Her Reaper's Arms (24 page)

“Too many’s the time I’ve seen how they are shunned. Got to be a lonely existence for

them.”

“This one’s got a woman,” Penthe said.

“You’re a lucky girl,” the older lady said.

Penthe didn’t correct the misconception.

“Got it!” Eloise said, and gently, slowly and very carefully brought the slug up out

of the wound. “Felt like one of his little critters was helping me push away from his

ticker.” She grinned. “Little bugger was a’ticklin’ my fingers.”

“You touched one of those things?” her husband gasped. “Dear lord, Eloise! Go

wash your hand!”

“Oh hush up, Earl!” Eloise snapped. “I ain’t gonna turn into a she-wolf and bite you

on your scrawny ass tonight!”

Everybody laughed at poor Earl’s expense, the young man’s lean face turning

bright red.

The men returned with a stretcher they’d found in the baggage car and lowered it

down on the floor beside Bevyn.

“Let’s get him up and to bed, men,” Riley said. He helped them lift the unconscious

Reaper onto the canvas sling, being careful to lay Bevyn’s hands over his belly and not

his healing chest, the last bullet hole closing nicely.

“Train’s about to move on out, folks,” the steward came back to tell the passengers.

“Engineer wants to know how our Reaper is.”

“He’ll be all right,” Penthe said.

Lea jumped up from her seat. She was trembling, her face drawn and pale, and her

eyes swollen from crying as the men carried Bevyn down the aisle. “Is he…? She

couldn’t finish.

“He’s okay,” Riley said. “Got all the bullets out.”

“We need to put him to bed,” Penthe stated.

Lea ignored the Amazeen. “Milord?” Lea questioned, twisting her hands in front of

her, aching to touch him.

117

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Can you show us to your compartment, ma’am?” Riley asked. At Lea’s nod, he

indicated with a sweep of his hand that she was to precede him down the corridor. The

others followed them.

Lea opened the door to the compartment and stepped aside. Her anxious eyes were

locked on Bevyn’s still face and tears hovered in her eyes.

“Ease him down, men,” Riley said, taking Bevyn’s feet and helping to swing him

from the stretcher to the bed. “Ma’am, you need to take that shirt off him.”

Lea moved around Riley and wedged herself in between the other two men. She

was grateful the Amazeen hadn’t accompanied them into the compartment. Her eyes

were on Bevyn’s chest and was stunned to see no wounds other than those that had

already been there.

“Looks to me like he’s had a right hard life,” Riley commented. “Somebody ran him

through a gantlet of pain, I’d say.”

“Could you get his boots, please?” Lea asked. “He hates wearing boots.”

“It would be my honor, ma’am,” Riley said, and began tugging on Bevyn’s boots.

“You need anything else, little lady?” one of the two other men in the compartment

asked.

“Some warm water and rags to bathe him and some cool water for him to drink,”

Lea said.

“Consider it done,” the man said, and eased past Riley to leave the room.

“He’s going to need—”

“We’ll give him what he needs,” Riley broke in, and when Lea looked at him, he

smiled. “All he needs.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

“It’s the least we can do, ma’am,” the gambler responded.

For the next half-hour, Lea and Riley saw to the Reaper’s needs, cleaning the

crusted black blood from his sides and back and undressing him so he could rest

comfortably beneath the crisp sheets.

Lea had asked for a chair to place beside the bed and Riley provided it for her,

introducing himself at last as he set the chair down.

“You call me when he wakes up,” the gambler told her then left her alone with

Bevyn.

“Hey, look here,” the man whose wife had fainted called out as Riley came back to

the dining car. “My old lady wants to know if both them women are with the Reaper.”

He grinned nastily. “Got himself a little harem going there?”

Everyone seemed to be listening to the conversation, appeared keenly interested in

the details, and Riley’s voice lowered.

118

Her Reaper’s Arms

“Reapers have only one mate,” Riley replied with a hard stare. “His lordship is with

the pretty young one.

