Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind (39 page)

"Oh, my,” Beryla said, shivers running down her spine. “I'm not sure our little blue-green planet is ready for thirteen Reapers. One was bad enough."

"Fourteen with Bridie,” Ivonne corrected.

"Now that is a very uneasy thought,” Amala said.

It was a balmy 64 degrees that lovely May morning as Bridget drove along the serpentine blacktop winding amidst the pristine one hundred and seventy acres of lush rolling hills Aurora Burds had purchased for her getaway home. The magnificent six bedroom log structure had been built in the middle of old yellow bark pine acreage and had a panoramic view of the Red Canyon in the Southern Black Hills.

"There's Old Pete, Ma,” Jaelin said, pointing to the scruffy elk munching grass at the edge of the private roadway. The elk looked up, shook its heavy rack, and then went back to grazing.

"We need to get some more salt blocks for our friendly elk and deer neighbors,” Bridie said. “Along with the cracked corn for the wild turkeys."

Jaelin nodded absently, returning his attention to the hand-held game he was rapidly plying with both thumbs. Thankfully he had the sound muted else his mother would have been grinding her teeth. His head was lowered, the hood of his black sweatshirt cocked to one side on his broad shoulders. He had both feet planted on the dashboard of the Dodge Ram pickup his mother was driving. His knees were crooked, the laces of one black tennis shoe partially untied, the leg bouncing nervously as he played the game.

Bridie glanced over at her son and—as it always did—her heart filled with pride. Jaelin had his father dark good looks with a head full of glossy brown curls that tended to sweep low over the boy's forehead. A year before, he had cajoled Bridie into allowing him to get his ear pierced and he now sported a slim gold hoop that had once belonged to his father. From the black t-shirt under the hoodie to the black jeans and black sneakers, the only thing different between father and son was the deep, vibrant green of Jaelin's eyes, though his eyelashes had the same long, gently upswept spikiness Kamerone's possessed.

"Why black?” his mother asked, a bit concerned that every piece of clothing her son purchased was that somber color.

"I don't know,” Jaelin had shrugged. “I just like it. It makes me feel special."

"You are special,” Bridie assured him.

"Yes ma'am, but you know...."

And she had known. Like father, like son. As far as Jaelin knew his father was imprisoned in a distant, enemy land but there were forces at work vying for his release. The one and only photograph Bridie had of the man who had sired him sat on Jaelin's dresser in a gilt frame that bore the numerous fingerprints of son and wife, the glass often smeared with the lip smudges and tears of the woman who loved him. The photograph always accompanied them to the Black Hills each year.

"He's a real dude, huh, Ma?” Jaelin had once asked.

"He's truly Prime,” she had replied.

Jaelin looked up from his game. “Can we go up to Wind Cave again soon, Ma?” he asked.

Bridie smiled. “You like it up there, don't you?” They had spent many hours taking the various cave tours. It was among Jaelin's favorite things to do.

"Yes ma'am, I really do.” He frowned.

"What's the matter?” Bridie asked. For the last year she'd been on pins and needles and every little twinge that affected her son caught her attention. He was so close to that mystical, magical line all males crossed between the ages of eleven and fifteen. Already his voice was beginning to embarrass him by cracking at the oddest times.

"I'm hungry,” he announced. He reached behind the seat to the bag of chips he had stashed there alongside cartons of malted milk balls, pretzels, cheese curls, and only the gods knew what else.

Like father, like son.

"When we get into Hot Springs, we can go to the diner if you want,” Bridie said. “Today's Taco Tuesday."

Jaelin's white teeth sparkled with a grin that turned his young face from being merely handsome to absolutely breathtaking. “All right! I want a ton of fried jalapenos with cream cheese on the side!"

Bridie groaned. Like Kamerone, his son had a cast iron stomach.

"Have you been feeling a bit too warm lately, sweetie?” his mother asked, giving him another curious glance.

"No ma'am.” Always polite, proud of his southern heritage, Jaelin never failed to show the manners his mother had taught him. He was unfailingly courteous around women and older people—opening doors for them, carrying packages if they'd let him, helping them across the street. His was a kind and gentle heart and combined with the face of a young dark god, the people of Hot Springs, SD never failed to notice him when he and his mother came to town.

