Time Without End (The Black Rose Chronicles) (21 page)

He made an odd, strangled sound that might have been either a sigh or a sob. Then he came to where she knelt, placed his hands on either side of her head, and pressed her close against his chest.

“No,” he whispered brokenly. “No, love. You needn’t change to suit me. I adore you—I always will, no matter what you do. Yours is a splendid and brave spirit, and the truth is, you are far better than any woman, anywhere—” She raised her hands to his shoulders and gazed up into his magnificent face. She didn’t understand a great deal of what he said, it was true, but she knew how to console a man. “Let a girl lend a bit of comfort, won’t you?” she said. “It won’t be so bad, I promise.”

He gazed into her eyes, idly smoothing the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones. “Such charity,” he marveled, and she knew by the tender despair in his voice he wasn’t mocking her. “Have you no inhibitions at all?” She was eager to lift his spirits. “I don’t know,” she said quickly, “but if you’ll just explain how that’s done—”

Valerian threw back his head and gave a shout of laughter, and when he looked at her again, it really did seem that there might be tears glistening in his eyes.

Elisabeth flushed, closing her hands into fists against his chest. “What’s the joke?” she demanded.

He lifted her until she was standing, her feet sinking into the feather ticking as her knees had done before, her face on a level with his own. “Stay here with me,” he pleaded quietly. “I’ll give you whatever you want—all the gowns and kirtles you could wish for—a bucket of gold to celebrate the setting of every sun—anything.” Elisabeth relaxed her hands. No man had ever spoken to her that way, as if she had the option of granting or refusing his petition, when he was willing to pay so dear a price for her company. “And I don’t have to be her—that other woman?”

Valerian lifted his face for a few moments, as though silently begging some favor of heaven, and then lifted her into his arms. “You only have to be Elisabeth,” he said in a husky tone. ‘Tomorrow, after the sun goes down, you and I will be off to London, and we’ll buy you so many baubles and ribbons that you won’t be able to carry them all.”

“You wouldn’t make a promise like that and then change your mind, would you?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No, sweet. A promise is a promise.”

She thought he would lie with her at last, since he carried her around the bed and set her so gently atop the smooth covers, but instead he just stood there, looking down at her.

Elisabeth caught hold of his hand, realizing that she wanted very much for him to stay. A peculiar state of shyness had overtaken her, though, and she could not confess what she was thinking.

“Couldn’t we go in the morning?” she asked eagerly. ‘To London Town, I mean.”

“I shall be busy then,” he answered, and his words had just the faintest edge. “Have your evening meal early. We’ll set out as soon as the moon rises.”

Something compelled her to argue, to stall, so that he might stay longer. “But there’s wolves about then, ain’t there?”

“I am not afraid of those poor creatures,” Valerian replied, “nor should you be. They’ll do you no harm.”

Despite the gentle tone in which he spoke, Elisabeth knew he would not change his mind. For reasons of his own—only the saints knew what they were—he did not wish to travel the road to London by day.

In Elisabeth’s opinion, it was daft to take such a chance, for there were not only wolves to lie in wait along the way, but brigands, too. She told herself it was for the gowns she was going, and the gold he’d promised—a bucketful of it for every day at sunset, he’d said! Of course, he was probably bluffing about that.

She sighed. If things didn’t turn out to her liking, why, London was a big place, and it would be easy to slip away and make a new start for herself. Especially with money saved and good clothes to wear.

“Won’t you stay?” she said, still clasping his hand, which felt strangely cool and hard.

Valerian bent just far enough to brush his lips, shiver- light, across her knuckles. “Some other night, my love. When you’ve learned to trust me. And don’t think of running away once you get to London—there are creatures far deadlier than wolves wandering its streets.” Elisabeth gasped, for she’d only
thought
of losing herself in that great city—she certainly hadn’t spoken of it aloud. “You’re a warlock!” she accused, meaning to sit up again, to flee the room, nay, the castle itself, and take her chances with the wild animals and thieves she might well meet on the road.

