Vengeance: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 3

by Denise Tompkins

  Sighing, Hellion said, “Mo chroí, I’m not exactly sure how to break this to you.”

  “Probably best just to get it over with,” I croaked, my voice still a little raspy. The way his hands shook made me more nervous than his silence. “Yeah, get it over with.”

  Nodding, he started to explain, and with every word out of his mouth, a horrid realization settled over me. “The stone henge where your Evolution triggered was called Pickledean, Maddy. When your Evolution occurred, you were bonded to that henge as the Niteclif, and it became an entry and exit point for you.” He took a deep, shaky breath as if fortifying himself to go on. “The best the Council could tell, we knew you’d enter through a stone circle in Wiltshire around Midsummer’s Eve and you’d serve your ten years… Oh, Maddy.” His voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. “I’ll kill him for this.”

  He shot off the bed, startling me, and began to pace the perimeter of the room. He finally came to a halt at the end of the bed. Staring at me, he crawled up the mattress and gathered me in his arms again. “Maddy, just as you needed that circle to enter your Evolution, you needed it to get out of the evolutionary cycle and trigger the end of your service.” He waited.

  …to get out of the evolutionary cycle… Understanding was gradual, like the rise of the moon from the dark horizon.

  “No,” I whispered, shaking my head slowly. “No, Hellion. I won’t survive this, not indefinitely.”

  “You will,” he growled. “By the gods, Maddy, you will survive this.”

  I sat in his arms, numb. Bahlin had delivered his vengeance against me in the most effective manner possible. Now there would be no getting out of this cycle, there would be no end for me other than death because… Oh hell. “Hellion?”

  “Say what you want done, Maddy, and I’ll see it carried out even if it means raining hell down on him myself.”

  “No, no. It’s not that. It’s just, if I don’t age while I’m the Niteclif, and now I can’t get out of being the Niteclif, am I immortal?” The man beside me grew so still I wondered if he’d willed himself away. “Hellion?”

  Moving in exaggerated slow motion, Hellion took my hand up and kissed my knuckles before setting the hand down and laying his cheek on my hair.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” I was strangely calm about this. “If I’m immortal, the only way for me to get out of the Niteclif role is to truly die, right?”

  “Don’t speak that way, mo duine dorcha. We’ll find a way out—”

  “No, we won’t.” Without understanding the calm conviction I felt, I knew with absolute certainty that there would be no working around my family history. My opportunity for any type of graceful, self-powered exodus was terminated, and I was faced with living this life of violence forever or finding an out through death. Closing my eyes, I shook my head. Bahlin had secured the last word.

  Squeezing me tightly, Hellion asked, “Are you all right, Maddy? Please, say something.”

  “I’m surprisingly okay. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t as disorienting as half the shit that’s happened to me so far.” What I didn’t add was that it was irrelevant whether I was immortal or not since I had never believed I’d live to see the end of my term of service as the Niteclif. It had meant little to me until recently.

  “I’ll see you avenged,” Hellion whispered into my hair, his hot breath sending shivers down my still bare spine.

  “Avenged for what? Having my life extended indefinitely? Having the amount of time I can potentially spend with you lengthened ten-fold? Or would it be for—”

  “Fine. Jest if you will, but this isn’t done between him and me, Madeleine. This isn’t nearly done.”

  Hellion trembled with rage and began to move away when I whipped a hand out and grabbed his forearm. “Uh-uh. You’re not walking away from this. You promised to cut that crap out, remember? And it is done, Hellion.” I yanked on him until he spun to face me. “I lost Bahlin once when I only thought he was dead, and I survived it. I don’t think I’d survive your death, imagined or real. And if you two ever truly go up against each other, one of you will die. I’m not so naïve as to misunderstand that. So this ends, here and now.”

  “I’ll tell you now that I don’t take to having what I will or won’t do spelled out for me as if I was daft, Madeleine,” he ground out between clenched teeth and a ticking jaw.

  “Minutes ago you were begging me to tell you what I wanted and you’d do it. This is what I want.”

