by Lisa Kessler
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Running off half-cocked isn’t going to help Muriel.”
Neither is sitting in my house like the poor little deaf girl.
She wrote with so much force, her words were carved into the paper. Perhaps a trace of bitterness still dwelled inside her after all. And he seemed to have a knack for drawing it out.
“I did not ask you to wait at home because you can’t hear.”
Her cheeks flushed with color. Her anger should’ve warned him to keep his distance, but the fire in her eyes only lured him closer.
Oh, so I should stay in my house because I’m a female, then? Hearing or no? Would I slow down your search? She rolled her eyes and added, Just go back to your farm. If I can’t find Muriel myself, I’ll call the police. I won’t be needing your help.
This was his chance to walk away, to put this puzzling woman behind him, and focus on finding Benedict. He glanced at the door, but he had no intention of walking out. He should. But when had what he should do ever mattered to him?
Colin smirked and met her dark eyes. “Forgive me. I did not mean to light a fire under your temper, but I think I can help find your cousin if you allow me the chance.”
He waited her out, aching to peer into her mind. She released an annoyed sigh. Darby said there was a man here, flirting with Muriel, and while he was in the toilet, they left. She paused, meeting his gaze. Muriel would never leave the Pony while she had customers. Something is wrong.
Dammit. He didn’t want his instinct to have been right. He turned to the older man at the bar. “Can you tell me what the gent looked like?”
“Sure.” He nodded, his gaze distant. “He was tall, ’bout your height. Black hair, dark eyes. Handsome fella. Maybe walked outta one of those fancy magazines. Had clean hands like he never worked an honest day in his life.”
Colin glanced at Bartley, nodding slightly. He focused on Darby again. “Did this man have a drink while he was here?”
“He had a Guinness at that table over there.” He tossed his head to the right.
A single glass remained on the table. Colin approached, careful not to touch it. If the police were going to be involved, he didn’t want his fingerprints on the glass. He leaned down, closing his eyes as he inhaled slowly. The rich scent of the stout assaulted his preternatural senses. Patiently, he took one more breath.
And caught the salty smell of the ocean and fainter still, blood.
He straightened, his pulse racing. If he had dealt with the water horse already, none of this would’ve happened. This was his responsibility. He rotated his left shoulder. Doubt lingered at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him.
Colin spun around, his eyes meeting Juliana’s. “Call the police. They can dust the glass for fingerprints and check the liquid for drugs.”
She frowned. You think he drugged her and carried her out?
The sick bastard wouldn’t need drugs. The hypnotic tone of his voice would be enough to lure Muriel out of her pub without locking up. But he couldn’t tell Juliana that.
Colin shrugged. “It is worth checking.” He stepped close to Bartley, keeping his face turned away from Juliana. “Stay with her and keep her safe. I need to hunt.”
Bartley leaned in closer. “Is it…?”
Colin nodded and focused on Darby again. “I’m afraid we need to close the pub early tonight.”
Darby grabbed his hat from the stool next to him and stood up. “Understood. If there’s anythin’ I can do to help…”
“We’ll let you know. The police might want the guy’s description again.”
Juliana approached, words already written on her notepad. Thanks for watching the till, Darby. When Muriel gets back, she owes you a drink.
He chuckled and swiped the air with his hand. “No bother.” He gave Juliana a gentle hug. “They’ll find your cousin.”
Colin waited for her eyes to meet his before he spoke again. “I am going to check the other pubs to find out if anyone has seen her. Bartley will stay with you and wait for the police.” He glanced at Claire. “Can I walk you to your car?”
Claire gave him a knowing look. Her go-get-’em look. “Yes, thank ye.”
He tipped his head. As she came around the bar, he turned his attention back to Juliana. Her determined stance reassured him. She was a fighter, heart and soul. He didn’t need to peer into her mind to see it. “I’ll meet up with you before sunrise.”
