Legacy: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 1 (3 page)

“The choice may not be yours,” Bahlin responded, fisting his hands at his sides.

“Stop,” I cried, and I shot up out of sleep like a drowning woman coming up for air.

Disoriented, I looked around the bedroom and it took me a moment to remember where I was. I was drenched in sweat and the bed was destroyed. The duvet was on the floor, the silk sheets were pulled off the mattress, and the pillows looked as if I’d thrown them around the room in a fit of rage. Strange. I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d been dreaming, but it didn’t seem like it had been this disturbing. It definitely wasn’t anything like the nightmares I’d been having prior to leaving home. Even the memories of those dark dreams made my stomach cramp with remembered fear.

Unable to sit still, I got up and began collecting pillows. I picked up the duvet and set the bed to rights. It took longer than I expected because the bed was so tall, but I got it done and crawled back in between the sheets. Seemingly impossible, yet true, I felt even more exhausted than when I’d first laid down. What had I been dreaming? The memory became more elusive the harder I chased it. It felt like it had been important. I slid back into sleep and for the first time in months it was, thankfully, dreamless.

Chapter Two

I awoke late that morning with a headache more indicative of the personal consumption of a bottle of Grey Goose instead of a simple late night bath and blurry dreams. I’m talking full-blown, head-pounding, wish-I-could-die-and-get-it-over-with pain. I stumbled into the bathroom, less impressed with its opulence now that my demise seemed imminent. I managed to dig out three ibuprofen from my travel case and dry swallow them. I was afraid even a sip of water would make me lose the meager remaining contents of my stomach. I longed for a cigarette, or even some second-hand smoke.

I made my way back into the bedroom and found myself grateful for the heavy gray curtains that were keeping the daylight at bay. I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for the pills to take effect. When I became certain I wouldn’t be sick, I lay down on my side and cradled my head on my arm. I again slept without dreaming.

The next thing I was aware of was someone knocking at my door. I slid off the bed, disconcerted, and slipped on the hotel’s bathrobe, stumbling toward the door, running fingers through my bed-head. The headache had, thankfully, abated. I was curious but not alarmed about my visitor. Someone probably had the wrong room. I peeked through the fish eye and gasped, spinning around to press my back against the door, all vestiges of sleep gone in an instant. With a sudden rush my dream from early this morning came roaring back into my conscious memory.

My visitor knocked again, harder, and I jumped, making a disgusting “
Eep!
” sound that is generally restricted to startled women and stampeding sheep. I hate that. I took three large steps away from the door and spun to face it, more like I was dueling with the damn thing rather than contemplating my visitor on the other side. Maybe I was mistaken and this was another dream. I scrubbed my hands over my face, my heartbeat already beginning to slow. That only made sense. Now how had I woken myself up earlier? Something about—

“Maddy?” he called through the door, interrupting my train of thought. “I need you to open the door. There’s much to do tonight.”

How had he first invaded my dreams and, second, found me in person? And what did he mean tonight? I hadn’t even been up for the day yet. I peered around the corner of the bathroom wall and looked at the clock on the bedside table. It read 7:07, but there was no a.m. or p.m. It was only logical that it was evening, though, since I’d woken up earlier today and been relieved the sunlight was blocked.

“Maddy? I know you’re awake. Open the door, sweetheart.”

“What do you want, Bahlin?” I asked, taking a strange leap of faith that I recognized him from that dream. Besides, I was curious and feeling brazenly safe on my side of the door.

Something that sounded like “Bleedin’ faeries,” came through the door.

“What?” I asked, confused. Clutching my robe to my chest, I crept closer to the door.

“Nothing. Look, open the door and we’ll talk.”

I stood there, undecided.

“It would be easier if you’d willingly open the door, sweetheart.”

I kept the security bar on the door flipped closed and opened the door about two inches, my heart thundering in my chest, breaths shallow and fast. He was even bigger in the flesh. I began to hyperventilate and tried to slam the door shut. He shoved his giant sneaker-clad foot into the door and forced me to keep it marginally open.

“Don’t make this difficult, love. Open the door so I can rightly introduce myself to you,” he said, voice cajoling.

