It was storming by the time the plane landed on the private airstrip in Santa Rosa County. Lightning stitched across the sky as though it came from the sewing machine of a crazed seamstress. Thunder shook the ground with loud sonic booms. The pine trees and pin oaks to the north of the airstrip were bending and twisting in a harsh wind that howled as it blasted the plane.
“Tornado weather,” Coulter remarked as he stood in the opened doorway of the plane.
“Aye,” Cree agreed. He nudged his chin toward the black Chevy van pulling up. “Move it.”
Coulter didn’t argue. He skipped down the plane’s gangway. As soon as he neared the van, a door opened and he ducked inside. Cree followed him with Sorn and the Nightwind bringing up the rear.
“This weather ain’t even good for ducks and fishes,” Sorn complained. He dusted his hands through his wet hair.
A very loud clap of thunder reverberated over the car as the driver put the van in motion.
“I don’t think we’ll be going to the cemetery today,” Coulter said as he ran his palm over the fogged window beside him.
“You afraid you’ll melt?” Sorn sneered.
“Knock it off, Sorn,” Cree warned in a voice that brooked no comment. “I’m getting a fucking migraine and I don’t want to hear any shit from any of you.”
“Where are we going?” Randon inquired. “Same place we stayed before?”
“We’re going to Syntian Cree’s house as the guests of Lauren Fowler,” Cree replied.
“You’re joking,” Coulter said.
“Reapers don’t joke,” Cree grumbled. “She’s been made aware of the danger this world—hell all the worlds—are in and she’s offered her help.”
“And you trust her?” Randon asked.
“Maybe we shouldn’t take the incubus out there,” Coulter said. “She’s not real fond of Nightwinds.”
“She knows he’ll be with us and that he’s the key to extracting Hades’ Key from the tombstone. She vowed not to mess with him,” Cree told them.
“I fucking hate witches,” Randon mumbled.
“My life-mate is a witch,” Sorn reminded him.
“Your problem, pussy boy,” the Nightwind said. “Not mine.”
The men all looked to the Alpha Reaper—expecting him to call a stop to the insults—but Cree was rubbing tight circles over his right eye and his face was pinched. Signs of the brutal migraine pounding between his temples.
“He’s hurting,” Sorn whispered to Randon.
“Aye, so don’t do anything to make the pain worse,” the incubus stated.
* * * * *
Lauren Fowler stood at the window watching the lightning zig-zagging across the firmament. Storms used to terrify her. Now, nothing did. She had conquered every fear she’d ever had.
Except the fear of loneliness. That was going to stay with her for as long as the being she loved was lost to her. It still hurt that she had been forced to send him back to the Abyss but he had committed coldblooded murders she could neither overlook nor dismiss. He had to be punished. She would love him until the day she died and one day she would call him back to her.
Unfortunately he had found a way to possibly escape her punishment and though the thought of him fleeing the Abyss upset her, it did not frighten her.
Not like it did her consort. She turned her head to look at the Nightwind who had taken Syntian’s place in her life and in her bed. Though he looked like her old friend Ben Hulbert, he was all demon and easy to control.
“What worries you, my love?” he asked as he joined her at the window. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest, putting his chin on her shoulder, his cheek to hers.
“What if the succubae gain the key?” she asked. “If they do it will not be only the worlds they help destroy. He will get loose.”
“And come for you,” her lover said. He sighed. “And me.” His embrace tightened. “Especially me.”
“I will protect you, Jaleel,” she said. When they were in private she used his demon name and he wore his demonic face but in public he was the spitting image of the former sheriff of Santa Rosa County, the late and lamented Ben Hulbert. Hulbert was the biological father of her child who was in boarding school in France—his sperm stolen from him by Syntian Cree while in succubus form.
“What of this other Nightwind?” he asked. “The one coming with the Reaper?” He said the word Reaper as though it was a bitter taste in his mouth.
“No threat to either you or me. He is life-mated.” She laughed softly. “A woman who has an archdemon for a Blood-mate.”
“Has he made her immortal?” Jaleel asked.
“I scried her and yes, once she accepted his seed she became immortal.”
“As I wish you were,” he said with a sigh.
“I have no desire to be,” she said. “I prefer my life be finite.”
Headlights shone at the end of the serpentine oystershell driveway.
