My Lord Immortality (Page 3)

My Lord Immortality (Immortal Rogues #3)(3)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

It was little wonder he found it difficult to return to his life of being treated as a prisoner. He could not comprehend the danger that suddenly stalked the streets of St. Giles. To him the sudden deaths of the prostitutes were a source of deep sadness, but not a direct threat. His heart was far too tender and without guile to ever consider the notion of someone desiring to harm him.

Once again in command of her nerves, Amelia reached for a cloak that hung by the door and wrapped it tightly about her. There was simply nothing to do but go after William. She certainly could not allow him to wander the streets when there was a madman on the loose.

Ignoring the stones that dug into her bare feet, she stepped into the garden and hurried toward the back gate. The heaviness in the air warned that soon a thick fog would be rolling in, and she grimaced. There were few things more unpleasant than London streets at night.

Wrapping the cloak tighter, she heaved a small sigh. It was not that she regretted leaving her parents’ grand town house in the center of Mayfair. Nor giving up the lavish lifestyle that had been her birthright. Oh, granted she enjoyed frivolous entertainments and the flirtations of handsome dandies as much as the next young maiden, but it was a shallow pleasure when placed next to the happiness of her brother. And after learning of her mother’s determination to have poor William secretly placed in Bedlam, she had known she had to take matters into her own hands.

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 onto 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.