Her Reaper's Arms

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  scream.

  “I won’t sit with that bitch!” she told her Reaper.

  “I am not expecting you to,” he said. “You can stay in the gods-be-damned sleeper

  car if you want.”

  “And leave her to paw all over you?” she gasped. “I don’t think so!”

  “Lea…” he began, and his shoulders slumped. “Wench, she means nothing to me.”

  “If you give her one of your parasites…”

  “I won’t!” he was quick to tell her. “Why would you think I’d even consider that?”

  “I’m just saying,” she said with a sniff, pulling her coat closer around her for the

  wind was sending across a mist of rain under the platform to chill her.

  With the Amazeen and other passengers staring out the windows at him, the

  conductor paused on the steps with watch in hand waiting for him and Lea to come

  onboard. With the engineer peering out of the engine window with an annoyed grimace

  on his face, the engine hissing steam, Bevyn shot out his arm and grabbed Lea around

  the waist, jerking her brutally to him. He lowered his head to capture her mouth with

  his in a kiss that stunned every eye that saw it. He took his time and kissed her

  thoroughly—with lips and tongue and a hard-on that pressed savagely against her.

  When he was done, he let go of her, watched her stumble back slightly with wide eyes,

  a dazed look and swollen lips, and then reached down for her hand.

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  “Come along, wench,” he said between clenched teeth. “We’re holding up the

  train.”

  Lea followed behind him, striving to catch her breath. Her Reaper had put

  everything into that kiss and it left no doubt in her mind as to how he felt. Her toes had

  actually curled with that hard kiss and her womb had done a funny little squeeze. With

  her hand tucked firmly in his, he led her up the steps and didn’t relinquish his grip

  even when he ushered her into a seat well away from the Amazeen, their back to her,

  Lea sitting by the window. He put his free arm around her even though they were both

  still wearing their coats.

  “You’ve proved your point,” Lea said as the whistle blew and the train began to

  roll.

  “Did I?” he countered, not looking at her but staring straight ahead.

  “Aye, you did,” she said softly.

  He let go of her hand, removed his arm from her and stood up in the aisle,

  shrugging out of his coat then tossing it to the seat across the way. He leaned down to

  help her remove hers then laid it atop his before resuming his seat, stretching his long

  legs out in front of him, wedging them partially under the seat in front and crossed his

  legs.

  The conductor came by and Bevyn stopped him to ask if their traveling companion

  could go up to visit with the engineer.

  “Well, we don’t normally do that, but for you, milord, we’ll make an exception,”

  the conductor said. He bowed then went to speak to the Amazeen.

  As soon as Penthe passed them on her way up to the engine car, Bevyn reached up

  and tipped his hat down over his eyes, folding his arms over his chest and lowered his

  head. “I’m going to take a nap now.”

  Lea smiled to herself and turned her head to look out the window at the passing

  scenery. The train was gathering speed, the rain streaking the windowpane. She’d never

  been this far east and just knowing she was traveling to the very end of the country was

  exciting.

  From the corner of his eye, Bevyn was watching his lady. Her hands were on the

  glass, her forehead pressed against it. She was like a child at a candy store window as

  she stared at the bridges they passed, the farmhouses, the streams and lakes before they

  began the steady climb up into the misty mountains. It didn’t appear as though she

  were missing anything and didn’t even glance around when Penthe came back into the

  car, the Blackwind’s hand trailing along Bevyn’s arm as she passed him.

  Sighing deeply, unable to sleep but just needing the solitude, the Reaper knew he

  was going to have to do something about the Amazeen. He didn’t like her touching

  him. He didn’t want her touching him. He knew damned well Lea didn’t want it

  happening.

  “Lord Bevyn?”

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  Bevyn flinched, the High Lord’s angry tone drilling into his mind. “Aye, Your

  Grace?”

  “One week, Reaper,” Lord Kheelan snapped.

  “Aye, Your Grace,” Bevyn said, having known full well that would be his

  punishment for what he’d done.

  “You have severely disappointed us, Coure. Lord Arawn will be here to discuss your

  behavior with you.”

  There was nothing for Bevyn to say. He’d screwed up as far as the High Council

  was concerned and he’d pay for it.

  The Shadowlord said no more to him and the silence was a condemnation of its

  own.

  Bevyn wondered if the High Council knew about the Amazeen Blackwind and

  decided since they knew everything else, they had to know about her. Obviously she

  wasn’t as much a problem to them as Lea was.

  Screw that, he thought. If they didn’t like his relationship with Lea, he’d resign and

  take himself right back to Orson. To his way of thinking, he had more than earned a bit

  of happiness in his life.

  He must have dozed for when he heard his lady’s gasp, his eyes popped open and

  he felt disoriented, aware of the faster movement of the train beneath him.

  “Milord, look!” Lea said, reaching around to snag his arm and pull him toward her.

