My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(44)

With caution he pushed the door to his rooms open and stepped within. Although the narrow chamber was cloaked in darkness, his sight was easily able to penetrate the shadows. His brows tugged together as he realized that there was nothing to be seen.

"Amadeus," he growled in low tones, moving farther into the room. "I know that you are here. Show yourself."

A faint shimmer of mist suddenly appeared in a distant corner, and Lucien carefully hid the dagger behind his back. He did not trust the traitor. If Amadeus had become desperate, Lucien did not doubt for a moment Amadeus would do whatever necessary to rid himself of Lucien's unwelcome presence.

"Show your black soul," he commanded roughly, watching the mist advance.

There was no response, and an odd premonition sent a trickle of ice down his spine.

Amadeus possessed the power of mist-walking, but there was something wrong. This mist was thickening as it approached, and darkening to charcoal color.

Lucien slowly backed away, remaining before the door to ensure whatever was within the mist was not allowed to leave the chamber. He could not let this threat reach Jocelyn. No matter what he had to do.

Coming to a halt, Lucien held the dagger before him. The mist began to spread, becoming a wall of thick fog. He sought to peer through the heavy shroud, but it was impossible. That sense of impending doom deepened as the mist neared, and Lucien fought the urge to rush back through the door.

Whatever this was, he must somehow halt it.

Jocelyn must be kept safe.

That was all that mattered.

Like a thick, icy blanket, the fog slipped about him, and Lucien discovered himself firmly trapped. The dagger fell from his hand as the chill cut straight to his heart and a moan of pain was wrenched from his throat.

Bloody hell.

It was a mist wraith. A spell that had once been in the command of the vampires but had been banished from the world centuries before. It was far too dangerous to all vampires.

At the moment it merely held him in its tentacles. Once it had gained command of him, however, it would feed upon his spirit until he was nothing more than an empty shell.

Lucien closed his eyes and battled to fight the panic that threatened to overwhelm him. To struggle would only hasten his demise. The creature would feast upon his heightened emotions.

Only by remaining calm could he hope to discover a means of escape.

Calm... Great Nefri.

Eleven

Jocelyn paced the cramped quarters of her bedchamber with uneven steps. Perhaps absurdly, she had hoped that being away from the disturbing presence of Lucien would ease her troubled heart.

Instead, it had only darkened her already black mood.

Vampires? Magical Medallions? Old gypsies who weren't gypsies at all?

It was enough to drive any poor maiden mad.

But while her mind reeled with the effort to accept that vampires were not simply creatures of the imagination but real and living beneath her roof, in her mind it was Lucien's betrayal that lingered.

Dear heavens, she had shared dinner with him, laughed with him, played games with him . . .

shared passion with him.

She had opened her past and revealed all the betrayal she had endured. She had opened her heart.

And she had given her trust.

And that was what hurt the most.

She closed her eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. What was the matter with her?

A man was in her home, claiming to be a mythological vampire. There was a deranged killer out on the streets, attempting to force her to hand over a Medallion that supposedly held the fate of the vampires. A Medallion that was altering her in a manner she could not even comprehend.

And all she could think of was her disappointment that Lucien was not the gentleman she had thought him to be.

Her near-hysterical laugh echoed through the room, and she pressed her hands to her face.

Perhaps she was going mad. It would certainly be the preferable explanation for the horrid day.

Preferable certainly to the thought that the man she loved was a vampire.

Reaching the narrow window, she pressed her cheek to the cool pane and closed her eyes.

She should be thinking of what she intended to do. All too soon it would be morning, and she would be forced to face Lucien once again. She needed to consider whether she intended to demand that he leave her home or to accept his claim that he must be near to protect her.

At the moment neither option seemed bearable.

Having him near and yet knowing deep within that everything about him had been a lie was bound to be painful. Then again, if there were a traitorous vampire stalking her, did she truly desire to face him on her own?

She heaved a sigh, wishing only to lie upon the narrow bed and put all of her troubles behind her. Come the morning, she might even manage to convince herself that this was all no more than a ghastly nightmare.

"Miss Kingly."

The muffled sound of her name being called had Jocelyn abruptly opening her eyes. Dazed by the unexpected intrusion into her thoughts, she scanned the empty garden. There was nothing to be seen for a moment, and then, unbelievably, the slender shape of a young lad stepped from behind a bush.

"Thomas," she breathed as she hurriedly fumbled with the latch and threw up the sash.

"What is it?"

The urchin stepped forward into a shaft of moonlight to reveal a heavy bandage around his hand. "There was trouble at the warehouse. I need your help."