Legacy: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 1 (4 page)

“Uh, excuse me for a moment.”

He didn’t move.

“Seriously, Bahlin, I want to put on some clothes before we talk about whatever was so important to you that you felt justified in breaking into my room, accosting me, and then digging through my pants.” I turned to the side and squeezed past him; he moved back a small step. I retrieved the clothes I had intended to put on earlier—jeans, navy T-shirt, underwear, socks. I went back into the bathroom and started to shut the door.

“Leave it open,” he said quietly.

“No,” I answered, equally quietly. “I’m closing it. I won’t lock it, because that appears to be a useless means of keeping you the hell out. But I won’t leave the door open. Get your jollies somewhere else, asshat.” I shut the door in his face, and he didn’t stop me.

I dressed in record time standing wedged in the space between the edge of the bathtub and the hinges of the door. I’d chosen to leave my shoes out in the room because I figured if I took them, Bahlin would assume I was going to try to run. Good assumption. While I was in the bathroom I finger-combed my hair but skipped make-up. What was the point?

I walked back into the room and found Bahlin sitting in the desk chair again, leaning with his head back, eyes closed, hands folded across his stomach. He appeared relaxed if you didn’t look too closely, but the tension radiating off of him killed the superficial impression. I sat on the edge of the bed farthest from him and closest to the front door. That he wasn’t forcing the issue about me sitting closer to him was a good thing. It gave me a sense of control of the situation, however false it might be.

“I’m ready to read the notes,” I said softly.

His eyes opened to slits and shifted to look at me. The rest of him stayed very, very still. “They’re here on the desk.” It was an open challenge to get near him again.

“Fold them back up and toss them over here.” I wasn’t about to get within an arm’s reach of him without being forced, so he could toss the papers over.

“Afraid?” he asked, sitting up and looking at me in a predatory way.

“Cautious,” I replied. “I don’t know you, yet you’ve starred in a dream of mine, then you’ve shown up here and basically assaulted me. So yeah, consider me cautious.”

“Why not try for the door then, sweetheart?” he asked in a snarky tone.

“I have a feeling you’d do some freaky telekinesis crap, and I’d be stuck anyway.”

“Smart girl.” He folded the papers up and, standing, leaned over a part of the bed. I stood and moved away from him, taking a couple of steps toward the door. But all he did was toss the papers toward me and sit back down.

I edged to the bed in small steps, watching him like a field mouse watches a predator circling the sky overhead. But he only sat and settled in the chair, waiting, it seemed, for me to open the two notes.

“Open mine first,” he ordered, and I looked at him. “Please. It’s the one with the wax seal.”

I picked up the note, lifting it in unspoken question. He nodded and I broke the seal, opening the note. Written inside the heavy paper, in flowing script was the following message:

In the lobby

7:00 p.m.

I looked up at him and couldn’t help but smile.

“You expected me to take this seriously? This is stalker material, and I haven’t been here long enough to be stalked. Or to know anyone that would inspire me to respond by showing up.” I snorted, dropping the note on the bed.

Bahlin stood up and growled, literally
growled
, from deep in his chest. “You do not get to mock me for trying to make this easier, nay
safer
for you. I made a promise, and I’ll keep it.”

“What promise, Bahlin? We don’t know each other, you are completely unfamiliar to me, and no one knows me here, so there’s no promise you could have kept.”

“Read the other damned piece of paper and we’ll discuss it.” He dropped back into his chair with amazing, unnatural grace for a man of his size.

The hair on the back of my neck began to stand up and the skin underneath got hot. I suddenly didn’t want to open the other piece of paper, but I’ve never been a coward (see above regarding the strange man with the aching balls in my room). I reached across to pick it up and open it. I must have been too tired yesterday to notice that my name was on the outside in small, neat print. I began to unfold the sheet of paper and time slowed to a crawl. I could see everything in slow motion, even Bahlin standing up from the chair as he moved minutely closer to me. Inside was a family tree, drawn carefully and in great detail, with the Niteclif name at the top. I looked at the tree, beginning with the bottom, but most of the names flashed by my eyes without meaning until I came to my name nearest the top, and all by itself, on a defined limb.
“Madeleine Dilys Niteclif”
was written in, with my date of birth and an open-ended date for death. I raised my eyes and looked at Bahlin, the question evident in my gaze.

