Tears of the Reaper Read online

  Being as careful as they could be, the two men—unaccustomed to acting as lady’s maids—managed to get the clean gown over Rachel’s head and her arms thrust through the sleeve. Once done, the men were sweating profusely, avoiding looking at one another.

  “All right,” Iden said as they lay Rachel down gently on her stomach again. “What now?”

  “I don’t want to stay here until morning,” Glyn said. As the one temporarily in charge since Owen was unable to lead them, it was his decision to make. “I say we hitch up a buckboard and take her with us from this place.”

  “Where to?”

  “Back across the border to Saint Marie,” Glyn replied. “We’ll leave her there with a healer while we hunt down the Drochtáirs, although to tell the truth, I don’t give a damn if those creatures tear all the menfolk here to pieces. However I do care about the women and children.”

  “Works for me,” Iden said then glanced at the wolf. “Is that all right with you?”

  The wolf bobbed its head.

  “Alrighty then,” Glyn said. “Go upstairs and get a mattress and plenty of warm covers. I’ll see to the buckboard. One of the men fetched Owen’s saddlebags for me so I guess we have everything.” He looked down at Owen. “You’ll have to ride in the back of the wagon until you shift back. If you still aren’t capable of fashioning your uniform, I’ll do it for you.”

  The wolf sneezed at that remark as though it irritated him no end.

  “Will you stop acting like a cub?” Glyn grumbled. He started for the door.

  “Man, you should have seen him Transition,” Iden said, walking beside him. “I didn’t know it was possible to do it that quickly and I never even saw his clothes rip. They just vanished and there he stood with his bad-ass self.”

  “Too much tenerse and too much testosterone flooding his system when he got angry,” Glyn said. “It’s a lethal combination.”

  The wolf stood and nudged the unconscious woman with its muzzle. When Rachel groaned, it ran its tongue over her bare arm, licking her gently. Although it was unable to communicate to her with words or even thoughts, it understood what was happening and its great heart was breaking. It could smell the seeping of a little blood, the ooze of plasma from her wounds, and it felt such a rage tumbling in its breast it wanted to tear the throat from the man who had hurt her. By the time Glyn and Iden had everything ready and Glyn came to gently lift the wolf’s intended mate from the settee, the beast had tears in its golden eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  There were four elders of the ruling Senate sitting with the high elder at the large round table in the meeting hall. A single fat red candle burned in the center of the table and the draperies had been pulled shut over the few windows in the room. Outside, two brothers guarded the conclave.

  “They have taken the woman from New Towne,” Elder Vaughn reported. “Brother Simon overheard them saying they will take her to Saint Marie on their side of the border. I have sent for the poleen.”

  Elder Dayton, Elder Barrow and Elder Constantine looked to the high elder. It was after all his offspring who had caused them to convene.

  “I want you to make the trip to the Bastion as was planned, Elder Dayton, come morning,” High Elder Chamberlain stated. “Make sure our leaders understand there will be a conflict with the Reapers when the poleen return to us.”

  “Surely the leaders will not interfere in Communalist business,” Elder Constantine spoke up.

  “They never have,” Elder Barrow reminded his fellow member of the Senate.

  “True, but there has never been a complaint issued to them,” the high elder said. “The Shadowlords will act in the interests of their men and will surely extend a protest when the woman is brought to justice.”

  “I do not believe it will be the Shadowlords who will come after us but Lord Owen,” Elder Barrow suggested.

  “And perhaps his men,” Elder Vaughn added.

  “That is a given,” the high elder concurred. “There will be no claghit gy baase but merely a meting out of the punishment she rightly deserves. What he does with her after he Joins with her is his concern, not ours.”

  “Do you not believe he will lie with her outside the bonds of Joining?” Elder Constantine asked.

  “Nay, I do not believe he will. Reapers are honorable men,” High Elder Chamberlain answered.

  “But she is not an honorable woman. She has proven that,” Elder Vaughn said. “We all know how tempting such a female can be and though they are mighty warriors, Reapers are also men.”

