Night's Promise (9 page)

“Unless… What does she mean to you? I’ve seen the way she looks at you, she’s terrified of you. Everyone in here is.”

“Everyone but you, it seems.”

“So it seems,” the sorcerer answered with a smile.

Duncan knew the man was right. She was terrified of him. Everyone who saw him was. And he frequently did get to do whatever he wanted because of that. He liked it that way. He enjoyed having none question him. But for some reason he wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear from him, he wanted to help her, to be a hero once in his life, even if only just to one person. But if anyone ever discovered he wanted to help her, neither the woman nor her children would stand a chance. He might as well kill them himself.

Shrugging, Duncan answered his question. “She’s nice to me. She doesn’t let her fear stop her from being polite, unlike most people.”

“And that’s why I have power over you. A man in your position can’t afford to like anyone. Not if you plan on keeping your edge. Even now you’re mad at me, yet you don’t attack. Oh I can feel your desire to rip my throat out, yet you’re talking to me.

“If you really want to kill me you have to take away my power first.”

“I won’t make the same mistake twice, sorcerer,” Duncan growled, allowing his temper to reign.

“Good, good.” The man nodded, taking a sip of his drink as though Duncan hadn’t just told him he was going to kill him. “By the way, the name is Thomas.” He took another sip of his drink then looked over at Duncan with a smirk. “Just make sure you strip all of my power, boy.”

Duncan growled. “I won’t forget. There’s a powerful sorceress that owes me a favor or two. I’m sure she’ll do the necessary spells for me.”

Thomas laughed. “You’re still not getting it. Let’s try this one more time, a bit slower.” Duncan bared his teeth in anger, but it didn’t faze the sorcerer. “It does not matter if you strip my magicks or even if you kill me, I will still have power over you. So long as I have the power to annoy you, I will have power over you. At night, you’ll hear my voice taunting you whenever someone makes you angry.”

He turned to face Duncan. “You’ll see my face when you kill them. You’ll kill me more than once, you’ll kill me every time your emotions run hot, every time someone annoys you. But I will always come back.”

Staring at the man, Duncan thought about his words. When the bartender returned during a lull in their conversation, Duncan ordered the man a drink.

With a laugh, Thomas lifted his glass in salute. “That is certainly a good, if surprising, start.”

Shaking his head, Duncan returned to the present. Thomas had been a good man. Unfortunately, he never concerned himself with who he pissed off.

A few months later Duncan had been hired to kill Thomas. Though, to be honest he’d wondered more than once if his death was ordered to test Duncan’s fortitude. He suspected rumors had gotten out about the man he spoke with and, whether it was admitted or not, his friendship was the real reason behind the bounty on the man’s head.

To his credit, Thomas never flinched when Duncan showed up to end his life. He didn’t even seem surprised.

The man’s final words still echoed inside his head.

“Do I still anger you, annoy you?”

“No,” Duncan replied truthfully, stepping closer.

“Then you’ve succeeded in removing my power over you.” Thomas lifted his hands to defend himself with a spell. “I consider you a friend, but that does not mean I will roll over and allow you to kill me.”

“I don’t have any friends,” Duncan responded coldly, a small piece of his soul was screaming, but he ignored it. “But you have my respect. Because of that, I promise it will be painless.” Speeding up, he quickly moved behind the other man. Before Thomas could say another word Duncan grasped the man’s head in his hands and quickly twisted it, snapping his neck.

Releasing him, he watched his friend fall to the floor.

“I can’t afford to have any friends. But that doesn’t mean I have to make you suffer either.” Still looking at the body crumpled on the floor, he added, “And if Tony doesn’t like it, he can tell me so himself.”

Looking into the shadows, he stared at the almost invisible spy, sent by the boss to ensure he killed Thomas.

“While you’re at it, tell him he’s damn lucky I don’t rip his eyes out for sending anyone to spy on me.” Growling he spit out, “Leave, before I decide I’m not feeling quite so generous.”

The boy scurried out of sight without hesitation.

Walking over to the sorcerer’s cabinets he rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. Grabbing a bottle of wine, he opened it, and sniffed, quickly flinching away from the vile smell. Unlike humans, he
knew
exactly what would happen if he drank as little as one sip of the brew. Just how sick it would make him. But at the moment he didn’t care.

With just a single sip of the vile liquid, he was ensuring that he would become deathly sick. It may not kill him, but he knew he’d wish for death. Unlike humans, his kind could feel the poison and rejected it quickly in an attempt at preservation. But right now he’ didn’t care about the pain, he’d risk it for even just a few minutes of the forgetfulness that humans found in the alcohol.

Placing the bottle against his lips and tilting it, he drank deeply, shuddering with the taste.

Striding out of the man’s house, he went to the house of a nearby sorceress that he kept as an occasional lover.

“What are you drinking, lover? Do you know—”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he told her in a tone he knew would stop the questions.

“If you wanted comfort you could have just come straight to Peg. I’ll take good care of you, I always do.”

Removing his pants without his assistance, Peg teased his body as he finished off the bottle of vile liquid. He wondered if it would bring the blissful numbness that it gave humans. And how long he would have to wait before it took effect.

When he was undressed, she pushed him onto the bed, handcuffing him to the frame. Removing a fat candle from a drawer beside the bed, she lit it.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asked before biting his stomach.

“No.”

Wisely she allowed the subject to drop. Nothing she did, however, was able to distract him. He didn’t even enjoy it the way he usually did when she drizzled melted wax on his chest and stomach.

