Adam cocked his head. “I ought to stop it forever. But I am not yet done with you, Lord Darby. So let me be blunt, as you are most likely in great pain.” Yes, he was; the man swayed on his feet, the color leaching from his face. “You will hold them for me, and you will let this contract go. Or you will answer to me. Am I clear?”
Darby’s skin resembled whey now, but he managed a nod. With that, Adam released him. His clockwork heart whooshed into action with an audible sound. Darby fell to his knees with a gasp. He stayed there for a moment, sucking in deep draughts of air.
Adam looked away in distaste. He’d decided long ago that sympathy was a waste of time. He refused to feel any now or ever again. Slowly Darby rose. Hate burned bright in him. So bright his soul glowed with it.
“May I go?” he asked with grudging impatience.
Weary of his presence, Adam waved a hand in permission. With a swirl of shadow, Darby fled. And Adam was alone. Well, not quite. The heavy weight of judgment pressed upon his back. Oh, but he wondered what Eliza thought of this little scene. Neither he nor Darby had acknowledged her, but she’d been watching. Adam knew that well.
As if to taunt him, the wind shifted, bringing forth the subtle scent of autumn pears and Rhenish wine. Her. He stiffened, as did his cock. Hell and damnation. He would not turn around and acknowledge Miss Eliza May, she of the hateful glares and endless silence. But he had to at some point. He had to find a way to get through to her. Fuck it, he was nigh irresistible to most beings, alive or dead. A wake of spirits trailed him even now, moaning and wailing for attention. Females and males wanted to bed him. Every bloody one but her. Wasn’t it just divine providence that she would be the one to find him repulsive?
Will felt like hell. Or as if he’d been dragged through it, at any rate. Tentatively, he stretched his aching body, and bit back a groan when his muscles protested.
“You’re up, then.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin. The older woman Nan bent over him, her careworn face taut, as if examining a particularly interesting insect. It reminded him of her employer. His senses had deteriorated so greatly that he hadn’t noticed another being in the room with him. Perfect. Bloody perfect.
“Where is Evernight?” From his prone position in his bed, he glanced about and found the room otherwise empty. Had he hurt her too? A memory rose within him, of holding her close, his focus upon the sweet curve of her pale neck, and he nearly gagged at the thought of his fangs ripping through her fragile skin.
Cold flooded his being. If Holly Evernight was no more, he was doomed. That was as good a reason as any for him to feel this… this fear. But no, he was fairly certain that, had he harmed Evernight, he wouldn’t be lying in comfort now.
“In her room. And that’s ‘Miss Evernight’ to you, boyo.”
The woman certainly knew her place, didn’t she?
Nan watched him as he sat up. He’d been bathed and was wearing an old-fashioned nightshirt of thick, red-and-green plaid flannel with a bit of ruff along the collar. Of all the indignities he’d suffered, this topped it. He glared down at the offending garment, wanting to take it off but refraining from giving the old bird a show. Not that she’d mind, he suspected. “You aren’t an ordinary housekeeper, are you?”
Nan cackled. “What was your first clue?”
His lip curled. “What are you?” Now that he’d paid the woman a bit of attention, he felt her otherness. A low, constant thrum that spoke of ancient forests and unbreakable stone.
She settled into an armchair by the fire. “Forward of you, but I’ll answer.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him an arch look. “I’m a witch. Been with the Evernight family since 1809.”
Nan looked a bit worse for wear. Most witches of his acquaintance kept a youthful appearance. As she was a witch of undetermined power, and female, he did not say this, however. Unfortunately, his thoughts must have shown, for her glare grew in strength. “I’m cursed, if ye must know.”
“Aren’t we all?” Will’s chest fairly ached now. Pain was returning. He needed Evernight.
Nan snorted. “I’ve lost almost all my powers and am bound to stay an old woman when living Here. As I’m no longer welcome There, I haven’t seen my true self for quite some time.”
