Wrath: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 2 (30 page)

I nodded, unsure what to say.

“All I want from you is the true opportunity to give this a shot. I’m not asking you for your confession of undying love, but do you think you can give me something? I’m ashamed to need the reassurance, but I promised you honesty, and there it is.” He laid his forehead against mine, his eyes closed and the fine lines more pronounced in this moment than in quite a while.

“I want nothing more than to be loved, to have a home, to belong to one person wholly and completely. I thought I had that.”

He flinched and began to pull away. I held tight.

“It apparently wasn’t real, so I’m naturally going to be cautious. But I can tell you this, Hellion. We want the same things, you and I. I’m willing to give this a shot if you are, so long as you don’t push me to commit in any way other than this.” I pulled his head down to me, meeting his lips as I went up on tiptoes. He was reserved at first, and I wondered if I’d blown it. He slowly gave in to my perseverance and I let loose a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

Again, Hellion ended the kiss, pulling back to stare at me intently. “
Tá grá agam duit
, Maddy. I’ll not apologize for feeling as I do, and I won’t expect you to profess the same until you’re ready. But know that I’m here, and I’m waiting, and I will continue to wait so long as you need me to. I want nothing more than your happiness, and I only pray to Odin that you find it with me.”

Impossibly moved, I nodded, looking away. “I appreciate that.”

I saw him look over my shoulder toward the house, and his brows drew together. “What in the world is Mark doing?”

I turned to see the butler, who was also a member of Hellion’s coven, racing down the hill as fast as his legs would carry him. The totally irreverent thought crossed my mind that the Grim Reaper wouldn’t appreciate his message bearer to comport themselves with such haste.

I turned back to Hellion with a sense of impending doom. “Someone else has died.”

Chapter Nineteen

Mark was still shaking, his breathing shallow and too rapid. He’d reached us and delivered news we’d never expected to hear: Amaly was dead.

Hellion had sagged against me, nearly taking us both back to the ground. Only Mark’s quick reflexes had kept the large man from crushing me as he went to his knees. Mark had helped Hellion to the ground and I stroked his hair as he clung to my waist and wept. That man and the vision of rage in front of me now seemed worlds removed in a very short amount of time.

Hellion was a column of barely contained fury. His skin was pale and taut, his irises had expanded again and were pulsing furiously, and his movements were condensed and precise. A faint wind was generating around him without his awareness, blowing his hair about. The fourth time the wind blew his hair into his face he cursed, then retrieved a leather strip and tied his hair back with harsh but controlled motions. Pulling his hair back only revealed more of his savage countenance, and I wasn’t sure it was an improvement for me. He scared me a little bit.

He finally turned to Mark and said simply, “Tell me.”

Mark was sweating and shivering, and I grabbed a small blanket off the back of the sofa as I walked past it, headed for Mark. Reaching him, I dabbed at the sweat running down his temples and then slung the blanket around his shoulders and tucked in the loose edges.

He tried to smile but his face couldn’t make the small motion. Instead his lips twitched and he said, “Thanks.”

I nodded. “Can you tell us what happened? And how did you find out?”

He cleared his throat, and I asked Hellion to pour him a small whiskey. “For medicinal purposes,” I said, encouraging him to accept the glass from Hellion.

He did, and sipped it slowly. The alcohol flushed his cheeks a bit and took the harsh edge off his movements. Of course, my mellowed observation wasn’t at all influenced by the two-finger shot Hellion had handed me that I’d thrown back like a seasoned bar patron.

