Authors: Alexandra Ivy
My Lord Eternity (11 page)
Jocelyn knew his words were a gross understatement. Those of the streets were wary of strangers. Any stranger. And if they suspected that Mr. Ryan was a member of Bow Street, they would be as likely to slit his throat as to confess to any knowledge of crimes in the neighborhood.
“No, I do not suppose they would,” she murmured in sympathy. “Most have their own secrets to hide.”
The large man gave a nod of his head. “As you say.”
“Then, what is it you desire of me?”
There was a faint pause before Mr. Ryan grimaced. “There have been two more prostitutes discovered murdered since Molly's death.”
Jocelyn stared at him in stunned disbelief. “Two more?”
“One was discovered floating in the river; the other was left not far from here.”
She pressed a hand to her twisted stomach. Had the world gone mad? Who would harm such helpless women? They had nothing to steal. They did not hurt others. They simply were attempting to survive in a harsh world that offered them nothing.
It was all so horribly, wretchedly unfair.
“Dear heavens,” she whispered, her heart clenching with pain.
With a silent swiftness Lucien was at her side, his hand coming to rest upon her lower back in a gesture of unspoken sympathy.
“What does this have to do with Miss Kingly?” he demanded of the Runner.
The pleasant features hardened with a surprisingly grim expression. “The last victim had a ribbon tied about her neck with a note that was written to Miss Kingly.”
Jocelyn sucked in a shocked breath. “To me?”
“That is what I presume.” He gave a lift of one large hand. “It had your name and the words âthe necklace or death' scrawled upon the paper.”
Just for a moment she thought she might be physically ill. The dark evil that was stalking her was becoming horribly, horribly tangible. Not only from those strange men who had broken into her bedchamber, but with Molly's murder and now the other poor victims.
She unconsciously reached up to grasp the amulet that lay against her skin.
“I . . . this makes no sense. Why would anyone desire my necklace? It possesses no value.”
She thought that Lucien stiffened at her side, but her attention remained upon the frowning Runner.
“Are you certain?” Mr. Ryan demanded.
“No more so than any other bit of gold.”
“Has anyone approached you and admired the necklace, or wished to borrow it?”
She paused, briefly considering the men who had broken into her home. They had said something of the necklace, had they not? And there had been those odd dreams of the old gypsy woman warning her to protect the amulet.
Then she gave a small shake of her head. The Runner would think her mad if she began babbling of odd intruders and gypsy dreams. She wasn't certain that she entirely believed the strange happenings herself.
“No,” she at last muttered.
Mr. Ryan heaved a weary sigh. “A pity. I had hoped you might have some knowledge of who might be stalking these young women.”
She battled the threatening tears. “I wish that I did. I am sorry.”
Stepping even closer, Lucien placed his arm protectively around her shoulder. There was a sudden air of danger that crackled about him as he narrowly regarded their guest.
“Miss Kingly had nothing to do with the murders.”
Much to his credit, the Runner managed to meet that fierce golden gaze without flinching. A remarkable task, indeed.
“I do not suspect that Miss Kingly is involved, but I cannot ignore the fact that two of the victims carried notes with her name upon them.”
Lucien tensed, but before he could speak, Jocelyn turned to offer him a sad shake of her head.
“He is right, Lucien. There must be some reason that this monster has left my name on those wretched maidens.” She gave a deep shudder, her stomach once again threatening to revolt. “We must discover why.”
“Not tonight,” he retorted in icy tones.
Not even the undoubted courage of Mr. Ryan was equal to the dark, looming threat of Lucien Valin.
“No, of course not.” He offered her a strained smile. “You will come to me if you discover any information?”
“Certainly.”
“Then I will trouble you no further.” He gave a bow. “Good evening.”
Jocelyn barely noticed as the large man turned and quietly left the room. Her heart felt heavy and her mind clouded with a pained terror.
What was happening?
If someone wished to harm her, why would they kill pathetic women upon the street? And why would they possess such an odd fascination with her amulet?
Why?
“Have a seat, Jocelyn.” With tender care Lucien guided her to a nearby chair. Waiting until she had numbly settled upon the threadbare cushion, he briefly disappeared, only to return with a small glass of brandy that he pressed into her hand. “Drink.”
She did as she was commanded, giving a choked cough as the fiery spirit slid down her throat. Lifting her head, she met his concerned gaze with a frown.
“Two more girls dead,” she said in quavering tones.
He grimaced, kneeling beside the chair to grasp her chilled fingers in a warm grip.
