Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 2

by Retribution(lit)

  "Escaped is what you mean. Are you angry with Val for taking away Shai and rescuing Maeve or because he, too, escaped you? Is it because he beat you at your own game? He's one of the few vampires that don't cower before you, and that bothers you doesn't it?" She concentrated on her words rather than the man who was pressed so tightly against her. Panic threatened to strangle her as a scream built in her chest.

  He shoved her, knocking her head into the wall with a sharp rap. "He did not beat me and neither did you. You came back to me not long ago, and you will again," he growled. His hands slid up her back to grip her shoulders, his breath, stale with old blood, on her cheek. "You betrayed me. But then again you betray all the men in your life don't you, my dearest?"

  Jennifer stiffened at his verbal jab. "I was taught by the master. Aren't we a little old for groping in a closet?" she snapped, struggling for a tone of disdain.

  Mikhail laughed and then released her abruptly. He flicked a wall switch and the narrow staircase was flooded with light. "If you prefer a bed, I can accommodate you." He moved away, gesturing for her to begin the journey down the twisting steps.

  "Not on your life." She started down the circular staircase, ducking her head to avoid hitting it on the steps above.

  "I wouldn't bet on that if I were you." His hand slipped neatly beneath the weight of her long hair, finding the sensitive nape of her neck. She stumbled and had to put her hands on the rough wall to avoid plunging down the remaining steps. "Whose life will you bet on it? Miranda's?"

  "Stop that," she snapped.

  Mikhail laughed again and withdrew his hand. "The gods hate cowards."

  "I would hardly call it cowardice. I would call it good taste," she replied, starting down the steps again, this time keeping herself at least three steps in front of him.

  "Still mourning for Conor MacNaughten, my dear? Or shall I call him 'The One Who Got Away'? How about your 'Knight in Tarnished Silver'?" He taunted. "He left and never looked back, did he? Called you a few choice names if I remember correctly. Of course your name was Lilith then, wasn't it? Was betrayal your middle name then too, darling Lilith?"

  Jennifer clutched at the narrow banister, grateful that Mikhail could not see her stricken expression. She'd driven Mac away for his own good, not that he would have seen it that way had he known the circumstances for her defection. Both of their lives had been damaged, hers irrevocably, by her actions. On that night, over a century ago, she'd been left no choice. But not this time. The vampire wouldn't win this game and she would gladly forfeit her life in an effort to stop him from destroying the lives of others.

  She forced a carefree laugh from her tight throat. "We parted amicably enough over a century ago, Mikhail. Everyone knows that. Why bring up ancient history?"

  "Is that all it is? Has the love of your life been relegated to 'ancient history' in your mind?" He chuckled and Jennifer dearly wanted to drive a rusty nail into his heart. "Somehow I don't think so. I think he mattered very much and he still does, much more than you are letting on. Of course, I alone know that he really wasn't the man for you."

  "Then once again, Mikhail, you are wrong as you were then. I never thought he was the man for me."

  Engrossed in conversation, Jennifer missed the bottom step. She staggered through the doorway, clutching the doorframe to regain her balance. It opened into a cramped, dank hallway lined with three black doors, each with heavy padlocks.

  She glanced back at Mikhail. "Is this Let's Make A Deal and I get to pick a door?"

  He shook his head, his blond hair gleaming in the subdued lighting. "No, I would say it is more like my own personal chamber of delights." He moved around her easily and strode to the middle door. He unlocked the padlock and opened the door with a flourish. He stepped back, allowing her to once again lead the way.

  Jennifer saw with a start that the walls of the small room were covered in a shiny reflective material. Candlelight glowed on the walls, giving it an odd golden gleam. She felt like she'd been wrapped in tinfoil. On closer inspection, she noted that thin sheets of beaten sterling silver had been affixed to the walls, floor and ceiling so not a crack of plaster or wood was visible. No vampire or revenant alive would be able to telepathically link to someone on the outside and call for help.

  Including her.

