“She’s going to be needed here when we get inside the mansion,” Coulter said. He glanced around at the other Reapers. “There are only four of us who have flight capability. Cree and I need to stay so that means either you, Saur or Wynth.”
“It was my idea,” Saur said. “I’ll go but it’ll take me at least four hours to get there and back. It’ll be morning by then.”
“Then we’ll wait to go in tomorrow night,” Cree said. “I doubt one day will make a difference.”
“Will this trastacáin harm humans?” Coulter asked.
“No but it will give them one helluva headache and some severe disorientation when you wake,” Fallon answered.
“That might work in our favor,” Coulter said. “General Dexter will be more susceptible to the Banshee’s interrogation.”
“I don’t know why we needed her along anyway,” Fallon grumbled. “We all read minds. We could interrogate him just as well if not better than her.”
“Are you on the rag, Fallon?” Cree snapped. “If you don’t stop that incessant whining and complaining, I’m going to knock those pearly white fangs down your throat. Knock. It. Off.”
Fallon clamped his lips together.
“I don’t think he wants to be here,” Wynth said softly to Sorn.
“He has a problem with Coulter and the Banshee,” Sorn replied.
“Truth told, I have a problem with the Banshee too,” Belial stated. “Wynd was a friend of mine.”
“Fallon’s as well and he doesn’t have many friends,” Sorn reported. “Taylor Reynaud is one.”
“Ah,” Belial said. “Now I see why he doesn’t like Coulter.” He frowned. “But nothing happened between him and Tay’s woman. Did it?”
“Not really but Fallon can hold a grudge longer than anyone I know,” Sorn replied. “I—” He looked around as the Banshee suddenly appeared behind them.
“I told you to stay in the van,” Cree said.
“I want to say something and I want you to hear me and hear me well,” Skylar said. “I loved Wyndom Coure. I did not fake my leaving. Morrigunia did that because I had given Wynd a child.” She raised her head. “A little girl.”
“Who the fuck was the father?” Fallon demanded, eyes mean.
“Wynd.”
“Bullshit,” Fallon said. “No Reaper can give his woman a girl child!”
“I could,” Sorn said. “Taylor could.” He shrugged. “Any Panthera could.”
“Aye, well Wynd wasn’t a fucking cat!” Fallon said. “He was Lupine.”
“And that’s why She took our daughter,” Skylar said. “Took her away from us the moment she was born.”
“Why?” Belial asked and when Fallon and Cree both would have protested, he held up his hand. “Let the woman speak. I want to hear her explanation.”
“She took our daughter because she wasn’t a male,” Skylar said. “No Reaper of hers was going to produce a female. That is part of the geasa Morrigunia placed on you men. We should have known the baby was a female because from the moment I conceived until the babe slid from my thighs Wynd’s hellion gave him nothing but pain for hours—days—on end! It hated me and it hated our child.”
“For what reason?” Belial asked.
“Because I was responsible for the baby’s creation,” she said, biting back a sob.
“The male determines a baby’s sex,” Cree reminded her.
“Banshees can only produce female children,” Wynth said and all eyes turned to him. “My brother Kasin was captured by the Banshee. They held him four years before he managed to escape. In that time he fathered dozens of children—all females. He was told the reason was because Banshees have the ability to change the sex of the child in the womb.” He cocked a shoulder. “They didn’t tell him how but Kasin was one of nine brothers. Our father was one of fourteen. What are the odds that out of that many children he sired there would not be a single boy?”
“Surely Morrigunia would have known that,” Fallon said. “Why mate such a being with a Reaper if She wanted only a male child?”
“Banshees are known for their savagery, for their lack of compassion and remorselessness” Wynth said. “I imagine She thought She could breed a Reaper warrior who was even fiercer than we already are.”
“It didn’t work,” Skylar said. “What She got was anathema to Her. She took our child and then She took me from Wynd.”
“Punishing him for not producing a male child and punishing you for the same reason,” Belial said.
