Darkness In The Flames (31 page)

Nick seldom made use of the abilities his “changing” had wrought. His night vision and his enhanced hearing he took for granted, ignoring them most of the time. His strength he reined in, knowing that it was out of kilter with his appearance. He could snap a mortal neck with his bare hands, but to do so was to invite inquiry and consequent disaster.

His sense of smell did little for him other than tease him when he hungered. The remaining differences he’d noted were scarcely of use. Until now. Until he needed to creep unseen into a cellar containing people he’d prefer to observe rather than meet face-to-face.

Deliberately, Nick relaxed every muscle in his body. After his “change”, he’d spent some time analyzing the phenomena he’d become. Then the science had given way to the emotional depression and the consequent pain of realization. But those early experiments had stayed in his memory—to be recalled as needed.

Now, he was glad of it. Focusing his concentration down into a place filled with whirling shadows, he knew he was blurring in appearance, blending with his surroundings, becoming something that might have been glimpsed from the corner of an unsuspecting eye, only to disappear when looked for. A cloud of particles that resembled a human body—and yet was not.

The bitterness threatened to rise in his throat and distract him, but Nick fought it down, deliberately focusing on what lay beneath him rather than the crushing weight of his curse.

And as he silently rippled down the old spiral staircase into the gloom at the bottom, his mind thrust all other thoughts away in order to absorb the scene.

Across the dimly lit cellar stood a man with his back to the room, naked to the waist, arms bound with ropes and hooked high on the wall above him. Around him was a silent ring of other figures, far enough away that one tall individual had room to move.

And as he did, the brittle, harsh crack of a whip made them all jump. None more so than the man whose back the thong lashed.

A pitiful whimper racked him.

“Take your punishment, Tim Cooper.” The tall figure flicked the whip once more, voice cultured and low. “You broke a rule tonight that could mean death for all of us.”

“You have no right…” The man choked out an oath.

“The Leader has the right. We gave it to him.” Another man spoke and turned away from Cooper. “Best you learn that now before you get us all dancing with the nubbing cheat.”

Nick recognized the cant. Somebody had done something that could result in the ultimate punishment—death by hanging.

And as the whip fell once more, breaking the skin and bringing a shower of bloody droplets away with it, he realized the perpetrator must be the unfortunate Tim Cooper. “‘Tis your job to clean and prime our weapons, Cooper. We all have jobs that are equally important.” The leader flexed an arm. “You failed at yours this night. A weapon discharged accidentally because it was not prepared. A man may have died because of it. That is
completely
your fault, you fool.”

“So what?” Cooper shuddered a little but lifted his head.

Nick could sense the anger building within the man hanging against the wall. He was in the wrong, yet was one of those who would refuse to acknowledge it. Things, thought Nick, were probably going to get rather ugly.

“So I will not see our group jeopardized by one idiot who’d rather drink than attend to his assigned task.” The whip fell once more with unerring accuracy. This leader of theirs knew his way around the leather. Nick was impressed.

“We cannot linger, Hermes.” An older man spoke up. “Our evening’s take has been secured and we’ve doled out the necessary.”

The men reached for their coats and masks. This was truly a gathering of “gentlemen of the road”—highwaymen—thieves who would waylay travelers and relieve them of their valuables.

Hermes, their apparent leader, nodded. “Go along then. We’ll not meet again until the sign appears.”

“What about him?” One man nodded at Cooper.

“I’ll take care of him.” Hermes’ voice was firm. “He’ll see the error of his ways or not be a part of our group again. ‘‘’Twill be his decision. One of you take his horse and leave it outside Dame Wandle’s. He won’t be needing it again tonight.”

Nods and murmurs of approval greeted this statement. Within minutes the cellar was empty but for Hermes and his captive, the only sounds coming from the outside area where the horses had been tethered.

“Well, Cooper. I must now educate you so that you understand what discipline is. What it means.”

“As if a yokel like you and your mates could teach me anything.” Cooper spat on the floor to the side of his feet. “Give me what’s mine and I’m gone. History. I’m for London where there’s real money to be had, not this pittance you dole out as the whim takes you.”