He stepped closer to her, the floral scent of her skin enticing him. She tipped her chin up, staring into his eyes, as his finger tenderly traced her jawline. He had to touch her soft, warm skin. This woman had been through enough already. Losing her cousin would surely break her. He needed to protect his territory, but now it was personal. He had to protect Juliana. And right now, that meant finding Muriel. He could not fail.
Leaning closer, he whispered, “Please be safe.”
Her lips parted, tempting him to bridge the distance between them. Before he could act, she rose on her toes and her lips tenderly brushed his, setting fire to his ancient soul. She lowered, breaking the kiss, her lashes fluttering up as she stared at him.
Her rose-colored lips mouthed the words Thank you. Finally she slid her notepad off the bar. See that you come back soon.
The corner of his mouth tugged into a lopsided smile, forgetting any previous hesitation about confronting Benedict. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “Be careful.”
Juliana watched the door close behind Colin, her emotions jumbling together. Her lips still tingled from kissing him. The bold move was uncharacteristic for her, but the impulse had been undeniable. Worry for her cousin, the flare of her temper, and his tender touch all blended into a passionate whirlwind. The allure of touching him had been too much for her.
And then she let him walk out without warning him about the banshee in her dream. She’d seen his face and heard the omen of death, and now this? Would he have even believed her? Half the time she wasn’t sure she believed herself.
Maybe she’d misinterpreted the vision. She reached for her pendant, and her fingers traced its three points. Benedict’s face had also appeared in the dream, she remembered. Maybe he was the one in danger, and this was merely a coincidence. A drop of relief washed over her at the thought, followed by a wave of guilt. She didn’t know Benedict as well as Colin, but she didn’t wish him ill.
Bartley stepped in her line of vision, interrupting her thoughts. “The police are on their way.”
Colin watched Claire drive away, resisting the urge to go back inside the pub to check on Juliana. Muriel was in danger, and it was his fault. He should have tracked Benedict the moment he’d returned. His insecurity over his arm, and his irrational interest in Juliana, had distracted him from his responsibility, and now an innocent was missing.
And if Muriel had vanished with Benedict, it might already be too late to save her.
He opened his mind while he walked toward the coast, welcoming the onslaught of thoughts from the mortals nearby. His head throbbed. Lowering his mental shields so completely put all his senses on overload, but he needed information. If just one mortal had seen Muriel and Benedict, it could help him locate them now.
As he neared the warehouses by the docks, he stopped and slowly turned. A homeless man was huddled against the corner of the building, his legs pulled up inside his jacket. Colin approached him. “You saw a dark-haired man come by with a woman with curly blond hair?”
He glanced up. “Seen plenty of guys with blond women.”
Colin pulled a bill from his pocket and placed it in the homeless man’s cup. “You saw one tonight, a little while ago. I need to know which way he took her.”
The man retrieved the money from his cup, stuffing it into the pocket of his coat. “There was a man. Kept cooing to the lady on his arm. She didn’t talk, just walked.” He pointed down the street toward the water. “Went that way.”
“Thank you.”
Col
in jogged until he was out of sight, then he used his preternatural speed, reaching the cliff in seconds. He scanned the water’s edge for any sign of Benedict and Muriel. Movement to his left caught his attention just before Benedict rammed into him like a freight train. Colin hit the ground hard with Benedict landing on top of him, grimacing.
“You shouldn’t have come back, outlander.”
Colin twisted his legs and rolled, pinning Benedict’s shoulders to the ground with his knees. Glaring at the water horse he growled, “Where is Muriel?”
Benedict laughed. “Was that her name?”
Colin landed a solid punch on Benedict’s face with his right hand. Blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth, the scent awakening Colin’s thirst. Benedict jerked free and scrambled to his feet, wiping at the blood.
“I will not go back to the shadows. This is my land, Night Walker. I am reclaiming it.”
“This land belongs its people, the humans, not to you or me,” Colin countered, circling him. “I will protect those in my care.”