  Lips thinned to a vicious slash across his face and black irises swallowed the whites all over again, a faint wind blew his hair about his head and shoulders but I didn’t falter. He could be as scary as he wanted to be. I’d stick to this like gum to hot pavement. He could try to peel me off, and I’d even go so far as to wish him luck with it.

  “Bloody hell, woman, why don’t I get you the emasculating sheers? Then you can just take care of it all in one fell swoop?” he bitched.

  I bit my lower lip in an effort to hide the smile that threatened to break free.

  He sighed and slid down to curl up next to me, laying his head in my lap.

  My hand automatically went to his hair and I began running my fingers through the burnished gold. “Fine. Go get them.”

  He sighed. “Figure of speech, love. Keep those things away from me.” And whether a conscious thought or subconscious reaction, he casually dropped a hand across his groin. This time there was no hiding my smile or the laughter that followed.

  In keeping with tradition, it took me a while to truly process what had happened. When the final connection was made in my mind and the implications of immortality registered completely, I flipped out. I had a raging fit, broke a few dishes, cursed Bahlin and generally convinced everyone in the house that eternity was way the hell too long to spend with me. Even though Hellion expressed his concern and humored me for a while, even he eventually lost his temper and told me to get a damned grip and get over myself.

  I needed the verbal slap before I could settle down to privately consider the pros and the cons of immortality. The biggest advantage was that I’d have longer to potentially spend with Hellion, provided I could survive. The biggest disadvantage was that, despite the experience I’d gain, I ran the risk of beginning to disappear, or fade, with every failure. If I faded, a pre-ordained author would write my story and immortalize me as a fictional character that had never been. My life would be voided, my spirit dead. That scared me more than death itself because no one was so good they didn’t experience failure now and again.

  I retreated to the second floor library. Maybe if I read for a while I could reclaim my sanity and force my mind to think in an organized manner again. The same page sat unread and unturned for twenty minutes as I willfully slowed my thought processes down. My mind wandered about aimlessly, sometimes recounting past events and at others trying to ordain the future. Hellion found me as my mind skipped through the injustices of the last few days.

  “It was suddenly quiet enough that I wondered if you’d left the house,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa and settling my feet in his lap.

  The long, firm strokes delivered to my arches made me purr in appreciation, and I set the book aside as my eyes drifted shut. “Living forever won’t be so bad if you keep that up.”

  His dark chuckle was the only answer I received, but he didn’t stop.

  The silence grew heavy between us and I knew something bothered him. I wanted to ask and had slowly worked up the nerve when he broached the topic on his own, his deep baritone seemingly softened by the low lights and rich ambience of the room itself.

  “I’ve been thinking about what happened this morning, Maddy, and I want to ask you how you’d feel about lodging a formal complaint against Bahlin through the appropriate Council channels.”

  I pulled my feet from his lap and sat up, rubbing my forehead.

  “Enough of an answer, I suppose.”

  “No, not really,” I muttered,
impressed he hadn’t walked out when the non-answer I gave him obviously wasn’t what he wanted from me. Sighing, I scooted closer to him and rested my cheek on his unyielding shoulder. “Look, sweetheart,” I began, and he physically softened.

  “Sweetheart?” His voice was full of some emotion I couldn’t identify.

  “Are you laughing at me?” I was stunned. I’d kill the—

  “No. No, I’m not laughing. Smiling? Yes. But definitely not laughing. It’s the first time you’ve used an affectionate nickname for me.” Turning to face me, I found his eyes lit up and a truly joyous smile on his face.

  Over a pet name? Obviously I had been a little uptight with him. “If you’d prefer I didn’t—”

  “No,” he exclaimed again, shaking his head in emphasis. “I’m quite fond of it, actually.”

  He reached for me, the joy evolving into something darker, more sensual, and I shivered as I moved toward him.

  A brisk knock at the door made us both pause, and he sucked in the air to yell.