  The door closed with a soft snick and she struggled to quell her burgeoning panic. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the problem at hand. Now was not the time for hysterics. Miranda needed her calm and focused. Her friend's life depended on the outcome of the next few minutes. In control, she turned toward the narrow bed and the battered woman who lay imprisoned upon it.

  Under normal circumstances, Miranda of Glencoe was a strikingly beautiful woman. Almost six feet in height, she was built like a Rubenesque statue. Now she lay on the bed, emaciated and pale. Her long black hair was dirty and tangled, her wrists raw from the silver chains that kept her immobilized. Jennifer noted the tattered clothing and the partially healed bite marks on the woman's throat.

  "What have you done to her?" she whispered, unable to hide her horror.

  Mikhail tittered. "Only what I knew would bring Val running."

  Jennifer swallowed the bile that burned at the back of her throat. Rage clawed at her heart. If it took everything she had for the rest of her days on earth, she would see to it that Mikhail paid for the ill he had perpetrated on Miranda. Even if he killed her in the process, it was a small price to pay for a woman who had been one of her only friends so long ago.

  She forced herself to move toward the bed, her usually graceful movements jerky. She seated herself on the edge of the bed before her knees collapsed beneath her. Hesitantly she touched the woman's hand, where a golden Celtic knot ring gleamed. Jennifer drew her fingers over the familiar pattern that matched the silver ring on her own right hand. A ring of eternity given a lifetime ago from an old vampire to a young and frightened revenant.

  A low moan escaped Miranda. From the pale hue of her skin and her apparent weakness, she surmised it had been some time since the vampire had fed. Luckily Miranda was an Elder and could go for a long period of time without feeding and she wouldn't sustain any lasting damage.

  "Miranda, it's me, Jennifer." She gently stroked the woman's dark hair until her eyes fluttered.

  "Jen," she whispered through cracked lips.

  "Hush now. I had to make sure you were alright." Tears burned the back of her eyes as she noted the hollow look of Miranda's expression. What she had endured, Jennifer didn't know, but she had a few ideas of the terror dealt at the hands of Mikhail.

  "You are in danger here. Leave this evil place," Miranda whispered. "Tell Val that I have caused him enough pain..."

  "How noble," Mikhail sneered.

  "Tell him to take his women far from here." Miranda's voice failed her.

  "No," Mikhail shrieked. "Don't you dare tell him that."

  In the blink of an eye, Jennifer was hurled away from Miranda's side. She hit the wall with a metallic crash and slid down into a heap on the slippery floor. Dazed, she struggled to her feet as Mikhail loomed over the defenseless woman bound to the bed.

  As he raised his hand to strike Miranda, Jennifer launched herself at his back. She hit him hard, knocking him off balance enough to keep him from striking her friend. Together they fell over the foot of the bed and onto the floor. Over and over they wrestled until she ended up on the bottom, his body pinning hers. Roughly he shoved between her thighs, pressing his crotch against the apex.

  "I love women who fight," he ground out, capturing her flailing arms.

  She struggled, fear making her crazed, and she tried to do anything to get away from him. She clawed at his hands but was unable to inflict any damage because he held her wrists too tightly. Whipping her head around, she snapped at him with her teeth. Abruptly he shoved his arm against her windpipe, forcing her head upward to meet his gaze.

  "If you bite me, I will tear you to pieces and feed you to my crows,"
he spoke slowly. He slid his hand downward to roughly clutch at her breast.

  Jennifer forced her voice to remain steady, "And if you rape me you will never get your retribution from Val. I will see to it that he takes Shai and Maeve far enough away from you that you will never find them."

  He stopped his rough caress. "You are making this so difficult," he growled. He rocked his hips against her. "Hmm...I could change my game plan. Maybe I will let Miranda go if you submit to me, Jennifer. Don't you remember how much fun we had? We could have that again, but you're going to spoil everything aren't you?"

  "'Fun,'" she spat at him. "I don't remember anything f-f-fun..." she choked.

  He shook his head sadly. "Then you don't remember it as I do. What a pity you cannot remember that night so long ago when..."

  "I remember everything from that night. All of It." she snarled.

  He rocked his hips against her again and she strangled a cry before it could make itself heard. "We could have that again," he whispered, his fingers digging painfully into her breast.