“Who. Are. You.”

“You’ve already answered that, Maddy. I’m Bahlin, and you’re about to be in over your head.”

“Oh right. Get me to open the door by threatening me. Brilliant.” I stepped away from the door, figuring that if I couldn’t get his foot dislodged, the very least I could do was grab some clothes and lock myself into the bathroom while I dialed front desk security. I turned away from the door and heard it shut with a clear
snick
. My shoulders sagged a little bit. Thank heavens he was gone. Maybe I should call for security before—

The security latch flipped back with a
thunk
and the electronic lock hummed right before the door swung open. Bahlin stood in the doorway scowling, wearing the same outfit he’d been wearing in my dream, plus the shoes.

“What the he-hell—” I stuttered, eyes nearly bugging out of my head.

“I told yeh it would be easier all around if yeh’d open the door, woman,” he interrupted, stepping inside the room and shutting the door. He shoved his hand through his hair, stalking into the room. “But no, yeh couldn’t answer the door like normal folk. Just like yehr great-grandda yeh are…” He stopped at the small secretary, yanked out the chair and sat.

It was like my brain suddenly engaged and thoughts clicked into place: The dream?
Click.
The lock disengaging itself?
Click
. The door opening?
Click.
My great-granddad?
I passed out cold.

I have no idea how long I was out. All I knew was that I came to with Bahlin leaning over me and pressing a cool cloth to my forehead.

“Gaaaa,” I yelled, sitting up so fast I should have hit him in the face. He sat back on his heels, apparently anticipating my physical reaction to his nearness. My head was pounding again, but nothing like it had been before. I could live with this. Now, what exactly had happened? Oh, yeah, he opened the door from the outside and said something about my great-grandfather. In a rush of adrenaline, I crab walked backward, putting some distance between us and likely flashing my cookies in the process. He stayed squatted on the balls of his feet, watching me.

“Are you going to listen now?” he asked, voice much calmer, brogue much less pronounced now that he wasn’t upset. What a shame. About the brogue, I mean.

“Listen to what? You confirm that you’re a maniac? Got it in one, Bahlin.” I crouched back against the bed, wedged into the side rails as if they could provide me with some type of protection. It was obvious, even to me that I was thinking clearly.

“Did you not get my message then?” he asked, standing and walking over to the desk.

I cringed back even further, nearly shoving myself under the bed.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He sat in the chair and dropped his head in his hands.

“What note,” I whispered, voice flat, eyes wide. I should have made for the front door, but in my panic to get away from him I’d put myself almost as far from it as I could have. Dumb, dumb, dumb. And then I remembered the two pieces of vellum-like paper that had come into my possession: one left in the car and one left here at the hotel.

As if reading my thoughts, he said, “I left a note for you at the front desk.”

“I got it,” I said quietly. “I just haven’t opened it yet.”

“What? Why the hell not?” His eyes flashed strangely in the lamplight as he shoved himself to standing and towered over me.

And it was then that I decided that if this lunatic was going to threaten me, I was going to give him a fight. I wasn’t going to get killed my first day in a foreign country and become a statistic so easily. No, I was going to at least make him bleed. I shot up off the floor like I’d been launched from a catapult, and he took a fast step back. But not fast enough. My upper cut caught him on the chin, snapping his head back. The pain blossomed in my hand as if I’d hit a brick wall. I’d never hit anyone before and the satisfaction was gratifying in the face of my determination.

“Bloody hell, woman.” He recovered before I could do more than turn to make a break for the door, and he grabbed me from behind. His arms were like steel bands wrapping around me and lifting me up off the floor. I’m no petite wallflower, so his strength was evident. I struggled, cursing him as actively, violently and creatively as I could. I kicked and struggled, but it was no use. He held me as if I were no more than a big load of laundry. It was humiliating.

“Stop,” he commanded in a cajoling voice, and for a moment I felt like obeying him. Yeah, that passed pretty quickly.

“Up yours.” I kicked some more, managing to wiggle an arm free, and I swung it down and back as hard as I could. Contact. He dropped me like a bag of grain, going to his knees and cupping his groin protectively, knocking the chair over as he went down. He bellowed with rage and was already getting up as I got away.

