Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series

by Maggie Shayne

  Too many. Too many for him to take on alone. He would likely be killed himself before he managed to get to Nicodimus, if he stormed the house the way his instincts told him to do. No, he needed a plan. A way to get them outside, to scatter them, leaving his quarry alone and vulnerable.

  Nicodimus was still weak, though healing rapidly. And Marten wanted to spring on the ancient immortal before he grew strong again.

  At first, Marten had thought to wait, that the others would leave eventually. But when days had passed and they still hadn’t done so, he knew the time had come to make his move.

  Many a witch had some innate skill that stood out in him, and that skill grew stronger when the witch in question was an immortal High Witch.

  Marten had such a skill. One he had honed down through the ages, until he’d achieved near perfection. It was that skill, he realized at last, that would bring this standoff to a head. He could drive them from the house most easily.

  His skill was the art of telepathic combustion.

  Marten could make things burn.

  Chapter 20

  NICODIMUS HAD THE remote control in his hands, and thumbed buttons as his eyes remained riveted to the television screen. “Amazing,” he kept muttering. “No matter how often you explain this, I still do not understand.”

  He looked, Arianna thought, like a man out of time. Big, and finely developed, but from work rather than workouts. A balanced, muscular power that emanated from him even when you couldn’t see what lay beneath his clothes. But Arianna had seen. And she wished she could again.

  Lying beneath him as he moved on top of her inside that stone circle so long ago, holding him inside her, had been like riding the untamed fury of the elements. He was the physical perfection and strength of earth. He was the life and breath of air. The sizzling heat of fire, and the depth and silken caress of water. Gods, no wonder she’d loved him from the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

  He stood now, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, which had become his uniform, though he admitted to missing his kilt. She’d promised to get him one. Frankly, she couldn’t wait to see Nicodimus in a kilt again.

  Nidaba rested in a large beanbag chair in the rearmost corner of the room. Arianna had tried to convince the woman to bathe and wash her hair, but she had only finally given in when Nicodimus had begun telling her about the wonders to be found in the bathroom.

  If she were familiar with indoor plumbing, she didn’t say so. In fact, she refused to say anything at all about where she had been, how she’d managed to get by for all the centuries since Arianna had last seen her. When asked, she retreated behind a wall of silence, and her eyes went blank.

  Sensing it might be too much for her to bear talking about, Arianna stopped asking.

  Arianna had found a black dress of similar cut to the one Nidaba had been wearing, and she’d replaced the tattered one with it while Nidaba had been in the bath. Nidaba wore that now. Her own had been so old it had fallen to bits when Arianna had tried to wash it. Nidaba gave no indication whether she had noticed the change or not.

  She brooded, Nidaba did. Her gaze was always hostile. Her reactions were nervous and startled all the time. She simply sat, watching. Silent and watching. But she was clean, at least, and her hair long and straight and shining, if in need of a trim.

  Arianna went to her with a plate of food now, holding on tight to the sides of the dish in case Nidaba tried to knock it to the floor with a swipe of her hand, as she had done no less than three times in the past week. “Are you hungry, Nidaba? Would you like to eat?”

  Nidaba gave the plate a thorough looking over. Fried chicken tonight, with french fries. Nicodimus had fallen in love with greasy modern cooking.

  “I detest it,” she said, “all of it!” but she took the plate out of Arianna’s hands and ripped into a chicken leg like a lion ripping into a rabbit. “Why do you not roast your meat as is proper?” she mumbled around the food. “Why must you try to kill us with this horrible fare? It is unfit to eat!” Within seconds she’d stripped the meat to the bone, and was yanking up the second piece. She paused, and glared up at Arianna. “Do not think I am fooled by your make-believe kindness, wench. You may have taken Nicodimus in with your wiles, but not me! I’ll not let you destroy him again. Not again!” Then she went stiff and her eyes widened.

  “What is it, Nidaba?”

  At Arianna’s question, Nicodimus turned from the television set to look at Nidaba’s frightened face.