Mark set his glass down and pulled the blanket closer. “I tried to call Amaly this morning to see if she’d had any luck with the tracers you left her. She didn’t answer.” He began to shake, and I reached over and pressed the glass back into his hand. He took a larger sip, bordering closely on a mouthful, and gasped as the liquid seared his throat and gullet going down. Eyes watering and voice a bit strained, he continued. “When she didn’t answer after the third phone call, I called the London house and asked Stearns to go over and see if there was anything wrong. He said that her front door was open an inch or so, and there were no signs of warding in her area. The second fact dawned on him only after the first fully registered. He called out for her and…” Mark downed the rest of the whiskey as a fortifier and choked, eyes streaming, but he didn’t complain. Hellion approached with the bottle but Mark just shook his head and set his glass to the side. “Anyway, she was on the floor in the living room, her throat cut and, and—” Mark began to cry softly. “There was blond hair scattered around her, sir, as if she’d been trying to use your hair for—”

“Hellion!” I gasped, a horrible possibility dawning on me. “The hair.“ The reality of the death hadn’t hit me because Amaly hadn’t been important to me at all, but Hellion, he was a different story. I looked at him over my shoulder and found him staring at me with something akin to horror on his face.

“We never tested it before we left,” he whispered.

“The killer’s a blond,” I thought aloud. “Blond, with long hair. That narrows it down somewhat.” I stood and paced the length of the room, the gentlemen watching me carve out a path in the enormous room. The only sounds were those of the men’s labored breathing, the soft slap of my feet as they went from carpet to stone and back again, and the rustle of my silk dress moving over my body as I walked.

Blond hair, blond hair…
Most of the dragons I knew were darker haired, browns and auburns and blacks. I didn’t know if I’d ever met a blond dragon.
The dragons were darker…
It meant it couldn’t be Bahlin’s hair. The invisible weight of guilt I’d been carrying since naming him a person of interest partially lifted off my shoulders as I realized that, while this wouldn’t completely absolve him from suspicion, it did remove a certain level of consideration from his person. Of course, I supposed he could have hired someone to do it; he didn’t like to get his hands dirty. And just like that, the guilt’s tonnage settled back over me like a saddled burden.

“I’ll find the killer and petition the Council to be the one to dispense justice,” Hellion growled, watching the play of emotions across my face. Undoubtedly he realized the mental gymnastics I was doing regarding Bahlin. “You’ll not ask me to refrain from vengeance on behalf of Amaly.” It was a question posed as a statement.

“Don’t ask this of me at this point, Hellion. You know I can’t answer you. Not now.” My voice was the firmest in the room, the most rational. If justice came down to the dragon and the wizard, I didn’t know what I’d do. Two men with one holding a little more than half of my heart. How would I choose where my loyalty would lie?
You’d do the right thing, the
honorable
thing, and support justice,
my internal voice said. I shivered at the thought. If one killed the other, whether in cold blood or in an act of Council justice, I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive the one who delivered the killing blow.

Hellion stood watching me for a moment and then he was gone, dematerializing in front of me.

“He’s probably going to Amaly’s flat,” Mark said in a flat, toneless voice. “He’ll make sure there’s nothing for the mundane police to find before placing a call to alert them to the murder.”

My blood chilled in my veins.
Police.
Oh shit. “Mark, did anyone see Stearns come or go from the flat?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice like frost creeping into a cold morning.
Please say no, please say no.
I recognized the exact moment Mark realized what this meant.

If someone had seen the chauffeur in Hellion’s car, it placed him at the scene of the crime. And if the police had already been called and Hellion showed up at the flat, he’d likely be caught there by the police. He was already being considered as a possible suspect after being seen with me at the scene of a crime in the park. And even worse, if he were to be caught
in
the home of a new victim…

I turned and raced for the phone on the desk while Mark began dialing his own cell phone. “Stearns? Mark here. Were you observed entering or exiting Amaly’s place? I’m just wondering. She did? What did you say?” Mark paused to listen to Stearns’s response as I dialed Hellion’s number frantically. One ring, two, three, four: voicemail.
Shit!
I slammed the phone down and took a deep breath. Picking up the receiver, I dialed again, only to meet with the same response.

Mark’s voice had become subdued as I grew more frantic. I heard the snap of his cell phone closing, and I turned to face him. His young face was grim. “The neighbor saw him and attempted to question him extensively. Stearns tried to deflect her, but she was insistent. He’s concerned she may have already called the police.”