“They’re here,” she said. “There is no need for you to pretend to be anything other than what you truly are. Each of the men who will be staying with us are not entirely human.”
“I sense something that disturbs me,” Jaleel said. “There is one among those coming who is a being I have never encountered before.”
“That would be Dixon Coulter,” she said. “He is a Shadowlord. I have known of him for years. I have never sensed him to be a threat but now he has come into his full powers and is something more than a mere Shadowlord. He calls himself a Gravelord. Also, he was given a Reaper hellion and that makes it necessary to watch him very closely.”
“I will do so,” Jaleel said, releasing her. “If he poses a threat to you—”
“He does not,” she said. “When I say watch him closely, watch for his powers. I need to know just how potent they are, how much danger he poses to humans.”
None, milady, came a soft whisper in her head. I am here to protect.
“Are you now?” she asked aloud, knowing Jaleel had heard the Gravelord’s words.
Fetch your book and I will swear upon it, he told her.
“Bring me my Book of Shadows,” Lauren ordered her lover. “He offered and I will accept an oath made in that fashion.”
Thank you, milady.
“Don’t think me yet, Gravelord,” she replied. “If you prove false, I can send you to visit an old friend of mine in the Primal Ooze.”
Soft laughter echoed through her mind and she smiled. She’d observed Dixon Coulter even when he’d been a young boy. She’d been aware of his budding talents and had helped to see him placed with the right foster parents who would encourage and mold him into a good man who did not abuse the gods-given powers he’d inherited. He had grown powerful since ascending to his full uniqueness but she was willing to bet he was on the side of good.
Jaleel went to the front door as the van pulled up to the house and stopped. He opened the portal and stood back as the back door of the van opened and two men came vaulting up the steps onto the veranda. “Bad day to be traveling,” he said to the first man. He swept his hand behind him. “Enter and be at peace.”
Lauren saw Viraiden Cree nod curtly. It was clear to her he had as much liking for Nightwinds as they did for Reapers. He looked down, hesitated only a moment before stepping over the bright-blue threshold placed there to keep out unwanted demons. She held out her hand as he entered her home.
“Lord Cree,” she said. “Welcome to my home. Enter and be at peace.”
The Reaper took her hand in his and brought it to his lips in a courtly manner. “Milady,” he greeted her. “Thank you for your invitation.”
“It is my pleasure to help you.” She looked past him to the second man, also a Reaper. “Lord Sorn. Please enter and be at peace.”
Darkyn Sorn stepped forward to accept her hand and—not to be outdone in the chivalry department—placed his own kiss upon her hand. “A pleasure, milady,” he said.
Dixon Coulter entered next and also took her hand but he shook it with the firm assurance of a man unquestioning of his welcome. He smiled at her in a way that made her laugh.
“I owe you a great debt, milady,” he said. “And I didn’t realize that until today.”
“It was an honor to help you,” she told him. “I didn’t have a great childhood either.”
“You made what was left of mine bearable and for that I thank you,” he said. “Any time I may be of service to you, all you need do is ask.”
“I will keep that in mind, Dixon,” she said congenially then eased her hand from his. “Enter my home and be at peace.” She looked past him and let the smile leave her face.
He was standing on the porch with his hands shoved into the pockets of his black jeans. Hair wet and curling low over his forehead, his amber eyes wary and holding just a touch of fear, his shoulders were hunched in a way that announced his expectation of being mistreated.
“Will you not join us, Lord Kayle?” she asked as the van pulled away from the house.
“Need I worry you will trap me therein, milady?” he asked, his voice husky.
“You do not,” she replied.
“Or that you will send me to the Abyss?” he countered.
“The only way I can do that is if you sign my Book of Shadows and I seriously doubt you will,” she answered.
He shook his head. “Nay, milady, I would not.”
“Then feel free to enter my home and be at peace, Randon Kayle. I mean you no harm. It will be at your hand that Syntian Cree is kept where he belongs for now. I have no quarrel with you.”
His eyes slid past her to the other Nightwind.
“Nor does Prince Jaleel Jaborn,” she amended.
He stood there for a moment longer then stepped over the threshold.
