My Lord Eternity (18 page)

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Authors: Alexandra Ivy

BOOK: My Lord Eternity
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Not that she particularly cared if he were a foreigner or not, she acknowledged with a near-hysterical urge to laugh. At the moment she would have welcomed the devil himself if he were here to protect her.
The shadow seemed to swirl, then, with a sudden hiss, it slowly began to retreat toward the nearby stables.
“We will settle this later, fool. I must think how best to punish you for your insolence,” the shadow warned before it disappeared entirely.
For a breathless moment there was nothing but the thick silence; then, with a flowing swiftness that was oddly similar to that of the deadly shadow, the gentleman turned and threaded his way through the thick hedge. Amelia regarded him with a sense of lingering shock, not even flinching when he reached out to gently touch her hair.
“Are you harmed?” he demanded in soft tones.
Amelia struggled to breathe as she pressed a hand to her painfully racing heart. “No. I . . . what was that thing?”
He seemed to hesitate. “A creature. A creature of the dark.”
“Creature?” Amelia gave a sudden shudder. Did he mean an animal? No. She had seen what she had seen. That had been something other than human or animal. “What sort of creature?”
Without warning, he reached out to grasp her arm in a firm grip. “Come, we must not linger here.”
Before she even knew what was happening, Amelia discovered herself being tugged away from the hedge and turned back down the alley toward her home. Just for a moment, she allowed herself to follow his lead, wanting nothing more than to be back in the comforting familiarity of her tiny home. Then she abruptly dug her bare heels into the dirt.
“Wait. I must find my brother. I was following him when that shadow appeared.”
His grip tightened, almost as if he considered physically dragging her away from danger. Then he drew in a deep breath.
“Very well, but we must be swift,” he said. Without waiting for her approval, the man turned and began searching the high hedges for a sign of her missing brother. He had taken only half a dozen steps when he softly called out, “He is here.”
Attempting to still the shaking that still clutched at her body, Amelia moved to stand beside her unknown savior, her gaze searching the hedge until she discovered William happily seated on the filthy ground.
Her brief flare of relief was swiftly replaced by a bout of annoyance. As always, her brother was utterly indifferent to the world, and dangers, about him.
“William, what in heaven's name are you doing?” she demanded in sharp tones.
Glancing upward, her brother offered her that sweet, heart-melting smile that never failed to touch her.
“Cats,” he said, pointing at his lap.
Amelia prayed for patience as she noted the numerous kittens that had crawled into a tight ball upon his legs, along with his own stray. Well, she at least now knew where that demon-spawned cat of William's had been disappearing to at night. And precisely what he had been doing during his midnight excursions.
“Cats,” William repeated with a wide smile.
“Yes, I see.”
“Cats and cats.”
“Yes, there are many cats, William, but it is very late. You should be in your bed. A bed you should never have left, as you well know.”
William simply smiled, but at her side the shadowed gentleman stirred with growing impatience.
“We must be away from here,” he said in low tones. “There is still danger.”
She was not about to argue. Not when she fully agreed with his impeccable logic. She did not yet know enough of this shadow creature to be certain that it might not suddenly decide to reappear.
“Come along, William. It is time we return home.”
William heaved a sad sigh, but thankfully began to replace the kittens in the hedge before clutching his renegade black cat in his arms and rising to his feet.
“Cats.”
“Yes, yes. We shall visit them later.”
Taking her brother's hand, Amelia joined the impatient gentleman as he turned back down the alley. In silence the three moved down the cramped lane, their footsteps echoing eerily. For a time, Amelia was simply relieved to be moving away from the nightmare that had haunted the abandoned stables. But as they continued onward, she discovered her gaze covertly studying the large male form at her side.
“Will you tell me of that creature?” she demanded in tones soft enough not to attract her brother's wandering attention.
“Perhaps. But not tonight. For now we must concentrate on returning you safely home.”
She grimaced. She had expected no less. He appeared decidedly reluctant to reveal what he knew of the evil shadow.
“Then at least give me your name so I can properly thank you for rescuing me,” she persisted.
