The Nightwind's Woman (20 page)

The elevator stopped and its doors opened
on her floor. Once more her eyes went to the stairwell door a few feet away and
a shudder rippled down her body. Before she stepped out of the cage, she looked
up and down the hall—half-expecting to see some lumbering menace coming toward
her.

“Really, Delaney?” she mumbled. She pursed
her lips at her overcharged imagination but hurried nonetheless to her room
door. Even as she placed her palm against the reader, she looked behind her and
to both sides. To make matters worse, the hairs on the back of her neck and on
her arms crinkled. She couldn’t get into her room fast enough—turning quickly
to punch in the lock code that would seal the door. As soon as she had, she
thought of Kerreyder and how easily he had entered her room despite it being
locked.

Once more unease moved through her. She
went through every room with her heart in her throat—even looked under the bed
and in each closet—until she was satisfied she was alone.

Of course that wouldn’t matter if whatever
entity was disturbing her could walk through walls or materialize at any
moment.

“Get a grip!” she chastised herself but
nevertheless went to the phone to apprise security of her unease. At least they
would be aware and, if a creature had escaped confinement, alert her.

“Security. Reynolds.”

“Yes, this is Dr. Delaney. Are there any
alerts out?”

“Not at this time, Doc,” the guard replied.
“Something bothering you?”

“Intuition is something we don’t
disregard around here,”
her counselor had told her
during orientation.
“If you feel uneasy, you let security know.”

“It’s probably nothing but I can’t seem to
shake the feeling I’m being watched,” she told him.

“I’ll send someone up right away. Are you
locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Is your weapon at hand?”

Kenzi blinked. “My weapon?” she questioned.
“What weapon?”

“You don’t have a weapon?”

“No, I don’t. Should I?” she asked,
nibbling on her bottom lip.

“Most of the staff do,” Reynolds replied. “I’ll
have one brought up to you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t open the door until you check to see
who’s there. His name is Palmer and he’ll hold his ID badge up for you to read.”

“Okay,” she agreed and when she hung up, felt
a bit better than before her call.

Although her nerves were still on edge. She
wished Randon or Kerreyder were there but they were down in Florida. She
thought of calling Alyn to sit with her but that seemed silly. She was a grown
woman and no doubt this would not be the first time she’d feel anxious at
Tearmann. Nerves went with the job.

Unable to relax, she kicked off her shoes
and paced as she waited for Security Officer Palmer to arrive. She kept running
her palms down her slacks in an effort to still her hands.

* * * * *

Lauren swept her eyes down the tall frame
of the archdemon then cocked a brow. “You’re a tall drink of water, aren’t you?”

Kerreyder smiled. “And you’re the woman who
turned the tables on Syntian Cree,” he replied.

“They needed turning,” she said, one corner
of her mouth crooked in challenge.

“No doubt,” the archdemon conceded.

“So,” she said, drawing the word. “What do
you bring to the party, Lord Kerreyder?”

“Prince Kerreyder,” he corrected. “I am the
son of the Father-God and Queen Eisheth of the Succubae.”

“My condolences on the bitch who birthed
you,” Jaleel mumbled.

“Thank you,” Kerreyder surprised the demon
by replying.

“You’re welcome,” Jaleel replied.

“What I bring to the party is another level
of protection for our intrepid Nightwind,” Kerreyder told Lauren. “Your
protection spell around the cemetery will be useful but it isn’t absolute.
Combined with my presence, that will give Kayle ample time to get the key into
the tabernacle and consequently seal it. The moment the container is sealed, I
will take possession of it.”

“How do we know you won’t hand it over to
your mother or to Naamah?” Jaleel queried.

The archdemon cut his gaze to the
Nightwind. “I have recently found my Blood-mate, Jaborn. Think you I would do
anything to jeopardize her world?”

“You could take her back with you to
Treigeilys,” Jaleel suggested.

“No, I cannot,” Kerreyder said. “I have
made her immortal with my seed but she has no desire to leave this world.”

“The lady is bound not only to you but to a
Nightwind,” Lauren said. “Though he has yet to sign his blood oath to her.”

Kerreyder looked pointedly at Randon. “This
is true.”

“She has not asked,” Randon said.

“Does she even know of the Book?” Lauren
inquired. “Does she know where it is?”

Randon shook his head. “She has not asked,”
he repeated.

“And you have conveniently not told her,”
Lauren accused.

Randon raised his chin. “I will.”

