DarkWind: 2nd Book, WindDemon Trilogy

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  “Here,” Kahmal said as she handed her skean to Cree. “You know more about such things than I.”

  Cree raised one eyebrow in challenge. “Why? I’ve never skinned an animal in my life. Why would I need to? I have what I needed from it.”

  “Please!” Dorrie covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Skinning and gutting are men’s work!” Kahmal said.

  “On your world but not on mine or hers,” Cree pointed out. “Make yourself useful and cut a hunk off the haunch. I’ll thread it on a branch for you to roast.”

  “Arrggghh!” Dorrie gagged. She hurried to the back of the cave and the sounds of her retching seemed to amuse Cree.

  Kahmal clenched her jaw and squatted beside the carcass and began hacking at the hindleg of the musklope.

  The weretiger sidled over to Cree and nudged him with its head. It began to purr when Cree reached out to stroke its head. “Cut him off a piece,” the Reaper ordered. “He’ll make a pest of himself if you don’t.”

  “I should slit its throat,” Kahmal snapped, but she sliced off a piece of the dead animal’s thigh and tossed it to the weretiger.

  “Are you all right, Dorrie?” Cree called out.

  “No.”

  “You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten. I did,” Cree told her.

  Kahmal grinned as Dorrie vomited again. She cast the Reaper a quick look and shook her head at him. “You are an evil man, Kamerone Cree.”

  “But one with a full belly,” he said and laughed aloud when Dorrie begged him to stop saying such things.

  Lying on its stomach, the weretiger chewed contentedly on the bloody meat it held in its paws. His cloudy vision slid from the male to the larger of the two females then back again to the male.

  “No, she belongs to me, too. You’ll have to find one of your own kind,” Cree said.

  Kahmal looked up from her work in time to hear the werebeast whine. She saw the Reaper frown. “What did it say?” she asked.

  Cree turned his face to the fire. “His mate was killed. He’s alone here. There are no more of his kind on the Vex.”

  The Amazeen shifted her gaze to the weretiger. “Sorry,” she said, looking into its sad brown eyes.

  “He’d be happy to have you to mate if you’d stop glowering at him, though.”

  Kahmal blinked, realized he was teasing then pursed her lips. “Let him have Dorrie. You don’t need both of us.”

  The moment she said it, the Amazeen warrioress could have bitten her tongue. She could not look at him though she knew he was staring at her. Her face was burning with shame and if there had been a hole into which she could have crawled, she would gladly have made the trek.

  “If Alel is willing,” he said. “I will spend the rest of my life here.”

  She refused to look up from her work. “We’ll have to make sure Chakia doesn’t find you then.”

  He didn’t reply. When she risked a glance at him, she saw he had lain down beside the fire, the weretiger at his side. He was rubbing the beast’s back as it licked its chops.

  “We’ll have to find you some clothes,” she muttered.

  “Does my nakedness offend you, ‘Kadia?”

  The Amazeen Major snorted and flung him an exasperated look. It was bad enough that he was lying there naked as the day he was born, his manly attributes in full view. Knowing he was as unperturbed about it as she was bothered added heat to the flames in her cheeks.

  “We prefer to keep our men naked,” she responded. “It keeps them humble.”

  “It would be hard to humble my kind, Major.”

  “Yet you allowed the Terran woman to humble you, Reaper.” She wished she’d kept her mouth shut for she could see from his look that her jealousy had registered.

  He stared at her for a long time then turned his attention to the leaping flames of the fire. His body had warmed sufficiently and combined with the fullness in his belly and the satiation of his parasite, he was growing sleepy.

  “I suppose I will need to spit this gods-be-damned meat, too,” Kahmal said, hiding her embarrassment behind the façade of insult.

  “Do you want me to do it?” he asked.

  She ignored him and took up a branch and began to whittle the end into a sharp point so she could pierce the meet. Her hands were slick with the beast’s blood but she managed to keep a tight grip on the skean as she worked.

