My Reaper's Daughter (24 page)

“Have you Transitioned out of cycle?” Glyn queried.

“Twice,” Phelan replied. “You?” At Glyn’s nod, he turned to Kasid, who shook his

head.

“No, but some of the others have.”

Kiel ran a hand through his hair. “What the hell is happening here? Has it got

something to do with the murders and disappearances?”

“Lord Kheelan believes so. We’ll talk about it later,” Glyn answered, cutting a

meaningful glance toward Mystery and her daughter. “We have help coming our way

from the same source that took out the threat up in the Northlands.”

Phelan silently whistled. “That should prove to be fun. You bunking at the hotel in

town? I’ve got room so we’ll go by and get your things then head out there. We can

discuss what I’ve found out so far and I can tell you about the bone yard.”

“You two go on ahead. I’ll meet you at the hotel,” Glyn said. “I have some

unfinished business here.”

Phelan’s left eyebrow quirked but he made no comment to that statement. He bid

Kasid put on his slicker then replaced his hat, tipped it to Mystery and Valda before

turning to the door. “See you in town, Kullen,” he remarked, holding the door open as

Kasid joined him.

Mystery was quiet as Glyn walked over to the bed and stood there with a hand on

the iron footboard. His presence in the small confines of the cabin was overpowering

and the raw animal magnetism pouring from him in dizzying waves evaporated every

droplet of moisture from her mouth.

“I wanted to explain why I left the stage station so abruptly,” he began, and she saw

his fingers tighten on the iron rail, the knuckles turning white from the exertion of

pressure he was applying.

“There’s no need,” she said softly. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Yes he does, Mama,” Valda insisted. She folded her arms over her chest and tilted

her head to one side. “And make it good, Glynnie.”

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“Valda!” Mystery groaned, feeling the blush heating her cheeks but the Reaper

laughed and dropped down to a squat in front of them.

“Aye, milady,” he agreed. “I’ll do my best.”

“You really don’t—”

“I was scared, Myst,” he said, interrupting her. “I really didn’t think myself worthy

of you or Valda but, the goddess knows, I wanted you two like I’ve never wanted

anything else in my life.” He shot his free hand through his thick curls. “I wasn’t

looking for a mate, but when I met you, I realized just how lonely my life had been. I

began to miss you two less than a mile down the road.” He took a deep breath. “I need

you in my life. I
want
you in my life. I am asking you to be in my life.”

“And now we get Joined, right?” Valda asked with all the impatience of youth.

Mystery was so embarrassed by her daughter’s words she couldn’t make a sound.

She covered her face with her hands—unable to look at Glyn’s face—but his words

shocked her so badly, her head snapped up and her eyes grew round.

“Aye, Lady Valda,” Glyn said. “Now we get Joined.”

“Me and you and Mama, right?” the child wanted clarified.

“Aye, milady. You and me and your mama,” he answered, and there was a slight

catch in his throat as he spoke.

Mystery was staring openmouthed at him and when he took her hand in his, she

could feel his shaking as badly as her own.

“Mystery Butler, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked, his

gaze searching hers.

“Are you sure?” she asked as tears invaded her vision.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think on it and I’m gods-be-damned sure,” he said then

winched when Valda shot out a little finger and pointed it at him.

“You’re gonna get your mouth washed out, Glynnie!” the child warned.

“Forgive me, sweeting,” he said.

“Milord,” Mystery said, her fingers tightening on his. “Isn’t this too soon? Aren’t

we rushing things? I mean we only knew one another a day before we… I mean when

we…” She put her free hand up to swipe at a tear rolling down her cheek. “We don’t

know…”

“Do you want to be with me?” he asked, and when she nodded, he asked if she

believed he would make her a good husband.

“Aye, I do,” she said. She placed her palm on his cheek.

“Do you believe I’ll do my best to be a good father to your child?”

She caressed him, capable only of nodding.

“Do you believe I will provide for you and care for you and share all that I have

with you?”

Mystery bit her bottom lip. “Aye, milord.”

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My Reaper’s Daughter

“Then there is no problem as I see it,” he said. He released her hand and got to his

feet, leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, the nose, then finally placed a fleeting

kiss on her lips to seal the bargain.

“Oh, that’s just nasty,” Valda proclaimed, fanning her hand in front of her face as

though to wipe away the sight.

The two adults laughed and Glyn stepped back, reluctant to go, but duty called. He

could almost feel the weight of the Shadowlords’ disapproval weighing him down for

daring to bind himself to a mate without their express approval but it didn’t matter. He

had no way to contact them and he was fairly sure he wouldn’t have asked their

permission if he’d been able. He knew he’d pay for his insubordination, but that didn’t

concern him overly much. All that was important was that Mystery had agreed to be

his.

“What’s your answer, milady?” he asked.

Mystery’s lips trembled. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes a thousand times.”

Glyn pumped his fist into the air. “All right!”

“I think he’s happy, Mama.”

“When we’ve completed our mission here, you and I will say the words before a

priest,” he suggested. “Until then…” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a

handful of folded bills. He handed the money to Mystery. “Get yourself a better place to

live.” His eyes turned molten gold. “One with two bedrooms.”

Mystery’s womb clenched and she felt her knees go weak—a condition that seemed

to perpetuate itself whenever she was near this man. All she could do was nod at his

order. Images of the two of them lying naked in that bedroom brought heat and

moisture to her most private of places.

“And get a pretty dress or two for you and our daughter for the Joining,” he stated.

“Our daughter,” Mystery repeated, and her heart melted completely.

“Can I call you Daddy Glyn, now?” Valda asked.

