Eternity Page 4

  She slammed the trunk lid quickly as soon as she’d let go of it, raced around the car and jumped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door and locking it.

  She was still crying about running over the poor little bat when she finally got to the police station.

  * * * *

  For several moments, Nigel stared blankly at the vacant spot where the woman had been standing before it dawned on him that she was probably running for help. The one thing he definitely did not need at the moment, when he was still so weak and disoriented, was problems with the local authorities.

  He was so shocked by her assertion that it was Two Thousand and Four, however, that he’d slept for two and a half centuries, that he couldn’t seem to think beyond that and the implications of it.

  Finally, he shook himself and started after her.

  He’d lost valuable time, though, and by the time he reached the door, she’d leapt into the strange carriage he’d seen sitting out front.

  God only knew why. There weren’t any horses attached to the thing. How the hell did she think she was going to get away from him like that?

  The thought had barely registered in his mind when the carriage took off like a bullet shot from the barrel of a gun, kicking up clods of dirt and rocks that peppered him like cannon shrapnel.

  He could do nothing but gape at the retreating carriage in stunned surprise for several moments. Finally, he regained enough presence of mind to concentrate on morphing. Unfortunately, he quickly discovered that his powers were still not quite what they had been before he’d gone into deep hibernation. He morphed, but his clothing did not. By the time he’d managed to extricate himself from the garments he’d been wearing, the tail of the carriage was already disappearing from view.

  Gritting his teeth, he launched himself into the air. Whatever that strange looking carriage was, he knew he could fly faster than it could cover the ground and he had the added advantage of being able to gain on her by being airborne when she was forced to follow the road.

  It was stunningly fast. Not only had it taken off like a bullet, but it continued to gain speed. As rapidly as he covered the distance, it was a struggle to gain on the carriage.

  A sense of triumph filled him as he drew even with it at last and he poured forth more energy, gaining upon it slowly but surely, drawing abreast of her.

  She glanced at him through the glass and he knew she realized she was done for now.

  The last thing he remembered was the expression of horror on her face when her carriage overtook him and he slammed into the glass.

  * * * *

  Emily glared sullenly at the cops as they glanced around her room, scribbled on their pads and exchanged speaking glances.

  Admittedly, she’d been in a state when she’d arrived at the police station. First she’d had the wits scared out of her by the lunatic, and then she’d run down a poor, defenseless animal. The two incidents so closely together had her nerves all to pieces, particularly when added to the disaster the castle was.

  They had assured her there were no reports of any lunatics missing from any insane asylums. In fact, there wasn’t even a mental hospital within a hundred miles. She knew, even when they had finally agreed to come out and check things out for her that they’d already made up their minds that she was the one that was crazy.

  It hadn’t helped that they’d found her pink jogging suit lying on the threshold--the pink jogging suit she’d told them the lunatic was wearing.

  The first cop to reach her door had squatted down and examined it and asked if it was the item that had been ‘allegedly’ burgaled from her home.

  Everything had gone downhill from there.

  After a grand total of thirty minutes, tops, they had completed their ‘preliminary’ investigation and cleared out. She knew they wouldn’t be back.

  She knew everybody in the tiny little town would be talking about the kooky American that had moved into the ruins of the Castle MacKissack.

  It wasn’t until they drove off that she thought about the bat again.

  Chastising herself for heaping thoughtlessness on top of carelessness, she ran out to the car and climbed in. Popping the trunk, she craned around in the seat to watch it fly out, certain it would’ve regained consciousness by now.

  She didn’t see anything and after a few moments she climbed out of the car again, moved around it cautiously, and peered into the trunk.

  The lunatic was lying in her trunk, buck ass naked!

  "How the hell did you get in my trunk!" Emily demanded.

  Holding his head, he looked around in confusion and finally began struggling to climb out. Emily was of more than half a mind to slam the hood on him, but she couldn’t help but notice he seemed injured.