“Well, the way that there warrior woman was putting her hands all over him, we

couldn’t help but wonder if something wasn’t going on there,” the man said with a

wink.

“Could be she’s his partner,” the man’s wife spoke up.

“Reapers don’t have partners,” Riley decreed, “but I reckon she could be working

with him.”

“What I am to him is none of your business.”

Gasps and averted eyes accompanied Riley’s flinch as he turned to see the tall

woman glaring at him. He put a finger to his temple.

“No, ma’am, it surely ain’t,” he agreed, and righted a chair to sit down.

The Reaper’s body temperature seemed higher than normal to Lea but she

supposed that was because of the gunshots. He was sweating lightly and she kept

rinsing out a cloth, wiping his face and across his shoulders, down his arms—being

very careful of his chest although not one sign of a bullet wound could be seen—as she

tried to cool him. She smoothed his hair back and hummed quietly to him as she held

his hand and stroked his long fingers. From time to time he would stir as though trying

to wake but would lie still again, his chest moving gently up and down, his lips parted.

Lea didn’t need to turn around to know who had come to stand at the compartment

door. “He is still sleeping,” she said.

“I don’t like that,” Penthe declared as she came on into the compartment.

“Thank you for killing the bastard who did this to him,” Lea said. “I only wish I

could have had the son of a bitch to myself for a few days.”

“And done what exactly?” Penthe said with a snort.

“I’d have made him rue the day he ever hurt Bevyn Coure,” Lea said, and met the

Amazeen’s eyes directly. “If I had your ancestor here, I would tear her to shreds for

what she did to him.”

Penthe arched a thick brown brow. “I believe you mean that, wench.”

“You can take it to the bank, Amazeen. I’m not what you think I am,” Lea said.

“And when it comes to this man, I can be a cold-hearted bitch.”

The Blackwind leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her impressive

bosom. “And here I thought Terran women were sissies.”

“Aye, well, the female of my species is meaner and deadlier than the male when it

comes to protecting our loved ones,” Lea remarked. “Ask any Native Terran

warrioress.”

“He’s a man well worth protecting,” Penthe said.

“And he is mine.”

119

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Penthe inclined her head. “Aye, wench, I know that.” She stared hard at Lea. “I

might not like it, might wish it were otherwise, but I will respect it.”

“Then we understand one another,” Lea said, not giving an inch.

“It would seem so,” Penthe said. She straightened up. “Be sure to call me when he

wakes so I may help feed him. He will need it.”

“I told Riley I’d call
him
and I will,” Lea said, and she turned her head away.

“You would not allow me to feed him from my veins?” Penthe asked quietly.

“Not in a million fucking years,” Lea stated.

“It would be an honor for me,” Penthe said.

“Not going to happen.”

“I protected his back today. I—”

“And you have my thanks,” Lea said, and looked around, her face hard. “You have

his thanks.”

The Blackwind narrowed her eyes. “You are a liability to him,” she said. “Had you

not been there today, he would never have given his gun to the thief.” She went to the

door then turned to give Lea one last hateful look. “You think on that, bitch.”

When the Amazeen left, Lea continued to sit beside Bevyn, gently stroking his

hand. She bathed his face and arms and chest again, growing more concerned at the

heat radiating from his body. He stirred now and again, his head thrashing slowly on

the pillow as though he were striving to wake from whatever hellish place in which he

dwelt. He mumbled but as day moved into night, he had still not awakened.

Riley stopped by the compartment not long after the sun had set. He rapped gently

on the open door for Lea had her head down on the edge of the mattress. When she

lifted her head and looked around at him, he smiled.

“How ’bout letting me watch him for a while?” the gambler asked. “You need to

take a rest and eat something. They’ve got fried chicken in the dining car.”

Lea shook her head. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“Okay,” Riley said. “Can I bring you a tray then?”

Her stomach growled at the suggestion. “That would be nice, Riley. Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back then.”