I sprinted across the room and went straight to the first open door I saw, the bathroom. I locked myself in and, breathing like a racehorse, I sank to the floor.

“Damn it all to hell, this is
not
happening,” I said, gasping for breath. There was nothing in the bathroom to shove under the door handle, so I turned around and set my back against the door itself, bracing my feet against the marble floor. I grabbed the telephone and called down to the front desk.

“Guest services. How may I help you?” came a pleasant voice over the receiver.

“Call security. There’s a strange man in my room and I’m afraid he’s—”

“Open the damned door, Maddy. Now,” Bahlin yelled.

“Ma’am? Do you require assistance?” asked the voice, now concerned, on the other end of the line.

“Screw you, Bahlin,” I screamed at him, panting. “I’m calling for security.”

He laughed, a dark and threatening sound. “Good luck with that, Maddy. Open the door, girl, or I’ll be in there with you in a heartbeat.”

“Ma’am? I’m sorry. I can’t call security on Bahlin. I can only assure you that, unless provoked, he won’t hurt you. Thank you for choosing the Pemberton. Have a nice evening.” And the cultured front desk voice hung up on me.

What the freaking hell?
What kind of hotel had I checked into?

I dialed back, and the same voice answered.

“Send security
now
you coward. You better get someone up here before I come down there and—”
Click.
He hung up on me.

I threw the phone across the bathroom only to have it careen back when the cord drew tight. Now
I
felt like the idiot. I sat there breathing hard and thought about what the front desk clerk had said. I wondered if punching Bahlin in the ’nads counted as provoking him? I was going to go out on a limb and say yes. And since I’d been advised he wouldn’t hurt me unless provoked, and I had deduced he’d been provoked by my person, I was in deep shit.

“I’ll ask yeh one last time, woman,” Bahlin growled through the door. Uh oh. The heavy brogue was back.

Stalling, I called out, “What about the note? What’s in it?”

The answer was an extended silence, and then I could hear him moving about the room.

“Where have you hidden the damned thing?” he muttered. It sounded like he was going through my things. “Ah ha. Here we are. What’s this?” I heard him pull the chair back into its upright position. He groaned when he sat down. “I doubt I’ll be able to function properly for a week.” There was the rustling of heavy paper, then total quiet.

I sat with my back to the bathroom door, listening to him first mumble to himself and then sit in silence. How had this happened to me? First the recurring nightmares, then my delusional experiences at the stones, then the notes left in my car and at the desk, then the morning’s strange dream, and now the evening’s even stranger reality. It was all so farfetched it was unbelievable. But then, the notes were solid. I’d touched them. The dream was real. I’d recognized Bahlin and known his name. The man was real. I’d felt him. Using
modus ponens
, if this was tangible then it must be believable. Ergo, it was very believable. Wait. I was using logic to make sense of this? And where the hell had I come up with
modus ponens
? I began to shake. First the imaginary events at the stone circle and now this. I was losing my mind.

I heard footsteps approach the door.

“Maddy,” Bahlin said softly, a complete change of character from only moments before. “Maddy, open the door. Please.”

I didn’t respond.

“Maddy, I
will
open this door, but I would prefer you do it yourself.”

I stood, my muscles shaking from adrenaline overload and the fear of my apparent break with reality. I turned and put my hand on the bathroom door handle. If I believed what was happening, then I knew Bahlin could open this door. Even if he couldn’t use telekinesis, he’s strong enough to force his way in. I turned the door handle, pulling the door open and jumped back. He was leaning against the door jam, eyes closed, arms at his sides. I took a quick step backward, wondering how I would defend myself in such a small space. Hair gel to the eyes? Then I realized he was holding both pieces of vellum in one hand.

“You went through my
pants
?” I shrieked, realizing where he had to have found the papers.

“You weren’t in them so don’t screech at me,” he answered, never opening his eyes.

I stood there, not sure whether to push past him and retrieve my clothes or stand in front of him, indefinitely, in my borrowed bathrobe. I chose clothes.