To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 31

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Templer tried to work as quickly as possible. He had steeled himself to be emotionless. He knew from experience that having those ribs and muscles compressed would be excruciatingly painful. The priest couldn't ignore Chrysta's soft hiss of pain as he tightened the first wrap. Azra stopped him before he went to the next. Outrider and Host had a short, very nasty argument before the demon made him untie the knot and wind the wrap tighter.

The second time this happened, the woman growled softly.
“AZRA... If you do that again, I will follow you, FIND you, and kick your black, bat winged BUTT to HELL and back!"

The outrider was quiet for a moment, but he did not relent. He could... SEE... things that Constantine could not. Azra knew there was a little more damage than just a few cracked and broken ribs. The demon growled. Normally he loved being the bad ass but right at this moment it... SUCKED! His anger at the situation made him snarl back.

“If you are feeling froggy WOMAN... go ahead and JUMP!” Then he rumbled at Constantine. “I can't believe I am saying this. YOU... are being too soft. Step aside and let me do it!”

Templer gladly gave the outrider control of his hands. This way he could tell himself... HE... was not the one doing the hurting. Azra worked fast, wrapping the bindings one at a time. Each supporting bandage was pulled almost cruelly tight before the demon tied it off.

Chrysta gasped out one strangled... "SON OF A BITCH!!"... Then kept as quiet and still as possible. At one point Templer heard the outrider harshly admonished her.

“DON'T you pass out Chrysta... I need you conscious so I can judge how tight...” This ended in a savage curse as the demon moved on to the next wrapping. “I am sorry. Just hold on. We are almost there!”

When the Azra tied off the last knot, he slipped around in front of the shaking woman where she could see his unhappy eyes glowing muted gold. Chrysta's face was deadly pale. She was right on the edge of passing out. Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes looked almost black. Azra slid back, returning control to his host. Constantine knelt so the woman could rest her head against his black shirted chest. He stayed this way, providing support and balance until she could gain a degree of control. The priest listened as her breathing gradually settled into a steadier rhythm. He shared Azra's satisfaction that each breath was deeper, stronger and less pained than before.

Templer gently ruffled his fingers through her short hair and murmured in her ear.

“Better?”

At her slight nod, he continued... “At least we did not SIT on you.”

The Talon was rewarded with a soft chuckle, followed by a careful cough.

Chrysta stayed still, content to just sit and rest against him. Templer maintained his position. This was something he could do forever... if need be.

His companion's fingers slid over the soft black material of his cloak. When she spoke, her words were muffled and sad.

“You weren't even going to say good bye?”

She tightened her grip on the man as she felt him stiffen, not letting him pull away.

Constantine's deep voice was rough and strained as he tried to articulate the raw emotions that roiled through him.

“Chrysta... don't... I can't...”

Azra stayed silent as he felt the woman ride the emotional storm in. He watched as she carefully opened herself to the longing, anger, anguish, self-loathing mess that WAS Templer Constantine. Most of all she tasted the underlying damage caused by decisions in a first life gone TERRIBLY wrong. The man was consumed by ravaging guilt, and a deep, paralyzing fear that the same thing was happening again.

Withdrawing her mind, Chrysta slid her hands around his strong shoulders and back. She rocked them both of them... slowly and gently.

“It's okay Constantine.” she whispered, “I know better than to try and take what you are unable or unwilling to give. That would be as... futile... as trying to race the wind.”

Azra did not interrupt, although the outrider knew from experience that racing the wild wind was a lot of fun. Sometimes... once in a great while... you could actually catch it for a moment. Then... oh HOLY... it would reward you with the ride of your life!

Chrysta lifted her head and pushed the gunman back a little so she could look at his distressed face. She gently poked him in the breast with a stiff finger.

“Just... don't... be LEAVING... without saying good bye. That would be unforgivably rude!”

Templer stood up and backed away. A small look of confusion mixed with relief crossed his pale features. Her calm acceptance and understanding was not what he had expected. This was not the clingy, teary reaction he had been slipping away to avoid. He was... oddly enough... disappointed!

Chrysta must have been able to read a little of what he was thinking because she snorted.

“WHAT... Did you think that after living as long as I have, that I couldn't possibly survive without a man in my life? P-L-L-LEASE!”

Her gentle smile took any sting out of the words. In his relief, Templer did not notice that her easy to read expression was shuttered tight.