Here and There. Here being earth. There being another plane of existence, the place where the more ancient of the supernaturals dwelled or could travel to. Most demons, Will included, no longer had the power to travel back There. They were too far removed from their creator’s origins to have a strong enough connection. And then there was Nowhere, the place humans referred to as Hell.
Will liked to think of it as Hell too. And as much as part of him, the dark, pure-demon part of him, felt a certain kinship with Hell, it was not a place anyone in their right mind actually wanted to visit.
Mindful of the witch’s watchful gaze, Will left the bed. His head spun for a moment then he steadied. Already the pain of the metal taking over his flesh began to grow. It would never stop. The realization hit him in a wave of despondency.
Will limped over to the fire. He was cold. Bone deep cold. He ran his fingers through his hair before clutching a handful of it. Focus. The fleeting thought that Evernight could help him focus had him frowning. He glanced at the connecting door to her room, and the shooting pains in his flesh intensified. “The being I fought. He was a shadow crawler.”
“Aye. An advanced one.”
Will quirked a brow.
“The older ones that Adam created were beings of rotting flesh and mechanical parts. You and this other, you’re different.” She squinted at him, as though peering into his soul. “A more efficient model.”
“Oh, yes.” He gave a laugh. “Quite.” His dark amusement died as a thought occurred. “If Evernight made me…”
“You’re thinking she might have made that being too?”
“Didn’t she?” Will did not know how many experiments Evernight had conducted on Amaros’s behalf before getting around to him. His lower gut burned with ineffectual anger. Bloody science. Bloody mucking about with things it ought not touch.
“She only knows of one created. You.” Nan stood, her movements graceful and lithe, betraying her supernatural self despite her elderly appearance. When she faced him, her power fairly hummed, and it pricked at his skin, not at all a nice feeling. “That girl has suffered. You’ll not make her suffer more.”
“And I haven’t?” He was this altered… thing. Unnatural. The very nerve of this witch, ordering him about as if he were her puppy. He stared at her, daring her to make him do anything further this evening.
She held his gaze with interest. “You will protect her with your life.”
Will’s fangs began to itch. “She is in one piece, is she not?”
Nan’s thin nostrils flared. “So flippant, you are. When you’ve no idea with what you meddle.” The fire in the hearth gave a loud, sharp snap as she tilted her head. “The Evernights are nothing to be trifled with, not if you want to come out of the thing intact.”
He snorted. “Spare me the theatrics. Power relies on controlling through fear, of which I have none.” None in regard to his life, that was. He’d been far too afraid of losing Evernight’s for his comfort.
“I am not speaking of mere power,” Nan said. “But ruthless cruelty. Which gives not a fig about fear.”
“Ruthless and cruel?” He shook his head. “I hardly see Miss Evernight and her kin as ruthless. Cold and clinical, perhaps.”
Nan’s stony expression did not crack. “It is not this particular branch of the Evernight family. It is from whence they came.” She smiled then, cold and dark. “Tell me, sanguis, what sort of ancient would send witches and elves to guard a family?”
There were bloody elves in this house? Felix. He must be. The bastard was too graceful and handsome to be a mere human servant. Bloody damn it all. This eve was growing worse and worse.
“Have you any notion of what spawned the elementals?” Nan a
sked. “Not many do anymore. Not many want to remember, for fear of calling up that dark power.”
To give voice to something was to give it power. Every good little demon knew as much. Will swallowed hard. He had a good guess now but, as Nan suggested, he really didn’t want to say.
Unfortunately, she said it for him. “Fae.”
Unease settled over Will like an icy counterpane. An old dread that spoke to his soul. Will refused to glance about, no matter how much it felt as though a fae might pop up at the word. Despite the sweet, pretty beings that humans loved to depict as fae, they were anything but kind. As old as primus demons, and just as rare, a true faire could rip a soul to shreds. They were said to be tricksters, and, yes, cruel and ruthless beyond compare.
“Aye, you understand. And the ancient whose blood runs through the Evernight family will not be pleased should one be harmed.”
