My Reaper's Daughter (25 page)

the most power. That society of
houngans
practiced their religion for personal gain and to

annihilate their enemies.”

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My Reaper’s Daughter

Kasid heaved a long sigh as he finished relating Lord Dunham’s words to Glyn and

Phelan. “I believe we have found the why of the evil you found in the bone yard if not

the who.”

“Ask among the people of color,”
Lord Dunham suggested
. “They most likely will not tell

you anything for the society is greatly feared but one just might step forward if he or she has lost

a loved one to the sacrificial altar.”

“How do we destroy these things, Your Grace?” Glyn asked.

“The only way to make sure it does not survive is to cut off its head and then incinerate the

body,”
Lord Dunham instructed.

“We may be dealing with something beyond that which your Prime and his men went up

against in Oklaks,”
Lord Kheelan injected
. “But this is just as important—if not more so—to

put a stop to as the threat of the Ceannus. See to it!”

With that, the Shadowlords were gone.

“And be quick about it,” Glyn grumbled. He tossed the rest of the coffee in his cup

over the porch rail then set the cup aside. Getting to his feet, he walked to the edge of

the overhang and reached up to hook his hands around the beam that ran the length of

the porch. He stared out into the rain. “They don’t ask much of us, do they?”

“I believe they are beginning to feel the weight of not having the goddess’s

guidance,” Kasid said.

“So what do you suggest, Kiel? You’re the boss of this mission,” Glyn stated.

“Well, first things first, I guess. We should do as His Grace ordered and interview

the people of color on the plantations. I need to head up to Burnt Pine Plantation and

have a talk with the owner Fred Tolliver. He’s had the most people come up missing.”

He turned to Kasid. “The next plantation over is Fox Hill. It belongs to the Copley

family. If you’ll go over there, Glyn can ride back to Sagewood.” Kiel winked. “That is if

he doesn’t mind returning to that pretty little mystery he has over there.”

“Fuck you, Kiel,” Glyn said sweetly.

“You keep offering but you never do anything about it, Kullen. Why is that?”

Phelan queried. When Glyn twisted his head around and gave his interrogator a

narrowed look, Kiel grinned. “Think I’m more man than you can handle, maybe?”

With a snort, Glyn dropped his hands and stomped back into the house, slamming

the screen door behind him.

“Why do you do that?” Kasid inquired.

“Because it pisses him off,” Phelan said with a chuckle.

“No, I mean pretend to be something you are not.”

Phelan was sitting with his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the

ankle. He laid his head on the back of the rocking chair then swiveled his face toward

Jaborn. “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

“Aren’t you?” Kasid challenged, holding the other Reaper’s steady gaze.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Phelan smiled. “Jaborn, I have known many women in my day but I’ve also had

relationships with a few men. I enjoyed them both.” He uncrossed his legs, drew them

up and pushed to his feet. He looked down at Kasid. “What I am, how I take my

pleasures is my business and mine alone. It’s no one else’s concern.”

Kasid said nothing as his teammate opened the door and went inside.

“Lord Kasid?”

“Aye, Your Grace?” Kasid answered Lord Naois’ call.

“We thought you men would like to know Lady Rachel has given birth to her sons. All are

hail and hardy.”

Kasid closed his eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanksgiving to Alel. “And Lord

Owen?” he asked.

“Was released in time to attend the births,”
Lord Naois replied.
“Also, the goddess arrived

at the Citadel just before Lord Owen’s release.”

“Glyn will be relieved to know Tohre is out of confinement.”

“We thought he would be.”

Kasid hurried into the house to tell Glyn the news only to find both he and Phelan

had already left. Through the front window, he saw them riding out. Since he had no

way to contact them mentally, he shrugged and reached for his slicker, grimacing as he

draped the heavy garment over his shoulders.

He was beginning to hate the rain.