“No thanks are necessary. I but did my duty.”
Amelia frowned at the odd choice of words. “Duty? Surely it is not your duty to roam the darkness and rescue maidens in danger?”
Rather than answering her question, the man raised a sudden hand, bringing all three of them to a halt.
“Hold a moment.”
“What is it?” she demanded in sudden fear. Dear heavens, she was not prepared for another encounter with unnatural spirits.
“Someone approaches,” he answered, pointing toward the unmistakable glow of a lantern.
Peering through the darkness, Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh. It is the Watch.”
“We must not be seen,” the man at her side commanded in low tones.
She stiffened in surprise. “Why? We should tell them of the shadow.” She gave a shiver as she recalled the recent encounter. “And there was a body on the ground . . . I think that creature murdered some poor soul.”
He moved closer, the rich scent of his warm skin a welcome exchange from the stench of the alley.
“Someone was murdered, indeed. Do you wish to be the one who claims that it was a mere shadow?”
“But we both saw it. . . .”
“It would not matter if the entire neighborhood witnessed the murder,” he insisted, his head deliberately turning toward the silent William, who stood behind them. “The Watch cannot arrest and hang a shadow. They will desire a more tangible suspect to haul before the magistrate.”
Amelia's breath caught at his horrid implication. “You cannot mean William? He has done nothing.”
“Are you so certain that the authorities will believe in his innocence?”
She itched to reach up and slap him for even daring to imply someone could possibly think so ill of William. He was sweet and kind and utterly incapable of harming another soul. But even as the fury raced through her, a sensible voice urged her to consider the danger.
It was true that William was completely without guile. And that he would never lift a hand toward another. But she could not entirely deny that there were always those willing to believe the worst of her brother.
Because of his simple nature and large size, it was easy to presume that he could pose a danger. Few would take the time to discover his soft heart beneath his odd demeanor.
She gnawed her lower lip as she watched the lantern come ever closer. “Perhaps you are right.”
“Follow me,” he urged, stepping out of the alley and into the garden of one of the town houses.
Regaining her brother's hand, Amelia hurriedly set out after the swiftly moving form. In martyred silence, she ignored the brambles and stones that cut into her feet, and even the realization that they were blatantly trespassing from one garden to another. But as he actually angled up a path to one of the darkened houses and pulled open the kitchen door, she came to an uncertain halt.
“What are you doing?” she demanded in breathless tones.
“Leading you into my house,” he retorted before he disappeared into the darkness within.
Feeling rather foolish, Amelia tugged her brother forward and stepped over the threshold. Once inside, however, she was forced to come to a halt as the darkness shrouded about her.
“A moment,” the disembodied voice of her rescuer whispered through the air, sending an odd chill down her spine.
Not fear, she rather inanely realized. Instead, a stirring fascination with this man who had appeared from the darkness to save her.
There was a faint rasp of a flint before soft candlelight bathed the room.
Amelia blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. A moment later her breath tangled in her throat as she regarded the stranger.
Good heavens. He was . . . beautiful.
Fiercely, hauntingly beautiful, from his long, lustrous bronze hair that flowed past his broad shoulders to the powerful thrust of his legs. Even his unadorned black coat and breeches only served to reveal the fluid elegance of his body. Bemused, her gaze slowly lifted, tracing the crisply tied cravat to at last reach the lean countenance.
In the candlelight his features were shadowed, but there was no mistaking the startling perfection of his smooth, alabaster skin and finely sculpted features. Almost absently, she noticed that his nose was long and slender, his lips surprisingly full, and his brows the same shade as the bronze hair.
But in the end, it was his eyes that captured and held her attention.
Never had she seen eyes that were such a pure, molten silver. Eyes that glowed with a fierce intelligence. Eyes that seemed to hold her with a force she could feel to her very soul.
She should say something, a dry voice whispered in the back of her mind. Something that would bring an end to the thick, prickling silence that sent a rash of excitement over her skin.
“Oh,” was all she could manage.
