socks because of it.”
“When I was a novitiate in the Order of the Blackwinds, one of the rites of initiation
was to have the bottoms of your bare feet struck with bamboo rods until they bled,”
Penthe said.
“The purpose being…?” Cornelia asked as she puffed away, clouds of fragrant
smoke billowing above her.
“It was threefold actually,” Penthe said. “The first was to see how much pain a
novitiate could take before showing it. The second was to see how well she handled that
pain and the third was to remind you to be very careful where you tread.” She
scratched her cheek. “If the novitiate cried out, if one tear fell, she was cast out of the
Order in disgrace.”
“I take it you didn’t cry,” Lea said.
“I never cry, wench,” Penthe said with a snort.
A cool breeze shot through the porch a moment before lightning streaked across the
night sky followed a few seconds later by a low rumble of thunder.
“Well now, that’s a right beautiful sound and we sure do need rain something
fierce,” Cornelia said. “Can’t work on your roof in the rain though.”
“No, I suppose we can’t” Bevyn replied. “I was hoping to get a lot done before we
have to leave.”
“When is it we’ll be going to the Citadel?” Penthe asked.
Lea pursed her lips. She was very unhappy with the tall woman accompanying
them—and for more reasons than having to share her unwanted companionship.
Hearing the woman using the word we just made Lea that much angrier.
“Three days,” Bevyn answered. “I’d hoped to have the house framed before I left so
Nate and his crew could have it finished inside before we got back.”
“How long you reckon on being gone?” Cornelia asked.
“At least two weeks,” Bevyn said. “Maybe longer.”
“I may stay there,” Penthe suggested.
“With any luck at all you will,” Lea mumbled under her breath.
Bevyn heard his lady and nudged her with his thigh. When she glanced at him, he
winked at her.
“How many Reapers are there at that place?” Cornelia asked.
“There are seven of us but the only one who pretty much uses the Citadel as his
base is our Prime—Arawn Gehdrin,” Bevyn answered. “The others are out in their
territories much of the time. We’re only called in for important matters or to be
punished.”
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“Is that why you are going there?” Penthe asked. “To have your hands slapped for
something you did wrong, Reaper?”
“That’s none of your business,” Lea snapped.
Penthe grinned. “Never mind, Reaper. I have my answer.”
Bevyn was tired and his body was aching from all the climbing about the rafters.
He leaned against Lea and told her he would be sleeping in the stable that night.
“What are you talking about?” Lea gasped. “Why would you be sleeping in the
stable when you have a perfectly good room here?”
“Penthe needs a room, Lea,” Cornelia said, “so your man offered his. He’s taking
himself to the stable.”
“I don’t need a room,” Penthe said. “The stable would be just as good for me.”
“Aye, but I called it first,” Bevyn said. “And since Miss Cornelia won’t let us
cohabit in her house…”
“I’ll be sleeping with you in the stable,” Lea stated.
Cornelia nodded as though she’d expected as much. “Best take you some bedding
along, son,” she advised.
Grumbling to herself, Lea got up and stomped into the house.
“Sure wish you two would get hitched,” Cornelia said. “Then there wouldn’t be no
call for any of this.”
“You’re not Joined, Reaper?” Penthe inquired.
“She doesn’t want it,” Bevyn said as he got up and went into the house.
Penthe set her chair to rocking. “Now why do you suppose that is?” she asked.
“Don’t reckon it’s any of your bee’s wax,” Cornelia said with a sniff. “Best to keep
your wondering to yourself, girl.”
With a thick blanket spread over the soft mound of hay and the rain drumming
down on the tin roof overhead, the Reaper and his lady lay with their fingers entwined,
listening to the soft rumble of thunder.
“I love the rain,” Lea told him.
“I’m partial to the wind,” he replied. “I love the sound of it howling through the
eaves.”
“Aye, that is a pleasant sound.”
They said nothing for a few minutes and then Bevyn turned over on his side so he
was looking at her, though she could not see his face in the darkness. A horse neighed,
another answered, and above them the rafters creaked.
“Lea…”
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“I know what you are going to say,” she cut him off. “Please don’t. I don’t like that
woman and I never will. She came here to take you back with her and if she’s ever
given the chance, she’ll do it.”
“She might try,” he said. “Do you really think the goddess would allow me to be
taken?”
Lea thought about that. “No, I suppose She would not.”
“Then don’t concern yourself with the Blackwind. I am fairly sure she will remain
behind at the Citadel when we leave.”
“Why would she?” she queried.
“What is there for her here?”
“You,” she stated.
“Well, she can’t have me,” he declared. “My woman would not allow it.”
“Damned straight she wouldn’t,” Lea stated.
“Besides, I imagine the Shadowlords will insist she stay there and Morrigunia will
more than likely have something to say about it although…” He paused then turned to
his back.
