To race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 36

“You... what...?”

This came out a stunned whisper. Templer remembered Azra being very clear you NEVER actually ingest the leaf. If the dead silence from the darkness within didn't fill him with foreboding. The stricken look on Grant's face did.

The priest dug at his outrider. Azra became very quiet and very still.

“Azra... how do you treat an overdose?”

The demon growled unhappily.

“You... DON'T!”

The Talon's heart froze.

“Grant, maybe you should get Dr. Whitet?”

The big bartender shook his head slowly,

“He won't be any help. By now he is plastered. He would have to sedate her into a coma to avoid what's coming. The man does not have the strength or the equipment that type of support requires.”

The gunman glanced down at the quiet, pale woman he had cradled against his chest.

“Azra, what are we dealing with?”

The outrider rumbled quietly,

“Any time now, Chrysta will start seizing. It will get progressively worse until something, most likely her heart, gives out. Given the condition she is in...” Azra hummed softly in misery. “Ah Constantine... your friend will not make it in time.”

Templer didn't have a chance to respond in any way. He felt an odd tremor pass through Chrysta and her eyes flickered open.

“Oh HOLY...” She whimpered. “Any of you can shoot me now.”

Her pupils blew until they covered the green, making the woman's eyes seem solid black. Then Chrysta's body arched against his, muscles jumping and quivering. This first one only lasted a few seconds but the priest could feel her heart hammering and stuttering against his chest when it ended.

As she slowly relaxed, Azra gently prompted the gunman.

“HOST... you need to make sure she does not swallow her tongue.”

The Talon nodded. He used sharp talons to slice a strip off the thick leather of the gun belt that held her beautiful gun. Chrysta's eyelids fluttered open at the sound and he knew the woman was at least partially aware of her surroundings when her brow arched up and her lips quirked as if to say... what... now you are cutting my clothes into PIECES?

Templer gently pried her jaw open. Her green eyes widened a little at the strange feel of his fingers in her mouth. He pushed her tongue down, slipped the strap in and closed her teeth on the leather. The priest cupped his flesh hand firmly under the woman's chin, holding her mouth shut so she could not spit it out.

Again the only warning Templer got was Azra's terse...

“GET READY...” And that odd tremor. This time the seizure lasted longer. When it was finished, Templer had to roll the woman to the side. Grant worked to clear the frothy blood from her airway before she choked.

When the gunman braced Chrysta back against his chest, she was unresponsive.

“There has got to be SOMETHING we can do to help her.”

Templer did not like being in the position of total helplessness.

Azra rumbled a deep sigh,

“Constantine... You will not like this. There is only one way for this to end. We could make it easier on Chrysta and help her out of this world.”

Templer realized what his outrider was suggesting. His arms unconsciously tightened around the woman's still form.

“It's okay... Host. Of all the times we have removed innocent souls from this world, this would be the time it would be forgivable.”

Templer knew in his heart that Azra was right. All of the Tainted souls that they had removed from this world in the course of following orders against this single one... it should have been easy. Constantine realized that even one more soul was one to many. Especially this particular one. He was tired to death of being a Reaper.

“I can't do it Azra!”

“I know you can't.” The demon's voice was very soft. “But I... can. Let me out Templer... you need not have any part in this.”

Without warning, the third seizure hit. This time there was little break in between. Templer could feel Chrysta's ribs grinding as Grant helped while the priest struggled to hold her. As Chrysta's body slowly relaxed, her racing heart faltered and skipped. Templer watched the barman gently clear her airway again. He silently accepted the fact she couldn't last the remaining half hour it would take for Sig to reach them. He steeled his heart and prepared to release his outrider. He would not let his selfish soul be the cause of any more pain. A soft nose bumped him hard enough to stop the process. The gunman felt Nuva lay down behind him. Both her and Zephyr were loudly crooning. Chrysta's heart rate responded by becoming stronger. The uneven rhythm steadied.

A familiar itch built behind Templer's eyes.

“Darkfire... we hold her essence here! We do not have the strength to alssso shelter her.” Nuva sounded... strained. “One must ssstay and hold... the other must join with usss.”

Templer hesitated in confusion. He gave a quick rundown of what the mare was saying to an even more confused Grant.

Andrew overheard and came forward. The young man was in tears.

“I think Nuva means that you need to change. When you become that... demon thing, your consciousness goes somewhere else. They want YOU to go with them and leave the demon form here.”

Nuva nudged the Talon's shoulder.