  Bevyn pushed his hat back and leaned toward her, staring out the window where

  she was pointing. A family of buffalo was grazing beyond a split-rail fence, two calves

  staring at the train as it chugged by.

  “I never thought to see such animals,” she breathed with awe in her voice.

  “What are those, Coure?” Penthe asked and Bevyn realized she had moved so she

  was sitting directly behind them.

  “Bison,” he replied, uneasy that she was back there. “Buffalo.”

  “Strange creatures,” Penthe remarked. “Like fuzzy oxen on Amazeen.”

  “They were a staple for the Native Terrans many centuries before. The decline of

  the animal signaled the decline of many tribes,” he told her.

  Lea’s excitement was dimmed by her man and the Amazeen speaking to one

  another, and Lea sat back in her seat, her hands in her lap, no longer watching the

  scenery.

  “Lunch is being served in the dining car,” the conductor said, coming up the aisle

  from behind them. “Lunch in the dining car, milord, ladies and gentlemen.”

  “Let’s go, sweeting,” Bevyn said, reaching for Lea’s hand. “I’m starved.”

  “I am too,” Penthe announced.

  “Imagine that,” Lea muttered under her breath. “I bet I know what she’s hungry

  for.”

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  Bevyn stood, leaving his hat in his seat and stepped back so Lea could precede him.

  He was more than a little irritated when the Blackwind stepped close behind Lea,

  directly in front of him. Grinding his teeth and digging his nails into his palms, he

  glared at the back of the Amazeen’s head, annoyed even more that she was as tall as he.r />
  Unaware the other woman was behind her, Lea took the table to which the steward

  ushered her, glancing back with surprise to find the Amazeen between her and Bevyn.

  Since the steward was holding the chair out for her, Lea had no choice but to thank him

  and sit down. Having Bevyn pull the other woman’s chair out for her made Lea want to

  kick him and the tall bitch, who was grinning hatefully at Lea, assuming she would be

  sitting beside the Reaper.

  When Penthe was seated, Bevyn foiled the Amazeen’s plan and skirted the table,

  taking the chair beside his lady’s, beside the window, giving her a gentle smile when

  she looked up at him with gratitude in her pretty gray eyes.

  They managed to chat amicably about the passing scenery as their meals were

  placed before them. No one watching would have suspected all three diners at that

  particular table were uneasy, restrained and anxious for the meal to be over. When the

  commotion at the front of the car began, it drew their immediate attention almost with

  relief until they saw the armed, masked men converging on them with guns drawn.

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  Chapter Eight

  “This is a holdup. Nobody move and there won’t be no problems,” one of the five

  men said.

  The train began slowing to a stop. No doubt another robber or two had broken into

  the engine room.

  A woman cried out, was hushed by her male companion, and another one fainted,

  slumping down in her chair. There were twenty people other than the Reaper sitting in

  the dining car. One was a young couple with two small children, another young

  couple—the wife heavy with child—several older women obviously traveling together

  and a few older men with their wives. Save for one other man who had the look of a

  professional gambler about him, Bevyn doubted there was another gun among them.

  “We want your purses and your money,” the robber decreed. “Valuables too. That

  includes rings, watches, jewelry of any kind.” He indicated one of the masked men.

  “Jake here is gonna pass by your table with his sack and you’re gonna dump your

  goodies inside.”

  Bevyn and the women with him were sitting midway in the dining car on the north

  side where the tables sat four people each. The table across the aisle from them seated

  two—the unconscious woman and her husband who was fanning her with his napkin.

  Another of the robbers leaned over to the man who apparently was the leader and

  pointed toward Bevyn. For just a split second, there was fear in the leader’s eyes then he

  straightened his shoulders.

  “Well, whatcha know? Looks like we got us a genuine folk hero onboard, ladies and

  gents,” the leader quipped.

  Strutting down the aisle, the leader kept his gun leveled at Bevyn’s head though the

  barrel shook.

  “Don’t you try being a hero now, milord Reaper,” the leader said. “I’d hate to have

  to put a slug between the eyes of that pretty lady sitting beside you.”

  “What’s a Reaper doing sitting with two women anyways?” another of the masked

  men asked.

  The one the leader had called Jake was moving from table to table, the clink of

  money and jewelry going into his the bag he carried. “Leave him be, Nate,” he warned.

  “We don’t need that kind of trouble.”

  “Ain’t gonna be no trouble, is there, milord Reaper?” the leader asked.

  Bevyn didn’t reply. His gaze was steady on the leader, his hands in plain sight, not

  giving the men reason to think he’d go for his weapon, but the look on his face boded ill

  for those accosting the passengers.

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  “How ‘bout you handing over your piece there, milord Reaper,” the leader

  demanded.

  Every eye except Lea’s was on Bevyn. No one was looking at the Amazeen so no

  one but Lea saw the woman slowly beginning to fade until only a faint wisp of black

  mist drifted behind the leader and out the dining car entrance. It took every ounce of

  her willpower not to gasp as the woman vanished or to allow her stricken eyes to widen

  and give herself away.