  Her sympathy lasted until she saw the hamburger wrapper stuck to his back. "Oh god! You crushed it!"

  "What?"

  "The bat! The bat I hit with the car! I was trying to save the poor little thing and you’ve crushed it, you big jerk!"

  She couldn’t bear to look. The poor little thing had looked bad enough after it hit her wind shield.

  "Is it dead?"

  He looked at her curiously. "Is what dead?"

  "The bat, damn it!"

  "Not quite," he muttered, staggering a little drunkenly toward her front door.

  She forgot about the bat when she saw him heading toward her door. Racing around him, she planted herself on the threshold and grasped the door frame on either side, barring his entrance. He stared at her for several moments when he reached her and finally grasped her around the waist, lifting her off the floor. Turning, he set her just outside, crossed the threshold and slammed the door in her face. Before she could grab the latch, she heard the bolt slam home.

  Emily gaped at the vibrating door a good five seconds before rage set in. She began hammering on the door with her fist, kicking it when her fists started smarting from the pounding. "Let me in, you ass hole!"

  "Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin," he growled from the other side of the door.

  "Smart ass!" She rattled the door again, but she knew there was no way she was going to be able to beat it down.

  Turning, she studied the car speculatively for several moments, but finally dismissed the thought. She didn’t want a car sized hole where her front door had been and, besides, the whole fucking castle would probably disintegrate and all she would have was a bigger pile of stones.

  She was tempted to try the windows, but it was black as Hades and she didn’t particularly like stumbling around in the dark. Finally, realizing there was no hope for it, she slammed the trunk lid closed and climbed into back of the car, locking the doors and then finding what comfort she could on the back seat.

  She was just starting to doze off when she heard a roar from inside the castle that made her hair stand on end. Sitting up, she listened intently. A few moments later, the lunatic, wearing her jogging pants, wrenched the front door open and stalked toward her.

  Leaning down, he glared at her through the window. "Where’s my bloody gold, woman?"

  Emily didn’t know why she was surprised that the guy was claiming her gold, too, but she was--maybe because it seemed strange that he knew about it if he hadn’t put it there?

  She tried to give him a look of total incomprehension, but she felt the guilt creep into her expression. After trying to stare him down for several moments, she decided retreat might be the better part of valor and climbed over the seat back into the front seat of the car. That was when she discovered that the keys weren’t in the ignition. They were in her pocketbook, inside the castle.

  Feeling a prickle of uneasiness creeping down her spine, she scooted to the center of the front seat, staring at the man fixedly, wondering if he was about to bust the glass out of the window and come in after her.

  To her surprise, the look of rage slowly changed to one of speculation and then concentration. His image began to waver. She closed her eyes, rubbed them. When she opened
her eyes again he looked as if he was slowly disappearing into nothingness--well, not nothingness, smoke.

  She rubbed her eyes again and leaned toward the window to peer down at the ground. Her pink jogging pants lay on the ground. Wisps of smoke swirled above them, moving sinuously, almost purposely, along the car, as if testing the doors and windows. After a few moments, it disappeared under the car.

  She sat up, peering down at the ground where the snake like coil of smoke had disappeared. It didn’t reappear and after a moment, she sat back, turning to move to the other side of the car to see if it was visible from there.

  She didn’t have to move that far, however. Even as she turned, she saw that the smoke was drifting through the vents. As she watched, it settled in the seat beside her, thickened, became more and more substantial. Her jaw dropped lower and lower and her eyes got wider and wider.

  Solid once more, he grasped her upper arms and hauled her across the seat until they were almost nose to nose.

  Emily managed to suck in a breath. She licked her dry lips. "You are a ghost," she said weakly.

  He frowned. "I’m no ghost, but I’ll gi’ ye a wee hint, lass," he said gruffly, curling his lips in a parody of a smile and displaying a set of very white teeth which featured two very long, very sharp fangs.

