Legacy: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 1

by Denise Tompkins

  The windows on the car were darkly tinted and, when we crawled into the backseat to let Brylanna drive, I couldn’t help the flashback to getting in the car with Tarrek only days ago. I felt like I had neglected him today, though I’d needed the actual sleep, and it left me feeling guilty.

  We settled into the backseat without a word, Bahlin pulling me under his shoulder protectively. I snuggled into his side as we bumped down the country lane toward the highway. Snapshots from my earlier dream and ass kicking kept coming back to me, and I couldn’t help but try to focus on specifics.

  First, I knew the forest was dense and old. The decaying vegetation on the forest floor was seasons worth, and there was little undergrowth except a few shade-loving plants. No solution to the mystery there.

  Second, I knew that the attacker had been cautious about attacking me from the front. I thought about my fight with Gretta. Women tend to attack other women from the front. We’re programmed that way, typically because we throw taunts first. Verbal creatures, we. But instances of assault prove that men will often attack a woman from behind. So that led me to believe my attacker was male.

  Assuming my second assumption was accurate, then he had, thirdly, disguised his voice. Between the attack from behind and the disguised voice, I deduced that I must have seen him before at some point and would, thereby, recognize him. Brylanna’s foretelling that I had seen him before only reaffirmed my suspicions.

  And fourth, and most importantly, I knew Tarrek was the light in the forest because he’d dressed me in almost the same dress he’d brought me in the sithen. He’d reached out to me in my dream, tried to give me answers, and had been stopped by the owner of the voice. He, the voice, had to have some pretty serious mojo to leave me with the creepy crawlies so long after waking.

  The car bumped and shifted from the dirt lane to the paved highway and suddenly our travel was quieter, the purr of the engine more intent now than during the careful traversing of the earlier rutted road leading from the house. I sighed and leaned into Bahlin’s shoulder more. I was sore and tired.

  “Rest, a stór, and I’ll wake you before we get to the hotel,” Bahlin said gently, seemingly reading my mind. He stroked my head with those talented fingers, and I found myself waning to sleep.

  “Not for a while yet.” I looked out the window and watched the scenery go by, content but contradictorily tense. I didn’t want any of this to be happening, but I was so happy, at that very moment, where I was.

  Something caught my eye out the window and I shouted, “Stop the car!”

  Seatbelts tightened, brake pads ground and people grunted as the car came to a radical stop, swaying back on its shocks. I fumbled with the locked backdoor and finally got it open. Jumping out of the car, my exhaustion forgotten, I raced across the empty highway and scrambled over the fence, never taking my eyes off the prize—the stone circle. Stumbling into the center of the circle I fell to my knees, though I felt nothing beyond the bitter taste of desperation. I got up and walked the perimeter, tracing my fingers over the stones, my mind racing in random patterns trying to figure out what I had done that night that made the stones come to life for me. I turned to find that the altar stone was not there. I stared, slack-jawed, at the empty center circle.

  “Maddy?” Bahlin asked quietly. “What is it?”

  “I thought… See, I thought…” I stumbled.

  “Ah, you thought this was the same stone circle you were at previously, right?” His voice came from behind me.

  “Yeah, I thought this was it. But it’s not, is it?”

  “No, Maddy, it’s not. You’ll remember I told you there are many stone circles about Europe. This one is only a partial circle, thereby its magic is disrupted. It couldn’t have compelled your change.” A heavy hand came to rest gently on my shoulder. “Do you wish so badly to unmake your decision, then?” His voice was carefully devoid of emotion.

  “I don’t know what I want. I thought…”

  “Come back to the car. We’ve got to make it to London as early as possible so Brylanna can make her drive home.”

