Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Wyndsheer (17 page)

“What do you think this monster is?” Ordwell inquired. “Did you ask MacGivern?”

“An Fear Liath Mor,” Wendt said. “He called it the big gray man.”

Ordwell’s assistant drew in a harsh breath and when the scientist shot the man a quick look the assistant put a hand to his throat. “I thought that was an old talespinner’s yarn!”

“Does it mean something to you, Alex?” Ordwell asked.

“There is a legend of the Guardian of the Gateway,” the assistant replied. “The name given it was An Fear Liath Mor, Geata Coimirceoir. That translates to the big gray man, guardian of the gateway--he who keeps the entrance to the Abyss.”

Ordwell narrowed his eyes. “What exactly does that mean--the Abyss?”

“Some say it is the doorway into another dimension,” the man answered. “A way through time and space to the other side of the megaverse. Others say it is a pathway into hell, itself, where legions of demons rule.”

“Where monsters are born,” Wendt said, nodding. “Monsters like the big gray man on the ridge.”

“Could such a creature actually exist?” Ordwell queried Alex.

“I can’t say, sir,” the assistant answered. “Since Lycants exist ....”

“One Lycant,” Ordwell interrupted. “Only one still exists.” He tapped his bottom lip with his index fingers. “But if there really is something up there, it would behoove us to find it and take it into custody, to investigate this supposed gateway into another dimension.”

Wendt laughed. “Yeah, right. You do that.”

“Are you afraid of this so-called monster, Agent Wendt?” Ordwell asked.

“I’ll stay away from it,” Wendt declared. “That’s for fucking sure!”

“Would you kill it if I gave you the means with which to do it?”

An unholy light entered Wendt’s face. “You’d better believe I would!”

Ordwell inclined his head. “All right.” He turned to his assistant. “Alex, tell Dr. DeLayne that I would like him to begin work immediately on the most powerful poison he can concoct. Tell him I want enough death in a single cartridge to bring down an entire herd of crazed rhinos. Tell him to make six rounds and fashion them into a size that can be loaded into an automatic rifle that can fire those rounds in a single burst.”

The assistant gave a slight bow of the head.

“That ought to take that stinking beast down!” Wendt said after a low whistle.

“It would be enough to take down a tyrannosaurus if one still existed,” Ordwell agreed. He leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps your monster is some holdover from that Sasquatch nonsense from before the First Burning War.”

“I’m gonna kill it whatever it is,” Wendt vowed.

“But if it is killed, Dr. Ordwell, how will we garner any information concerning the gateway or what might lie beyond?” his assistant inquired.

Ordwell frowned. “You have a point.” He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip. “Tell DeLayne to give us a very strong tranquilizer instead, then, and to ready shackles that could restrain that herd of charging rhinos.”

Wendt snorted. “There isn’t anything strong enough to hold something like that, but you’ll see. You’ll see.” He turned away. “While you’re fucking with the An Fear Liath Mor and its fucking with you, maybe tearing a few heads off, I’m gonna be looking for a way to kill it!”

The door to the sheriff’s office opened and Agent Colton Gray came in. He gave Dr. Ordwell a crisp salute. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“I am told the Lycant has a human here with whom he is close,” Ordwell said. “Bring that person to me.”

“The old biddy who runs the general store,” Gray stated. “I’m on it, Sir.” He saluted again, then left, Ordwell’s assistant right behind him.

“You going to question the bitch?” Wendt asked.

“I doubt there is anything she can tell me that I don’t already know,” Ordwell replied. “No, I have other plans for her.” He smiled brutally. “Something that will be sure to bring our Lycant down to us when he settles back into his humanoid state.”

* * * *

The Guardian sat cross-legged just out side the entrance to the Lycant’s lair, munching contentedly on a haunch of venison. It liked its meat rare--so rare, in fact, it never felt the kiss of flame. Keenly aware of every insect, every reptile, two- and four-legged creature within a hundred yards of where it sat, those unwavering hawk like eyes continually scanned its surroundings, its ears cocked for any sound it knew should not be in the vicinity. As soon as its great black nostrils caught the scent of man and the furtive whispering of cloth against flesh as the human moved, a dark spark of savagery leapt in An Fear Liath Mor’s stare. It rose to its full height then dissolved into mist, taking the deer meat with it so no tell-tale sign of its whereabouts would be detected by the intruder.

