Regency Rogues Omnibus (96 page)

Kit nearly jumped backward when Hellion rushed out onto the stage, nearly as though he flew, with his arms outstretched and his white cloak billowing outward like wings on either side of him. Immediately behind him, Kit saw two big black male attendants pushing out a large cross set on a square base with wheels.

What happened in the next interminable hour or longer was a series of traumatic events to Kit’s mind. She saw it all clutching Brynmore’s hand, hearing all Hellion’s insane, but hypnotizing diatribes of his convoluted visions of godly rhapsodies. For her, the entire events unfolding seemed to collect like a nightmare. Horrors blinking in and out of her mind. Perhaps it was the only way she could accept it and still stay standing. In between her careening thoughts, she fought with everything she possessed not to think about the fact that this could have happened to Clay. No! She could not allow herself to believe that, she would not go there as she and Brynmore witnessed the true abominations of Hellion for the first time.

Brynmore clenched his fist, gritting his teeth, wondering whether he could actually stand by and watch Hellion kill the young man on stage. The images seemed to come in short epochs, blinking one after the other, always with Hellion’s voice booming its blasphemous filth.

First an obviously unwilling and naked young man was forced, struggling onto the stage. He was forced to the cross and tied there, begging to be let go. That desperate pleading seeming to feed the depraved masses. Then next came watching the black attendants slice the young man’s wrists on Hellion’s instructions. Then they held up golden chalices under the dripping blood, collecting the very life flowing from the terror-stricken man.

Blinking sweat from his eyes, Brynmore next saw Hellion manipulating the dying young man’s cock in a form of masturbation. Around them the cult members hummed chants while Hellion screamed in frenzies about the power of sex in life and death. As much as the young man struggled, he still became hard and Hellion forced a sweating ejaculation from him into another chalice. The force of the ejaculation increased his blood pumping faster from his body, flowing swifter from his wrists. Brynmore huffed, while his body twitched beneath the tight restraint he forced against it. His mind screamed repeatedly that if he acted now he would ruin the chances of capturing Hellion. Hellion would get away to do this over and over again. Still, it nearly was not enough conviction to let an innocent life perish before him as he watched Hellion mix the man’s seed with his blood in another chalice. This chalice Hellion raised, staring at it with a maniacal gleam in his pink eyes, and he drank from it as the crowd’s chanting rose in excitement.

Fiends, murderers, perverts
shouted through Brynmore’s mind as Kit started to move and he had to forcibly tug her back. They would be mobbed if they tried to stop it.

“Blood!” Hellion shouted, looking straight at Brynmore. “I know the blood!” he hissed, communicating his insanity to Brynmore.

Then the gong sounded with Hellion shouting his crazed endings to his ceremony through three more gong soundings, before it all finally fell silent on the filth. The torches around the stage went out as if by magic and Brynmore saw the black attendants rolling the young man off the stage. Unconscious or dead, how could he live with himself, Brynmore wondered, as Kit curled into him, both of them heedless of where they were or who would see them.

Ash stood enfolded in a thick-hooded brown robe behind the stage as Hellion marched past him. Hellion stopped, not turning to face him, but saying to Ash, “You, and your father, Lord Rushborn, we will all meet, Lord Duneagan. I
will
find a way to meet the Prince and where is that bitch Dame Baset? Get your father and come now!” Hellion finished, then he continued stalking away.

Ash watched Hellion leave through slitted eyelids and the moment Hellion disappeared he unwound his body and moved into action. He just prayed that he’d not gambled too long and he would be able to save the young man’s life. As Ash moved toward trying to save the young man hoping no one would discover his intervention, he wondered again at his own twisted morality. He did not have the right to pray, but he did hope that the Archangels could put an end to this madness.

Brynmore realized that both he and Kit were trembling, in the next moment he became aware that the people around them were beginning to engage in sexual orgies. Some of them, it appeared, were passing around and drinking the vile concoction of blood and semen Hellion had made. Brynmore’s stomach turned over, and for the first time in his life in the midst of a mission, he wanted to flee. Only one thing halted that urge inside him, his rage and determination to get Hellion. “Let’s get the bastard,” he growled into Kit’s ear.

He also hoped to bolster Kit with purpose over their horror. They had several seconds to gather their resolve, when before them once again stood one of Hellion’s black attendants. “The Master would see you now.”

Glancing at Kit’s face, Brynmore could see she looked fierce and he knew she had the same rage inside her that she’d had the moment she first looked at Hellion. He knew he had to be careful however, in an odd way, he was glad he had a task to work on. Without the attendant ahead of them noticing, Brynmore tugged Kit’s hand sharply until she looked at him as they continued walking. Line for line, he stared at her, boring into her mind his sympathy and cautions. Without using words, he spoke to her with his gaze until she gained her control back. Finally she nodded, raising her hand to stroke his jaw once, quickly, but with meaning. Her returning gaze told him everything he needed to know. They were one again, of the same mind, and they were going to play these last scenes with all the heart and artifice they could muster.