She could not move. Valerian held her with nothing but his gaze, and yet she was pinioned to the bed.

“I pray you,” he said evenly, “do not insult me so again. I am no such creature.”

Tears, more of wonder and amazement than fear, sprang to Elisabeth’s eyes. She had given up struggling beneath his invisible hold, having found it futile to do so. “What are you, then?” she persisted, barely breathing the words. “You said yourself, when first you came out of the shadows beside the window, that you are more than a man!”

“Brave, foolish Elisabeth,” he said, withdrawing a little way into the darkness. “That was your fatal flaw before as well, you know. You were not wise enough to be afraid, and that’s why the sea took you from me.”

“What do you mean?” Elisabeth might have been bound by visible ropes; the spell he’d cast over her was that strong. “What are you, if you ain’t a man or a warlock? And what do you mean, saying the sea took me away from you? What have you done to me?”

Valerian did not reply, but simply retreated another step, and then another. In the next instant he was gone, without so much as stirring a draft.

The enchantment was broken; freed from whatever mysterious power had held her pressed to the mattress, Elisabeth leaped off the bed and rushed to the place where Valerian had been until a mere heartbeat before.

Furious because she could not comprehend his trick, she stomped one foot and let loose with a string of curses that would have turned the River Thames back upon itself.

Valerian did not return that night, although Elisabeth kept her eyes open as long as she could, waiting for him.

Daisy

Las Vegas, 1995

The trip back from Telluride was never quite clear in Daisy’s memory. One minute she’d been driving down the highway in the predawn darkness, sensing rather than seeing the mountains and Christmas-scented forests all around her. The next, she found herself cruising through the Nevada desert in the bright afternoon sunlight, only a few miles outside her hometown.

Either she really was losing her mind, or Valerian had come through with a version of broomstick travel after all.

Turning onto the roadside, Daisy put on the brakes and shut off the engine. Then she just sat there, trembling, her forehead resting against the steering wheel, until she was sure she wouldn’t a) hyperventilate or b) go into hysterics.

After a few moments of recovery, she reached up and wrenched the rearview mirror toward her, peering into her own eyes, noting the shadows beneath them and the pallor of her skin.

“You’re not crazy, Chandler,” she said aloud and with conviction. “Have you got that? If you saw a guy disappear, he damned well
disappeared!
And if you think you made the trip between Telluride and Vegas in practically the blink of an eye, then that’s what happened!”

A swirling blue light flashed across her reflected image, and she sighed and tilted her head back against the seat to take a deep breath, hold it to the count of five, and release it slowly. It was an antistress technique she’d read about in a magazine article while waiting in the dentist’s office.

The state trooper approached the car on the driver’s side and rapped on the window.

“You feeling all right, ma’am?” he inquired through the glass.

Daisy rolled it down. The trooper was young, and probably still convinced he could change the world, and her heart went out to him. According to the plastic tag on his uniform shirt, his name was Wilson.

She nodded and smiled. “I’m okay. I guess I’m a little tired, though—I just drove over from my sister’s place in Telluride.”

Okay, so that might have been a small lie, Daisy conceded to her twitching conscience. What was she supposed to have said—that she’d been zapped from

Colorado to Nevada, without even touching down in Utah? Badge or no badge, she’d wind up in a room with upholstered walls if she told the truth.

“I’d like to take a look at your license and registration, please,” Wilson said, with an endearing all-American smile.

Daisy reached for her purse, but slowly. She was a cop herself, after all, and she knew well enough how a quick move would look from the trooper’s perspective. She handed him the requested license along with her badge and was removing the registration from the clip on the visor when he cleared his throat.

“That’s all right, Detective Chandler,” he said, returning the laminated card with her mug shot on it, along with the small leather folder containing her police ID and badge. He was blushing a little. “You know how it is.” “Yeah,” Daisy said good-naturedly, “I do.”

“I could drive you into town if you’re too tired to go on.”