“When?” Lauren pressed. She narrowed her
eyes. “I suggest sooner rather than later, incubus.”

The threat was there in the witch’s voice.
In the way her gaze pierced him. It was on the tip of his tongue to order her
to mind her own business but she was a powerful woman whose powers had grown exponentially
under the tutelage of the Nightwind standing beside her. He could feel the
depth and scope of those powers and they made him uneasy.

“I will tell her when I return to Tearmann,”
he said.

“You swear?” Lauren demanded. “On your
life-mate’s soul?”

Randon ground his teeth but dipped his head
in a brief bow. “I swear,” he replied.

“Go back on that vow and I will send Jaleel
to have a long talk with her,” she said then turned her back on him once again.

“I’d toe the line if I were you, bud,”
Coulter said under his breath.

Randon didn’t reply to the advice. Instead
he walked to the bay window at the front of the room, took his hand out of his
pocket and pushed the sheers apart to look out.

“He’s a loner, isn’t he?” Coulter inquired.

“He knows when he’s not welcome,” Lauren
stated.

“Mayhap not welcome here in your home,
milady, but assuredly needed and wanted,” Cree defended the Nightwind. “He is a
valuable asset to the Consortium.”

“Even maggots have their uses, Lord Cree,”
she replied.

Randon’s eyelids flickered at the insult
but he didn’t look around. He stood there listening to the planning of the next
day’s excursion into the cemetery. It wasn’t just the fact that he felt
unwelcome that had him quiet and tense. There was a hint of something evil in
the air that had garnered his attention. He was fairly sure the succubae
already had someone—or some
thing
—in the little Florida Panhandle town. He
couldn’t sense its whereabouts or scent it but he didn’t need to to know
wickedness was on the prowl.

He shifted his shoulders, feeling as though
a heavy, wet weight was perched there breathing hot, foul air along the nape of
his neck.

“I feel it too,” Kerreyder said, joining
him at the window.

Outside the lightning was forking dangerously
from cloud to ground and the wind was howling around the eaves of the house.
The sonic booms made the glass in the window shake.

“There can be no slipups tomorrow,” Randon
said. “Humanity depends on us being able to work as a cohesive team.”

“Don’t worry about the witch,” the
archdemon said. “She poses no threat to you. This I swear. You are my
protection for Kenzi in this world. I will not allow anything to happen to you.”

The Nightwind drew in a long breath. “Lucky
me, huh?”

“I could send you back to the Abyss if that
is what you want.”

Randon chuckled sardonically then turned
his head to look at Kerreyder. “You and I both know that’s a hollow threat,
Warden. Stop making it.”

Kerreyder grinned then shrugged. “Busted.”
He reached out to clamp a hand on the Nightwind’s shoulder. “Despite fucking
hating you, I like you, incubus.” He squeezed Randon’s shoulder. “I fucking do.”

“Sucks to be you,” Randon said, shrugging
off the touch. He leveled his gaze on the archdemon. “Don’t ever touch me
again.”

“Everything all right over there?” Cree
asked.

Randon kept his attention riveted on
Kerreyder who smiled slowly and with a hint of nastiness no one but the
Nightwind could see.

“Aye, Aiden,” the archdemon said. “Everything
is just hunkey-dory.” He winked at Randon then turned away, strolling back to
the others as though he’d not a care in the world.

Randon returned to watching the strobe
lighting of the violent storm outside the window and shifted his shoulders once
more—wishing he knew why his skin felt too tight for his body and something
dark moved silently through his mind.

“What happens once you have the key?”
Lauren asked Kerreyder.

“I will take it to the Holy Land. There,
representatives of all the religions will be waiting to perform a ceremony that
will seal it for all time within hallowed ground sacred to all of them.”

“Which is where, exactly?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know,”
Kerreyder said. “Once it is in the hands of the religious, no demon can touch
it or know where it will be laid to rest. I will not be privy to that location.”

“And that’s as it should be,” Coulter said.

“Let’s hope the preparation is as ironclad
as you seem to think it will be,” Lauren said. “I don’t want to have to go
through this ever again.”

“None of us do,” Cree stated.

* * * * *

While she waited for the security guard to
show up at her door, Kenzi continued to pace. She was antsy and her anxiety was
growing. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to explain why she felt so
uneasy. It was an intangible thing that had her nerves on edge and her spine
tingling. She repeatedly scraped her palms down her forearms where the hair was
stirring.

“Come on, come on, come on!” she said to
the door. When the chime sounded, she all but jumped out of her skin. Beside it
was a small vid-com screen.