The black attendant led them to a richly attired sitting room within Lord Rushborn’s mansion. When the attendant led them inside, Brynmore saw Hellion, an uncloaked Lord Rushborn and, peeking his sharp instincts immediately, he saw a robed figure like the one that had been beside Hellion that night at The Satyr Whip Club.

Brynmore finally asked the question to himself. Who was this? However, Hellion was in a self-proclaimed omnipotent frenzy that distracted his inner questions. It seemed Hellion was riding a high on his own self-importance as he stalked around the room with his white cloak billowing and his voice vociferating.

“
Power
, Lord Duneagan, power is what I offer you and your intimates! The power to touch Gods! To speak to them! You feel it, do you not? In the power of the blood!”

Brynmore opened his mouth to speak, unsure what he might say to the frenzied Hellion as he and Kit tried to stay out of Hellion’s lurching path, a path that kept Brynmore from getting any type of look at the hooded figure’s face. It was man though, he was sure the build was that of a man. Before he could say anything, Hellion continued. “It flows in me
now
, Lord Duneagan! Let me show you my power!”

Alarms struck Brynmore as he glanced at Lord Rushborn, sitting stooped in a chair. He was a very old man with rum-glazed eyes locked on Hellion in some crazed worshiping way. Brynmore immediately wondered if Hellion were drugging Lord Rushborn as he braced himself for Hellion’s newest power play.

“My powerful visions say that
you
have come here tonight with an invitation that your patron implores
me
to meet him!” Hellion announced, with crackling flourish, as if he were revealing world changing prophecies.

Brynmore tried not to rock back on his heels in astonishment as Kit reacted by going down on her knees bowing before Hellion’s still-agitated claims of irrepressible power around the room. Brynmore couldn’t believe the stroke of luck that had just fallen into their plans so completely and because he was unsure how to act, he partially followed Kit’s lead by exclaiming, “Amazing!”

Hellion barely seemed to hear him, perched upon the deity-high he was emulating. “And my power tells me that it is the Prince of Wales! He
begs
to see me!” Hellion proclaimed. “How can I know that if the Gods do not speak to me?”

This was too good to be true,
Brynmore thought, nearly afraid to follow it and take full advantage of it. He’d come there tonight with what he believed would be a difficult task. That task was to make Hellion believe that the Prince of Wales, through his emissary Brynmore, was ordering Hellion’s presence before him. Now Hellion, riding higher in madness after his ceremony, was creating delusions that were eerie. It sent a shiver through Brynmore that some supernatural occurrence was actually happening.

Immediately, he quelled that notion as ridiculous, it was simply coincidence and luck, not some power Hellion really had. Of course, he never believed in coincidence, but this time he would make an exception. Whatever was happening, without any reasons of why or how, he had to follow it.

“Then, my great lord,” Brynmore began, inwardly wincing at having to use such genuflections to Hellion’s ego. “You will be knowing that I am to take you to him right
now
.”

Brynmore held his breath. “Of course!” Hellion announced, then he turned, finally stopping his agitated movements. “Where is, Dame Baset, you were with her and she deserves not to miss this?”

Brynmore was glad he had a ready answer for that one. It had been discussed. “Aye, you will be pleased to know she waits, all ready with the Prince, for you to arrive. Tis on her assurances I came here knowing you would grace the Prince’s curiosity with your presence.”

“Excellent!” Hellion proclaimed. “We leave now for this momentous occasion. Lord Rushborn, my generous and faithful supporter, and his son, will accompany us for this historic event.”

Rushborn’s son?
Brynmore had watched Hellion’s hand sweep toward the aloof hooded figure as he included the title, “Rushborn’s son.” Hellion swept from the room, Brynmore hesitated, bending as though to adjust his boot top, trying to catch a look at the hooded figure’s face, but he was unable to.

However, when Kit rose to follow beside him, she whispered, “I saw glasses beneath the hood.”

Brynmore nodded, and on the way out of Rushborn’s mansion, he signaled that the game was now afoot, to Harrison who was hidden and waiting for just that purpose. The Archangels first plan had been to try for today, however they had further bogus planned meetings between the Prince and Hellion if this one had failed to move Hellion into participating.

