There was no debate; Nicholas took her immediately to his home on the West Coast. The difference in time zones between the Realm and there assured that the sun would be high in the sky, affording them time to deal with Ella’s condition before any might seek them. The shuttered windows protected him and Dunkirk. The home had added magical protections against both Dark and Light that might want to intrude. Depositing her listless form on the bed in his room, he set about gathering the materials he would need to tend her.
Dunkirk stood back calmly watching, “Remove the band, Nicholas.”
Nicholas gazed at him impassively for a second before he resumed sorting the supplies on the mattress next to her. Fumbling with what remained of her outer garments in order to clean the gaping wound in her side, he focused singularly on that task.
Dunkirk shook his head, disbelieving the stubbornness of his friend, “Do you want her to die?” Before Nicholas could answer, the giant snorted his disgust and shadowed away. He refused to continue in the madness, going for the second time in his immortal life to the one place he knew he could find the assistance that was required.
The sun was low over the horizon by the time Nicholas finished tending her. He had stripped Ella to her undergarments and washed her thoroughly, binding the injury at her side and applying topical ointments to her superficial wounds. Her cheeks were bright pink with fever. The only time she had roused was when he had shifted her broken bone to set it.
He had just finished tucking a warm layer of blankets around her and was attempting to get some water past her lips when Dunkirk reappeared. While her appearance was no longer disheveled and blood soaked, he could tell she was still in decline. Her coloring was ashen despite the fever that raged and her breathing was so shallow that her chest barely moved. Night set fully and still the two friends maintained a tense silence with one another while keeping watch over Ella. Dunkirk was in the midst of praying that his intervention would work when he saw an unnatural spark of light through the bedroom windows. It appeared again, bright enough at the gates at the end of the drive that it drew Nicholas’s troubled gaze as well.
Both men went to the window, peering out into the darkening eve, to see the form of Myrrdyn standing on the other side of the cast iron barrier. Nicholas looked at his friend suspiciously and Dunkirk only shrugged, not bothering to deny his part in the Ancient’s appearance, “You go deal with the Sorcerer, I’ll watch the girl.”
Nicholas had a feeling that he had no choice. If he sent Dunkirk, his well-meaning friend would let Myrrdyn in and give him a guided tour of his house. Muttering under his breath, he turned to glance at Ella before taking his leave, “I expected more of you, my friend.”
Dunkirk replied in kind, “And I of you...”
CHAPTER 29
Nicholas shadowed to the gate, impatient and irritated. He knew better than to feel safe in the fact that Myrrdyn had not launched an attack and despite his casual stance, he was ready to shadow away with Ella at the first sign of aggression. His greeting was rich with sarcasm, “I am afraid you got the date wrong, old man. The party was three nights ago.”
Myrrdyn chortled, but it did not warm his glacial stare, “Lorcan did not tell me that he was coming to see you, otherwise I would have insisted on being there. You did a stellar job keeping Ella safe, Vampire. Is it now your intent to let her suffer a slow death?” Nicholas wasn’t the only one versed in sarcasm. Rapping his fingers against the knob of the cane that he leaned on, Myrrdyn sized up his enemy, noting the tight clench of the other’s jaw.
Finally, Myrrdyn broke the silence, “You need to unband her, or she will not heal.” Hoping the Vampire might be off his game enough, he pushed for information, “That is a wicked device that you have…where did you happen to find it?”
Nicholas waved his hand at his foe, he had no time for twenty questions, nor would he put much credence in information from this tricky witch, “It would suit you well if Ella were able to turn me to ash, would it not, Myrrdyn?”
Myrrdyn extended his cane, tapping it along the iron bars of the gate. He took a bit of pleasure in watching Nicholas tense. He was purposefully showing the Dark that the magic protecting his home was ineffective against him. If he had wanted to enter, he could have and would have done so by now. Instead, Myrrdyn stated matter-of-factly, “Actually, that would not suit me at all…but this is not about me. You have been watching Ella since she was a wee lass and we both know that you do not want her dead.”
