My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(39)

She unconsciously reached up to grasp the amulet that lay against her skin.

"I... this makes no sense. Why would anyone desire my necklace? It possesses no value."

She thought that Lucien stiffened at her side, but her attention remained upon the frowning Runner.

"Are you certain?" Mr. Ryan demanded.

"No more so than any other bit of gold."

"Has anyone approached you and admired the necklace, or wished to borrow it?"

She paused, briefly considering the men who had broken into her home. They had said something of the necklace, had they not? And there had been those odd dreams of the old gypsy woman warning her to protect the amulet.

Then she gave a small shake of her head. The Runner would think her mad if she began babbling of odd intruders and gypsy dreams. She wasn't certain that she entirely believed the strange happenings herself.

"No," she at last muttered.

Mr. Ryan heaved a weary sigh. "A pity. I had hoped you might have some knowledge of who might be stalking these young women."

She battled the threatening tears. "I wish that I did. I am sorry."

Stepping even closer, Lucien placed his arm protectively around her shoulder. There was a sudden air of danger that crackled about him as he narrowly regarded their guest.

"Miss Kingly had nothing to do with the murders."

Much to his credit, the Runner managed to meet that fierce golden gaze without flinching. A remarkable task, indeed.

"I do not suspect that Miss Kingly is involved, but I cannot ignore the fact that two of the victims carried notes with her name upon them."

Lucien tensed, but before he could speak, Jocelyn turned to offer him a sad shake of her head.

"He is right, Lucien. There must be some reason that this monster has left my name on those wretched maidens." She gave a deep shudder, her stomach once again threatening to revolt. "We must discover why."

"Not tonight," he retorted in icy tones.

Not even the undoubted courage of Mr. Ryan was equal to the dark, looming threat of Lucien Valin.

"No, of course not." He offered her a strained smile. "You will come to me if you discover any information?"

"Certainly."

"Then I will trouble you no further." He gave a bow. "Good evening."

Jocelyn barely noticed as the large man turned and quietly left the room. Her heart felt heavy and her mind clouded with a pained terror.

What was happening?

If someone wished to harm her, why would they kill pathetic women upon the street? And why would they possess sueh an odd fascination with her amulet?

Why?

"Have a seat, Jocelyn." With tender care Lucien guided her to a nearby chair. Waiting until she had numbly settled upon the threadbare cushion, he briefly disappeared, only to return with a small glass of brandy that he pressed into her hand. "Drink."

She did as she was commanded, giving a choked cough as the fiery spirit slid down her throat. Lifting her head, she met his concerned gaze with a frown.

"Two more girls dead," she said in quavering tones.

He grimaced, kneeling beside the chair to grasp her chilled fingers in a warm grip.

"I am sorry, Jocelyn."

"This is unbearable." She shivered in fear. "Who would do such a thing? And why?"

"As you said ... a monster," he said quietly.

"A monster who is searching for me," she retorted, no longer able to deny the truth.

There was a faint pause before she heard him heave a sigh. "I fear so."

Something in his dark tone made her search his oddly pale features. He sounded so certain.

As if... as if he knew.

"Lucien ... who is this man?"

The bronze features tightened as he studied her wary expression. "He is a very evil man. A dangerous man."

A thick lump threatened to choke her. She did not want to believe that Lucien had anything to do with the darkness that clouded about her. He was her strong shoulder that she desperately desired to lean upon. He was a steady comfort in her growingly unstable world.

But her hapless wishing could not alter the pained regret that was glittering in his golden eyes.

"What does he want from me?" she forced herself to demand.

"The Medallion."

Her fingers lifted to clutch the golden amulet. "My necklace?"

"Yes."

"But... why? It surely cannot be of value."

His eyes briefly closed before he lifted his lashes to regard her with a tortured expression.

"It is valuable, my dove. More valuable than you could ever imagine."

She struggled to accept his ragged words. It seemed impossible. What gypsy, no matter how old or mad, would offer a valuable amulet to a complete stranger? Such a woman living in obvious poverty would surely sell the necklace or at least barter for some gain.

And yet, she could not deny that the necklace had become a source of fascination for some villain. A villain willing to kill for it.

She found it suddenly difficult to breathe. "What is it?"

His hand reached up to softly touch the fingers that held the amulet in a deadly grip.

"It is an ancient artifact of the Immortals."

"Immortals?"

His lips twisted in a humorless smile. "Vampires."