My Reaper's Daughter (36 page)

and hold on as the animal plunged into the rain.

By the time he reached Phelan’s house, he was completely paralyzed again. He had

slid off the mount and onto his back, the rain slamming into his opened eyes for he

could not close them.

“
Sleep.”

The command had come from far away but slithered through his brain and his eyes

had closed.

He remembered nothing else until he awoke in the tub of cold water, Mystery’s

worried face before him. Since that time, he’d kept her in his sight as well as he could.

Just looking at her face gave him a small amount of relief from the ungodly pain in

which he was steeped.

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“I’m here, my beloved,” Mystery told him as she wrung out the cloth and folded it,

laid it on his forehead. Her fingers trailed down his hot cheek. “You’re going to be all

right.”

He felt his body jerk as though he’d been prodded.

“Glyn?” Mystery questioned. She’d been sitting on the bed beside him and now she

was on her feet, her eyes filled with worry.

He jerked again and then he stiffened, his head going back—neck and chest arching

upward—as he began to shake violently.

And he began to hallucinate.

They were all around him—ghorets of every size from hatchling to full-grown

silver and green vipers. Their mouths opened and closed to reveal vicious fangs

dripping with fluorescent blue venom. They sprang at him to bury those deadly fangs

into his thighs, his arms and his chest. Where the venom struck, his flesh bubbled and

blackened, broke open to reveal sickeningly green boils pulsing with alien life. A

horrible stench rose up to choke him and the taste of it seemed to fill his gaping mouth.

When he tried to run, the three-foot-long adult serpents wound around his ankles to

lash his legs together and bring him down. He fell into the writhing, slithering,

undulating mass of slick bodies that whipped at his face with forked tails. They coiled

around his wrists to pin him to the ground.

“Glyn, hold on,” he heard someone say from a great distance. “This will pass.”

He struggled to free himself, to cast off the wriggling vipers, screeching like a

madman, though no sound seemed willing to escape his throat. His flesh crawled as the

slimy scales dragged over it, and where those scales touched, the skin on his bones

bubbled with noxious eruptions. The pain was horrendous and was driving him insane

with the burning, itching, stinging agony.

“I know, Glyn,” that sweet, gentle voice said, and a cool hand smoothed over his

brow. “I know.”

He could feel the flesh at his wrists and ankles breaking open as he strove to break

free. The smell of his own black blood filled his nostrils and he howled in agitation,

enraged that he was restrained and being made to endure such torment. Savagely he

twisted his body from side to side and bucked—his hips leaving the mattress, his

struggles causing the bed to jump upon the floor. Beneath his head, the pillow was

saturated with sour sweat and the smell made worse the nausea bubbling up his throat.

For over an hour he silently raged against his bonds—the only sounds coming from

him grunts and hisses and gasps for he was incapable of speech. His eyes were wide,

unblinking, and his lips were peeled back from his tightly clenched teeth, the snarl

frozen on his face.

Her beautiful face moved into his line of vision and he saw tears streaking down

that lovely countenance, understood the pain in the worried black eyes. He ached to put

his arms around her and comfort her but the vipers had him shackled so that all he

could do was hiss like them. He writhed on the bed as they slithered all around him.

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They were crawling up the walls and across the ceiling and dropping down on his chest

in handfuls of squiggling, squirming mustiness. They struck out at him and drove their

fangs deep.

“Hold on, my love. Just hold on.”

From out of the nightmare of his world he saw something moving in the deeper

shadows and instinct warned him whatever It was, It was much worse than the ghorets

that were making a meal of him. The stench of Its coming was unbearable and the

feeling that was slowly flowing over him was one of absolute dread. His skin became

clammy and his heart began to race. This new threat was worse than any he’d ever

experienced and It was moving with slow, steady, unimpeded energy right toward him.

He fought against this latest peril, this overpowering menace, but try as hard as he

might, he could not keep It at bay. He could not hold It back nor turn It away. It moved

like an unstoppable wave—building in strength and sweeping all obstacles from Its

path as It moved without any barriers to slow down Its approach.

He knew whatever this new danger was, It was much worse than anything he or his

fellow Reapers had ever encountered and he knew It was moving into his part of the

megaverse, into his dimension because he was too weak to fight It.

“No!” he pleaded with the gods, begging Them not to allow whatever malevolent

force was gathering into his world but still It came—unstoppable, unbeatable,

unrelenting.

For another hour he fought the steady approach of that brutal evil but in the end he

lost his battle. The blackness of It, the wrath of It moved over him like a massive

boulder—squeezing the air from his lungs and nearly crushing the life from him. It

rolled up until It found a large basin of brackish water and there It entered the stagnant

pond and sank beneath the oily waves.

Utter despair filled the Reaper, but with the hopelessness he felt at having lost his

battle with whatever wickedness had arrived on Terra, insight came with that

depression. He understood things that had eluded them all.

His thrashing began to wind down until he was doing little more than making

small keening sounds deep in his throat and quivering from time to time. He was

grateful for the cool cloth she passed over his body. It helped the pain and the heat that

felt as though it were baking him from the inside out. When he could finally blink, close

his eyes, he lay listening to the thunder of his heart, the ragged rasp of his breathing,

and at last managed to swallow.

She put her hand under his neck and lifted his head. “Drink.”

The water pressed against his lips and he opened them, let the cooling liquid flow

down his throat, gulping as quickly as he could, not even noticing the wetness

overflowing his mouth and dripping down his neck.

“Not too much.”

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She took the blessed water away and he groaned, wanting more, needing more,

able at last to lick his swollen tongue across his parched lips. When she lowered his

head and removed her hand, he moaned, wanting that contact, needing it.

“You’re not going to like this but Aunt Bernice says you need it.”

