WesternWind 4 - Tears of the Reaper (28 page)

Everyone else in their traveling party was already on board the special train that had been sent out to pick up the Prime Reaper Arawn Gehdrin and his wife Danielle. The Gehdrins had been visiting in Haines City and would now be returning to the Citadel before going back to their home. The third Reaper in the line of command—Cynyr Cree—had already escorted his wife and their child to one of the six sleeping cars that had been set aside for their use. Glyn and Iden would be sharing a car between them as would Edward and Benjamin, Edward’s wife and children utilizing the fifth car while Owen and Rachel would take the sixth. The fussy little man who had been introduced to her as the train’s steward had his own sleep area near the front of the train.

Those horses the Reapers wished to take East with them had been loaded onto the special car and the wide door had been left open in preparation for Owen’s arrival. She saw a man going in with buckets of oats and another with buckets of water for the long troughs that ran in front of the double set of stalls.

“We take care of our animals,” Iden had told her earlier.

The menfolk were sitting in the day car and the fussy little man—whose name was Harold—was preparing the noon meal. The smells coming from the kitchen car made Rachel’s stomach growl.

“Harold is really Cynyr’s man but the two of them don’t see eye to eye. Harold visits the Citadel more than he is in Haines City and was there when the High Council sent the train after us,” Arawn had informed her.

Through the window of the day car, Rachel could see Aingeal Cree watching her and she looked up, waving shyly at the beautiful woman. Aingeal winked at her and looked away, saying something to Betsey Dayton as Edward’s wife joined her and Danielle.

“Where are you, my Owen?” Rachel whispered. Though she knew the train would not leave without him, she was growing increasingly more worried as the minutes ticked away. She began pacing again.

The whistle’s shriek made her jump but as soon as the sound died away, she knew it had been a signal that Owen had been spotted. She spun around, searching the land north of the platform and as soon as she spied him, her heart did a funny little squeeze a full second before she frowned.

“Now who is that he is bringing with him?” It was Harold who had spoken in an aggrieved tone from the train’s steps. “I don’t know that I have enough to feed eighteen people!”

“The brats won’t eat much,” Rachel heard the Prime Reaper say. “Don’t sweat it, Harry.”

“Lord Arawn, please!” the fussy little man pleaded. “Don’t start calling me that too!” He threw his hands into the air and stomped back up the steps.

Rachel looked away from her husband as Arawn stepped off the train. He smiled at her. “Wanna walk with me to the horse car?” he asked, offering his arm.

Smiling shyly at him, she took his arm as he led her down the wooden plank way to the car two back behind the coal car. Danielle had explained to her earlier that the car just behind the coal car was the baggage car. Between the baggage car and the day car were the sleeping cars.

“Do you know who that is riding beside Owen and hanging on to the horse for dear life?” Arawn asked.

“It may be my father’s maid Daphne,” she said, and the moment she said it, knew it for fact in her mind. “He abused her something fierce.”

Arawn nodded. “Seemed to be a habit with him, huh?” he asked.

Rachel did not miss the fact that the Prime Reaper had spoken of her father in the past tense. She thought about that for a moment then released a long, slow breath. There was no sorrow in her. She found she felt nothing at all about the man who had made her life such a misery over the years, only relief that it would no longer happen.

Owen was leading Daphne’s mount and the girl was—indeed—hanging on to the saddle pommel as though her life depended on it. Her face was pale beneath the livid bruises that covered her cheek and forehead and her lips were quivering. As soon as she saw Rachel, she heaved a long sigh of relief.

Arawn stepped forward to help the maid down and swung her easily onto the platform. “You bringing this nag with us, Tohre?” he asked Owen.

“Oh please, sir!” Daphne cried, and would have dropped to her knees if Arawn hadn’t snaked out his hands to grab her shoulders to keep her from doing so. “Oh please don’t leave me behind. I…”

“I was referring to the horse, dearling,” Arawn said gently. “Not you.” He cupped her cheek. “You are coming with us, milady. Understood?”

Daphne’s face flamed but all she could do was nod at his words.

“I wasn’t planning on taking her horse,” Owen said as he threw a leg over his mount. “But Céierseach is going.”

Arawn grunted. “You really ought to find another name for your beasts, Tohre.” He gave Daphne’s horse a quick look. “I think we should take this mare. She looks to be a good beast.”

“Suit yourself,” Owen said. He was looking into his wife’s eyes and aching to take her into his arms but didn’t want to in front of his boss.

Arawn ordered the mare loaded onto the train then turned to offer his arm to Daphne as he had to Rachel. “Let’s you and me get on board and ready to eat,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“It will take me a while to fix us something, milord,” Daphne began, fear trilling through her eyes, “but…”

“Dinner’s ready and waiting,” Arawn said. “You’ll have to get used to being catered to, dearling.”

Daphne was looking up at the tall, handsome man with something akin to reverence. A hesitant smile was hovering at her lips as she walked with him to the day car.

“I like that coat,” Owen told Rachel.

“You had no trouble?” she asked, her gaze roaming over him, looking for anything out of place.

“Not a speck,” he said, and moved over to her, reaching out to cup her cheeks in his hands. “I hope you don’t mind me bringing the girl, but I just couldn’t leave her there at their mercy.”

“I am glad you didn’t,” she said as his right thumb feathered over her lips. She kissed the calloused pad then ran her arms around him, holding him as she pressed her cheek to his chest. Beneath the leather of the duster and the silk of the shirt, she could hear his stalwart heart thundering. “My Owen?”

He knew what was in her mind and nodded. “Those who would put themselves above their own have been seen to by the goddess. They will cause no more suffering in this lifetime.”

Rachel nodded. “That is good to know.”

“Let’s go, wench,” he said, squeezing her tightly for a moment before releasing her. “Arawn will have my hide if this train isn’t out of the station on time.”

