Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind (7 page)

"These women can't leave the ship. If the security agent scans these women, he'll find traces of the Triso on them,” Sern warned. “He'll know they brought it to us and inform the authorities we have the med."

"Then we'd better come up with a plausible reason for these women to stay onboard the
Alluvia
,” Dorrie said.

"What plausible reason?” Sern inquired.

"We're dead meat,” Ramirez whined.

"We won't let that happen,” Kahmal said. “Open a line to Tobora Electronics, Deon."

Jose Ortega lifted his foot and placed it on the base of the stanchion by which he was standing. Taking out his handkerchief, he bent down to swipe at a smudge on the toe of his highly shined boot, making sure he kept a keen eye on the Amazeen ship that Sanchez and Ramirez had boarded. He had only his suspicions that the women were up to no good. Ramirez had been acting strangely, turning to look behind her every few minutes, as she and Sanchez left the warehouse for their noonday meal. Now considering where they had gone, he was convinced the women were guilty of something. What were the two doing on an Amazeen ship of all places?

A quartet of deliverymen walked past where Ortega was standing, all heading for the ship in question. He reached out to the last man. “Who are you with?” he asked.

The deliveryman recognized the security man. “Tobora Electronics, milord,” the man answered, fear of Ortega hovering in his pale gray eyes. “We are providing components for the Amazeen ship's duplicator."

"And where is the ship bound?” Ortega asked, his beady eyes narrowing.

"They are on their way to Rysalia Prime for the Feast of Alluvial,” the man replied, relaying what his manager had told him to say should they be stopped for any reason.

"They stopped here to pick up Daughters wishing to attend the Feast. You know how it is with the Multitude and their silliness."

"Aye, silliness is just what it is,” Ortega said and motioned the man on his way. He stared at the Amazeen ship as the deliverymen handed over the equipment to two tall women with fierce expressions. Deciding Sanchez and Ramirez were even more stupid than he thought to follow the dictates of a bizarre cult, he turned and sauntered away, cursing himself for wasting time. He made a mental note to see the women were fired summarily for traipsing off to some ridiculous female celebration.

"I don't know if it is wise to do this,” Kahmal said as Dorrie loaded the vac-syringe. “Going into the cell with him...."

"He won't hurt me,” Dorrie said. She held the vac-syringe up and flicked the glass barrel with her middle finger. “I'm not afraid of him."

Kahmal walked with her to the elevator that would take them down to the cargo hold and the containment cell. She glanced at Dorrie out of the corner of her eye. “Was it love at first sight for you, Burkhart?” she asked. “Have you always loved him?"

Dorrie snorted. “Not gods-be-damned likely,” she said and thought of the first time she'd come into contact with Kamerone Cree. “I believe the first words I ever said to him were we are going to restrain you now."

"I would imagine he did not like that."

"Hated it,” Dorrie said. “We tortured him that day. There was no other way to describe what we did.” She shrugged. “At first, I was impersonal about it. Hell, it was my job and I hated the Rysalians and especially the Reapers—Kamerone Cree being right at the top of my list but then.... “She stopped as the elevator settled and the doors shushed open.

"But then?” Kahmal questioned.

"Then I saw him cry,” she said softly and preceded the Amazeen from the elevator.

"Seeing him cry bothered you?” Kahmal pressed.

"It was the sixth morning of his stay in the Be-Mod unit,” Dorrie said. “He actually told me good morning and that shocked me.” She stopped, looking down at the vac-syringe. “He had been in there longer than any patient we'd ever had and Bridie had slipped behind the director's back and given him a sedative because he hadn't slept in five days. I think by then all of us were feeling a bit protective of him."

"Why?” Kahmal asked. “After all, he was a Reaper. Such treatment was normal for him wasn't it?"

"Not at the hands of a woman,” Dorrie said. She twisted the vac-syringe, watching the play of the overhead lights on the glass barrel. “No woman had ever hurt him before. No woman had ever dared.” She closed her eyes. “We almost lost him that day. He flat lined. He needed Triso and I went after it for him."

"Against orders?"