* * * * *

The Citadel

Owen Tohre looked down at his baby son and could barely see the beautiful infant

for the tears that were clouding his vision. He had never felt so humbled in his life. He

was trembling all over, feeling weaker than the child nestled in his arms. His heart was

bursting with pride and when the little one opened his eyes to look up at his father, the

Reaper groaned from the vast amount of emotion tumbling through his being.

“Hey there, little guy,” Owen whispered. “I’m your papa.”

Though Aingeal Cree had warned him how devastating it was to have a child smile

for the first time, Owen was not prepared for the intensity of the sensation that rocked

through him like dynamite when the baby’s perfect bow lips pulled back.

“Ah, Merciful Alel,” the Reaper whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s smiling.”

“It’s just gas,” Lord Kheelan insisted.

“Why don’t you go do something useful like lie down on the tracks and let the train

run over you,” Aingeal snapped, pushing the Shadowlord aside. “Who invited you here

anyway?”

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My Reaper’s Daughter

Glancing at his wife who lay on the bed with their other son cradled against her,

Owen tried not to laugh. If he hadn’t been so tired, feeling so drained from his recent

eight months of sheer hell, he would have whooped with hilarity.

“I second that,” Danielle Gehdrin said, giving Lord Kheelan her own peevish

glance. “If you can’t say something helpful, don’t speak at all.”

“That would be a first,” Lea Walsh, consort and mate of Lord Bevyn Coure,

mumbled.

Besides Lady Aingeal, Lady Lea and Lady Danni, the room was filled to

overflowing with people—mother and father and twins, the three Shadowlords, the

Amazeen Penthe Aracnea, Sir Giles D’Brickashaw, who was the Primary Guide at the

Citadel, Healer Desden, who had delivered the twins, and Harold Washington, the

prim and bossy steward assigned to Lady Aingeal and her husband Lord Cynyr. The

three Gatekeepers had come and gone already after giving their congratulations and

blessings to the Tohres.

And sitting where no one could see her, the Triune Goddess Morrigunia looked on

with ill-disguised contempt, the man at her side as mute and invisible as was She.

“Were I so inclined, I could snatch the breaths from those mewling little turds and

squash them like the worms they are,” Morrigunia snapped, Her words heard only by

the weak, despondent and thoroughly chastened man at her side. She looked down at

him. “If it would not cripple your brother, I would.”

Eanan Tohre—Owen’s twin—stayed silent for he was too ill to do otherwise. He

had just been rudely snatched from the cell where he spent eight months of ungodly

torment and thrust into a world he did not know nor understand. As he stood slumped

beside the goddess, all he could do was stare morosely at his twin. He needed more

Sustenance and a stronger dose of tenerse, but the bitch hovering next to him was

withholding it for the time being.

“I’ve yet to decide what I want to do with you, my Reaper,” Morrigunia had told

him when she’d replaced him in the cell with a sleeping Owen. “Perhaps I’ll keep you

here on Terra for a while.”

Though he wanted to go back to his own world, he knew the goddess would not

accommodate him. Not that he had anything there to go back to and the hellish

existence he’d been living on the last worn-torn world where she’d dropped him wasn’t

a place he cared to revisit.

“For the love of Alel, say something, you moron!” the Triune Goddess commanded

him.

“What would you have me say,
Mo Regina
?” he asked tiredly. He watched his twin

lowering his head to kiss the precious bundle he carried and felt a moment of

unadulterated, unforgivable guilt.

“Had you not killed Owen, he would not be here today,” Morrigunia stated, and

snaked out a hand to cup Eanan’s chin. Roughly she jerked his head so he was looking

at Her. “He is better off for what you did whether you can accept that or not.”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I killed him because I wanted his woman,” Eanan said. “What does that say of

me?”

“That you were a love-sick fool,” the goddess hissed.

“And because I wanted his woman, because I thought to take his place with her

none the wiser, she killed herself,” Eanan reminded Her. “I have two deaths on my

conscience, milady.”