  The high elder’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “She has been cast out from the Colony. What she has done requires retribution and retribution will be handed down. If she has sinned further, the punishment will fit the crime.”

  * * * * *

  It was nearing one o’clock in the morning when the Reapers and their moaning cargo reached Saint Marie in the Wismin Territory. Glyn once more lifted Rachel into his arms and carried her toward the lone hotel, hissing at Owen that he could not traipse along beside him.

  “You want the town up in arms?” Glyn challenged. “It’s bad enough two Reapers show up in the dead of night with an unconscious woman in tow and you expect the hotel management to just look the other way as you trot up the fucking stairs behind us?” He hissed. “Get real, Tohre!”

  A low, angry growl came from the wolf before it turned and trotted off into the dark shadows of an alley, its tail switching angrily.

  “What the hell is he doing?” Iden asked as he gathered the three sets of saddlebags.

  “Who the fuck knows?” Glyn snapped. “Get the door.”

  The clerk behind the desk looked up from the newspaper and froze when the two black-clad warriors entered the hotel lobby. He stared at them for a moment then his eyes rolled up in his head and he dropped to the floor like a rock.

  Glyn sighed deeply. “Grab us a couple of keys.”

  Iden went behind the counter, snorted at the desk clerk and hooked two adjoining keys from the pegboard. “Nine and ten,” he said.

  “That’ll do,” Glyn said, heading for the stairs.

  Iden pulled a gold piece from his pocket and dropped it on the counter then hurried ahead of Glyn up the stairs, unlocked the door to number nine and held it open. While his fellow Reaper held Rachel by the bed, Iden lit a lamp then came over to pull the covers back.

  “You know it just dawned on me that we never did get any supper,” Iden commented as Glyn lowered Rachel to the bed. “I think I’ll go scrounge around in the hotel kitchen and rustle us up something.”

  “Make a pot of strong tea while you’re at it,” Glyn suggested. “I’ve some herbs to brew in it that will help Owen’s lady.” He was pulling the covers over her, adjusting her head on the pillow as she lay there on her stomach.

  “Fix me something too,” Owen said as he strolled into the room, his black uniform in place.

  “I see you didn’t want to take me up on the offer of fashioning you some clothes,” Glyn said with a grin.

  “I had no intention of walking into this hotel butt-naked with my stick dangling,” Owen snapped, “just so you could show off your molecule hurling.”

  “You feeling okay?” Iden asked.

  “I feel like I could go back to New Towne and make a meal of Rachel’s kin,” Owen growled. He came to the bed and his eyes crinkled with hurt. “By the gods, I will make him pay for hurting her like this.”

  “Can’t say as I blame you,” Glyn said. He glanced at Rachel for she was beginning to stir. “I’ll have Iden bring you a tray and the tea. Make sure she drinks as much as she can.”

  Owen nodded. He sat down on the room’s only chair and pulled off his boots. The energy he had expended to create the clothing he wore had taken a steep toll on his energy and resources. He felt as weak as a kitten and his head was beginning to pound again.

  “Do you need a bit of tenerse to help you rest?” Glyn asked.

  It wasn’t as much what Glyn had asked as t
he way in which he’d asked it. His fellow Reaper had let Owen know the tenerse would be doled out for the time being in increments approved by the Shadowlords.

  “My head hurts,” Owen said.

  “I’ll send you in a small dose.”

  After stripping off his belt and pulling the tail of his silk shirt from his pants, Owen unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up to just below his elbows. He unhooked the top button of his pants then pulled the chair closer to the bed. He sat down, leaned forward and put a palm to Rachel’s forehead to check for fever. Satisfied she was cool enough, he slumped back in the chair and ran a hand over his face.

  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so drained and that concerned him. They had a job to do in finding the evil that was the Drochtáirs and eliminating it. If the creatures looked as bad as Landon Graves, he couldn’t help but wonder what the source must look like.

  Tipping his chin up, he closed his eyes and rolled his head from side to side. That did nothing to help his budding headache but it did help to relieve the tightness in his neck and shoulders.