Will shook himself out of his childlike fright. Ghost stories for supernaturals. That was all this was. “If they are so powerful, then why are assassins on Miss Evernight’s tail? Why hasn’t this great and powerful ancient stopped them all?”
“Good question. Why do you suppose?” Not an answer then. So the old witch was hiding something. Or lying through her teeth.
He merely stared at her, annoyed now. And she gave him a cheeky grin. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps they want the two of you together?” The words were barely out of her mouth before she went pale and seemed to choke, as if something struck her in the throat. Will was of a mind to fetch her water, but she took a deep breath and appeared unharmed.
“I cannot begin to fathom why her kin would want me around,” Will said truthfully. But if they did, it was in his best interest to keep his distance from Evernight. Which would be easier said than done. As if reading his thoughts, Nan nodded.
“Best to start thinking on that, boy.” She was still pale, but it was clear that she was done with him. She moved to go, dismissing him with a simple turn of her back. “And stay out of the mistress’s room!”
Chapter Seven
Holly had finished the last stroke of her nightly hair brushing when Nan entered the dressing room.
“How fares our guest?” Holly had last seen him being hauled off by footmen after she’d pulled the metal back from invading his lean frame. Nan had promised to look after him.
“Sleeping.” Nan picked up an errant stocking that Holly had discarded upon changing. “I checked on him so don’t you go checking on him,” she added with an emphatic look of warning. “You’ve warn yourself out.”
“I am perfectly fine.” Her cheeks heated. “Nor had I intended to seek out Mr. Thorne.” Blasted Nan knew her too well by half.
The woman harrumphed before her expression turned serious. “We found something.” She held out her palm, in which rested a black dagger. “The wee devil that broke in left this behind.”
Holly eyed the thing as though it were a bomb. She knew that dagger. “Leave it with me.”
Nan frowned. “I’ve noticed your experiment has a similar one tattooed on his arm. Best you be asking him why.”
“He is not my ‘experiment.’ ” But Nan was correct; she needed to ask. What did the dagger mean?
Time for a change of subject. “Why,” Holly asked as she set down the silver-backed brush, “is it so cold in the house?”
Nan’s thin mouth went thinner. “The boiler was rattling like an untended kettle. Felix ordered it turned down. I was coming to tell you when you rang.”
A sly hint of censure there. Holly’s lips curled in a small smile. “My intention was not to question your management skills, Nanny. I’m simply cold and irritable.”
Nan made a noise of amusement. “If you weren’t questioning everything, I do believe I’d die of shock.” She bustled about the room, picking up Holly’s discarded boots. “Would you like to see to the boiler now, lass?”
Holly smothered a yawn. “Honestly, no. I’m knackered.” She’d likely do more harm than good if her mind wasn’t completely on task. The boiler had an intricate design that required one’s full attention. Worse, it was housed outside the main building for safety purposes. Holly had no intention of venturing to any outbuildings this night.
“I’ll put more coal on the fire,” Nan said. And did just that before leaving her.
Coal fires were inefficient and smoky. Something that became fairly obvious when one’s efficient radiator heating system decided to die.
Alone in her bed, she hugged a pillow to her chest and moved her feet about to increase the friction, thus bringing forth a bit more heat. She really ought to go out to fix the boiler before the pipes froze. But she could not summon the energy. Rest. She needed rest. So why was she wide awake?
“Bother,” she muttered against her pillow.
Her internal debate was still raging when the covers lifted on the far side of the bed, sending a blast of cold air over her.
“What the bleeding hell.” Holly whipped around as Thorne slid between the sheets, a mulish expression on his face.
“I have need.”
The declaration sent a hot bolt of shock through her center. When she merely gaped, he glared at her. “In pain here, love, if you don’t mind.”
He slid closer, gathering her up. Holly pressed a quelling hand against his chest. “Your pain is no excuse for invading my privacy. Or getting into my bed!” she added with heat, for he merely snorted and did not let go.
“It is the only reason I’d be here,” he said with feeling. “And you cannot find me too distasteful, as you left off your little electric wall tonight.”