  She glared into his soulless eyes, her breathing harsh. "Hear me now, Mikhail. I will never willingly submit to you."

  He shrugged, "As if your willingness makes a difference to me. I take what I want and I destroy what I can't have. So be it."

  "I don't think Gaby would like to see you in this position, would she?" Jennifer tried to ignore his hand as it tightened painfully. She would definitely have some bruises tomorrow.

  Mikhail laughed, "Gaby does as I say, not the other way around. Nevertheless, I should probably keep my mind on business shouldn't I?" He shifted his hold upward, away from her breast. Tenderly he stroked the slender line of her throat, his movements methodical. "You need to run back and tell Val that I have his little Miranda. I will accept in exchange for her measly life, a meeting with him. He is to come alone to the Chapel des Anges Perdu outside Calais, France four days from this evening - midnight."

  She tensed as he brushed the hair away from the side of her neck. She swallowed audibly as his fingers lightly stroked the base of her throat. "No," she protested, renewing her struggles. A scream began building, as she knew the unthinkable was about to happen as he slowly lowered his head.

  "Midnight, dearest Jennifer." His icy lips caressed her throat as a scream was torn, against her will, from her very soul. "Midnight." Pain ripped through her body as Mikhail began to feed.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  Outside Guildford, England

  "You smell like a whore house."

  Conor MacNaughten raised his glass of brandy and saluted his friend. "When you demand my presence at a moment's notice, you take your chances."

  Val laughed. "Most mere mortals aren't having sex at noon on a weekday my friend."

  "Only if they are lucky," Mac smirked.

  "If I had to wait to reach you at a time when you weren't having sex then it would be too late. How do you say, 'Hell would have frozen over first' is it?" Val smothered his laughter. "It must be tedious knowing that no woman can resist your charms..."

  Except one.

  Mac frowned. Now where did that thought come from? He forced a smile. "Anything worth doing is worth doing right. I do try to excel in my duty with the ladies and I never let them go home disappointed. It is a moral imperative."

  "Interrupted did I?" Val snickered.

  "You didn't interrupt me, but the lady didn't get hers." Mac chuckled as he remembered Catherine's enraged face as he left her bed. "Then again, she'd already had four before that one. Just a few minutes more though...."

  Val's laughter rang out again. "A true gentleman reveals nothing...."

  "Now you wait just a minute! That did not come out of your mouth. Valentin, the lady-killer of Paris in the late seventeenth century is mocking me? Val, the man who was laughingly referred to as the gentleman who was never unarmed due to the sword he carried in his trousers? I remember the night you and the Armand triplets and I broke that bed in Provence. And then there was the Baroness Von Ravensfeld and her trio of pupils, was it? Though I would wager that what she was teaching them was not what their mère had paid for." Mac raised his brandy glass in mock salute, "You were an animal, much to the delight of the ladies."

  Val smiled in memory. "Ah yes, Belle, Murielle, Elise and Grunhilde. How could I ever forget them? If I remember correctly, both you and I had problems walking back to the carriage that evening."

  "They couldn't walk for a week, though." He smiled fondly at his vampire friend. "That is the best thing about being a revenant. All the women I could want."

  Except for her, his mind taunted. He took another drink, willing the voice to go away and leave him in peace.

  Val nodded. "Those times are long gone, my friend. Now I have Shai and my wild oats have been sown for good."

  Mac swirled the glass of amber liquid slowly, frowning. "While I do know what a gem Shai is, do you not fear that you will grow bored with her?"

  Val's bark of laughter brought his gaze up from the glass. "Of course not, Mac. You've known Shai for the past ten years. Is anything even remotely boring about her? That woman excites me more than all the others combined. I only have to look at her and I know that I am in deep and this is fine with me. There never will be another woman for me."

  Unbidden, images of Lilith Snowden crowded Mac's mind. Laughing, singing, racing through the Bois de Boulogne at 2 A.M., the taste of her lips and the low sounds she made in her throat when she became excited. Almost instantly he became hard. He scowled.