He did not give Nicholas time to respond. Myrrdyn merely nodded the answer for him and continued on, “And we are in accord on that, Dark one.” Myrrdyn reached into the deep pocket of his robe and pulled out a bag made of dark cloth. Swinging it to and fro, the Ancient queried mildly as though having a conversation with an old friend, “Were you surprised to see the strength in her?”
Only a cold stare and more silence followed. Myrrdyn grunted over the lack of manners in the Dark one and tossed the bag high over the gate. Nicholas snatched it from the air without ever removing his eyes from the witch. Myrrdyn shrugged and continued in his one-sided conversation, “Oh, I suppose you were not, you suspected it all this time. That is the reason that you have watched her, guarded her, even protected her from your very own at times, isn’t it?”
Nicholas’s refusal to engage brought a smile to his aged face. Myrrdyn knew the darkness in Nicholas had begun to erode years ago, when a weeping child had clung so desperately to him, insisting that he not let her go. Enjoying the opportunity for an uninterrupted audience with the Warrior of Dark, Myrrdyn chided the other over his misstep that particular evening, twenty-four years prior, “If you had retrieved her immediately from that well rather than wasting time debating over whether to save her, Ella might not have such fear of the dark.”
Nicholas thought back. Trust the wily Seer to know that he had rescued Ella. She had been nearly three at the time. As luck would have it, he had been in the area to see if she was exhibiting any strong magic yet. The lass had been playing outside, but wandered beyond the protection of her home and had crossed paths with two Darks that had been returning from gathering intel on the Light faction in the area.
Rather than drain the child, which Nicholas would have prevented them from doing, they had made sport of her. The pair dropped her into the recesses of an abandoned well and then pulled her free, over and over. Finally, they left the wailing toddler in the depths of it. He had waited for their departure and then waited longer to see if fear would spark the rise of any magic. He had also seriously debated in those moments whether his purposes would be better served by letting the young witch perish. Even with his blackened soul and hatred of the Light, he had not been able to do it and eventually rescued Ella.
She had clung to him for dear life when he’d shadowed her home. He’d prodded her in the direction of her door three times before she would leave him. Nicholas absently studied the bag in his hand as he thought back. She had been a carrot-topped noisy little squawker and the memory brought a touch of a smile to his lips. It hadn’t been until a few years ago in Chicago that he’d become ensnared by her beauty as a woman, both her spirit and her appearance.
Myrrdyn banged the wood of his cane against the iron again to regain his attention, “Remove the band Nicholas. Get Ella’s vow that she will not use magic against you and she will not. Vows are not given lightly in the Witch breed.” Nicholas’s expression conveyed that he did not believe a mere vow would keep Ella from attempting to end him, so Myrrdyn nodded in affirmation, “She will hold true to her vow, Warrior. Ella would not have attacked Carrowmere if she had known her beloved Cole and Nicholas were one in the same. Vows are a sacred thing to Ella, as I am sure you already know.”
The remark caused Nicholas to wonder just how much Myrrdyn did know of what had transpired between him and Ella, but before he could question, the other raised his cane once more. This time he was waving it to and fro with his instructions, “We both know the protection you have around this pla
ce will not stop me from entering to retrieve her if I cannot trust you to see to her care. Moving her will not stop me either, as I can track you down with little effort.”
Myrrdyn raised his brows with his order and shook his cane in emphasis. “Get her vow, remove the band, and give her the mixture in those vials.” He used the tip of his cane to reach through the bars and nudge the bag in Nicholas’s hand, “One each day for the next six.” He started to walk away, but looked back, adding almost as an afterthought, “And give her your blood as well, it will assist in the healing.”
His eyes were sparkling, lit with a silver tone of magic when he tossed out the last, “Heed me in this Vampire. I will set a spell on you that will eat your innards over the next century if you allow my daughter to suffer further.”