Thankfully unaware of her predicament, the gentleman lifted an elegant hand to wave it toward the nearby stairs.
“If you take these stairs, they will lead you to the front of the house. You may leave through the main door. Take care not to be seen.”
Leave? Alone?
Amelia struggled to clear her foggy wits. “But, what of you?”
The pale countenance was grim as he glanced toward the open door. “I will ensure that the danger does not attempt to follow you. And also distract the Watch if need be.”
“But . . .”
He stepped forward, those silver eyes glowing with a determined light. “See to your brother. No one must suspect that he was out of his home on this night. That is all that need concern you for now.”
Her mouth opened to argue. She was unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone. Even those gentlemen who had saved her life. But before she could utter even a word, he was moving with that uncanny swiftness to press the candle into her hand and had disappeared through the open door.
She drew in a shaky breath.
Well. So far, it had been quite an evening.
She had lost her brother. Been confronted by a monstrous shadow that had ruthlessly murdered some poor soul. Been saved by a stranger. Run from the Watch. And now was abandoned in a strange house.
Oh, yes. Quite an evening.
Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of
the next book in Alexandra Ivy's
Guardians of Eternity
series,
 
DARKNESS AVENGED,
 
coming in June 2013!
Prologue
The Legend of the Veil
The myths surrounding the creation of the Veil were a dime a dozen, and worth even less.
Some said it was the work of angels who had become lost in the mists of time.
Others said that it was a rip in space made during the big bang.
The current favorite was that Nefri, an ancient vampire with a mystical medallion, created the Veil to provide a little slice of paradise for her clan, the Immortal Ones. According to this particular rumor, it was whispered that on the other side there was no hunger, no bloodlust, and no passion. Only an endless peace.
It was a myth that Nefri, as well as the Oracles that sat on the Commission (rulers of the demon-world) were happy to encourage.
The truth of the Veil was far less romantic.
It was nothing more or less than a prison.
A creation of the Oracles to contain an ancient mistake that could destroy them all . . .
Chapter 1
Viper's Vampire Club
On the banks of the Mississippi River south of Chicago
 
The music throbbed with a heavy, death metal bass that would have toppled the nearby buildings if the demon club hadn't been wrapped in spells of protection. The imp magic not only made the large building appear like an abandoned warehouse to the local humans of the small Midwest town, but it captured any sound.
A damned good thing since the blasting music wasn't the only noise that would freak out the mortal neighbors.
Granted, the first floor looked normal enough. The vast lobby was decorated in a neoclassical style with floors made of polished wood, and walls painted a pale green with silver engravings. Even the ceiling was covered with some fancy-assed painting of Apollo on his chariot dashing through the clouds.
Upstairs was the same. The private apartments were elegantly appointed and designed with comfort in mind for those guests willing to pay the exorbitant fees for a few hours of privacy.
But once admitted past the heavy double doors that led to the lower levels all pretense of civilization came to an end.
Down in the darkness the demons were encouraged to come out and play with wild abandon.
And no one, absolutely no one, could play as rough and wild and downright nasty as demons.
Standing in the shadows, Santiago, a tall exquisitely handsome vampire with long, raven hair, dark eyes, and distinctly Spanish features allowed his gaze to skim over his domain.
The circular room was the size of a large auditorium and made of black marble with a series of tiers that terraced downward. On each tier were a number of steel tables and stools that were bolted to the marble. Narrow staircases led to a pit built in the middle of the lowest floor and filled with sand.
The overhead chandeliers spilled small pools of light near the tables, while keeping enough darkness for those guests who preferred to remain concealed.
Not that there was a need for secrecy in the club.
The crowd was made up of vamps, Weres, and fairies, along with several trolls, an orc, and the rare Sylvermysts (the dark fey who'd recently revealed their presence in the world). They came to fight in the pit for a chance at fleeting glory. Or to indulge in the pleasures his various hosts and hostesses offered, whether it was feeding or sex.
None of them were known for their modesty.
Especially when they were in the mood to celebrate.
Santiago grimaced, his frigid power lashing through the air to send several young Weres scurrying across the crowded room.
