My Lord Eternity (3 page)
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
Watching Miss Kingly safely walk away from the deadly vampire, Lucien slipped the dagger beneath his jacket.
It had been rather a nasty surprise to nearly stumble over the traitor. When he had impulsively decided to follow Miss Kingly through the dark streets, he had been more concerned with the mundane dangers. Thieves, rapists, murderers. The sight of the Inscrolled slaves, followed closely by Amadeus, had made his blood run cold.
Keeping close enough to rush to the maiden if the vampire desired to harm her, Lucien had remained in the shadows to discover precisely what the renegade would do. For all his frivolous ways, he knew it was imperative that he understand precisely how Amadeus intended to acquire the Medallion.
It had taken only moments to realize that the renegade was intent on wooing the maiden with his supposed sympathies to those poor individuals who littered the streets of St. Giles. And that he was quite willing to kill without remorse to achieve his goal.
The realization hardened his determination.
He would not allow Miss Kingly to be harmed. For once in his existence he possessed a true responsibility. He would not fail.
Waiting until he was certain that the maiden was on her way home, Lucien silently stepped from the shadows and confronted the vampire with a mocking smile.
“My, my, Amadeus,” he drawled. “How terribly clever of you to save Miss Kingly in such a daring manner. But then, you have always been clever.”
With a smooth motion Amadeus turned to confront him, a cold glitter in his pale eyes.
“Ah, Lucien, I have been expecting you.” Lucien narrowed his gaze in dislike. He had always found the vampire a pompous, ill-humored man. He was also cruel in nature and took unpleasant delight in causing pain in others.
Unfortunately he was also cunning and dispassionate. Two qualities that would ensure that he would not make a foolish mistake.
Keeping his guard raised, he leaned against the derelict gin house and folded his arms over his chest.
“Poor Molly. I do not suppose she ever realized that she was being butchered just so you would have an excuse to insinuate your way into Miss Kingly's life?”
The thin lips curled into a humorless smile. “In truth she revealed little interest in the reasons for her torture. Like most humans, she was predictably swift to succumb to her terror. They can be so tediously mundane.”
“An unfortunate tendency of being mortal, I have discovered.”
“Yes.” Amadeus gave a mockingly sorrowful sigh.
“And as I was pressed for time, I was forced to be wretchedly clumsy. Her throat, I fear, was quite mangled and her head barely remained attached.”
Lucien refused to be goaded into revealing his revulsion. He did not doubt Amadeus was deliberately attempting to prod for some response.
“My sympathies. I know how you dislike a messy kill.”
Amadeus gave a delicate shiver. “I do. Unlike Tristan and Drake, who have joined me in the battle for the Medallion, I do not allow bloodlust to make me into a savage. It is only a means to a greater power.”
“That is no doubt a great comfort to Molly,” Lucien drawled.
The false vicar gave an indifferent shrug. “Sacrifices must be made.”
“Why?” Lucien demanded.
“I beg your pardon?”
Lucien slowly pushed himself from the wall. “As you said, you are unlike Tristan and Drake. You have never placed yourself forward to be considered as a member of the Great Council, nor sought privilege for your undoubted powers. You are a scholar. Why are you here?”
Amadeus smiled in a condescending manner. “I am a seeker of knowledge, not a scholar,” he corrected Lucien. “I do not read the words of others or endlessly debate philosophy with those of lesser intelligence. I search for the truth in all its various forms. An impossible task when I was imprisoned behind the Veil.”
His arrogance would have been astonishing to all but those acquainted with Amadeus. He rarely disguised his sense of superiority over all others.
“You find truth in the killing of mortals?”
An odd glitter abruptly entered the pale eyes. “Actually I believe that there must be a startling clarity that can be found when confronted by impending death. What other moment can offer such a rare opportunity to thrust aside all frivolous distractions so that one is allowed to concentrate on the meaning of life? As an Immortal I am denied such a moment of enlightenment, so I search for it among the humans. For all their weaknesses, they must gain some knowledge in that final breath. Now that my experiments can continue, I possess great faith that I shall uncover the most fascinating revelations. It is all a matter of discovering the proper mortals for my research.”
There was a fevered edge in his tone that struck a chill in Lucien, but he determinedly kept his expression impassive. The vampire had obviously lost all sense in his thirst for knowledge.
“You are now free of the Veil. What need have you for the Medallion?”
A sudden sneer twisted Amadeus's features. “I am not so naive as to believe Nefri will tolerate my peculiar studies. Like you, she possesses an inexplicable fondness for mortals. And, of course, the lure of power is undeniable. With the Medallion I shall be beyond the tedious strictures of the Great Council and free to indulge in my thirst for knowledge, no matter where it might lead.”
Lucien slowly straightened his shoulders, his own expression grim. “All very commendable, no doubt, but I fear I cannot allow you to claim the Medallion.”
Amadeus gave a sharp laugh at his firm warning. “You believe you can halt me?”
“If necessary.”
“Then we are destined to be enemies.” The vampire gave a mocking bow. “May the best vampire win. Adieu, Lucien.”
With supreme nonchalance Amadeus turned on his heel and moved down the darkened street. Lucien briefly fingered the dagger beneath his coat before giving a shrug. He truly hoped that there would be no need to actually put an end to the vampire. No matter what his distaste for Amadeus and his torture of humans, he was a brother to him. It would be a terrible thing to destroy him.