  I clapped a hand over his mouth and called out, “Just a minute, Mark!” Dropping my hand, I turned to Hellion, incredulous. “Does he have some type of mental alarm that alerts him every time we want to bump uglies?” I demanded.

  Hellion grinned behind my hand, pulling his head back, so I could see his dimples flash as he lowered his lips to mine. “‘Bump uglies?’” he asked, his lips a soft coercion.

  “American slang. It means…oh hell, you know what it means.” I was blushing as Hellion stood to adjust himself in his trousers. Sitting again, he crossed one ankle over his knee and did the best he could to hide the arousal that punched out from his groin.

  “Sweetheart,” I said with emphasis and not a little teasing, “you could lay a king-sized quilt over that battering ram and it’s still not going to hide the whole thing.” I strolled toward the door, amused at the look of pride on Hellion’s face at my left-handed compliment of his junk. He might be a supe, but he was still a man.

  I swung the door open and found Mark pacing. The butler turned and nearly leapt at me, taking my hand and pulling me toward the stairs. “Apparently we’re in a hurry?” I asked, being dragged after him.

  My free hand automatically clamped to my aching side and I couldn’t help but limp slightly on my still-battered leg. Twisting, my stitches strained against skin as we turned a corner, and I pulled on Mark’s hand.

  He didn’t slow down.

  “Mark? Mark,” I yelled, pulling harder, but still the guy hauled me forward.

  Hellion cursed behind me. The slap of his bare feet on the hardwood sounded as he raced after us.

  “I’m sorry, Maddy.” The young man pounded down the stairs two at a time. I nearly fell as I tried to keep up.

  His anxiety was bleeding all over me, and I began to feel the footholds of panic setting in. When we hit the parlor, I realized the reason for his rush. While his panic had been bleeding all over me, our visitor had been bleeding all over the Oriental carpet.

  Shit.

  Chapter Two

  I stumbled to a halt and the warm patch under my hand let me know I’d ripped some stitches loose. But my wound was nothing compared to the bloody mass of man lying on the carpet. He appeared to be breathing. I wasn’t sure he’d count that as an advantage at the moment.

  “Get Stearns.” I hardly heard my voice over the thundering of my heart. I knew Stearns could help. Stearns, the footman and driver, was a middle-aged magus with serious talents in the healing department. He’d been a medic in the Gulf War, and his skills and magical abilities made him an invaluable asset to Hellion’s staff and coven. Considering all the times he’d patched me up and the fact that I was now a permanent member of the household, he needed to be considered for both hazard pay and a serious raise.

  Hellion rushed into the room and slid to a halt, glancing at me before his gaze landed on the man on his parlor floor. A faint, otherworldly light flickered around the stranger like a weak strobe. Walking past me, Hellion knelt and gently turned the man over, taking great care with an arm that was clearly broken and easing him when he groaned in pain. Hellion was an absolute genius when it came to healing as well, though he was strictly magical in talent.

  Watching the man’s—creature’s?—arm flop about useless was nearly my stomach’s undoing, but I held firm, determined to eventually get over this squeamishness I had to blood and broken bones.

  Stearns rounded the corner at a run followed closely by Mark, who carried Stearns’s medical bag. Both men came to unsteady stops, bumping first into me and then into each other. I grunted and grabbed my side, and Stearns reached for me, but I shook my head.

  “Handle him first. I can wait. I’m pretty sure he can’t.”

  Stearns nodded and moved to assist Hellion. The larger man was giving low commands that Mark and Stearns were following without question as I stood there wondering where I’d be the most use. Because while my stomach was pitching and rolling, I couldn’t stand the idea that this man/monster was in pain and there was nothing I could do to help.

  As if he could read my mind, Hellion turned to me and said, “Maddy, fetch a few rags from the pantry and wet them in the powder room. We need to see where the blood is coming from to know how much damage is superficial versus how much is serious.”

  I nodded and moved off at a fast walk. It was the best I could do after pulling the sutures loose, and I had a feeling Hellion would stop letting me help when he figured out I was bleeding. He was a bit overprotective. Hell, who was I kidding? He was domineering, but it was oddly sexy. I shook my head at my own hormonal idiocy and returned the towels to the men as quickly as I could.

