Shades of the Wind (21 page)

from her drinking his blood as he did from taking her life essence. The sweetness

lingered on his tongue and flowed through his body like nectar. It sang in his soul. It

warmed his cold heart.

When she had taken as much as he dared allow her, he eased her lips from his flesh

and looked down into her flushed face. Her pupils were dilated as though she’d

partaken of a strong, intoxicating drug—and in part, she had. There was a crimson

droplet upon her lush bottom lip and he lowered his head to flick his tongue across the

smoothness.

“I feel strange,” she whispered.

Khenty nodded. “I know.” He bent and lifted her into his arms to carry her to the

bed.

“Why is my head spinning?” she asked.

“I have now brought you fully into my world, my love. The Ritual is complete,” he

said softly as he sat down beside her. He put his fingertips over her eyes. “You must

sleep now.”

Catherine felt as though a warm, numbing blanket had been laid upon her senses.

She was tired—infinitely so—and her world was reeling. Khenty’s fingers were cool on

her closed lids.

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“Sleep,” she heard her husband command, and allowed the darkness to enfold her

in gentle arms.

For a long while Khenty sat beside her until he was sure she was fast asleep.

Leaning over, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead then stood.

Padding to the door, he opened it and looked down—knowing full well what he’d

find. A small smile tugged at his lips as he bent over to retrieve the neatly folded

garments lying on the floor. Dressing quickly in the soft black shirt and pants, he left

the bedchamber, quietly closing the door behind him.

There was a debt he needed to repay.

* * * * *

Rhada was standing at the hearth, staring down into the leaping flames. He glanced

around as Khenty came into the room. “Your lady is resting?” he asked.

“I brought her into my world,” Khenty replied, and saw his host nod in

understanding.

“My lady has never forgiven me for bringing her into mine,” Rhada said, “and

never allows me to forget it.”

“How is ‘Mena?” Khenty asked.

Rhada frowned. “Sticking her hairpins into the eyes of her enemies on Oceania if I

know her,” he replied in a droll voice.

Khenty reached up to rub his hooked index finger along the bridge of his nose. “I’d

heard she has a temper.”

“Temper?” Rhada echoed. “Rage is a closer description, Ben-Alkazar.”

The two psychopomps were silent for a moment then Rhada turned to offer Khenty

a seat. Once they were comfortable, the Oceanian prince heaved a tired sigh.

“I am at my wit’s end with the vrykolakas ravaging my people,” Rhada said.

“How many have died?”

“Ten that we know of,” Rhada replied. “There may be more.”

Khenty dusted a speck of lint from his pant leg. “If I remember my Oceanian

history, when the vrykolakas is destroyed, those it created in its likeness will cease to

exist.”

“That is so.”

“Have you any idea where I should start looking for it?”

“I have been searching for her during the daylight hours but so far have found no

trace of her whereabouts. I strongly suspect she’s slipped over the border into Xolotl’s

realm.”

“It’s a she?” Khenty asked, his brows arched.

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“A jilted woman who sold her soul to gain revenge on the man who wronged her,”

Rhada said. “The trouble is, after she murdered him, she liked it so much she went after

others she thought had caused her problems in this life.” He glanced at Khenty. “The

telling word there is thought.”

“She’s killed the innocent.”

“Aye, she has. One was a mere child of seven.”

Khenty—distressed at hearing that—sighed deeply. “I’ll take care of it for you.”

Stretching out his leg, Rhada fished in his pocket and brought out a scrap of

material. “This was worn by the vrykolakas.” He leaned over to give the piece of cloth

to Khenty.

Khenty brought the frayed fabric to his nose and the scent from him made him ill.

He lowered it. “Hers is a vile odor,” he commented.

“She was a vile woman,” Rhada said. “That was why her man left her in the first

place. I am in your debt for helping to rid us of her presence.”

“There is no debt,” Khenty said, getting to his feet. “You took care of my lady.

Consider the debt paid.”