  “The window! Someone is watching from the window!” she shrieked. The food flew from her lap as she leapt to her feet. The plate shattered, French fries and chicken bones scattering over the floor, and Nidaba ran into the bedroom. The door slammed hard behind her.

  Arianna sighed. Duncan and Raven had hurried in from the kitchen at the noise. “She throw another tantrum?” Raven asked softly.

  Nodding at the mess on the floor, Arianna bent to begin picking it up.

  “Let me,” Duncan said. “You’ll cut yourself.” He moved her aside and tended to the mess himself.

  Nicodimus met Arianna’s gaze as she sighed and sank into a chair. “I just wish I knew how to get through to her,” she whispered.

  “I mentioned Dearborne’s name to her,” Nicodimus said softly, glancing at the door as if afraid Nidaba might overhear. “Just as you suggested I should. But she became like stone. As if she could neither hear nor see me. Just went still, barely breathing, it seemed.” As he spoke, he moved to the window to stare through the glass, looking around in wonder at the town outside. “I see no one.”

  “I doubt anyone was there,” Arianna replied, but she too, looked when Nicodimus moved away. “She’s so frightened. I feel sorry for her.”

  “Oh, Arianna, for goodness sake, how can you?”

  Raven’s exclamation drew all three sets of eyes. But she only rushed on. “She’s mean, and she hates you, and she threatens you at least ten times a day. It’s obvious she wants Nicodimus all to herself and sees you as her only obstacle. My Goddess, Arianna, I can barely sleep nights for fear that creature is going to sneak into your room and murder you to get you out of her way.”

  “That is not going to happen,” Nicodimus said quietly.

  Arianna tore her gaze from her sister’s to stare at him. But he said no more. So she turned back to Raven again. “It’s not like you to be so cruel. The woman is ill, Raven.”

  “The woman is insane, Arianna. And if I had my way, she’d be out of this house before she starts acting on these delusions she has that you are to blame for what happened to Nic five hundred years ago. She wants you dead. I can see it in her eyes.”

  Arianna lowered her head. “Maybe she does. But they are not delusions, Raven. As much as you love me, you cannot admit that I am less than perfect. But I am, and my mistakes did cost Nicodimus his life.”

  “And you haven’t punished yourself enough for that all these years? Is that it? Do you feel you have to let her punish you now, too, just so you can feel you’ve suffered thoroughly enough?”

  Arianna sighed heavily, but said nothing.

  Nicodimus moved closer to her, and took her arm gently in his big hand. “Is that true, Arianna? Is that why you allow Nidaba to stay? Due to some sense that you must pay for whatever you did to me in the past?”

  She looked up slowly and met his gaze. “No, Nicodimus. It’s nothing to do with that, I just–”

  Nicodimus held up a hand for silence, and without taking his eyes from Arianna, he said, “Duncan, Raven, if you would not mind. . .”

  “We’ll give you some privacy,” Duncan said quickly, and taking Raven’s arm, he led her up the stairs to the bedroom they shared.

  “Come,” Nicodimus said when they had gone. “Sit with me for a time.”

  With a sigh, Arianna did as he asked. She sat down on the small sofa. Nicodimus took a seat beside her, his body turned toward her, and gathered her hands in both of his. “It is long past time we had this talk, do you not agree?”
/>
  Not meeting his eyes, she nodded. “I suppose so.”

  “I have not told you this, Arianna, but I have had . . . memories. Of you. Of us.”

  She looked up quickly, drew in a short breath.

  “I remember only small glimpses into the past. Riding together, this one is clear. You had long hair then. It flew behind you in the wind and captured the sunlight. I could barely keep my attention focused on guiding my mount because it was so beautiful.”

  She blinked in surprise, a lump coming into her throat so suddenly she nearly choked.

  “And there are other things, too. I remember how I loved listening to you talk. I remember your voice, and the song of the highlands in your speech. And your quick temper, and your impulsive nature and how often I feared it would get you into trouble.”