Lea sighed and looked back around, stunned to see Bevyn’s eyes open and looking

into hers.

“Another conquest, milady?” he asked.

She got out of the chair and sat down gingerly on the mattress beside him. “How do

you feel?” she asked, stroking his hair back from his forehead.

“Like I got kicked in the chest by a mule,” he said. “What happened?”

120

Her Reaper’s Arms

“You don’t remember?” she asked, her brows drawing together. She didn’t like

how hot his flesh had become and reached over to take the cloth out of the water to

wash his face again.

“Was there a robbery?” he asked. He put a hand to his head.

“There was an attempted robbery,” she reminded him. “You and the woman giant

stopped it.”

“Was anyone hurt?” he asked as he rubbed his forehead.

“You and the warrioress killed the five in the dining car but three got away,” she

said. She pushed his hand aside and ran the rag over his face and down his neck.

Bevyn’s hand fell to his side as though it had been a real effort to hold it up.

“They’ll have to be found and brought to justice,” he said.

“That will have to wait,” she said.

“Is Penthe all right?” He shifted on the bed, sweat pouring out of his pores.

“The walking mountain is doing just fine,” Lea said from between clenched teeth.

“Go get her for me,” he asked. He was breathing heavily.

“Bevyn—”

“Now, wench!” he said, eyes flashing. “Go get her for me now!”

Lea took one look at the red glints in the depths of his eyes and shot off the bed. She

had some idea what was happening and ran as fast as she could toward the dining car,

figuring that was where the Blackwind would be. As soon as she saw her, she yelled at

her that the Reaper needed her.

Penthe paused with a glass almost to her lips. “What’s wrong?”

“I think he’s about to Transition!” Lea said, trembling violently from head to toe.

“Oh hell!” Penthe hissed, and slammed her glass down on the table, shoved her

chair back and practically flew past Lea.

Everyone sitting in the dining car turned pale. Lea barely felt Riley taking her arm

to seat her at his table. She looked up at him with dazed eyes.

“Here,” Riley said, pressing a glass of water into her hand. “Drink.”

Penthe almost missed the door to the Reaper’s compartment and had to snake out a

hand to grab the doorjamb to halt her mad rush. She stepped back and as soon as she

saw the naked Reaper on all fours in the center of the bed, his head swinging from side

to side as he panted, she felt her insides turn to water.

“Lock. Me. In,” he managed to say, his back arching.

The sounds coming from the Reaper’s body sent chills down Penthe’s body but she

didn’t question his command. She jerked the door closed and held the handle, bracing

her feet on the opposite jambs as she held it, shouting for the conductor to bring his key.

Hurrying toward her, the conductor’s hand was trembling so badly he dropped his set

121

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

of keys and had to stoop down to snatch it up, whimpering as he poked unsuccessfully

at the lock trying to get the key in.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Penthe yelled at the poor man.

Something hit the door hard and it rattled in the frame. Although the Amazeen had

her full weight behind holding it shut as the conductor struggled to lock it, the portal

gave just a little and she had to strain to pull it closed again.

“Damn it, man!” the Blackwind hissed. “Lock the damned thing!”

Snarls came from behind the door as the conductor managed to turn the key and

lock the portal. Vicious scraping sounds down the wood made the hair stand up on the

little man’s head. Growls and chuffing noises echoed from the room as things began

hitting the door.

Despite knowing the door was locked, Penthe continued pulling on the handle, her

booted feet braced halfway up the doorjambs as she put her weight behind holding the

handle.

Total destruction was going on inside the Reaper’s compartment. He was howling

fiercely and pounding on the door.

“What should we do?” the conductor asked, his face as white as parchment.

“If he breaks the window, he’ll…”

At that moment the sound of glass shattering and a triumphant howl told the

Amazeen the Reaper had leapt from the compartment. She let go of the door and ran

back through the sleeper car, the dining car—barely noting the looks of horror on the

passengers’ faces—and sprinted through the social car and out to the observation car. In