BlackMoon Reaper (10 page)

“Morrigunia can go and come as She pleases, but those She brings through say it hurts

like hell. Anyone else who tries would simply disintegrate.”

“So that’s why I felt that gods-be-damned pain when She brought me here!”

Fontabeau said.

“Where would the mine captain keep the explosives?” Phelan asked.

“I’m guessing in the storage shed under lock and key,” Fontabeau replied. “We can

break the lock though. The laser pistol can cut through any metal.”

But once they had blown the lock off the metal cabinets where the gunman thought

the explosives would be, they found nothing. A thorough search of the shed and the

surrounding buildings turned up nothing they could use to blow the mine to bits.

“Then we’ll have to ride back to town and get what we can there,” Phelan said,

annoyed at the delay.

“I don’t know why we would be able to find anything in town. The general store

leaves a lot to be desired in the way of supplies other than picks, axes, shovels and

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BlackMoon Reaper

things the miners need to come to work up here,” Fontabeau said, “but maybe Brell can

tell us where the explosives are being kept.”

“All right, then we’ll go back to town, get what we can and if there’s nothing to be

had in Haxton Cove, I’ll contact the Shadowlords and have the supplies brought up to

us from Robbinsville. We’ll come back here tomorrow and blow the hell out of the

place.”

“What about any humans in town who might be headed up here?” Fontabeau

asked. “We can’t allow them to be harmed.”

“You said Brell expects you to see to the mine,” Phelan replied. “That’s what you’ll

do. When we get back to town, we search out the humans and hire them on. We tell

them to stay in town until we can haul them up to the mines. One thing puzzles me

though.”

“That being?”

“Why She wants your boss protected at all cost,” Phelan replied. “What makes him

so special?”

“Now that I can’t tell you,” the gunman answered. “He’s nice enough, but there’s

something very mysterious about him. Something in his eyes that sends chills down a

man’s spine.” He scratched his nose with a hooked finger. “Like a spider crawling

down your back, you know?”

“What do you know of him?”

Fontabeau shrugged. “He’s very rich and very powerful in the mining game. Has

mines here and in Parmeny. Single, though I hear he has a mistress in Pittsadel in the

Parmeny Territory. Where he came from, I have no idea, but I get the feeling it wasn’t

Terra.”

Phelan’s eyebrows shot up. “Not a Terran?”

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think he’s Terran.”

“She brought him here for a reason then,” Phelan said. “My guess is they don’t

know about him at the Citadel.”

“They do now.”
It was Lord Naois’ amused voice.

“Intrusive bastards,” Fontabeau snapped. “Do they always spy on you?”

“Unfortunately so,” Phelan acknowledged. “Lord Naois? Will you send your drone

to chart out the humans and non-humans at the Cove? I’m sure you’ll have it pass over

Brell while you’re at it.”

“Count on it.”

“Also, I may need to have you send detonators and charges to me from

Robbinsville if I’m to shut down the mine.”

“They are already on the way to you, Lord Phelan.”

“My thanks.”

The Shadowlord pulled back.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I’ve a question,” Fontabeau said. “She’s all-powerful. Why did She allow the

Ceannus on this planet to begin with? Why doesn’t She just pounce on them with

vengeance and rid us of these threats?”

“She may not be as all-powerful as She would have us think. I believe there’s a limit

to Her powers here,” Phelan said. “Unless She is in direct confrontation with Her foe, I

don’t think She can eliminate them. We are Her eyes and ears and sword hands on this

world. She put us here to do Her fighting for Her. The Ceannus haven’t been the only

creatures we Reapers have fought to keep the humans safe. There were ghorets brought

here by the Ceannus, the
drochtáirs
up in the Provinces and vile creatures called zombies

down in my part of the woods. We’re also concerned there is another—even worse—

threat somewhere along the seaboard that’s waiting to rear its ugly head.”

“Oh, that’s a cheerful thought. What kind of threat?”

“We don’t know, but one of my teammates thinks he brought the evil with him

from beyond space and that it’s biding its time, waiting for the right moment to strike. It

could be in Vircars or down in Flagala. We won’t know until it strikes.”

