Blood Marriage (37 page)

Nicholas tossed a stake in the incredulous detective's direction. Fielding, his mouth hanging open at his runner's defection, didn't even try to catch it. It thudded in the dust at his feet. Elizabeth bent over and picked it up. She held it out to the detective.

"Dead bodies don't walk away by themselves," she said. "Katie didn't lie when she said my mother's killer drifted in through a second story window. And a normal man didn't drain the blood from the bodies of all those victims. Not the ones in London and not the ones here." 

She took Fielding's hand in hers, turning his palm up, pressing the stake into it. "It's a long, dark road back to Heaven's Edge."

There was silence. The detective's gaze traveled over the faces of all those present, lingering a long time on the firm set of Lennie's jaw before moving on. Suddenly Fielding's eyes went round. The stake resting on his open palm teetered but didn't fall. Elizabeth glanced back over her shoulder in time to see Bergen's lips close over sharp feral teeth. A single violent shiver ran through her body, raising goose bumps on her flesh and leaving her suddenly cold. The doctor tilted his head apologetically to one side and when he smiled at her, his teeth were normal once more. 

Eyes still round, Fielding looked up at the moon-bathed roof of the castle, then back at the empty funeral pyre. Slowly the detective's hand closed around the wooden stake.

"Go with, Lennie. Warn the villagers," Nicholas said to the detective.

"No. I'm staying with you, Lord Devlin. I'm not yet convinced of your innocence. I want to see this thing for myself."

"Stay with us and you'll probably die," Nicholas's words were matter of fact.

"If I don't stay with you, you'll likely hang," Fielding countered. "I need unquestionable proof. I need to arrest the murderer. Or see justice done. Proof. That is what will keep you off the gallows, Lord Devlin."

Bergen produced a folded white handkerchief from his pocket. 

"I've no paper, but this should do nicely. Something to scrawl your testimony of Nick's innocence on before you, uh, leave us." The doctor snapped open the pristine square of linen with a single flick of his wrist. "Sadly we've no ink, but never mind. There'll be sufficient blood."

Detective Fielding's normally florid face paled, but he straightened his back and raised his double chin. Elizabeth couldn't help being impressed with the man's determination and courage.

"Are we going to find Mrs. Smith or stand here talking all night?" the lawman asked. 

"Mrs. Smith is gone," Vlad said. "What you'll be looking for isn't Amelia Smith." The priest looked significantly at Bergen. "And never will be again." 

He picked up a large burlap sack and pushed the book he'd been carrying into it. Then he retrieved a bottle from somewhere in his robes, adding it to the sack as well. The hilt of a sword protruded from the bag's top, its shiny silver and gold detailing bright against the brown fabric. Memories of the glint of moonlight on steel and a corpse's severed arm flashed through Elizabeth's mind. 

"Elizabeth." Nicholas moved to stand before her. His open palms rubbed gently up and down her arms as if trying to warm her. Elizabeth forced herself not to flinch from his touch, but rather to look him in the eyes. The longing she saw there startled her almost as much as the corresponding longing she felt within herself. Instinctively, she let her head tilt back, her lips part slightly. He lowered his head and his lips hovered close to hers. He was waiting, waiting for her to come to him. The urge to rise up on her toes and press her mouth to his was strong, but something inside her remained fearful, unsure. Nicholas lifted his head and released her arms, the passion and vulnerability she'd glimpsed gone. His handsome face was guarded, his heart shuttered. 

"Go with Father Vlad, Elizabeth. Stay with him. A
diavol
will avoid a priest if it can, particularly one it knows has the knowledge and the will to send it back to Hell."

"Where will you be?" Elizabeth already regretted the missed kiss, the lost opportunity to touch him. What was wrong with her? Her heart yearned to believe in this man, to trust and accept him, to love him just as he was: vampire. But her mind was in chaos, reeling with the events of the last few days until she could make sense of none of it. Weddings, funerals, accusations, murders, grave robbing, demons...and two sets of puncture wounds on her body where none should be. Good sense warned her to be careful. But her heart wasn't listening. 

"Where will you be?" she asked again. 

