Vampire Darcy's Desire (58 page)

Two more steps and Wickham sprang again. Darcy spun just as the creature leapt, leaving his opponent lying face down among the ashes. Using the sword, he hacked twice at his adversary’s left side, hoping to open further the previous wounds. As Wickham tried to recover, Darcy darted to the coffin, still sitting askew on its base, and with a gargantuan effort tipped it over.The dirt sprawled across the floor in dark streaks of decaying matter, and Wickham crawled to it, scooping it up with his right arm, trying to repair his home. “
No…o…o!
” he screamed as he dumped handfuls back into the opened front.

Hoping now to destroy it all, Darcy poured one of the vials of holy water on the satin as Wickham used his body to protect his grave. Darcy waited, but nothing happened.

Wickham, covered in earth and ashes, looked up with amusement. He rubbed the dampened dirt between his fingers.“It is oil, Darcy.You fool,”Wickham charged.“You poured oil into the dirt.” Triumphantly, Wickham stood, brushing his hand against the side of his pants. “You will pay for this degradation” The ominous words became Wickham’s challenge.

Realizing he needed to retreat before he could attack again, Darcy began to edge along the wall, backing away from the advancing, infuriated Wickham.

“I plan for you to suffer long and hard.” Wickham hissed the words.“You will pray for hell’s relief.”

“What makes you think, Wickham, that I am not already in hell?” As he spoke, Darcy moved slowly in the direction of the burning rows of candles. He knew he carried another vial from the church in his pocket; he said a silent prayer that the second one contained anointing oil, as well. “In fact, hell is right here in this room.” With that, he threw the second vial against the wall; the
glass broke and oil spattered across the fire. Flames leapt and fizzled and began to creep up the dried ivy left strung across what remained of the antlers.The bones of the stag ignited and crumbled. Now, fed by the kindling, the flames moved faster.

Not caring about death,Wickham dove for Darcy’s legs, knocking him to the floor, where they rolled in the dirt again.The beast of a few minutes ago returned, and Wickham bit down on Darcy’s leg, only to find part of his boot. Darcy used his other leg repeatedly to kick relentlessly at Wickham’s face, tearing chunks of skin away from his enemy’s eyelid and cheekbone. Fists landed. Cries of pain split the heated air.Their gazes met and did battle.

Darcy’s assault forced Wickham to release his hold, and uttering a curse, he clambered to his feet. Picking up the sword that Darcy had dropped, he began irrationally swinging the blade in arcing figure eights, slicing at everything in his wake. Darcy scooted backwards in a crablike manner, trying to evade Wickham’s demonic fury.“Hell! Darcy, we are in hell!” he howled, his voice grating.

Reaching the wall closest to the door, Darcy shoved to his feet, sliding his back up the smooth surface. Half the room was now engulfed in flames, but Wickham still railed, screaming of hell and damnation. He caught the tip of the blade on the satin lining of the coffin, pulling part of it free and dragging it through the fire. The material caught the flames, and in his choler, Wickham flung it from him, sending it through the open door to land on the carpet found there.

Out of control,Wickham stalked Darcy, herding him, blocking his every move to flee. Darcy reflexively worked his way sideways along the wall. Heart pounding, he tried to recover from the attack and to judge how to escape the fire and Wickham’s wrath. He shifted his weight several times, but each time Wickham countered with a move of his own.Then it happened:The flames reached the coffin. As the fire spread to the lining, the wood popped and cracked from the heat. Wickham spun around to see the damage, and Darcy took his chance and dove out the door, barely missing the flames now crawling along the carpet runner and skipping up
the wallpaper and tapestries.

Clumsily, Darcy struggled to his feet and broke into a run, heading for the staircase.

“Darcy!” Wickham boomed as he menacingly stepped into the hallway.