“Not good,” Fontabeau commented.

“No,” Phelan agreed. “Not good at all.”

* * * * *

They rode back to town under a darkening sky. Low rumbles of thunder came from

the west where the horizon flexed with lightning. The air smelled of ozone and the

horses were becoming skittish.

“Storm coming,” Fontabeau said.

“Maybe it will keep everyone inside until we can get rid of the imposters.”

A loud crack of lightning split the air and the first droplets of rain began to fall.

Urging their mounts to a faster clip, the Reapers tried to outrace the impending

tempest. By the time they reached the Cove, the rain was coming down with force and

they were drenched.

The smithy was gone from the stables when they took their horses inside, rubbed

them down and gave each a portion of hay and buckets of water. A wave of their hands

had put dry clothes on them and fashioned slickers they would wear when they headed

across the street.

“Maybe it’ll slack up soon,” Phelan said as they stood in the doorway watching the

deluge.

“I’m in no hurry to venture out in that mess,” Fontabeau said, and went over to a

hay bale to sit. “Although I could use a shot or two of whiskey.”

Listening to the rain pelting the tin roof of the stable and the wind howling beyond

the opened doors, Phelan took up residence on another hay bale and leaned his back

against a roof support.

“Tell me about your teammates,” Fontabeau suggested to pass the time.

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BlackMoon Reaper

“Well, let’s see. Arawn Gehdrin is our Prime. He’s from Annwn and oversees the

Oklaks Territory along with Eanan Tohre, twin brother to Owen. Those two are from

Draíoct
. Owen has charge of Wismin and Moilia. Second in Command is Bevyn Coure.

If memory serves he’s from
Críonna
and he’s over in Armistenky. Next there’s Cynyr

Cree from
Cairéal
. His territory is Exasla. Glyn Kullen is from
Breathnóir
and he patrols

Micinoh. Down at the end of Serenia is Flagala and that’s run by Iden Belial from Othar.

We also have Kasid Jaborn who more or less oversees the lands closest to the Citadel.

He’s from Akhkharu.”

“A diverse bunch,” Fontabeau said, “and all from the Old Worlds of the

WindWarriors except for the Akhkharulian.”

They were silent for a moment then the gunman asked which of the men were

mated.

“Legally Joined?” Phelan asked.

“Both.”

“Legally, Arawn, Cynyr, Owen and his twin Eanan and Glyn. Bevyn is mated but

they’ve yet to tie the knot. Kasid has a woman he’s courting, but I get the feeling he’s

not all that serious about it. Iden has no mate nor the prospect of one to my knowledge,

and then there’s me.”

“And you’re sitting on the fence.”

“Aye, I guess I am.”

“Best make your mind up before you leave here,” the gunman advised. “What

about the hellions? Have any of the females been Transferred?”

Phelan stretched out his legs. “All but four of the legal mates of the Reapers have

been given a hellion. The exceptions being the Gatekeepers who belong to Eanan and

Glyn’s lady. The Shadowlords have cracked down on making new Reapers because

Glyn dared to Transfer one of his revenant worms to his lady’s girl-child to bring her

back to life.”

“A child?” Fontabeau asked. “That’s not good.”

“No, but she is under the tutelage of both the goddess and a Worldly One as well as

learning athletic skills from an Amazeen.”

Fontabeau whistled. “Then she will be a formidable opponent and a handful for

whatever mate she chooses.”

“I’ve a feeling the mate has already been chosen,” Phelan said. “By you know Who.

The goddess leaves no stone unturned.”

“A Worldly One, eh?” The gunman smiled. “I am partial to those egotistical little

beings. The owner of the brothel where I was kept had a male and a female she served. I

learned a thing or two from them.”

“Aye, we serve them, that’s for sure!” Phelan declared. He chuckled. “Lord Kheelan

hates Elfinish.”

“Does he now?” Fontabeau drawled.

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

The building shook beneath a loud boom of thunder and the rain increased.