Giving a shake of his head, Lucien shrugged off his dark thoughts. For the moment his concern was for the Medallionâand Miss Kingly. He could not allow himself to be distracted.
With movements too swift for human eyes, Lucien disappeared into the shadows and made his way back to the small house that was now his home. His fleetness ensured that he arrived upon the doorstep only moments after Miss Kingly, and with silent steps he slipped in behind her. It was only when he lightly touched her upon the shoulder that she gave a startled jerk and turned to regard him with a wide gaze.
“Oh, Mr. Valin,” she breathed, not completely able to hide her relief that he was not some villain intent upon harm.
“Good evening, Miss Kingly,” he murmured softly, his gaze deliberately moving to the smudge of dirt upon her cheek and down to the torn bodice of her gown. “What has occurred?”
She belatedly attempted to hide her wounds with the well-worn shawl. “'Tis nothing.”
His expression firmed at her ridiculous words. “'Tis more than nothing.”
Without awaiting her approval, he grasped her elbow and sternly steered her toward the small front salon. She attempted to protest, but it was obvious she was still too unnerved by the murder of her friend to conjure her usual spirit.
“What are you doing?”
“Those wounds must be attended to or they will become infected,” he retorted, leading her to a chair and pushing her onto the threadbare cushion. He crossed toward the sidebar near the window. “I presume you have brandy? Ah, here we are.”
Grasping the small bottle of brandy, Lucien returned to the dazed maiden. He paused to remove a handkerchief from beneath his coat and poured the brandy onto the clean linen before gently pulling the shawl aside.
“This is not necessary,” she protested as her cheeks filled with heat. “Meg is quite capable of assisting me.”
He lifted his head to meet her embarrassed gaze. “Why would you disturb Meg when I am here? Now, hold still, this might burn.”
He pressed the handkerchief to the scrape on her shoulder, his lips thinning as she flinched in pain. Amadeus would pay for causing her injury, he silently promised himself, determinedly cleaning the bits of dirt from the wound.
“Oh,” she choked as he continued his ruthless cleansing.
He gave a rueful grimace. “I fear I have no means of making this painless.”
She gritted her teeth. “It does not matter.”
“May I inquire how you managed to find yourself in such a condition?” he demanded, hoping to take her mind off his ministrations.
“I encountered some ruffians.”
“Ah. Hardly surprising in such a neighborhood. I suppose it would be a waste of time to warn you that a young, lovely maiden should not be wandering the streets at this hour?”
“You suppose correctly,” she retorted in tart tones, no doubt having been warned of the dangers on more than one occasion.
“At least you should take along a companion. A lone woman is far more likely to be attacked.”
“I will not endanger Meg.”
His gaze met her own squarely. “Only yourself?” She gave a lift of her shoulder, only to wince at the movement.
“It is my decision to make.”
He smiled wryly at her stubborn tone. She would not easily be dissuaded from her reckless behavior. Not when she was convinced she was saving those poor souls upon the street. And unable to reveal the truth of her danger, Lucien was stuck in the unenviable position of somehow charming her into accepting his assistance.
A task that he would not wish upon his most dire enemy.
“Undoubtedly, my dear,” he soothed as he continued to work upon the deep scratch. “An independent woman such as yourself has no need to request permission to go where she chooses.”
She eyed him with open suspicion, as if sensing his devious intent. “Precisely.”
“And yet, surely a wise woman would take more care?”
Her features abruptly hardened at the unshakable truth in his accusation. “Are you finished?”
“In a moment.” Lucien carefully considered his words, knowing that any misstep could take days, if not weeks, to repair. “Do you go out often at night?”
“Yes.”
“You help those in need?”
“When possible.” The beautiful eyes darkened. “Unfortunately I cannot help them all.”
Knowing that she must be thinking of the recently murdered Molly, Lucien offered a smile of sympathy.
“No one person can.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Lucien slowly straightened to gaze down at her pale countenance, his heart once again struck with her gentle beauty. A beauty that was reflected in her generous heart.
“I have a proposition for you, Miss Kingly,” he said in low tones.
She swiftly stiffened in wary confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
“I am willing to pay you . . . let us say one pound . . . for each occasion you allow me to accompany you during your visits to the street.”
There was a moment of shocked silence before she slowly rose to her feet.
“What?”
“I believe you heard me.”
“But . . . why? Why would you be willing to offer such wealth for the inconvenience of accompanying me as I meet with pickpockets and fallen women?”
His lips twisted with wry humor at the sharp disbelief in her tone.
“You are not the only soul who feels compelled to help those in need. And I happen to believe that at the moment you are very much in need.”
“Me? Absurd.” Her chin tilted to a proud angle at the implication she might harbor a hidden vulnerability. “I am not in need.”
Unable to help himself, Lucien reached out to lightly touch the perfect skin of her cheek. His fingers tingled with pleasure as they traced over the satin softness.
“You make your choice as to whom you offer your service, Miss Kingly. Surely I am allowed to make my own choice as well.”
She allowed his touch to linger a delicious moment before she was sharply pulling away.
“This is ridiculous.”
He arched a golden brow at her unsteady accusation. “Will you toss away the opportunity to acquire such ready coin because you think me ridiculous?”
“I think you mad.”
“Perhaps.” He gave an indifferent shrug, his eyes twinkling with his irrepressible humor. This maiden was certainly not the first to call him mad. “But does it truly matter? You shall have your money and I shall be allowed to rest easy knowing you are safe.”
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