  He watched her attack the end of the wood and decided he would not wish to engage this one in a test of weapons. She handled the wicked blade as though born to it and her strength was evident in the way she moved. He laced his fingers and put his hands behind his head.

  “Do you have a man on Amazeen?”

  “No,” she snapped and laid the skean aside to thrust the sharpened branch through the meat.

  “With your rank you could have as many as you want, couldn’t you?”

  She held the spitting meat over the flames. “Who said I wanted even one?”

  “You want me.”

  Her jaws clenched tightly, she kept her eyes on the meat as it began to sizzle.

  “You are thinking of staying here,” he said softly, “but that would not be wise.”

  She looked up, her gaze belligerent. “Why?”

  “Because I will never be to you what you want me to be.”

  “She is on the other side of the universe from you, Reaper!”

  “She is right here,” he said, placing his hand on his chest. “And there she will always be.”

  Tears filled Akkadia Kahmal’s green eyes then spilled down her ivory cheeks. She batted them away, smearing her face with blood. “Do you realize what I gave up in coming after you?” she said, her lips trembling.

  He nodded. “Aye and if Sejm has anything to say about it, you will pay with your life for the feelings you are having right now.”

  “I don’t care!”

  He smiled sadly. “But I do,” he said. “I took the life of one of the daughters of your house, I do not wish to be the cause of another losing hers.”

  She held her hand out to him. “Please,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I...”

  The weretiger lifted its head and growled.

  Cree sat up, turning toward the cave entrance. “Company,” he said in a low voice. He got to his feet. “Two females.”

  Dorrie came to the fire wiping the back of her hand over her trembling lips. “Someone from the ship?”

  “I doubt there are other humanoids on the Vex,” Cree answered. He looked down at the weretiger. Silent communication passed between the two. “No other humanoids now, but several were here not long before we arrived.” A look of pain crossed his face. “One was a Reaper.”

  “Your bloodson,” said Kahmal and saw him flinch.

  “I will lead the females away from here,” he said.

  Revived by the meat but still weak from its long bout of hunger and sickness, the werebeast stumbled to its feet.

  “No,” Cree said. “Stay here. Protect our women.”

  The weretiger whimpered.

  “Stay,” Cree repeated firmly. “You are in no condition to fight.” He looked up at Kahmal. “Protect him and he will protect you.”

  She nodded, trying not to stare at the Reaper’s unclothed chest. “Don’t hurt them if you don’t have to.”

  Cree said nothing and before either Kahmal or Dorrie could bid him be careful, he was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sern and Chanz followed the trail leading away from the cave and realized in the near-whiteout conditions, they might well be moving back toward the desert for the air was getting warmer. They stopped, cupping their mouths in order to shout at one another over the howling wind.

  “Does it seem we’ve passed this rock stand before?” Sern inquired, leaning heavily on her laser pike.

  “Aye and that drift looks familiar.”

  “We’re going in circles.”

  “Being led in circles!” Chanz corrected. She put a hand over her eyes an
d tried to see through the blowing snow but the glare was more than she could stand. “We might as well look for shelter and wait for the snow to pass.”

  Sern agreed. She pointed off to their left. “Let’s try over there!”

  Perched atop a rocky crag only ten feet away, Cree watched the women stumble toward what he knew was a steep drop off. It had been there that he had brought down the musklope. For a second or two the beast within him reigned, hoping the females would fall over the embankment and to their deaths three hundred feet below. That would mean two less captors to worry about and two less laser pikes aimed at his hide. But the humanoid part of him that had been awakened by Bridget Dunne’s love, would not allow such evil to happen.

  He leapt down from the rocks and landed directly in front of the women, plucking the pikes from their hands before they realized who was confronting them. Neither had a chance to react as he threw the pikes over the embankment. But he wasn’t fast enough to still the hand of Melankhoia Chanz and the razor-sharp skean she drew across his naked belly.

  Steam rose from the snow as the Reaper’s black blood gushed from the gaping slit and hit the ground. He slapped a hand to the wound, turned and sprinted away.

  “By the goddess!” Sern whispered. “He was right on top of us!”