Lauren did not offer to shake his hand. Instead she turned her back on him and spoke to the others. “It will be dark soon,” she told them. “I assume—weather permitting—you will set out at first light to visit the cemetery.” She indicated they were to precede her into the living room.
“Rain or shine,” Cree said. “It is imperative we find the key and secure it.”
With Randon lagging behind, the others filed into the living room and took seats at Lauren’s invitation. She ignored him as he stood in the archway between the foyer and the living room.
“It is my understanding no one can withdraw the key from the tombstone save the incubus,” Lauren said, looking from Cree to Coulter.
“That’s what we believe,” Cree acknowledged.
“And you fear the succubae will send a force against you to steal it as soon as he does.”
“Yes,” Coulter answered.
“I believe I can be of help to you, then,” she said. “I can cast a circle around the cemetery’s perimeter. It won’t keep the succubae out but it will slow her down and prevent any other demons from entering the hallowed ground. How do you plan on securing the key?”
“We brought with us a tabernacle that was blessed by three priests,” Cree replied. “Anglican, Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox. It was locked with the wax from an Advent candle blessed by the Pope and will remain locked until just before Kayle removes the key. Inside the tabernacle are holy objects from four other religious groups.”
“Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism,” Coulter stated. “Cree will break the seal and open the tabernacle. The moment Rand retrieves the key, he will place it into the tabernacle.”
“The container will then be sealed with more wax from the Advent candle that is in a small tin already inside the tabernacle,” Cree concluded.
“That’s my job,” Kerreyder said. “As soon as Aiden opens the tabernacle, I’ll take out the tin and heat it in my hand.” He wriggled his fingers. “Helps to be pyrokinetic.”
“Where is this tabernacle now?” she asked.
“We were instructed not to bring it into your home since you are a Wiccan,” Cree replied. “We left it in the care of our driver, a young priest from the Archdiocese of Mobile.”
“You are taking no chances,” Lauren said.
“Not with what’s at stake,” Cree replied. The religious blessings and holy objects can be considered precautions.”
“That is all well and good,” Jaleel said, “but you are forgetting one important point.” When everyone was looking at him, he leveled his gaze on Randon. “The succubae do not fear the gods of those pantheons. The only god they fear is Jee Yn Ayr, the Father-God. Do you have a relic from Him?”
“No, but they have his son.”
Those assembled snapped their heads toward the voice that spoke quietly from a dark corner of the room. Kerreyder walked slowly into the light, his eyes glowing.
* * * * *
Tired and soul-content from the excellent meal she’d shared with Alyn and a couple of med techs who’d joined them at their table, Kenzi yawned as she entered the elevator. She wanted nothing more than to take a leisurely soak in her big marble tub with a glass of chilled plum wine and listen to a David Arkenstone CD to unwind. As the panels closed, her gaze went to the door that opened onto the stairwell. She reached up to touch the key card that hung from a lanyard around her neck. For some reason, knowing the key card was there eased some passing disquiet that nudged her as she looked at the door. Randon’s words from her first day at Tearmann came back to her.
“Each stairwell has a weapons case,” he’d said, “to go along with the fire extinguishers. Those are heavy duty tranqs. Each gun holds forty hits of pairilis. The doses in these guns are Class Four. They would stop a rampaging elephant in mid-run in less than a second. They will stop one of the non-humans found here in two.”
She hoped she never had to use the key card to open a case in order to take out one of the guns but knowing they were there reassured her. There were times after she’d seen some of the more violent, vile creatures in lockdown that she wished she had one of the guns with her in her suite. So far, none of the prisoners had threatened her but she’d been warned that would eventually happen.
The elevator stopped and its doors opened on her floor. Once more her eyes went to the stairwell door a few feet away and a shudder rippled down her body. Before she stepped out of the cage, she looked up and down the hall—half-expecting to see some lumbering menace coming toward her.
“Really, Delaney?” she mumbled. She pursed her lips at her overcharged imagination but hurried nonetheless to her room door. Even as she placed her palm against the reader, she looked behind her and to both sides. To make matters worse, the hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms crinkled. She couldn’t get into her room fast enough—turning quickly to punch in the lock code that would seal the door. As soon as she had, she thought of Kerreyder and how easily he had entered her room despite it being locked.
Once more unease moved through her. She went through every room with her heart in her throat—even looked under the bed and in each closet—until she was satisfied she was alone.