Or intruders as the creature reckoned as another scent assailed its muzzle. Stealthily stalking the stalkers without emitting the pheromones that would induce fear in those who sensed it, it kept close watch on the humans and when they drew near to the Lycant's lair, it released a small whiff of the very potent chemical that released alarm signals into the air.

“Hold up!” it heard one of the humans hiss in a low tone and the two others moving with the trespasser stilled instantly, weapons raised.

All three human men stood amidst a clump of concealing brush and carefully surveyed their surroundings. Cautious eyes tracked from tree to tree, boulder to boulder, and scanned the ground underfoot. The leader squatted down to inspect the forest floor. He was an expert tracker but there were no signs for him to read.

“I don’t see anything,” he whispered.

In its incorporeal state, the Guardian grinned hatefully. It could increase the release of the chemicals from its body to a level that would terrify the humans or it could make a sound to alarm the interlopers, but it did nothing. It simply waited, issuing silent mental commands to the men to move away from the place where the Lycant entered his dwelling place.

“MacGivern hasn’t been this way,” the leader said. “Let’s move out.”

Watching the human men until they disappeared into the greensward, An Fear Liath Mor leaned against a tall tree and began to scratch its back on the rough bark, tearing at the leg of venison, growling low in its throat at the pleasant sensation of tree to hairy shoulders. One ear was tuned to the passage of the humans and the other to the various under sounds moving through the forest. Satisfied no immediate threat was close enough to worry about, it slid down by the tree and continued on with its meal.

* * *

The woman who had decided that Mairi was a name she much preferred to her own was mending one of Jamie’s shirts and humming softly to herself. It had been two days since her lover had left her and she wondered if he missed her as much as she missed him. She had used their time apart to clean the cabin thoroughly from top to bottom and to rearrange drawers and cupboards, and to bake brownies from scratch. She had also sat at the table and gone over the plans for the house that was being built for them. She refused to worry about outsiders causing them any problems.

Sighing tiredly--her muscles sore from all the stooping and squatting and bending she’d done while cleaning--she put the shirt aside and closed her eyes, laying her head on the rocker’s tall back. The cabin was soundproof and comfortable so within a few minutes she was dozing softly, her hands curled toward one another in her lap.

It was a sensual dream that flitted through her mind and she gave herself over to it with ease. Jamie was stripped to the waist, hammering a two by four into place on the frame of the screened porch that would jut out over the babbling brook running beside their new home. The sound of running water sizzling over rocks and the distant caw of an eagle was punctuated by the rhythmic pounding of her lover’s hammer.

She loved watching the play of muscles on his bare back as they flexed and bunched. There was a fine sheathing of sweat glistening on his torso and arms and his dark hair was tied back from his forehead with a red bandanna.

“Want some lemonade?” she asked and when he turned to look down at her, she felt her womb leap in anticipation.

“Aye,” he said and paused in his hammering to swipe an arm under his chin where a bead of sweat was ready to descend.

As she poured him a tall, ice-filled glass of the tangy liquid, he climbed down from the ladder like the lithe animal she thought him. Her hungry gaze followed him down the slight slope to the creek bank, devouring him as he hunkered down beside the flowing water, peeled off the bandana then dredged it through the cold flow to swipe at his heated face. Bent over as he was, the tight muscles of his ass beneath the confines of his faded jeans drew her notice and she licked her lips, her feet moving her closer to him as he dragged the bandana over his chest and under his sweaty arms.

“Stop ogling me, wench,” he said, not looking around. “Your eyes are scorching a hole in my back.”

“Stop teasing me, then,” she said in a breathless voice as she came to stand beside him.

His chest was gleaming from the droplets of water that cascaded through the thick pelt of hair over his pectorals. The waistband of his jeans was wet as he squatted there.

“How am I teasing you?” he asked, craning his head so he could look up at her, squinting in the harsh brightness of the sun.

“You’re practically naked,” she said and let her gaze wander over the striations of his hard muscles--lingering on the bunched chords that banded his arms.

He got slowly to his feet and his hands went to the single button at his waist. With careless ease, he flicked it open, ran down the zipper and then moved back so he could kick off the ragged tennis shoes he wore.