“An oversight that I am now lamenting,” she said darkly.
His eyes flashed silver in the waning firelight. “Your mistake. Now, if you do not mind.” He gestured between him and her with his chin. “Get on with it, sweets.”
She wanted to throttle him. And would have, if their legs hadn’t become entangled, his hot and rough with crisp hair. She tried to ignore that. And ignore the sensation of being pressed bodily against his lean strength. Opening her fingers wide upon the center of his chest, she sent a bolt of power through him even as she pushed him away. “There,” she nearly snarled. “Now, kindly leave.” Had she been wanting to see him? She must have been momentarily afflicted by a bout of insanity.
Thorne rose up on one elbow, light gleaming over his altered flesh and glowing softly on his natural skin. Good lord above, was he naked? Holly gripped the covers so that she would not lift them and take a peek.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, as if she’d suggested something utterly ridiculous. “I’m sleeping here.”
“You most certainly are not.” She’d go mad. He was too much for her, lying as he was in her space, crowding her with his heat and seductive scent. His vitality alone had her body humming with unwanted excitement.
Thorne raked a hand through his unruly hair, pushing the mass of it back, and peered down at her as if she were addlepated. “What do you suggest I do? Lie in my bed, writhing in agony and slowly losing my wits? Until I attack someone, perhaps your pretty maid? Or ought I stay with you and feel a measure of calm? Get some much needed rest so that I might track down this bounty on your head?”
Well, when put that way… Holly shook her head. “Must you lie so close? You’re crowding me.”
A slow smile pulled at his lips. “Bothers you, does it?” Dark eyes slid along her length, making her feel stark naked as opposed to being covered from toe to chin in layers of eiderdown. “You do seem rather stirred up.”
“Annoyed is the word to use.” Holly burrowed farther under the covers and moved away from him. Unfortunately the edge of the bed was at her back.
He grinned as if he realized the fact, and as if he did not believe her. “I’ll behave.” His solemn, almost innocent tone belied the evil twinkle in his eyes.
Beneath her hand, his heart pumped a steady rhythm. Holly hadn’t realized that she was still touching him. She moved to take her hand away whe
n he growled and slapped his bigger hand over hers. Trapping her there.
“If,” he amended, “you keep touching me.”
“That is impossible. Once I fall asleep,” which was appearing to be less and less likely, “I cannot control where I place my hands.”
“I thought of that,” he said, far too happily for comfort. Before she could blink, he grabbed her wrist and snapped something over it. “So I thought we’d use these.” Another snap rang out, and he lifted his arm to display a cuff upon his wrist and the chain that ran from his to hers.
The cuff on Holly’s seemed to burn down to her bones. Rage and unmitigated shock choked her for an endless moment as she stared up at his smug face. She fairly shook with fury.
“You…” She gritted her teeth and found her voice. “You put a bloody shackle on me? You sodding chained me,” she screeched at his rapidly fading smile. “After he did!”
Thorne thrust his chin forward. Pugnacious little shite. “Come now. It’s silk-lined. Hardly the same thing at all. And it isn’t as if I am not suffering the same indignity.”
Holly saw stars of red. “Get it off! Get it the bloody hell off of me.” Heedless, she punched at his hard, solid chest, each blow of her left hand restricted by the pull of the cuff. “Get it off now, or I swear to God, I will push a sea of hurt straight into your rusty, metal heart.” She was screaming now, her throat raw.
The cuff seemed to grow tighter, threatening to break her bones.
“Get. It. Off!”
A solid weight bore her further down into the feather bed. Arms bracketed her, holding her close, preventing her from flailing. “All right, love.” A deep voice at her ear. “All right. Just let me.”
She wiggled, aiming a knee towards the softer bits she knew were there. A grunt, and she was held more firmly. “Christ’s thorns. I’m taking it off, yes?”
The sound of metal clicking shot through her panic, and the cuff on her wrist fell away. A moment later, the hard body on top of her rolled away. Holly sucked in a great gulp of air, the cool rush of it clearing her head, then she bolted upright.
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