The Nightwind's Woman

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “What the hell is that thing?” one of them asked. He had a bright-red beard that hung halfway down his chest. The scruffy thing was tied up at intervals with green rubber bands.

  Since the minds of the men would be wiped clean before Sorn and the Nightwind departed, Randon told them exactly what it was they were gaping at.

  “Part human and part lizard,” he said. “From a galaxy far, far away.”

  “Fuck you, man,” Beard Guy said. “Is she some kind of circus freakazoid?”

  “As good an explanation as you’re gonna get,” Sorn said. “Just get the thing on the plane and keep your comments to yourself.”

  The tallest of the four cargo handlers stepped up. “Look, dude,” the guy said. “We didn’t sign on to kidnap no woman. She could be like the elephant man for all we know.” He glanced at his buddies who nodded in agreement. “This here has illegal stamped all over it.”

  “That’s a circus animal or one of them things from Ripley’s Believe It or Not,” another man spoke up. “Either way, ain’t right. Ain’t lawful.”

  “But if we give you boys an extra Benjamin you’ll forget you ever saw her, huh?” Sorn inquired.

  “Benjamin, my ass,” Beard Guy said. “You’d better be thinking more along the lines of an additional two Bennies a piece.”

  “How ’bout we don’t give you fuck,” Randon said. He was in the guy’s face before he could step back, his dark gaze going straight into the man’s mind. “You hear me?”

  “Hey man!” Tall Guy complained. “Ain’t no call to get hostile.”

  “Son, you ain’t seen hostile yet,” Sorn said. He snaked out a hand and took the guy by the scruff of the neck, lifted him a foot off the ground and shook him like a terrier. “How’s this for hostile?” His eyes bored into Tall Guy with the same intensity Beard Guy was getting from the Nightwind. He extended his fangs with a merciless smirk.

  The other two men moved back as though they were getting ready to turn tail and run. Most likely they would have had if Sorn and Kayle had not tossed the men in their grasps aside and lunged after them.

  On the steps of the plane, the pilot—and the flight attendant—looked on as the two Alphas took care of business. They’d worked with the Consortium long enough to know not to interfere or even comment. When the civilians were brought back into line, they turned and went back into the plane. Neither paid much attention as the cage was brought on board and stored aft.

  “Wheels up in fifteen,” the pilot told Randon.

  The Nightwind nodded and flung himself into a seat. Normally he wouldn’t have gone back with the Reaper but he was tired and he’d had no Sustenance in the last two days. The stench of the Saurian had given him a brutal headache and he just wanted to close his eyes and rest. He paid no attention to Sorn, taking the seat across from him. Neither of them watched the four civilians deplane. There was no reason to. As soon as their feet hit the ground, the four men would remember nothing of what they’d seen or done in reference to the strange cage and the even stranger creature housed within.

  As the G-4 began its roll down the runway, the incubus laid his head on the back of his seat and curled his hands around the chair arms. He intensely disliked the feeling of the takeoff. Why he couldn’t say. According to Kerreyder, nothing would happen to him even if the jet crashed and burned everything on it—including him—to a crisp. He wasn’t worried about death because he couldn’t die. Centuries ago he had longed for it as he lay submerged in the filth and piss of the Abyss. The archdemon had rendered him immortal before leaving Tearmann with just a wave of his hand. Now death was nothing more than an abstract thought.

  “Wonder how the Prime is doing with Kerreyder?” Sorn said, interrupting.

  “He’s probably wanting to stomp the shit out of the archdemon the same way I want to stomp the shit out of you,” Randon mumbled. “Now shut up and leave me be.”

  “Oh fuck you, incubus,” Sorn said. “No one can carry on a casual conversation with you without you acting like an ass, can they?”

  Randon opened his eyes and turned them to the Reaper. “I don’t like you, Sorn. Why in the name of the gods would I want to talk to you?”

  Sorn clenched his jaw. Although he didn’t look away from the stony glare coming from the Nightwind the Panthera completely shut down. His own rigid glower turned the air in the plane as frigid as an arctic clime. After fifteen minutes of intense staring, it was Randon who dropped his gaze.