I stumbled to the nearest sofa and sank down, letting my head fall back to the cushions and my hands flop to my sides. I needed to reach Hellion. If he had materialized in a roomful of mundanes, he was screwed.

“Mark, Hellion said there were a handful of people who could materialize and dematerialize. Is there anyone else in the coven who can—”

Mark’s cell phone rang. He fumbled it getting it open, but he finally managed. “Hello! Hello!” he nearly shouted. His face paled, and I began imagining the worst-case scenarios. There were some doozies. Mark held the phone out to me without a word, and I took it woodenly.

“Hi,” I said, knowing who would respond.

“Niteclif,” said a garbled voice that was neither male nor female, high nor low in tone or pitch.

“Yeah?” I answered, sitting up and forcing myself into the moment. I needed to take notes. I stood and made my way to the desk.

“Your champion is removed.” The voice chuckled. “And the other fellow you are so desperate over is now a suspect.”
Hellion and Bahlin.

“And?”
I asked, taunting the owner of the voice just a bit. “What do you want? And what do you mean my champion is removed? He’s just fine.” I was certain of it. He hadn’t been gone a half hour yet.

“Think, you fucking imbecile,” the voice spat.

“Hey!” I said, offended. The other line beeped in. Out of habit I looked and saw Hellion’s number. Did I answer it? Not? I didn’t feel like I had a good choice. Without warning, I clicked over and said, “Hellion?”

“Maddy, this will have to be brief. I’ve been arrested and am being taken to the nearest processing facility. I’m not sure where it is. I need you to call Ben and make arrangements for bail. I need you to—”

“Off the phone, lover boy,” came a gravelly voice within a few feet of Hellion. “You can make a phone call once you’re processed and in the gaol. Off the phone, I said. Now.”

“Hellion?” I asked, hating the pleading in my voice. “Hellion?” But the line had gone dead.

I clicked back over and found that the killer was gone too. I’d apparently received the message he wanted me to receive.

Fortunately, Mark had known exactly what Hellion had meant when he said to “call Ben.” Ben Raines was Hellion’s solicitor.
Un
fortunately, he’d not been able to remember contact information off the top of his head, and the firm was an elite, private-list firm that wasn’t advertised since it dealt with the city’s wealthiest patrons. To obtain representation there was apparently like a club membership. But that was all secondary. The first thing I had to do was get back to London. We were about two hours by car, which was how Mark had arrived last night, so I drafted a note for Darius before we headed back as fast as we dared.

Hellion’s townhome seemed silent and empty of all life without the man himself in residence. I went straight to his office, flipping on lights as I went. “Mark? Make sure the wards are still set and do whatever it is you do to strengthen them. I need to get into his checkbook and see if I can find any checks written to Ben and track down the law firm. Can you help me with this?”

“Of course, madam,” he said formally.

“Just Maddy, please.”

“But, madam, with Hellion gone, you’re the head of his household now.”

“What?”

“Just as I said. He’s professed his level of commitment, he’s, ah, taken you to bed, and—”

“I get it, I get it,” I said, blushing like mad and trying to ignore the fact that Mark may have intimate auditory knowledge of my relationship with Hellion.
Yikes
.
Okay, think, Niteclif.
“Does he have any financial software?”

“Yes, and the passwords are kept in the safe. I’ll retrieve them.” He was off, moving quickly and with purpose, his hopeful youthfulness restored by action.

Funny,
I thought
, I consider him ‘youthful’ when he’s probably my age.

I sat at Hellion’s desk and did my best not to panic. The thought of him depending on me to get him out of this mess was daunting. I thumbed through his ledger, astounded at some of the deposit amounts and equally astounded at some of the money the man spent. Then I got to the last line and I blanched. He’d spent an exorbitant sum at a jewelry store. The note on the ledger entry just said “My Love.” I traced the letters he’d written with my fingertip, feeling the slight impression the ballpoint pen had made in the paper. Mark cleared his throat and I snapped back to reality, dropping the ledger closed.