“The shadow... knowsss... his heart. He MUST be the anchor. The flame shall be her shield.”

Constantine felt the odd tremor that preceded a seizure and didn't hesitate. He faded back as Azra pushed forward. Before the Talon gave up total control, he snarled a warning.

“AZRA... You need to let this play out to the end. Don't you do anything... PERMANENT. No matter what happens!”

“UNDERSTOOD!” The outrider growled. “Now HURRY!”

As he finished the change, Azra was hard pressed to hold Chrysta's convulsing body without hurting her. He wrapped his wings around her like a full length blanket and used their strength to help keep her from tearing herself up inside.
This seizure did not want to let up. The destria's croon picked up a desperate note. The demon snarled softly.

“Come ON... Constantine! Whatever you are going to do... you need to do it NOW!”

Azra suddenly realized for the first time since he had been implanted, he could not feel his human host at all. Templer Constantine was totally gone.

Templer floated in the velvet dark as he had before when Nuva had spoken to him. The same blackened chain twisted and spun before him. He noticed that the tarnished strand was gone. Looking back, he could see the glowing gem forming the anchor at the end of the chain. All the darkness that had been held within the stone now flowed around him like living shadows. The Talon realized that instead of having a body here, he was nothing but ebony flame.

Up ahead, the darkness was lit by a gentle glow. This light pulsed with all the colors of life. There were images held within of a beautiful place. These shifted and disappeared. They seemed tantalizingly close yet at the same time were impossibly far away. Voices wove through the brightness in an eerie song. They promised joy. They promised glory. They promised peace.

The essence that was Chrysta was trying to reach this glorious place. This was being prevented by a wall of woven blue on gold energy. Time and again she came against it and every time it gently pushed her back. As the Talon approached, Chrysta was under attack by what looked like nothing more than a carpet of crackling lightening. This hostile force rolled over her diamond-like essence. Energy tendrils flashed and burned as it covered her. These knocked loose small wisps of sparkling light and vaporized them. Templer realized that because her destria were preventing her life force from leaving, the woman's soul was being torn apart a piece at a time. He and Azra had done much the same thing many, many times. When they destroyed a Tainted, body and soul... they prevented it from reaching this final peace.

Templer increased his speed. Like hell if he would stand by while someone he cared for was destroyed in this way! He slid his essence between hers and the lightning. With the first strike he realized that the licking bolts were made out of intense, fiery pain. He felt Chrysta roll underneath him, trying to break for the light again. The priest tightened his energy until it formed a shield of ebony strength that she couldn't escape. The fiery bolts still penetrated and passed through him, but his energy insulated hers. He absorbed a lot of the terrible pain before it could reach its mark.

The Talon's time spent under the cruel hands of his Maker's had taught him all he would ever need to know about... enduring. He closed his mind and hunkered down. Templer would ride this out and protect her until either Sig made it or they BOTH burned down to nothingness.

Azra breathed a small sigh of relief when the woman he cradled in his arms and wings stopped convulsively thrashing. Small tremors still ran through her body, but whatever his host and her destria were doing, it was helping. Grant cleared Chrysta's airway again and wiped the blood off of her face. When the big man went to return the leather to her mouth, the demon stopped him.

“I don't think we need that now. She will breathe easier without it.”

Andrew came forward to give the bartender a clean towel and a new strip of leather. Just in case. He flinched when the outrider shot him a cold, gold eyed glare.

“This... DEMON thing... has a name. It is Azra. You do not have any excuse after this to call me by anything other than that!”

The young man swallowed hard and nodded. Grant gave the boy a sympathetic look and glanced sideways at the dark form next him.

Azra growled softly and looked away.

“I HATE that title. I may not remember exactly WHAT I am... but I am NOT a demon!”

They sat in silence as the dark of night descended. The two destria, the two men, and one large dark demon cradling the quiet woman did not know what a... odd... sight they made. Twenty minutes passed when Templer's Cricket chirped.

Azra could hear the roaring scream of the ship's Tengshe pushed to their limits underscored by the crude mouth of the Wind-Master, along with the sounds of alarms.

“Devil be DAMNED! I don't care WHAT the fuck is causing it... Just fricken FIX IT!” Then... “We are just outside of the shit-hole you call a town. Give me some kinda damned signal so I can find your sorry asses!”

