A Reaper's Love (WindWorld) (21 page)

At least he had the presence of mind to
snatch open the back door and pluck Laci’s blouse from the backseat. He
clutched it to him as he looked around the clearing—wide-eyed and
trembling—alongside the Mage.

The creature that rose from the nether side
of the tallest hill was enough to scare the bravest of men. Large, pointed ears
were crowned with spiky tufts of ragged, matted gray fur. An overhanging brow
that shadowed its red eyes were deep-set above a black snout that resembled
that of a bear. A black maw of a mouth revealed sharp fangs when the creature
grimaced. Huge paws and extremely large feet ended in thick, yellow claws. The
stench clinging to the creature brought tears to Coulter’s eyes it was so sharp
and pungent.

“Puny Gravelord has wet his pants,” the Big
Gray Man complained with a growl. “And what squishes in the pants of the Mage I
care not to contemplate.”

“
Vainshtyr
, please. Could you please
dial down the terror vibes?” the Mage asked.

“You call yourself a Mage,” the Guardian of
the Doorway sniffed. “I have hemorrhoids more powerful than you.”

But
An Fear Liath Mor
reduced the
frightening aspects of its personality to a mild unease then plopped down on
the ground. The earth rumbled under its weight.

“Give me the garment,” he commanded,
reaching out a hairy paw.

Coulter took mincing steps toward the
creature and jumped back as soon as the shirt was in the Big Gray Man’s hand.

The creature took a sniff of the shirt and
smiled. “The Mate of the Pussy Boy smells good,” he pronounced then closed his
huge eyes. A frown wrinkled his black forehead for a moment then smoothed. He
cocked one eye open. “You are in luck.” He closed his eye and curled his big
toes.

Neither Coulter nor the Mage wanted to ask
what the Big Gray Man meant. They looked at each another and the Mage shrugged.

“She is well, though she is very angry,”
An
Fear Liath Mor
stated. “Not frightened even a little bit. Just angry.” He
opened his eyes. “Stalwart woman is the Mate of the Pussy Boy.”

“Where is she?” Coulter asked.

“Not far from here,” was the answer. “In
the mountains where I can get to her handily.”

“Tell us and we—”

“Where
I
can get to her handily,”
the Big Gray Man stressed. He tossed the shirt to Coulter. “Where
you
will stay away from her.”

“But I—”

“Shush!” the Guardian of the Doorway
snapped. “I am talking with her.”

Coulter closed his mouth with a click of
his teeth.

An Fear Liath Mor
snarled. “Traps have been set for you,” he said. “Deadly traps
designed to kill even a so-called Gravelord.”

“How?” the Mage asked.

“Something she calls incendiaries.”

“Fire bombs,” Coulter said.

“That might do it,” the Mage agreed.

“I will go now and extract her and leave
those who would have hurt the Mate of the Pussy Boy to their own nasty ends,”
the Big Gray Man said and he tossed Laci’s shirt to Coulter then vanished in
the blink of an eye.

“Assuming she’s in a cabin up here,” the
Mage said. “And it’s wired with explosives, how’s he going to get her out of
there without blowing the place up? My guess is she’s wired as well.”

“Fuck,” Coulter said. “He could bumble into
something—”

A loud explosion ripped through the morning
air with enough force to shake the ground under their feet. As the two men
looked toward the sound, a huge fireball mushroomed into the sky.

“Sweet Merciful Alel,” the Mage said. “We
wouldn’t have stood a chance in that.”

Coulter used his psi powers to reach out to
Laci but—just as they had all morning—they fell short of finding or contacting
her. He suspected she had been banded with iron to prevent him from locating
her. “Get in the car!” he said.

Before they reached the vehicle, a rank
smell of burning fur wafted over the clearing and they turned, looking back.
There stood the Big Gray Man—his fur smoldering—and in his large, furry arms
was Laci, her arms around the creature’s neck.

“Close call, Dixon,” she said with a grin.