A man she’d never seen stood on the other
side, staring at the camera above the door chime. “Security, ma’am,” he said
then put the case that held his badge up to the camera.

Kenzi looked at the holograph overlay that
shimmered over the shiny gold shield. A pale-green photographic image of the
guard hovered above the badge—rotating from full front facial view to profile
then back again. The image matched the face staring back at her from the
vid-com.

“Just a moment,” she said and began
punching in the code to unlock the door. Opening the portal, she smiled at the
guard, he smiled back and then his face morphed into that of the Saurian
prisoner Randon and Sorn had brought back from Florida. Something vaguely
acidic hit her in the face and she sank to the floor in a heap.

Supper had been served and all except
Randon had partaken of the sumptuous meal Lauren Fowler had provided. Now they
were back in the living room with a carafe of coffee and a tray of homemade
macaroons before them. Cree had just described to her the tombstone they would
be looking for the next day.

“I know just the one you mean. Actually it’s
a crypt, not a tombstone,” Lauren said as she poured herself another cup of
coffee. “It belongs to a woman named Helena Papandrea. She used to rescue
greyhounds and little ones from puppy mills. A good woman by all accounts. She
was an old maid and left her millions to the Humane Society.” She took a seat
on the sofa and curled her bare feet beneath her. “Her crypt is very grandiose
for Milton.”

“I know the one you mean,” Coulter said. “I’ve
never seen it up close but I’ve noticed it when driving by the cemetery.”

“There are two torches on either side of
the crypt with perpetual flames atop them,” Lauren continued. “If memory
serves, the foundation that handled her will had a hell of a time getting a gas
line run through the cemetery to feed the torches. I believe a rather large
donation went into somebody’s pocket in order to see it done.”

“What about yew trees?” Cree inquired.

Lauren nodded. “They are there. The crypt
is surrounded by them and the door is a beautiful work of art. The building is
rose-colored marble but that door is solid copper and it has a laser-cut image
of Miss Helena sitting on an ornate throne with one hand on the head of a
greyhound.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “In the other hand she’s holding an
ornate key.”

“That’s got to be it,” Sorn said.

“How big is the key?” Cree asked.

Lauren’s brow furrowed. “I’d say maybe a
foot in height and a fourth that in width at the top.”

“Then it will fit the tabernacle,” the
Prime said with relief.

“All right then,” Kerreyder said, rubbing
his hands together. “First thing in the morning, we’ll get that bloody key and
be on our way.”

“I suggest you get a good night’s sleep,”
Lauren said. She nudged her chin toward her consort.

“We have put the two of you Reapers
together,” Jaleel said. “Prince Kerreyder you will have a room to yourself.” He
looked at Coulter. “You will have the smaller of the guest rooms.”

“What of Kayle?” Cree asked.

“He can sleep on the floor for all I care,”
Lauren said and at Randon’s snort she glanced at him. “Or in the mud outside
since he’s accustomed to the mire of the Abyss.”

“Fuck you, woman,” Randon said without
turning around.

“Jaleel, no!” Lauren was quick to stop her
consort from attacking him. She leaned forward and put her cup on the coffee
table in front of the couch.

“I will not allow him to speak to you in
such a way!” Jaleel hissed though he did not move from the spot where he had
leapt to his feet.

“Apologize, Kayle,” Cree ordered.

“Not in this lifetime or any other,” Randon
said. He headed for the front door. “I’ll sleep on the porch.”

“In the rain?” Coulter said. “Hell, no, you
won’t. You’ll bunk with me.” He stared hard at Lauren. “Is this your idea of Southern
hospitality, milady?”

“No, Dixon,” she said with a tight smile. “It
is called justice, but if you don’t mind being in his presence, by all means
let him share your room.”

“You’re with me, Kayle,” Coulter stated.

For a moment Randon hesitated then he
glanced around. His amber eyes went directly to Lauren. “I’ve done no harm to
any woman,” he said, “but for you I could make an exception.”

“There’s no call for that,” Cree said. “I
understand your anger, Kayle, but reel it in. The stakes are too high to let
this shit get in the way of us doing our jobs.”

“Do you even know how he came to be a
Nightwind?” Kerreyder asked quietly.

“No, and I don’t care,” Lauren said.

“You should. All he did was keep a Temple
Virgin from falling to her death and for that the Hell-hags slaughtered him.
Should he have let the bitch die?”

