Wind Demon Triology: Book II: Evil Wind (32 page)

"Aye, I believe so."

Cree groaned as the drug was injected into his neck and his hand tightened around Dorrie's.

"It's okay, baby,” Dorrie said. “She's only trying to help."

The Reaper's hand relaxed and went limp in Dorrie's.

"So much pain,” Dorrie said, stroking his forehead. “It seems that's all he's ever known."

"The other Reapers are in the next room, Cait,” Lisa said. “A couple are pretty bad off."

"Well, let's go take a look,” Caitlin said.

Khiershon passed his wife in the hallway, gave her a quick kiss, then came into Cree's room to visit his bloodsire. He had commented earlier to his lady how much they resembled one another. He made the same remark to Dorrie.

"I never thought to meet him,” Khiershon said.

"Nor he you,” Dorrie said.

"He is a legend, you know,” the younger Reaper commented.

"In more ways than you will ever know,” she said.

"If I can be but half the man he is...” Khiershon said then shook his head. “They are all chomping at the bit to see him."

"I don't think he needs to see them until they are fully healed,” Dorrie cautioned. “Hopefully he isn't dreaming, but if he is, he's seeing them being flash-fried on that platform and that may be why his blood pressure is so damned high."

"Would it help if I talked to him, do you think?” Khiershon asked. “I mean...” He flung out a hand. “I have some knowledge of what he has been through."

"I'm sure you do,” Dorrie said and released Kamerone's hand. She got up. “Come over here and sit down. I'll see if I can't lend Caitlin a hand with the other men."

After Dorrie had exited his bloodsire's room, Khiershon perched uneasily on the edge of the chair she'd vacated and stared at the strong hand that lay beside his bloodsire's leg. A part of him ached to touch the man whose sperm had given him life and another part feared doing so. Though he'd not experienced any resentment or jealousy toward the bloodkin he'd met in the transporter room, he knew he should be feeling antagonistic, aggressive, and hostile toward a fellow Reaper. But he felt none of that. Only a dull ache in the region of his heart.

"I am Khiershon,” he said softly. “Your blood.... “He swallowed. “Your son."

Reluctantly, hesitantly he reached for his father's hand and as soon as his flesh touched that of the unconscious man, a great wealth of emotion surged up to choke Khiershon Cree. He felt tears prickling at his eyes.

This man was responsible for one-half of the equation of Khiershon's life and for the entire range of his Reaper makeup. He was a legend, a hero, a man so far above all others that his bloodkin had placed him upon a pedestal. He was—to Khiershon and the other Reapers—a god and he was his sire.

"I'm here ... Father,” he said. “I'm here and four other of your sons are here as well as six of your nephews. We're all alive and we're all well—or will be soon—and we're all very worried about you."

Gently he stroked his father's hand, unaware of the moisture gathering in his gaze.

"My wife is here, too,” he said. “Your daughter-in-law Caitlin is the Healer taking care of you.” He slid the palm of his left hand under Kamerone's and placed his right hand over his father's. “All your friends are safe and sound and we are on our way to Serenia."

Khiershon was not expecting his father to open his eyes and when Kamerone did, the younger Reaper's breath caught in his throat. He found himself staring into amber eyes dulled with pain and glazed with drugs and worried beyond belief.

"Dorrie?” Cree grated, his voice rife with agony.

"She's safe,” Khiershon assured him. “As is your daughter, Danielle. We are all safe and not an enemy ship in sight."

"They were hurt.” The words were said with such sadness, such guilt, that it sent a wedge of emotion through Khiershon's heart.

Khiershon nodded. “Aye, but I don't think it was intentional on the part of the woman named Kym,” he said. “It was the combination of the staffs igniting and the pulse from the transporter beams occurring at the same moment. Your Reapers survived. They'll be all right. Their parasites will heal those who were hurt."

"The revenants?"

"The room was destroyed completely before the
Alluvia
left the docking station. The parasites are gone. There will be no more Reapers made on Rysalia Prime."

Cree heaved a long sigh of relief then slowly closed his eyes. His hand tensed beneath his son's for a moment before he gave in to the strong drug pulling him down into oblivion.

Khiershon reached up to stroke his father's forehead. “Sleep well,” he said. “We are here watching over you."