“I am sorry, Jocelyn.”
“This is unbearable.” She shivered in fear. “Who would do such a thing? And why?”
“As you said . . . a monster,” he said quietly.
“A monster who is searching for me,” she retorted, no longer able to deny the truth.
There was a faint pause before she heard him heave a sigh. “I fear so.”
Something in his dark tone made her search his oddly pale features. He sounded so certain. As if . . . as if he knew.
“Lucien . . . who is this man?”
The bronze features tightened as he studied her wary expression. “He is a very evil man. A dangerous man.”
A thick lump threatened to choke her. She did not want to believe that Lucien had anything to do with the darkness that clouded about her. He was her strong shoulder that she desperately desired to lean upon. He was a steady comfort in her growingly unstable world.
But her hapless wishing could not alter the pained regret that was glittering in his golden eyes.
“What does he want from me?” she forced herself to demand.
“The Medallion.”
Her fingers lifted to clutch the golden amulet. “My necklace?”
“Yes.”
“But . . . why? It surely cannot be of value.”
His eyes briefly closed before he lifted his lashes to regard her with a tortured expression.
“It is valuable, my dove. More valuable than you could ever imagine.”
She struggled to accept his ragged words. It seemed impossible. What gypsy, no matter how old or mad, would offer a valuable amulet to a complete stranger? Such a woman living in obvious poverty would surely sell the necklace or at least barter for some gain.
And yet, she could not deny that the necklace had become a source of fascination for some villain. A villain willing to kill for it.
She found it suddenly difficult to breathe. “What is it?”
His hand reached up to softly touch the fingers that held the amulet in a deadly grip.
“It is an ancient artifact of the Immortals.”
“Immortals?”
His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Vampires.”
Jocelyn was thrusting herself to her feet without realizing that she had moved, nearly toppling Lucien over as she glared down at him with blazing eyes.
“That is not amusing, Lucien.”
With a slow, hesitant motion he straightened, warily regarding her sharp frown.
“No one knows that better than I.”
She grappled to make sense of his absurd words. “Do you mean that someone is ridiculous enough to believe that this Medallion has the power to make them into a vampire?”
An odd expression rippled over the lean countenance. “Lately I wonder if it is so ridiculous. It has altered you in a very profound manner. I can feel it.” He stabbed her with a shimmering glance. “Can you not?”
She stilled in fear. She wanted to laugh hysterically at his obvious insanity.
Vampires?
Magical amulets?
Ludicrous.
Somehow, however, the laughter froze in her throat. In her fingers the Medallion glowed with unnatural warmth, as if to warn her that it was indeed altering her to suit its purpose.
She instinctively backed away, her heart thundering so loud that she thought it might explode.
“Stop this, Lucien, you are frightening me.”
“Trust me, that is the last thing I desire.” His hands clenched at his sides, a searing pain upon his face. “I need you to listen to me, Jocelyn. The Medallion is a powerful artifact, and it belongs to the vampires.”
“There are no such things as vampires,” she ridiculously whispered.
“They are very real. And they have returned to the world of mortals. They stalk the streets of London.”
Chapter 10
Lucien watched the shocked horror ripple over her face. “Why are you saying this?” she choked out in thick tones.
He heaved a sigh. “Because it is the truth. The truth you claimed you desired to know.”
“Vampires killed Molly and those other women?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“Vampires?”
“Yes.”
A heavy silence filled the room, allowing Lucien to hear the harsh rasp of her breath.
“And . . . how do you know this?” She at last forced herself to ask the question that Lucien had dreaded.
He stepped forward, holding out his hand in an unconscious plea for understanding. “Jocelyn.”
“No,” she abruptly cried, backing from him in instinctive fear. “I do not want to hear.”
Lucien's heart broke as he regarded Jocelyn's shattered expression.
He had known this moment would be difficult. He had steeled himself for her anger and disbelief. Even her fear. But now that it had arrived, he realized that it was not difficult. It was bloody impossible.
Great Nefri. She had never appeared more vulnerable. Her eyes were darkened with fractured pain and her features pale with the strain. Worse, there was an air of wounded betrayal shrouded about her taut form.
She did not want to believe he was a monster from her worst nightmare. Not when she had opened her home to him. And her heart.
Lucien longed to tug her into his arms and assure her that all would be well. He wanted to soothe her fears and return the enchanting smile to her face.