She didn’t seem affected in the least by
the uncontrollable sense of terror that washed over the two men. Each was
trembling violently from the sudden, overpowering panic that had gripped them
but she did not seem moved by the trepidation and anxiety they were
experiencing.

“The iron,”
An Fear Liath Mor
said.
“It keeps her from being afraid.”

Laci had a choker around her neck and a
band around each wrist.

“Isn’t he the cutest thing?” she asked,
smiling up at the creature.

“She has good taste in males,” the Big Gray
Man said with a nod.

“She’s drugged,” the Mage said. “Her eyes
are dilated.”

An Fear Liath Mor
lowered her gently to the ground then clumsily patted her head with
his giant paw. “The Pussy Boy chose well with this one.”

Despite the fear lancing his soul, Coulter
came forward and grabbed Laci, dragging her into the safety of his arms. He
heard a low growl from the creature but ignored it.

“I’m okay, Dixon,” she said. She pushed
against his hold until he released her. “Really.”

“How many were in the cabin with her?” the
Mage asked, shooting Coulter a nasty look.

“Two were inside. Four were outside
guarding it. They ran inside to get away from me.” He made a rude sound with
his big, rubbery black lips. “I barely had time to grab her and flee before
their rash act turned the structure to rubble.” He batted at one arm where the
fur was still smoking.

“Hopefully those who set the trap were
caught in it,” the Mage said. “Laci, how many more were involved with your
kidnapping?”

“Just one,” she said. “The Reverend Samuel
Lansing, but there’s a dozen or so more lying in wait at their so-called
cathedral in case you were able to rescue me.”

“So they’re waiting for us,” Coulter said.

“With an arsenal of assault rifles,” she
said. “And they are all banded.”

“Shit,” the Mage said. “That means they are
immune to Byleth and his demons.”

“They’re worse than those fanatics up in
Oregon,” she told them. “Much worse. This Rev. Lansing is certifiable and mean as
a ghoret.”

“Ugh,” An Fear Liath Mor. “I hate those
stinking things.”

“I assume they’ve got their children and
women folk battened down in the compound,” the Mage said. “Are they banded as
well?”

“I don’t know,” Laci answered. “My guess is
yes.”

“So we have two choices,” Coulter said. “We
leave them alone and come back to fight another day or we go after them despite
the arsenal.”

“I’ve no desire to get vented,” the Mage
said.

“Not high on my bucket list, either,”
Coulter said.

“Or mine,” Laci admitted.

An Fear Liath Mor
tapped a long claw against his chin. “I sense this compound of
which you speak is in my mountains.”

“It is,” Laci told him.

“I could handle this if you like,” the Big
Gray Man said quietly.

“How?” Coulter asked.

“I could transport them to another realm
where they will do harm to no one save themselves,” he said.

“You can do that?” Laci asked.

An Fear Liath Mor
puffed out his chest and jabbed a big, hairy thumb against his
massive pectoral. “I am the Guardian of the Doorway. I can move mountains if
need be.”

“The iron isn’t a problem for you?” Coulter
asked.

“He found Laci despite the fact she is
banded with iron,” the Mage said.

“Iron, schmiron,” the creature said. “It
has no effect on me. My masters saw to that.”

“What of their bullets?” Laci queried. “We
don’t want you to get hurt,
Vainshtyr.”

“Call me Coim, Mate of the Pussy Boy. You
are a steadfast female and have earned the honor,” he told her.

“The honor is mine,” she said.

“Bullets bounce off me, dearling,”
An
Fear Liath Mor
told her. “Nothing can wound or kill me. I am as eternal as
my beloved mountains.”

“If you will round these bastards up and
get them out of our hair, we would greatly appreciate it,” the Mage said.

“Consider it done.”

That said, the creature vanished.

Coulter wanted to hug Laci to him again but
the Mage was giving him a warning look. Instead, he swept his hand toward the
car. “Let’s get out of here for now. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

“I hope you guys didn’t check out of the
motel already,” Laci said. “I need a bath.” She blushed. “I smell like Coim.”