  Chapter Five

  Dizziness washed over Emily as she stared at that set of pearly white fangs and her brain sluggishly tried to add, fangs, plus coffin, plus sleeping for two and half centuries, plus changing into smoke and wafting through the car’s ventilation system.

  "Werewolf?" she hazarded weakly.

  His eyes narrowed. "Vampire," he snarled.

  It was the coward’s way out and she knew it, but she welcomed the dizziness and the encroaching darkness, tried to concentrate on summoning it. Instead, it seemed the harder she wished for unconsciousness, the further it slipped from her reach.

  She couldn’t faint, but she was so weak with terror that she couldn’t move either.

  Apparently satisfied with her reaction, he climbed out of the car, dragged her out and hoisted her into his arms, heading back inside the castle.

  Emily leaned weakly against him, trying to formulate a plan.

  Her keys were in her pocketbook on the bed in the master suite. If he took her there, she would have the chance to get it, but, then where to go? The cops already thought she was a nut case. If she showed up at the police station again tonight, this time claiming the man was a vampire, they’d probably lock her up.

  She considered that as he climbed the stairs with her, wondering if she would be safe from him if they locked her up.

  It didn’t seem likely if he could change into a puff of smoke and ooze through the tiniest cracks that a jail cell would be all that safe, besides which she’d be trapped.

  What were the rules about vampires, she wondered a little frantically? She’d never really been ‘in’ to that particular cult, but she’d seen some vampire movies. She ought to be able to remember something useful.

  ‘Church’ popped into her mind abruptly. Vampires were evil creatures and ungodly and couldn’t go inside a church.

  She also remembered that they couldn’t come in unless they were invited, but how would that pertain to a house that they claimed? So far as she could see the fact that the house now belonged to her hadn’t even slowed him down. So, even if she managed, somehow, to get him outside, it probably wouldn’t do her any good to try to bolt the door to keep him out.

  When they reached her room, he strode to the bed and lay her very carefully on the lumpy surface, then stood back and studied her thoughtfully.

  Emily watched him through half closed eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of her purse without moving her head. She couldn’t see it and concentrated instead on trying to remember the position of it.

  She finally remembered that she’d moved it from the bed and set it on the floor after she’d given the cops her identification to look at.

  It was at the foot of the bed, near the leg where she’d poured all of his gold to hide it.

  The bed dipped as he sat down.

  He waved a hand over her face and she realized that he must not be convinced that she was under his power. She considered it frantically, but she simply could not remember that the women in the movies had done anything in particular. They’d only lain perfectly quietly, as if they couldn’t move and they hadn’t seemed frightened.

  He leaned over her, until his mouth was near her ear. "I’m thinkin’ yer fakin’ it, lass."

  Emily tensed fractionally, but she managed to keep her breathing slow and even.

  He sat back, studied her a long moment and finally settled one hand on her breast, squeezing it.

  She came off the bed as if she’d been spring loaded, smacking him squarely on one cheek. "Pervert!"

  To her surprise, he chuckled. Before she could roll off the bed on the opposite side, he launched himself half atop her. Capturing her flailing arms after a pathetically brief battle for dominance, he dragged her back to the center of the bed, manacled her arms to the mattress on either side of her with his hands and used the weight of his body to pin her to the bed.

  Realizing that fighting him was a useless expenditure of energy at the moment, Emily ceased abruptly, glaring up at him.

  He looked amused. "Seein’ as how yer in my bed with me cock tucked between yer thighs, I’m thinkin’ we should introduce ourselves."

  Emily’s eyes widened as she realized he wasn’t joking. There was a hard ridge tucked tightly against her pubic bone.

  His dark brows rose when she merely stared at him speechlessly. "I’m Nigel of clan MacKissack, once Laird of the clan, now no more than the last of my clan."

  Emily swallowed with an effort, fighting the sense of sympathy that swept over her at his words. "How do you know you’re the last?"

  "If I was na’, ye’d na’ be claimin’ ownership of me castle."

