The Nightwind's Woman

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “Fuck you,” the incubus snarled.

  “Insult me one more time and that will be the last time you do so. There is a limit to my patience,” Kerreyder said. “I’ll send you back to the slime of the Abyss in the blink of an eye and you will lose her for all time!” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you clear on that, demon?”

  Sorn looked up from the vid-pad, turned to the Nightwind. “I’d say aye if I were you,” he said.

  “Kayle?” the Supervisor pressed.

  Every eye was locked on Randon Kayle, awaiting his answer.

  “Aye, I am clear on it,” the Nightwind mumbled.

  “You’ll not die,” the archdemon said. “You have my word on it. You will share her with me for all time.”

  Randon did not respond to Kerreyder’s words.

  Kerreyder stared in silence at Randon’s averted face for a long time then gave his full attention to the Supervisor. “Let’s talk about the prey I have come to this realm to retrieve for Yn Drogh Spyrryd.”

  “Who are the two here?” the Supervisor inquired.

  “The jikininki and the craquehhe.”

  “What is the craquehhe?” Cree asked. “I don’t think I’ve run across that one.”

  “That’s that disgusting one with maggots in his hair. I took him out about a year ago,” Sorn said with a shudder. “He’s a revenant, one of the most powerful and vicious of the rotting corpse creatures we have here.”

  “Guess I missed making his acquaintance,” Cree replied.

  “Consider yourself lucky,” Sorn told him.

  “And the three in the wild?” the Supervisor queried.

  “Two are brothers from the same litter of adlets,” Kerreyder said. “They escaped together after trying to assassinate Yn Drogh Spyrryd.”

  “Adlets?” Cree asked of the merciless werewolf-like creatures. He sat forward. “There are adlets here?”

  “In the northwestern part of this country and up into the Northlands,” Kerreyder said. “The ones I am seeking joined a pack that has been on Terra for centuries now.”

  The Prime Reaper turned to the Supervisor. “A pack of adlets? And I’m just now hearing of this?” he demanded.

  “We knew of the pack and have it under control,” the Supervisor said. “In the last fifty years they have been preying only on wild animals in the Pacific northwest. We have been transporting the carcasses of zoo animals and large roadkill to help when prey is scarce up there in the winter months.”

  “Aye, well you can bet since the brothers have arrived, humans are on the pack’s menu once again,” Kerreyder stated.

  “I should have been told,” Cree groused. “Adlets are filthy beasts.”

  “And the third?” the Supervisor inquired, deliberately looking away from Cree’s accusatory stare.

  “She’s going to be the tricky one,” Kerreyder said. “She’s a Saurian.”

  “Shit,” Sorn said. “I hate those reptilian bitches with their shiny scales and warty tongues.” He shuddered. “Once in a bar on Storia I had one put her filthy hands on my…” He pursed his lips. “They have two vaginas, by the way.”

  “Could be why the males have two penises,” the Supervisor suggested.

  “And unlike the male of their species, those bitches can shape shift,” Sorn complained. “They can mimic other species perfectly to lure you, trap you, draw you in but as soon as they get you where they want you, they shift back into their natural form and…” He shuddered again then actually gagged at whatever memory had surfaced.

  Cree pursed his lips and rolled his eyes at Sorn. “What did she do?” he asked.

  “She didn’t get a chance to…” Sorn realized the Prime was speaking to Kerreyder and blushed. “Oh, you meant the bitch on Treigeilys.” His blushed darkened. “Never mind.”

  Cree sighed deeply, flicked his gaze from Sorn to Kerreyder and repeated his question.

  “Before or after she seduced Yn Drogh Spyrryd?” Kerreyder queried.

  “He must be hard up to lay with one of her race,” the Supervisor said.

  “If you looked like him, you would be too,” Randon said.

  “I can well imagine she is nothing to write home about in the looks department,” Cree put forth.

  “I’d rather fuck a warthog than a Saurian bitch,” Randon told him. He sat up but slouched in his chair, picking at the wooden arm.

  “Actually Saurian women are incredible lovers,” the archdemon said.