Dorrie nodded. “I could have been hanged if they'd caught me but at that point I didn't care. He was so helpless, so grateful for even the smallest hint of kindness we gave him that it tore at my heart.” She sighed. “I gave him the Triso and Bridie stayed with him because he didn't want her to leave him. As I walked away, I realized I was beginning to have feelings for him that I shouldn't. From then on my hand lingered longer and longer on his body when I was helping take care of him."

"Mayhap he spread a glamour over you,” Kahmal suggested. “Sent you a subliminal."

"No, he was too weak for such things and the neuroinhibitors flooding his system would not have allowed it. He was unable to send any kind of enthrallment our way."

They made their way to the door of the containment cell.

"I will always regret having hurt him as I did by going after him,” Kahmal said, staring at the door to the con cell.

"I hurt him badly once,” Dorrie said. “Cut him right to the quick."

"How?"

Dorrie's eyes brightened with unshed tears. “When he was in the Be-Mod unit, there were sublims being fed to him. Sublims to make him need Bridie, to fall in love with her so he would aid the Resistance. I told him about them."

Her words came back to haunt Dorrie:
"Did you really think she would fall in love with you without a little help from us, Cree?"

"What happened when he found out?"

"Nothing,” Dorrie said. She motioned for Kahmal to open the door to the cell.

"Are you sure you want to do this?” the Amazeen asked.

"Just open the door,” Dorrie snapped.

Kahmal took a deep breath and punched in the code, taking out her laser gun set to heavy stun to be on the safe side.

"You won't need that,” Dorrie told her. “He won't come out until he's no danger to us.” She slipped past the door and into the containment cell.

He was crouched in the corner, his eyes boring into her as she slowly approached him. She knelt down beside him.

"I have your med, Kami,” she said quietly, reaching out to stroke the wet fur of the beast. It growled at her, showing its teeth, but she did not snatch her trembling hand back. She continued to smooth the beast's matted coat until it stopped growling and gave a single, pitiful whimper.

"I know you are hurting, baby,” she said. “I'm here to make it better."

Tears brightened Dorrie's eyes as she bent over the beast. Sweeping aside a section of the wet hair on the side of the beast's neck, she eased the needle into its flesh. So drained was the animal, it barely flinched as the thick, fiery liquid shot through its system. It simply sighed, quivered, and lay still.

"Get out of there, Dorrie,” Kahmal ordered.

Dorrie got to her feet and backed away slowly, making no sudden moves that might be misconstrued in the Reaper's glazed eyes. “It's all right, baby,” she said. “Everything is going to be all right.” She was barely out the door before she heard a yowl that raised the hair on her arms. As the lock to the containment cell door clicked to behind her, she slumped against the wall, her face in her hands.

"I'll stay here until he's out of Transition,” Kahmal said gently. She had a dark green jumpsuit clutched in her arms and on the floor beside her was another pair of boots she hoped was the right size since the pair Prince Kamau had given Cree had ripped apart and was lying in pieces in the containment cell.

Dorrie was sobbing. Her heart ached for the proud man who had been reduced to the pathetic animal in the cell. She'd seen him many times at some of the lowest points in his life, but she'd never seen him looking as hopeless as she had in the containment cell.

"If I could get hold of the bitch who cursed him like that, I'd strangle her,” Dorrie said of the Reaper's long-dead mother.

Kahmal's eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean? What woman? What curse?"

Dorrie ran the back of her hand under her nose. “You don't know how he came to be a Reaper?"

"I know he was made, but I never cared enough to ask how,” Kahmal stated.

"Well, it's something you need to know. It goes a long way in explaining who he is."

"Then I am interested in learning."

"His mother cursed him before he was born,” Dorrie said. “She was one of the fabled Seven Sisters of the Sword, daughters of the royal house of Brell in Chale."

"I vaguely remember Hael Sejm saying something about the Seven Sisters. She was one of them."

Dorrie nodded and leaned against the wall. “They were attacked and raped by a band of Rysalians led by Drae Cree, Kam's father. All but one of them conceived, the exception being Sejm whom no man ever wanted to mount more than once."

"Understandable,” Kahmal said dryly. “Who would want to hump such a witch?"