"Nick and I are going hunting, aren't we Nick?" Bergen's tone was almost jolly. Yet the pain in his eyes seemed to echo her own. The doctor touched one long elegant finger to the sharp tip of the stake he held. "Too bad about these not working permanently."

"I'm sorry, Sebastian." Nicholas retrieved a long coil of rope from the ground. "We've waited too long already. This has to end." 

He handed the rope to Vlad and it followed the book and bottle into the burlap bag. 

Her mother's hands and feet had been bound with rope. It hadn't been enough. Bergen had said the demon that possessed her mother's body was still weak, easy to kill. But how dangerous was the
diavol varcolac
the men spoke of? It had already killed many times. 

A different sort of fear griped Elizabeth. Not fear of Nicholas, but for him. On impulse, she lifted her oil soaked skirt with both hands and darted the few steps to where he stood speaking to Vlad. Rising on her toes, she kissed his cheek. A blush warmed her face. It was such a childish gesture, so inappropriate to the horror and danger of the night. Bewildered by her own behavior, she turned on her heel to flee. She barely made it a half step.

Nicholas stopped speaking mid-sentence. In one smooth motion he spun her around and into his arms. His lips came down on hers, the rough passion of his kiss sending desire ringing through her, yet at the same time calming and comforting her with its decisive masculine power. 

She was safe in his arms. 

In that moment she no longer saw the vampire who'd held her down, ignored her pleas, pierced her flesh. This was the man who'd patiently wooed her, then made passionate love to her in an enchanted castle. Her mind was still in chaos, but her heart was settled. For better or worse, she loved Nicholas Devlin. And nothing else mattered. 

Elizabeth let go of her skirts and lifted her arms to encircle her husband's neck. She pressed her body to his and kissed him back. The growl that sounded low in his throat sent a little pulse of womanly satisfaction through her. His kiss became deeper, more possessive and she surrendered herself to him. When he finally released her, he was smiling. She lowered her eyes, feeling unaccountably shy and more than a little embarrassed at the discreetly turned backs of the men around her. 

"Be careful," she said, backing away from him. He looked as if he might pull her back into his arms, but the sound of her voice seemed to have stirred the other men to action and the moment was gone.

Vlad's expression was almost light-hearted as he handed the burlap bag to Lennie and took the torch. He started to hook arms with Elizabeth, but she bunched her skirt in her hands and shied away. Understanding immediately, the priest returned the torch to the runner, then offered her his arm again. She placed her hand on his sleeve and he patted it in a fatherly manner.

"Come, child. We will see Lennie safely to the village. Then you and I will talk. You've waited too long for
mea fiu
to tell you all he should have."

"Vlad!" Nicholas sounded alarmed. But Vlad was already leading her away.

"Did you ride or walk?" Vlad asked Lennie.

"Walked."

"Then you will share the trap and pony with us. It will be close, but we will manage well enough."

"Vlad!" Nicholas yelled. They'd reached the side of the castle. Vlad turned back.

"She's my wife, Vlad. I should be the one." The plea in Nicholas's voice surprised Elizabeth. Was he afraid Vlad would tell her something that would destroy the peace they'd made? She would rather hear the truth from her husband. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Vlad she would wait. She pressed her lips together.

The priest was right. She'd waited long enough. 

"Then I'll leave the most important part to you,
mea fiu
. But it is past time for some truth." The priest waved a dismissive hand. "Now go. Find Amelia's body before we have more than one
diavol varcolac
to deal with." 

The pony and trap were where they had been the night before, tied to the same tree. Elizabeth didn't even glance at the mossy patch of ground beneath the nearby oak. It no longer had the power to hurt her. She climbed into the little cart with the priest.

Vlad took the torch from Lennie and fit it securely into a holder, then sat on one end of the narrow wooden plank that formed the trap's seat and took the reins in his hands. Elizabeth seated herself beside him, but facing the back of the cart, her skirts well away from the burning torch. Lennie climbed into the back of the cart and pushed the burlap sack containing sword, book and bottle beneath the plank seat. Then he stood in the small bit of space remaining; one hand on the side of the cart, a stake clutched in the other. 

