My Reaper's Daughter (37 page)

“I’m well enough,” Glyn protested.

“Like hell you are. You’d be a liability to us and right now I don’t think we need to

take any chances that the bokor will latch on to you again.”

“But…”

“And turn you against us,” Kasid stated.

Glyn slumped down in the bed, no doubt realizing the truth in that statement. “So

what are you going to do?”

“We’re going to question the foreman and see what he knows.”

Glyn nodded. “He tried that zombie shit on me first and it didn’t work.”

“It wouldn’t have,” Kasid said. “He is not the bokor.”

“I know. I saw that one but I can’t tell you what he looks like. I never saw his face.”

“What can you tell us of him?” Phelan asked.

“Tall, big like an oak tree,” Glyn said. “Much bigger than the foreman and dark,

very dark. His flesh was so black it glistened.” He gave Phelan a worried look. “Be

careful, Phelan. This one is dangerous. He isn’t what he seems. He came to me as a little

girl and I fell for his trap.”

“We won’t,” Phelan declared. “Now rest and don’t leave this bed until we get back.

You hear me?”

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“Aye.”

Mystery stepped aside as Phelan and Kasid left the bedroom. She cast Glyn a quick

look then followed the men. “There are precautions you should make,” she told them.

“What kind of precautions?” Phelan asked.

“Do you have any cotton swabs or small pieces of cloth with which you can plug

your nostrils?”

Phelan blinked. “Why would we want to, milady?”

“To keep from breathing in any powder or fumes the bokor may direct at you,” she

answered. “If you get it in your mouth, you can spit it out but if you breathe that stuff

into your lungs, you’re infected with it.”

“I see the wisdom in that,” Kasid said. “I have cotton batting I use to clean my

weapon. I’ll get it.”

“And you will need this,” Mystery said, reaching up to her neck to undo a necklace.

She brought it to him. “Aunt Zettie gave it to me when she was dying. She said I would

know who to give it to when the time came and I believe that is you.”

Phelan looked down at the small medallion—the Sign of the Slain One—and leaned

forward for her to put it around his neck. “I have heard there is great power in this

symbol,” he said.

“There is.”

Kasid came back with four small pieces of batting and handed two of them to

Phelan. He asked what it was that Mystery had clasped around his partner’s neck.

When she told him and then said she was sorry she didn’t have one for him, he

shrugged.

“I would not have worn it anyway. That religion is not mine.” He reached inside his

black shirt and pulled out a medallion he always wore. He fingered the crescent moon

and star. “This is the symbol of my faith.”

“Anything else you believe we need, milady?” Phelan inquired, tucking the crucifix

into the collar of his shirt.

“Nothing I can think of,” she replied. “Just be careful and come back soon.” She

glanced at the bedroom. “If you don’t, he’s liable to come looking for you.”

“He…” Phelan began, but an unexpected voice in his ear made him jump.

“Lord Kasid?”
It was Lord Naois hailing Jaborn.

“I heard that!” Phelan said. “I can hear you, Your Grace!”

“Then the medallion worked its magic against the evil surrounding you,” Kasid

observed.

“It is good you can hear us now, Lord Phelan. How is Lord Glyn?”

“Better,” Phelan reported. “In all the excitement of his illness I forgot to have Kasid

call on you to get a sample of his blood. We…”

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“That was done earlier—actually on all three of you to be on the safe side—and we know

precisely which ingredients are in the powder that infected Lord Glyn.”
There was a slight

pause
. “The problem is we can find no antidote for the poison used to turn him. We are still

working on it though.”

“What does the goddess say regarding it?” Kasid inquired.

The sound of a mental snort drifted down to Kasid and Phelan.
“Once again, She is

not in attendance and does not answer our summons. We are fearful something very bad is

happening to claim Her attention.”

“Glyn believes he brought something over into our dimension that is much worse

than Raphian,” Kasid said. “Perhaps that is what has Her occupied.”

