To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 37

Templer woke to darkness. More frightening than this, he woke to the terrifying smells of the Healer's Sect. He was lying on a bed in a small curtained off alcove. The Talon could hear the sound of people arguing. As he listened he forced his tired body to relax. He had to work to suppress the natural instinct that was telling him to get the hell out of there!

He could identify Andrew's voice. The young stable hand sounded angry but was attempting to keep his volume down.

“I don't care who you are... I don't CARE about the Saint. I have... ORDERS... to not let ANY Doctors mess with him.” Templer heard the young man mutter, “And the person who gave me that order is a HELL of a lot scarier than you!”

Constantine levered his protesting body out of the bed. If the boy knew anything about the Saint, he might think differently. The Talon picked the Trinity out of its holster. Staggering over, he silently stuck his head through the curtain. Andrew had his back to him. Andrew was preventing a medic from passing. The medic had two burly interns (thugs) with him and was threatening to have them remove the young man.

The Talon was quietly amused when Andrew snorted derisively and his body took on a fighting stance. He looked and sounded fierce enough that the orderly's hesitated.

“Listen, asshole! I deal with two thousand pound, hoofed, horned, and let’s not forget FANGED, meat eating devils with poisonous spurs EVERY day. I am still here to tell you about it! If you THINK you can get by me... bring it on!”

Templer silently lifted the big gun and aimed it in their direction. Both interns paled when they got a good look down its triple bores. The gunman put his finger to his lips and motioned slightly with the long barrels, indicating that they should leave. The men complied with haste. Andrew relaxed his aggressive stance with a soft, tired sigh.

The exhausted priest had managed to make his shaky way halfway back to the bed when Andrew appeared at his side. Wrapping a strong arm around him the boy helped Templer the rest of the way. He eased the gunman back down on the bed. The stable hand admonished him the entire time that Constantine should in no way be trying to get up until he got some rest. The Talon's lips quirked. What was with Chrysta that she attracted men with the dreaded M.H. T’s? At this thought, his memory of the past day's events flooded in and the man struggled to sit back up against Andrew's remarkably strong hands.

The gunman was a little surprised to find he was so weak that the young man managed to pin him on the bed.

“Damn it! Constantine... listen! Chrysta isn't even out of surgery yet. Azra said that you need to REST.”

Templer was exhausted. He was in no small amount of pain and heavily stressed by being even this close to a medical bay. He reacted to being restrained mostly out of instinct. Andrew froze, sucking in a breath as the Trinity's cold muzzle pressed against the soft skin under his jaw.

“WHOA... Constantine... back OFF! I LIKE this boy. He has... Spunk! Damn it HOST... STAND DOWN!!”

Azra realized what was happening and he managed to freeze his overwrought host's muscles before the man did anything... permanent. His deep growl softened.

“I am weary; your strength is totally spent. PLEASE Templer... go... to... sleep!”

Andrew saw uncertainty flicker in the Talon's eyes. He slowly reached up to slide his hand down the barrels of the big gun. He just as slowly eased it away from his throat. The boy just caught the heavy weapon as Templer let his suddenly limp hand fall. The stable hand could tell that the priest was fighting the overwhelming need to sleep. He patted the lean, long fingered hand laying on the blanket.

“It's OKAY! Between Grant, Captain Sig, and myself... NOBODY is going to disturb you. I will personally make sure you are awake when they bring Chrysta out.”

The young man's eyes never left the tired, pale face. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks when Templer's long black eyelashes fluttered down to cover his unearthly black and gold eyes. The man was finally asleep.

It was eight hours before the surgery team finished. It was another two before they considered the injured woman stable enough to allow anyone to see her. Andrew ignored his exhaustion, staying so he could be with the Windrider when they cautiously woke Templer up.

The head of the surgery team met them before they reached the curtained partition that held Chrysta's bed. The space was crowded with a myriad of life support machines. The healers that were linked to both her and the bio-machines were nothing but faceless shadows in the dark. Grant rather belatedly joined them.

The physician cleared his throat nervously.

“We repaired most of the internal damage. The patient lost a rather large amount of blood because of it. With our support, her system seems to be handling this without too much difficulty. If it were all we are dealing with our acolytes could perform a Blessing and everyone could go home. Unfortunately, we have run into a problem. The substance that the patient overdosed on has insinuated itself into her nerve cells. It is over stimulating them and causing excruciating pain. At the same time this has stripped her body's ability to protect itself against the pain.”

Templer did not like the way the Healer referred to Chrysta as... the patient... rather than using her name. He growled,

“And this means?”

The physician flinched at the dislike in the deep voice. He rubbed a tired hand over his face. He was NOT telling this frightening man how close they had come to losing the woman the first time they had tried to bring her up out of the drug induced coma.

“We are NOT dealing with an earthly substance. None of us is willing to try a Sanctioned healing while she has a product from Hell infiltrating her system. It is taking all our acolytes can give to keep her pain levels bearable... WHILE SHE IS DRUGGED! Every time we try to reduce the sedation and wake her, these levels increase until her body tries to seize again. We can't think of any way to purge the toxin from her system. All we can do is keep her sedated with the hope that, if given sometime and support, her body will flush the drug out itself.”