Vlad clucked his tongue at Princess and they set off into the forest. It seemed a rougher ride than it had last night. Then she'd sat in terrified shock on Nicholas's lap, wrapped in his arms. Tonight, just as it had last night, fear rode in the little cart with her. But this time it was not the fear of her husband, but for him. In the courtyard at Maidenstone, Nicholas had said the demon vampire wouldn't kill him. Elizabeth prayed that was true.

With Lennie standing guard at the back of the cart and Father Vlad driving it with a confidence and tranquility Elizabeth found hard to understand given the circumstances, they made it to the village without incident. Father Vlad guided the pony past the village graveyard and church, bringing the trap to a stop in front of a pretty two-story cottage with a riot of spring flowers growing in clay pots on either side of its front door. Elizabeth remembered the house. The vicar's young wife had pointed it out to her when they'd come out of the church after her mother's funeral. Her eyes had been full of kindness and sympathy when she'd invited Elizabeth to visit sometime soon.

The windows of the vicarage were dark. Its occupants had probably gone to bed hours ago. Elizabeth waited alone in the cart while the men banged on the door. It took some time to rouse the house, but finally a sleepy vicar opened the door. His wife, a candle held high and her head covered in a flannel nightcap, peered out at the men from behind her husband. Elizabeth heard Vlad say her name and the vicar's wife started forward as if she intended to come out to speak to her. The men blocked her way. The security of four solid walls and the comfort of another woman's presence were so appealing that Elizabeth was tempted to leave the cart and go to the woman. But a handful of loyal servants still remained at Heaven's Edge. As Nicholas's wife warning them of the danger and ensuring their safety was as much her responsibility as it was Vlad's. And even if that were not the case, deserting the old priest, sending him back through the forest alone, was something she wouldn't do. 

Vlad and Lennie were speaking in low rapid tones with the vicar. Elizabeth couldn't hear what they were saying, but it didn't matter. She was busy watching the deserted streets, dark doorways, and murky alleys between the buildings around her, and trying to fight the feeling that something out there watched back. Whatever Vlad and Lennie said to the vicar spurred action. His wife disappeared into the house and the shutters of one window after another closed, their locks snapping in place. Bang and click, close and lock, the sounds ominous in the otherwise quiet street.

Vlad shook hands with the vicar and Lennie went into the cottage. With a final furtive look up and down the street, the vicar's wife closed the door behind the runner, scraping the bolt into place. There was such finality to that sound, foreboding slithered up Elizabeth's spine. Father Vlad returned to the cart, clucked at Princess and they headed away from the village. Back into the darkness of the forest.

Chapter Forty-One

An owl hooted off to the right, the sound so close Elizabeth expected to see large yellow eyes peering out at her from the woods. But there were only the still trunks of the trees and the softly rustling movement of their leaves in the night breeze. The sturdy little pony plodded along as calm and serene as her master. From her seat facing the back of the cart, Elizabeth watched the trail wind away behind them and wondered how many nights the little horse and priest had traveled this dark forest path, and to what purpose. Often would be her guess, since both seemed completely relaxed and in no particular hurry. Elizabeth wished she could share their tranquility. 

They'd left the village some time ago and had been traveling in a companionable silence. Vlad's apparent lack of concern at being out in the open alone at night had calmed Elizabeth's fears for her own safety, but she was worried about Nicholas. Had he found the demon vampire yet? Was he locked in a fight for his life? She wished she'd stayed with him. Facing danger by his side would be preferable to battling the images she couldn't stop creating in her mind.

The owl hooted again, the sound further away. 

"Will the villagers be safe?" Elizabeth didn't expect the clergyman to have an answer, but needed the distraction of conversation. She wasn't ready to ask about Nicholas's safety, unsure if she could bear to hear the answer.

"God willing." The priest reached back to pat her hand. "Lennie will do all he can." 

Suddenly the pony shied toward one side of the narrow road. Its head swung from side to side, revealing eyes over-large and wild in the torchlight. It stopped, tossed its mane, and stamped its hooves, silencing the already muted forest with its nervous snorts. 

"What is it, Princess?" Vlad's tone was soothing, almost caressing, but his attention was on the woods.