Chapter Twenty One

Brynmore sat uncomfortably in the elaborately adorned carriage with Hellion and Rushborn across from him and the mysterious Rushborn’s son conveniently beside him. That this, “son,” had picked the position he did to sit in, was too convenient, because Brynmore still could not obtain a good look at him. It was going to be a long and excruciating ride in such close proximity to Hellion, but he was relieved to see that some of Hellion’s deity-aspiring adrenaline had worn off. He was also glad that when he’d told Hellion, his pet would not be accompanying them because the Prince had no interest in having her at the meeting, Hellion had accepted it easily. Kit had known that was the plan. Brynmore knew even as much as Kit wanted revenge on Hellion that after witnessing the ceremony and the aftermath she was grateful not to be included. He’d seen it in her eyes when he’d roughly kissed her goodbye sending her on her way to their own carriage. Time for a brief second for her to whisper, “Be careful, love, I will be waiting for you.”

Aye, he thought of her now. He thought about their carriage ride earlier that now seemed a lifetime ago. The thought helped him endure the eerie close company of Hellion. Brynmore made certain his cloak was lying open and the ruby showed above his britches for Hellion to see.
Added incentive, you bastard,
Brynmore thought, to keep Hellion moving right where they wanted him to go. It was going to be tricky as hell, however he believed completely in Drummond who predicted reactions and had so far pinned Hellion’s down in a way that was uncanny.

Hellion was so caught up in his deity manifestations that he was not questioning anything, but rather giving his own brand of future predicting credit for it. Brynmore knew Drummond would say one word about this, “Superb.”

Unfortunately, he still had an incredibly long carriage ride to get through with Hellion, meanwhile he had to maintain his fictitious persona. He would have to be the master at concocting conversation about things that did not exist. He admitted it was his weak point, especially with Hellion whom he could not fathom most times. Radford was the expert at flummoxing conversations. The man could wax poetic and believable on all types of things he never had knowledge of. Radford could create identities with entirely believable stories created out of thin air. Brynmore knew one thing in his own favor was he’d admitted the trepidation of his skill for this phase of the plan. That was the way the Archangels were, one reason he believed they were so successful in the past. Not one of them hesitated or tried to hide their shortcomings.

They all knew from past experience that each other’s lives depended on them and they could not let false pride get in the way of that. He’d told them his misgivings and Radford had spent several hours working with him. Then Harrison had also come along to lend a hand. It had helped. They had created a play for the life of this character he was acting out. He used it with Hellion and it was working as they talked. He was bloody well glad, because the things Hellion talked about were unnatural, alien concepts. Brynmore noticed that Hellion was also shrewd in his own way. Hellion asked him in what seemed innocent ways about his association with the Prince, how that had come about. Always, Hellion’s pink eyes piercing his answers.

“The Prince came to be interested in the idea of blood sex. He has large curiosity and tastes. It was just a chance encounter, at first. One of his close mates asked me to attend one of the Prince’s lusty weekend parties he’s famous for.”

“I knew it was because of the blood,” Hellion said.

The more and more Brynmore talked, he noticed Hellion expressing to all, “I knew that.” Until Hellion said, “Your Prince will be impressed with the way I can predict the future,
his
future. The future of all.”

Brynmore nodded. “I’m impressed. I dinna really accept before last night what power I was bringing to my patron, the Prince.”

A wicked smile spread Hellion’s thin bloodless lips. “Power meets power and can only make the God of
all
Gods.”

The carriage began to slow and rattled to a halt. They’d entered the city thirty minutes ago and Brynmore earlier explained to Hellion that the Prince had a military procession to oversee in the streets of London. Afterward they would attend the Prince at his private pavilion on the Thames River. Quickly, to distract Hellion from the carriage halting, Brynmore voiced something he’d been saving for this moment. “You’ll not be able to bring, Lord Rushborn or his son, nor any of yer servants inside when you meet the Prince. His orders are strictly a private meeting.”

“I knew that,” Hellion said distractedly, looking at the closed curtains on the windows as if he could see through them. “Why is this carriage stopped?” he demanded.

“Tis likely the soldiers procession I spoke of clogging the streets,” Brynmore offered.

“I will check, my lord.”

Brynmore flinched at Lord Rushborn’s son’s voice. It was on the side of his bad ear, but still he thought... The son’s hand opened the carriage door. “I’ll be looking with you. I’ve some influence,” Brynmore said, quickly following. “Wait here, Lord Hellion. I be apologizing for the inconvenience,” Brynmore added over his shoulder as he jumped down from the carriage and turned to shut the door.

The second it was shut, Brynmore placed a small metal bar he’d been carrying in his inner pocket through the door handles. He knew that the Archangels were doing the same to the door on the other side. No one was getting out of the carriage now, because with the doors barred, the windows were too small for a full-sized man like Hellion to fit through. Hellion was now a captive inside the carriage. Wasting no time, Brynmore leaped after Lord Rushborn’s son. The unknown quantity.