  He slid his hand from my shoulder to hand and directed me back to the car. He held my door open for me and I slid in, then he went to his side and took his seat. Brylanna glared at me in the rearview mirror, and I looked away. She stepped on the gas hard enough for the engine to roar and force me back in my seat before my seatbelt was fully buckled. Once I was settled, I began to get pissed, so I glared back at her. What the hell was her problem anyway? It wasn’t her life on the line here. Bahlin was suspiciously quiet. I looked at him with my peripheral vision and found him staring at me.

  “What?” I asked, self-conscious of him for the first time since we’d had sex.

  “Nothing,” he said softly. “I suppose it’s nothing.” He turned to look at the window, laying his head back against the seat, eyes unfocused.

  “Bay?” Something was wrong.

  He rolled his head toward me, and his eyes flashed icy blue. We looked at each other quietly, the tension mounting to the point it had texture on the air. Still he said nothing. When he spoke it was in a voice tinged with sorrow, like a sky with the first hint of snow: penitent, mournful, cold. “Do you regret us so soon, Maddy?”

  I stared at him. “Regret you as in you, in particular, or this situation?”

  “That’s what I was afraid of,” he said. “You’re going to second-guess yourself back into celibacy.” He closed his eyes and turned away. “You’re being foolish.”

  “Bay…” I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t regret my time with him, but I wasn’t keen on the whole shot and poisoned and now hunted thing.

  “No need to express your regrets out loud,” he whispered. “I’ll live.”

  And then I knew he was speaking specifically of our time together. Had I been able to wish away this existence while at the stones, I may have done it without thinking of the consequences. Specifically, I wouldn’t have thought of the loss of Bahlin. The thoughts roiled in my mind like hard-boiling water.

  “Bahlin, look—”

  At his name, he opened his eyes, dark blue once again, and said, “No, Maddy. No excuses. It is what it is. You’d go back to your old life if you could. That much is evident.”

  “Bahlin, listen to me, please. Please. I miss aspects of my old life, particularly not being shot, poisoned or hunted.” I reached for him then withdrew my hand, unsure whether my touch would be welcome or not. “The idea that I could go back to boring appeals to me greatly. But what we had this afternoon—well, that gives me something else to think about. I don’t want to go back to boring in that department.”

  A very unlady-like snort sounded from the front seat, and the radio volume went up so that Pink’s voice carried over the quiet conversation.

  “Later,” he said with finality and turned to the window again.

  It was a long ride back to London.

  We arrived sometime around seven o’clock that evening. Surprisingly, Bahlin had directed us back to the hotel again. Following my stunted conversation with Bahlin after the stone circle, neither he nor Brylanna had said a word to me as we rode through the settling twilight. It had been a silence filled with tension and angry rock music, leaving my nerves on edge and a song stuck in my head. I involuntarily hummed “Don’t Let Me Get Me” thinking I really was a hazard to myself, as the lyrics suggested. I snorted at the irony, and Bahlin looked at me. I shrugged, and we walked through the lobby. He gestured me toward the elevators, but he headed to the reception desk to speak with one of his managers on duty. Everything looked the same, but my senses were on red alert. Something was off. Bahlin came back toward me looking grim.

  “Hellion has been here already. It’s not safe to stay here without endangering innocent people. I’ve sent a bellhop to your room for your bags. Stay here.” He walked behind the desk and into the manager’s office and shut the door with a hard shove only a breath shy of a slam.

  I wandered over to the blood-red sofas
and took a seat. Despite their harsh appearance, the sofas were incredibly comfortable. I had just curled up and settled my head against the back when a voice said, “You look relaxed.”

  I jolted upright and looked at the woman now sitting across from me. I gasped, unsure what she was but knowing she was less human than I. She smiled, and I noticed her teeth were a little sharper than normal. But that was nothing compared to her hair. It was shades of deep, dark blue with light green highlights. It sounds odd, but it was gorgeous on her. Her eyes were the color of green glass marbles, clear and bright, and her skin was pale with almost a green tint. She was wearing a gossamer dress, and I could vaguely make out her breasts through the front of the material. I was instantly embarrassed. What was it with the see-through clothes floating around Western Europe?