“That sounds like Her,” Cree mumbled.
“I would never have left Wynd if I had been given the chance,” Skylar said, lifting her chin. “I loved him. He was my heart. She could not kill me so She put me in limbo with no intention of ever bringing me out.” She looked at Coulter. “She didn’t count on Wynd’s hellion being given to another.”
“And even though that hellion never knew you, it somehow knew you were its host’s life-mate,” Belial said. “It wanted you.”
“So it woke me,” she said. “It brought me out of the deep slumber into which She’d placed me. She was ordered to bring me here to the man hosting Wynd’s hellion.”
“Ordered by whom?” Cree asked.
“My guess is Her husband, the Father-God,” Wynth said. “He who created the Shadowlords.” He looked at Coulter. “And Coulter is a Shadowlord.”
Skylar’s lip rose. “If it was His thought to make me this man’s life-mate, He miscalculated. There will be no pairing between us.”
“So you say,” Belial says. “If the Father-God wishes it, I doubt what you think and say will matter much.”
“I will not mate with any man!” she hissed. As angry as she was at that statement at least she had the presence of mind not to shout for the noise would bring men from the compound down on their heads.
“Lady, I’m not going to foist myself off on you,” Coulter said. “If that’s what you think I’ll disabuse you of that notion right now. I’m not that hard up that I have to rape a woman.”
Fallon snorted. He opened his mouth but Cree clamped a hand on Fallon’s shoulder and dug his fingers in hard enough to make Fallon wince.
“Don’t say it,” Cree warned.
“Well, I’ve said what I needed to,” Skylar said. “I do not want any of you men…” She gave Fallon a brutal look. “Thinking I betrayed my Wyndom. I did not. If it were possible, I would have followed him in death but my punishment was in having him taken from me. If you were his friends, honor his memory by honoring the woman he loved.”
That said, she turned her back on them and headed back to the van. For a long moment no one spoke then Coulter spiked his hand through his hair.
“We can’t do anything here tonight. Let’s get back to the motel and come back tomorrow night when Saur has brought the trastacáin.”
“I could use a good night’s rest,” Belial said.
“We all could,” Wynth agreed.
Wynth, Sorn and Belial left Cree, Coulter and Fallon standing together in the clearing.
“Do we give her a chance or not?” Cree asked.
“I’m willing to,” Coulter replied. “She and I haven’t been given a choice about whether or not to work together. If she’s good at her job—and I doubt we’d have been paired if she wasn’t—that’s all that counts.”
Cree and Coulter looked to Fallon.
“Whatever,” the Hell-hound said and turned on his heel, stomping back down the trail to the van.
Cree put his hands on his hips, hung his head and sighed audibly.
“That man doesn’t have a stick up his ass,” Coulter said with a sigh. “He has a fucking redwood tree.”
“He’s never going to forgive you,” Cree said. “That’s the Hell-hound way.”
“I can live with that but if he keeps on pushing, he and I are going to have words,” Coulter warned.
“Works for me,” Cree said. He too turned and headed back.
* * * * *
Jee An Ayr
, the Father-God, hovered over the room Coulter shared with Belial and watched the Gravelord sleeping fitfully. No Reaper ever slept peacefully and sleep was always sporadic for them. They did not sleep well because the hellion never rested. It was always on alert, guarding its host. When it moved, the Reaper stirred to wakefulness—if only momentarily—and it made for a restless slumber.
Though He could not interfere with His lady-wife’s creations, He could manipulate His own. He floated down to Coulter’s bed and reached out to lay a calming hand on the young man’s head. Instantly, Coulter quietened and fell into a deep sleep from which he would awaken refreshed.
Smoothing His hand over Coulter’s head, the Father-God drew into Himself all the memories of Coulter’s impoverished, soul-deadening childhood. There had never been love in the young man’s short life and those who took him to their bodies only did so because he was handsome and virile—not because they wanted a relationship with him.