  She smiled a bit, nodding at him. “It often did get me into trouble. But you were usually nearby to get me out again.”

  “I remember holding you as you cried at your sister’s grave. I remember when some lad cut you to see if you would bleed, and the fear and horror I felt as I tended the wound.” He shook the remembered fear away. “You were furious at him.”

  “You punched him in the nose,” she said softly.

  He smiled. “I should have done more.” He met her eyes, and his smile died slowly. “I remember making love to you, in a sacred place surrounded by stones, Arianna. In the midst of the falling snow. And I remember what I felt for you then–”

  “Don’t.” She got to her feet quickly, putting her back to him. “Stop now, Nicodimus. Your thoughts are confused. You didn’t feel anything for me then.”

  “But I did.” He got up, and came behind her, his hands sliding over her shoulders as he turned her gently. “I still do.”

  She closed her eyes as tears threatened. “You will change your mind when you remember the rest.”

  “It will come soon enough,” he said. “But it will not change my mind. I was suspicious of you at first–”

  “With good reason! You came to hate me before you died, Nicodimus.”

  “But you’ve shown nothing but kindness to me, and to Nidaba as well. No, Arianna, I could never have hated you. If anyone has cause to hate, it is you who have cause to hate me. For you loved me, freely and generously, you loved me. This I remember very well. Yet I, in my stubbornness, continued to deny feeling anything for you in return, even when I–”

  “Please don’t,” she whispered. “If you say it now only to take it back later . . . . Nicodimus, I don’t think I’ll ever get past it.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want you to ‘get past it. But I will not say the words if they frighten you so. I will hope instead that my heart can speak for itself.”

  He drew her closer then, and bent to press his lips to hers. For the life of her, Arianna could not pull away. He kissed her so tenderly, so gently. And when she parted her lips on a shuddering sigh, and wound her arms around his neck, he kissed her harder. Deeper. He pulled her hips tight to his own, and drove his tongue into her mouth, tasting all within his reach, plundering her until her head was spinning and her heart, pounding.

  And then he lifted his head away, and his eyes sparkled down into hers. “I would like very much to hold you in my arms tonight, Arianna. I want to take you to my bed. Will you let me?”

  She couldn’t speak. So she only nodded, then panicked and the words spilled out before she could stop them. “I will never love you again, Nicodimus. I won’t let you break me that way. Not again.”

  He stared at her, and finally sighed and shook his head, “I hurt you very badly, then, didn’t I?”

  She nodded in jerky motions. “I gave you all of me, all I had to give. But it was never enough for you. And you only threw it back in my face.”

  “Then I was a fool. And whatever you did to me in the end, was likely well deserved, Arianna.”

  Lowering her head, she shook it slowly. “No. You warned me after all. You told me you could never feel anything for me. I just couldn’t accept it.”

  “Nor should I have asked you to.” He searched her eyes, saw the way she trembled, she was certain of it. “I want you very badly, Arianna.”

  “I . . . I. . .” She stared up at him, incapable of refusing him. She was his, tonight and every night, if he wanted her. She hated feeling powerless, craving him this much when she ought to know better than to fall into the same old trap. Loving a man who could not love her back. It was self-destructive. And painful. And she deserved better, dammit.

  “No, Arianna,” he said softly, his eyes roaming her face. “Not tonight. Not now, with this unsettled between us. You’d give still more of yourself if I asked you now, wouldn’t you? No, don’t answer. I will not ask any more of you. Not now, not like this.”

  “Nicodimus?”

  He shook his head. “Go on, little cat. Go up to your bed. And do not worry about Nidaba. I will hear her if she moves from her rooms. I will keep you safe, I vow it.”

  Little cat. He did remember. Arianna drew a deep breath, hating the weakness only he could bring to life in her. Damn him. She was strong. She didn’t need him to love her, didn’t even need him to forgive her. Much less to protect her.

  She didn’t!

  And she didn’t love him, either.

  Only a fool would love a man who’d rejected her as many times as Nicodimus had rejected Arianna.