  Not questioning the leader, Bevyn started to ease his right hand down from the

  table.

  “Uh-uh,” the leader was quick to say. “Use your left hand.”

  The right side of the Reaper’s mouth lifted just a bit as though he might smile but

  he reached across him and thumbed up the hammer strap on his six-shooter. He lifted

  out his weapon and extended it butt first to the leader, who stuck the black-handled

  gun into his belt.

  “Now that whip I’ve heard tell so much about,” the leader said.

  Bevyn smiled then—as cold a smile as any he’d ever bestowed on another living

  thing. It was a slow stretching of his lips while his golden eyes gleamed with malice. “It

  won’t do you any good,” he said.

  The leader pulled the hammer back on his weapon, the barrel moving slightly so he

  was pointing it at Lea. “Don’t make me tell you twice, lawman,” he snarled.

  The Reaper shrugged and slid his left hand down to his hip to remove the speal.

  Silently he handed it over.

  Snatching the laser whip from the Reaper’s hand, the leader held it clutched in his

  own, fingering the dragon claw handle. “How you work this?” he asked.

  “You don’t,” Bevyn said. “Only a Reaper can. It’s worthless to you.”

  Trying to find a way to activate the weapon, the leader finally tossed it aside.

  “Where’s your money?” he barked.

  “Gotta get up to give it to you,” Bevyn said with a steady grin.

  “Don’t let him stand up!” the one named Jake said.

  “You better be worrying about me and not the Reaper,” a feminine voice said

  behind the robbers.

  Lea would forever see what happened next in her dreams for as long as she lived.

  She saw the leader’s head snap around at the Amazeen’s challenge, saw Bevyn scoop

  up the laser whip in one rapid movement as he gripped the edge of the table in

  preparation for shoving it against the leader’s legs. She would hear the shrill zing of the

  weapon in Penthe’s hands as the Dóigra came alive—a bright, burning red pulse

  shooting out from the glass-tipped head in a starburst that completely annihilated the

  robber closest to the Blackwind. The stench of burning flesh was overpowering.

  In her nightmares there would be the screams of the women in the dining car as

  Penthe twirled her weapon in her hands then slammed it against a robber’s head, the

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  hissing glass end taking the top of the man’s cranium completely off. She would see the

  leader stumble back as Bevyn upended the table toward him, sending the leader

  crashing to the floor. She would hear the sizzle of the Reaper’s speal as it powered up

  and the loud snap of it as Bevyn flicked it over his shoulder then forward to decapitate

  the man named Jake before taking a mortal bite out of the fourth man on the backswing.

  The leader—no doubt realizing he was going to die anyway—leveled his gun on Bevyn

  and while bellowing with rage, fanned six shots dead center into the Reaper’s chest.

  “Bevyn!” Lea screamed as her man pitched backward, the bullets
slamming into his

  body. He landed heavily on the empty table behind them, collapsing it beneath his

  weight, and falling with it in a heavy thud to the floor. His black blood pumped out

  against the pristine white tablecloth beneath him as he lay staring up at the ceiling of

  the dining car, his hands to either side of his head.

  “You son of a bitch!” Penthe howled, and the Dóigra sang as a blast of fierce red

  lightning sparked from the star-shaped bulb at the end to engulf the leader in flame.

  Shrieking in agony, the leader ran toward the back of the car, passengers

  scrambling to get out of his way. He’d almost made it to the door when the Dóigra

  flared still again and the burning man simply ceased to be in a pulse of red mist.

  Beyond the windows of the train, a sixth man was holding the horses of his fellow

  robbers. As soon as he realized what had happened inside the train, he wheeled his

  mount around and took off like a shot, whipping his horse and drumming his heels into

  the poor beast. A shout from toward the front of the train told everyone there was at

  least one other robber.

  Lea would always remember how she had moved as if in slow motion, throwing

  herself to the floor beside Bevyn, her knees landing in a widening puddle of his ebontinted blood. She would see him slowly blink, his gaze wandering to hers. She would

  hear a strange rattling sound in his chest as he tried to speak to her.

  Penthe would come rushing to them, going down on one knee beside the Reaper,

  scooping her hand under his head, lifting it up, half lifting him to a sitting position.

  “He’s drowning in his own blood!” the Amazeen hissed, bracing Bevyn against her.

  One moment Bevyn was looking at Lea—still trying to speak as a trickle of his black

  blood eased from the corner of his mouth—and in the next, his head fell backward, his

  eyes wide.

  “No!” Lea would scream over and over again.

  The other passengers were gathering around except for the young couple with the

  children. They had tried to shield their offspring from the horrific sights as best they

  could and were now huddled together in the corner of the dining car, their bodies

  blocking the ghastly scene.

  “Is he dead?” a man asked. “I didn’t think Reapers could die.”

  “He’s not dead,” Penthe said. “He’s unconscious, but these bullets have got to come

  out of him if he’s to heal.”