Benedict spat blood on the ground. “They’re cattle, born to feed the immortals. Nothing more. You think any one of those tasty sheep would care if something happened to you? Would they protect you? No.”
Colin ignored the taunts, concentrating on Benedict’s body language, watching for his next move. When he’d battled Benedict in centuries past, he’d attacked the aughisky from the air, inflicting damage without being forced to take any.
But shifting his form and flying was no longer an option. He needed a new plan.
“And what is your purpose water horse? Are you simply out to pasture to eat? Is that all there is for you?”
His verbal jab found its mark, and Benedict’s nostrils flared. “I am the master of this land. It was created for me. I will come and go and feed as I please. No outlander has power over me. Not anymore.”
Benedict rushed Colin, but he stepped to the right, shoving Benedict as he passed by. The aughisky stumbled to the ground, cursing under his breath. Colin used his Night Walker speed, hauling Benedict to his feet. Colin’s eyes burned, no doubt glowing crimson.
“The only reason I haven’t emptied the filthy blood from your veins and tossed the husk of your body back to the ocean that spat you out is because I understood you were part of this land before I ever arrived. Even serpents have a reason for being.” His voice lowered to a feral snarl. “But you will respect the boundaries we agreed to centuries ago, or I will finish you, Benedict. This is not negotiable.”
Benedict jerked away, breaking free of Colin’s grasp. He tilted his head, his teeth red with blood. “You surprise me. Standing and facing me toe-to-toe is not your style. Why aren’t you circlin’ high above me?”
Colin’s gut twisted, but he buried his reaction. “No reason to fly. You are only alive because I choose it. And I am rethinking that decision with every second that Muriel is missing.”
He rolled his eyes. “Why bother to learn their names?” He stepped closer. “Besides, she’s not missing. She’s dead.”
Colin lunged at Benedict, eager to wipe the satisfied grin from his face. They wrestled on the ground, each landing punches. His weak left arm forced him to attack with his right, shielding his left side. In their previous meetings, Colin’s strength had far overshadowed Benedict’s, but now he found himself struggling to maintain the upper hand. Without allowing his spirit animal to attack from overhead, he wasn’t able to weaken Benedict, bleed his vigor out through deep flesh wounds from his talons.
With each kill, the water horse gained more brute force, filling his muscles with energy. How many had died while Colin had been in the Yucatan battling the Night Demon? Benedict head-butted him, and blood erupted from his nose as Benedict broke away. Colin scrambled to his feet, his immortal blood already working to heal the wound.
Benedict backed toward the edge of the cliff. “I no longer accept any boundaries. Not from you or anyone else. I will keep fighting you, Night Walker, until you leave Ireland or you’re dead. I will let you decide which way.”
He turned and dove. Colin rushed to the edge. Below, Benedict’s body grew, mutating in the air into his true form, a black stallion with red eyes. The horse vanished into the ocean as the dark water welcomed him home. A month ago Colin would’ve flown off the cliff after Benedict, continuing the fight, but now…
He raked a shaky hand through his hair. Benedict was a pompous ass. He had no idea how to end a Night Walker’s life, but he definitely could turn eternity into a living hell. Colin sat down on a rock jutting up from the green grass and stared up at the stars.
He could leave. His brother Kane lived in Paris on a large estate. Kane would allow him to stay there while he planned his next move. Or he could return to the Yucatan.
Shaking his head, he lowered his gaze. No. This was his home now. Was he seriously considering backing away from this fight? Juliana’s music filled his mind. He closed his eyes and saw her face, the flush of determination in her cheeks when she’d told him she didn’t need his help. What if Benedict came for her? Could he live with her blood on his hands, too?
And it was all because of his arm. No longer soaring, his wings—and his spirit—were clipped.
He got up and threw a pebble over the cliff, anger threatening to drown him. Muriel was dead. The only saving grace was that the water horse fed on his victims’ entire bodies. There’d be no remains. As far as Juliana and her family needed to know, Muriel ran off with a handsome man and didn’t want to be found.
