My Lord Eternity

"You are a beast," she spat out in disgusted tones.

"Perhaps." He moved forward, his countenance cold with determination. "Now, I weary of your attempts to keep me distracted long enough for your rescue. A worthy ploy, but the night is passing. I am certain you understand my desire to be at our destination before dawn."

She barely noted his easy ability to read her pathetic ruse. Instead, she struggled with the implication that he was about to force her away from her home and any hope of salvation.

"What destination?"

His hand reached out to clutch her arm. She gasped as an icy pain flared through her muscles to the very bone.

"You will soon discover."

"No. I... I will scream."

"And what will that accomplish?" Suddenly his face was far too close. His eyes seemed to sear into her very soul. "Lucien will not hear you, and any mortal that happens to rush to your rescue will be swiftly put to death. Do you truly desire another murder upon your hands?"

"They are not upon my hands, they are upon yours," she dared to say.

"It is your decision. Do you come along quietly or do you desire to call for your housekeeper? I would no doubt find her a tasty morsel."

The thought of Meg halted the scream that threatened to rip from her throat. No matter what her terror, she could not risk the innocent woman. Poor Meg had sacrificed enough to stand beside her. Jocelyn would not allow her to be harmed any further.

"I will come."

"I knew I could depend upon you." A thin white hand lifted to lightly stroke her hair, the oddly feverish eyes studying her as if she were a peculiar animal. "Such a remarkable young maiden. I intend to enjoy exploring you."

The caress was a repulsive mockery of Lucien's soft touch, and without even thinking she abruptly turned her head to spit in the vampire's face.

"You are contemptible."

The hand tightened in her hair, forcing her head back until her neck was readily exposed. Her breath caught as she watched the narrow face approach, the moonlight glinting on the fangs that could suddenly be seen. This was it. She possessed no defense for the teeth that were poised to sink deep into her neck.

She sent up a prayer as she prepared for the inevitable death, then, without warning, she was abruptly set free.

The vampire regarded her with a twisted sneer. "Ah, you tempt me to forget the Medallion and slay you here and now. But I have plans for you, my beauty. Plans that I will not allow to be disrupted. Come."

His fingers dug into her arm and she was being roughly hauled toward the shadows.

Suddenly realizing that she was not about to be murdered in her garden, she stumbled forward.

She should no doubt be terrified that her death was not to be a swift, mindless affair. The horrid man had threatened to torture her without mercy. And to kill anyone who attempted to interfere.

But oddly a numb fog had descended within her heart.

She could feel no pain, no terror, and no thought of what was to come.

Instead, the vision of an elegant bronze countenance with tender golden eyes filled her mind.

It was almost as if he were reaching out to offer the strength she so desperately needed.

Warmed by the vision, she kept it firmly in her thoughts as she was roughly hauled into the vampire's arms and then tossed into the dark confines of a carriage. Landing upon her knees, she gritted her teeth.

"Lucien," she softly whispered.

Lucien had known the moment Jocelyn had encountered Amadeus. It had not been a sense of the vampire, but, rather, the maiden's sudden terror that had reached even through the thick mist that surrounded him and pierced his heart.

At first he had struggled mindlessly to free himself from the clutches of the mist wraith. He had to halt Amadeus. He had to save Jocelyn before the desperate traitor could harm her. But even as he had struggled he realized that he was only ensuring that he would never survive long enough to reach her.

With a grim effort he had forced himself to calm his frantic fear. He would not be able to help Jocelyn if he did not survive his encounter with the wraith. Until then he could only hope to calm her fears and send out what strength he could to bolster her courage.

Ignoring the pain that wrenched his body, Lucien forced the image of Jocelyn into his mind.

Then, slowing his rapid breath, he sent his thoughts outward. It took but a moment before he could sense Jocelyn, and he silently called her name.

"Jocelyn."

"Lucien," she whispered, clearly unaware that he was more than a figment of her dazed fear.