He understood their jubilation.
It wasn't every day that an evil deity was destroyed, the hordes of hell turned away, and Armageddon averted.
But after a month of enduring the endless happy, happy, joy, joy his own mood was tilting toward homicidal.
Well, perhaps it was more than just tilting he grimly conceded as a tableful of trolls broke into a violent brawl, knocking each other over the railing and onto the Weres seated below.
The domino effect was instantaneous.
With infuriated growls the Weres shifted, tearing into the trolls. At the same time the nearby Sylvermysts leaped into the growing fight, the herb-scent of their blood swiftly filling the air.
His massive fangs ached with the need to join in the melee. Perhaps a good, old-fashioned beat-down would ease his choking frustration.
Unfortunately, his clan chief, Viper, had trusted him to manage the popular club. Which meant no extracurricular bloodbaths. No matter what the temptation.
Buzz kill.
Watching his well-trained bouncers move to put an end to the fight, Santiago turned his head as the smell of blood was replaced by the rich aroma of plums.
His lips curled as the violence choking the air was abruptly replaced by a heated lust.
Understandable.
Tonya could make a man drool at a hundred paces.
Stunningly beautiful with pale skin and slanted emerald eyes, the imp could also claim perfect curves and a stunning mane of red hair. But Santiago hadn't chosen her as his most trusted assistant because of her outrageous sex appeal.
Like all imps, she possessed a talent for business and the ability to create powerful illusions. She could also hex objects, although Santiago made sure that particular talent was only used on the humans who patronized the tea shop next door. Most demons were immune to fey magic, but Tonya had royal blood and her powers were far more addictive than most.
His loyal customers would never return if they suspected he allowed them to be enthralled by the beautiful imp.
Wearing a silver dress that was designed to tempt rather than cover, she came to a halt at his side, a smile curving her lush lips even as her shrewd gaze monitored the hosts and hostesses that strolled through the room offering their services.
“A nice crowd,” she murmured.
Santiago grimaced. Unlike his assistant he was wearing plain black jeans and a dark T-shirt that clung to his wide chest. And, of course, he'd accessorized the casual attire with a massive sword strapped to his back and handgun holstered at his hip.
Never let it be said he went to a party underdressed.
“Nice isn't a word I'd associate with this mob.” Tonya glanced toward the tribe of Sylvermysts who were reluctantly returning to their table. The warriors possessed the striking features of all fey with long hair in various shades of gold to chestnut. But their eyes blazed with a strange metallic sheen.
“Oh I don't know,” she purred. “There's one or two I'd consider edible.”
“Your definition of edible is appallingly indiscriminate.”
She turned her head to study him with an all too knowing gaze. “Yeah well, at least I haven't been neutered.”
Santiago curled his hands into tight fists, fury jolting through him. Oh no, she didn't just go there.
“Careful, Tonya.”
“When was the last time you got laid?”
The air temperature dropped by several degrees.
“We're so not going to discuss this,” he snarled, his voice pitched low enough it wouldn't carry. Despite the earsplitting music, there were demons who could hear a freaking pin drop a mile away. “Especially not in front of an audience.”
Foolishly ignoring his don't-fuck-with-me vibes, Tonya planted her hands on her full hips.
“I've tried to discuss it in private, but you keep shutting me down.”
“Because it's none of your damned business.”
“It is when your foul mood begins affecting the club.”
His fangs throbbed. “Don't press me.”
“If I don't, who will?” The female refused to back down, the words she clearly longed to fling at him for days at last bursting past her lips. “You prowl through the halls snapping at everyone who is stupid enough to cross your path. I've had six waitresses and two bouncers quit in the past month.”
His jaw hardened with a stubborn refusal to admit she was right.
If he did . . .
Well that would mean he'd have to admit he
had
been neutered.
Not only sexually, although that was god awful enough to admit. After all, he was a vampire. His appetite for sex was supposed to be insatiable.
But his general lust for life.