The woman carefully levered herself up and passed her hands over the mummy like bindings on her chest.

“Thanks, this is really helping a lot.”

Slipping past the motionless man, Chrysta snatched up the neatly folded shirt he had placed on the table. Then she headed for the door.

A couple of quick, gliding steps had the Talon blocking her path.

“Where do you think you are going? When the alcohol and dreamleaf wear off, you will find it hard to walk.”

Chrysta sighed.

“Truth be told, walking isn't THAT much fun right now. It doesn't change the fact that I need to go check on Nuva.”

Seeing the look that crossed his face, she hastily put up a hand and stepped back. “Being carried hurts almost as bad as walking so... DON'T...”

As he carried her down the stairs... Templer did his best to ignore her annoyed glare.

The woman insisted that the he stop and set her on her feet when they reached the back door. Templer watched in fascination as she buttoned her shirt to hide the damage and closed her eyes in concentration for a moment. When Chrysta raised her head and opened the door, she glanced casually in El Diablo's direction. He stared balefully back. There was not a sign of any pain or discomfort as she strolled across the courtyard and into the barn. As Constantine followed behind he felt the big silver's hot gaze tracking him. The waves of hate and rage that emanated off of the beast made his gun hand twitch out of instinct.

In contrast the inside of the barn was quiet and calm. Templer stood for a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. He could hear Chrysta running her hands slowly over Nuva as she checked the mare out. She spent a few minutes stroking Zephyr's long black nose. Her eyes flashed between blue and the gold as the woman "talked" to them both.

She gave each a final pat and walked back over to the door.

“I won't have any time to visit them in the morning.”

Was all she said as she passed the gunman on her way back out into the cool evening air. This time, as she walked by El Diablo, she stopped. For a long time, she stood watching the stallion. Chrysta was so still that Templer laid a hand on her back. He was worried that she was in the silver's thrall.

“I wish you would reconsider this. Even with dreamleaf, you will not be able to walk tomorrow.”

The woman flashed a tired smile at him,

“Well... it is a good thing I am RIDING the Gauntlet, not WALKING it. I think I am going to just go up and try to get some rest. Would you mind seeing that Grant doesn't spend the night at that table?”

“Hnnn...” was all the Talon said as he watched her go back inside.

It was dark by the time Templer had the big bartender wrestled up to his room. He left the big man sprawled loosely across his bed. When the priest returned to their room he found that Chrysta had stolen most of the pillows off of the bed. She had wedged them around herself on the duvet so she could sleep half way sitting up. He stood and watched for a time as the woman drifted in and out of a light doze.

“She probably cannot breathe lying flat.” Azra observed unhappily.

Templer brought a chair over to where he could sit and observe the woman's restless sleep. The outrider's wrappings had helped, but it was easy to see that she was still very uncomfortable. The gunman sat for a couple of hours, hoping she would settle into a deeper sleep where her body could find some relief.

He finally couldn't stand it any longer.

“So... do you have any ideas on how are we going to stop her?”

“I don't think we can. With the way that wager is worded it has to be CHYSTA that wins the race.” Azra sounded as miserable with that particular answer as he was. “She evidently feels acquiring this land is worth the considerable risk. Nothing you or I can do or say will make a difference.”

Templer growled,

“We could tie her to the bed.”

Azra gave a low, dark chuckle.

“Whereas that sounds like it might be fun if she were up to it. I would not want to be around when she managed to free herself.” The outrider's voice turned thoughtful. “It seems to me there is another whose fate is tied up in how this turns out. We just need to find a way to get through to him. Listen... I think I might have a plan!”

That was how Templer found himself outside of El Diablo's paddock, holding his cloak loosely in one hand, with the Trinity on his hip instead of being snugly nestled in the other. The man winced as the big silver, who stood at the far side of the enclosure, slowly curled his lips back and popped his nasty, LARGE, sharp edged fangs together with a sound like a gunshot.

“I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this.” The outrider could hear the apprehension in his host's voice.

Azra couldn't help himself.

“I can't believe you LET me talk you into doing this!”

That startled a chuckle out of the Talon followed by a quiet,

“Azra, you are such an ASSHOLE... Here we go!!”