  “You should rest.”

  His eyes snapped open and he looked down to find Rachel’s uniquely beautiful violet eyes regarding him. He hunched forward. “How are you, milady?”

  “It hurts,” she told him.

  “I can send you back to sleep,” he said softly. He wanted to hold her but he didn’t dare.

  “Where are we?”

  “In Saint Marie, on my side of the border,” he answered.

  “They let you take me from New Towne?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “I claimed you as my own,” he stated. “They had no choice.”

  “Claimed me?” she echoed, searching his gaze. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that come morning, I will find a priest to say the words over us and we will be legally Joined,” he replied.

  Rachel stared at him. “You want to marry me?”

  “I am going to marry you, wench,” he stated.

  “But you don’t know me,” she protested. “No man at the Colony wanted me as his wife. I…”

  “I do,” Owen interrupted her, “and I always get what I want.”

  A little smile tugged at her lips. “Always, Lord Owen?”

  “Always, Lady Rachel,” he said, and reached out to drag the backs of his fingers down her soft cheek. His voice lowered and went deeper. “Always.”

  Iden entered the room with a tray and smiled when he saw Rachel was awake. “How’s she doing, Owen?”

  “This is Iden Belial,” Owen told Rachel, seeing the fear developing in her gaze. “He is a friend of mine.”

  “A Reaper?” she whispered.

  “One of two who came to help me rid the Colony of those preying on it,” Owen said. “She’s hurting, Iden.”

  “I have something here that will help,” Iden said. “Glynn tossed a packet of healing herbs into the tea. He said it might be a tad bitter but it will help her to sleep comfortably.”

  “Will you take a few sips?” Owen asked her.

  “I’ll try,” she said. “I am very thirsty.”

  “You lost quite a bit of blood,” he told her.

  “Is…is it very bad?” she asked, moisture gathering in her gaze.

  “It will heal,” Owen stated.

  “But I will be scarred,” she said.

  As a single crystal tear fell slowly down her cheek, Owen wanted to roar with fury. He wanted to smash something. He wanted to kill something. He wanted to tear the room apart with his bare hands, jump from the window and soar into the night straight for her father, wrapping his hands around the bastard’s neck.

  “What is on your back does not detract from your beauty, milady,” he told her, his words catching in his throat.

  “But all I had to give you was an unblemished body, milord,” she said. “I had nothing else.”

  Owen knew a moment of such utter helplessness he could barely draw breath. Because he had put his unclean hands on this innocent girl, because he had corrupted her, the man who had brought her into this world had disfigured her for life and that thought haunted Owen Tohre mercilessly.

  “You have everything I could have ever wanted, y chree,” he declared. “The goddess Herself sent you to me. I’ve no doubt of that. She would not have sent a woman to one of Her Reapers if She thought that woman was not meant for him.”

  “What does that mean?” she asked. “Y chree?”

  “My heart,” he answered, and took the cup of tea from Iden.

  “Will you turn me over please?” she questioned.

  “I don’t know, Rachel,” Owen said, his eyes filled with uncertainty.

  “I need to know how bad it is,” she said.

  Iden and Owen looked at one another and Iden shrugged. He bid them both a good night and left, knowing he was no longer needed in the room.

  Very carefully, Owen helped Rachel to turn in the bed so she was sitting up. He could see sweat glistening on her sweet face as she sat there, breathing shallowly. He knew it would be a long time before she could take a deep breath. With his arm behind her neck, he helped her to take a sip of the fragrant tea.

  “It’s not so bad,” she said, grimacing.

  “I’ve had a few of Glyn’s infusions and if you can swallow that one, it isn’t as bad as most,” he replied.

  After a few more sips she asked him to lower her to the mattress. As she held her breath, he did and when her back touched the soft sheets, she squeezed her eyes shut.

  “No,” she said, unable to bear the pain.

  “I didn’t think so,” he said, and eased her back over to her stomach. “Let’s give it a bit more time, sweeting.”

  She looked at the tray of food. “You need to eat,” she said.