“Believe me, you have more than paid for what you did, don’t you think?”

He stared into Her angry green eyes and felt again every terrifying moment of the

months-long Transition that had turned him from man to beast and kept him there in

the throes of a hunger, thirst and need so great, he had prayed for his life to end.

“Aye,
Mo Regina
, I paid for it, but I imagine Owen’s sentence was far worse than

mine,” he answered unwisely.

Her fingers tightened brutally, painfully on his chin until the long nails drew blood.

She lowered Her face to his and bared Her fangs. “Careful, little man,” She growled.

“Unless you want to exchanges places with him for a few long, long nights. Is that what

you want?”

Eanan shuddered. The image of lying beneath the goddess as She impaled Herself

upon him sapped his energy, raping him was enough to lower his eyes to the threat She

posed.

“I thought not,” She said then turned Her attention to the one man in all the

megaverse who held Her love. The stormy green eyes turned soft as She gazed on

Owen Tohre. “He is proud of those mewling little worms, isn’t he?”

Eanan almost smiled. “Aye, he is. I am happy for him.”

Morrigunia waved Her hand and disappeared, taking Eanan Tohre with her.

Owen felt the ripple of air around him and knew who had been watching. He

would always know when She was near him. He was connected to Her now in ways

that would bind him to Her forever. He had always been Hers to command. Now he

would be at Her beck and call no matter the hour or the day. When She called, when

She came for him, he would have no choice but to obey. It had been his bargain with

Her—one that had saved Rachel’s life but effectively ended his freedom.

The moment he had awakened in the con cell—Transitioned to his wolf-like state—

he knew his reprieve had come. He had begun to think it never would—that he would

spend eternity servicing the sexual needs of a goddess whose insatiable demands had

all but destroyed him during the eight months he’d been her captive on whatever world

She’d flown him. Day and night, night and day She had Her hands on him, Her body

plastered to his. Her taste was in his mouth, the feel of Her cunt even at that very

moment wrapped around his cock.

“What are you going to name them?” Harold asked.

Rachel held out her hand to her husband and Owen reached to take it. “Have you

decided, my Owen?” she asked.

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My Reaper’s Daughter

Owen squared his shoulders. “Thielan and Sheelan,” he announced. “The names

mean home and peace in the old language.”

“Wise choices, milord,” Giles D’Brickashaw said. “What greater things for a man to

have than a home and peace.”

Rachel smiled her acceptance of her husband’s decision and turned her gaze to the

boy child whose little face was rubbing against her breast. “I believe Sheelan is

hungry,” she said softly.

That was the cue for everyone save her husband to leave and the others did so with

many words of congratulations and offers to help. Even Lord Kheelan coughed

discreetly and asked to be called should the need arise. The High Lord came to stand

beside Owen and surprised everyone by putting a hand on the Reaper’s shoulder.

“Welcome home, Lord Owen. You were missed,” Lord Kheelan said then spun

around and marched to the door.

“Are you growing a heart, Kheelan?” Aingeal asked as she followed him from the

room.

“Get bent, Cree,” the High Lord snapped, refusing to look her way.

“You are!” Aingeal stated with a chuckle. She ran to catch up with him, punching

the stately sorcerer on the arm. “There may be hope for you yet, Khee!”

Owen watched his lady uncover her breast and offer the nipple to their son. His

face was already wet with tears and fresh ones sprang to life as Sheelan greedily took

the offering and began to draw strongly on Rachel’s flesh.

“I still can’t believe this,” he said, jiggling Thielan who had suddenly realized he

was missing out on the action and began whining.

“We’re going to have to have a wet nurse,” Rachel told him. “I don’t think I’ll have

enough milk for both of them.”

He nodded, unable to speak for the lump in his throat was all but choking him.

Rachel had not seen her husband in many months—had not been with him that

long before he’d been taken from her—but she knew him as well as she knew the back