“Yeah, you do,” Coulter said absently.
“Fortunately we didn’t check out but I think we need to get back to the
Exchange.”

“Why the hurry?” the Mage asked.

“If
Vainshtyr
can transport members
of the NFC to some other realm and he’s willing to work with us, think of the
possibilities!” he said as they got into the car. He reached under the dash to
start the car, fumbling with the wires.

“Not following,” the Mage said. “Laci,
where are your keys?”

“Probably still in the pocket of my jeans
and they’re in my laundry bag,” she said. “We’re gonna have to pay extra for
hotwiring this baby when we turn it in.”

“Coulter can pay for it,” the Mage
grumbled.

“How many Taliban and al-Qaeda and other
terrorists do you think are hiding out in the mountains of Afghanistan and
other Middle Eastern countries?”

“Hundreds, thousands,” Laci replied. “Why?”

“
Vainshtyr
’s powers are only good in
the mountains. He could snatch those bastards up and pluck them down in some
galaxy far, far away where they can rot for all I care,” Coulter said. He put
the car in gear and did a three-point turn to get them headed away from the
clearing.

“Works for me,” Laci said. “Just think of
the possibilities! We’ve got homegrown terrorists in the mountains of Montana
and Utah too.”

“Not to mention kidnappers, child molesters
and all manner of miscreants living up there,” the Mage said. “All we’d need to
do is identify them for
Vainshtyr
then sit back and let him go to town
on their asses.”

“We need a central place to put them all,”
Coulter said. “Some place they can do away with one another if they feel like
it.”

“Some place without weapons or the means to
make them,” Laci said. “Where there are no animals but plenty of fruits and
vegetables where they won’t starve.”

“Meat eating has shown to be a contributing
factor to male aggression,” the Mage commented.

“And it needs to be a place where other
races can’t get to them,” Coulter said. “Rescue them or use them against us.”

“Races like the Ceannus,” the Mage said.

Coulter shot him a look in the rearview
mirror as the Mage lounged in the backseat. “I don’t know who they are but I
don’t like the sound of them.”

“Trust me,” the Mage said. “They are not a
race you want to get to know up close and personal.”

“We can talk to the Supervisors about
this,” Laci said. She turned in the front passenger seat to look at the Mage.
“They do know about
Vainshtyr,
don’t they
?”
At his silent nod,
she turned back around. “I wonder why Taylor never mentioned him to me.”

“He’s a very well-kept secret,” the Mage
said. “A last resort.”

“But one I hope we can utilize,” Coulter
said. “We’re losing the war against terror whether we want to admit it or not.
Everything we can add to our arsenal will help.”

“Did he sing for you?” Fallon asked. He was
sitting beside his wife in the lounge at the Exchange. With him at the table
were Taylor, Laci, Viraiden and Bronwyn Cree, and Darkyn Sorn.

Coulter had not been invited.

“No,” Laci said. “Does he usually?”

Fallon laughed as he looked at his lady.
“He’s been known to, aye.”

“He is a sweetheart,” Keenan said. “It is
quite a coup to have him grant you the honor of calling him by his first name.”

“Which is?” Sorn inquired.

“None of your business,” Fallon replied
with a smirk. “If you ever have dealings with him, he probably won’t tell you
since you’re a—”

“Pussy boy,” he and Cree said in unison.

“I take it he doesn’t like cats,” Sorn
said.

“Not so,” Fallon said. “He tells me they
taste good when slowly simmered in a stew.” He chuckled at Sorn’s wide-eyed
look.

“You guys are awful,” Bronwyn said. “I’d
like to meet
An Fear Liath Mor
one day.”

“The Supervisors weren’t pleased that he
wouldn’t answer their summons,” Laci said. “They’re going to ask you to contact
him, Misha.”