  “You know this from experience, do you?” Cree inquired.

  “Mayhap,” Kerreyder said.

  “So what did she do after he fucked her?” Sorn asked.

  “She was in on the assassination attempt. She set the thing in motion by castrating Yn Drogh Spyrryd while he slept. Of course his cock grew back as they knew it would but they thought the loss of blood would weaken him, keep him incapacitated long enough for them to remove his heart.”

  “He doesn’t have one,” the Nightwind said with a grunt.

  “At any rate, he wants the three of them and the two creatures housed here brought back for punishment,” the archdemon stated. “The jikininki and the craquehhe were part of an earlier attempt to overthrow Yn Drogh Spyrryd and somehow escaped their holding cell. He thought while I was here after the other three I might as well take them off your hands as well.”

  “No loss for us on any of them,” Cree said. “Especially not the adlets.”

  “I can take down the adlets by myself,” Kerreyder told him.

  “I want to be there when you do,” the Prime Reaper insisted. “Those things have no business on my world.”

  “Thought you might,” Kerreyder agreed. “That is why I asked Alexandru to have you present today.” He looked at Sorn then Randon. “The Saurian is another matter. I will need help with her.”

  “Why?” Cree asked. “You’re an archdemon, a demigod. Why would you need their help? Your powers are a thousand times more potent than are theirs.”

  “Aye, but she knows me. She will sense me. She won’t sense them,” Kerreyder said.

  “You fucked her,” Sorn said.

  Kerreyder shrugged but did not confess to having done so.

  “So when do we leave?” Cree inquired.

  “You and I will leave at first light. Since Sorn can’t shift to avian form he’ll need to be flown to Florida. The incubus can either fly with him or use his own powers to get there,” Kerreyder replied.

  “I’ll have the jet fueled and ready for takeoff tomorrow morning,” the Supervisor said. “Will you be traveling with Sorn, Kayle?”

  “No,” Randon said with a growl. He swiveled his head toward Kerreyder. “Where in Florida is she?”

  “Milton.”

  “Syntian Cree’s old stomping ground,” the Supervisor said. “How appropriate Kayle.” He turned to the Prime Reaper. “You know of him, of course. He was a Master Nightwind. The woman to whose family he was blood-sworn sent him back to the Abyss.”

  “I’m aware of who he is but he’s no kin to me,” Cree stated. “At least not that I know of.”

  “He isn’t,” the archdemon told him.

  The Nightwind frowned then shot the archdemon a hard look. “Is he still there? In the Abyss.”

  “He is and will be for the foreseeable future,” Kerreyder answered. “Along with myriad other nightbeasts like himself.”

  Randon shuddered, obviously affected by the thought of a fellow incubus trapped in the frigid, lightless depths of the vile pit.

  “Be a good little demon and you don’t have to worry about returning there,” Kerreyder said.

  “Don’t threaten me,” Randon said, standing up so quickly he elevated the brows of the males around him.

  “Not a threat,” Kerreyder said, eyebrows coming down, eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. “That was a promise.”

  With a low curse, the Nightwind stalked to the door, flung it open so hard it slammed against the wall to crack a lintel and stormed from the room.

  “Lilith put
entirely too much testosterone into those demons when she created them,” Kerreyder observed.

  “You’re not helping matters by baiting him,” Cree said. He got to his feet and cocked his head to indicate Sorn was to join him. “You’ve taken his woman, lain with her, seeded her, made her immortal and now you’re rubbing his nose in the shit you’ve piled around him. Why don’t you lay off him?”

  “Cree,” the Supervisor warned in a low, quiet voice.

  “That’s all right, Alexandru,” the archdemon said, holding up a hand. “The Prime may speak his mind.” He smiled nastily. “Say what you will, Reaper.”

  With the exception of the bastard Nightwind Danyon Hart who had vied with him for the hand of Viraiden Cree’s beloved Bronwyn, no creature had ever annoyed him as greatly as did the archdemon. Not even the Blackwind who had been sent to drag him back to Amazeen for execution. He found the longer he was in Kerreyder’s presence, the more he disliked him.