By the time the
Pantera
fell in behind the
DarkWind
, the
Alluvia
, Raphaella's StarRaider, and Prince Kamau Taborn's ship, the
Juggernaut
, the last of the injured Reapers was healing well enough to be up and about and hovering outside their bloodkin's room.

"Don't wake him up,” Khiershon warned them, “or you'll have me to deal with."

"Who fried and made you boss, Cree?” Taegin challenged but it was more out of habit than any real ill feeling toward the eldest bloodson. He stuck his hands into the pockets of the black leather uniform pants he and his fellow Reapers had not been allowed to wear for many months and hunched his shoulders. It felt good to be clothed properly.

They each wanted to see the infamous Prime Reaper for himself, to lay a respectful hand to his, and to silently thank him for all he had endured for their sake. Not a one of them—not even Taegin Kullen—questioned why he harbored no enmity toward the Prime and they came away feeling strange emotions they could not understand.

"So you are all set, eh, Admiral?"

"They've got enough Triso over on the
Alluvia
to last several lifetimes,” Tylan Kahn said as he spoke to Captain Vargas.

"Brilliant minds think alike,” the Diabolusian woman quipped.

"You going after your cargo of it was greatly appreciated, Captain, and will keep them stocked for some time on Terra."

"Elena,” she said to him and on the vid-com screen her smile was sultry. “I only wanted to help, Tylan."

"I'm sorry you had to go to all that trouble, though,” Tylan said. He smiled sexily at her.

"It was no trouble at all,” she replied, “but if you would like to thank me in person, you may do so when we reach Corinth."

Lares sighed heavily. “Tell that woman to take a cold shower, Kahn. I've problems of my own I need help with."

Captain Vargas shot the Necroman another haughty look. “You are becoming a pest, dark man!” she snapped and then was gone in a flash.

Tylan settled back in the command chair while Iyan McGregor was taking a much needed break. “So what are you going to do about your problem, Lares?” he inquired.

"She will challenge me,” Lares said. “I have broken the code of honor and that is her right."

"Why don't you just explain you never expected to see her again and...?"

"Oh, fuck that!” Lares snapped. “She won't care of such things! I was expected to remain true to her no matter what. As long as the
zawadi
was around my neck, I.... “He stopped, blinked, and then turned wide eyes to Tylan. “The
zawadi
!"

"What the hell is a
zawadi
?” Tylan asked.

"The reed and bead necklace,” Lares said. “The necklace she gave me as a betrothal gift. I, too, gave her such as a token of our troth."

"So?"

"The reed, ass wipe!” Lares sneered at Tylan, enjoying the look of anger on the Rysalian's handsome face at the insult. “I broke the necklace to pull a reed from it to place in Cree's airway when he was suffocating! Do you not remember?"

"Vaguely and who the hell are you calling an ass wipe?” Tylan challenged with narrowed eyes.

"I broke the
zawadi
and thus the troth was broken! Do you not see?” Lares began pacing. “It was for a better good than a man taking a wife to mate. It was to save the life of a valued warrior who had saved my life, as well. It is a
mutea konuil.
It is a debt of honor far more powerful than a mere Joining!"

"Aye, well, you'd better retract that part about the ass wipe,” Tylan said.

Lares slapped Tylan on the back, nearly knocking the former Rysalian Fleet commander from the command chair. “I have the way of it now!” He looked at Dakim Hesar. “Open a channel to the Amazeen ship and let me speak with the Princess Zainabu."

Tylan folded his arms over his chest and watched as the black man puffed himself up, slapped his hands to his hips, threw his head back, and spread his legs in an authoritative stance. But as soon as the imposing face of the Necromanian princess flashed on the vid-com screen, he saw Lares Taborn flinch.

"Greetings, J'Bai!” the princess spoke first. “You are well?"

"I am, Zainabu and...” Lares began but her words cut him off.

"That is good to know,” she said and reached up to tug at the
zawadi
that hung around her neck. She snatched it up and held it out in a tightly closed fist. “I have broken the troth,” she proclaimed.

Lares’ mouth dropped open. “What do you do, wench?"

"I have broken our betrothal,” she said. “There is another to whom I have given my heart."

Tylan heard Lares growl. “Who is this man who dares defy the laws of the J'Baina?” Taborn demanded.

