My Lady Vampire - Book Three (26 page)

“I am no fool, Adrian. Believe me, it is not my intent to take her on myself. I merely intend to provide a distraction, to call her attention elsewhere at the right moment, and hopefully give you the opening you need to end her existence.”

He crossed to the door and opened it, waiting for Adrian to join him. “Have you any idea how you’re actually going to dispose of her?”

“Er…” Adrian thought for a moment. “Good question. D’you have an extra pistol or two?”

Sidney rolled his eyes. “I should’ve guessed. If not, I suppose you’re planning on wringing her neck bare handed, are you? Come with me.” He led Adrian down a series of passages to a dark part of the house, dusty and obviously not used much. “I found this recently. I’m not absolutely convinced of its authenticity, but it might come in handy.”

He pushed open the door to a small storage room and Adrian coughed as a cloud of dust welcomed them.

“Sorry.” Sidney ignored the grime. “I don’t clean in here. Neither does anybody else. Now…where was it? Ah…yes.” He strode to one corner and pulled out a large package, tearing away the rotting fabric that covered the contents. “Here.”

He held it out to Adrian, who blinked. “What the hell?”

“It’s St. Chesswell’s broadsword.” Sidney shrugged. “Or so ‘tis said. I cannot vouch for it, of course, but…”

Truly it was a thing of beauty, even coated with the dirt of centuries. Adrian reached for it and Sidney watched as he hefted it, moving it and weighing it.

“The balance is excellent for a weapon this size.” Adrian thoughtfully tried a few moves, finding he needed both hands to wield it. “And the workmanship is superb. Whatever it is--or was--father, it’s a weapon to be reckoned with.”

Sidney nodded. “I agree.” He led them both from the room and locked the door behind him. “I would feel better had I found some hint of a suggestion as to the best way to destroy this evil, Adrian, I won’t hide that from you.”

“I know.” Adrian shouldered the sword and marched forward like a knight heading for a Crusade--which in many ways he was. Only this Crusade was for the souls of so many innocent beings, as well as his own.

It was strange, thought Sir Sidney as they opened the door to the outside and began the short walk to the Chyne. Adrian looked
bright
, surrounded by a soft aura. The sword lay against his shoulder, seeming to nestle comfortably against the breadth of the muscles. There were no shadows within him this night, no darkness, no self-loathing. If there was such as thing as an avenging angel, Adrian would fit the bill quite well.

It was truly miraculous what love could accomplish.

Sidney prayed that it would be enough. Because if it wasn’t, disaster would surely come upon St. Chesswell. And the Chyne would be well and truly cursed.

- - - -

Adrian’s emotions were roiling as he walked silently over the grounds of St. Chesswell towards the rough cliffs that marked the Chyne. Thunder boomed in the distance, mirroring the state of his mind.

He felt--uneasy, afraid, determined and yet oddly at peace. There was something inside him now that gave him strength and courage in a way he’d not known before.

It was Kat. The essence of the woman who loved him more than her own life. A gift like that could not be measured, nor could its effects be anticipated.  He’d truly been cursed the night he’d met Thérèse, but whatever sins he’d committed had been expiated by the rush of Kat’s blood down his throat and into his soul.

She’d shed light into his darkest places and made him realize that there must be something left inside him worth loving. If she could love him, then
everything
was possible. Even the destruction of an ancient evil like Thérèse.

“Wait for me.” Sidney panted as he followed Adrian, who slowed his steps so that his father could catch up.

“Are you sure?” Adrian knew Sidney would understand the question.

“I’m sure.” The older man stared forward. “This is a threat to my life as well, Adrian. It could easily be a threat that has menaced the Chesswells for centuries. I don’t know all there is to know. But I know enough.”

“I could wish it otherwise, father.”

“Me too.” Sidney stopped and stared at the Chyne, its depths illuminated by the occasional flashes of lightning. “Is she near, d’you think?”

Adrian let his senses roam the land around them, seeking that dark scent that he associated with Thérèse. There was a faint trail, but nothing definitive.

“She’s been here. I can say that. But more, at this point, I will not promise.”