"You really ought to enroll him in school,” one woman had suggested—at the prodding of her daughter Bridie was sure.

"He's home schooled,” Bridie said and soon found a member of the board of education on her doorstep to investigate her credentials for teaching her son at home. The man had gone away with a very healthy respect for Bridget and her near-genius offspring.

Hot Springs was a beautiful town with turn of the century sandstone buildings spreading out along the town square. The people were friendly and the town had everything Bridie and her son required: a taco shop, a sub shop, assorted fast food places, a really excellent diner, hardware store, movie rental store, and quaint shops in which to while away a few minutes. It was a great place to live near and it suited mother and son just fine. Each spring they took advantage of Aurora's offer to hibernate in the luxury log home.

But never when Bridget was close to Transition.

"Another trip for Aunt Beryla?” Jaelin would ask when he'd see his mother packing.

"Yep, gonna be gone a week or so."

Though she hated to lie to her son, the truth was not possible until she was sure Jaelin could handle the knowledge of what his mother had become and what his father was. The closer it came to her son's first time, the more nervous Bridget became.

"You should warn him of what's to come, Bridie,” both Beryla and Aurora had cautioned but it was something Bridget kept putting off. She knew when her son began to change, it would frighten him, but it would underscore what he was much stronger than her telling him ever could.

"Not feeling itchy or anything like that, are you?” she asked as she put on the left turn signal to pull into the gas station.

Jaelin looked over at her. “No, ma'am. Why?"

"Just wondering,” she replied, pulling up to the tank. “Wanna pump the gas for me?"

"Sure."

Several teenage boys were lurking around in front of the convenience store and they gave Jaelin the once over. Bridget paid no attention. She knew there were vibes her son gave off unconsciously that would make any other male think twice about challenging him. When he took the money inside for the gas, they'd step aside for him, mumble a stiff greeting, and not even understand why they felt compelled to do so.

But girls were another matter, Bridie thought as she spied three pre-teen girls sitting on a bench across the street staring openly at Jaelin. She turned her head to watch them and had to purse her lips when they giggled loud enough to gain her son's attention. She saw him glance at them and was fairly sure he was returning their close scrutiny as he stood with his hand unnecessarily on the nozzle's handle, bent over so he could look over the hood at them.

One girl—obviously braver or more brazen than the other two—actually lifted a hand to wave her fingers at him and Bridie had to hide a laugh when Jaelin tossed his head and swept his free hand through his dark hair. She could have sworn he gave the little tart a quick nod of the head to accompany that matinee idol gesture and she was even surer he was grinning that lopsided little smirk that was so like his father's.

"Gonna be a heartbreaker, that one,” Beryla had pronounced.

Fishing in her purse, she came up with the two twenties to pay for the gas. She flicked the electric window down on the passenger side and leaned over to hand her son the money. She watched Jaelin strut into the convenience store and past the teenage boys—older and bigger than him—who, indeed, stepped aside and nodded. Jaelin nodded back and went on inside, casting one final glance over his shoulder at the girls across the street.

More giggles erupted from across the street and as Bridget put a hand to her mouth to still her laughter, the brazen girl came sprinting across the street, her short skirt swaying around narrow little hips.

"Hi,” the girl said, coming up to Bridget's side of the truck.

"Hi back,” Bridie said.

"I'm Siobhan Foster,” the girl said, politely extending a hand.

Bridget took it. “Bridget,” she replied.

"What's his name?” the girl asked, her periwinkle blue eyes gleaming.

"Jaelin."

"Oooh,” Siobhan said. “You're staying out to the Burd House, aren't you?"

Bridget flinched. She hated that name. “Yes we are."

"And you home school Jae, huh?"

Jae? Bridget silently repeated.

"Yes, I do."

"Well, my parents are having a barbeque this Saturday and I thought maybe you'd like to come over."

A slow, knowing grin spread over Bridie's face. “I'll have to ask Jaelin what he thinks but...."