  “I’m pissed, okay?” he mumbled.

  “About?”

  Randon cursed under his breath. “What do you think?”

  The Reaper’s forehead creased then slowly relaxed. “You mean your lady.”

  Turning his attention to the window beside him, Randon put a crooked finger to the glass. “I’ve waited centuries for her. Now she’s here and I have to share her with Abaddon? It turns my stomach.” He glanced around. “What if she gets pregnant by him?”

  Sorn shook his head. “Doubt that could happen,” he said. “I did some research on him and as far as anyone knows, he has no offspring slithering around out there.”

  “As far as anyone knows,” Randon stressed.

  Shrugging, Sorn unbuckled his seatbelt as the plane leveled off and a melodious ping sounded through the cabin. “Can you get her pregnant?”

  Randon winced. “Only if I transform into a female and steal the sperm from some unsuspecting bastard.”

  The Reaper’s eyebrows shot up. “You can do that?”

  “Aye,” Randon growled. “I can do that.”

  “Kewl beans,” Sorn said and when the incubus shot him a nasty look, he cocked a shoulder. “Not kewl beans?”

  “No,” Randon stated. “Not cool. How would you like to change into a woman, lie beneath a man and have him thrusting into you? Taking and holding his cum inside you until you can turn back into a male and deposit it into your female?”

  Sorn grimaced. “I see what you mean.”

  “I don’t think Kenzi has ever contemplated having children,” Randon said. “I’ve never intercepted such notions in her dreams. If she doesn’t want kids, that’s okay, but if she does?” He laid his head against the cool glass. “If she does, then I’ve got a problem.”

  “Unless the archdemon can provide her with one,” Sorn said softly.

  “Aye and if he does, that’s a tie to him I’d just as soon she not have.”

  “I can understand that,” Sorn said. “My life-mate wants children but I’m not sure I do so in a way, you and I are in different boats on the same choppy lake.”

  “At least you don’t have an anchor tied around your neck,” Randon said. “If I fuck up one time, that son of a bitch could send me back to the Abyss.”

  “Then don’t fuck up,” Sorn said. “Mind your Ps and Qs and bide your time until he goes back to Treigeilys.”

  “Aye,” the Nightwind said with sigh. “What other choice do I have?”

  Sorn got up to go to the head so Randon turned his eyes to the passing crazy quilt colors of land passing slowly beneath the black wing of the jet. He had no idea at what elevation they were flying but he could see miniature cars traveling down winding roads and caught the glint of sunlight sparking from silo roofs. In the distance was some body of water he suspected was the Mississippi River.

  Sighing, he closed his eyes once more and thought back to his childhood when things were so normal, so every day, so…

  Human.

  He’d learned to swim at an early age and spent as much time as his chores would allow him swimming in the crystal-blue waters of Lake Endurie on his home world of Bandar with his friends Uri and Jaspan. The three of them had been thick as thieves and kept mostly to themselves—away from the older boys in the compound.

  As had Uri and Jaspan, he had been taken from his mother at the tender age of five years. Along with all the males of age on his world he had been cloistered in the Southern Zone where males were trained to serve the females of their race. Little more than
servants and breeding stock, the males were second-class citizens on Bandar. They had no rights and could be bought and sold like cattle, mutilated on a whim.

  They could also be put to death for daring to break any law set down by the Hell-hags—just as he had.

  He could not remember a time when he was not subservient to some female or another. The only time he’d known any freedom had been while diving and swimming in the waters of Lake Endurie.

  Opening his eyes, he smiled for the plane was traveling with the serpentine rust-colored waters of the Mississippi snaking beneath it. He traced the path of the river with his knuckle against the window glass.

  “Excuse me, milord?”

  He looked up at the flight attendant.

  “May I get you anything, milord?” she asked, her smile a bit leery.

  “Spicy V-8?” he inquired and as her smile solidified, he tried one of his own.

  That seemed to shock her for she blinked and froze a moment like a deer in headlights. Her lips twitched—as did her eyelids—then her chin quivered.

