My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(46)

He was the only one she desired at her side.

She had taken only a step, however, when there was a sudden rush of wind behind her. The sharp breeze nearly knocked her to her knees, and she hurriedly turned to discover Thomas surrounded in mist.

Unthinkingly she reached out, attempting to reach the boy before he was entirely hidden by the strange fog. But even as she did so, the mist was thinning and Thomas was gone. In his stead stood Vicar Fallow with an unpleasant smile twisting his lips.

Her heart halted as she gazed at the familiar countenance in disbelief.

It was not possible. It had been Thomas who had been standing before her. She would know his thin face and oversize ears anywhere. Indeed, she would have sworn on her grandmother's Bible that it had been her young friend. People did not shift from one form to another.

People did not, but vampires who possessed the powers of blood lust might very well, a dark voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Suddenly she understood her instinctive revulsion toward the man who had pretended such a kindly interest in her. And the reason that he had so determinedly appeared whenever she happened to leave her home.

Her heart resumed beating at a frantic pace. So frantic it nearly smothered her. Lucien had done his best to convince her of the truth of his words. And the danger that surrounded her. She simply had not wanted to listen.

Watching the sudden panic that fluttered over her pale features, Vicar Fallow allowed a cruel chuckle to fill the air.

"I fear that Lucien is otherwise occupied at the moment, Miss Kingly."

"Vicar Fallow," she breathed, still reeling with disbelief.

He offered a mocking bow. "At your service."

"You ... you are the traitor."

"Traitor?" His features seemed to tighten at her insult. "Such an ugly word, my dear. I am a simple scholar."

Her hands pressed together. A thick, icy danger cloaked the air, making it difficult to think.

She knew she should flee, but stark terror held her captive.

"You are attempting to steal my amulet," she blurted out, hoping to distract him long enough that Lucien might notice their presence in the garden and come to rescue her.

A rather feeble plan, but the only one she possessed.

He shrugged with indifference at her accusation. "A necessary inconvenience, I fear. My studies must continue, and for that I need the power of the Medallion."

"Studies?" She gave a blink of surprise. He had claimed to be a scholar, but it made no sense. He was a ruthless killer, was he not? "What studies?"

"The search for the truth."

"How can the Medallion offer you truth?"

His smile was edged with cruelty as he took a deliberate step toward her. "I do not believe you would care to know the precise details of my experiments. You have a peculiar fondness for even the lowest vermin that haunt the streets of London."

She shuddered at his evil words, but a welcome flare of anger rushed through her, awakening the courage that had briefly deserted her.

She would not cower before this monster. Not after all the wickedness he had done.

"It was you," she stated in flat tones.

He arched an arrogant brow. "Me?"

"You are the one who killed Molly and those other women."

"Ah, but I cannot take full credit, my dear," he drawled in a taunting fashion. "There would have been no need for such senseless slaughter if you had not proven so lacking in trust. I had hoped for a far more peaceful means of acquiring the Medallion."

She gave a fierce shake of her head. She had never desired anything but happiness for those women. It had been this horrid fiend who had harmed them.

"No, I do not believe you. You are a monster."

The eyes abruptly glittered with a spark of anger. Clearly he did not like having the truth spoken so bluntly.

"There is no need for insults," he spat out in warning. "Indeed, I would suggest you take great care in how you address me. Your position at the moment is precarious at best."

Jocelyn had no need of the warning. Every instinct within her screamed with alarm. Never had she faced such menace. Such tangible evil.

Still, she forced herself to meet that malignant gaze without flinching.

"You cannot force me to give you the Medallion."

His thin lips twisted with annoyance at her daring claim. "No. Someday Nefri will pay for that bit of impertinence. But there are other means of acquiring what I desire."

Jocelyn swallowed the lump in her throat. She did not like the sound of that. Not the tiniest bit.

"Other means?"

"I have devoted my life to the finer arts of torture, my dear." His eyes narrowed as her face paled at the unspoken threat. "As much as I might admire your spirit, there is little hope you will be capable of denying what I wish. At least not for long. You are, after all, a mere mortal."

She could not halt her instinctive step backward. Torture? Dear heavens. Did she possess enough courage? Could she face pain and maintain her honor?

With a wrenching effort she banished the heavy sense of doom that threatened to shroud her.

She could not allow herself to give in to despair.

"I may be a mortal, but Lucien is not. He will never allow you to harm me," she forced herself to retort boldly.

Without warning the man gave a dark laugh. The harsh sound sent a distinct chill down her spine.