At the mention of the punishment to which he was headed, Rachel’s own heart did a hard knock against her ribs. He had slung an arm around her shoulders and was leading her to the day car. Her arm was clasped tightly around his waist, holding him to her for all she was worth.

Owen glanced down at her, picking up on the fear for him that was cascading through her being. He would need to explain to her, prepare her for what would happen at the Citadel. He didn’t want her to know he would be in excruciating pain for the five or six months he’d be in the con cell. She didn’t need to know. He knew she’d be worried enough about him as it was.

He leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head as they walked.

“What do you think of Aingeal and Danni?” he asked.

“I like them,” she said. “They are Reapers too.”

“Aye,” he said, smiling. “That they are.”

“They said they’d teach me all I needed to know and when we get to the Citadel, Lea would teach me other things.”

Owen frowned. “What other things?” he asked. They had reached the steps leading up into the day car.

“I don’t know,” Rachel answered with a shrug. “They said I needed to talk to her though.”

“I am going to have to have a talk with Aingeal and Danni myself,” he said. He put a hand to the small of her back to usher her on board. As they entered the day car, he swept his gaze over those assembled until he found the two female Reapers. He didn’t like the fact they were looking back at him with a smugness he found disconcerting.

“All aboard!” Harold called out, pointing at the seats he intended for Owen and Rachel to take.

“Not so loud, Harry,” Cynyr snapped. “You’ll wake the baby.”

Harold stiffened. “All aboard!” he repeated, but in a lower, less strident tone. He sniffed at the Reaper then pivoted on his heel and pranced—not walked—down the aisle toward the dining car.

“He’s a strange little man,” Rachel whispered to her husband.

Owen nodded. He was glaring at Aingeal, knowing full well she was the ringleader of the bunch. When she puckered her lips at him and made little kissy motions at him, he snorted, making a mental note to have that talk with her and Danni.

As the train pulled out of the station, it made enough noise to wake the dead. Rachel had seen pictures of the engines but had never seen one in reality. It was thrilling to be sitting in the plush velvet seat and moving along without the jolting of a horse’s gait beneath her. She felt Owen take her hand in his and thread his fingers through hers. She glanced at him but immediately returned her attention to the passing scenery.

“It’ll start going faster as the steam builds up,” her husband told her.

Rachel’s eyes widened. “Faster?” she said, and at his nod, she wiggled in her seat and leaned her head against the glass. As the train began gathering momentum and the speed increased, she was like a child standing at the window of a candy shop, one hand pressed to the window.

Once the engine was moving along at a fast clip, Harold bid the passengers into the dining room. The car was larger than normal because the Shadowlords had known there would be extra people to partake of the meals. Everyone with the exception of the two men in the engine were seated at the linen-covered tables. Meals for the trainmen would be taken to them when the passengers had eaten.

Not wanting them to feel left out, Owen and Rachel sat with Daphne and Benjamin, who seemed to be flirting with the maid. Nothing was said of the Colony or their flight from it. The talk was about what the six newcomers could expect when they arrived at the Citadel. As the dessert was served, Arawn came over to their table and put a hand on Owen’s shoulder.

“Would you join me for a breath of fresh air, Owen?” the Prime Reaper asked.

It wasn’t a request and Owen knew it. He pushed his half-eaten dessert away from him, took the napkin from his lap and blotted his lips. He scraped his chair back. “I won’t be long,” he told his wife.

Rachel nodded. She knew Arawn was the man in charge of the Reapers and she had a feeling there was business to be discussed between him and Owen. It made her a bit uneasy but she gave Daphne a wavering smile.

Owen followed Arawn through the dining room car and the day car and out through the wide plate glass door that led to the observation platform. Though the air was frigid, the two men moved to the iron railing and both leaned over it, bracing their forearms on the top rail as they stared at the unobstructed view behind the train.

“Everything taken care of in New Towne?” Arawn asked.

“Aye.”

The Prime Reaper was silent a moment then spoke again without looking at the man beside him. “I spoke to Lord Kheelan. There won’t be a need for a Tribunal when we get to the Citadel. I am to escort Rachel to your quarters and have Danni go over things with her. You are to report straight to the con cell.”

Owen flinched. That wasn’t good news. He had no idea his sentence had already been handed down. Now he truly dreaded hearing it. He was in no way prepared for the length of his coming stay in the con cell.

“One year, Owen,” Arawn said.

Owen snapped his head around. “Merciful Alel, no!” he said, eyes wide.

“I argued until I was blue in the face but the sentence will stand. Lord Kheelan is furious with you.”

Owen knew Arawn wasn’t just saying that to make him feel better. Gehdrin took care of his men and he would have done everything he could to have the sentence reduced if it had been humanly possible.

“A year,” Owen repeated with disbelief, his shoulders slumping. He hung his head. “I never dreamed it would be so long.”

“I really am sorry, Owen.” He turned his head to look into Owen’s eyes. “We’ll look after her for you.”

“I know you will but that’s not…” He shook his head. “She’s carrying my child, Arawn. I won’t be there to see him born.”

Arawn squeezed his eyes shut. That was brutal news and he hated to hear it. His own lady-wife was expecting—thanks to Morrigunia’s compassion—and it made his soul ache to know Owen would be locked in misery when his and Rachel’s child came into the world. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe if you hadn’t gone after her father and taken him out as you did…” He sighed. “I don’t know. It might have been the same either way.”

“What about Glyn and Iden?” he asked.

Arawn blew out a long breath, puffing his cheeks out. “Well, Glyn was handed three months but most of that was for the gates being blown up by the drone. The other was for fishing out the second parasite.”

“That was an order!” Owen said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Arawn said. “Three months. No argument.”

“And Iden?”