"Jocelyn, I am here." He paused for a moment, allowing her time to accept that he was truly able to speak with her. "What has occurred?"

"I... I am with Vicar Fallow. He has forced me into a carriage and we are leaving the city."

Lucien's heart twisted with agony. Even then she was being taken farther from him. Great Nefri, he had to win his way free swiftly if he was to rescue her.

"Has he harmed you?"

"No."

He briefly closed his eyes in relief. "Be strong, my dove. I will come for you."

"Lucien, he said that you are trapped by some spell."

He grimaced, wishing she did not realize he was not already in pursuit of them. The last thing he desired was for her to lose heart at the thought he would fail her.

"I fear so," he grudgingly conceded. "I bumbled into the trap laid for me like the veriest fool."

"Are you injured?"

"Only my pride."

"He said ... he said that it would kill you."

"I am not so easy to be rid of," he swiftly retorted. "As you well know."

Even across the distance he could sense a brief flare of rueful humor at his teasing words.

Then, just as swiftly, that dark fear returned.

"You must take care. Do not do anything ... impulsive."

He smiled wryly. She knew him all too well. "I will be careful. It is you who must be on your guard."

"I will try."

The uncertainty in her voice nearly sent him mad with terror. It was only with an effort that he did not scream out his frustration. Instead, he forced himself to keep himself grimly under

control. Until he could manage to reach her, Jocelyn would be forced to keep herself alive.

"Jocelyn."

"Yes?"

"You must not give him the Medallion. As long as you possess it, he must keep you alive."

There was a long pause, during which Lucien could physically feel the panic she barely held in check.

"I do not believe it will be so simple."

Neither did he. He could not forget the twisted, brutal delight that Amadeus took in killing his victims. He might have once been a genuine scholar, but he long ago lost all reason. His obsessive search for some mythical truth had turned him into a monster. A dangerous monster that had learned any number of unpleasant methods of hurting Jocelyn while still keeping her a breath away from death.

"Just hold on, my dove," he whispered, forcing the ghastly thoughts from his mind. He could not allow himself to be overcome with dread. Not when cold logic was the only thing that would save the both of them. "I am coming for you."

"Please hurry, Lucien."

"I will." Knowing that he must end his contact with Jocelyn and concentrate upon freeing himself, Lucien allowed himself one last moment with the woman who had become a part of his very soul. "Jocelyn, I love you."

"I love you too."

A sharp welcome warmth flared through his frozen heart. He had not destroyed it all. There was hope left.

"Then all will be well."

Twelve

The pain was near unbearable.

Battling to remain conscious, Lucien could feel Jocelyn traveling ever farther away.

He had to escape, he frantically told himself, pressing against the misty tendrils despite the biting wounds the wraith was inflicting. He could not fail. Not on this occasion. Jocelyn depended upon him. And even if it cost him his very soul, he would save her.

It seemed a more likely prospect with every agonizing moment. The wrenching pain was sapping his strength even as the mist fed upon his spirit His movements were slowing as the ruthless chill continued to clutch at his body. And worse, without the dagger he had no means of battling the encroaching darkness.

Then quite unexpectedly there was the sound of loud footsteps upon the stairs.

"Mr. Valin," Meg called in her gruff tone.

"No." The word came out as a faint groan.

"Mr. Valin, have you seen Miss Kingly? I cannot find hide nor hair of her."

"Return to your rooms," he managed to croak. "Do not enter."

"What?" There was an impatient rap upon the door. "Are you in there?"

"Go away," he warned.

"Not until you tell me what has happened to Miss Kingly."

There was a rattle of the doorknob, and Lucien attempted to press his weak form to the wooden panels. He would not have the poor housekeeper made into fodder for the wretched wraith.

His efforts, however, were for naught as the mist sensed the warmth of a living being within his grasp. Lessening its grasp upon Lucien, it began to slip through the cracks in the door.