“I am grateful and I apologize for bringing you into this. If I were on good terms

with Xolotl, I’d have gone to see him about this since he has powers similar to your

own,” Rhada said.

“Xolotl isn’t on good terms with anyone,” Khenty said, “but he’ll not quarrel with

me. The last time we scuffled, I took off part of his right ear.” He grinned. “He returned

the favor by giving me a bad case of fleas.”

“Be careful, Ben-Alkazar,” Rhada said. “He’s a sneaky son of a bitch.”

“We both are. Just watch over Catherine until I return,” Khenty said as he walked

toward the door. He stopped and looked around. “By the way, I stopped by your

kitchen to provide for my lady if I am not back when she wakes. Will you see to her

comfort?”

“You have my word,” Rhada pledged.

It was raining hard when Khenty went out onto the steps of Ocaleae. He waited

until the servants had shut the door behind him before stripping off his borrowed

clothing. Folding them neatly, he laid them next to the door then walked out into the

night. As he neared the gatehouse he was canine form, barking to the guards to allow

him exit. When the heavy gate was open, he loped off into the darkness.

Running with the wind against his muzzle and the rain pelting his back, he raced

up the mountainside and toward Mount Inferno, the land ruled by the Diabolusian

psychopomp Xolotl. Now and again, he stopped, threw back his head and let out a

warning howl to let his counterpart know he was not the one Khenty was seeking.

It was the rattling of bones that brought Khenty to a skidding stop. He swung his

head around to view the animal coming toward him. Sitting down on his haunches to

wait, he panted, his sides heaving, his tongue lolling out.

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The entity who sidled up to Khenty was as thin and cadaverous as any mangy dog

to be found in the poorest parts of Diabolusia. Its flesh was taut to its rib cage and the

bony legs were spindly, the feet oddly pointed backward. One ear was missing a large

portion of cartilage. When it opened its mouth, it made a mewling sound.

“The Oceanian sent me in search of a marauder,” Khenty said, taking his human

form. He sat with his naked legs drawn up into the circumference of his arms.

Xolotl whined then changed into a pathetically thin man—more skeleton than

anything else. His face was so drawn it was a chore to look upon him but it was the club

feet upon which he stood that bothered Khenty most of all and he tried not to stare at

the huge penis that hung between the psychopomp’s thin legs.

“What kind of marauder?” the Diabolusian asked, scratching his sparse chest hair.

“A vrykolakas,” Khenty replied. “A vampire.”

“Distasteful things,” Xolotl said with a sniff. “Why come here looking for it?”

“Rhada believes it to be hiding here.” He turned his head, chin raised, nostrils

flexing. “I sense it close by.”

“Is that the stench I caught a whiff of?” Xolotl smirked. “And here I thought it was

you.”

Khenty grunted at the insult.

“Why didn’t the Oceanian prick come do his own hunting?” the Diabolusian

queried.

“Would you have let him?”

Xolotl dug at his scalp for a moment before answering. “Most likely not, but he

could have had the courtesy to ask.”

“Coming here wouldn’t have done him any good,” Khenty said. “His powers are

no good after the sun sets.”

“Damned raptor has no powers to speak of anyway. So he can fly. So what? So can

a gnat,” the Diabolusian growled. He scratched at his hip. “I hate gnats almost as much

as I hate birds.”

Khenty almost smiled. “Could that be because your twin brother is half avian?”

“He’s more snake than bird,” Xolotl said with a snort. “I hate snakes too.”

“Thus you hate Quetz,” Khenty surmised.

“Never said I didn’t,” the psychopomp replied. He watched Khenty for a moment.

“I hear congratulations are in order. You took yourself a bitch.”

Khenty grimaced at the word but he knew the other psychopomp didn’t mean it as

an insult. “I Joined legally with her,” he mumbled.

“Joining,” the Diabolusian said with a shake of his shaggy head. “Unnecessary

bondage if you ask me. Now you’re stuck with her.”