He felt her fingers on his mouth and opened his lips obediently, not realizing until

it was too late that she was putting harsh, stinging salt crystals on his tongue. She was

right—he didn’t like it—and he tried to spit it out, but she braced his chin in her hand

and would not allow him to do so.

“You must swallow it, Glyn. You have to.”

As weak as he was, he could not shake off her hand. The salt had dissolved and

mixed with his saliva and was trickling down his throat. He grimaced.

Then he lost the inability to move and shot up from the bed, twisting violently to

the side as wave after wave of pure hell erupted from the very core of him, and with it,

the remnants of whatever sinister potion had held him in thrall.

* * * * *

“How’s he doing?” Phelan asked softly.

“He’s sleeping, thank Alel,” Mystery whispered, and motioned the Reaper from

Glyn’s room.

“When I emptied that chamber pot,” Phelan told her, “where it landed on the

ground, the grass immediately withered and died. I’ve a notion I’ll have to replant, if

anything will grow there at all.”

“It was vile,” Kasid agreed as he handed Mystery a cup of tea. “I thought you could

use this, milady.”

“Thank you, Lord Kasid. I surely can.”

“It is just Kasid,” the Reaper said with a gentle smile.

Mystery curled up on the sofa and released a long breath. “He should sleep for a

while.”

“And be a very unhappy Reaper when he wakes,” Phelan prophesied. He stretched

out his long legs as he reclined in his favorite chair. “He’s going to want to go with us to

question the foreman.”

“He’s too weak,” Mystery said. “Perhaps you shouldn’t even let him know what

you’re planning.”

“You’ve got a point, milady.”

“The salt will have dredged the poisons from his system but until the bokor is dead,

Glyn will be susceptible to his influence. I agree we should not take him with us,” Kasid

reminded them. “The sooner we find this Papa Croisement and eliminate him, the

better from Glyn.”

“Croisement,” Mystery repeated. “That means crossroads in the native patois.”

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“Does that have special meaning?” Kasid inquired.

Mystery shrugged as she took a sip of the hot tea. “Only in that such places are

considered abodes of the more powerful loa or spirits. When a bad person dies, he or

she is buried at a crossroads with the head removed so they won’t know which way to

go should they ever be resurrected.”

Phelan started to speak then held up his hand.

They heard Glyn mumbling and both Kasid and Mystery started to get up but

Phelan motioned them to stay seated. “I’ll check on him.”

Glyn was tossing and turning in the bed, the sheets kicked partway down his body,

but he was clutching handfuls of the linen tightly in his fists. His chest was gleaming

with sweat again and he was pivoting his head back and forth on the pillow as he

kicked out with his feet.

“Easy, brother,” Phelan said as he sat down on the bed and put a restraining hand

on his fellow Reaper’s shoulder. “Everything’s all right now.”

Glyn opened his eyes and stared at Phelan then shot out a hand to grip Kiel’s arm.

“The gods forgive me, Phelan. I brought Him through the Veil. He’s here. He’s on

Terra!”

“Who?” Phelan asked, frowning. “Who are you talking about?”

“He was trying to find the weakest link,” Glyn said, his voice hoarse, grating. “Not

even His minion knew what He was about.”

“I’m not understanding you, Glyn,” Phelan responded. “I…”

“He tested each of us, Phelan!” Glyn insisted, his eyes wide. His grip on Kiel’s arm

was punishing. “He tried with each of us but I was the weakest. I’m the one who’s set

him loose on us!”

It took all of Phelan’s strength to pry Glyn’s hand from his arm, wincing at the

painful bruise that was already on his flesh. Though the wound wouldn’t be there long,

it hurt nevertheless.

“You’re not making any sense, Kullen,” he said sternly.

“He’s out there, Phelan!” Glyn choked out. “I made it so He could come into this

dimension. He’s in the water. He’s in the…”

“Calm down before your temp goes up again,” Phelan warned. He forced Glyn’s

arm to the mattress and caught his other when the Reaper would have pushed him

away. “Calm down, damn it, and make some sense with what you’re trying to tell me!

Who are you talking about? Raphian?”

Glyn’s head swung angrily from side to side. “No, not
Him
! I don’t know who this

one is but He’s evil, Phelan. He’s far more evil than Raphian will ever be and He’s loose

on this world! Because of me. Because of
me
!”

Kasid came into the room at that moment. He put a hand on the headboard and

leaned over Glyn. “Is this entity the one who has been attacking us, Glyn? Is He the one

making it impossible for you and Phelan to contact the Shadowlords?”

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“Aye,” Glyn hissed. His agitated gaze leapt to Kasid. “Aye, Kasid, and He is the one

who went after Arawn and the others. I sensed He was trying to neutralize them but

couldn’t maintain control because they were so far away.”

“Then why not me? Why am I able to maintain contact with the Citadel?”

“Because He thinks you are one of us,” Mystery said from the doorway. “He

believes you are a man of color so he’s left you alone.”

The Reaper looked around at her. “But I am not.”

“He believes you are,” she insisted. “So you are safe from His attack.”

“She’s probably right,” Phelan agreed.

Glyn settled down, his muscles going lax so Phelan released him. “I was the

weakest link,” he said gruffly. “I let this happen.”

“As if you could have stopped it considering the condition you were in,” Phelan

scoffed. “Get real, Reaper.”

“We have to find Him, Phelan,” Glyn stated. “I’ve a feeling He’s going to wreak hell

on Terra.”

“We will, but first we’re going to find who did this shit to you then we’re going to

put
him
down. Permanently!” Kiel insisted.

Glyn started to throw the covers back but Phelan stopped him. “You aren’t going

anywhere today so get that right out of your feeble mind, Kullen.” He tucked the sheets

around Glyn’s waist. “What you need to do is rest and get your strength back.”