“Not a problem,” the Hell-hound said before
taking a long swig of his iced vodka.

“He wouldn’t answer Coulter, either,”
Taylor said with some satisfaction. “I take it he doesn’t like the Gravelord.”

“Doesn’t trust him is more like it,” Cree
stated. He scooted his chair back. “That’s our song, milady.” He held his hand
out to his wife.

Bronwyn took it and followed him onto the
dance floor as the melodious sounds of the High Kings singing
Red is the
Rose
came from the jukebox.

“I wish I had a dollar for every time Cree
has played that song,” Sorn grumbled.

“It’s their song,” Fallon said then looked
at his wife. “We have one too.”

“We don’t,” Laci complained. She nudged
Taylor. “We need to get one.”

“Don’t look now but the Supervisor is
headed this way,” Sorn said under his breath.

“Mine or yours?” Taylor asked.

“Yours.”

“Reynaud, Fallon!” the Supervisor stated as
he neared the table. “Have you not been hearing me?”

Taylor and Fallon exchanged a surprised
look and it was Fallon who looked up at the irate Shadowlord. “Were you
calling?”

“In my office. The both of you.
Now
!”
Constantine Hesar snarled. He pivoted on his heel with military precision and
marched back the way he came.

“And he didn’t send his lap dog Cobb
because…?” Fallon grumbled as he and Taylor got up from the table.

“He’s been sitting over in the corner for
the last half hour staring at us,” Sorn said.

“I didn’t notice him,” Taylor said.

“I don’t imagine you were supposed to,”
Laci said. “Something must have just come up or he’d have come over before
now.”

“Wonder why we didn’t hear him,” Taylor
said, falling in beside Fallon.

“I don’t know about you but I wasn’t
listening for him,” Fallon quipped. “I try to pretend the bastard doesn’t
exist.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor
and were greeted with a scowling Cobb who didn’t bother to speak to them. The
Supervisor’s assistant merely waved them on into the conference room.

Fallon opened the door, walked through,
then cursed under his breath. “What’s he doing here?” he asked.

Coulter was seated at the conference table
with the Supervisor.

“Shut the door, Reynaud,” the Supervisor
ordered. “And take a seat.”

“What now?” Fallon snarled as he yanked a
chair from the table and sprawled into it.

“Sit your ass up like a civilized human
being!” the Supervisor shouted at the top of his lungs, his eyes wide, face
red.

“All right already,” Fallon mumbled. “Don’t
have a fucking cow.”

“That will be enough, Fallon,” Coulter said
softly.

Fallon went as still as death. “Excuse me?”
he asked—his voice a low growl.

“You heard me,” Coulter said. “You will
show the Supervisor the respect he is due or you’ll answer to me.”

“Anytime, anywhere,” Fallon stated.

“You want your ass put down, keep it up,”
Coulter warned. “I’ll be happy to oblige you, Hell-hound.”

“Guys, come on,” Taylor said. “There’s no
reason to lose your tempers here.”

“I haven’t lost my temper,” Coulter
replied. “I’ve lost my patience. Trust me. There’s a difference.” He leaned
over the table. “You took an oath, Fallon. Don’t make me slap your ass in a con
cell for the next year so you won’t forget what you swore to.”

“You think you can?” Fallon challenged.

“I
know
I can,” Coulter replied.

The two Reapers stared daggers at one
another. The air was rife with violence, the waves of it undulated through the
room.

“You’re a loose cannon, Fallon. I really
don’t like you,” Coulter said at last.

“Well, I fucking hate you so it makes us
even, doesn’t it?” Fallon said with a sneer.

“That’s enough,” the Supervisor said.
“We’ve got more serious problems to handle than the pissing contest in which
you two seem to want to engage.”

“Another time,” Coulter stated.

“Count on it,” Fallon vowed.

“What’s the meeting about?” Taylor asked.