“May I,” her mother corrected.

“Aye,” Glyn said, his voice breaking. He plucked his slicker from the chair where

Mystery had laid it and swung it around his shoulders before he finish his words. “Aye,

Valli, you surely may.”

He hesitated a moment—the look on his face making it obvious he wanted to grab

Mystery and kiss her senseless—but he couldn’t. Not yet. He turned away but not

before she realized his hands were shaking.

Mystery got up from the bed—too excited to do more than stand there and tremble

as the man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life with moved to the door.

Her eyes drank him in like an intoxicating wine as he paused there with his heart open

for her to see.

“Take care, milady,” he said.

“And you, milord,” she whispered in reply.

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“Feel better,
babban
,” he told Valda.

And with that he was gone, the sound of his boot heels thumping over the sodden

wood planks of the porch as the low roll of thunder shook the small cabin.

“See, I told you he’d come for us, Mama,” Valda said.

Mystery turned to her child and hugged her, so happy she wanted to shout, so

proud she wanted to tell the world. She swung Valda from the bed and whirled around

with her, the two of them giggling wildly.

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My Reaper’s Daughter

Chapter Eleven

“The bones had teeth marks on them,” Phelan said as he and his fellow Reapers sat

on the back porch and watched the rain falling. “Not fang marks but teeth marks. The

marrow had been sucked out and there wasn’t one scrap of flesh left to be found in the

mass grave.”

“How many victims?” Glyn asked as he took a sip of the piping-hot coffee in his

cup.

“Between sixty and seventy.”

“Mother of the goddess,” Kasid said with a whistle. “How long have these

disappearances been going on?”

“Years it seems,” Phelan answered.

“Then this isn’t just something that’s been started since the Ceannus left,” Glyn

observed. “Maybe we’re dealing with two different issues.”

“Since I can’t do it, I need you to contact Lord Dunham and ask him what he knows

about an entity called a zombie,” Phelan told Kasid.

“Zombie?” Kasid repeated. “What is that?”

“Well, depending on who you ask, it’s either a person who has had his or her soul

removed and is used to wreak havoc on a sorcerer’s enemies or it’s a person under the

influence of a very strong hypnotic drug. Those affected by the drug apparently have

no will of their own and will do whatever they’re told, working from sunup to

sundown until they drop.”

“The purpose for that being what?” Glyn inquired.

“Providing complete slave labor for a planter. We’re talking about workers who

don’t stop to rest and who won’t balk at an order.”

“Men who will walk right past you and not even see you,” Kasid repeated what the

hotel man had told them.

“According to one of the planters I talked to over in Eastover, the ones controlled

by a sorcerer are flesh-eaters with a particular penchant for internal organs.”

“Delightful,” Glyn commented.

“Good news though,” Phelan added, “is those who aren’t under the influence of a

magic-sayer and are just controlled by the drug are harmless.”

“I’m assuming those kinds of zombies are daywalkers but the other kind are

nightwalkers?” Kasid asked.

“Not necessarily. Those who come up out of the grave can walk the day at the

bokor’s command.”

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“Maybe we’re dealing with three different issues here then,” Glyn said.

“Daywalkers, grave-jumpers and the new super rogues.”

“Not to mention the ’bots,” Kasid reminded him.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” Phelan said with a snort. He looked to

Kasid. “See if you can get hold of Lord Dunham.”

Kasid cleared his throat then sent the mental call. It was answered immediately.

“Aye, Lord Kasid?”

“What can you tell us of zombies, Your Grace?” Kasid said aloud so the other two

Reapers would be involved in the conversation. When there was a long moment of

silence, he spoke the Shadowlord’s name again.

“I heard you,”
came the irritable reply.
”Just hold on.”

It seemed to take forever and when Lord Dunham spoke again, the other two men

could tell whatever he was saying to Kasid was making the Reaper very uneasy for he

kept shifting in his chair, squirming like a schoolboy.

“We are speaking of entities from long before the Burning War,”
Lord Dunham told

Kasid.
“It was believed the sect that created them was wiped out but apparently it is thriving

there in Vircars. Here is what we know…

“There was in the island countries to the south a secret society of priests called the Bizango.

These men were called
houngan
and they were greatly feared by the populace. Their magic was

very powerful. One of their rituals was called zombification. During the ritual, a victim was

chosen and given a powder distilled from the poison of a blowfish. The powder would render the

victim unconscious, plunging him into a deathlike trance. While under the influence of this

drug, the
houngan
would make the victim believe he was truly dead. To do this, they would

bury him in a coffin for a few hours and they would bring him back to life. To control the victim

who is now reportedly soulless and unable to think for himself, the priests would give him a

variety of mind-controlling drugs to which he would become highly addicted. Without the drugs

and continual control of the priest, the zombie would not be able to function and would

ultimately waste away and die. The ritual was supposedly used for various reasons and

depending upon which
houngan
applied it, it was either a punishment for those who defied the

Bizango or for the personal intention of the priest. The victims were never randomly chosen nor

were they used for personal vendettas. They were used to maintain control and order within the

society.

“However, there was another darker society whose rituals were far more evil. If that society

had a name, it has long since been lost in the annals of time but we strongly suspect it was

directly related in some way to Raphian or one of his minions such as Apollyon or Abaddon. This

society had what were called
egregors
or conglomerates composed of dark-matter entities that

demanded human and animal sacrifice, the offerings of flesh and blood. The entities were called

Zandor
. Their priests would offer up slave masters, innocents such as newborns, women of

childbearing age and men in the prime of their sexual lives. It was believed such sacrifices held