“At this rate, we’re going to be here all night,” Phelan complained.

“Whatcha say we make a run for it? My belly is starting to rumble.”

“Might as well,” Phelan agreed.

Gathering their saddle bags, they dashed across the muddy, puddle-riddled street

against the howling wind and into the saloon, surprised there were no patrons and the

piano lid was pulled down over the keys.

“Where the hell is everybody?” Phelan asked, dropping his saddlebags to a table.

“Lucy?” Fontabeau bellowed, dropping his saddlebags to the floor before racing up

the stairs.

Phelan’s heart was pounding as he streaked up the stairs behind Fontabeau. Fear

had put an iron taste in his mouth, and when Fontabeau came up against Lucy’s door,

found it locked then slammed his shoulder into it, Phelan drew his six-shooter.

“Lucy!” Phelan howled. Something was blocking the door and he plowed into it.

Beyond the door there was a scraping sound.

“She’s got the dresser shoved up against it,” Fontabeau said, and added his

shoulder to Phelan’s until the door jamb cracked and the door opened. It took them

only a second or two to push the dresser aside.

“Damn it, Lucy, where are you?” Phelan yelled.

“We’re down here,” came a small, shaky voice.

Phelan holstered his gun then dropped to his knees and looked under the bed. Two

sets of gleaming eyes stared back at him. “What the hell are you doing under there,

wench?”

“Hiding,” Lucy said in a small voice. She reached a hand toward him. “Help me

out, Phe.”

Phelan took her hand and pulled her out from under the tight confines of the bed

where she had been wedged. As he helped her to her feet, he grabbed her in a bear hug.

“Woman, don’t scare me like that ever again, you hear?” he roared. He cradled her

against him as though he’d never let her go, his heart pounding with the fear he’d lost

her.

A dark hand reached out to Fontabeau and he took it. Phelan was relieved to see it

was the elderly black lady from the hotel.

“Rossman came back and brought Bret with him,” Lucy said against Phelan’s chest.

“They weren’t right. I knew it the minute I saw them.”

“I came here looking for you, Lord Phelan,” the old woman said. “Merciful Alel

help me, I was so scared.”

“I grabbed Nellie by the arm and dragged her up here and hid, but no one came

after us.”

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BlackMoon Reaper

Fontabeau drew the frail woman into his arms and held her, patting her back

clumsily. She was trembling, her shoulder blades standing out like the points of a picket

fence on her thin back. “You’re safe now, Nellie.”

“Where are the other women?” Phelan asked.

“Gone,” Lucy said. “They began to disappear one right after the other soon after

you two rode out of town.” She put a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know where they

are.”

“I think we’re the only normal ones left in this here town,” the old lady said.

Fontabeau’s eyes flared. He pushed Nellie away. “Shit! I need to find Brell!” He tore

out of the room like a bat out of hell.

“Come on,” Phelan said. “Let’s get you in another room and lock the door. I’ve got

to help Beau.”

The women followed him out into the hall and to the next room down. Leaving

them at the door, he inspected the room then motioned them inside. “Lock the door and

push the dresser against it. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” He removed his six-

shooter and handed it into Lucy’s keeping. “Aim for the head.”

As he pounded down the stairs, he heard the thump of the dresser hitting the door

and felt a modicum of relief. Before sprinting across the street to the hotel, he drew the

laser pistol from its holster and cocked the trigger to prime the weapon then darted

across the sodden street and through the door the gunman had left standing open. He

called Fontabeau’s name.

“Up here!”

Taking the stairs two at a time, Phelan found Fontabeau standing beside a bed, a

muscular man sitting on the mattress before him.

“This is Kiel,” Fontabeau said, and the man shifted dark gray eyes glittering with

unspeakable pain to the Reaper.

“I won’t be of any help to you until this passes,” Desdon Brell said just above a

whisper.

“I told him what’s been going on,” Fontabeau explained. “We need to get him with

the women.”

“I am shamed I am too weak to fight alongside you.” The man on the bed tried to

stand but his legs gave out from under him and he sat down. “I’m handy enough with a