“Sad,” Jee An Ayr said. “So sad.” He eased back a lock of tumbled hair. “You deserve so much more, My Gravelord.”
And the Father-God would see he received it. He might not be able to influence the nasty little hellion glaring up at him through the young man’s flesh, but He could sway the other faction in the arrangement. After one last look at Coulter, Jee An Ayr floated up through the ceiling and down five rooms before sinking through that ceiling to stand beside the bed of the Banshee.
The girl was lovely, He thought. She lay on her back with her long polished-silver hair fanned over her pillow like silk and cascading off the side of the bed to just touch the floor. Though her silver eyes were closed, Jee An Ayr could imagine their bright sheen that could turn flame-red when she was angry. The paleness of her skin—even the light color of her full lips—made her body almost fade into the whiteness of the sheets. He cast His eyes to the white gauzy dress—the uniform of her species—laying draped over a chair and smiled. The woman slept naked in her bed and He was curious about what lay under the mound of the sheet.
That sheet drifted down her tall body to pool at the foot of the bed. Jee An Ayr sighed. Even the patch of hair at her thighs was so pale it blended in with her flesh. She had a lush, beautiful body with shapely legs, a flat belly and large breasts with protruding nipples—pale as they were—that any man would love to suckle. The tiny waist that gave way to the generous flare of her hips could be circled in the scope of a man’s hands. All in all, Skylar McQueen was an astonishingly beautiful and seductive woman.
The sheet flowed gently from the foot of the bed to just below the Banshee’s underarms and settled upon her body. She moaned but did not wake. Nor did she move when the Father-God laid a hand upon her brow. He stroked His thumb along her forehead.
“You loved your life-mate Coure and I understand this, Banshee, but that warrior is gone,” He said.
The Banshee moaned again and her pale lips parted.
“It is time to move on. You have much to give and there is one who is in need of that giving.”
She shifted under His hand as though in pain.
“Work with him,” Jee An Ayr said. “Get to know him. Be kind to him and he will, in turn, be kind to you. Not all men are as evil as you have been taught. My Gravelord will give you the peace you seek and you will give him the companionship he needs.”
He continued to stroke her head—putting thoughts there that He knew would infuriate Morrigunia. He was meddling in the life of one of Her Reapers but it wasn’t the first time.
Nor would it be the last.
He would do nothing to influence them but the exterior forces that worked upon those stalwart warriors was another matter.
And His lady-wife needed a punishment or two of Her own for doing harm to lovers who had not deserved Her foolish, mad vendetta. To foil Her plans would be an exacting retribution. He intended to teach Her a much-deserved lesson in not interfering with the warriors They had chosen to protect this planet.
When He was finished, He eased His hand from the Banshee’s brow and floated away, a satisfied grin on His ageless face.
Chapter Twenty
They all broke their fasts together the next morning, sitting at a large table in the center of the restaurant dining room in Watertown. Copious amounts of hot coffee had been poured into almost every cup on the table. A sleep-eyed Romao Saur kept yawning as he polished off the corned beef hash on his plate and took another sip of the strong black tea that was his preference.
“What was their reaction about the trastacáin?” Wynth asked.
“A bit put out that they hadn’t thought of it,” Saur replied. “They were quick to provide it, though, but with the clear command that no balgair was to be left alive.”
“That’s a given,” Fallon said in between bites of toast and egg.
“How are we supposed to hide fifty-plus dead bodies on the general’s estate?” Sorn inquired of Coulter. He ladled a big glob of cottage fries into his mouth.
Coulter wiped his mouth on his napkin before answering. “A massive gas explosion that will destroy the house once we have the general and his servants out safely. We’ll need to transport the bodies from the dormitory to the house.”
“I’ll implant the notion in the general’s mind that those who were not guarding the front and rear doors of the mansion were having a briefing session inside. The cook and her assistant will have gone to town—driven by the general’s driver—and the maids were out cleaning the dormitory.”
“And the general and his wife?”