“Look three generation down, and read carefully as you go,” he said softly, almost with compassion. Strange.

I saw the names of my parents. Then I saw my grandparents’ names, no surprise. Then I saw my great-grandparents’ names. There was no surprise here, either, since my mom had been an amateur genealogist. Then I looked closely at my great-grandfather’s name: Aloysius S. Niteclif, more famously known as…
What the hell?
Sherlock Holmes. Wait. Was he telling me my great-granddad was a famous 19th century fictional detective, not a real person? Why was he on my family tree? I knew Aloysius Niteclif as my great-grandfather, but no way was he some fictional icon. That was so far off the crazy scale that it had come back around to probable. No way was this even remotely—

Bahlin interrupted my internal ramblings, my thoughts scattering without pattern or reason. “Aloysius Niteclif was a great man, a great detective, in our world. But he became disillusioned with the constant battles, the killings, and he wanted out. So he met a mundane man that he liked and respected, and they struck a deal. This mundane man was an author, and he would write Aloysius’s memoirs as if they were fictional tales with human characters and human mysteries. In return, Aloysius would give him a peek into the world of the supernatural. It worked well. Three men ended up immortalized, and Aloysius was able to purge his conscience without fear of recrimination.” He paused to look at me. “Do you understand what this means?”

I was sitting there, the family tree hanging from my fingertips.
Did I understand?
Of course I did. Bahlin was a certifiable nut bunny. Oh good. How was I going to get out of here without—

“Maddy? Your middle name. What does it mean?” he asked, speaking slowly like he was trying to talk me off a ledge.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, looking at the family tree and seeing nothing but
that
name.

“In Welsh it means genuine and your last name, Niteclif, is a Welsh derivative of detective. It’s a play on words. You are, quite literally, a genuine detective.” He paused searching my face for reaction. “I’ll ask again. Do you understand?”

“Understand?” I looked up at him. The family tree drifted from my fingers to the floor.
Let him down gently
,
I thought to myself, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Understand what, Bahlin? That you’re off your medications? That the men from your cinder block institution are looking for you?
That
I understand. This—” I waved my hand at the fallen family tree, “—this is nonsense. I cannot be related to a fictional character—”

“Whose stories were based on the real life of your great-grandfather.”

I got up and began pacing the small area from the bed to the front door, nine strides forward and nine strides back. I never considered I could just leave once I reached the door. I was overwhelmed with this information, hungry for any sense of belonging now that my parents were dead. My parents… I spun to face Bahlin. “Did my mom and dad know?”

“Your father knew, as you’re a direct descendant on his side. I spoke to him shortly before his death about disclosing your relation to Aloysius and its implications for your future. Your mother, as a genealogist, suspected something was off kilter in your history. But your father said they had never discussed it.”

“There wasn’t time,” I whispered. No time before they died. My heart ached. I missed them so much. And I wanted to talk to my dad now, to find out if this unknown man’s wild claims held even a grain of truth. I was so hungry for family that a small part of me hoped he was being truthful. He claimed he was a connection to a past I thought I had lost, someone who could share the sound of my father’s voice with me.

Bahlin stood and walked slowly toward me, treating me like a skittish horse, hands out to show he was harmless, movements slow and precise, eye contact steady but non-threatening. I stopped, staring at him.

“Maddy?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

I held up a hand toward him, palm out and fingers pointed up in the universal sign for stop, and he did. “No, I’m not okay. This is cruel. You’re not well, Bahlin—” I began, but he interrupted me. Again.

“Maddy, this is all true. I swear it.”

“Stop. Interrupting. Me.”

“I apologize. Go on with your previous thought,” Bahlin said, shoving his hands in his front pockets. He looked contrite. Apparently he was going to let me work this out on my own. He sat on the edge of the bed nearest my current position, which was standing close to the bathroom door.