Even after the elder disappeared, Nicholas was frozen at the gate, dumbfounded. That crazy old Witch had offered him a wave and a wink before he disappeared. Nicholas was reeling over the fact that Myrrdyn had flippantly confirmed his long held suspicions about Ella’s birth and then just left her in his care. He did not have time yet to ponder what Myrrdyn’s game might be, he needed to tend to his witch.
CHAPTER 30
Before Nicholas returned to his bedroom, he mixed the first vial in a small cup with blood from a self-inflicted wound. Entering through the doorway, he carried the cup to the side table and shot Dunkirk a dark look as the other rose from Ella’s bedside, “Myrrdyn? Really Dunkirk, are you mad?”
Dunkirk pointedly ignored him and patted Ella’s hand once last time before he disappeared. Nicholas could have sworn the oversized vampire had been singing softly in Gaelic when he entered the room. His friend’s affection for Ella would have pleased him, had he not been so aggravated at the circumstances he found himself in currently. He was certain his position on the Dark side of the Realm would be done once Rhydach realized that he had custody of Ella and had not surrendered her. Add to that, the most powerful Ancient in the Realm was treating him as though they were pals…and he detested everything that Myrrdyn represented. He felt the overwhelming urge to kick something.
Instead he eased down gently next to Ella. The slight movement of the edge of the bed was enough to bring her discomfort, her moan indicative of it. Nicholas stroked his hand soothingly down her cheek and saw her lashes flutter. Repeating the touch, he whispered, “Ella, look at me.” She shifted and that brought a wincing cry from her. He leaned closer in concern, “Come on, you beautiful little witch, look at me.”
He had her response before she raised her lids, “If I believed you could catch this infection and die, I would tell you to bite me, Leech.” Her words were raspy, but there was no small amount of venom in them. In addition to the fever, her eyes were glazed with hatred when they lifted to his, “The next time you want to torture me, try to find the balls to do it yourself.”
Nicholas blanched, guilt spearing him. Stroking his hands through her hair, remorse edged his words, “I did not sanction your torture or that false interrogation, Ella. If I want answers from you, I have much more delightful methods by which to get them.”
She attempted to pull away from his touch, but it brought more pain, so she stilled, “Liar…you lie as easily as you breathe. Every moment you ever shared with me was a sham.”
Nicholas shook his head in denial and held her face so she could not turn from him, “No, Ella, I never lied to you. I give you this truth now - Cordelia will suffer slowly before I rip out her throat for daring to touch you.”
Her voice dripped acid as she ridiculed him, “Really Cole, my knight in shining armor…or are you Nicholas tonight? Our relationship was based on falsehoods; you were not even truthful about your own name!”
He wouldn’t release her so she let him see the detest she had for him in her expression. Nicholas shook his head again, “No no, Ella, I told you to call me Cole and you never asked for information beyond that. What is more important is that you have known from the beginning that I am Dark and that I am a warrior, that I fight against the Light…so tell me, how did I lie to you? Why is what I am so repugnant now? It was not a few months ago.”
She was spitting mad, “Semantics, Vampire. You omitted facts that would be relevant to me – it was deceitful.”
He trailed a finger down the side of her face and then her neck, swirling over his mark there. His voice turned seductive, “A few of my friends do call me Cole. I thought we were friends, Princess…very good friends. Perhaps I just need to remind you how friendly we were?”
The strength it would have taken to bat his hand away was beyond her, so she endured his teasing strokes. The full measure of her animosity came through clearly however, “Piss off, Ass Clown.”
He laughed, sitting up, “You threw me over, Ella, not the other way around.” Nicholas pinned her with the intensity of his gaze, “I only requested that you wait for me. Was that too much to ask? Instead you returned to the Realm, made home with my immortal enemy, joined the Elite, and then you ransacked my favorite castle!” By the end of his rant Nicholas was fuming, because he had just reminded himself of all her transgressions. His last question was harshly given, “Really dear, who is the injured party?”
Ella refused to allow his words to make her feel any part in the rift that now was between them. Her voice rose a few octaves, which served only to increase the pounding in her temples, “You are not injured – you idiot - you are damaged!”