The whip lashed down, harder this time, curling around Cooper’s ribs and probably catching his nipple. He coughed back a cry. “Lashing me won’t help you. I know things. I can talk to the right people. You should be careful about what you do to me. I doubt Mistress Swain would care for that hulking husband of hers to be deported or hanged, would she? And what about their brats? They’d starve, wouldn’t they?”

In spite of the blood dribbling down his spine, Cooper still ranted on in what was probably an adrenaline-fueled attack of bravado. Threats poured from his lips, venomous and cruel, increasing in tempo as the lashes from the thong drew deeper welts across his back and shoulders.

It could have rendered him senseless, scarred him for life or loosed a flow of blood that would eventually have killed him. The fact that his whipping did none of those things was clearly escaping Cooper’s notice.

It wasn’t escaping Nick’s. He took a long look at “Hermes”—an apt choice of names, since Hermes was the God of Thieves.

Quite tall and lean, the skill of his whipping arm was undeniable. What little light there was proved insufficient for Nick to distinguish coloring or facial features clearly at first glance, but what he could see told him that this man was not a local farmer or tradesman. There was breeding in the shape of the face, a flash of clear skin in the candlelight and a definite lack of country accent in the voice. It occurred to Nick that the highwaymen had chosen their leader well—someone who could command, plot and organize with common sense and intelligence, and a person not afraid to administer punishment when necessary.

All qualities prized by those who followed him. Except for Tim Cooper.

“You should be thanking me.” His voice was a hiss now, but still defiant. “What’s one servant more or less to that arrogant bastard?”

Hermes sucked in a breath and released it on a sigh. “The answer to that is obvious to anybody using the brain God gave them.” Once more the whip flicked, catching Cooper’s neck this time and leaving a small red mark. “While the ignominy of being robbed by highwaymen is something most of the upper classes wish to conceal lest they appear weak and stupid, killing is a crime. Punishable by death.”

“And what do you think would happen if I said you or one of the others did it?” Cooper’s voice was sly now, betraying an edge of craftiness that made Nick clench his teeth.

Strangely enough, that was the reaction from Hermes too. Teeth clamped on each other so hard Nick could quite clearly hear the grinding of the enamel surfaces.

“What the fuck am I to do with you, Cooper?” Apparently Hermes was running out of options.

“Not so smart now, are you?” Cooper snarled the words over his bloody shoulder. “Think a few lashes with your toy are going to shut my mouth? Think again.”

Both heads swiveled as the sound of mounted riders clattered into the silence. At this hour, neither man believed more guests were arriving at the inn. Hermes’ body went taut and Cooper tensed against the wall. Apparently the authorities were more alert at this time of night than had been anticipated.

“I believe I may be of assistance?” Nick strolled into the cellar as if entering a drawing room for tea. To say his arrival was a shock would be to understate matters considerably.

Hermes’ jaw dropped and Cooper’s head twisted around on his neck with an audible crack. “Who the fuck are
you
?”

“Merely an interested bystander who happened to be in the vicinity.” He tilted his head as the sound of fists pounding on the inn door disturbed the late night silence. “It would seem that there are still folks out and about at this late hour.” He crossed the shadowed room to stand beside Hermes and stare at Cooper’s bloody back. “And it would also seem that
you
, sir, have a disposal problem.”

Hermes stepped further into the concealing shadows. “I have no time…” He shook his head and cursed. “This is most unfortunate, sir.”

Nick shrugged. “I can take care of it for you. You have no reason to trust me, but then again, you also have no other options that I can discern.” The rigid discomfort of the other man was easy to read. “Look, I have no interest in your activities or that of your cohorts. I do, however, agree that discipline within any organization is crucial and I admire the way you administer yours.”

His eyes fell to the whip still lying comfortably in Hermes’ hand. “I have some skill with…with…mesmerism. I can ensure that friend Cooper here has no recollection of tonight. Or any night with your band if you so desire.”

“You can do that?” The voice was curious, not friendly, but definitely curious.