Without thinking, Darcy knelt down and jerked hard on the runner, pulling it from under Wickham’s feet and sending his opponent tumbling backwards. Throwing the flaming runner over the banister, Darcy shot a quick glance in Wickham’s direction before taking the steps, bounding over the landing. Hitting the main hallway at a run, he looked around frantically for a weapon, hearing the ominous sound of Wickham’s boots on the upper stairs.The great hall loomed to the right, and Darcy madly ducked into the room, looking for safety, but Wickham followed only a few heartbeats later. “Darcy!” he bellowed.

Finding no immediate escape, Darcy nonchalantly stepped from behind the pile of broken furniture.“I am here,Wickham.”

“So you are.”Wickham’s eyes glowed red in the darkness as he slowly brought the sword to Darcy’s chest. “I expected more from you, Darcy.” He moved the blade in a gesture towards the debris. “Have a seat.”

Darcy warily moved to the ornate offering, the only piece still intact.

“It seems I no longer have my followers.” Wickham looked about the room, feeling anger well up again. “I suppose you had something to do with that.”

“You suppose correctly.” Darcy watched the flames behind Wickham scatter about the entranceway, jumping from item to item.

“Then I will start over.”Wickham pressed the tip of the sword to Darcy’s chest. “In fact, I will leave tonight—your wife has three more sisters, if I recall, and there is always sweet Georgiana.” The words incensed him, but Darcy realized he needed to keep control; he squeezed the arm of the chair in disgust.

He expected Wickham to run him through, but his rival did not. Instead, a strong right caught Darcy’s jaw, shoving it upward
and driving his head into the back of the chair.A momentary blurriness became complete blackness. The last thing that Darcy saw was Wickham closing the door behind him.

 

How long he was out, Darcy did not know, but long enough for the fire to spread, because when he touched the door, the heat told him not to open it. For the second time,Wickham had left him in a burning house. Grabbing the back of a broken chair, Darcy struck the window through which he had spied Wickham that first night. He hit it full force, and it shattered into hundreds of pieces. Using the chair’s leg, he battered away at the shards. Climbing out the window, his eyes fell on a shadowy figure, silhouetted in the moonlight, mounting the hill to the cemetery. “Oh, God, not Elizabeth,” he murmured and took off at a run.

“My God, Damon, look!” Elizabeth stood transfixed by the fiery glow in the sky.“It is the house!”

She was running as hard as she could in the direction of the hill—towards Wickham’s house—towards her husband.With each step, her eyes filled with tears. She could not lose Darcy now.

Damon caught her around the waist just as Elizabeth reached the back of the graveyard. She fought him like a wildcat, kicking and screaming for him to release her.“Let me go!” she pleaded, but the colonel pulled her away from a house now fully consumed in flames. Pungent smoke filled the air, and burning embers showered down on them as they clung to each other and stared at the inferno.

“He got out.”The colonel said the words aloud, trying to convince himself.

Elizabeth shivered and collapsed against him, defeated. As they watched, the walls began to give way, leaving only a shell.

Then they heard it, running steps coming their way.

Elizabeth broke away from Damon’s grasp and, cutting through the barriers they set up to contain those they hunted, she rushed to
the edge of the rise, screaming her husband’s name—expecting to see his face; but when George Wickham appeared in front of her, Elizabeth could only stare.When he pointed the sword at her, she did not move. Then he jabbed her gently with the tip; Elizabeth responded by stepping back gingerly.

The colonel skidded to a halt behind her. Annoyed by the new configuration, Wickham insisted, “Do you care to introduce me, Mrs. Darcy?”

Elizabeth took another step back. “Where is Fitzwilliam?” she demanded.

“What? No manners, Elizabeth?” Wickham amusedly nudged her with the blade again. “I expect the gentleman knows
my
name. After all, he broke into my house twice, and I have no need of his name.”

Damon caught Elizabeth with his left hand and placed her behind him, offering his chest as Wickham’s target. “Answer the lady,Wickham,” the colonel pressed.

Sinisterly, he complied.“I believe I left Darcy in the grand hall.”

Elizabeth caught her breath, and Damon could feel her trembling hand on his back. He reached behind him and caught that hand; he needed for her to move before Wickham charged. He guided her backwards with a tighter-than-usual squeeze of her hand.