“Where are your socks?” she asked, brow furrowed.

“Same place as my shorts,” he said as he pushed the jeans down to reveal a lack of underwear. “In the hamper back in the cabin.”

She swallowed hard as his heavy cock sprang out of the jeans. It was jutting toward her with intent, the head moistened by a single drop of liquid. When he stepped out of the jeans and stood there in his naked glory, she felt her heart begin to pound, her blood to race, and her palms to sweat.

“You are shameless,” she whispered.

He took the glass of lemonade from her. Tossing his head back, he drained the glass, the sight of his throat working doing wicked things to her libido and when he was finished, he swiped the back of his hand across his wet lips then let the glass fall to the grassy bank.

“Come here, baby,” he said in a husky voice and snaked out an arm to drag her to him.

He was sweaty, but the scent that rose from him was a heady blend of male and sexual need that made her giddy with wants of her own as he plastered her to him. His mouth swooped down to claim hers and his tongue invaded, darting in and out of her mouth in such a way it made her knees weak. She clung to his broad shoulders, lifting a leg to cock it around his lean hip. She heard him laugh deep in his throat and he slipped his hands down to lift her other leg onto him.

Before she could protest, he had walked them down into the chilly stream and she gasped as the cold water touched her rump. Her legs tightened around him as she felt herself falling back into the creek. The water closed over her head for a moment then he pulled her up, standing there amidst the rushing current swirling around them, looking down into her face, his legs planted firmly against the force of the water.

“Have you any notion how much you complete me, Mairi?” he asked.

The long skirt she wore was bunched up along her thighs, her core pressed to the wiry hairs of his groin. She could feel the stiffness of his shaft riding between the clefts of her ass and wiggled against him.

“Have you any notion what you do to me, Wolfman?” she countered.

A slow, evil grin pulled at his lips and he braced her so he could slide a hand between them to push aside the crotch of her panties and slip his hard cock inside her.

“I know what I’m
going
to do,” he said as he thrust his hips forward, driving all the way into her moist heat. With slow pushes he filled her and withdrew. Filled her and withdrew.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulder muscles. She rode him, pushing down as he drove up until the rhythm became frenzied and his hips were like pistons as he pumped into her lush body. His hands were splayed under her rump and he was easily lifting her to rock her up and down on his hard flesh as he thrust against her.

Then she was coming with her head thrown back, her mouth open, eyes squeezed shut, her trill of release loud in the early afternoon. His own climax erupted with a roar as he pulsed into her--once, twice, thrice, a quartet of times. He held her still upon him as one last squirt spilled and he was standing there being buffeting by the water, his panting breaths harsh as he dropped his head to her shoulder.

“I love you,” he told her. “With all my heart.”

“And I love you,” she said, dragging breath into her depleted lungs.

They clung to one another as he eased from inside her then lowered himself into the water so the current was tugging at their waists. He insinuated a hand between her legs to help wash away the juices with which he’d filled her then stood and waded back through the water, climbing the slight incline of the bank and carrying her over to the blanket she’d spread for their noon meal. He lowered her to it and stretched out beside her on his back, his hands under his head as he stared up at the lacy canopy of leaves overhead.

“I could stay here like this forever,” he said, sighing contentedly.

Though her blouse and skirt clung to her, she lay down beside him and nestled against him, allowing the warmth of the sun to begin to dry her clothing. She put her head on his bicep and spiked her fingers through the hair on his chest.

“We are going to be happy here,” she said.

“Aye, we will,” he agreed.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

They both sat up quickly to find Cody Wendt standing a few feet away, a gun leveled at Jamie.

She put out a hand to stop what she knew was coming. Her mouth opened in protest as the word ‘no’ rolled from her tongue on a low, vibrating of distorted sound. She saw Wendt’s finger tighten on the trigger. She heard the unmistakable click. Saw the muzzle flash. Watched the bullet exit the bore in slow motion, tumbling over and over toward her, turning her head ever so slowly as it passed directly in front of her on its trajectory toward Jamie’s heart. Felt the lethal wind of the hollow point’s voyage. Heard Jamie’s oomph of breath as the lead struck his chest. Stared in horror as his eyes widened with pain and a bright red hole appeared. Recognized the sorrow that blossomed in his eyes as he began to fall backwards.