“Yes.” Nick stepped into what little light there was and let the man take a long look at his face. He knew that his unusual eyes would be clearly visible and he took the opportunity to pour quite a bit of confidence into his gaze. It would reassure Hermes, perhaps, and get him away before his presence was discovered.

There were thuds and voices upstairs. Hermes nodded. “Then do it. I must away.” He hurried to the door then turned. “We shall be in your debt, sir. May I know your name so that it might one day be repaid?”

“Nicholas Blaine at your service.” Nick bowed and straightened again.

There was a silence for a heartbeat longer than there should have been. “Thanks, friend Blaine.” And Hermes was gone.

The door had barely closed behind Hermes when Nick sprang into action. He was on Cooper before the man could open his mouth.

Ripping the ropes from the wall, Nick reached for Cooper’s throat, grasping it so tightly that the man’s eyes bulged with fear and the inability to catch a breath. “Now listen to me and listen well. It is in my power to see that you survive this night. It is also in my power to see that you don’t.” His fingers tightened brutally around Cooper’s neck. “Do you understand?”

The terrified man nodded, his face paling even more as he saw the fangs slide effortlessly from beneath Nick’s lips.

Nick hadn’t planned on feeding tonight. Hadn’t needed to, thank God, nor had he felt any of the hunger that preceded his blood lust. But if a convenient meal were to present itself—as it did in the shape of Cooper—then he was not a vampire to turn it away. He doubted there were any who would.

Without hesitation Nick found the pulsing vein in Cooper’s neck and pierced it, letting the hot tangy liquid flow over his tongue. He knew that taking blood would reduce his prey to lassitude, taking too much would kill, taking just enough would render him insensate for several hours.

He’d experimented over the years, his scientific background useful for comparing results. Even while satisfying his own hungers, he’d learned things—helpful if strange things—one of which was now going to save a life. And oddly enough, it was Cooper’s life he’d save.

Carefully, Nick drank from the man, taking more and more of Cooper’s weight as his consciousness faded. Usually Nick would stop at this point, leaving his victim somewhere relatively comfortable, to wake in a few hours with little more than a headache and no memory of Nick or his fangs.

This time he drank more deeply. The forgetfulness he wished to induce must go back further than a few hours. He had no wish to render Cooper mindless or dead, but he would erase as much of the man’s memories as possible.

It would take some time for him to recover. Time that would, hopefully, be sufficient for Hermes to undo any damage done by Cooper’s ill-advised shooting.

And Nick was getting a bonus—a meal rich in strength and youth—sweet delight when compared to some of the feedings he’d been forced to endure.

It was over in mere seconds.

Cooper slumped unconscious in Nick’s arms, his back no longer bleeding, but clearly beaten harshly.

It would suffice. Nick could dump him pretty much anywhere he chose. These were times of lawlessness and savagery. Another man attacked for the slenderest of motives would occasion little outcry amongst those used to such things.

As an afterthought, Nick pulled a dusty bottle from a nearby shelf and tapped off the top, dousing Cooper with the fragrant brandy. He sincerely hoped the innkeeper would not miss the liquor while adding a postscript to his prayer that it wasn’t a good vintage.

All this took precious moments of time though, and Nick knew time was in short supply. The tramping feet above would be searching thoroughly, maybe even finding the secret inside entrance to the cellar—or at the very least the outside door.

It was definitely time to leave.

Hefting Cooper over one shoulder with ease, Nick gingerly unlatched the well-oiled lock and peered into the darkness outside. The horses were gone, only a few scraps of hay left to show they’d ever been present. It was a stall of sorts, built beneath the inn, shielded by the natural rise and fall of the landscape. Bushes had grown around it adding to the privacy, eventually creating a nice little hideaway. But nobody could be accused of deliberately creating it for nefarious purposes.

There were probably many such shelters of one kind or another attached to inns, farms and other places where protection from the elements would be a welcome advantage.

Nick crossed it with strong and rapid steps, the solid weight of his burden unnoticed on his shoulders. A quick glance at the sky told him there was no time to waste—dawn was not far off now. He kept to the shadows, sneaking past the two men who waited outside the inn with horses. Their masters were inside looking for—whatever it was they sought.