlambo no one can tolerate since it glows in the dark. Those are the only snake-like beings here at Tearmann.”

  “We’ve got a minhocão arriving next week,” the Supervisor stated.

  “Oh, the gods help us. Those things are nasty!” Reglan groaned. “And they positively reek.”

  “It will be in its own tank.”

  “It will still stink,” Reglan complained. “There goes the neighborhood.”

  “When it’s time for you to take an assistant,” the Supervisor said. “Reglan is the man to seek out to help you find one. You can trust what he tells you.”

  “As you can all weathermen,” Reglan said with a grin.

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” Kenzi replied.

  Though the fantine had appeared human albeit a smaller, thinner version of human, there were several more creatures Kenzi was introduced to as trustworthy who were so exotic-looking her head was spinning by the time she and the Supervisor headed back to the elevator.

  “What do you think?” he asked her.

  “Had I not seen them with my own eyes, I would not have believed you,” she responded.

  “Level Six is what we call the Holding Level. It is housing for Classes I through V residents. You’ll learn more about the different class designations during orientation. No need to go there now. Level Seven is the Containment Level for Classes VI through IX. The inhabitants of that level are considered dangerous but containable.”

  “I understand.”

  “Now I want to show you some of the bad ones,” he said. “They are in maximum security, which is on the lowest level. We call it the Incarceration Level and…” He stopped, stiffened then released a long sigh. “It seems he does not trust me to protect you down there.” He looked beyond her shoulder.

  Kenzi turned in time to see what she thought at first was a dark shadow but then the shadow shimmered and she recognized the Nightwind. He came toward them with a stride she would describe as a swagger and for some reason that reassured her.

  “It was the estrie who let the baginis out of her cell,” he told the Supervisor.

  “Did she say why?”

  “Because she could,” Randon said with a twist of his lips. “I have ordered Sustenance withheld for a few days as punishment.”

  “Isn’t that rather cruel?” Kenzi asked.

  “Sustenance is blood,” the Supervisor put in. “Not food.”

  “Estrie are sexual witches,” Randon told her. “They draw their power from drinking blood and having sex. She won’t be able to do either for a while. If we don’t punish them, we can’t control them. They’re like children in that regard.”

  “I see,” Kenzi said.

  “I can take it from here,” the Nightwind said, reaching for Kenzi’s upper arm. His long fingers circled her flesh and a tingle ran from her elbow to her palms.

  “Keep that arrogance in check, Kayle, or I’ll send you out on the next assignment and that one is to Iran in search of a coven of caballi,” the Supervisor said with a growl. “And you’d be working with Sorn.”

  “Just thought to free you up for other more important matters,” Randon said. “I know how valuable your time is.”

  “Arrogant whelp,” the Supervisor grumbled. He swiped his key card down the slot beside the elevator door then explained it was a maximum-security level.

  The doors slid open with a quiet shush and the Supervisor stepped back to allow her to enter.

  “His brother over at the Exchange never learned the manners our Supervisor displays,” Randon commented as he followed Kenzi and his boss into the elevator.

  “My brother never learned a lot of things,” the Supervisor said with a snort. He placed his hand against a scanner beside the control panel. A green light read his palm print ID then the elevator doors closed and the cage engaged with a soft whirring sound.

  “Did he tell you his youngest brother runs Baybridge?” Randon inquired.

  “No, he didn’t,” Kenzi said. She looked up at the Supervisor, whose lips were taut.

  “That brother is entirely human and is married. He’s a physician,” Randon continued. “A criminal psychologist—as is his lady-wife and her daughter.”

  “The daughter is married to the Alpha at Baybridge,” the Supervisor said. “Viraiden Cree is the Reaper’s name.”

  “He’s a badass wolf boy,” Randon said. “Just ask him.”

  “That’s enough,” the Supervisor told him.

  “Just saying,” Randon said with a shrug.

  “The level to which we are headed is higher in height than those above it,” the Supervisor said. “The reason being some of the inmates housed there are quite large.”

  “Like the afanc,” Randon said. “Ever heard of them?”

  Kenzi shook her head.

  “They are twenty yards long and two yards in diameter. It requires a large tank to house it.”

