“I’m partial to the wind,” he replied. “I love the sound of it howling through the
eaves.”
“Aye, that is a pleasant sound.”
They said nothing for a few minutes and then Bevyn turned over on his side so he
was looking at her, though she could not see his face in the darkness. A horse neighed,
another answered, and above them the rafters creaked.
“Lea…”
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“I know what you are going to say,” she cut him off. “Please don’t. I don’t like that
woman and I never will. She came here to take you back with her and if she’s ever
given the chance, she’ll do it.”
“She might try,” he said. “Do you really think the goddess would allow me to be
taken?”
Lea thought about that. “No, I suppose She would not.”
“Then don’t concern yourself with the Blackwind. I am fairly sure she will remain
behind at the Citadel when we leave.”
“Why would she?” she queried.
“What is there for her here?”
“You,” she stated.
“Well, she can’t have me,” he declared. “My woman would not allow it.”
“Damned straight she wouldn’t,” Lea stated.
“Besides, I imagine the Shadowlords will insist she stay there and Morrigunia will
more than likely have something to say about it although…” He paused then turned to
his back.
“Although what?” his lady pressed.
“The goddess didn’t make a concerted effort to stop Penthe from following me to
Orson. Something tells me She has plans for the Blackwind.”
“As long as those plans don’t include you, I’m okay with it,” Lea said.
From the dark corner of the stable where She sat perched in midair, Her pale green
iridescent gown streaming around Her, Morrigunia smiled. She liked the feisty little
human girl who had captured Bevyn Coure’s heart and imprisoned his body. Had She
not, Lea would never have been put in the Reaper’s path to begin with.
But as for the Amazeen Blackwind…
The Triune Goddess narrowed her dark green eyes into angry slits. Though She had
no intention of harming the warrioress, neither would She allow the bitch to cause the
Reapers problems…especially not Bevyn. As for the Shadowlords, She could not have
cared less what headaches the Blackwind caused Kheelan and his cronies.
Morning brought rain and the rain would stay on for the two days to follow, so that
by the time the stagecoach in which Bevyn and the two women would ride to Clewiston
arrived at Cornelia’s, the roadways were nothing less than quagmires.
“By the gods, I hope you don’t get bogged down on the way,” Buford told the
Reaper. The sheriff had insisted on having his best deputy drive.
Bevyn was standing at the coach door, his slicker running with raindrops, his hat
pulled low over his face, water falling from the brim. “Take care of Préachán for me?”
he asked as he climbed into the carriage.
“Aye, milord,” Buford acknowledged, and tightly shut the door behind the Reaper.
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Lea and Penthe were already in the coach, sitting on opposite sides, ignoring one
another. It would prove to be a long ride to Clewiston with the window flaps down to
keep out the rain.
“A bad day for traveling, Reaper,” Penthe remarked as he struggled to pull off his
wet slicker with Lea’s help.
“That it is,” Bevyn replied. He folded the slicker and put it under his seat. “Does
your weapon draw lightning to it?”
Penthe had been unhappy that her Dóigra had to be lashed to the top of the
stagecoach and wouldn’t be close at hand. “Not as long as I do not direct it so,” she
answered. She cocked her head to one side. “How did you know it drew lightning?”
“Isn’t that how it pulls power into the laser?” he asked.
The Blackwind arched a brow. “You know more of Amazeen technology than I
would have imagined, Coure. How is that?”
Bevyn tugged the black leather glove from his right hand and held it up, its back to
Penthe.
“Ah, she marked you,” Penthe said. “That I did not know. Is the star on the other
hand as well?”
“Aye.”
Lea reached out to take Bevyn’s hand. She had missed the faint burn mark on his
flesh. “One of those things like she carries did this?” she queried. At her husband’s nod,
she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.
“How touching,” Penthe said with a smirk.
Bevyn shot the Blackwind an irritated look. “I’ve tried to recharge my laser whip in
the same manner as Kennocha did her Dóigra but I haven’t been able to.”
“It is the glass filament in the head that stores the energy,” Penthe told him.
“That explains it then,” he said.
The hour’s ride to the railhead took longer since the coach and horses were bucking
a fierce headwind. The passengers were being tossed about inside as rain lashed at the
windows, lightning cracked loudly and the wooden wheels rolled into deep ruts.
Bevyn was fidgeting in his seat. He didn’t like being confined—no Reaper did—and
his nerves were raw and on edge.
“How close are you to Transition, Coure?” Penthe asked.
The Reaper frowned. “About a month,” he said, glancing at Lea. He never had any
intention of allowing his lady to see him shapeshift into his wolflike form and didn’t
even like bringing the subject up around her.
“I’ve never seen a Reaper change,” Penthe said. “I imagine it is quite a stirring
sight. I look forward to it.”
“I doubt you will ever be a witness to a Transition, wench,” he mumbled.
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Penthe narrowed her eyes. “What are the chances of my becoming Terra’s first
female Reaper?”
Bevyn grinned nastily. “A Reaper would have to volunteer one of his fledglings and
I doubt that will happen, wench.”
“Even if I swore allegiance to the Shadowlords?” the Blackwind pressed.
“Why would you want something so evil inside you?” Lea asked, horrified at the
notion.
“Evil?” Penthe asked. “You think your man evil, Terran?”
“No, of course not but—”
“Then why do you think any part of him would be evil?” Penthe challenged.
“The thing inside him is immoral. It is vile!” Lea hissed, and snatched her hand
from Bevyn when he would have taken it.
“Aye, well, now I can see why he won’t Join with you, Terran,” Penthe said. “You
fear what makes him the very man you love!”
“That’s enough,” Bevyn said, his face hard.
“He knows I don’t want that thing