Surely that was less painful than knowing she’d been drowned and consumed by and ancient aughisky.
If he remained here, he needed to get past the bitterness and restore his confidence in his ability to protect those in his care. Without it he wasn’t sure he could beat Benedict now that he was at his full strength.
He needed Juliana’s help.
Before it was too late for both of them.
The dark water embraced its son as Benedict plunged deep into the waves. He pumped his legs, agitating the water as he pushed up toward the surface until his mighty head broke through. He scanned the night sky, waiting for the Night Walker’s aerial attack.
He had no idea if a Night Walker could drown, but either way, he had the advantage in the ocean. He allowed the waves to pass him by, keeping himself a healthy distance from the shore. The Night Walker would try to attack in the form of an oversized red-tailed hawk, his talons digging deep, attempting to weaken Benedict through blood loss, but in the deep sea, his body was protected. Unless the Night Walker was willing to discover if his hawk could swim, Benedict would be impossible to target from the air.
But the attack never came. The hawk didn’t even fly past to survey the situation.
After an hour had passed, Benedict swam for the beach. The horse trotted up the sand, shaking the seawater from his coat. Energy electrified the air, tiny shots of lightning arcing through the night. The black stallion reared on his hind legs, raising his front hooves as he shifted back into a man.
Benedict stood tall, naked, and pissed. He’d taken his true form on the way down from the cliff, ruining his clothes as he went. A nuisance he barely cared about at the time, his mind occupied with questions.
Why hadn’t the Night Walker shifted? In all of their battles over the past thousand years, Colin had never hesitated to take flight. The aerial attack gave him an advantage.
But tonight he hadn’t taken it. Benedict baited him, hunted and fed in his territory, and yet he remained unscathed. A twisted smile exposed the true nature hidden behind the mask of his handsome features. Something had happened to his adversary while he’d been away. Perhaps he was injured or lost his ability to shift.
Not that it mattered.
This was the opportunity Benedict had dreamed of and waited lifetimes to be given. He would make the most of it. And by the time he tortured and killed everything the Night Walker cared about, Colin would be begging for death.
Juliana sat
in her cottage reading, although she was pretty sure she’d never be able to remember what she’d just read. Her mind was elsewhere. The police had taken fingerprints and a sample of the Guinness. They’d also mentioned, more than once, that while it did seem odd that Muriel left her pub unattended, adults vanished on their own every day. Maybe she’d wanted a change of pace or met a man on the Internet. It happened all the time apparently.
She caught herself hoping that was what happened, but she still didn’t believe it. Muriel wasn’t flighty, and she couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. If she’d fallen for a guy on the Internet, Juliana—and probably every female friend Muriel knew—would’ve known.
And with each hour that slipped by, she worried more and more about Colin, too. She should’ve told him about the dream. Warned him somehow. Even if he decided she was bonkers, at least he’d be safe.
Brian jumped off the back of the sofa and sauntered to the front door. He sat down and stared up at the knob. Juliana set her book aside and followed her cat. Peering through the side window, relief washed through her. Colin.
She released the dead bolt and opened the door. He didn’t smile or even meet her eyes.
“May I come in?”
She nodded and moved back. Colin walked past her and sat on the couch. Did he have bad news? Her chest constricted as she grabbed her pad and pen. She sank onto the sofa beside him.
Did you find—
He took the pen from her fingers. Her gaze lifted to his face, but his lips didn’t move. His expression didn’t soften.
You do not need that pad to talk to me.
His voice was deep and rich, and it reached beyond her ears, filling the void of sound inside her mind. She probably yelped out loud as she sprang up from the couch, tears swamping her eyes. She heard him. Was she dreaming?
Her hands trembled as she mouthed, How?
He sighed, tossing her pen onto the coffee table. A muscle in his cheek tightened, but his lips never moved. I am not like everyone else. I will hear you if you think about speaking to me. It will be faster than passing notes.
