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Authors: Charlotte Boyett-Compo
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asked.
Moira’s face turned pale. “I don’t know.” She yelled for Aingeal and when there was no answer, she took Samuel’s arm and propelled him toward the stairs. “Find her, lad!”
“Best get that table cleared,” Samuels ordered as he took the stairs two at a time.
“They’re bringing in Bevyn. He’s been stabbed.”
Without hesitation, Moira hobbled to the table and swept her arm across the surface to send salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and ketchup bottles crashing to the floor. She shouted for her daughter-in-law. “Get your ass down here, ye lazy gal!”
Overhead, Moira could hear the thump of boot heels stomping across the floor and Samuels calling for Aingeal. Having heard Cynyr leave earlier in the evening, she had not heard him return. She knew he was out somewhere searching for the threat to their 37
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
town. She closed her eyes and staggered, knowing in her heart the Reaper’s woman was not upstairs.
“We let ye down, son,” Moira whispered.
The back door crashed open as a trio of men came bustling into the kitchen. Mick Brady and Verlin Walker were carrying Bevyn between them, the healer following close on their heels.
“Who did that to him?” Moira asked as she saw the black blood dripping from the Reaper.
“Damned Jakotai,” Walker snarled as he and Brady laid Bevyn down on the table. In the doorway, several men were milling with weapons clutched tightly in their fists. Moira shooed them out, ordering them to stand watch in case trouble was headed their way.
Samuels came thundering down the stairs, his eyes wide, face drained of color.
“Aingeal ain’t up there,” he reported.
“He took her,” Brady stated. “The brave took her.”
“Cynyr is going to shit a brick,” Walker said to no one in particular. He shuddered.
“Where is he anyways?” Healer Murphy asked as he tore open Bevyn’s silk shirt to get to the wound.
“Wasn’t upstairs,” Samuels said.
“He went out a while ago,” Moira told them.
“This one is going to need Sustenance,” Healer Murphy said. “The wound is already closing itself up but he’s damned well bled out here.”
“Got some in the ice chest that fancy fellow brought from the train,” Moira said, and pointed to an oak box sitting in a corner of the kitchen. “Maybe won’t be enough though.”
Samuels hurried over to the chest, opened it and took out two bottles of red liquid. He uncorked the first one and handed it to Brady.
Bevyn’s eyes fluttered open as the smell from the bottle wafted under his nose. He was pale but didn’t appear to be in too much pain as he tried to sit up, but the men wouldn’t allow it, putting their hands on his shoulders to push him gently back down.
“Hold on there,” Healer Murphy ordered. “We’re getting you what you need.” He lifted Bevyn’s head as Brady placed the mouth of the bottle against the Reaper’s lips. No one could watch the blood being consumed. The men and Moira looked everywhere but at the young man swilling down the Sustenance. None of them paid any attention to Annie as she appeared in the doorway, gagging at the sight.
“Damned useless female,” Moira said, not deigning to look toward her hated daughter-in-law.
Samuels handed the second bottle to Brady who gave it to Bevyn as soon as the first was emptied.
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Reaper’s Revenge
“We’ve got to go after her,” the Reaper insisted.
“Ye ain’t in any condition to go gallivanting about the countryside, lad,” Moira said.
“Cree can’t do it,” Bevyn said, shoving aside the restraining hands that were trying to keep him down. He swung his legs off the table and pushed himself up with a tight grimace on his handsome face. “He and Arawn are in a fire fight.”
“I’ll go with you,” Brady said.
“Me too,” Samuels agreed.
Bevyn shook his head. “I’ll make better time if I fly.”
Every eye there blinked. No one had the nerve to ask what the Reaper meant as he
Moira’s face turned pale. “I don’t know.” She yelled for Aingeal and when there was no answer, she took Samuel’s arm and propelled him toward the stairs. “Find her, lad!”
“Best get that table cleared,” Samuels ordered as he took the stairs two at a time.
“They’re bringing in Bevyn. He’s been stabbed.”
Without hesitation, Moira hobbled to the table and swept her arm across the surface to send salt and pepper shakers, hot sauce and ketchup bottles crashing to the floor. She shouted for her daughter-in-law. “Get your ass down here, ye lazy gal!”
Overhead, Moira could hear the thump of boot heels stomping across the floor and Samuels calling for Aingeal. Having heard Cynyr leave earlier in the evening, she had not heard him return. She knew he was out somewhere searching for the threat to their 37
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
town. She closed her eyes and staggered, knowing in her heart the Reaper’s woman was not upstairs.
“We let ye down, son,” Moira whispered.
The back door crashed open as a trio of men came bustling into the kitchen. Mick Brady and Verlin Walker were carrying Bevyn between them, the healer following close on their heels.
“Who did that to him?” Moira asked as she saw the black blood dripping from the Reaper.
“Damned Jakotai,” Walker snarled as he and Brady laid Bevyn down on the table. In the doorway, several men were milling with weapons clutched tightly in their fists. Moira shooed them out, ordering them to stand watch in case trouble was headed their way.
Samuels came thundering down the stairs, his eyes wide, face drained of color.
“Aingeal ain’t up there,” he reported.
“He took her,” Brady stated. “The brave took her.”
“Cynyr is going to shit a brick,” Walker said to no one in particular. He shuddered.
“Where is he anyways?” Healer Murphy asked as he tore open Bevyn’s silk shirt to get to the wound.
“Wasn’t upstairs,” Samuels said.
“He went out a while ago,” Moira told them.
“This one is going to need Sustenance,” Healer Murphy said. “The wound is already closing itself up but he’s damned well bled out here.”
“Got some in the ice chest that fancy fellow brought from the train,” Moira said, and pointed to an oak box sitting in a corner of the kitchen. “Maybe won’t be enough though.”
Samuels hurried over to the chest, opened it and took out two bottles of red liquid. He uncorked the first one and handed it to Brady.
Bevyn’s eyes fluttered open as the smell from the bottle wafted under his nose. He was pale but didn’t appear to be in too much pain as he tried to sit up, but the men wouldn’t allow it, putting their hands on his shoulders to push him gently back down.
“Hold on there,” Healer Murphy ordered. “We’re getting you what you need.” He lifted Bevyn’s head as Brady placed the mouth of the bottle against the Reaper’s lips. No one could watch the blood being consumed. The men and Moira looked everywhere but at the young man swilling down the Sustenance. None of them paid any attention to Annie as she appeared in the doorway, gagging at the sight.
“Damned useless female,” Moira said, not deigning to look toward her hated daughter-in-law.
Samuels handed the second bottle to Brady who gave it to Bevyn as soon as the first was emptied.
38
Reaper’s Revenge
“We’ve got to go after her,” the Reaper insisted.
“Ye ain’t in any condition to go gallivanting about the countryside, lad,” Moira said.
“Cree can’t do it,” Bevyn said, shoving aside the restraining hands that were trying to keep him down. He swung his legs off the table and pushed himself up with a tight grimace on his handsome face. “He and Arawn are in a fire fight.”
“I’ll go with you,” Brady said.
“Me too,” Samuels agreed.
Bevyn shook his head. “I’ll make better time if I fly.”
Every eye there blinked. No one had the nerve to ask what the Reaper meant as he
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