“You must drop the wards so we can make it over the fence,” I announced.
She took a deep breath as my comment played across her face. I shook my head. “You do not have time to make another decision! The choice has already been made for you! Stay here and you will die.”
She nodded briefly before facing the fence again. Then she held her hands out before her and closed her eyes, moving her lips with silent words. When she reopened her eyes again, she turned to face me and simply nodded. Gripping her hand and hoping there were not any secondary wards in place, we materialized over the fence.
We landed on the other side of the fence without further incident. I glanced around and found we were ensconced in the midst of the forest, covered by the canopy of tree branches overhead. When I glanced at Rachel, the pallor of her face was quite white and her expression showed surprise.
“You failed,” she said, sounding breathless. I eyed her in question as she continued. “Your mission,” she clarified. “You failed to do what you came to do.”
It was true. Jeffers was still alive, and so was Luce. But while I had not made myself any promises to kill Luce, I had certainly vowed to watch Jack Jeffers take his last breath.
“Failure is nothing more than a minor setback, my dear,” I replied with an encouraging smile. I started forward, eager to put as much distance between Luce and us as possible. “And minor setbacks rarely concern me.”
Although I could not finish my mission on this particular occasion, I vowed to return and see justice prevail where it was due. Until then, I had to ensure that Rachel was safe and returned to Betta. I believed the little traitor would make a fine addition to Kinloch Kirk and my people. Of course, she would need to remain under temporary observation, but my instincts told me she was honest and trustworthy. And my gut feelings are never wrong.
Upon my return, my next quarry of business I would attend to was that of the Lady Bryn and her … peculiar ability to spontaneously combust voluntarily.
However, that would have to wait for another day.
THE GENTLEMAN
Book 3 of the Bryn and Sinjin Series
HP MALLORY
Copyright ©2017 by HP Mallory
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Acknowledgements:
To my son: Thank you for making my world a better place.
To Lenny: Thank you for your neverending support and encouragement. I love you so much.
To my friend, JR Rain: Thank you for your many years of friendship and for being one of my closest friends. Your inexhaustible advice and inspiration have helped me more than you will ever know.
To Teri at editingfairy.com: Thank you for always doing such a great job!
ONE
Bryn
“Sinjin!”
My voice echoed.
I reached for him, hoping he’d find the strength to pull himself up and avoid the fate that was currently poised at his feet, the same fate that had already taken my sister and niece. My heart racing, tears began rolling down my face and the horror that surrounded me brought me to my knees onto the cement floor before I jumped at hearing my own cries.
I found it hard to look away as I watched the light in Sinjin’s eyes begin to dim, their ice-blue dulling to grey.
It’s all your fault! screamed my voice inside my head. This—all of it! You brought this on everyone! You are the reason everyone is dead!
“No!” I replied as I shook Sinjin, trying to convince myself there was still some life in the six-hundred-year-old vampire. His eyes were vacant, staring blankly and turning the color of stone. He was already gone.
I glanced up into the unforgiving clouds and my tears began to flow with the ice-cold droplets of rain that bled from the heavens.
The dark orange of the setting sun blinded me as I screamed out against the injustice of it all. How could the sun continue to set, how could the birds continue to call from the trees and how could the heather continue to bud after this complete and total devastation? How could life continue to go on after I’d just lost everyone who ever meant anything to me?
The searing pain in my heart caused me to gulp in a mouthful of air before my eyes popped open and I sat bolt upright, utterly petrified.
Only then did I realize I was sitting in my bed and safe in my bedroom. I was still panting, the horrible nightmare difficult to ignore. I suddenly exhaled a deep breath, not even realizing that I’d been holding it.
Although I was well aware that I’d been temporarily paralyzed in the grasp of a terribly disturbing dream, I couldn’t manage to shake the horror. I scanned my bedroom for something to focus on, anything that could help me stabilize the thudding of my heart, or offer a reprieve from the visions now racing through my head. That was when I saw it: a wooden box with the letter “B” carved on top.
