Grant set the brandy and glasses on the table and slipped past the gunman to satisfy himself that Chrysta was okay. Templer watched him intently, but didn't say a word. The barman returned to sit at the table and he poured the amber liqueur with hands that were shaking. The Talon walked over and settled one hip on the window sill. In the shadowed room, all that Grant could see of the man was his tall, dark silhouette, and the subdued gleam of that wicked blade-hand. More disconcerting was the glimmer of eyes that glowed like the coals of a banked fire.
Taking a drink from his glass, the barman hesitated before answering.
“THAT... Was almost a repeat of what happened six years ago. I don't understand the mechanics of it. Chrysta could explain better than I, but if he...” One blunt fingered hand waved toward El Diablo's paddock. “...can catch her while she is emotionally agitated, with her guard down. He can follow the fear or anger into her head and force a link. If she can't get her shields up in time. The fucker can lock HER down in much the same way that Chrysta does it to him.”
The shadowed man's glowing eyes dimmed a little and his talons tapped a restless tattoo on his folded arm.
“So... when I frightened her enough to make her escape out the window, El Diablo took advantage of her distraction?”
This was murmured in a tone loaded with self-loathing.
Azra stirred from the sleep that Templer had forced him into.
“What have I missed?”
The rage from earlier had burnt itself out and the demon sounded infinitely weary.
“WE... were responsible for almost causing another tragedy.”
The gunman's words were short and clipped.
Templer "felt" the Outrider ruffle through his recent memories. Azra flinched as he took in the damaged floor, Grant's troubled face and the woman lying pale and still on the bed.
“I am truly sorry Constantine.”
This was a soft whisper. The priest didn't answer. He had no forgiveness in him, either for Azra, or for himself.
“There is no need to apologize, Azra.”
These words came from the bed.
Chrysta had her eyes closed, but Templer could tell from the increase in her heart rate that she was fully awake. She sighed and those exotic green eyes opened.
“You can't fault a living being that is only being TRUE to its nature.” She slanted a sly glance at Grant and the brandy. “I HOPE you intended some of that for me?”
Grant managed a smile and poured some into the glass that Templer had ignored. He was startled when the other man, moving so quickly and quietly that he just seemed to appear, scooped up the drink... and carried it over to Chrysta. Templer knelt and helped her to take a drink of the rich warm, alcohol. The woman let her fingers linger for a moment on his hand. She didn't try to prevent it when he withdrew.
It was a Talon that rose and stepped back. His stern face was as cold as alabaster.
“So, do you want to give me an official explanation as to why something as dangerous as El Diablo is still walking in the land of the living?"
Chrysta pushed herself up a little on the pillows. She was clearly uncomfortable with having him stand over her. The priest relented to the extent that he retrieved a chair and sat down next to the bed.
“I am sure you realize that El Diablo is one of the "throw backs" that we were discussing earlier. He did NOT choose to submit to human control and was well on his way to the Pits when he killed his trainer.”
Chrysta watched the Talon's reaction carefully. Azra twitched a little but stayed subdued.
“I interfered when his original owner wanted to euthanize him. The stallion became my responsibility at this point. He HATES me with a passion that only an old line destria can achieve. In El Diablo's eyes, I prevented him from being released from a life he finds unbearable. Nuva convinced me to keep trying with him, as he is very, very young in her eyes. She felt he could be recovered. I actually trusted in her judgment when Silver Flame CHOSE to serve Tynan Thranatos. HOLY... those two were MADE for each other."
Chrysta paused, pressing her fingers tight against her temples. Templer wordlessly handed her the glass of brandy.
She took a sip and continued.
“It seemed like we had the problem solved. Silver Flame worshiped Ty. He was content to have Forrest work with him and even tolerated me to an extent. Then the Prince started visiting us less and less. It was okay at first, a young stallion needs time to grow and mature before he is asked to do much. Silver Flame seemed to be content with seeing his chosen sporadically. The last couple of times he came, Thranatos was... differant. He had always been aloof and more than a little cold. But now he became downright fey. He seemed very unstable.
On his last visit, I went out to the barn to take care of the evening chores and found him with one of the barmaids. Mother of Demons Templer... I am pretty sure what he was doing wasn't rape. The girl seemed to be enjoying herself. But pleasure or not, I am positive that if I had not intervened she would have surely died. As it was, her blood loss was life threatening. When I disturbed them, Tynan left her and had me against the wall before I could even blink.”
Chrysta took a long swallow of her brandy and the look she gave Templer was full of questions.
“I KNOW that Tynan is Vamphyrr. This in itself makes him very dangerous. Still up until this point, he had always treated the women at the Ironwood with nothing but polite courtesy. This time... when he looked at me, there was nothing human in his eyes. All I could see was lust and hunger.”