  I knew the exact moment Hellion noticed I was reinjured. Before he could order me back to bed, I held my hand up. “I’m not leaving. Focus on him and let’s worry about the rest later.”

  He turned back to our mysterious, mangled guest without uttering a word.

  The stranger’s lips moved and I heard the hiss of air as he tried to speak.

  Hellion leaned over the man. “Say it again.” The man struggled to get the word out, and Hellion looked over his shoulder at me, curiosity warring with worry in his gaze. “He’s asking for you.”

  I moved across the carpet toward the stranger who was now stretched out on his back and at least partially cleaned of blood. There were four primary wounds: one to the head, one to the top of his thigh and two to his abdomen. All would require stitches and probably some sort of intervention from either Stearns or Hellion in order to save his life. An indention in his side bespoke broken ribs, and his now-splinted arm was clearly broken, as were several fingers. He was missing nails on both hands. His lips, both upper and lower, were split, and his eyes would be black and blue come morning. Maybe it was the suffered violence that rolled off him that made me nervous, but I was scared to get too close. Hellion held out his hand and I went to him, kneeling by the man and leaning forward.

  “Niteclif,” he breathed, and he opened his less contused eye. Intelligence and power burned in that shocking blue gaze, and I found I couldn’t look away. “Found you. Thank God,” he whispered. And then he passed out.

  “Do you recognize him?” Hellion asked.

  “I’ve seen roadkill that looks better. I wouldn’t be able to say for sure whether or not I know him until I see him healed. The flashing light thing is…weird.”

  “Weird?” Hellion smiled absently.

  I shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “How did he know you were here?” This from Stearns.

  “We haven’t exactly been inconspicuous,” I murmured, embarrassed. In truth, I’d made some serious enemies and, to be fair, excellent friends over the last two months. But nothing I’d done had been terribly low profile.

  “Too true.” Hellion locked his hands behind his head, pulled until muscles strained and then relaxed. “Okay, let’s get him into the guest room on this floor and we’ll see what we can do for him there. Mark, get a blanket so we can move him with
out jostling the poor fellow too badly.”

  Entirely on impulse, I reached out and gently picked up the hand that wasn’t attached to the broken arm. He squeezed weakly, but it was a definite response. That could only be good news.

  The men were as careful as they could be in transferring our guest from the floor to the blanket to the bedroom, but there were still curses from the conscious and groans from the semi-conscious as he was settled in between the thousand thread-count sheets.

  Hellion grabbed my hand and pulled me out the door, calling over his shoulder for the other men to fetch him when the unnamed man awoke. I felt like I’d been pulled everywhere I went since we’d left the second-floor library, and I was just about to balk when the front door exploded inward in a rain of flying splinters and debris.

  Hellion threw me to the side and stepped in front of me as I skidded across the marble foyer. More stitches ripped free and I left a crimson trail in my wake. Hellion raised his hands at the intruder, prepared to fight.

  “Do you think your little efforts at smoke and mirrors will keep me from my mark, magus?” The man who stepped through the door smiled, effectively dismissing Hellion. “Because you’re wrong if you do.”

  He chuckled, and I blanched at the smell of brimstone and sulfur that breathed across the room. Dressed in entirely common clothes, he was uncommonly attractive. His dark hair and pale skin mimicked that of Darius, the vampire. But unlike Darius, something in this man bespoke viciousness and brutality, maybe more, and definitely a love of both.

  The air around Hellion shimmered and he held his hands out to his sides, parallel to the floor, casting a mirage between us and the stranger who was framed by the day’s fading light.

  “The moment the sun is extinguished, you will not be able to hold me, and you know it.” He hissed the last and Hellion’s power stumbled for the briefest moment, but it was enough. The other man threw back his head and roared in laughter. “So you do remember me, then? Good, good. I’d have been so disturbed if you’d forgotten our last meeting.” The man licked his lips in an entirely sexual manner.