  “I am Sarenia,” the woman said, her voice rich and melodious. “I am here to see Bahlin, though I’m honored to meet the new Niteclif as well.”

  “So you believe in me?” I asked. “Just like that?”

  “Oh, I do at that, precious girl,” she said. “I feel your heritage in my heart, for I knew your great-grandfather well. You’ve the look of him, you know. I hope you’ll serve us as well as he did.”

  There was that no pressure thing again. Just fabulous. I continued to stare at her and unbidden the word mermaid breathed voiceless through my mind. I wondered if recognizing supernatural creatures was one of my skills that Bahlin had referenced. I thought I’d test the envelope since I was as alone with this woman as one could be in a crowded hotel lobby.

  “What are you?” I asked more bluntly than I intended. I winced, hoping I hadn’t offended her.

  She chuckled and her voice sounded of sea gulls calling out over the waves, and I knew I was right. I smiled, and she smiled back.

  “You may refer to me as a mermaid, as the sailors’ legends do. But to be accurate, I am an Atlantean and a member of the High Council, representing the smaller groups who lack significant numbers.”

  I stared at her, confused.

  Interpreting my look, her smile gentled as much as it could on her severe face and she said, “Atlanteans come from Atlantis, child.”

  My mouth formed a silent O, and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. “Okay. If you’re a member of the High Council, where were you yesterday?”

  “I had an emergency that held me away. I understand you were fully affirmed, though I will offer you the oath myself. But right now,—” she inclined her head toward the front desk and Bahlin’s approach, “—it will have to wait.”

  “Sarenia,” came his voice over my shoulder. “It’s good to see you here. I’ve received your message. What may I do for you?” asked Bahlin.

  “We’ve found a body,” she said, sorrow lacing her voice. “She was a limnade,

  and—”

  “Pardon me,” I said quietly, “but what’s a lemonade?”

  “No, Maddy. Limnade. It’s a water sprite that lives in a lake. Water sprites have the gift of foresight, and sometimes the ability to make prophecies. It was a sprite that first told of your coming.” She looked at Bahlin, and he looked irritated. “You have not told her of this?”

  He hunched his shoulders defensively and said, “She knew she was prophesied.”

  “Hellion took the prophecy offered by the same sprite that was just killed and delivered it to the Council in her stead. She came later and repeated it to ensure we knew when you would arrive.”

  “So you all knew I was coming?” A dreadful thought was developing.

  “We did, Niteclif. We knew the day and time, even the event, that would trigger your heritage Change.”

  “And only the Council knew?” The feeling was getting worse.

  “We agreed we would not share the information lest an unnaturally large gathering of people showed up in the middle of the night at the circle to watch your indoctrination event.” She cocked her head to the side, looking at me intently, her eyes darkening the slightest bit. “Did you see anyone at the circle?”

  She was too observant by half. Maybe she should take over the Niteclif role. I was ready to give it to her. And now I was in a position to have to disclose that I’d been watched that night. I didn’t want to do this.

  “Maddy?” Bahlin asked, steel lacing his voice, his back ramrod straight.

  “You knew?” I turned toward Bahlin. “So you knew the stone circle that I’d come to, even before I was affirmed?”

  “I did. But Tarrek affirmed you so fast that there was little time to do aught but move forward with your Change. Once he said the words, Maddy, it was irrevocable.”

  I stared at him, the tenuous trust we’d built shattering into a million tiny pieces. I couldn’t trust what he said to me now that I had a small inkling that this could have been stopped, that he could have stopped this. Probably, anyway. Or maybe. Hell, I had no idea, but I felt like he’d lied to me regarding a major life event so that I would choose the path he thought was best, and then I went and had sex with him. As illogical as it was, and heritage be damned as this had nothing to do with logic, I felt betrayed. I glared at him and he glared back, his eyes flashing to that eerie white, ice blue. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, recognizing the threat. I looked away first, uncomfortable with the intimacy of his gaze, no matter how harsh it was.