Wickham watched the interaction closely. “Does Darcy know how you feel about his wife?”Wickham enjoyed being in control, and this situation played to his conceit. He flicked a finger in the direction of the gravesites, and the colonel stepped back into the arena, but he carefully kept Elizabeth out of Wickham’s way. She now lightly rested her hand on his back and stepped in unison with him.

Seeing the graveyard adorned with the perpendicular markings, Wickham actually laughed. “This was
your
idea, Mrs. Darcy? How very astute of you! I knew you were trouble from the beginning. Truthfully, taming you would have been much more pleasurable than bringing that insipid sister of yours to heel.” Damon knew
when Elizabeth’s ire began to rise.With a slight touch of his hand and a shift of his shoulders, he willed her to hold her tongue. “So there is no one left?”

“No one,” Damon responded.

“Your husband warned me as such, Mrs. Darcy, but I thought he bluffed, though not so well.You are more tenacious than I expected.”

Interrupted by the sound of running feet behind him, Wickham automatically spun to meet the new provocation.

Darcy cleared the rise of the hill, only to once again be at Wickham’s disposal. He caught his breath in a great gulp when he saw his wife and cousin safe, and he forced calm into his body although he faced the tip of a sword. He took Wickham’s attention from Elizabeth, and that was all that mattered.

Seizing the opportunity, Damon caught Elizabeth up and carried her to safety. She began to resist, but a slight shake of Darcy’s head told her to stay, and she let Damon drag her behind a massive memorial.“Stay put,” he warned her and began to circle to the far side of the line of graves.

“Darcy?”Wickham said as he smirked. “We return to where it all began.”

“Where it began for
you,
Wickham,” Darcy countered,“but not for me. My life began only a few months ago when
hope
walked in.”

“Ah, is that not sugary sweet! Did you hear that, Mrs. Darcy?” he called out to Elizabeth. “Your husband speaks of your love.” Using the sword, Wickham herded Darcy in the direction of the cemetery’s center.“You may be right, Darcy. Maybe this is only my personal hell.”

They now stood directly between the two crypts, which anchored the site.“Let me show you something.” Although barely able to move on his left side,Wickham raised his hands and with a quick burst of air, the lock of Ellender D’Arcy’s burial chamber exploded, and the iron gate swung open. “Step next to the gate, Darcy.” Darcy moved slowly, not knowing what to expect. “Do you remember the part of the legend where Lady Ellender gave me to Leána?” Darcy nodded as he took up a position next to the
opening. “The legend says that I then exacted my revenge on the lady.Watch and see.” Then Wickham unveiled the inner door and called out.

As if a supernatural force carried her forward, Lady Ellender D’Arcy appeared in the door of the open vault. “Come, my dear.” Wickham extended his hand, and the lady placed hers in his.

Darcy swallowed hard. Lady Ellender D’Arcy was Georgiana in ten years. Long blonde locks adorned her head; the square chin was softened by the high cheekbones and eyes the color of sapphires.“I brought someone to meet you, Ellender.”Wickham treated the apparition as if she were his lady. “This, my dear, is Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“The last name is familiar, Sir.”The lady curtsied.

Wickham ordered,“Speak to the lady, Darcy.”

“Lady Ellender.”

“Mr. Darcy, Lady Ellender, came from Derbyshire, his family seat, to make your acquaintance.”

“Charmed, Mr. Darcy.” Lady Ellender swayed to the same unknown tune that the others had.

“Is she not beautiful, Darcy?”

“How could I deny it, Wickham? My sister is the spitting image.” Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy noticed Damon moving quietly to the right.

Wickham glanced back at Ellender. “I thought so also. Georgiana is Ellender as a young girl, when I first fell in love with her.”

How gently Wickham treated Ellender surprised Darcy. The man that this creature once was still loved this woman, despite the havoc she had brought to his life.This was a new aspect of Wickham, and Darcy hoped to use it against him.