  “And a bag of pretzels to go with?” he asked in as soft and seductive a voice as he had in his arsenal.

  “Of course, milord,” she said with a blush then hurried away to fetch the beverage.

  He wondered why women found his smile so surprising. He knew he was a handsome man. Lilith had made it so. Maybe it was the reputation he had for being a badass at Tearmann. The prisoners and wards there disliked him but that was to be expected considering the job he had been given at the facility. He had to be tough, all business.

  Sorn came back to his seat and plopped down, shooting out his long legs into the aisle. In his hand was a magazine he’d most likely found in the head. Crossing his booted ankles, he opened the Entertainment Weekly and began reading.

  Women liked Sorn, he thought, and he had to admit the Reaper was a handsome warrior. All bulky muscles, flat abs and if the bulge in the front of his black uniform pants was genuine, the man had everything a woman could desire. From the thick, curly black hair and deep-green eyes, to the muscled thighs barely restrained by the pant fabric, Darkyn Sorn was a prime example of Alpha male. Now that he had met his life-mate, he was officially off the market but that would not keep women from staring at him and flirting unmercifully with the Reaper.

  Snorting quietly, Randon tore his gaze from the man across the aisle. Women didn’t flirt with him and they avoided staring at him for once their eyes met Randon’s, they were quick to divert their attention from him.

  “Must be some vibe I give off without knowing it,” he muttered.

  “Huh?” Sorn asked, lowering the magazine.

  Randon shook his head. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  “First sign of senility, incubus,” Sorn said and raised the magazine again.

  “Fuck you,” Randon said, but it was more reflex than irritation that made him toss out the insult.

  Sorn responded on cue, flipping a page. “Right back ’atcha.”

  * * * * *

  Following the Thompson River near Kamloops, British Columbia

  “Looks like we need to cross over into Alberta,” Kerreyder said after learning two more hikers had disappeared. “I’m thinking the pack is somewhere in the Jasper National Park.”

  “Aye,” Cree agreed. “How many does that make now?”

  “Nine males and four females,” the archdemon answered. “I doubt we’ll ever find any trace of them. We need to locate that pack before any more people go missing.”

  The Prime Reaper dragged a hand through his hair. “The colder it gets, the more active the adlets will get. They’ll be storing food for winter.”

  Food meant human flesh and that disturbed Cree in more ways than one.

  The adlet pup stared avidly at the two males as they moved through the underbrush. He was downwind of the men so they could not scent him but he had scented them. One had the stench of something unknown but the other was lupine—a distant cousin to the beasts in his pack. Their presence confused the pup for he knew these men were not prey. He sensed they were far more dangerous than the human fare that found its way into the bellies of the pack and thus should be watched carefully.

  As quietly as possible, he kept pace with the males while keeping himself hidden from view. At his age he was allowed only to seek out prey, never engage in the active chase. The hunters—usually the Alpha and his breeding mate—would go after the quarry once a pup had located it and the pups would share in the leftovers from the kill after the adults had their share. Of late, the fare had been very special. Very special indeed and very tasty. As the eldest pup of his family, he was well trained but tired of his role in the pack.

  Aching to make a kill of his own, to be blooded, the pup continued to track the unknown males. He moved diagonally across their path, careful not to be heard or seen or scented. Now and again he would still as the lupine raised his head and sniffed the air. Once the lupine was on the move again, the pup shadowed him. It would be a coup to bring such a one to ground, to leave him bleeding out from the tear in his jugular. He reasoned he could easily snap the neck of the other male then race back to the den to alert the Alpha of his find.

  Smiling to himself, he sustained his surveillance, waiting for the right moment to attack.

  “There is a young one observing us,” Kerreyder said quietly.

  “Aye, I’ve caught sight of the little turd,” Cree replied. “Thirteen, maybe fourteen winters old. At that age where he’s starting to smell his pee as my lady-wife would say.”

  “My guess too,” the archdemon agreed. “Think the mini-prick will attack?”