  Only a totally hopeless fool. And Arianna was nobody’s fool.

  * * * *

  MARTEN FOCUSED HIS intent on the small house. His eyes bored into it as he drew the heat up from the core of him, holding it and letting it build. Hotter. Stronger. Sweat broke out on his face and arms. His breaths came short and fast, and his body shuddered with the effort of containing the energy. And yet he held it inside him as it grew. His body heated, and he knew his skin was turning blood-red. A white-hot haze filled his vision, brighter, blinding, but still he did not blink, did not close his eyes.

  Finally, with a shout, he released the energy. It shot forth, a ball of spectral flame that penetrated the house at its base, near the back. As it flooded out of him, Marten went weak. Nothing remained inside him, no strength, no energy, and his body sank limply to the ground. He lay there, still, waiting. His strength would return in a few moments. It always did.

  While he waited, he watched the house as his vision slowly cleared and returned to normal. He saw the soft glow from within. Saw it build. Watched it spread.

  Marten smiled.

  * * * *

  ARIANNA LAY AWAKE in her bed, restless and troubled. So Nicodimus wanted her again. It was no surprise, or at least, it shouldn’t be. He’d wanted her before. He just hadn’t loved her. And although he might think that had changed, she knew better. She had spent too much time convincing herself he could never love her to believe so easily now. Once he remembered, it would all change.

  And why would he bother with her anyway, when it was obvious his feelings for Nidaba ran far deeper, and were far older than anything he could ever feel for Arianna? He spent countless hours with Nidaba. Whenever she ventured out of the room she’d claimed as her own, he would be at her side, talking to her about the amazing things he’d seen or learned about in this new world. Or reminiscing about the past, recounting various adventures they’d shared together. Asking gently if she remembered.

  She always did.

  He spent time with Nidaba in her room as well. Less now that she was venturing out more often, but still, a lot of time passed with the two of them holed up back there. Arianna didn’t like to think about what they were doing. She’d barely restrained the urge to walk in on them and find out. At least Nicodimus didn’t sleep in there with Nidaba. He’d taken to spending his nights on the sofa. Insisted on it, in fact, though Arianna had offered her own room to him. Maybe because it was closer to Nidaba. Maybe because he could get up and slip into the bedroom with Nidaba in the night, and no one would know. Maybe . . . .

  Maybe it was none of her business. She had no claims o
n Nicodimus.

  Well, one claim, but it hardly deserved consideration. Still, technically at least, she was his wife.

  He didn’t know that yet. Hadn’t remembered that far. But he would, in time. And she wondered what he would make of it when he finally did remember.

  The scream from below ripped through Arianna’s psyche so deeply that she was on her feet before she was aware of moving at all. She yanked the bedroom door open, smelled smoke, and felt her heart leap in her chest. Racing into the hall, she peered down over the railing into the living room, and saw Nidaba tugging with all her might on Nicodimus’s arm.

  Fire! There’s fire! Come with me!” Nidaba shrieked.

  Nicodimus only pried her hands away, and pointed to the front door. “Go, get outside, now! I have to get Arianna!”

  “Damn Arianna! She’ll only get you killed again, Nicodimus! Come with me now!” She gripped him again, clung to him.

  Again he freed himself, shoving Nidaba forcefully toward the door, and turning he started up the stairs.

  “I won’t leave you,” Nidaba was screaming.

  Nicodimus ignored her, stopping halfway up when he glanced up and into Arianna’s eyes. “Go,” Arianna told him. “Get Nidaba outside. I’ll get Duncan and Raven and join you.”

  He shook his head firmly, just once, and a cloud of smoke wafted up between them. Nicodimus took the stairs rapidly, even as Arianna turned to race through the hall and pound on her sister’s bedroom door.

  Nicodimus came up behind her as she pounded and screamed, but there was no answer, and it was hot here. Hotter by the minute. From below she could hear the roar and crackle of flames now, accompanying Nidaba’s panicked shrieks, and a glow hovered beyond the smoke like some evil eye.