Suddenly his enjoyment in pursuing beautiful women and spending time with his clan brothers was replaced by a gnawing frustration. And his pride in running a club that was infamous throughout the demon world was replaced by an itch that he couldn't scratch.
It was something he was trying to ignore under the theory that it was like a bad hangover; something you suffered through and forgot as soon as the next party came along.
“Hire more,” he growled.
Her eyes narrowed. “Easy for you to say.”
“Hey, you know where the door . . .”
“I'm not done,” she interrupted.
His dark brows pulled together in a warning scowl. “Imp, you're pissing on my last nerve.”
“And that's my point.” She pointed a finger toward the belligerent crowd that continued to eyeball one another with the threat of violence. “This mood of yours is not only infecting the employees, but the patrons as well. Every night we're a breath away from a riot.”
He snorted, folding his arms over his wide chest.
“I run a demon club that caters to blood, sex, and violence. What do you expect? Line dancing, gin fizzes, and karaoke?”
“The atmosphere is always aggressive, but in the past few weeks it's been explosive. We've had more fights just tonight than we've had in the past two years.”
“Haven't you heard the news? We're celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord?” he tried to bluster. “A new beginning . . . blah, blah, blah.”
Like a dog with a bone, Tonya refused to let it go.
“Does that look like celebrating?” Once again she stabbed her finger toward the seething crowd. “Your frustration is contaminating everyone.”
Santiago couldn't argue.
The club wasn't Disneyland, but it wasn't usually a bloodbath.
At least not unless you were stupid enough to join in the cage matches.
“So what are you suggesting?”
“You have two options.” Tonya offered a tight smile. “Go kill something, or fuck it. Hell, do both.”
He snorted. “Are you offering?”
“I would if I thought it would do any good,” she admitted bluntly. “As it is . . .” her words trailed away as she gave a lift of her hand, gesturing toward a distant corner.
“What?”
“I have something more suitable to your current taste in females.”
Santiago wasn't sure what he expected.
Maybe twin imps. He'd always had a weakness for matched sets.
Twinning
. . .
Or maybe a harpy in heat.
Nothing was more certain to distract a man than a week of incessant, no-holds-barred, balls-aching sex.
Instead a female vampire stepped from the shadows.
“
Mierde
,” he hissed in shock.
Not because the woman was stunning. That was a given. All vampire females were drop-dead gorgeous.
But this one had an eerie familiarity with her long, black hair and dark eyes that contrasted so sharply with her pale skin.
Nefri.
No, not Nefri, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.
The face was more angular and the approaching female was lacking the regal aloofness that shrouded the real Nefri.
Not to mention a lack of kick-ass power that would have all of them reeling beneath the impact of her presence.
But she was close enough to make his gut twist into painful knots.
“Will she do?” Tonya murmured.
“Get rid of her,” he commanded, his voice thick.
Tonya frowned in confusion. “What?”
“Get rid of her. Now.”
Spinning on his heel, he headed toward the stairs leading out of the lower levels.
He had to get out.
“Santiago,” Tonya called behind him. “Goddammit.”
The crowd parted beneath the force of his icy power, most of them scrambling out of his way with a gratifying haste as he climbed the stairs and entered the lobby.
Not that he noticed.
He was way too busy convincing himself that his retreat was nothing more than anger at Tonya's interference.
As if he needed the fey prying into his sex life. She was supposed to be his assistant, not his pimp. If he wanted a damned female he could get one himself. Hell, he could get a dozen.
And not one of them would be some pitiful substitute for the aggravating, infuriating, impossible female who had simply abandoned him to return behind the Veil....
“Trouble in paradise,
mi amigo
?”
It was a testament to just how distracted he was that he was nearly across the marble floor of the lobby and he hadn't noticed the vampire standing near the door to his office.
Dios
.
If he could miss the current Anasso (the ultimate king of all vampires) then his head was truly up his ass.
Styx was a six foot five Aztec warrior dressed in black leather with a sword big enough to carve through a full-blooded troll strapped to his back. And of course, there was his massive power that pulsed through the air like sonic waves.

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