Azra had already calculated that IF the pilot was as good as he maintained, he should be able to set his ship down on the field that held the race track. It would be a tight fit, but it was close to where they were. Pumping one closed fist into the air the outrider released a short bolt of energy. This gave the pilot a flare of sorts. A few seconds later the roar of the enslaved elementals that powered the great WindClipper filled the air.

The Captain's voice came over the Cricket.

“Holy SHIT! Why don't ya just give me a shitten postage stamp to land on!?”

The outrider motioned at the Bug and Grant held it up for him,

“Shut UP Wind-rider! Retrieve your balls from where ever they are hiding and land that thing. We are running out of time!”

There was absolute silence on the other end. Then...

“Uh... shit! Temp?”

Azra snarled.

“It is Templer... not Temp! And NO... this is the bat winged fucker from HELL!”

“Oh... well... where the hell is Temp... um... ler?” The pilot was delicately maneuvering the ship down as he spoke.

“Constantine is... occupied... at the moment. Now shut UP and pay attention to what you are doing!”

Azra had real concerns for the buildings at the far end of the track. Even El Diablo raised his weary head to watch with interest.

As the ship settled, the outrider had to give the foul mouthed, brash human a degree of respect. He set the big WindClipper down without touching any of the structures that were just inches away in a couple of places. The demon sighed, Templer would NEVER hear the end of it from the obnoxious man.

“There is a damned medical bay set up in my forward cargo hold. The doc's that the Saint sent are already heading out.”

Yep, the man's cannabis coarsened voice was definitely sounding smug.

The small group met the medics halfway. Again, the outrider had to admit that some humans seemed to have more than their share of courage. (or foolishness) The physician in the lead paled, but didn't flinch as Azra laid the woman's still body on the stretcher. It was with reluctance that he stepped back releasing responsibility to them. He had to remind himself that the Saint would send no one that reported to the Hand. Of the Captain he had no doubts. That one would burn with his ship before he betrayed his friends.

The stars caught Azra's golden eyes as he stepped back. The sound of Grant explaining what was going on deadened as the demon realized he was looking at his freedom. All he had to do was break the chain that tethered Constantine to his body. Azra's Bindings would not stop him; the host had abandoned this vessel willingly. The Talon would not die but with his other in sole possession of his body... the man's soul would be forever trapped in limbo. Azra rationalized that Templer would prefer this to the life he had. The human would have his heart's desire and he would be free.

“A-Azra?”

A soft hesitant voice along with a warm hand stroking his wing, pulled the dark one out of his thoughts. Andrew was beside him. The boy tried to push him to follow as the medical group made their way to the ship. The doctors were already pumping sedatives into Chrysta and were inserting an airway for her on the run.

Azra slashed a hard golden eyed glare at the young man while lifting his lips in a savage snarl.

The man paled but held his ground.

“You need to go with her. Chrysta will need you when she wakes up.”

Whether he knew it or not, Andrew's hand was slowly stoking that dark soft wing. (OH MY GODS! His reputation was ruined when young men were so unafraid that they dared to PET him!)

The fire died in the golden eyes that stared into the young man's face. Azra realized that the courageous youth was right. Nuva had KNOWN what she was talking about. This shadow knew his heart... he WAS the anchor.

Azra sent his consciousness spinning down that fragile black chain. As he intertwined with it... Azra could feel that his host was nearing the end of his strength. Although the storm he defended against was losing its hold, Templer did not have the reserves to return. The outrider sent a tendril of strength to the Talon's essence. For a moment the smooth shield would not let him in. Then it recognized its partner. The ebony fire sluggishly contracted. Wavering... it linked up and weakly allowed Azra to tow it home.

The outrider noticed as they withdrew, that the destria's wall was fading. Nuva and Zephyr were also retreating, their strength almost spent. The subdued gleaming essence that was Chrysta did not stir towards Heaven's Gate. Her brilliant scintillating colors were gone, the gem barely lit. She was held to life by artificial means now. Azra reached the medical bay just as the doctors whisked the comatose woman off to surgery. Infinite weariness filled the outrider's limbs. Before he allowed the shift, he turned to the young man at his side.

His golden eyes held Andrew's with a stern gaze.

“Constantine will be in rough shape when he awakens. Do NOT under ANY circumstances allow the white coats to... handle... him. That could get very messy, very fast! Do you understand?”

Andrew, his eyes wide just nodded.

With a sigh of relief, Azra triggered his shift. Grant and Andrew gently caught the limp body of Templer Constantine as he collapsed into their arms.
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Link to next Chapter
https://steemit.com/life/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-37