I rolled my shoulders, then returned my thoughts to the family tree. “If I’m a direct descendant of a fictional character—albeit one whose stories were based on fact—what does that make
me
?”

“Maddy, what have you done since you came here?” Bahlin’s eyes burned with curiosity. He shifted on the bed, drawing one knee up so he could turn to face me.

“I’ve rented a car, driven to Stonehenge… Stonehenge. I made a wish, a wish that my reality would be altered…” Surely not. I mean, seriously, I made a
wish
as in star light, star bright, that kind of thing.

“You wished for an altered reality, sweetheart, and you got it.” Bahlin looked almost sympathetic. He didn’t move, but sat there watching me work out the details of what I’d done.

“So my wish, it changed everything?” I wracked my brain, thinking back to the stone circle and the compelling need to wish for a changed reality. I remembered the spinning night sky and the wind breathing a strange phrase through my mind. Could it mean…surely not.

“No, the wish didn’t change everything,” he said, standing and moving toward me.

I stood there, too overwhelmed with all of the information to move. He came close enough that he reached out and traced my jaw with his fingertip.

“Your wish made your old reality fade or, more accurately, become transparent, thereby revealing your direct relation to that most famous of detectives. In case the family history can’t be passed on, it’s the way of the Niteclifs. And historically there’s always been a choice to be made.” Bahlin scrubbed his hands over his face. “Your granddad and father both refused their legacy in order to raise their own families. But every third generation must accept by the age of thirty and pick up the mantle of service for a minimum of ten years. Certain skills are inherited to make this easier for each Niteclif. And now that there’s only you, and you’re also the third generation removed from your great-granddad. I’m afraid you’ve no choice in the matter.” An unrecognizable look passed over his face. Sympathy? Compassion? Maybe it was pity. “But, Maddy, there’s always a significant event that sets off the family tree when the verbal story can’t be passed on. You’ve had two events. First, you lost your parents. Then you say you wished upon a star, yes?”

I nodded.

“Do you remember which star it was?”

I arched one eyebrow at him and said, “Oh, sure, let me run out and point it out to you in the night sky. I don’t have a freaking clue which one it was, Bahlin! I think it was in the southern sky, not too bright. That’s all I know.”

“And which stone circle were you at?” he asked, still standing right in front of me.

“I thought it was Stonehenge… How many are there?” Panic fed into my voice.

Bahlin reached out to stroke my face again, and I calmed a little bit. He drew his eyebrows together and stroked me again. “Dozens.”

“Can I undo this if I get back to that stone circle?” I pulled away from his touch, desperation painting my voice. Maybe I didn’t want to change my reality so much after all. I hadn’t fit into my old life once my parents died; how was I going to fit into a new life here? Then I slowed down and thought about it. My parents were gone. No matter where I was, I was going to have to carve out a new spot for myself. There was no getting around that. Suddenly something Bahlin said earlier flashed through my mind, supernatural.

Bahlin, still stuck on my last question and not privy to the discursiveness of my mind, answered me. “I don’t know that it can be undone without serving the ten years, Maddy. Maddy?” He had picked up on a change in my facial features, probably noticing they’d gone slack with confusion.

“Supernatural?” I asked.

“What? What are you talking about?” He looked confused, running both hands through his hair and pushing it off his face. And then understanding dawned on him. He turned and walked back to the desk, seeming to gather himself with every step. He sat in the chair, shifting it slightly so it faced me. “Let’s work out the family tree issue first, yes?”

“Let’s pretend I can make the stretch and believe that my great-granddad, Aloysius, is who you’re claiming he was. Now go back to the supernatural statement. Explain it to me, please.” My knees had begun to shake and the reality of one of the dream men showing up in person really hit me. I sat abruptly, jarring my spine as I hit the floor. Delayed reaction sucks.

Bahlin jumped up in a flash of movement, intent on coming to me, but I held up my hand again. He sank back to his seat with a small sigh and leaned forward, forearms on his knees, face tilted slightly to the side. “Do you believe in anything supernatural?”