The priest vaulted over the fence. He made it to the center of the pen before the massive destria even twitched. It seemed that El Diablo just couldn't believe his eyes. That couple of seconds was all they got. With a low rumbling moan... the stallion charged. Templer held his ground until the last second. He spun away, dodging hooves and teeth as he flicked the cloak in front of the lurid green eyes, disrupting the animal's flow. The Talon knew El Diablo was intelligent. He would only get one shot at this. Again the stallion charged, and again at the last second Templer melted away from in front of him, flipping the scarlet lined cloak in front of those insane eyes.

The third time the stallion charged, Templer didn't dodge. The animal ducked sideways as if expecting him to. As he did this, the Talon stepped forward, sucking himself up on his toes as the wicked black horns sliced through his shirt barely scoring his stomach. He turned with the stallion and tucked himself behind the heavy ridge where teeth and horns couldn't reach. Reaching over the thick neck with his blade-hand, he locked onto the long horn as he threw his cloak over the silver's face. He slammed his gun hand hard digging his fingers into the heavy bone of El Diablo's long nose. The beast's momentum had his boots sliding along beside the flashing hooves. Using ALL of his enhanced strength Templer twisted... hard. He could FEEL El Diablo's astonishment as his massive head was twisted up and back. The whiplash that traveled along the animal's spine took him right off of his hooves and he crashed onto his side into the dirt. Moving like nothing more than shadowed lightening, the Talon buried his knees on that high crested neck. He tightened the cloak around the ice green eyes, blinding the silver. At the same time, he tightened his talons around the big arteries and windpipe under the heavy jaw.

“BE STILL!” He hissed.

The big animal started to thrash, then caught Constantine's scent. Evidently there was enough of Azra in it to confuse the beast. El Diablo snorted and lay still.

Azra slipped forwards and together the gunman and the demon, painted a picture of that high isolated valley. They explained what Chrysta wanted to do, although the low angry moan that rumbled through the body under them at mention of her name did not bode well. Azra rumbled right back.

“LISTEN... ASSHOLE, (Templer smothered the slightly hysterical snicker that tried to pass his lips) “You are in a win... win here. If you finish first in the race with Chrysta alive and well, you get paradise. You lose with Chrysta still alive and I will personally grant your heart’s desire and take... you...out... the Prince of Darkness be damned! On the Flip side... If you HURT, the woman in any way... WE shall make it our life's mission to ensure you live a very long and unhappy life!”

The stallion released another long, shuddering angry moan.

Azra stepped back into the shadow. Templer did a quick calculation.

“Okay, oh brilliant one. How do we make it to the damned fence?”

The Outrider answered nonchalantly.

“WELL Constantine... as one asshole to another, my suggestion is... How fast can you RUN!”

Templer was up in a flash. He was amazed at how fast something as large El Diablo could move! The Talon could feel the battle stallion's angry breath and snapping teeth right on his ass as he flew over the fence. The outrider and his host stood and watched as the enraged stallion circled the paddock looking for a way to get to them.

Templer dusted his pants off and checked the long shallow slashes dug across his stomach.

“That went over well, don't you think?” His words dripped with sarcasm.
“SHUT UP...Constantine!”

Chrysta was still fitfully sleeping when the Talon slipped back into the room. He studied her white face silently noting the light sheen of sweat on it. Setting his cloak and gun down, Templer went in to take a quick shower. He was pretty sure that the heavy scent of El Diablo that surrounded him would disturb the resting woman. As he stepped out wrapped in a towel, he realized her green eyes were open and tracking him.

When she saw she had his attention, Chrysta smiled slightly.

“I have been laying here trying to levitate that bottle of Anesthetic over to myself. I haven't succeeded yet.”

Tucking the towel around his waist the priest poured a small glass and took it over to her. She hissed through her teeth and coughed softly as she carefully reached for it. One finger drifted out to trace across the already healing slashes on his pale stomach.

Templer looked away from the question on her face.

“It is nothing. At Azra's suggestion, I got in to an argument with one of the barn... cats.”

One chestnut brow rose as Chrysta sipped the drink.

“UmmmHumm...”

The Talon winced as his outrider, not one to be willingly thrown under the bus, piped up.

“HEY... my idea was better than his!”

The gentle finger stopped moving.

“And just what was his idea?”

Templer hastily removed portions of his anatomy from out of her reach as Azra smugly answered.

“HE was going to tie you to the bed!”

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link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/fiction/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-ch-32