Of course that wouldn’t matter if whatever entity was disturbing her could walk through walls or materialize at any moment.
“Get a grip!” she chastised herself but nevertheless went to the phone to apprise security of her unease. At least they would be aware and, if a creature had escaped confinement, alert her.
“Security. Reynolds.”
“Yes, this is Dr. Delaney. Are there any alerts out?”
“Not at this time, Doc,” the guard replied. “Something bothering you?”
“Intuition is something we don’t disregard around here,” her counselor had told her during orientation. “If you feel uneasy, you let security know.”
“It’s probably nothing but I can’t seem to shake the feeling I’m being watched,” she told him.
“I’ll send someone up right away. Are you locked in?”
“Yes.”
“Is your weapon at hand?”
Kenzi blinked. “My weapon?” she questioned. “What weapon?”
“You don’t have a weapon?”
“No, I don’t. Should I?” she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Most of the staff do,” Reynolds replied. “I’ll have one brought up to you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”
“Don’t open the door until you check to see who’s there. His name is Palmer and he’ll hold his ID badge up for you to read.”
“Okay,” she agreed and when she hung up, felt a bit better than before her call.
Although her nerves were still on edge. She wished Randon or Kerreyder were there but they were down in Florida. She thought of calling Alyn to sit with her but that seemed silly. She was a grown woman and no doubt this would not be the first time she’d feel anxious at Tearmann. Nerves went with the job.
Unable to relax, she kicked off her shoes and paced as she waited for Security Officer Palmer to arrive. She kept running her palms down her slacks in an effort to still her hands.
* * * * *
Lauren swept her eyes down the tall frame of the archdemon then cocked a brow. “You’re a tall drink of water, aren’t you?”
Kerreyder smiled. “And you’re the woman who turned the tables on Syntian Cree,” he replied.
“They needed turning,” she said, one corner of her mouth crooked in challenge.
“No doubt,” the archdemon conceded.
“So,” she said, drawing the word. “What do you bring to the party, Lord Kerreyder?”
“Prince Kerreyder,” he corrected. “I am the son of the Father-God and Queen Eisheth of the Succubae.”
“My condolences on the bitch who birthed you,” Jaleel mumbled.
“Thank you,” Kerreyder surprised the demon by replying.
“You’re welcome,” Jaleel replied.
“What I bring to the party is another level of protection for our intrepid Nightwind,” Kerreyder told Lauren. “Your protection spell around the cemetery will be useful but it isn’t absolute. Combined with my presence, that will give Kayle ample time to get the key into the tabernacle and consequently seal it. The moment the container is sealed, I will take possession of it.”
“How do we know you won’t hand it over to your mother or to Naamah?” Jaleel queried.
The archdemon cut his gaze to the Nightwind. “I have recently found my Blood-mate, Jaborn. Think you I would do anything to jeopardize her world?”
“You could take her back with you to Treigeilys,” Jaleel suggested.
“No, I cannot,” Kerreyder said. “I have made her immortal with my seed but she has no desire to leave this world.”
“The lady is bound not only to you but to a Nightwind,” Lauren said. “Though he has yet to sign his blood oath to her.”
Kerreyder looked pointedly at Randon. “This is true.”
“She has not asked,” Randon said.
“Does she even know of the Book?” Lauren inquired. “Does she know where it is?”
Randon shook his head. “She has not asked,” he repeated.
“And you have conveniently not told her,” Lauren accused.
Randon raised his chin. “I will.”
“When?” Lauren pressed. She narrowed her eyes. “I suggest sooner rather than later, incubus.”
The threat was there in the witch’s voice. In the way her gaze pierced him. It was on the tip of his tongue to order her to mind her own business but she was a powerful woman whose powers had grown exponentially under the tutelage of the Nightwind standing beside her. He could feel the depth and scope of those powers and they made him uneasy.
“I will tell her when I return to Tearmann,” he said.
“You swear?” Lauren demanded. “On your life-mate’s soul?”
Randon ground his teeth but dipped his head in a brief bow. “I swear,” he replied.
“Go back on that vow and I will send Jaleel to have a long talk with her,” she said then turned her back on him once again.
“I’d toe the line if I were you, bud,” Coulter said under his breath.