The Supervisor exhaled loudly, gaining the
attention of the other men. “First, I want to say good job out in Oregon. The
media had a field day with the NFC members telling everyone who’ll listen how
they were attacked by demons.” He chuckled. “Their credibility went to below
zero and with the members of the mother church in Kentucky suddenly vanishing,
any sympathizers they might have had are certainly questioning their motives
now.”

“Considering all the funds from both
churches are also missing,” Coulter said with a grin.

“Nothing like thieving religious fanatics
to cool the ardor of potential devotees,” the Supervisor added.

“We can cross them off our list of
targets,” Coulter said. “But a new target has popped up in Upstate New York.
We’re going to need all hands on deck to take this target down.”

“How so?” Taylor inquired.

“General Blaine Dexter,” the Supervisor
said. “Ring any bells, Reynaud?”

Taylor frowned. “Isn’t he the ex-Green
Beret who was a POW in Hanoi?”

“The one and the same. National hero and
all that. He came home and rode a desk until retirement then went into
politics. Right now, he’s running for senator from NY State.”

“And this is our problem?” Fallon
questioned, glaring at Coulter.

“It is when he’s leading the polls and
looks like a shoo-in,” the Supervisor said. “We can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?”

“He’s on the payroll of a foreign national
who has very close ties to North Korea.”

“So have Homeland Security take his ass
out,” Fallon said.

“We can’t tell them about this,” Coulter
said.

“Why the fuck not?” Fallon demanded.

“He’s surrounded by a cadre of
balgairs
.”

“At least fifty,” Coulter said. “Maybe
more.”

“All of the secret service agents assigned
to protect him are
balgairs
,” the Supervisor said.

Fallon’s dark brows shot up. “You’re
joking,” he whispered.

“Do you really think we’d joke about
something like this?” the Supervisor asked.

“But how?” Taylor asked.

“That’s what we need to know,” the
Supervisor said. “If the North Koreans are making Rogue Reapers over there, we
need to put a stop to it. The implications are too horrific to think about.”

“I know neither of you want to work in the
field and that’s understandable,” Coulter said, ignoring Fallon’s hiss of
irritation. “So Cree, Sorn and I are going to be doing the heavy lifting on
this. What we need you two to do is coordinate. We’re hoping
Mo Regina
will
lend us a few other Reapers from Europe and South America to help out.”

“How are you going to take out the
balgairs
?”
Taylor asked, looking from the Supervisor to Coulter and back again.

“Our lab has developed a nerve toxin that
is as deadly for
balgairs
as ghoret venom is to a human,” the
Supervisor.

“Wouldn’t it also be deadly for any human
turned Reaper?” Fallon asked. His stare was steady on Coulter.

“If that Reaper had no other defenses,”
Coulter said. “Such as the constitution of a Superlord.” He smiled without
mirth. “No need to worry about me, Fallon. The toxin might give me the runs but
that’s about all it will do to me.”

“What kind of delivery system will you be
using?” Taylor asked.

“My brother has suggested a signet ring
with a poison well,” the Supervisor said. “A spring-loaded pin with such a fine
point on it the
balgair
won’t even feel the prick when it is
administered. There will be enough poison in each ring well to put down three
balgairs
.”

“There will be a fifty-sixty minute kill
window,” Coulter said. “If we have them drop dead at our feet the moment we
pass them, things might get a bit harried.”

“We also need to put the general out of
commission,” the Supervisor said. “We want to take him alive since he’ll be
spending some quality time with my brother at Baybridge.”

“In the deepest pit there is my guess,”
Fallon said with a snort.

Coulter arched a brow. “Does that bother
you?”

“Not in the least. It’s sure to make Cree’s
day. I’m all for keeping the Alpha Prime happy,” Fallon replied.

“Good, then let your Extensions know what’s
happening and ask them to stand by in case we need them to help with the
coordination efforts.”

Taylor scratched his cheek. “Do Cree and
Sorn know about this?”