“It’s a sticking with which I am well pleased,” Khenty told him.

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“I prefer fucking them, getting them with pups then leaving their ass, but that’s just

me. Well, here’s to healthy litters, Ben-Alkazar,” Xolotl said. He shifted into his canine

form, used his misshapen left rear leg to scratch at his belly for a moment then turned

and ambled off into the rain.

Khenty watched the Diabolusian until he disappeared then changed his own shape.

He shook his fur voraciously—hoping he hadn’t picked up any of the Diabolusian’s

copious fleas. He knew Xolotl would leave him be. They weren’t friends but neither

were they really enemies. They had an understanding between them few others would

understand. With both of them having their canine abilities in common, it made for a

fairly calm relationship. Now and again, they might fight but it was never serious,

never meant to do real harm to one another. Had the Diabolusian been concerned about

Khenty’s presence on Mount Inferno, his hackles would have been up and he would

have bared his fangs. As it was, the scruffy mutt had gone on his way without a

challenge just as Khenty knew he would.

Putting his muzzle to the ground, Khenty caught the scent of the vrykolakas. It was

mixed with the putrid odor of decaying flesh and rancid blood. Sniffing, he followed

the scent up the mountain trail, sickened by the smell invading his nostrils. Stopping

now and again to change direction, he began closing in on the entity.

The terrain was rocky and steep, and the higher up Mount Inferno he ran, the

colder the rain slashing down at him became. There was almost a touch of sleet in the

air and it made the going rough. Twice he slid down the sharply jutting surface of one

cliff—scraping his belly badly—until he spied a cave wind-etched into the mountain

wall. As soon as he neared the entrance, he heard the pitiful, frightened cry of a child

and without another thought, bounded into the dark recess of the cave.

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Chapter Eleven

Catherine huddled in the thick shawl that had been left in her room for her as she

slept and walked carefully down the stairs. She was still a bit lightheaded and her

stomach growled with hunger. It had been the bright light of morning pouring in

through the two edges of the curtains that had awakened her. A salty taste lurked in her

mouth, bringing back vividly to her the evening before and her taking of Khenty’s

blood. Swallowing convulsively to keep the gorge from bubbling up her throat, she

made her way downstairs in search of her husband.

“Good morning, milady.”

She turned to see Prince Rhada coming toward her with a tight smile. “Good

morning,” she managed to say.

“I hope you slept well and are rested this morn,” he told her. He narrowed his eyes

in concern at her paleness as he drew nearer. “You aren’t feeling well, are you?”

Putting a hand to her throbbing head, Catherine replied that she wasn’t. “I have a

terrible headache and my stomach is queasy.”

“You need Sustenance,” he said to her, and reached out to gently take her arm. “My

staff has prepared a light meal for us.”

Horror filled Catherine’s gaze. “Oh milord, I don’t think I could eat anything the

way I feel!”

“Trust me,” he said, leading her from the stairs and down a short corridor toward

the dining room. “I am aware Khenty brought you fully into his world, and since I

promised him I would look after you until he returns, I believe I know what will make

you feel better.”

Catherine stopped, looking up at him. “He hasn’t returned?”

Rhada shook his head. “Not yet, but I don’t expect him to until he has found the

vrykolakas and destroyed it. If I am correct, it is hiding somewhere up on Mount

Inferno and the weather was very bad last night.”

“He could be hurt!” she said, trembling. “He could—”

“Do you feel that?” Rhada interrupted her.

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Milady,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips for a light, respectful kiss to calm

her. “You are fully in his world now. Had something dire happened to him, you would

have known it at that very moment. You are so connected to him that what one feels,

the other will feel.”

“But I was asleep,” she protested. “What if—?”

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“Believe me, dearling,” he said gently. “Your husband is well and will return as

quickly as he can.” He patted her hand. “Now, we need to see to your wellbeing.”

Before she could object again, he led her into the dining room and held out a chair