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thought she knew the reason Bridget was asking. "Don't worry, Bridie. Just as the Hunter will provide identities for our warrior friends, they will provide new identities for us."

She thought of her own abduction in 1973 and realized with a pang, she would never be

able to go to her family, be welcomed home by them, and knew that was what was

bothering Bridget. She started to reassure her, but stopped when a hand was laid on her

shoulder. She looked up into the concerned face before her, nodded at the gentle look in

the eyes of the man standing there, then quietly walked away, closing the door to the

bedroom behind her.

Bridget's shoulders began to tremble, indicating she was crying. Even when the bed

dipped beside her, she did not respond. But when the arms encircled her, she leaned into

the warm body, so immersed in her own grief, she did not realize the rock-solid body and

encompassing strong arms did not belong to Dr. Dean.

"How can I live without him?" she sobbed against a shoulder that went suddenly rigid, then relaxed at her next words. "How can I ever live without Cree?"

A gentle hand came up to stroke her hair and for the first time she took in the smell of

the crisp, cotton fabric beneath her cheek; the fabric smelled vividly of ozone, bringing

back memories of fluttering percale sheets left drying on a clothesline. The memory

brought a heartfelt moan, then heartbreaking sobs.

"Shush," came the low, throaty command as the arms tightened protectively around

her. "Shush."

"Kamerone," Bridget cried, her entire being aching.

"I am here."

Bridget stilled, her last sob catching in her throat as she jerked her head up, not daring

to believe her own ears. When she saw him there before her, his crooked smile and amber

eyes welcoming, she thought she would pass out from the sheer joy of seeing him.

"Cree?" she questioned, her hands pushing them apart so she could reach up to cup his face.

"Kam," he corrected.

"How?" she asked, her whole body beginning to throb.

"That is not important for now," he answered. "What is important is that we are together and will remain together for as long as you will have me." His eyes softened and he bent forward to plant a light kiss on her brow. When he straightened, he locked his

gaze with hers. "Will you have me, Beloved?"

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will!"

He eased her back just enough to fasten his lips to hers to seal their bargain. He knew

there would be many obstacles to overcome in the years ahead of them. His cycles of

transition would make it necessary to stay near one of the medical technicians who would

get a job at a blood center in order to provide him with the substance necessary to

maintain his life. Dorrie had already volunteered for the assignment, surprising him.

"I love you," Bridget said, as he released her mouth.

"I love you," he answered.

Bridget snuggled against him, wondering when she should tell him about the life he

had planted within her that day on Rysalia Prime.

"There is time," she said and she felt his nod.

"Aye," he replied. "There is time."

Afterward

THERE ARE two things you should know about me:

(1) I have a great affinity with the Wind as you can tell from the titles of the novels I

write and;

(2) I am a very visual person.

The sweeping grandeur of a pink lemonade sunset will stop me in my tracks. The

sunburst leaves of a red maple in the Fall will take away my breath. And a brown-eyed,

handsome man dressed entirely in black will make my heart skip a beat every time.

It was from one intriguing moment in cinema history that the Reaper Kamerone Cree

was born. That experience was a truly visual one that leapt right off the screen, took on a

sentience of its own, grabbed me by the throat, and shook me to the tips of my curling

toes. Although the farthest thing from my mind at that moment in time in the late

seventies was the creation of a novel, what I saw on the screen before me did to me what

lemonade sunsets and fiery red-gold leaves had always done: caught and held me with

rapt attention.

The life-changing image I saw emblazoned on the movie screen in the little town of

Rantoul, Illinois that evening as I sat watching with my young sons, was the introduction

of the Darth Vader character in Star Wars. Here was intense evil, striding arrogantly,

purposefully, and with menace toward the camera. The music swelled, the cape fluttered

out behind him, and the tattoo of his booted heels on the space station floor was riveting.

Flanking this black-clad apparition was a cadre of Stormtroopers, his personal guard, and

in that one, awe-inspiring moment, Kamerone Cree came into being.

In my mind, the scene where the Reaper confronts Bridget and her lover is so

powerful, so full of imagery, it takes away my breath and makes me squirm in my seat.

Here is the true essence of the anti-hero of BloodWind: a being intent on having what he

wants, when he wants it, never realizing that it will ultimately destroy him.

I hope you enjoyed Cree as much as I enjoyed bringing him to life. I also hope you will

want to spend time with him again in DarkWind and be introduced to his Reaper son,

Khiershon.

May the Wind be always at your back,

Charlee

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

CHARLOTTÈCHARLEE' Boyett-Compo is the author of over 30 award-winning

speculative fiction novels. Married for 36 years to her high school sweetheart, Tom, she is

the mother of two grown sons and the grandmother of two. She is owned and operated by

six demanding felines for whom she must have a day job in order to buy catnip and cat

litter. Her hobbies include reading, writing, and staying as far away from arithmetic as

space will allow.

This story copyright 2001 by Charlotte Boyett-Compo. Published by Hard Shell Word

Factory.

8946 Loberg Rd.

Amherst Junction, WI 54407

http://www.hardshell.com

Electronic book created by Seattle Book Company.

Cover art copyright 2002 Dirk A. Wolf

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and

have no relation whatever to anyone bearing the same name or names. These characters

are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all
incidents are pure invention.


PART I


Chapter 1


Chapter 2


Chapter 3


Chapter 4


Chapter 5


Chapter 6


Chapter 7


Chapter 8


Chapter 9


Chapter 10


Chapter 11

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
Chapter 12


Chapter 13


Chapter 14


Part II


Chapter 15


Chapter 16


Chapter 17


Chapter 18


Chapter 19


Chapter 20


Chapter 21


Chapter 22


Chapter 23


Chapter 24


Chapter 25


Chapter 26


Chapter 27


Epilogue


Afterward

o Charlotte Boyett-Compo

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