  "I see you know what I mean." Val said slowly.

  He shoved the images away and ruthlessly attempted to control his wayward emotions. Lilith had left him for another man. He could never forgive, nor forget that slight. One day she'd pay for the pain she had inflicted upon his soul. A pain he would barely admit to himself. He chose to deliberately misunderstand than to tread on the hallowed ground that was his battered heart. "Chatty Cathy is hardly someone I wish to spend the rest of my eternity with," he drawled. "I can barely stand her for a few hours a time. That woman doesn't realize silence is truly golden."

  Val let the moment pass by shaking his head and trying to unsuccessfully smother a smile. "You're still as bad as you were in the 17th century. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you shouldn't talk about a lady that way?"

  "Only if she is a lady and trust me, Catherine is no lady. She is a well-trodden path." Mac closed his eyes and took a large swallow, enjoying the sharp burn of the aged liquid and the faint blurring of bitter memories better left untouched.

  "I didn't ask you here to discuss your love life," Val's voice turned uncharacteristically serious. "I have some news about our illustrious friend Mikhail. He has turned up again and it appears he has kidnapped Miranda from Sinjin's home in Cornwall."

  Mac jerked and his eyes flew open. He searched his friend's face, looking for any sign of laughter in his eyes. He saw none. This was no joke. He knew Val's history with the beautiful Miranda of Glencoe. She'd come into Val's life during a time of despair. Vampires that lived for any long period of time sooner or later ran into adjustment problems. The world changed rapidly while the vampires themselves remained static. Mortal friends and acquaintances married, had children and grew old and then they died while vampires watched them like some kind of macabre voyeur. As if the human race were a theatrical play put on for the benefit of vampires. It was enough to drive the strongest of vampires insane and it happened quite frequently. Miranda had saved Val from that fate.

  The friendship between them ran deep and spanned centuries. Its only rupture had been the arrival of Shai into Val's life. Miranda had made the mistake of falling in love with her old friend but when Shai arrived, she'd departed gracefully. While they hadn't spoken in the last ten years, Mac knew that Val missed his friend. Mikhail's action, in Val's eyes, was tantamount to war.

  "So what are we going to do?" he asked quietly, setting the glass on the small end table.

  Val's dark eyes met
his and Mac saw gratitude reflected in their black depths. "According to Jennifer, Mikhail wants to meet with me next week."

  He stiffened at the utterance of that loved and hated name. Lilith, Jennifer, two very different names for one deceitful woman. "What does she have to do with this?"

  "Jennifer confronted Mikhail earlier tonight. She went to his home and demanded to see Miranda."

  "She did what?" Startled, he leapt from the chair.

  "She went to Mikhail's estate outside Manchester earlier this evening. She heard from Renault that Gabrielle DesNoir and Mikhail had kidnapped Miranda. For some reason she went there alone to confront him."

  Anger raced through his system and along with that a tinge of fear that surprised him. Fear for Jennifer? That was absurd. Mac knew very well how dangerous Mikhail was, but Jennifer had a long-standing relationship with the vampire. While he still didn't know exactly what had gone on between Jennifer and Mikhail a century ago, he knew it was enough for her to choose the vampire over himself. Had she been in love with Mikhail? She'd certainly tried to convince him of that, but somehow he hadn't thought so. Her story of undying love for the vampire had never rung true with him. Something niggled at him about the whole affair. It was something he never could put his finger on and Jennifer would never confide to him. Not that it mattered now. She'd made her choices, now she could live with the consequences. He certainly had.

  Mac glanced at Val and caught the questions in his gaze. He looked away. "Of all the stupid things...." he began.

  "She paid the price," Val inserted quietly. "Berate her if you must, but she has paid the price for her foolishness."

  Mac struggled for calm while his mind whirled like a dervish. Even though Jennifer had walked away from him when he had needed her the most, he still had unfinished business with her. Images of Jennifer hurt and bleeding crowded his mind. If Mikhail had hurt her, he would gladly kill the vampire with his bare hands and feed his corpse to the wolves. The strength of his emotions shocked him. "Is she ok?" he ground out.