Unfortunately he realized that he was the last soul in the world who could offer her comfort. Until he could somehow reach past the fear that currently filled her heart, he was the enemy.
Instead, he could only watch in pained frustration as she struggled to accept the unacceptable.
“I attempted to tell you earlier,” he said gently. “Before we were interrupted by Mr. Ryan.”
She gave a shake of her head. “Dear heavens, you cannot believe that you are a vampire?”
He swallowed a rueful laugh. “This is not a delusion of an unstable mind, Jocelyn. I am a vampire.”
“This is insanity,” she whispered.
Lucien stepped forward, uncertain how to convince her of the truth without sending her fleeing in terror. He attempted to take heart from the fact that she had not bolted already. Surely he could reach her if only she would give him the opportunity.
“Please, if you would just listen to meâ”
“No.” She raised a hasty hand, her eyes wide with fright. “Just stay away.”
His heart twisted in agony. “I will not harm you. I would never harm you. I was sent here to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what?”
Lucien paused, his hands lifting to run through his thick hair. How was he possibly to tell this maiden that she was not only harboring a vampire beneath her roof, but that another was ruthlessly stalking her? And that she currently carried a powerful amulet that could very well decide the fate of all vampires.
She would think him crazed.
Or, worse, blame him for the danger that now haunted her.
“This is very difficult,” he muttered. “Will you at least have a seat?”
“No, Iâ”
“Jocelyn,” he interrupted in commanding tones, his gaze catching and holding her own. “At least hear me out.”
Amazingly her face paled an even more shocking shade of white, but she managed to move to a nearby chair and sat stiffly upon the edge of the cushion.
“If you insist.”
Lucien briefly closed his eyes and attempted to clear his rattled thoughts. It was utterly imperative that he find the words to warn her of her impending danger without further thrusting her away. A fine balance that he was not at all certain he could discover.
At last he reluctantly opened his eyes and met her dark, accusing gaze.
“Jocelyn, I realize that this is difficult to accept, but vampires are not a myth. We have been here for longer than you could ever imagine. And, in truth, we were once unfortunately the monsters we were portrayed. A vampire that is consumed with bloodlust will kill without mercy or thought for his victim. But in taking a human life we not only are gifted with many powers, we are also cursed with sunbane that prevents us from leaving our lairs except at night.”
Her hand slowly crept instinctively to cover her neck. “But you do not fear the sun.”
“Since my return I have not indulged my bloodlust. I have not taken a mortal life.”
She shuddered in horror. “Dear heavens.”
Eager to assure her that vampires were more than just monsters who fed upon humans and stalked the streets at night, Lucien moved toward the chair and bent down beside her. He grimaced as he could feel the fear that raced through her slender form.
Was it possible that less than an hour before, this maiden had been filled with the glorious, dazzling warmth of love? He would give everything he possessed, his very soul, to feel that warmth once again.
“Vampires no longer walk among humans. Two hundred years ago the greatest of all vampires, Great Nefri, used a powerful Medallion to create the Veil.”
Her brow pleated in understandable confusion.
“The Veil?”
“It is a place of peace for the vampires,” he said, a surprisingly reminiscent smile touching his lips. Odd, considering how he had always chafed at the thought of being so firmly imprisoned. And the fact that he was far from certain that he wished to return. “We are no longer bound by mortal forms or weaknesses. Instead, we devote ourselves to study and the ancient philosophies. It is a world quite separate from your own.”
Her frown deepened at his soothing words. Obviously she was not about to be easily reassured no matter how peaceful and scholarly he claimed vampires to be.
“Then, what are you doing here?” she demanded.
He reached out to grasp the arm of the chair, careful not to touch her but close enough to halt any hasty urge to retreat.
“Unfortunately not all vampires were willing to give up the power of bloodlust. There are those who feel that they possess a superior dominance over humans. They resented being forced behind the Veil.”
“What do they want?”
“To return vampires to the world of mortals,” he said simply.
She brooded upon his words, swiftly capable of realizing the dire consequences. Her hands clutched together in her lap.
“How?”
“They seek the Medallion that Nefri used to create the Veil. With such a powerful artifact they could not only destroy the Veil, but it would give them dominion over the other vampires.”
She allowed her gaze to meet his own, perhaps seeking the truth deep in his eyes.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Lucien drew in a deep breath. He did not want to deepen her terror. This was all overwhelming enough as it was. But he knew that he could not hold back the truth. Not only because he needed to earn back her trust, but also because he had to warn her of Amadeus. Soon the vampire would become desperate enough to attempt a more direct means to gain command of the Medallion. She must be prepared to resist his dangerous plots.