Randon didn’t reply to the advice. Instead he walked to the bay window at the front of the room, took his hand out of his pocket and pushed the sheers apart to look out.
“He’s a loner, isn’t he?” Coulter inquired.
“He knows when he’s not welcome,” Lauren stated.
“Mayhap not welcome here in your home, milady, but assuredly needed and wanted,” Cree defended the Nightwind. “He is a valuable asset to the Consortium.”
“Even maggots have their uses, Lord Cree,” she replied.
Randon’s eyelids flickered at the insult but he didn’t look around. He stood there listening to the planning of the next day’s excursion into the cemetery. It wasn’t just the fact that he felt unwelcome that had him quiet and tense. There was a hint of something evil in the air that had garnered his attention. He was fairly sure the succubae already had someone—or something—in the little Florida Panhandle town. He couldn’t sense its whereabouts or scent it but he didn’t need to to know wickedness was on the prowl.
He shifted his shoulders, feeling as though a heavy, wet weight was perched there breathing hot, foul air along the nape of his neck.
“I feel it too,” Kerreyder said, joining him at the window.
Outside the lightning was forking dangerously from cloud to ground and the wind was howling around the eaves of the house. The sonic booms made the glass in the window shake.
“There can be no slipups tomorrow,” Randon said. “Humanity depends on us being able to work as a cohesive team.”
“Don’t worry about the witch,” the archdemon said. “She poses no threat to you. This I swear. You are my protection for Kenzi in this world. I will not allow anything to happen to you.”
The Nightwind drew in a long breath. “Lucky me, huh?”
“I could send you back to the Abyss if that is what you want.”
Randon chuckled sardonically then turned his head to look at Kerreyder. “You and I both know that’s a hollow threat, Warden. Stop making it.”
Kerreyder grinned then shrugged. “Busted.” He reached out to clamp a hand on the Nightwind’s shoulder. “Despite fucking hating you, I like you, incubus.” He squeezed Randon’s shoulder. “I fucking do.”
“Sucks to be you,” Randon said, shrugging off the touch. He leveled his gaze on the archdemon. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
“Everything all right over there?” Cree asked.
Randon kept his attention riveted on Kerreyder who smiled slowly and with a hint of nastiness no one but the Nightwind could see.
“Aye, Aiden,” the archdemon said. “Everything is just hunkey-dory.” He winked at Randon then turned away, strolling back to the others as though he’d not a care in the world.
Randon returned to watching the strobe lighting of the violent storm outside the window and shifted his shoulders once more—wishing he knew why his skin felt too tight for his body and something dark moved silently through his mind.
“What happens once you have the key?” Lauren asked Kerreyder.
“I will take it to the Holy Land. There, representatives of all the religions will be waiting to perform a ceremony that will seal it for all time within hallowed ground sacred to all of them.”
“Which is where, exactly?”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know,” Kerreyder said. “Once it is in the hands of the religious, no demon can touch it or know where it will be laid to rest. I will not be privy to that location.”
“And that’s as it should be,” Coulter said.
“Let’s hope the preparation is as ironclad as you seem to think it will be,” Lauren said. “I don’t want to have to go through this ever again.”
“None of us do,” Cree stated.
* * * * *
While she waited for the security guard to show up at her door, Kenzi continued to pace. She was antsy and her anxiety was growing. If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to explain why she felt so uneasy. It was an intangible thing that had her nerves on edge and her spine tingling. She repeatedly scraped her palms down her forearms where the hair was stirring.
“Come on, come on, come on!” she said to the door. When the chime sounded, she all but jumped out of her skin. Beside it was a small vid-com screen.
A man she’d never seen stood on the other side, staring at the camera above the door chime. “Security, ma’am,” he said then put the case that held his badge up to the camera.
Kenzi looked at the holograph overlay that shimmered over the shiny gold shield. A pale-green photographic image of the guard hovered above the badge—rotating from full front facial view to profile then back again. The image matched the face staring back at her from the vid-com.
“Just a moment,” she said and began punching in the code to unlock the door. Opening the portal, she smiled at the guard, he smiled back and then his face morphed into that of the Saurian prisoner Randon and Sorn had brought back from Florida. Something vaguely acidic hit her in the face and she sank to the floor in a heap.