  “It’s a sea creature?”

  “Lake,” the Supervisor said. “Welsh lake to be precise.”

  “Ugly son of a bitch,” Randon said. “Rows of super sharp teeth. Its victims die from exsanguination.”

  “Is it the largest creature you have here?” she asked.

  “At the moment,” Randon said. “The largest is soon to be the minhocão that is being hunted down now. It is eighty-two feet long and four feet in diameter.”

  “Largest reptile in the world,” the Supervisor said. “Said to be an offspring of the god Raphian.”

  “I’ve never heard of him,” she said.

  “There are files on the computer in your room that you will need to familiarize yourself with before you start work,” the Supervisor told her. “It will be helpful for you to know the major players among the deities for several show up here from time to time.”

  “Whether we want Them to or not,” Randon grumbled.

  The elevator settled with a slight bump but the doors did not open.

  “The only people who can access this area are myself, the two Alphas, and—in case the three of us are incapacitated—my brothers or the other two Alphas.”

  “What happens if all of you are incapacitated?”

  “Everything on this level perishes,” Randon replied. “Unless either the Father-God or Morrigunia intervenes.”

  “Which is unlikely,” the Supervisor added.

  “The Father-God?” she repeated. “Zeus? Jupiter?”

  “Jee Yn Ayr,” Randon told her. “He is Morrigunia’s husband.”

  “I’ve a lot to learn,” she said as the Supervisor placed his hand upon the palm reader and the doors opened.

  The room they stepped into was cavernous. Looking up, she could barely see the ceiling in the muted light that lit the area.

  “We have to keep it fairly dark in here because some of the inmates are extremely photophobic,” the Supervisor informed her.

  “Makes the place that much more unsettling for any human who ventures here,” Randon commented.

  “That’s an understatement,” Kenzi said quietly. She was glad the Nightwind still had his hand wrapped snugly around her arm. The contact was comforting. Unconsciously she moved closer to him as they left the elevator.

  “I’ve got you, küçüğüm,” he told her.

  “What does that mean?” she queried.

  “Küçüğüm?” He
smiled. “My little girl.”

  The translation made her feel even more protected.

  “The first cell—these are not rooms as on the levels above—is home to one of the worst creatures we have at Tearmann,” the Supervisor said.

  The doors on this level were all bright orange and none had windows. Beside each door was a two foot-by-two foot vid-com viewing screen. All the screens were active and giving off a soft gray glow.

  “It took three Alphas to bring this inmate in from Australia,” he continued. “The creature has superhuman strength and unbelievable dexterity.”

  Kenzi walked to the vid-com screen. What she saw made her shudder.

  “It’s called a garkain,” Randon said, pulling her back to his chest.The creature was hideously ugly with bat-like wings folded over its massive body. Sharp fangs protruded from its slick black mouth, the jaws of which constantly snapped.

  “The creature will trap its prey within its wings and the stench will choke the victim until he slowly suffocates. When almost dead, the garkain will begin to drain the blood then devour the victim’s flesh while he still lives.”

  “It is hideous,” she said. “I may have to treat that thing?”

  “It’s possible though not very likely,” the Supervisor said. “Let’s move on. This is the jikininki,” the Supervisor said, pointing to a screen a couple of doors down from the garkain. “Another flesh eater.”

  “He’s showing you the worst of the worst in appearance,” Randon whispered in her ear as he stepped back to let her follow the Supervisor. “Try not to gag when you see this one.”

  The garkain was hideous but the jikininki was revolting. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to throw up when she got a look at the creature lurking beyond the camera of the vid-com.

  Hunched over as it traversed its cell from one wall to another, the jikininki was covered with suppurating boils and lesions that dripped from its loathsome body to plop upon the titanium floor. Its eyes glowed a hellish red.

  The Supervisor stayed well back from what could be seen on the vid-com screen. His voice was a bit strained as he spoke. “The most dangerous thing about the jikininki is that it can shape shift into a normal human form. It raids graveyards for newly dead flesh. Desecrating the dead is a sin in most cultures but in Japan, from whence this evil comes, it is a despicable act.”