  “Look!” Chanz said, pointing to the spot where they would have fallen had they continued on.

  The harsh wind buffeting the women pushed them forward toward the drop off. Both scrambled back, hearts thundering in their chest.

  “He saved our lives,” Sern yelled.

  “Attribution,” Chanz agreed. She looked down at the skean in her hand and let it fall into the snow.

  “We can follow him,” Sern shouted. Dark blotches stained the snow where the Reaper’s black blood had melted holes.

  Chanz nodded and the two set out after the bleeding man.

  He cursed all the way back to the cave. The wound in his belly had healed by the time he finally ducked into the entrance, but the humiliation at having allowed one of the women to take a swipe at him was still fresh and raw.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Too slow. You were too slow and not paying attention!”

  He knew it was more than that, though. He hadn’t been concerned about his own safety but rather the women’s. He had allowed their predicament to cloud his judgment and he’d reacted without thinking things through.

  “You’re getting soft, Cree,” he chastised himself. “If you aren’t careful, you’ll die on this godsforsaken rock!”

  Muttering to himself as he reached Kahmal and Dorrie, he stalked over to the sizzling meat, grabbed it up and pointed it at the women. “Let’s go!”

  Staring at the caked blood on the Reaper’s hips and thighs, Kahmal hurried to him, looking for the wound that would have caused so much blood.

  “What happened?” she demanded, reaching out to him.

  “I said let’s go, woman!”

  The werebeast growled, its hackles raised and its fangs bared. It stood on shaky legs facing the cave entrance and let out another low, warning growl.

  “ Desea hunof aist! ” echoed back to them from the cave entrance.

  “Wait!” Kahmal insisted as Cree took her arm and tried to pull her along. She jerked free of his hold. “That was Melankhoia’s voice!”

  “I know whose voice it was!” Cree snapped. “The bitch cut me.”

  “ Desea hunof aist! ” came the voice again.

  “What is she saying?” Dorrie asked.

  “Peace be unto you,” Kahmal translated. “It is the Amazeen equivalent of begging quarter.”

  “Quarter, hell! She cut me!” He rubbed a hand over his belly. “Deep!”

  Kahmal spared him a look. “You’re fine now and she’s asking for quarter. She wouldn’t do that unless you...” She stared at him. “Did you save her life, too?”

  “The knife-wielding bitch would have walked off the gods-be-damned cliff if I hadn’t!”

  “Attribution!” Kahmal whooped and before Cree could stop her, was running toward the cave entrance.

  “Looks like you did it again, Reaper,” said Dorrie.

  “She cut me.”

  Dorrie looked down at the spot he was rubbing. “Not where it counts. You’ve still got your dangly.”

  Cree’s face turned dark. He rolled his eyes at her crude remark and stumped over to the fire. “I need some gods-be-damned clothes to hide me from your ogling.”

  “I like you the way you are, Kami.”

  The Reaper was about to warn her against using that name when Kahmal and the two women who had been tracking them entered the cave.

  “Fire!” Cirolia Sern exclaimed and made for the warmth of the flames. She cast a look at the werebeast but did not appear to be concerned with its presence. Hunkering down in front of the heat, she spread her hands and sighed.

  “Your lives are his?” Kahmal inquired of Chanz.

  “Aye,” Chanz acknowledged, “but we weren’t after him anyway. We were looking for you.” She looked into her friend’s eyes. “Chakia and the Chalean hag want your blood, ‘Kadia.”

  “I figured as much,” Kahmal said.

  Chanz looked Cree in the eye. “I ask your pardon, milord. I reacted before I realized you meant us no harm.”

  “You sliced me open,” accused the Reaper.

  “From this day forward, I will protect your life with my own.”

  “I don’t want your pledges or your lives,” said Cree in an exasperated tone. “By the gods, I don’t need that kind of pressure!”

  “He likes being the one in charge. Don’t insult his male ego by offering to protect his bare ass.”

  Sern looked around. “Where are his clothes?” Her scrutiny crawled over the naked Reaper as she sat down. “Not that I’m complaining about the view.”