The Healer hastily left with instructions to get him if there was ANY change. Grant silently visited the bedside for a few moments. He could not stay he quickly explained. The man had been late because Don Ricardo had called a town meeting. It seemed that Don Diego was trying to squirm his way out of paying up on the bet by insisting that his son had overstepped his authority in making the wager in the first place. Templer had to figuratively "SIT" on Azra as the outrider's rage combined with his own rolled like a tide through his mind. Templer knew that his body could NOT deal with another Shift this soon.

Seeing the look on Constantine's usually inexpressive face, Grant hastily grabbed his shoulder.

“No... She needs BOTH of you to HERE! The Don's don't take lightly when one of their own acts without honor. Chrysta has many people in this town who care for her and WE will make sure Diego doesn't get away with this.”

After he left, Templer settled one hip on the edge of the bed. He slid his hand under Chrysta's, which was lying cold and still on the covers. The Talon tried very hard to ignore the wires and invasive tubes that were keeping her alive. He refused to look at the silent forms of the Acolytes whose Tainted abilities provided the strength her body lacked. It did not help to tell himself over and over that this had NOTHING in common with the experiences in his life. She was not being tortured.

“Azra, what are the chances that her body can purge itself?”

The outrider took a long time to answer and Templer knew before he did, he would not like it.

“I told you before Constantine. There is only one way for this to end. You should have allowed me to do something... permanent... while you were unawares.” The words were hard... in contrast to the demon's voice which was infinitely gentle. “I am sorry... Templer.”

It was just... too... much! Constantine surged off of the bed, savagely shoving Azra... DOWN... as far as he could. The Talon strode out of the medical bay. He needed to get away from the oppressive machines. He needed to escape his fear of being there. Most of all, he needed to outrun the overwhelming emotions that crashed against the crumbling walls he maintained around his heart. Templer staggered off of the ship into bright sunshine. He winced at the sudden itching, burning head ache that slammed him behind the eyes. Azra tried to claw his way up but even this faded under the piercing pain and the dull buzzing that accompanied it. Together... it flat shut his mind down.

A little while later, Sig stepped out of the shadowed hatch. He had seen Templer blow by, visibly upset. The Windrider was surprised that the man had controlled his extreme dislike of anything related to Sanctioned Medicine as long as he had. It said something about how the introverted Talon must feel towards the injured woman his... companion... had called them in for. The Captain gave him some time to collect himself then went out to check on his friend.

As he lit his ever present smoke, the man's sharp eyes traveled over the animal pens that his Clipper was parked amongst. He burnt his fingers when he saw where Constantine was. Sig had been warned to stay away from the paddock that housed a massive silver, black striped beast. He hadn't needed the warning. Any dumb ass could see the sharp black fangs and evil eye the animal possessed. That is why it horrified him to see the shadow clad form of his friend INSIDE the paddock. The Talon was kneeling in front of the animal's dangerous sharp spurred front legs. Its heavy ridged, horned head was level with the man's, the dagger fanged mouth almost touching his pale cheek.

“SHIT...!”

Sig moved slowly towards the fence. He did not want to startle anyone, but maybe he could distract the creature from its intended victim.

Blood on shadows. This strange thought looped over and over again in the Talon's sluggish mind.

“HOST...” a sharp hiss penetrated the fog he couldn't seem to shake from his head.

The gunman muttered.

“It’s TEMPLER...” Then his malfunctioning brain registered the ice green eye starring into his along with the black on silver striped legs he was kneeling in front of.

Oh SHIT... was his first immediate thought.

It was chased away by Azra's,

“Do... you... THINK! Don't make any fast moves... keep everything calm.”

Templer realized that his gun hand was around the base of El Diablo's very sharp spur. A drop of blood red venom had gathered on its razor tip. As he watched, the shimmering liquid solidified in the warm, dry air. It dropped to join three identical ruby "gems" nestled in his blade-hand's black palm. It looked just like four drops of blood caught against a midnight shadow.

A voice like the kiss of thunder, echoed through his mind.

“HAVE THE WOMAN... INGEST... ONE OF THESE.”

The cadence of the words sounded... young. But the Talon had the sudden impression of a granite mountain that was being up thrust. One day, if given the chance, this creature would be a force to be reckoned with. As El Diablo acquired age he would become like that massive granite peak. He would never yield. Like the mountain he would be powerful enough that mighty storms would run up against him and stop in their tracks! Constantine understood why Nuva had been so insistent on saving this one.

The Talon realized he did not have full control of his body yet. Those feral eyes flashed with... amusement... and SOMETHING forced his flesh hand up. He found himself vigorously scratching the soft skin under the collar that rode behind that solid, horned ridge. El Diablo sighed in pleasure and closed his eyes. Then he released his "lock" letting Templer go. The priest slowly eased up and staggered back. Strong hands reached through the gate and YANKED him out of the paddock.

“Mother of FUCKING demons! What the SHIT do you think you’re doing? Have you gone Fricken INSANE in the week you've been here?”