“Although what?” his lady pressed.
“The goddess didn’t make a concerted effort to stop Penthe from following me to
Orson. Something tells me She has plans for the Blackwind.”
“As long as those plans don’t include you, I’m okay with it,” Lea said.
From the dark corner of the stable where She sat perched in midair, Her pale green
iridescent gown streaming around Her, Morrigunia smiled. She liked the feisty little
human girl who had captured Bevyn Coure’s heart and imprisoned his body. Had She
not, Lea would never have been put in the Reaper’s path to begin with.
But as for the Amazeen Blackwind…
The Triune Goddess narrowed her dark green eyes into angry slits. Though She had
no intention of harming the warrioress, neither would She allow the bitch to cause the
Reapers problems…especially not Bevyn. As for the Shadowlords, She could not have
cared less what headaches the Blackwind caused Kheelan and his cronies.
Morning brought rain and the rain would stay on for the two days to follow, so that
by the time the stagecoach in which Bevyn and the two women would ride to Clewiston
arrived at Cornelia’s, the roadways were nothing less than quagmires.
“By the gods, I hope you don’t get bogged down on the way,” Buford told the
Reaper. The sheriff had insisted on having his best deputy drive.
Bevyn was standing at the coach door, his slicker running with raindrops, his hat
pulled low over his face, water falling from the brim. “Ta
ke care of Préachán for me?”
he asked as he climbed into the carriage.
“Aye, milord,” Buford acknowledged, and tightly shut the door behind the Reaper.
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Lea and Penthe were already in the coach, sitting on opposite sides, ignoring one
another. It would prove to be a long ride to Clewiston with the window flaps down to
keep out the rain.
“A bad day for traveling, Reaper,” Penthe remarked as he struggled to pull off his
wet slicker with Lea’s help.
“That it is,” Bevyn replied. He folded the slicker and put it under his seat. “Does
your weapon draw lightning to it?”
Penthe had been unhappy that her Dóigra had to be lashed to the top of the
stagecoach and wouldn’t be close at hand. “Not as long as I do not direct it so,” she
answered. She cocked her head to one side. “How did you know it drew lightning?”
“Isn’t that how it pulls power into the laser?” he asked.
The Blackwind arched a brow. “You know more of Amazeen technology than I
would have imagined, Coure. How is that?”
Bevyn tugged the black leather glove from his right hand and held it up, its back to
Penthe.
“Ah, she marked you,” Penthe said. “That I did not know. Is the star on the other
hand as well?”
“Aye.”
Lea reached out to take Bevyn’s hand. She had missed the faint burn mark on his
flesh. “One of those things like she carries did this?” she queried. At her husband’s nod,
she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.
“How touching,” Penthe said with a smirk.
Bevyn shot the Blackwind an irritated look. “I’ve tried to recharge my laser whip in
the same manner as Kennocha did her Dóigra but I haven’t been able to.”
“It is the glass filament in the head that stores the energy,” Penthe told him.
“That explains it then,” he said.
The hour’s ride to the railhead took longer since the coach and horses were bucking
a fierce headwind. The passengers were being tossed about inside as rain lashed at the
windows, lightning cracked loudly and the wooden wheels rolled into deep ruts.
Bevyn was fidgeting in his seat. He didn’t like being confined—no Reaper did—and
his nerves were raw and on edge.
“How close are you to Transition, Coure?” Penthe asked.
The Reaper frowned. “About a month,” he said, glancing at Lea. He never had any
intention of allowing his lady to see him shapeshift into his wolflike form and didn’t
even like bringing the subject up around her.
“I’ve never seen a Reaper change,” Penthe said. “I imagine it is quite a stirring
sight. I look forward to it.”
“I doubt you will ever be a witness to a Transition, wench,” he mumbled.
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Penthe narrowed her eyes. “What are the chances of my becoming Terra’s first
female Reaper?”
Bevyn grinned nastily. “A Reaper would have to volunteer one of his fledglings and
I doubt that will happen, wench.”
“Even if I swore allegiance to the Shadowlords?” the Blackwind pressed.
“Why would you want something so evil inside you?” Lea asked, horrified at the
notion.
“Evil?” Penthe asked. “You think your man evil, Terran?”
“No, of course not but—”
“Then why do you think any part of him would be evil?” Penthe challenged.
“The thing inside him is immoral. It is vile!” Lea hissed, and snatched her hand
from Bevyn when he would have taken it.
“Aye, well, now I can see why he won’t Join with you, Terran,” Penthe said. “You
fear what makes him the very man you love!”
“That’s enough,” Bevyn said, his face hard.
“He knows I don’t want that thing inside me,” Lea defended herself.
“Then don’t have it, but I would be honored to be the first female Reaper on Terra.
There are others scattered about the megaverse and—”
“There are?” Bevyn interrupted. “Who told you such a thing?”