Sidney nodded. “She wants us down in the Chyne. It makes sense. Visibility is poor there, the surface uneven, and the stream which runs through it can make the footing slippery. It’s where I’d choose to fight.”

“Very well, then. Let us go and face her. There is nothing to be gained by delaying.” He glanced at the storm. “And much to be lost if that breaks over us at an inopportune moment.”

Sidney glanced too. “Don’t worry. It will go out to sea.” A huge peal of thunder rolled over the soft landscape.

“Really?” Adrian’s skepticism was clear

“Yes. Really.” Sidney remained resolute. “I know these lands. I know the weather. It will be a fierce storm but it will go out to sea. We might see a raindrop or two and get a bit of noise out of it, but that will be all. Trust me.”

“I do.”

And
that
statement, thought Adrian, was the other part of the puzzle that was his life. The love of his wife and the trust he had in Sir Sidney Chesswell.  These things had come together at this time--this very moment.

There
must
be a reason. It was too hard to accept that sheer coincidence had put his feet on this particular path.

And at that moment his feet slipped on his path--on damp grass perhaps--and he slithered downwards, hearing Sir Sidney catch his breath behind him.

Adrian staggered, catching his balance at the last moment and striding down to the floor of the Chyne accompanied by the tumble of loose pebbles and gravel. A splashing sound alerted him to the presence of the stream, and a flash of lightning showed him that his father was making his way more sedately down to join him.

As the thunder died away, Adrian’s skin chilled at another sound.

A low laugh.

Thérèse
.

- - - -

“Good evening, Sir Sidney. Come to visit me, along with my dearest Adrian, I see.”

Sidney blinked as the woman seemed to materialize on the far bank of the stream. He could see her clearly even though the rest of the area was dark, lit only by the storm.

The wind picked up and howled down the Chyne, lifting the silky darkness of her skirts and blowing her long red hair around in a cloud of fire.

“You must be Thérèse.” He bowed politely, coming to a standstill next to Adrian.

“I am indeed. And I owe you a debt of gratitude for saving my precious child here.”

“I am no child of yours, Thérèse.” Adrian’s tone was scornful.

“Really? Did I not create you? Make you what you are? Gift you with immortality? That sounds like you are my child, does it not, Sir Sidney?”

Sidney clasped his fingers around the comforting stock of his pistol. “No, Ma’am. With all due respect, it does not. You did not gift him with anything. You stole from him that which was rightfully his.”

“Pah.” She tossed her head. “I do not call it stealing to replace that dreadfully mundane human existence with one such as mine. I am a goddess, Sir Sidney. You mortals are but the merest flashes of life. To live and die so quickly. How empty. How futile.”

“How wonderful.”  Adrian met her, look for look. “How divine to love. To touch another and have that love returned. Something you’ll never know, Thérèse.”

She shifted and in a flash was confronting Adrian, mere inches between them. “I care not for such things.” She raised her hand and made to touch the sword, then frowned and stepped back.

Sidney could have sworn she had to work to produce her customary smile. “You assume that
this
…” Again she gestured to the sword. “This weapon is enough to stop me? How foolish.”

Adrian lifted it from his shoulder and swung it, point away from him, leveling it at Thérèse. “Really?”

She took another step backward.

Adrian took a step forward. “Perhaps it’s not as insignificant as you’d like us to believe, Thérèse. Perhaps there is something in this sword--or in those who have used it before--that you find distasteful?”

Sidney held his breath as Thérèse let her fangs emerge. They were sharply brilliant knives of light that gleamed from her face. Truly she was a formidable creature, a blend of sensual attraction and vicious desire. He understood what had lured Adrian in the first place.

She hissed and moved once more, dancing around Adrian, teasing him with her words and her body, but always staying out of range of the sword.

Sidney slowly pulled his pistol from his pocket trying not to alert her to his intentions. Unfortunately, he had underestimated her ability to detect his movements.

“I think not, dear Sir Sidney. Not that it would damage me, but I do detest firearms.” The pistol in his hand flew yards away and exploded as it fell against the walls of the Chyne. The report was loud in the confined space and yet no louder than the thunder which echoed the sound of the gun.