"Kamau of the house of Taborn,” Zainabu stated. “He who follows at my back to assure my safety!"

"Your safety?” Lares hissed. “Your ego is out of line. He follows to keep watch over the Prime, wench!"

Zainabu lifted her chin. “That is true. I can not argue with it, but he goes where I go. We have deep affection for one another. I would have journeyed to Terra to break the troth but that is no longer necessary. The deed is done, Lares. Live with it!"

That said the haughty face of the princess disappeared from the screen.

"Kamau?” Lares shouted. “Kamau? That pimply-faced turd who was afraid of his own first pubic hair?” He glared around the bridge at the men and women staring at him. “She throws me aside for a spike like Kamau?"

"You do have a wife at home waiting for you, Lares,” Paegan Thorne reminded the dark man.

"That is beside the point!” Lares thundered. He lifted a balled fist and struck his massive chest a brutal blow. “No man takes my J'Bai from me and lives to tell the tale!"

"What are you going to do?” Tylan sneered. “Kill him and then be forced to take that virago home to live with you and Beryla?"

Lares’ eyebrows shot up and he staggered beneath such a thought. “By the gods, no!"

"Then leave matters as they are and shut the fuck up. You're giving me a headache,” Tylan grumbled.

Sputtering, Lares stomped around the bridge for a few moments then threw himself into one of the Nav Com seats. “This is not the way it was meant to be,” he fumed. “I was going to tell her I had broken the
zawadi
and that was all there would be to it."

"'The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen as is the razor's edge invisible',” Troi said on a long sigh.

"'She throws aside the scepter-leaves the helm',” Raven injected

"Aye,” Lares said, “and I'll wager my long scepter is bigger and thicker than his puny round helm!” He shot up from the chair and stalked off, head high.

"Men,” Helen Bryan, co-Com Off of the
DarkWind
told Marti Holloway, the co-engineer, with a shake of her head. “You can't live with them and you can't live without them."

"Aye,” Marti said, “and you can't leave them by the curb when you're finished with them."

On board the Necromanian dreadnaught, Prince Kamau Taborn sat back in his command chair and swiveled away from the vid-con screen. He was not so sure he truly wanted Zainabu for his mate, but he had begun courting her when they'd thought her J'Bai had died.

He frowned. “She is bossy,” he said aloud to no one in particular though his second in command glanced over at him. “She is opinionated, and she is arrogance personified."

"And she is a warrioress of the first degree,” the 2-I-C reminded his captain.

"True and I suppose a man could do worse than Zainabu Waberi,” Kamau agreed.

His second in command sidled over to him and leaned closer. “And then there is the factor of Demissie Waberi. To have the arms dealer indebted to you for taking his sister off his hands...."

Kamau waved a dismissive hand. “Demissie has no great affection for Zainabu. What does he care with whom the woman Joins?"

"As eldest brother, he would be required to make the dowry since their father is deceased,” the 2-I-C said slyly. “To know it would be unnecessary since she will Join with a member of the royal household...."

Kamau nodded. “I see your point but still, the woman is bossy."

"But worthy of a warrior such as yourself."

"Aye, she could hold her own if I do not cripple her first,” the Necromanian prince commented. He tapped a long dark finger on the chair arm. After a long inner discussion with himself, he looked up at his second in command. “Ask the princess if she would make herself available for an intimate dialogue between us when we arrive on Corinth."

Corydon Cree had finally found the time and the opportunity to approach the Amazeen Major. His shoulder had healed quickly but it was still a bit stiff as he walked up beside Kahmal and he was holding that arm with his other hand.

Stiffening as the Reaper bent toward her and gave her neck a long sniff, Kahmal turned to glare at him, her eyes flashing. “What is it you do?” she demanded.

"You smell of mangoes,” Corydon said. “I like mangoes.” His amber eyes glittered.

"Get away from me, Reaper,” Kahmal snapped, stepping back.

His gaze wandered over her red hair. “And I've always been partial to red heads."

Kahmal lifted her chin. “Stay away from me,” she said and spun around.

"You're going to be mine, you know,” Corydon said in a slow, sultry drawl.

The Amazeen pivoted around—eyes wide and fists doubled at her side.

Corydon nodded. “I marked you as mine the moment I saw you in the Titaness, wench. There will be no denying me."