"Because they'd been abducted from their home on Chale, raped and handed over as chattel to their rapists, Analeis Brell—Kamerone's mother—cursed the men and anything that might come of the rape. Analeis was Morrígú, the Seventh Daughter of a Seventh Daughter born with a caul, and her curse was fulfilled. When Kamerone was born, he was in beastly form but when he began changing to human form, his mother took on the animal nature herself. Drae Cree thought she was a beast trying to devour his son—for Analeis was cleaning off the afterbirth—and he killed her."

"So in essence she not only cursed her unborn child, she cursed herself,” Kahmal said.

"She became the beast she had made of her son,” Dorrie said.

A long howl of grief undulated from the containment cell.

"Help him!” Dorrie cried out to whatever entity was nearby. “Stop his torment!"

Another wavering whine came from the cell, but it died down quickly as though an unseen hand had been laid on the suffering animal's head to soothe it.

Sanchez and Ramirez were none too happy about traveling with the Amazeen but neither had a great desire to have Jose Ortega get his grubby hands on them. The Ionarians had taken the Major up on her offer to take them with her to Rysalia Prime. From there, they hoped to be able to find their way back to Ionary. At least with the Daughters of the Multitude they believed they'd be safe. It wasn't until the Reaper walked into the lounge and began glaring at them that they knew they had gone from the frying pan directly into the fire.

"More women?” the Reaper shouted, his hands clenching into fists at his side. “You picked up more women?"

"Now, Cree...” the Major began.

"C ... Cree?” Ramirez repeated.

"I didn't need any more gods-be-damned women! I'm drowning in estrogen now!"

"Reaper!” Ramirez yelped, her eyes rolled back into her head and she fainted, dropping to the floor in a heap.

"See?” Cree snarled, pointing at the unconscious woman. “You see?"

Sanchez was staring at him with her mouth open and closing though no sound came out, her eyes wide and popping from her head. Like her friend, she knew exactly what he was and she was quivering in fright for the first time in her life.

"Shut your mouth, woman!” Cree yelled at her. “You look like a gods-be-damned trout flopping on the bank of a dry stream!"

"Stop scaring her,” Kahmal told him. “If it wasn't for her, you wouldn't have gotten the Triso!"

"I don't need this!” the Reaper bellowed and turned to stomp off, his new boots too large for his feet and clomping against the floor.

It was Sern who was the first to laugh. She had read things in the Reaper's mind that set her sides to splitting with laughter. Beside her, Ceatie was grinning as though he understood what had set his humanoid mistress to cackling with mirth.

"Poor Kamerone,” Dorrie said, prying herself up out of her misery. “He's got two more females to worry about."

"Reaper,” Sanchez repeated and had to fold her hands under her arm pits to keep them from trembling so violently.

"Aye,” Chanz agreed, “but he's our Reaper."

Dorrie sat down beside him as he hunkered once more in the containment cell. It was there he had gone to exorcize the demons that were riding him with jagged spurs. She leaned against his leg and it was an indication of how drained he was that he didn't order her not to touch him.

"Just consider us your harem, Kam,” she said.

"It's not funny, Dorrie,” he muttered. “I don't need all this pressure on my shoulders."

"It's all in the perspective, baby,” she teased.

"Ten women,” he bemoaned. “Ten fucking women."

"Some of us would be if you'd allow it but...."

He growled a warning at her.

"Okay, okay. We'll be at Rysalia Prime day after tomorrow,” she informed him. “You'll be exchanging ten of us for ten thousand."

"Don't remind me,” he said on a long sigh.

"You'll look back on this time and have plenty of stories to tell Jaelin,” she said, caressing his knee. “Just think of the insulting things you can impart to him about the weaker sex."

Cree snorted. “Weaker my sore ass,” he responded.

"Want me to stroke it and make it better?” she offered.

He sighed again. “Dorrie...."

"Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked.

"I remember you jamming an airline down my throat in the Be-Mod unit,” he answered. “And you were none too gentle doing it, wench."

"Aye, well, you weren't breathing,” she said. “I wasn't going to tippy toe putting in the tube."

"And you gave me Triso when I wasn't supposed to get it."

"Did I do that?"

"You know gods-be-damned well you did,” he countered with a yawn.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for sexy amber eyes."

"Dorrie to the rescue,” he said and surprised the hell out of her by laying his head on her shoulder. “Gods, but I'm tired. My head hurts,” he said.