  “From the stink of the adrenalin he’s giving off in waves, aye, he will. He’s trying to get up the courage to do so.” The Reaper grinned. “You he’s not worried about but he’s not so sure of me.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  Cree stopped, put his hands to the small of his back as though it were hurting him and stretched. “I want him to lead us to his den,” he answered. “The best way to do that is for me to Transition.”

  Kerreyder chuckled. “In other words scare the shit out of him.”

  “I doubt he’s ever seen a dearg duls but he’s gods-be-damned heard tales of us. He’s in for a treat.” He sat down on the ground and began pulling off his boots.

  The pup frowned. The lupine was removing his footwear. Did that mean he was going to shift into wolf form? That didn’t concern him—adlets were a hundred times more powerful than their werewolf cousins. Larger, faster, stronger. More vicious. They could be brought down easily by an adult adlet but he wasn’t sure he could take the male down in werewolf form. Human form? Aye, not a problem but in werewolf form, the male might prove too much for him. It might be best he lead the pair toward the den where the adult males—or even the females—could take them with ease.

  Watching the lupine rid himself of his clothing proved to be unsettling. The male was powerfully built with a massive, thickly furred chest. Bulging arm muscles and thick thighs gave mute evidence the male was in the prime of his fighting form. Seeing him so revealed, the pup grew ever more uneasy and the decision to lead the males to the den was cemented in his young mind.

  But before he could draw their attention, the lupine shifted and with the change came a beast the likes of which the pup had never seen except in nightmares.

  Standing at least six and a half feet tall, the creature dropped to all fours. Its considerable haunches and powerful shoulders lay beneath rippling thick, coarse fur as black as midnight. Red eyes glowed above a muzzle that was filled with double rows of sharp fangs that dripped with saliva. A growl that made the hair on the pup’s arms stand to attention came out of that massive chest. Huge paws ended in long, thick claws that looked sharper than any he’d ever encountered. When the beast’s head slowly turned toward him and those crimson eyes locked on to his position, the pup whimpered and pissed himself.

  He turned tail and ran, changing into adlet form
as he sprinted as fast as he could through the undergrowth. He could hear the beast closing in, crashing through the bushes like a juggernaut. He stumbled at one point and felt something nip his ass. He yelped but dared not turn to confront what had bit him.

  He didn’t need to. He could feel the hot breath of the dearg duls—aye, that was exactly what this beast was!—breathing down his neck.

  Kerreyder loped behind the Reaper and his prey. He had changed into a cheetah for that was his favorite animal into which to shift. It was also the fastest land animal on this world and it was a deadly predator of adlets on any world. For some reason, adlets feared felines. They believed cats devoured the souls of their victims.

  So be it. He would scare the shit out of them but he’d be willing to bet they were going to fear Viraiden Cree even more.

  * * * * *

  Wylym Cumhaucht came out of the fissure in the overhang of the south-facing riverside cliff and yawned, scratched his immense belly and looked about the motley collection of beaten-down adlets. None of them dared meet his eye. He cocked his upper lip into a sneer of disdain.

  “Living on the government dole,” he grumbled. He had no respect for the pack and especially not for the adlet who had feebly growled in protest when the brothers Cumhaucht had invaded his territory. Wylym cut his eyes to that poor excuse for a predator, grinning at the memory of the pussy rolling over to expose his belly to a creature of superior strength and guile. The former Alpha cast down his head, covered his canines with tight lips and lowered his head in submission as he slinked away.

  Behind him in the den, Wylym heard the adlet females he had taken as his own snarling as they fought over what was left of the last hiker he and his brother had killed. He had serviced the bitches well and come early spring, there would be at least a dozen pups slurping at their mothers’ teats.

  Oylevehr, Wylym’s twin, was in his den fucking the eldest daughter of the former Alpha. He had fought the bitch’s mate for her and had won. So vicious had been the fight, the hapless mate had not survived. The other males in the pack were terrified of Oylevehr—and with good reason—for he was vicious and brutal and not quite sane. The females found him irresistible for his sheer male beauty hid the pure evil that was in his festering soul.