“When Nefri discovered that there were traitors plotting to steal the Medallion, she very wisely divided it into three amulets.” His hands gripped the arm of the chair. “Then she bound the amulets to human maidens.”
Perhaps unconsciously, her fingers reached up to touch the necklace that lay against her skin.
“Amulets?”
“Your amulet, Jocelyn.”
She gave a frantic shake of her head, then abruptly leapt from the chair. Lucien was swiftly upon his feet, but she did not flee as he had briefly feared. Instead, she turned around to regard him with a glittering gaze.
“No . . . you are wrong. This amulet was given to me by an old gypsy woman.”
“The woman was Nefri. She came to you in disguise.”
“The vampire?”
“Yes.”
Her expression crumpled, her hands rising to press against her temples. Lucien could only watch in helpless concern as she battled to accept his words. Blast, Nefri. Whatever her belief that Jocelyn was strong enough of spirit to bear this burden, he desperately wished Nefri had chosen any other maiden.
She was so alone. And so very vulnerable.
“This is absurd,” she at last muttered in harsh tones. “Why would she give such a thing to me?”
Lucien cautiously edged forward, his face filled with sympathy. “Because she was able to bind the Medallion to you as a human, which means that it cannot be taken by force, or even death. It can only be given freely.”
Her brows pulled together. “That was why she told me never to remove it or give it to another.”
“Yes.”
“But . . .” She held the amulet in her hand. “It is not bound to me. I can easily remove it.”
“The Medallion itself allows for free will,” he explained in soft tones. “If you choose to give it away, then it will not halt you.”
“Oh.”
He dared another step forward, warily watching her pale features. “A more important reason she chose you was that she understood the strength and purity of your heart. She knew she could find no better guardian.”
“Guardian.” She uttered a short, near-hysterical laugh. “How can I be a guardian when I did not even realize what I possessed? I might have given away the necklace on a dozen occasions.”
“It was a risk, but Nefri had few options.”
A sudden anger flared to life in the beautiful blue eyes. “She could have told me the truth.”
He grimaced. It was an argument he had used himself. Only now did he fully comprehend Nefri's dilemma. What maiden with any sense at all would willingly place herself in the path of a murderous vampire? Even supposing Nefri could have convinced them that vampires existed at all.
“And what would you have done?” he gently demanded.
Her expression twisted as she realized that she would have turned away Nefri as a crazed old woman.
“I do not know.”
“You would have thought her mad.”
She wrapped her arms about her waist. “Now I fear that I am the one who is mad.”
“You do not believe me?”
“I do not know what I believe.” Her head slowly turned as she glanced about the small, shabby room that no doubt had once brought her comfort. It was a place of security. Or at least it had been. Now she was being asked to believe that there was nowhere that was truly safe. He could not blame her for her reluctance. “I cannot think.”
Unable to halt himself, Lucien slid forward, allowing his hands to lightly descend upon her shoulders. He ached to pull her close. To surround her with the strength of his own body. Instead, he gazed deeply into her wide, troubled eyes.
“I know it is difficult, my doveâ”
“No,” she sharply interrupted, pulling away to regard him with a startlingly fierce expression.
Caught off guard, Lucien held out his hands in a pacifying motion. Great Nefri, she was as skittish as a newborn colt.
“What?”
“Do not call me that.”
His breath caught at her broken tones. He felt as if he had just been slammed in the stomach. She was so terribly wounded. And he was the cause.
It was not just the unbelievable tale of vampires. Or even the powerful Medallion she wore about her neck. It was the fact that she had allowed him into her heart.
After years of keeping herself aloof from others and avoiding the pain and disappointment she had experienced at the hands of Lord Patten, she had at long last permitted herself to reach out to another.
Now she felt utterly betrayed.
And he had no one to blame but himself, he acknowledged bitterly. Not even Nefri.
It had been his choice to pose as a dandy on the run from his angry cousin. His choice to live beneath Jocelyn's roof. And his choice to seek a closer relationship than necessary to simply protect her.
And all to see her smile.
His expression was pleading as he held out a slender hand. “Jocelyn.”
“No.” With a shake of her head she backed away, the pain visible upon her face. “I thought you were different. I thought I could believe in you, but you have done nothing but lie to me from the moment you entered my home.”
His hand abruptly clenched as it fell to his side. “I came here to protect you.”
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