“The wife will have had the butler drive her to a friend’s house. That leaves only the general’s assistant who will be out walking with him and the two remaining bodyguards.”
“When those bodyguards come up missing and it’s learned the gas explosion had been rigged, there will be a massive manhunt set into motion to find them,” Coulter explained.
“Which will never happen since the general will give the authorities descriptions of those guards from among the dead balgairs.”
“Then we’ll need to hold back two bodies,” Belial reminded them. “Can’t have fifty-three bodies found inside if two are supposedly missing.”
“Good catch,” Coulter said. He smiled at Cree and Cree smiled back at him for the first time.
“Shouldn’t there have been a secret service agent or two with the general’s wife?” Skylar asked.
“Another good catch!” Coulter said. “We’ll have to keep out two more bodies and add them to the conspiracy to kill the general.”
Fallon gave Skylar a begrudging look of respect then scooped up more over-easy egg onto another piece of toast.
“Anything else we’re missing?” Cree inquired.
“I think that covers it,” Coulter said. “Sorn, as we planned, you’ll take the guards on the east side of the dorm. Fallon will remove the ones on the west, Wynth the north, and Belial the south. Saur, how ‘bout you dropping the trastacáin down the chimney? Cree and I willbe up at the house getting ready to drop the other canister into the heat vent. Since the drug takes only moments to work, everyone inside should be out before you guys are finished at the dorm.”
“And I’ll be waiting for you to call me in to handle Dexter,” Skylar said.
“Correct,” Coulter acknowledged. “Listen up, guys. I want to be in there and out in less than an hour. So let’s get ’er done!”
Walking back to their rooms, Skylar put out a hand to halt Coulter. She gave him a worried look. “Can I talk to you?”
Coulter nodded. “Shoot.”
The others passed them, giving Coulter a few questioning glances. When it was only she and Coulter, Skylar nudged her chin toward a play area to the side of the motel.
“Okay,” he agreed, falling into step beside her. “What’s up?”
“Did you have a visitor last eve?” she asked.
“Visitor?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Who do you mean?”
“My opinion of you has changed,” she said as she took a seat in
one of the four children’s swings. She set the swing in motion. “I find I am feeling more receptive to the life-mate thing.”
Coulter’s eyebrows shot up. “What do you mean?” he asked again.
“That’s just it,” she answered, pulling back on the swing chains to propel it higher. “I think someone visited me last eve and put suggestions in my mind.”
Coulter crossed his arms over his chest. “Like who?”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been the Triune,” she said, going higher. “I’m thinking perhaps Her husband?”
“Jee An Ayr?”
Skylar twisted her head to look at him as she swung. “Has She more than one?” she asked.
“Not that I read but you and the others would be more familiar with the arcana than I,” he admitted. “I’m new to this.”
“The Father-God, Jee An Ayr, created the Shadowlords,” she said.
“Yeah, I know that much.”
“Which means you are one of His. He has you under His protection as She has the Reapers under Hers.”
“So?”
“I wasn’t pleasant to you on the flight here,” she reminded him.
“Downright hostile actually,” he said.
“I believe Jee An Ayr wants that to change and thus I am no longer feeling animosity and anger toward you. There is only one reason that would be so. He intervened.”
“If that were the case, don’t you think He would have made it so you wouldn’t suspect He had?”
“He is not as underhanded and duplicitous as His Lady-wife,” she said. “Not like human men at all.”
Coulter chuckled. “Couldn’t just be my sexy good looks and adorable smile that has wrought a better tolerance of me?”
“Highly doubtful,” she said drily.
“Or my sensual nature and killer bod?”
“Again, doubtful.”
“Then it must be my sharp-as-a-tack intellect,” he suggested.
“I’ve yet to see evidence of that,” she said.
“So how do you feel about this supposed manipulation of your feelings, Banshee?”
She leaned back as far as she could go and stared up at the bright blue sky. He noticed her skin was pinking in the sunlight.
A Reaper's Love (WindWorld) Page 25