“Very possible. We won’t know until She finally answers our call.”

“We’re on our way to find the bokor who attacked Glyn. We’ll keep you informed

of what we learn,” Phelan put in.

“Go raibh an choir Ghaoithe I gcónai leat,”
Lord Naois said, giving the blessing of

the Wind being at the Reapers’ backs.

“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ve a feeling we’re going to need it,” Phelan mumbled.

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Chapter Seventeen

The Reapers weren’t prepared for what they encountered at the crossroads.

Standing right smack dab in the middle of where the muddy lanes intersected, blocking

their path, were four of the ugliest, most brutish and dangerous-looking bastards the

lawmen had seen in a long time. With bare forearms resembling gnarled tree limbs and

hands that were doubled into oversized meaty fists, the men of color made an effective

roadblock.

But the one thing that caught Phelan and Kasid’s immediate attention was the fact

the men had no pupils. All that could be seen in the dark, dark faces were the whites of

their wide-open eyes.

“Ah, that just ain’t right,” Phelan muttered. He shuddered. “Them are some ugly

ass bastards.”

“Do you smell the corruption?” Kasid asked, barely controlling the animal beneath

him for the beast had caught the whiff of the grave. “I am not detecting life in any of

them.”

“Neither am I so I suggest we stick the batting up our noses now,” Phelan replied,

reaching into the pocket of his slicker. “If we want to get rid of these pricks, it ain’t

gonna be with bullets.”

“I agree,” Kasid said.

“Take their heads then burn ’em to a crisp, Jaborn,” Phelan growled, his voice

sounding strangely hollow with his nostrils blocked.

The two Reapers dismounted, peeled off their slickers and hung them over the

saddles—the better to wield the laser whips that lay strapped to their left thighs. Upon

drawing the dragon handle from their sheaths, twin tails of fire shot from the business

end of the whips and flickered in the rain.

“You take ugly ass one and two on the left and I’ll get revolting shits three and four

on the right,” Phelan quipped, and laid out the hissing tail in front of him before

snapping it back over his shoulder. With a roar, he ran at the two who were lumbering

toward him, flicking the whip with a twist of his wrist.

The fiery train of Kiel’s whip sliced clean through the first zombie’s neck and its

head went rolling. Pulling back on the sizzling extension, he flicked it forward again to

dispatch the second zombie as Jaborn lopped the heads from the two staggering,

lurching dead men who had been ambling toward him. By retracting the tail of the

whip and using the incineration button they rarely had to employ, the Reapers

concentrated scorching blasts at the bodies, rendering them to ash.

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As the rain fell in a hiss around them, the lawmen looked about them. They were

alone at the crossroads but that aloneness didn’t feel right.

“It can’t be that easy,” Phelan remarked.

From out of the woods, a small army of sightless, stiff-legged, stumbling zombies

began to emerge. The only difference between the newcomers and the ones already

destroyed were the snapping jaws of the new threat. Teeth grinding and clicking, the

dead men came shambling toward them.

Phelan sighed.

“What if they bite us?” Kasid inquired, bracing himself to take on these latest foes.

“Well, shit, Jaborn. Do I have to lead you by the fucking hand? Bite them back!”

Phelan replied.

* * * * *

Mystery smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around her. “You should be in bed,”

she reminded him even as she laid her head on his bare chest.

“I got tired of lying there.” He looked past her out the window at the gray, rainy

day. “And I am beginning to feel waterlogged, you know?”

She laughed. “Yes, I do, and I’m sure the parents on the plantation wish we’d start

the school up again. It’s hard for them to work with the little ones at home with an

older brother or sister or elderly neighbor.”

“Will there be someone for Valli to play with?” he asked.

“My brother has four little girls and I’ll bet you right now they are all giggling and

driving my sister-in-law quietly insane.”

Glyn’s arms tightened around her. “Have you thought about what it will be like

having a brother for her?” He ran his palm over her flat belly.