Not letting her know he wasn’t into their play, he mechanically drew moans from her as he thrust into her body. He didn’t find release, but that was no reason to neglect her.

When she collapsed on top of him, completely sated, he looked up at the ceiling.

“That was amazing.” She sighed. “I love it when you come to see me.”

“Peg, I want you to do something for me.”

“Name it, lover. Should I pull out the whips?” she purred.

“I want you to enchant some ink for me. I want a tattoo and I don’t want it to ever disappear.”

She sat up, still straddling him. “Do you know how much magicks that will require?” she exclaimed.

“A better question would be do I care. No, I don’t.”

“And if I refuse to do it?” she replied angrily.

“Then when I walk out that door we’re done. And I’ll make certain everyone knows we’re finished.” He didn’t even raise his voice, but she blanched like he’d just slapped her.

She knew the only reason she hadn’t been hurt was people knew she and Duncan were lovers. None made the mistake of thinking he loved her. But the last time an angry vampire had threatened her, she’d spread around that she was his favorite lover. Everyone knew he wouldn’t be hurt by her loss, but she’d made sure they would think he’d be pissed.

“It’ll take me about a week to prepare the proper spells…”

“Fine, now get these damn handcuffs off of me before I break your bed.”

The second the restraints were off, he was leaning over her trash can, throwing up.

His hand covered the tattoo etched into his skin, hidden for now beneath his shirt. His relationship with Peg had ended soon after the design was completed. She’d been horrified when she saw the claw marks ripping through his skin, but he didn’t care.

The picture was not for her. It was his final lesson from Thomas. One he’d allowed himself to forget, for a while. In his line of work he couldn’t have friends. They were a weakness he couldn’t afford. They made him vulnerable, open for attack. They were made targets—if only to find out if he’d become soft. A way to get revenge on him, the only way they could ever truly hurt him.

Every time he saw the bloody claw marks he’d been reminded of the pain being close to others caused.

Melissa didn’t seem to mind the design of his tattoo much.

The thought of her brought a smile to his face. But it faded when he thought about what she’d been through. No one should have to suffer as much as she had, and he had a strong feeling she hadn’t even told him the entire story. He would never blame her for not baring her entire soul. To do so left a person completely vulnerable. It opened them up to a pain that made torture look pleasant, and could easily rob someone of their soul.

Remembering his own past made him protective of her. Being forced to kill his friend and being abused by those who swore to protect you weren’t truly the same, but they did infect a person with similar feelings.

No one should have to feel as though they had to walk the earth suffering in silence and feeling that they couldn’t afford to allow anyone close to them without risking that person’s life and happiness.

For years Duncan had refused to get close to anyone, refused to go through the pain that killing Thomas had caused, again. Though no one ever knew how badly that particular job had hurt him, the truth was, he’d never been the same afterwards. Not until Bram entered his life.

For some reason the stubborn vampire decided Duncan shouldn’t have to be a loner, and befriended him. Bram had ignored his rudeness, his threats, until Duncan finally allowed himself to consider him a friend. Chuckling, Duncan remembered it had taken Bram over ten years but he’d never given up. He never pried into his past more than Duncan was willing to discuss, and he was the only person who was still living to know most of it.

It was thanks to Bram that the symbolism of Duncan’s tattoo had evolved into a something different, something less bleak. Instead of forever remaining a reminder that he couldn’t be close to anyone, it became a reminder of his past.

He had never regretted getting the tattoo, and just as quickly discovered he could never regret who he was. To dwell on the past, on the cold-hearted bastard he’d been was the road to madness. Plagued by guilt he would also be plagued with images of his victims, though none of them could ever be termed innocent. Too many faces to count, to remember, his guilt would quickly push him into insanity.

No, he could never be the kind of person who regretted taking another’s life, could never regret what he’d done. He was the man he was today because of the man he was so long ago. Even then, Duncan had lived by his own code, refusing to break it. Any who tried to challenge his code were destroyed. He may not have been the best person, the nicest or most gentle man that lived, but he was an honorable man—as much as any assassin could be honorable. His only rule, the only hits he absolutely refused, involved children. In his long life, he’d never claimed the life of an innocent child. He did, however, kill more than a few of his fellow hit men until the gangsters learned the death of children was not something he would permit. If he even knew about it, the job was not completed. The criminals eventually learned to use different methods of torture to “persuade” a person to become compliant.

Looking at the monitors, watching Bram stand on the floor with his arms crossed, he wished his friend would find the happiness he truly deserved. He was the first man Duncan had ever truly called friend, and the only man he would ever stay truly loyal to. Thomas was the closest he’d had to a friend while he was a killer, but Bram was the one who helped him to walk away from his former life before the bosses could all combine their efforts in their desire to get rid of him.

They would have banded together—for a short while—to kill him. They were terrified that some night he would be at their door; a night on which he had not been summoned.

Bram was the man who showed him there could be more to life, and finally given him hope.

Watching his friend in the monitors, he hoped that the pretty brunette he’d seen talking to Bram would return. He’d only been able to get a glimpse of her the night Melissa got into a fight, but it had been enough to know that his friend was interested in her. If it could be more, no one would know unless she came back.

When Bram had told everyone on the staff to let her in the club and find him immediately, Duncan had decided to investigate. Going to the security cameras, he watched their encounter then managed to get a picture of her printed from the footage. Duncan gave the printout to Bram, who then made sure all the bouncers were shown exactly who to look for.