The excitable pilot had the spider-silk cloak bunched in his fists and was shaking the Talon as he shouted. This did not help his splitting head ache at all. He managed to close his hand over those precious drops so as not to lose them.

Templer freed himself from the Captain's rough grasp.

“It's okay Sig and yes... I think I have probably gone insane over the course of this week.”

The man held an internal conference with Azra as they studied the gleaming little drops.

“What do you think, we know there is no love lost between him and Chrysta?”

His headache spiked,

“I DO NOT DO THIS FOR... HER!” There was still dislike in the feelings that accompanied these words. The ice green eyes glinted wickedly at them.

“I DO NOT DO IT FOR THE FLAME! IT IS DONE FOR THE SHADOW WITHIN... THE ONE WHO IS MY BROTHER IN SPIRIT.”
Azra cursed.

“I am NOT a demon!”

El Diablo shook his head and chortled.

“THIS IS TRUE... YOU ARE A SHADOW OF WHAT YOU ONCE WERE.”

Templer could feel his outrider's utter surprise.

“Do you know what... ARRHH!”

The forbidden question triggered Azra's bindings.

“Whoa... SHIT!”

Sig's strong arms supported him as Templer sank to his knees. Both of the priest's hands clenched against his head as Constantine shared in the agony that blasted through his partner.

A deep croon intruded, pushing the pain down to bearable levels.

“I CANNOT BE THE ONE TO BREAK YOUR CHAINS. FIND MY BONDMATE...HE WILL KNOW HOW TO HELP.”

The silver's soft croon died out... his last words when he withdrew seemed almost wistful.

“PLEASE... WHEN YOU FIND HIM. TELL HIM... I STILL WAIT.”

With Sig's help, Templer regained his feet. The Windrider stirred the ruby gems with a careful finger when his friend recovered enough to explain what had happened.

“Hell... Temp. My strength lies within the Air and Wind. I can't fricken tell ya if these are the poison or the cure. What does Batly think?”

Azra flinched at the new nickname... but did not complain. It was better than... demon.

“I cannot see as how it could hurt. Chrysta WILL die if we do nothing.”

Templer sent Andrew to get Grant. If this did not work the bartender would want to say his good byes. They found themselves a few minutes later trying to explain to the doctor why he needed to bring his... patient... up out of the coma. It was important to remove the ventilator so she could swallow. The physician argued with them for a good ten minutes before Azra lost ALL patience and snatched control for a moment. The Trinity appeared in Templer's hand. With hot golden eyes he stared the frightened man down as he pulled back the hammers.

“DO IT!”

“Fine... anything that happens is on YOUR head...” The healer muttered. “I should at least have a crash team here if this doesn't work.”

Azra moved back but before he did he murmured,

“IF this does not work... no crash team will be necessary.”

Templer didn't contradict him.

The physician hastily made some adjustments on the blinking machines that helped to keep Chrysta comatose. He then nodded at one of the motionless Acolytes. This man must have been highly ranked to be aware enough to communicate. The linked healers moved close enough lay hands on the motionless woman. They would serve as buffers as long as they could ride out the pain. All watched tensely as her pain levels started to rise. It was not long and she blinked. Chrysta's eyes opened then narrowed as her discomfort grew. The shadowed gaze drifted over to the silent form of the waiting Talon. He responded to the bewilderment in them by kneeling next to her. Templer ran his fingers through the short, chestnut hair and spoke quietly in her ear.

“I know you hurt. Be still if you can. We need you to keep some control if only for a little while.”

One by one the healers dropped out of the link... unable to bear the increasing agony. Before the healer was ready to pull the ventilator, only the highest ranked Acolyte still held his position. He reached the end of his strength too soon... collapsing as tremors traveled over Chrysta in waves. The woman held on to the gunman's hand and silently fought her body's desire to seize up with all of her iron will. A stern look from golden eyes had the surgeon pulling the tube before he really wanted to. As soon as Chrysta quit gagging and coughing, Templer pressed on her chin to open her mouth and dropped one blood red jewel in. The Talon was glad he held that lovely mouth closed when he saw the expression that crossed her face. He was pretty sure if he hadn't, Chrysta would have spit it right out.

A corner of his mouth twitched up as Azra spoke out.

“Don't make us sit on you... woman!”

Somehow she swallowed the bitter pill.

For too long the only sounds were the frantic beeping of the monitors, Chrysta's pained gasps, and a softly hummed... lullaby? Templer couldn't believe what he was hearing. This last came from AZRA! If forced to admit it... Templer would agree that the gentle tune... WAS soothing. Chrysta closed her eyes and seemed to get a little relief from it. After what seemed an eternity, the woman released a long sigh. The frightening tremors backed off. The outrider let his humming trail off as the red lined monitors changed to green.

Chrysta tiredly opened her eyes. Her words were hoarse but like music to the Talon's ears.

“GODS! That tasted NASTY! Worse than dreamleaf. I really hope you brought some coffee to wash it...” She shifted a little and winced. Her eyelids were already drooping.

“Hey...!” She murmured, “Azra... don't stop. That was... nice.” The outrider picked up his tune and continued until she was asleep.
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