“I have met one,” Penthe stated. “She is Amazeen. Her name is Kynthia Ancaeus
and she is one of the Cree clan, her hellion having come from a great warrior named
Cainer Cree.”
“That’s a lie,” Bevyn said. “No Amazeen would be given a revenant worm!”
“Ancaeus was,” Penthe declared. “On my honor as a Blackwind, I swear this to
you.”
The Reaper stared at the Amazeen warrioress and she met his eye, never once
looking away until he had gleaned the truth of her statement as she allowed him entry
into her mind.
“Do you believe me now, Coure?” she asked.
“I…” He shook his head. “The High Council needs to hear of this.”
“I will tell them and I will ask to be considered for the honor of receiving a
fledgling,” she said.
“What if your people come after you?” he said. “If you became a Reaper, you
wouldn’t be allowed to return to Amazeen. Surely you must know that.”
Penthe chewed on her lip for a moment then waved a dismissive hand. “It would
not matter. To become a Reaper is an honor no sane woman would deny herself.”
Lea made a rude sound.
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“It’s not likely to happen,” Bevyn said. “But I would have said the same of finding
an Amazeen on Terra to begin with.”
“I can be an ally,” Penthe told him. “I could fight at your back.”
“That sure as hell isn’t going to happen!” Lea snarled. “You are going to stay away
from him!”
The two women glared daggers at one another and Bevyn was wise enough not to
say anything that would make the situation worse. A deafening silence settled inside
the coach with the sharp pelting of the rain against the windows and doors seemingly
louder with every mile they traveled.
By the time the coach stopped at the railway station, the Reaper was more than
ready to get out—pouring rain or not. Being cooped up had taken its toll on his nerves.
Grabbing his slicker, he had even more trouble putting it on than he’d had getting it off,
for Lea didn’t offer to help, daring the Blackwind to offer with eyes that were darting
lethal gray fire.
“Behave, ladies,” Bevyn muttered to the two women as he forced the door open
against the pummeling wind and rain.
“Keep embarrassing him like that and you’ll lose him,” Penthe warned Lea with a
smirk.
“Go fuck yourself,” Lea said, having borrowed that particularly pithy insult from
one of the girls at the White Horse Saloon. She was angry enough to throw herself at the
tall woman whose lip was lifted in a sneer.
“You’re a fool,” Penthe said, laughing. She got up and pushed open the door,
moving out into the deluge.
Sitting there for another minute or two, Lea tried to get her anger under control. It
wasn’t in her to be so combative or confrontational and she had surprised herself. But
Bevyn belonged to her and she belonged to him. She knew he wouldn’t allow any other
woman to come between them, but instinct told her the Amazeen wasn’t going to give
up easily.
Bevyn inspected the train
car the three of them would be traveling on, had the
deputy hand down Penthe’s Dóigra and took it to the Amazeen’s private compartment.
The compartment he would share with Lea was small but far enough away from the
one the Blackwind had been assigned that he should be able to keep the women apart
much of the time. Daylight hours would be passed in the social car and the dining car.
“We will be serving lunch about an hour after we depart the station, milord,” the
conductor told Bevyn, nodding politely to the Amazeen as she came to join them.
“I’ve not been on one of these rolling tin cans,” Penthe said. “Do you think they’d
let me see the engine that pulls it?”
“I’ll ask, but I don’t see why not,” Bevyn said. He was grateful the Amazeen was
curious about the train. If she was inspecting it, she wouldn’t be baiting Lea. He swept a
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hand to the seats. “Sit wherever you like. I’m going to get my lady. Your weapon is in
your compartment.” He showed her the quarters.
Penthe watched him leave the train car and run to the stagecoach to open the door.
He stood there for a moment with the rain pouring down on him, seemingly arguing
with the Terran woman.
“Keep it up, bitch,” Penthe said softly. “Annoy him and he’ll start looking
elsewhere for company.”
Settling down in one of the seats so she could watch the Reaper, she laughed when
he threw his hands up and slammed the coach door. But instead of coming back on the
train, he began pacing the covered platform with his hands on his hips, his head down,
as though he were striving to get his anger under control. Even through the downpour,
she could hear his spurs plinking against the platform with each circuit he made. She
saw him stop, lift his head and stare right at her.
“Don’t let her put a leash on you, Reaper,” she whispered to him.
Bevyn heard her words as clearly as though she’d been standing right beside him.
He shook his head, annoyed even more, then stomped back to the stagecoach, jerked
the door open and reached inside.
“Out!” he snapped at Lea. “Now, wench!”
Lea had no choice but to leave the stagecoach. He was pulling on her arm, and from
the look on his face, the set of his clenched jaw, she knew he was upset. One glimpse at
the woman sitting at the window watching them with a hateful smirk made Lea want to
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