Lauren’s eyebrows drew together. “Why would
they have killed him for saving a woman’s life?”

“He dared put his filthy male hands on a
woman who was never to be touched by a man. For that his life was forfeit and
he was condemned to the Abyss as punishment. Think you that was fair, milady?”
Kerreyder queried.

Speculation settled on Lauren’s face as she
stared at Randon. He was glaring back at her with defiance.

“He is not Syntian Cree, milady. He’s never
killed anyone in his life,” Kerreyder said. “He is feared but only because he
is exceptionally good at what he does—tracking and catching creatures who would
otherwise terrorize or harm humans. Will you condemn him for that, as well?”

“He bound a line of witches to him,” Lauren
said, her jaw clenching. “He enslaved those women.”

“The first called him, drew him from the
Abyss,” Kerreyder said. “He offered himself to her and she accepted. She didn’t
have to.”

“She was alone, lonely!” Lauren defended
the long-dead female. “He offered her—”

“Power and aid. Companionship,” the
archdemon interrupted. “Things she wanted. He was the one enslaved, milady. Not
the woman. I repeat. He is not Syntian Cree.”

She stared at the Nightwind for a moment or
so longer then nodded. “All right. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
When Kerreyder started to walk away, she put out a hand to stop him. “But you
keep him on a tight leash or I will.”

Kerreyder inclined his head. “Duly noted.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Coulter said, walking
over to Randon. He didn’t give the Nightwind a chance to argue but snagged his
arm and pulled him toward the stairs.

“I don’t like to be—”

“Touched,” Coulter said with a roll of his
eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Me, neither.” He looked around at Jaleel. “Which
bedroom, dude?”

“Top of the stairs,” Jaleel replied,
glaring at Randon’s back. “First door on the right.”

“Much obliged,” Coulter said. He released
Randon’s arm, put his palm to the incubus’s back and lightly pushed him
forward. “Night all.”

“Up at dawn,” Cree called after, them and
when Coulter waved a hand in acknowledgement of the order, he turned to Jaleel.
“Our room?”

“Second door on the right,” Jaleel stated
in a voice that held a touch more courtesy. “Prince Kerreyder, your room is the
first door on the left.”

Kerreyder thanked him, gave Lauren one last
meaningful look then followed the other men up the stairs.

“Do you want me to handle Kayle?” Jaleel
asked as they watched their guest climb the stairs.

Lauren shook her head. “No, leave him be.
If the archdemon vouches for him, I’ll accept it.” She narrowed her eyes. “Besides,
I believe he has thrown a protection spell over the incubus. We wouldn’t be
able to touch him even if that was my wish.”

“But once the key is secured?” Jaleel
pressed.

“Something tells me I won’t have to worry
about punishing that particular Nightwind. Trouble is brewing, my demon.” She
looked toward the windows where lightning flared repeatedly. “Nasty, nasty
trouble.”

* * * * *

Kenzi woke up in a strange place lit by an
eerie green light. Where she lay was ice cold and there was a peculiar smell in
the air. It took her a moment to recognize the smell for what it
was—formaldehyde. The stench burned her eyes and clogged her nostrils. Her head
was swimming unmercifully. Her body was stiff. When she tried to move to
relieve the cramps in her legs, she realized she was strapped down.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to
extrapolate she was in the morgue on a stainless-steel autopsy table. The odd
green light emanated from the two emergency lights on either side of the
acoustical ceiling.

Fear raced through her chilled blood as she
turned her head to look around her. Her vision was blurry and the movement
added to the lightheadedness that made her sick to her stomach. She had no
doubt she’d been given something to induce unconsciousness. She also knew it
would do her no good to struggle for she was firmly confined to the cold table.

Despite the nausea and the dull ache in her
head, she tried to think back to how she came to be a prisoner. Everything
before she awoke was strangely indistinct. She remembered opening the door to
the security guard but after that it was a succession of rippling, undulating
images that she could not grab hold of. Sounds were distorted but she seemed to
recall the squeak of wheels and reasoned that must have been a gurney upon
which she’d been placed—no doubt with a sheet thrown over her so those who saw
her abductor would have thought she was a cadaver.

She opened her mouth to call out but
thought better of it. Her captor would have made certain there would be no one
to hear her and she wasn’t sure she should draw attention to herself just yet.
All she could do was lie there and scream her head off anyway but she was in
the bowels of the facility. The chances of being heard by the right person was
slight.