  “I will when…”

  “Now, Owen,” she insisted. “You will grow weak if you don’t. Sit and eat.”

  The Reaper felt a tremor shimmy down his body at her words and the very heart inside his body seemed to swell. It wasn’t just that she had accepted him without much of a protest, but that she was looking at him with something akin to hero worship in her lovely gaze. That look made him feel invincible.

  Making quick work of his food, for he figured Glyn would be arriving any minute to dose him with the tenerse, he made sure Rachel was as comfortable as possible, that she didn’t want anything save a goodly drink of water, and then sat down once more in the chair to wait for his teammate. He didn’t have long to wait.

  Glyn tapped lightly at the door and Owen told him to come in. The Reaper smiled at Rachel. “I’m Glyn Kullen,” he said.

  “Thank you for your help, Lord Glyn,” she said.

  “It was my honor, milady,” Glyn replied. He looked to Owen. “You ready?”

  “Aye.”

  Rachel watched as the contents of the vac-syringe were injected into Owen’s neck, flinching as he flinched. “That looked painful,” she said.

  “It’s not so bad,” Owen lied. He knew Glyn had given him a larger amount than he expected and glanced up at his friend.

  “You need to sleep,” Glyn explained.

  “I’ll make a pallet on the floor and…”

  “No, you will not,” Rachel disagreed. “You will sleep beside your betrothed.”

  Glyn’s handsome face crinkled with amusement. “You heard the lady, Reaper. Get your rump in bed where you belong.”

  Owen gave Glyn a narrowed look. “What did you put in the wench’s tea?”

  “A bit of backbone,” Glyn said with a chuckle. “See you in the morning.” He saluted his team leader then left, still laughing.

  “Don’t you want to sleep beside me?” Rachel asked.

  Owen wanted nothing more than to do just that. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, watching her, and when a gentle smile eased over her beautiful face, he decided not to fight his desires.

  “I sleep naked, wench,” he said.

  Rachel sighed. “Shirtless, maybe, but until we are man and wife
, you’ll have to make do with wearing pants and being outside the covers.”

  “He put more than backbone in that gods-be-damned tea,” Owen mumbled under his breath as his fingers tripped down the buttons of his shirt. He peeled it off then draped it over the back of the chair.

  “I feel funny, Owen,” she said.

  “Aye, wench, I bet you do,” he said with a sigh, making a mental note to have a long talk with Kullen come morning.

  “Come to bed,” she said.

  Knowing full well Rachel would be filled with embarrassment at her actions in the daylight when Kullen’s pharmacopeia of drugs wore off, Owen went around to the other side of the bed and sat down. He stared at the far wall for a long moment before swinging his legs up on the bed and stretching out as far from Rachel as the space would allow.

  “I will make you a good wife, Owen,” he heard Rachel say, her voice groggy.

  “I know you will, Rachel,” he said, and turned his head on the pillow to look at her. The ragged cap of ash blonde curls looked cute on her instead of shameful as the cut was no doubt intended. With all his heart, he wished he could rake his fingers through those soft curls.

  “Thank you for wanting me.”

  For the longest time he lay there with his head turned toward her until his eyelids grew heavy. The last thought he had before a much-needed sleep claimed him was sent winging through the ether to listening ears he knew would hear. “Thank you for sending her to me,” he whispered.

  “You are welcome, my Reaper.”

  * * * * *

  Under the deep cover of night something old as time slithered among the fields of New Towne. Where it passed, the winter crops withered and the ground became barren. A thick, slimy substance was left behind to mark its passing. Wildlife fled the advancing horror on frightened wings and alarmed paws and skittish hoofs so that the animals caged in pens that could not escape fell victim to the ravenous hunger. Wild shrieks of terror rang out in the night as that hunger was appeased. Though no human met death and damnation at the fangs of the creatures, the destruction and devastation left in the wake was vast. Splintered bones lay scattered about like fluff from a dandelion. No blood, no flesh, no marrow—nothing that could be consumed—remained of what had once been thriving herds and flocks.