Daisy shook her head. “I’m okay. I just needed to take a breather, that’s all. Thanks.”

The trooper nodded, touched the brim of his hat, and strode back to his car. Daisy watched his retreating figure in the mirror, grinning slightly and thinking there was nothing quite like a man in a uniform.

Except maybe a vampire magician in a tux and a flowing cape, she reflected, starting the ignition, signaling, and pulling back out onto the freeway.

Trooper Wilson chivalrously escorted her all the way to the Las Vegas city limits.

She sighed when he took an exit and headed back in the other direction. So much for the police escort.

At first Daisy’s apartment seemed to be just the way she’d left it. She called Nadine right away, ignoring the blinking light on her answering machine, and heard her sister’s cheerful “Hello?”

Daisy closed her eyes. Would Nadine remember her visit, or had Valerian wiped it out of her mind, and Freddy’s, as he’d claimed? “Hi, sis,” she said in a rush of breath. “How are you?”

“Daze! Hi! Freddy and I were just talking about you this morning—it’s the darnedest thing. We
both
dreamed you showed up late last night and slept on our hide-abed! Isn’t that wild—the two of us having the same dream?”

“Wild,” Daisy agreed, feeling a bit sad and very disoriented. By now she half believed she’d dreamed her part of the experience, too. “When’s that baby planning to be born? When interest rates go down? When there’s another Republican in the White House?”

Nadine laughed. “I’d ask her, but I think she’s busy doing aerobics. This kid never sleeps.”

Daisy felt bruised inside. It was, and would always be, a sharp disappointment that she couldn’t be there for Nadine at this important time. “Have you and Freddy managed to agree on a name yet?”

“No,” Nadine admitted. “He wants to call her Carmen Miranda. Trust me, Daisy, no child of mine is going to go around with half the produce department piled on top of her head.”

Now it was Daisy who laughed. “What do you want to call her?” she asked when she’d recovered.

“Whitney,” Nadine replied in a wistful voice. “It’s such a classy name, don’t you think? But Freddy says it’s pretentious.”

“I’m sure the two of you will come up with something suitable.”

There was a short silence. “When are you coming over to see us?” Nadine finally asked.

Daisy’s eyes burned.
When we’ve found this Thing, this murdering fiend, and driven a stake through its heart. Or shot it with a silver bullet.

“Soon,” she said aloud, after what she hoped was an inaudible sniffle.

“Are you catching cold?”

It was Daisy’s day for telling lies, among other things. “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe I’ll take a few days off to drink chicken broth and watch soap operas.”

“Good plan.”

“You’ll call? When it’s time, I mean?”

“You bet,” Nadine said gently. “You’re destined to be Carmen Miranda’s favorite aunt. Besides, I’m expecting a really good baby present from you.”

Daisy smiled. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I’ve been poring over catalogs and prowling through malls for weeks. I’m going to send something that will make Miss
Whitney
Donaldson the envy of the disposable diaper crowd.”

“Why don’t you bring the gift in person?” Nadine asked.

Daisy’s smile faded. “I can’t get away just now, sweetie,” she said. ‘Trust me when I tell you that some very big things are going down around here right now.” Nadine let out a long, martyrly sigh. Evidently she figured it was her turn to be the mother hen of the pair. “I worry about you, Daze. You take too many risks. And it seems like every time I watch one of those reality shows on television, some police officer gets killed.” “Nadine? There’s an easy solution to that—stop watching reality shows.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful. God knows where Mom is—we’re probably happier not knowing. But you’re all I’ve got, Daisy, and I can’t bear to lose you.” A tear slipped down Daisy’s right cheek, and she dashed it away with the back of her free hand. “I’m not all you have,” she reminded her sister. “You’ve got Freddy and that little one doing a high-impact workout under your rib cage.” Images of Jillie and Susan’s bloodless bodies filled her mind and made her stomach pitch. She’d try her damnedest, she vowed silently, not to end up like them. “Look, just focus on the business at hand, okay? I’ll be fine.”