  “Sorn and Kayle are under my command,” he told Kerreyder. “I want you to remember that.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I have their backs. You fuck with either of them and you fuck with me.” The Prime Reaper shot the archdemon a malevolent grin of his own. “Best that you keep that in mind. You may have the Fallen in your corner but I have the Triune in mine. Her husband may be your father but She has His ear.”

  Kerreyder inclined his head. “Duly noted, Reaper.”

  * * * * *

  The moment Randon left the conference room he shifted into his feline form—dropping to all fours with a hiss. He didn’t want to be waylaid, be talked to by anyone and in his black cat persona he could pad quietly and nearly invisibly through the hallways and rooms without drawing much notice. He was not the only black cat wandering the facility. Most were of the natural world. A few were not. Unless one of the trusted creatures who were allowed free access to the top three levels were milling about, no one would know the Nightwind was on the prowl.

  He wondered where Kenzi was at that moment. Most likely she was still sleeping for the archdemon had rendered her immortal the night before. No doubt he had placed her in a form of stasis so her body would begin to assimilate its new nature. It was possible she wouldn’t be up and about the entire day. He thought of going to her quarters but considering the mood he was in, he thought it best to stay away. Not that he was angry with her—he wasn’t—but his heart was aching, his male ego stripped down to the bare wood.

  Turning a corner, he saw two of the trustees ambling toward him and mentally sighed. At the moment they saw him they knew who and what he was and their steps faltered. He took that nanosecond of a moment to probe their minds to see what they were about. Satisfied they weren’t up to no good, he walked past them, ignoring the respectful greeting they sent his way.

  And he did wield enormous respect at Tearmann. If he wasn’t entirely feared by some of the residents, they were wary of him. He was a hunter, a predator and one of their jailers. The Supervisor was the warden of Tearmann but the two Alphas—he and Sorn—were the keepers.

  He stopped, opened his mouth and allowed his Jacobsen’s gland to draw in a new scent that had suddenly appeared. It was unexpected and infuriating. The gods-be-damned baginis was out of her cell again!

  And she was in one of the nearby rooms with a human male in her talons!

  “Shit!” he spat as he changed into his humanoid form. He was going to wring that bitch’s neck once and for all.

  Stalking to the door, he tried to open it but it was locked from the other side. He started to dematerialize but realized there was another stench clogging up his olfactory senses.

  Garlic.

  The conniving bitch had stolen a strand of garlic from the kitchens and had lain it at the bottom of the door to keep him out.

  “Arika!” he shouted. “Open the door!”

  “Fuck you, lulli!” the baginis cackled from the other side.

  “Help me!” a male voice pleaded.

  “I will, sweet meat,” Arika purred. “And you do have some sweet meat.”

  “Problems?”

  Randon didn’t look around. “That fucking baginis.”

  The Supervisor cursed under his breath. “How did she get out this time?”

  “That’s not important right now. She has a human male in there with her.”

  “Then why are you out here demanding her to open the door, Kayle?” the Supervisor snapped. “Get in there.”

  “Garlic,” Randon said, pointing to the bottom of the door.

  “Oh for the love of Pete,” the Supervisor grumbled. He took the security card from around his neck and swiped it down the reader beside the door. Once the lock was disengaged, he opened the door, kicked the garlic away and stepped back to let the Nightwind do his thing.

  “Bastard lulli!” the baginis screeched as Randon bulldozed his way into the room and grabbed her by her long red hair.

  “What did I tell you about calling me that, cunt?” Randon snarled. He pulled her behind him from the room, turned her then began goose stepping her down the corridor. “Who let you out?” He yanked on her hair. “Answer me!”

  Arika yowled but clamped her large mouth shut. She seemed to be getting off on the pain he was causing her and it felt to him as though she wanted it to last.

  The Supervisor entered the room and pursed his lips. A handsome young man whom he knew to be on the kitchen staff was naked in the corner with his trembling hands covering his privates. His white pants and shirt were shredded on the floor at his feet. “Did she—?” He didn’t finish saying the last two words out of respect for the baginis’s victim.