“And the other one, yes?”

Sidney cried out as his pocket exploded and pain seared his leg. She had detonated the second pistol in his jacket and the bullet had creased him, sending him groaning to the ground.

It was enough to distract Adrian for a second or two and he turned, only to have Thérèse grab for his arm and attempt to push the sword away. She seemed unable to touch it, though, since she continued to struggle with him, to force him to drop the weapon.

Sidney watched the battle through a haze of pain, gasping as his leg felt like red-hot pokers were being driven through it.

“I’m all right, Adrian. Don’t worry about me. Take care of business, my son.” He yelled the words, hoping that Adrian would hear them and focus on his enemy. This was no time for distractions, or caring for wounds. That would come later.

If there was to be a “later”.

Once again, Sidney Chesswell offered up a prayer to whoever might be watching or listening.  He prayed that Adrian would be able to defeat this evil and find his salvation in the arms of his wife.

He prayed that Katherine had survived and would live a life of love with Adrian.

And he prayed that he could move just a little and get the damned rock out from under him where it was digging into his backside.

His last prayer was indeed answered. And as he moved he felt--to his everlasting surprise--an unbroken vial of holy water still residing in his inside pocket.

Perhaps there were such things as miracles after all.

Chapter Twenty

Adrian was breathing hard. Not so much from his movements, but from the sheer mental effort of keeping Thérèse away from him and his sword.

Thus far, it was working. She would not touch the metal, but tried her best to make him drop it. He fought her will, feeling it curling around his mind like a dark wraith, tugging him this way and that, urging him to her bidding.

She was failing, and she knew it.

With Sir Sidney incapacitated, Thérèse redoubled her efforts. “Come, Adrian. Remember our joining. Remember how good it was.” Her clothes fell from her and vanished. Naked she taunted him.

“Remember my breasts? How sweet my nipples felt between your lips? Do you remember how you took me? Standing up? Pounding yourself into me until we were both beside ourselves with passion?”

She spread her thighs lasciviously, showing him her brilliantly red pussy hair and the shining lips beneath. “Even now I’m ready for you. I could take you and fuck you right this moment. Right in front of him.” She nodded at Sidney. “And you would not care. Neither would I.”

Adrian’s lip curled with distaste as he watched her finger her pussy and suck the juices she discovered with evident delight. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh you’re wrong. I could make you hard with a look.” She snorted as she stroked her breasts. “Come to me, Adrian. Fuck me. Let me suck that lovely cock of yours. Then we shall feed and find our own lust, our own little universe. Together.”

“No Thérèse. Not now. Not ever.” Adrian raised the sword and his resolution strengthened as he saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes.

“You think to scare me?” She took a step to one side.

“No. I think to destroy you.”

“With that?” She stared scornfully at the sword. “Stronger men than you have tried and failed.”

That might well be the truth, mused Adrian as he watched her circle him warily. Perhaps as far back as the Saint himself. “It seems you are not overly pleased to see this weapon, Thérèse.”

Lightning flashed once more, revealing her nakedness, her nubile body--and the inky black eyes. “I care naught for such things.” She played with her nipples once more, trying to distract his attention.

Trying to seduce him. For the first time, Adrian realized she was trying her hardest to seduce him into fucking her, or at least lowering his guard. He knew she’d feed on him and probably kill him without a blink, but she was definitely trying to use her body to lure him.

She didn’t seem to have many other tools at her disposal. And he was, apparently, immune.

It was a heady feeling as he stood staring at her, seeing her clearly as if for the first time. “Well, well. It would seem your breasts are not as firm as I once thought.”

She risked a glance downward in concern.

Adrian kept up his attack. “And your pussy may weep, but I doubt there’s honey in those tears. No, Thérèse. I have no interest in fucking you any more. In fact, I had no interest in fucking you after that first night. Hard to accept, isn’t it?”

He was swinging the sword rhythmically, making it slice the air with a sharp whooshing sound. “You kept coming to me in dreams, luring me any way you could, showing me the most erotic images you could create. Because you knew that I would see you as you are if we met in the flesh once more.”