  She stared at him, but it was just too much to take in. Her mind was telling her to accept what she saw as real, but it was also telling her it couldn’t possibly be real, that somehow he’d hypnotized her or something to make her think she’d seen something she really hadn’t seen.

  "Ye did na’ give me yer name, lass," he said chidingly.

  "Emily … Hendricks."

  He frowned. "And where d’ye hail from, Emily Hendricks?"

  "Georgia."

  His dark brows rose. "The colony in the Americas?"

  She gaped at him. "It hasn’t been a colony since seventeen...."

  A look of surprise crossed his features. After a moment, he released his grip on her arms and slid off of her, leaving only his leg thrown across her hips to hold her down. Propping his head in one hand, he studied her. "It’s na’ under English rule no more?"

  She shook her head slowly. "We gained our independence. It’s part of the United States of America now."

  "Is that a fact? An’ how did ye manage tha’ when the British Empire is the most powerful in the world?"

  Emily bit her lip. "Actually, I think they just got tired of fighting us."

  He grinned. "If they’re all like you, I’ve na’ a bit of trouble believin’ it."

  Emily felt a blush creep into her cheeks, but she didn’t think it was a compliment.

  His gaze moved from her face and traveled down her body in a leisurely examination. "I’m thinkin’ the world’s changed more than a wee bit since I’ve been … sleeping."

  Emily licked her lips. "You’re … you’re not really a vampire, are you? I mean, you just used some kind of trick to make me think you disappeared and reappeared inside the car--like hypnosis? You don’t … drink people’s blood?"

  His gaze snapped to her face once more, his face hardening with anger. "I’m no bleedin’ savage. Why would ye think I’d be a … bloody cannibal?"

  "But … vampires drink people’s blood, don’t they?"

  "Ye’ve known a lot of vampires, then, have ye?"

  "Uh … no. But
I heard...."

  "Ye heard wrong, or there’s some that’s no more’n savages. I’ve heard tell of such, but I figured it was no more than tales. I’m na’ convinced it ain’t."

  "Then you’re not going to … bite my neck and suck me dry?"

  A wicked smile curled his lips. "I’ll na’ make no promises o’ tha’, Emily Hendricks. In fact, there’s na’ much I’d rather do at the moment than suck every inch of ye."

  Chapter Six

  Heat rushed through Emily at the look in his eyes as much as his words, sucking the breath from her chest and forcing her heart to labor faster.

  "I’d be more than a bit tempted to use me powers to enthrall ye, except fer the wee problem that I can’t seem ta remember the half of the things I once did without even thinkin’ about it," he murmured. "Then again, this could be a lot more interestin’."

  "What?"

  He chuckled, laying a hand lightly on her abdomen and skating it slowly upward until he was cupping one breast in the palm of his big hand. Emily looked at him sharply. He shifted closer until his lips brushed hers. "This," he murmured, melding his lips to hers for a fraction of a second before he parted the fragile barrier of her lips and swept inside, exploring the tender inner flesh with his tongue.

  Emily gasped sharply at the intrusion, sucking in his taste and scent. It curled in her belly like potent liquor, rushing through her bloodstream to her head and creating a wave of weakness and dizziness. She lifted her hand, placing it on his hard shoulder. Inside her, a war waged, the desire to pull him closer, to enjoy the sensations he was creating inside of her just a few moments longer, and the more rational urge to push him away swaying back and forth, each striving for dominance.

  Finally, she pushed at his shoulder lightly.

  To her disappointment, he released her at once and drew back.

  "We’ve a bit of coil here, Emily Hendricks."

  "We do?"

  "Aye, we do. Yer sayin’ ye bought me castle and ye own it fair and square. I’m sayin’ I built the castle and I’ve a prior claim. Ye’ve hid me gold from me, an’ me with no notion of what it might take ta get me money from the bank, or even if the bank’s still there after two and a half centuries.