  “Don’t,” he warned with a glower that made the Amazeen look away.

  “What is happening back there?”

  “They’ll be out when the weather calms,” Chanz reported. “Chakia sent Deon to the ship to track your position.”

  “I didn’t think of that. She’ll be able to pinpoint where we are!”

  “Not without a functioning transpositioner she won’t.” Sern chuckled and held out her hand out to the werebeast. “Come here, sweeting.”

  Cree folded his arms and stared at Sern. The woman allowed the weretiger to sniff her fingers, even lick them. He cocked one thick dark brow when the beast lay down beside the Amazeen and laid its head in her lap.

  “You sabotaged the transpositioner array?” asked Kahmal.

  “Do Diabolusians smell?” Sern looked at Cree. “He’s been sick, but he’ll be fine now. He’s claimed me as his. He says you won’t mind since you have the other two.”

  Cree’s eyebrows shot up. “You can understand him?”

  Sern shrugged. “I have the ‘voice’ with animals.”

  “If I remember the weather patterns on the Vex,” said Kahmal, “the snow in the ice fields lasts from the tenth to the fourth rotation. That means we could hide here for as long as we have food and water. When the snow stops, we can move deeper into the cave system and keep moving until Chakia gives up.”

  “They won’t wait until the snow stops,” Chanz disagreed. “They want to get him back in time to see his bloodsons executed.”

  The Reaper’s gaze jerked to Chanz. “Explain!”

  “On the Feast of Alluvia, less than a month away, they will take what is left of your bloodsons to the cage and-”

  “No!” Cree shouted, his amber eyes glowing red for a moment. He strode toward her, his hands clenched into fists. “I cannot allow that! I will not allow it!” He turned his furious stare to Kahmal. “Why did you not tell me about this?”

  “I did not tell you because there was nothing you could do about it,” Kahmal said. “As originally planned, you were to be made to watch your bloodsons burn then you would have been executed. But now, with the Attribution...”

  “I will not
allow this!” he bellowed.

  “And how do you plan to prevent it, Cree?” asked Kahmal.

  The warrior part of Kamerone Cree that had lain dormant since his flight from Rysalia Prime awakened with a bloody vengeance. His amber stare was brutal as he shifted his eyes from one woman to the next.

  “I saved the life of each of you,” he said, his voice eerily quiet. “Therefore your lives belong to me. Is that not so?”

  Chanz nodded. “Aye, milord, that is true.”

  “Then you are obliged to do as I ask, are you not?”

  “Not necessarily,” said Kahmal. Cree swung his livid glower toward her and she cleared her throat. “In a manner of speaking, aye.”

  “And if I can take that ship, will you help me fly her to Rysalia Prime?”

  “For what purpose?” Kahmal asked, but she already knew.

  “To save the lives of my bloodsons and take them beyond the reach of the Multitude.”

  “There is no such place,” Chanz said.

  “There is Terra.”

  “They are Reapers!” protested Kahmal.

  “I am Prime Reaper. I can control them if that is what worries you.”

  “I am sure you can, but...”

  “Help me,” he asked, his eyes filled with pleading. “These are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. I can not allow them to die as my cousins died in that hellish cage.” He took a step toward her. “Please.”

  It was the please that melted the last of the ice around Kahmal’s heart. “You play dirty, Reaper.”

  “If we help you, we will never be able to go home,” Chanz said. “We will have to go with you to Terra.”

  “That is a given. Although the men on Terra will not be as tame as what you are used to.”

  Chanz and Kahmal frowned, but Cirolia Sern brightened. “Good! If that’s the case, then Deon will join us. She has no love for Chakia anyway and loathes the Chalean. My guess is Renata and Cedilla will help as well. They will honor the Attribution.”

  “We can leave Chakia and Sejm here,” said Kahmal. “It would be a fitting punishment for the both of them.”

  “But this one we will take with us,” Sern said, nuzzling the weretiger’s fur.

  “How can you breathe that creature’s stench, Cir?” Chanz asked, fanning the air.