The girl's attention snapped away from Bridget and she realized Siobhan had been waiting for Jaelin to come out of the convenience store. If it was possible for a pre-teenage to do so, Siobhan Foster began to melt where she stood. It was one thing to get a glimpse at a young dark god across the street but to have him coming toward you in all his earthy glory was a different matter altogether.

Jaelin gave his mother a glance as he opened the door and got into the truck.

"Jaelin, this is Siobhan,” Bridie introduced.

"Hey,” Jaelin acknowledged and once more his hand plowed through his hair.

"Hey, right back atcha,” Siobhan said on a long sigh. Her fingers were curled over the window ledge.

"Siobhan has invited us to a barbeque at her parents’ house this Saturday,” Bridie told her son.

"Cool.” The word was cavalier and spoken in a deep bass voice that made Bridget turn to stare at her son.

"Then you'll come?” Siobhan asked much too eagerly.

"We'll see,” he said in that same deep tone. He gave his mother another glance and cocked a dark brow.

"Oh, yeah, right,” Bridie said, mentally picking up on her son's suggestion and wondering if he was even aware he'd nudged her. “Gotta run, Siobhan.” She reached for the key.

"I'll call you, okay?” Siobhan asked. “The Burd House is in the book, right?"

"Yes,” Bridie said with a wince.

"See ya, Jaelin,” the young girl said.

Jaelin propped a foot on the dashboard and rested his wrist on his knee. “Take care, milady,” he said once more in that strange, adult-sounding voice.

Bridie's mouth dropped open and she couldn't get the truck in gear fast enough, practically peeling out of the convenience store parking lot and leaving Siobhan staring at them.

"Milady?” Bridie questioned. “Milady?"

Jaelin shrugged. “Whatever,” he said and took up his electronic game again, bringing his other foot up to the dash. “We gonna get those tacos, Ma?"

After a satisfying wallow in all the tacos and fried jalapenos he could eat washed down with copious amounts of ice-cold root beer, Jaelin had begged his mother to drive over to Wind Cave. They had spent the afternoon touring the caves he was beginning to know like the back of his hand.

"Why do these caves fascinate you so, sweetie?” she asked as they'd gone back to their car to drive home.

"There's just something so alien about them,” Jaelin had responded. “It's almost like being on another world when you're inside, you know?"

She did know ... only too well.

The phone was ringing when they returned home.

"I'll get it,” Jaelin said in an off-handed way that belied the hurrying of his footsteps up the steps, fishing his set of keys out of his jeans’ pocket.

"If it's for me, I'm not here,” Bridie said with a laugh.

Stepping up on the porch, she heard that strange word once more: milady and sighed deeply. It brought back such aching memories and she suddenly felt so old, so alone. Thinking to give her son some privacy, she sat down in one of the white rocking chairs Aurora had bought and stretched out her legs. The air was a bit cooler now and she pulled her cardigan tighter over her chest. The view was so beautiful, so peaceful, yet her heart felt anything but. When the first real spike of uneasiness pricked at her, she barely noticed it for melancholy had washed over her entire being.

How long the woman had been standing at the edge of the bushes that flanked each side of the cabin, Bridie didn't know. She became aware of her only when the parasite inside her began to writhe beneath the skin of Bridie's back. Very slowly, she got to her feet and walked to the porch railing.

"May I help you?” Bridie asked, not liking the intense feeling crawling over her or the painful movement of the parasite.

The woman stepped away from the bushes and across the grass. She was slender with long brown hair worn in a thick braid that hung over her left shoulder. She was dressed in faded jeans and a bulky cable knit white sweater and black hiking boots. “Hello,” she said as she neared the porch.

"Are you lost?” Bridie asked.

"No.” She turned to point over the ridge that separated Aurora's land from the next estate. “I live over there."

Agitation was flooding Bridie's system and she could hear the accelerated beat of her heart. She knew the other woman could, too.

"We felt you last year when you were visiting but we never got a chance to visit,” the woman said.

"We?” Bridie said, her brow furrowed. “Who else knows we're here?"

"That would be me."

Bridie jumped, spinning around to see a tall, very intimidating man standing at the opposite side of the porch. Dressed entirely in black—long sleeve pullover sweater, black leather pants and black boots—there was no mistaking what he was. She backed toward the front door.