She was short of breath at the end of her shriek. Nicholas smothered his angst, forcing himself to be mindful of just how sick Ella was. Her health was in a precarious condition and that was his fault. Rather than escalate their argument further, Nicholas needed to lessen the hostility between them. He eased his hand down the flushed skin of her chest, tracing a line above where the blanket rested. His words were meant to coax her out of her pique, “I tended your wounds. You still wear the presents I gave you.” Ella’s mind raced back, remembering the black silk she had donned under her leather breeches. He was pleased to see in her eyes that she knew exactly what he referred to with his banter, “Did you think of my hands on your skin every time you put them on, love?”
“Screw you,” Ella might not be able to turn away from him, but she could certainly shut him out. She did just that by dropping her lids.
His lips at her ear made her tremble involuntarily, “Was that an invitation, lass? Do you just want to give me your vows now, so I can take you up on it?” Her eyes flew open, only to see him dangling the beautiful diamond ring over her, his voice full of certainty, “You still love me, Princess.”
Her entire body screamed in protest when she snatched the chain from him and jerked away, shaking her head. Nicholas could see through the tears that glistened over those emerald eyes that she was succumbing to the fever even as she yelled at him, “I hate you…hate you, hate you, hate you!”
Nicholas knew he was not going to make headway tonight. Ella needed rest and it was good that she was at least venting her anger at him so readily. The toxicity he had seen during her mock battle with those Light vampires might not yet have taken deep root. That pleased him almost as much as when he had stripped her earlier and found the ring. That discovery had released much of his anger towards her.
His voice was firm because he knew she would balk at sympathy, “The band needs to come off so that you will heal, Witch. I require your vow that you will not raise your magic against me.”
She dropped her lids, once more shutting him out, “I would rather die that vow anything to you.”
He drew her up in his arms and he had to steel himself against releasing her when she started to tremble. Nicholas knew she was in tremendous pain from the injury, but he needed her upright to drink the potion. Pressing the glass containing the mixture of blood and medicine to her tightly compressed lips, his tone reflected a harshness he did not actually feel, “You will drink this Ella, or I will knock you unconscious and pour it down your throat. The effect will be the same.”
Her frown fur
rowed her brow and her eyes remained closed, but she did part her lips. The mixture contained blood as well as what tasted of various herbals. While it rankled her to know that he was most likely feeding her the liquid from his own vein, she was parched and decided not to resist for that reason. She also had little doubt that he would do anything that was necessary to get the mixture into her, as he had promised. Ella remained still while he fed her the contents of the cup, and wished she had to strength to pummel him when he tormented her at the end, “So cooperative, good girl.”
Quickly reassessing her condition, Nicholas knew that he was not going to have her conscious for much longer, so he held her tight to him, “Your vow, Princess, no magic.” Her lips were pressed firmly together once more and she stared at him defiantly through barely slit lids. He flashed a bit of fang at her, his eyes flickering, “If I have to I will join you in this bed and have that delightful body of yours so consumed with pleasure that you will vow me anything…everything.” He added the last word meaningfully and he saw panic shift across her features. Even though he knew she’d pass out long before he could accomplish it, he trusted that she was addled enough by the fever not to realize the foolishness of his boast.
That panic he witnessed meant that she thought he was capable of doing it though. It buoyed his spirits and that was reflected somewhat by his softened tone, “Vow to me, Ella, that you will not raise your magic against me again. I need you to live.” She answered with a stiff nod. He could see the loathing in her eyes at being trapped into giving in to him. He leaned down so that his lips brushed hers when he spoke, “The words Ella…I want the words.”
Shifting to move her mouth away from his, her eyes were brimming with tears once again, but were icy. She managed enough strength to say plainly, “I give you my vow not to use my magic against you…” Ella waited until she heard the clasp release and felt the heavy metal lifted from her arm before she finished, “You vile, repulsive, bloodsucking parasitic worm.”
Forsaken (Ancients of Light #1) Page 21