“Not yet,” Coulter replied. “I’ll be
briefing them as soon as transportation is arranged for Sorn. Unfortunately, he
can’t shapeshift to avian form as Cree can.”

“And you?” Fallon asked.

“I don’t need to shapeshift in order to
travel,” Coulter said. “I can teleport wherever I need to be.”

“Well, wooly bully for you,” Fallon grumbled.

“But in this case, I’ll fly with Sorn and
Cree and whoever else the goddess gives us,” the Gravelord stated.

“No women,” Taylor said. “No Extensions
this time.”

“No,” Coulter said. “It’s too dangerous for
them. I’d like to keep…” he glanced at Taylor then away, “them safe.”

“Yeah, I fucking bet you do,” Fallon said
with a grunt.

“All right,” the Supervisor said. “That’s
it for now. We’ll meet back here at 0600 tomorrow and start planning the
mission.”

Walking back to the lounge, Fallon was
uncharacteristically quiet. Taylor asked what was troubling him.

“He’s taking two Alphas to North Korea,”
Fallon said. “Doesn’t that concern you even a little?”

“It concerns me a lot,” Taylor said.

“So we need to have a long, protected chat
with Cree and Sorn.”

“In the Cone of Silence,” Taylor said with
a grin.

“Aye, exactly.”

“Girls too?”

“Might as well.”

* * * * *

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Laci
said. Her fingers were threaded with those of her life-mate’s. She looked up at
Taylor. “They can trust him, Tay.”

“Are you sure?” Keenan McCullough Fallon
queried.

“I am,” Laci said. “I would know, Kiki.
It’s not only my psi sensibilities involved. It’s also my woman’s intuition.”

“Well, I must admit I am not sensing
duplicity from him,” Keenan admitted.

“What about you, Bronnie?” Sorn asked. “You
met him. What are your feelings about him?”

“Other than the obvious,” Bronwyn said,
glancing at her husband. “I believe he can be trusted with Viraiden’s life.”

“The obvious?” Cree questioned.

“That he’s head over heels in love with
Taylor’s woman,” Fallon grumbled. “Isn’t that what you meant?”

“Ah, yeah,” Bronwyn admitted. She gave
Taylor an apologetic look.

“What do your hellions say?” Sorn inquired
of Bronwyn and Keenan.

“Mine doesn’t react around him,” Bronwyn
replied.

“Nor does mine,” Keenan said.

“So what does that tell you?” Sorn pressed.

Laci cocked a shoulder. “That he’s on the
up and up.”

“Then how come my hellion wants to smash
his fucking face in?” Fallon questioned.

“Fallon,” Cree said on a long sigh. “Is
there any other male whose face you don’t want to smash?”

“I can’t think of one,” Fallon admitted.

“My hellion is wary of him but it isn’t
screaming evil shit,” Sorn said. “Cree?”

“The old girl has been uncharacteristically
silent in regard to the Gravelord,” Cree answered. He looked at Taylor.

Taylor shrugged. “I don’t like him.” He
looked at Bronwyn. “For obvious reasons. But I’m not sensing he has nefarious
plots in mind. My hellion hasn’t spoken a word since he was returned to me but
I can feel him stirring. When he’s near Coulter, he stills as though listening
but I don’t think he’s concerned about the Gravelord.”

“He is dedicated to his country,” Laci
said. “I know that. He’ll do everything he can to prevent war and he will lay
his life on the line if necessary to protect Misha and Darkyn.”

“Okay, let’s say we can trust his motives
then,” Cree said. “If our women believe him trustworthy I think we can rely on
their instincts, and if none of our hellions are sending out warning signals
about him, then we’ll have to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Coulter was waiting outside the safe room
when Sorn opened the door. The Panthera gave him a surprised look but said
nothing, stepping aside for Bronwyn to exit the room. He waited until the
Reapers and their women were standing in the corridor with him before he pushed
away from the wall on which he’d been leaning.

“So, what’s the 411?” he asked.

“Is the plane ready?” Cree inquired.