  “There was a man,” I began, and I told them everything.

  Letting out a low string of curses, Bahlin got up and walked away, getting in the first available elevator and going up. I turned and followed his retreat, staring after him, confused at his reaction. I was the injured party, not him. If anyone was going to be storming off, it should have been me. I continued to stare at the elevator, watching the light indicate stops and starts at each floor. I thought I knew who the man was now, though with all of the other supes who had foretold of the event, it was impossible to be positive. Not without confronting him, which I lacked the courage to do. Yet. I had a dragon’s ass to kick first. Great way to hone my fighting skills, I guess.

  “Why is he so upset?” I asked, though I didn’t direct the question to Sarenia or anyone else. It was merely a verbalization of thought. “I’m the one who’s been wronged here.”

  “Likely he’s upset because he wants you to trust him,” Sarenia answered. “And I suggest you strongly think about your second statement.”

  I looked over my shoulder at her. “What? Why?”

  “As to the first, he’s worked with the Council for the last three hundred years, offering guidance to Niteclifs ever since his election as representative of the shape-shifting and were-factions.

  “And regarding the second, to your statement you’ve been wronged? How, child? An honorable man falls in love with you, and you seem to think you got the short end of the stick? It doesn’t follow any form of logic I’m familiar with.”

  I didn’t correct her calling me a child. Hell, she had seen and done things that were so old the history books had omitted them as no longer relevant. Freaking Atlantis. I was little more than embryonic when compared to her. What was disturbing was that such ancient creatures would entrust justice to me, but there it was.

  And as for logic? I covered that already.

  “How has he offered guidance?” I asked, working hard to school the emotion from my voice. Jealousy had no place in my queries.

  Sarenia, though, wasn’t fooled. “He has counseled them throughout their ten year term, in both their activities and their investigations. He is a wise man, Maddy, and you will do well working with him.”

  Jumping from topic to topic I replied, “And there’s no way to definitively qualify whether or not he loves me in such a short time. I wouldn’t even trust probability statistics to that problem.”

  Sarenia leaned back on the sofa, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. Great. I was giving an ancient a stress headache.

  “Love is not a probability statistic, girl, and logic has little to do with it, if anything. It is what it is, no more, no less. And the only
who can legitimately qualify those feelings would be the owner thereof.” I began to open my mouth to comment that she’d called love both logical and illogical and she said in a reverberating voice that drew stares, “No arguments, Madeleine Dylis Niteclif. None.”

  I hunched my shoulders and thought about what she’d said. She was right, and I hate being wrong—hate it enough that I fought against the urge to apologize. “Trust has to come into play. Unfortunately, that’s something Bahlin and I need to work on in every aspect of our professional relationship.”

  “And personally?”

  “Let’s not go there yet, okay? I may have just sent us down in a blaze of glory, setting a new worldwide record for the decimation of a relationship in less than twelve hours. I’ll get back to you.” I paused, thinking about Sarenia’s role, the mythology of the Atlantean people and their alleged braniac status, and I wondered if she knew about Bahlin’s service to the Niteclif family. She had answered so many of my other questions with insight, but she hadn’t answered what I wanted to know. Did she know who he was to history’s records? I couldn’t work off an assumption that she was aware of Bahlin’s activities.

  “Does the whole Council know that he’s provided, um, guidance to the Niteclifs?”

  “No, I’m sure they don’t. Most are not as attuned to each other as I am. But the years will do that…” she trailed off, introspective, and I wondered how old she was. When had Atlantis allegedly disappeared? Something like 9600 BC.

  Before I could stop myself I asked, “How long have you known Bahlin?”

  Sarenia stared at me, her eyes darkening to the color of the deep sea. She seemed to look right through me, and it flat gave me the creeps. Right before I told her to forget it, she said, “If you’d like to know how old he is, you should ask him child.”