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pretty blonde only nodded at him, sweeping her pale blue eyes over him briefly before settling her gaze on the Prime Reaper. Arawn refused to meet the young woman’s gaze although he could feel the heat of it crawling over him.
    “It’ll be good to have Cynyr and Aingeal home again,” Danielle said. The Prime Reaper merely grunted, keeping his hawklike stare on the coming train.
    “You aren’t planning on going right back to the Citadel now that Cyn’s home, do you?” she asked. “You are going to stay a while and enjoy our hospitality a bit more, aren’t you?”
    Bevyn’s lips twitched and he had to turn away to keep from laughing at the pained look on his leader’s face.
    Arawn lifted his head and glared at the young woman. “Why the hell aren’t you folks afraid of us?” he demanded. “Do you have any notion of how dangerous we are, wench?”
    “Oh pooh!” Danielle said, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m sure there might be other Reapers who are uncivilized and rough-edged, but no one could say the three of you handsome men could be considered such.”
    “We kill people,” Arawn said, coming close to the young woman and glowering at her. “With this!” He laid a hand on the laser whip that hung from his right hip.
    “Well, of course,” Danielle agreed. “That’s what you have to do to protect folks like us. Why should we fear you? You are here to keep us safe.”
    Gritting his teeth, Arawn spun on his heel and stalked off toward the crush of people crowding the train platform, his shoulders hunched.
    “I’m not giving up,” the young woman stated firmly. She turned her face toward Bevyn and lifted her chin. “I’m not.”
    “You ever heard the old saying that anything worth having is worth fighting for, Miss Danielle?” Bevyn asked.
    She nodded.
    “ Dá fhada an lá tagann an tráthnóna ,” Bevyn quoted.
    “Which means?”
    “However long the day, the evening will come,” he translated the Gaelach. Danielle Brewer thought about that for a moment then grinned. “Aye, Lord Bevyn, that it will!” Flouncing her skirt she hurried off for the train had pulled into the station. 22
    Reaper’s Revenge
    Bevyn chuckled to himself for the pretty young thing was making a beeline for Arawn, her skirts sashaying around her shapely rump. “The gods help you, Gehdrin, but she’s got you in her sights and you’re done for, man,” Bevyn said. The train came to a full stop and a crew of burly men streamed out of one of the passenger cars and headed for a flatcar piled with rails and crossties. Two men jumped up on the car and began picking up a barrel that took both of them to lift.
    “Wonder what the heck’s going on?” Brady asked as he joined Arawn and Bevyn.
    “Side rail,” the Prime Reaper stated. “For that next to the last car.”
    Those gathered craned their necks to see the fancy private car coupled to the caboose. As soon as Cynyr was seen in the car’s opened doorway, a loud cheer went up.
    “They gave him a railroad car,” Brady said after a low whistle. “Ain’t that something?”
    “All Reapers have their own railroad car,” Bevyn announced, and caught Arawn frowning at him. He ducked his head.
    Cynyr felt self-conscious at the greeting and hesitantly lifted a hand to the crowd. He turned away to offer his hand to Aingeal as she started down the metal steps. The Reaper heard the crowd moving toward him and shrugged his shoulders as though a burden had been placed on the broad width.
    “Welcome home!” Sheriff Brewer called out, the first one to reach the Crees. “Sure is good to have you folks back in Haines City.”
    Aingeal was smiling, reaching out to hug several of the town’s women who had hurried up to her. She even hugged Mick Brady, and that brought an instant scowl to her husband’s face.
    Though no one put out a hand to welcome Cynyr, folks greeted him warmly—
    sensing his reluctance to shake hands. Smiles were bestowed upon him as well as friendly