Templer picked up Grant's bottle and refilled her drink.
“That sounds like he was in Rut.”
At her look of confusion, Templer leaned forward and tilted her glass with a gentle finger, making the woman take another drink. He was glad to see a little color returning to her face.
“You and the maid were very lucky to get out of that barn alive. Once every few years vamphyrr, be they male or female, go into Rut. It can come on very sudden and with little warning. The first time or two can make or break them. It takes an iron will to overcome their dragon legacy. If they fail, it will strip any humanity left and replace it with a mindless need for blood and sex. Thranatos is young for a vamphyrr. This may have been his first one. Tynan might not have recognized the signs in time to leave. During the Rut, the hunger for blood and desire for sex become... difficult... to control. Another of their kind can deal with them in this heightened state... most human's don't have the strength required. If they are in the wrong place at the wrong time... they simply die.”
The Talon shrugged as he sat back. This was putting it nicely. More than once he had been called in to deal with rogue vamphyrr. The victims he had seen who had died from simple blood loss had been the lucky ones. A vamphyrr's body could continue long past the point that a human would die from exhaustion. Add to this the fact that many of the breed were NOT gentle lovers... Templer shunted the gruesome memories aside.
“This is one of the reasons that casual mingling within the two races is highly discouraged!”
Chrysta snorted at this dry disclaimer but could not quite bring herself to laugh outright.
“I got lucky. Nuva and Zephyr realized that I was in trouble and they tried to tear the barn down. Forrest and a couple of the prince's guard came out to investigate. It took all three of them to pull him off of me. Tynan departed that night and has not been back since. When he left, the prince broke his bond. El Diablo did not understand and felt he had been betrayed. He quietly went from being just unstable to being completely insane. He does NOT want to live his life under any human's control and constantly searches for a way OUT. Not only is he looking to suicide, but because he knows I had something to do with his bond-mates disappearance, El Diablo would LOVE to drag me into death with him!”
Azra rumbled softly,
“If he is insane and suffering, why do you not... accommodate... him? That would be the humane thing to do.”
Chrysta closed her eyes for a long moment. She absentmindedly turned the glass around and around in her hands. When she glanced back at the still gunman. Her eyes were dark, her face haunted.
“Yes... well... that decision was taken out of our hands six years ago.” She hesitated before continuing.
“El Diablo is only twenty years old. For an old bloodline, he is still considered a baby. Even so he is probably one of the most intelligent destria I have run across. No... He doesn't have the WISDOM that Nuva has, but it would come in time. Now it is just an ability to think and plan. And the bastard DOES plan.”
Grant gave a short humorless laugh. He had finished one glass of brandy and poured a second. He raised an eyebrow at Chrysta and lifted the bottle. She shook her head and handed her empty glass to Templer.
“For a couple of months we thought it was going to work out all right. You had to be careful around him, but no more so than when you are around any breeding stallion. Forrest had gone in to his paddock to deal with routine care and I was out in the courtyard. Standing rule was, no one dealt with him alone."
Grant stirred.
“I... unfortunately, had stepped out for a little while. A fact I am sure El Diablo was aware of.”
Chrysta nodded her agreement.
“Oh yes, HE had been planning this attack probably since the day Thranatos rejected him. El Diablo gave himself enough time he was able to change the chemical composition of his venom.”
Templer's eyebrows arched up.
“They can do that?”
Chrysta flicked a quick look his way.
“Only the old line can. Thank God!” She shuddered. “El Diablo, like Nuva, is well aware of my immunity to regular destria venom. So... he changed his. Forrest never had a chance. He had just finished and was walking towards the gate when El Diablo struck. He hit Forrest with one spur, precisely placed along the full length of his spine, instantly immobilizing him. Then he looked right at me and purposely crushed his victim's leg.
When Forrest screamed, I went right OVER the paddock fence... no gun... no sword. Pure instinct drove me and it was as stupid a move as one could make! Of course... that's what El Diablo intended. He picked up on my anger and fear. Then the bastard followed it right in. He FORCED a link...”
Chrysta's face was as pale as death.
“It is like mental rape. I could not stop him and once he was inside, I could NOT get him out. He... LOCKED... and held me. Then systematically broke every bone in Forrest's body.”
Templer was pinned and held by eyes the color of dead ice.
“Do you remember that little trick that Nuva pulled the other day when she immobilized that man in Rafe's group?”
The priest nodded slowly. Chrysta closed those terrible eyes, thankfully releasing him.
“Be well aware they CAN remove someone's head that way.”
