To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 11

Templer rolled over and propped himself up against the nightstand. It crossed the priest's mind that he was lucky he hadn't brained himself on the heavy wood in his sudden flight to the floor. Chrysta remained seated with her back against the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. Concern warred with amusement in her eyes as she studied him. The gunman felt more than a little concern himself. The woman's tanned face was pale. There were tiny lines of pain around her eyes and mouth.

“Holy... I am sorry Chrysta.”

The priest was overwhelmed with guilt. He lived with the constant fear of losing control and hurting a friend. This seemed to have finally happened.

“Are you okay?”

Chrysta's face creased into a sudden, warm smile.

“Constantine, you have nothing to apologize for. I am well aware you do NOT disturb someone in the middle of a night terror episode. You seemed so distressed that I ignored what I know and touched you anyways. Technically if there is any fault, it is mine.”
The woman shifted position and a fleeting grimace marred her smile.
Templer wasn't willing to release his guilt that easily,

“I hurt you. That is unforgivable.”

The smile disappeared to be replaced by a slight frown.

“I am not injured. There is NOTHING to forgive!”

“She is in pain and not admitting it. Templer, be tactful. You do NOT want to trigger her temper. You have NO idea what she might do!”

Azra sounded worried. The gunman again wondered what had happened between the two of them the previous night.

“I can tell you are in pain. Where did I hurt you?”

This earned him a derisive snort.

“You big ninny! In case you haven't noticed, I am ALWAYS in pain. I usually get a chance to warm things up and stretch them out before I start wrestling, then riding personages who are bigger than me!”

Her eyes had a wicked twinkle in them. To his horror, Templer felt a blush creep up his cheeks. Damn it, what was with this woman that she had him blushing more in the last few days than he had in the last eighty years?

** “Really Host... you learned to be tactful... WHERE?”**

His outrider was again consumed by uncontrollable snickers

“By all that is Holy, Constantine. I am SOOO glad you decided to come here. I cannot remember the last time I have had this much fun!”

The gunman leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He had decided that this time there was no need for guilt when Chrysta's next words registered on his already bruised ego.

“Maybe I am the one who should apologize? I am afraid I wasn't very gentle, yanking you out of bed that way. Are YOU okay?”

His eyes popped open to look into her totally innocent face.

“OH NO... Too much... THIS IS GOING TO KILL ME!”

Azra sounded like he was choking. Templer entertained the dark thought that MAYBE the demon would laugh himself to death.

“I am fine.” the priest's voice was a flat monotone.

“In that case, why don't you get your fine butt off of the floor and help me up.”

Chrysta smile softened the sting to his wounded pride. Templer just shook his head. With a much put upon sigh, he got up and extended his hand to his smiling companion. He might as well just give up now. It was evident that between her and Azra, he was well and truly screwed!

The woman took his hand in her strong grip and he steadied her as she levered herself up. The Talon couldn't help but wince in sympathy at the first couple of staggering steps she took. He found it hard to believe that this was the same woman who had just moved with such speed and grace. He finally gave into his curiosity. It should have been impossible for an un-Tainted human to immobilize him that easily.

“Where did you learn that little trick?”

“Hmmm... that?” Chrysta waved her hand in the direction of the bed. “I make a living working with creatures that outweigh me by a couple of thousand pounds. There are times when speed, surprise, and knowing how to use leverage are all that separate me from being the trainer or becoming a destria's dinner.”

She turned to look at him just before entering the washroom,

“Let's just say that it comes with the territory.”

Templer's well-trained intuition told him that this was not the whole story and his outrider agreed with him.

“She just told a half truth. There is more to it than that.”

The Talon wavered for a moment, caught between wanting to push the point and the sudden fear that somehow the woman was an unregistered Drow. Azra stirred and Templer was surprised when the demon did not automatically test her in reaction to his suspicion. He was again taken aback when the bathroom door opened just enough for Chrysta to stick her head through. The sharp scent of dreamleaf wafted out on the warm, damp air.

“That explanation is not going to satisfy you or the... other... lurking around in your mind, is it?”

She met his glowing gaze without fear or apology.

Stunned, all he could do was shake his head.

“I... Do... NOT... LURK!”

The outrider sounded offended.

“Shut up, Azra.”

Templer sat on the demon as Azra sputtered in outrage. He wanted to hear what the woman had to say.

Chrysta gave a small nod.

“Listen, let me finish here, then we can go down and watch the morning workouts. That's where you are going to pick your winners, not off of the racing forms. I have a dressage demonstration this afternoon that you are welcome to watch if you would like. We can meet up this evening and I will truthfully answer whatever questions you might have on the condition that you answer a few of my own.”

The smile she gave him seemed a little sad.

“Do we have a deal?”

Templer thought hard about it for a moment. He doubted she would be happy with the arrangement. It was impossible for him to talk about his Making or most of his actions as a Talon. His Vows of Silence were powerful Bindings. They would burn his mind to ash before allowing him to speak of forbidden things. Add to this the occasional forced trip to the labs to have his brains stirred around and you had a recipe for mental goulash. Since he had no reliable memories of before taking his Vows... the priest did not have much of a story he could tell. Azra had even less of a tale. The outrider was bound by Vows even stronger than his host's. An elemental was called into being by a Summons. Whereas Azra was vastly different than any elemental Templer had ever seen... the priest doubted that the energy being even HAD a life before their bonding.

“I believe Chrysta knows quite a bit about us as it is Constantine, What harm could it do?”

The outrider did have a point. Their Binding prevented them from telling the woman anything that might put her in jeopardy. Still... some of the atrocities that he had been called upon to commit were public knowledge... no matter how hard the Hand worked to cover them up. Chrysta was smart and very capable of putting two and two together.

“I know Azra, and it shouldn't matter, but I like her and Grant. I do not want to be rejected by them when they realize they are harboring a monster under their roof.”

Templer knew that the demon could sense the weight of seldom acknowledged emotion behind his thoughts.

“Templer, believe it or not, I too would feel... pain if Chrysta chooses to reject us. Have you not considered that she might be experiencing some of these same fears? If she is even slightly Tainted and has not stood to be Tested... she would be taking a deadly risk!” The outrider's rough voice was thoughtful. “Besides, I think she might be a little more open minded than you are aware!”

“Well?”

Chrysta's husky voice jerked him back to awareness. She was watching him, one chestnut brow arched up.

“Sooo, have the two of you come to an agreement, do we have a deal?”

Templer's brows crawled up his forehead like they had a life of their own.

“We have a deal.”

The Talon had decided he was going to learn her secrets if it killed him.

“UMMM, Templer... DO you remember the LAST deal you made with that woman? I seem to recall, stitches, blood, destria bites and kicks...” {And one really sweet kiss} This last thought Azra kept well isolated from the rest.

The gunman stared hard at the now closed bathroom door. CRAP... How did she know just what buttons to push to get him to agree to do these things? HE was a Talon... HE was supposed to be trained to deal with that kind of manipulation! With a sigh, the priest gathered up the shirt he had dropped the night before. He shot the door one more dirty look and then headed down the stairs to see if Grant had any much needed coffee prepared.

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link to next chapter

https://steemit.com/fiction/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-12