My Lord Immortality Read online

  No one would be allowed to put William in that horrid place. Perhaps he was dull-witted, and at times rather odd. And there could be no doubt he was inclined to wander off without regard to himself or those who fretted over him. But he was not daft. Nor was he a danger to others.

  Still, she had to admit that there were times when she felt the burden of caring for William more heavily than others. Times such as this.

  She held the candle high as she entered the small lane that lay beyond her garden, careful to avoid the inevitable rubbish that was carelessly tossed about. Ahead she could hear the shuffle of footsteps and she hurried her pace. The sooner she caught up to William, the sooner she could return to her bed.

  Unfortunately, no matter how swiftly she attempted to make her way through the shadows, she could not catch her brother’s far longer strides. Muttering a curse, she passed by the darkened houses, her poor feet protesting her maltreatment. On and on she went. Past one street and then another. It was not until she was near the derelict stables that had been left abandoned years ago that she heard a sound of scuffling and came to an abrupt halt.

  At last.

  Peering through an overgrown hedge, Amelia was able to faintly make out a shadowed shape. It had to be William. Who else would be skulking in the alley at this time of night? But then the shadow shifted and her relief was swiftly smothered. There was a fluid stealth to the shadow that was nothing at all like William’s clumsy movements.

  She leaned forward, attempting to determine the exact nature of the shadow, only to feel her heart come to a halt.

  There was something wrong. Something terribly wrong.

  Even from a distance she could sense a dark, smoldering malice. It was in the unnatural chill in the air. In the thick silence that was nearly choking.

  And there was a smell . . . a smell of cold steel shared with something far more foul.

  Prickles of alarm raced down her spine as she heedlessly dropped the candle. She should flee, a voice warned from the back of her mind. Whatever was in the shadows was evil. And dangerous. She had to leave before it could turn the malignant attention in her direction.

  A wise decision, no doubt. Unfortunately, it had barely formed in her mind when the shadow stilled and then slowly shifted toward her frozen form.

  “Who is there?” a voice hissed.

  Amelia bit her bottom lip to keep herself from squeaking in startled alarm. Through the hedge it appeared that the shadow was . . . formless. As though it flowed and shifted like mercury upon water. It had to be a trick of the moonlight, she tried to reassure herself. Shapeless shadows did not exist except in children’s nightmares. Not even on the narrow, mean streets of London.

  Then the shadow once again shifted and, unbelievably, Amelia’s horror only deepened. There was something on the ground. A body, she slowly realized. A body that was not moving and that was covered in a dark, ghastly dampness that she very much feared was blood.

  Dear heavens, she had to get away.

  “I feel you,” the shadow rasped in a hollow voice. “I smell your lovely, warm blood. Come to me. Come and offer yourself to me.”

  A faint tingle raced through Amelia at the command. Almost as if the words held a strange power. But even as her mind seemed to cloud, there was a sharp stab of warmth that seared against her skin. Her trembling fingers lifted to touch the amulet about her neck. It was hot to the touch, and strangely comforting.

  The shadow, however, appeared to shrink as she grimly held on to the Medallion, a steely hiss echoing through the air.

  “You.” Slowly, steadily the shadow grew larger, leeching its way toward the hedge. “Come to me.”

  “No,” Amelia whispered, forcing her shaky legs to take a step backward.

  “Do not fear. I will not harm you. Come.”

  Amelia froze. What was this thing? Nothing human, surely? A thing of nightmares. Of horror stories.

  A sob was wrenched from her throat, but even as the shadow neared, there was a sudden flurry of movement from behind the shadow. In less than the beat of a heart, a large, utterly solid form had blocked the path between her and the advancing danger.

  A form that thankfully appeared to be human.

  “Halt.” The new form held up an arm and Amelia could see the glint of a sharp blade in the silver moonlight. “I will not allow this.”

  A dark, grating laugh echoed through the silence. “You? You will not allow?”

  Amelia’s rescuer never wavered. “No.”

  “Do not be more of a fool than you need to be. Return to your books and pathetic studies. You do not possess the courage nor the will to confront me.”

  “Shall we see? Shall we test the strength of my dagger? I do not fear you.”

  Lost in a thick fog of terror, Amelia nevertheless managed to notice that the gentleman now standing between her and the shadow was surprisingly large. Not only tall, but broad through the shoulders and possessing the type of chiseled muscles not often seen in society.

  She also realized that his rich, smoky tones held a trace of an accent that was impossible to trace.

  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 ca
t 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.

  Chapter 2

  Early the next morning, Sebastian St. Ives sat alone in his library. A heavy, leather-bound book lay open upon his lap, but his attention refused to remain focused upon the ancient teachings of Plato. Instead, his pale, slender fingers tapped upon the leather chair and his narrowed gaze was trained upon the empty grate.

  In the distance he could detect the faint scent of Drake. It was a scent that at the moment he barely noted. The vampire would not soon be leaving his lair. After slaying and feasting upon the blood of humans he was now cursed with the sun bane. It would not be until darkness once again claimed London that he would return to the streets.

  There was another scent, however, that was far more distracting.

  The scent of Miss Hadwell.

  A scent that was growing ever closer.

  Sebastian frowned. It was odd how easily he was able to sense the maiden. He had made a deliberate decision when he left the Veil to remain in the shadows. He was settled in a position to keep a careful eye upon the treacherous vampire—and ensure that he could halt any attempt to lure the maiden into handing over the Medallion. He was certain that in time Drake would weary of his futile games and return to the Veil.

  A reasonable plan and one that had worked quite well until last evening.

  His frown deepened. Last evening had changed everything.

  The sight of Miss Hadwell standing in the dark as Drake crept ever closer made him realize how swiftly the vampire could strike. Had he not been on the trail of Drake, he might never have arrived before the maiden had been lured into handing over the amulet.

  Even worse, upon meeting Miss Hadwell, he was forced to realize that she was not the timid, reclusive soul that he had hoped. This was no maiden who would run screaming in terror at the first hint of danger. Instead, she was bold and reckless, with a fierce determination to protect her brother. Traits that Drake would no doubt use to his full advantage.