Tears were tracing silent trails down the woman's face when she turned it away from the frozen Talon.
Grant's rough voice picked up the tale where she had to stop.
“I returned to the Inn and came out the back door just as he was rearing over her like he did tonight. In the space of time it took me to get to my gun, he laid her open like he was filleting a fish. By the time I got a shot off the bastard had already done lethal damage to Chrysta."
Templer's brow furrowed in a sudden dark frown.
“You're a Temple guard. If you shot him, he should be dead!”
Chrysta snorted and turned her head back to look fondly at the older man.
“It was one hell of a good shot. Grant "creased" him. That's where you shoot the third spine along a stallion's neck ridge. The shock of the bullet shattering the spine knocks them out.”
Grant solemnly shook his head.
“No it wasn't a good shot. I MISSED my target. I was TRYING to blow his bloody head off. I thought he was dead when I retrieved Chrysta. Thank the Gods I had hexes stock piled as they are scarce in this small town. I couldn't do any kind of real healing because she needed to be surgically put back together. I took stop gap measures. Between that, Nuva, and Dr. Whitet we held her together until I could get hold of one of my contacts and he could get a medical team air lifted to us.”
Grant stopped here, noticing Templer's incredulous look. The big man shrugged self-consciously.
“Hey, I was owed a few favors.”
Azra had been silent through the entire tale. When he did speak up, all the human's in the room flinched at the repressed anger they felt roiling through the still air of the room.
“This still does not explain why that son of a bitch IS... NOT...DEAD!”
Grant's face was grim.
“The High Lord of Hell made it very clear when he arranged the air lift that if anything happened to El Diablo there would be... consequences.”
Temple could only look in astonishment from the big man back to the woman whose fingers were nervously plucking at the edge of the quilt that covered her. He had wrongly assumed the man had called in favors owed by the Order. Chrysta met his eyes squarely.
“The surgeons who were charged with saving my life had their hands full. El Diablo's altered venom stripped the outer sheath off of the nerves along the wound. There was no way to alleviate the pain this caused. Add to that the emotional trauma and I just really didn't WANT to live. It is really hard to keep someone alive when they keep pulling out all the tubes, wires and stitches. After the third time in surgery to repair the damage I caused to myself, I got a visit from the Crown Prince's father. HE made it very clear he felt El Diablo was my responsibility. If I died, there would be no one to care for him.”
For a moment her eyes gleamed impishly.
“I proceeded to tell the insufferable bastard that he could go fuck himself sideways!”
The priest's lips twitched involuntarily. He could just imagine the powerful Vamphyrr-Lord's response to that.
She saw his reaction.
“Yes... it was almost worth it to see the look on his face.”
The gleam faded.
“Then he informed me of the consequences if I died, or if something "unnatural" were to happen to Silver Flame.”
The look that Chrysta gave the gunman was perplexed.
“My head couldn't believe that he would go through with the threat, but my heart told me he was deadly serious. I worked VERY hard at staying alive after his visit.”
Templer felt a chill run through him.
“What where these... consequences?”
Grant got up and gathered the brandy bottle and empty glasses.
“He said, he would raze the town of Edgewater to the ground.”
Chrysta watched silently as Grant slipped out of the door then turned questioning eyes on the quiet Talon.
“Would he have?”
Templer winced. He remembered what history taught about the Head of House Dracul... before the Cataclysm. He told her the truth.
“Yes... rest assured that if you or El Diablo had died, Lord Vlad would have brought all that he is down on this town. The High Lord of Hell does not bluff!”
Templer rose and went to stand by the window. He watched as El Diablo prowled the perimeter of his paddock and thought about what had almost happened this night.
“I cannot believe you have dealt with this for six years!”
She answered the unspoken question that she heard in his voice.
“Hmmm... well...Grant would still kill him in a heartbeat if he thought he could get away with it. I have learned that you can't fault a creature for being true to its nature. I have also begun to understand why he is the way he is. There are fewer and fewer of the old bloodlines cropping up. I see and understand Nuva's fear of losing her heritage entirely. It is my hope to someday be able to somehow... acquire... enough land that I can just turn him out with a few old blood mares to keep him in line and let them live their lives in peace. With age comes wisdom and if we could give him a chance to not HATE and rage all the time, he might still come around.”
Chrysta studied the priest for a moment sharp eyes noting the tenseness in his lines. She smiled and patted the bed next to her in a silent invitation.
“I am sorry Chrysta,” Templer's deep voice was no more than a soft whisper.
“I need to be alone... to think.”
Something flickered in her eyes and the smile saddened a little. She wiggled herself down into the quilt before closing her eyes.
“It's okay Constantine. I understand.”
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Link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/fiction/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-29