  Shaking his head vigorously, the young man sniffled. “She was about to, though.”

  With a wave of his hand the Supervisor fashioned another set of garments for the shivering male then willed him to forget he’d been snatched up by the creature.

  “Be more careful next time,” he said, planting the seed in the young man’s mind.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Go back to work.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Suddenly very tired, Alexandru Hesar slumped against the wall and dragged a hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. He made a mental note to discuss with his brothers how best to fix the problem with the baginis.

  “Send her to Baybridge.”

  The Supervisor looked to the doorway. Viraiden Cree was standing there, leaned against the jamb with his arms crossed.

  “There is a section of the cells where we have nothing but sexual offenders. If she gets out and gets to them, no one will care and your humans will be out of danger of her affections,” Cree suggested.

  “Then take her over there,” the Supervisor agreed. “She’s getting on my last nerve.”

  “The Nightwind’s too from the sound of it,” Cree said with a chuckle. He pushed away from the jamb. “Any other sexual demons you want me to take with me as well? I’d be happy to take them off your hands.”

  “Not at the moment but thank you. I’ll keep the offer in mind.”

  Cree turned to go.

  “Aiden?”

  The Prime Reaper turned, a brow cock in query.

  “Be careful when you’re with Kerreyder,” the Supervisor said. “I don’t think he’s as he pretends to be.”

  A slow, merciless grin tugged at the corners of the Reaper’s mouth. “Oh, I intend to watch him like the hawk I am,” Cree said.

  * * * * *

  Kenzi woke to the soft sound of falling water. It took some effort but she managed to turn her head. Across the bedroom, the image suite had become a lush waterfall with a profusion of colorful orchids and bromeliads growing along the emerald-green banks of an azure lake. Multi-hued parrots sat in the branches of a beautiful tree that spread its arms over the lake. The scent of jasmine floated in the air.

  He had changed her, she thought as she stared at the lush scene. Her body was tingling and her mind so sharp she could focus on each individual leaf dotting the
tree.

  “Immortal,” he had whispered to her as he held her tightly in his arms.

  The word sent a chill down her back as she thought of its many meanings—endless, perpetual, eternal and everlasting.

  Undying.

  The concept boggled the mind but she accepted it. After all she’d seen at Tearmann it was hard not to accept what she had once thought unbelievable. Magic. Mindboggling creatures. Strange alien technology that made the senses reel and suspended disbelief.

  And she was ready to be a part of all that.

  More than ready.

  Gingerly, she sat up—half expecting her head to spin—and found herself feeling better than she ever had in her life. The brief flares of pain upon arising each morning that she’d experienced from her fibromyalgia were not there. There was no momentary cotton-plugging-the-ears sensation, which had been present since the A-fib diagnosis did not manifest. She swung her legs from the bed and was surprised there was no ache in her right instep or minor complaint from the big toe of that foot in which she’d stripped the tendon after a fall in the bathroom. Her broken tailbone didn’t protest either as she got to her feet.

  All the aches and pains—both minor and annoying—were gone.

  Looking down at her naked body, she was amazed to find the slight roll of fat that was developing at her waist was no longer there. Her breasts felt larger, firmer and her belly flatter. Putting a hand to her hair, it felt fuller, sleeker. Hurrying into the bathroom to the mirror, she sucked in a stunned breath—her eyes widening—for the scar across her forehead had been erased.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” she whispered.

  Turning to get a look at her ass, she was further amazed to find no cellulite, no spare fat back there. Her ass was more rounded than it had ever been and her waist smaller.

  She was the perfect woman she’d always dreamed of being. A woman without extra fat, cellulite, scars, bulges, bumps, lumps or broken veins. There were no aches, no pains and no blemishes. Looking at her face once more, she realized her skin was silky looking, dewy, glowing with health and vitality. Her eyes were gleaming and her lashes longer and thicker. Her lips were fuller and richly colored. She was…

  “Flawless,” she said breathlessly to her reflection.