Who could have taken her? She wondered. And
why? As far as she knew she’d yet to make any enemies among the inmates. The only
logical explanation was one of the malevolent creatures had gotten loose and if
that was the case only God knew what he or she had in mind.

“You are immortal, now,”
Kerreyder said
. “You cannot die unless someone takes your head or
burns you to ashes and the ashes are scattered to the Four Winds. If you are
injured, your body will rejuvenate, heal quickly. You will not succumb to any
injury no matter how grave.”

But she could experience pain even if it
didn’t kill her. Obviously a great deal of it if she was reading her lover’s
meaning correctly. Fear of pain was one thing but the fear of being raped,
mutilated, grievously tortured made her shudder.

“Kerreyder?” she whispered. “Randon?”

Why did they have to be hundreds and
hundreds of miles away?

“Please help me,” she pleaded. “Your woman
needs you.”

“Call them all you like. They can’t hear
you.”

Kenzi whipped her head toward the sound of
the gloating voice that had intruded and wished she hadn’t. The nausea leapt up
her throat to gag her.

“
Triso
does that when given in a
large dosage,” the woman coming toward her said. “I suggest you lay very still
else you’ll puke.”

Swallowing convulsively, Kenzi felt a very
cool hand come to rest on her forehead. Expecting pain, brutality, she was
surprised when the woman gently moved her head back to a straight position.

“I’ll not harm you, girl, though I hate you
with every drop of blood flowing through my body,” the woman said. “You are a
means to an end. Nothing more.”

“Hate me?” Kenzi repeated. “Why would you hate
me?”

“For being Kerrey’s Blood-mate,” the woman
said. “He belongs to me!”

Naamah!
Kenzi
thought. She had to be the fallen angel, the demoness of whom Kerreyder had
told her. The female who had made him a man but thought to keep him her slave.

“Why are you doing this?” Kenzi asked. “What
is it you hope to accomplish?”

“You are the key,” Naamah said then
laughed. “Aye,
you
are the key!”

Kenzi knew why Kerreyder, Randon and the
one they called the Gravelord, as well as the two Reapers had gone to Florida.
The fate of the Megaverse rested on Randon’s shoulders. He had to find and take
possession of something called the Hades’ Key in order to keep a great evil
locked deep within the bowels of the Abyss. Should that evil escape and with
the only way to lock it up again in the hands of the succubae who hated
humankind, all living things within the Megaverse would be exterminated.

“He will not risk losing you,” Naamah said.
“I have the power to keep you from him for all eternity. I can take you to my
kingdom in Tine and though he is beneath the scorching sands of the Barren of
the Midlands, overseeing his designation as Warden of Prysson, he would never
see you again. So close yet as far away as the Moons of Avalyn. He cannot touch
me when I am safe inside Tine.”

The succubus trailed her cold fingers down Kenzi’s
cheek.

“And as for the Nightwind? Lilith will draw
him back to the Abyss and there he will remain for as long as time continues.” She
smiled hatefully. “There to suffer in the cold and dark and oozing filth that
will be his prison once again. Both males will suffer greatly because of you
while life ceases to exist throughout the Megaverse.”

“Kerrey will hate you for it,” Kenzi said. “You
do this and he will—”

“Oh, if he does what I order him to do,”
Naamah said, her voice as slithery as any viper’s, “I will grant him one day a
year with you. To use you as he sees fit from sunup ’til sundown. Trust me. For
that one day, he will do as I bid. The remainder of the year, he will service
me as I desire to be serviced.”

“You believe he’ll forsake all living
things across hundreds of worlds just for one day out of three hundred and
sixthy-five for me?” Kenzi scoffed.

“A year on Tine is over nine hundred days
on your pitiful world,” Naamah informed her. “And aye, he will. Think you he
cares anything for any mortal save you?” She snorted. “I assure you he does
not.”

Kenzi knew better. She had seen the horror
in her lover’s eyes as he’d explained to her why he had to join Randon in
Florida. Why he had to make the journey to ensure the Hades’ Key did not fall
into the wrong hands. Why the creature secured behind the Gate of
Caighean
must never be set free.

“We’ll see,” Kenzi said.

“Aye, we will,” Naamah sneered. “As soon as
he learns I have you, he’ll bargain with me for your release. Until I have the
key, he will not see hide nor hair of you.”

Though terror filled her soul, Kenzi turned
her face from the succubus and stared blindly across the room. The stink of the
embalming fluids only made her headache worse but she suspected the pain in her
temples was preventing Naamah from reading her thoughts.