“Things have happened so quickly that I haven’t,” she replied. “I wanted to tell my

brother about our Joining but since you asked me not to, I held my tongue. More than

anything, I wanted to tell Valda.”

“She’ll make a good big sister to him,” he commented. “He’s going to need that

calming influence.”

Laughing at her daughter being considered a calming influence on anyone, Mystery

turned in his arms and looked up into his handsome face. He seemed so pale to her and

she put a hand to his cheek, hoping she would not feel heat and was relieved that his

high temperature was down.

“You’re sure it will be a boy?” she queried.

He nodded solemnly. “It will always be a boy, Myst. Reapers can only have males.”

He explained to her how his hellion would destroy any female zygotes in her

womb.

“So we will have sons,” she said, accepting the situation.

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“And I have a name picked for our firstborn,” Glyn said, and swiveled his leatherclad hips against hers.

She arched a brow. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Aeryn,” he said softly. “It means peace and that is what you’ve given to me.”

Mystery’s eyes welled with tears. “Then Aeryn it will be. Aeryn Kullen. I like the

sound of it.”

“Aeryn Owen Kullen,” he suggested.

“Ah no,” she said. “His initials would be A.O.K. He’d have to fight every day of his

life with a moniker like that.”

“Owen Aeryn Kullen then, but we’d call him Aeryn,” he said. “That way he’d be a

mighty O.A.K. and no one would dare slam a fist against an oak.”

She grinned at his manly assertion. “Lord Owen is your best friend, isn’t he?” she

asked.

“Aye and it means a lot to me to honor that friendship,” he replied.

“I am sure he will be pleased.”

“I wish I could speak to Lord Kheelan and see how he’s doing. Too bad you don’t

have another of those medallions like the one you gave Phelan.”

“When you are feeling strong, we can ride to Sagewood. I’m sure we can find one

among my brothers and their wives.”

“I should be with Phelan and Kasid,” he said, tucking his chin atop her head.

“You are right where you are meant to be,” she said, sensing his weakness though

not wanting to call attention to it.

But Glyn didn’t feel that way. He was antsy and his nerves rubbed raw. Though he

knew his teammates could look after themselves, he was anxious, edgy not riding with

them into what he knew was a dangerous situation.

“They’ll be careful,” she told him.

“By the goddess, I hope so,” he said, and closed his eyes to say a prayer for the

Reapers’ safety.

* * * * *

Anthony Simmons threw the empty brandy snifter across the room, getting some

small measure of satisfaction from hearing the delicate crystal shatter against the wall.

He was incensed that Mystery was at Kiel’s house, tending the ailing Kullen, and his

lips were skinned back from teeth that were being gnashed in anger. His gray eyes were

narrowed into thin slits of menace as he glared at his foreman.

“You are all but useless, Dirk!” Simmons threw at the burley man.

“My Master has things under control,” John Dirk stated. “The Reaper belongs to

him.”

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“Right now, the Reaper belongs to the bokor and
his
master!” Simmons shouted.

“Or have you forgotten that?”

“My Master is stronger. He but bides His time in the matter.”

Simmons let out a stream of vicious curses and plopped down behind his desk,

kicking over the wastebasket that sat beside it. “I wanted Kullen out of the way, out of

Mystery’s life, not lying in a bed for her to comfort!”

“Have faith that my Master will punish the Reaper and hand into your keeping the

female—if that is your desire,” John Dirk told him.

“He’d damned well better give me what I desire!” Simmons said, and outside a

loud shriek of lightning split the heavens and the house shook, the windows rattling as

though they would implode at any moment.

“Be careful what you say!” the foreman gasped, his face ashen. “Lord Raphian does

not allow insults!”

Simmons waved a dismissive hand. “Mystery had best be in my hands before the

end of the day as you promised, or I just might be forced to take a ride over to Burnt

Pine and consult with Papa Croisement. At least
he
gets things done! That tells me who