As I stared at the present Jolie gave me when I returned from the compound in Montana, the echoes of my rapid breathing began to subside. The cold sweat that previously covered me ran down my forehead and evaporated into my hairline. My body trembled as welcome relief began making its way through me, although I was still clenching the duvet tightly against my chest.
Even though I fought hard to ignore it, the vivid scenes of the horrific nightmare continued to replay in my mind. I couldn’t seem to overcome the sensation that I was the one responsible for all of the death surrounding me. After a few minutes, I pulled the duvet cover up to my shoulders because I was shivering. Goose bumps covered my body.
Slowly glancing around the dark room, I encouraged myself to breathe longer and more deeply in an attempt to decelerate my thundering heart rate. Shadows lingered in the corners of the room, making it difficult to see in the darkness. Suddenly, I became very aware that I was alone.
Being alone in general didn’t scare me. But being alone after having such a vivid nightmare like the one I’d just experienced shocked me into a strange dimension of fear. I felt afraid of the dark, my past, my future, and what I’d just dreamt was happening to a man I cared very much about. After experiencing something as vivid and awful as that nightmare, every noise, every sound, and every whisper morphed into something evil—lurking—whose only purpose was to cause me harm.
But, really, how could I trust my own intuition anymore? My mind, when it wasn’t a barren landscape, overflowed with memories that gave me nothing but pain and anger. The events at the compound, when my virginity and my dignity were both snatched away from me, had changed me irreparably. I could never be the same again. Even my sleep taunted me with recurring nightmares and cold sweats, always threatening to steal my sanity and destroy it.
All of a sudden, more memories and faded feelings began to rush over me. Flashes of the time when I was being held prisoner by my own people. After suffering the betrayal of those I once trusted, my only hope had been that I could somehow remain unnoticed by Luce.
I wanted to become invisible, like a statue hidden in the basement of his mind. Yes, he was the man who raised me, and the closest thing to a father I’d ever known, but I wished he would forget that I ever existed. All I wanted was to live apart and away from the tribe. I just wanted to be alone.
However, Luce’s grip was tight, and his vindictive streak wholly encompassing. There was no way he would ever have allowed me to retire into obscurity. Instead, he’d kept me locked up inside the compound, forcing me to endure insult and humiliation as my body was repeatedly used by those I despised. All the while, any attempt at escaping would libel me a traitor, for which the punishment was death.
That wasn’t surprising. Luce lacked compassion in general. His own people—the Daywalkers and Elementals—meant nothing to him. They obeyed his bidding, followed his ru
les, and died for his causes in order to appear useful in his eyes. But he didn’t care about any of them. He didn’t care about anyone, save himself.
Once upon a time, I’d thought he cared about me. A long time ago when I’d been his child prodigy—I was proud to be deemed his obedient daughter and dedicated warrior. But I’d betrayed him, the leader of our tribe, which relegated me to his least prized possession. I was now forced to work as a breeder, his last attempt to break my spirit and my will.
Eventually, I escaped, and even though I managed to sever the ties with Luce, they weren’t completely dissolved; they were just less visible. But I still felt them, along with the recurring nightmares that plagued me each night. It became fairly obvious to me that Luce would forever maintain some type of influence over me.
Now that influence was beginning to feel different, and slightly more concrete. I was becoming acutely aware that something was pulling on me. A niggling feeling of impending doom from something looming right around the corner, something that was just waiting for the right moment to make itself known. That became my constant companion. Paranoia, sure! However, there was something very real and very threatening behind it.
Maybe it was just the recurring nightmares. They were becoming so frequent that I couldn’t ignore them or blow them off as just another bad dream. This last nightmare in particular was the most realistic, and the most disconcerting so far.
Was Luce trying to reach me? Was someone or something infiltrating my thoughts while I slept? Was this just the result of my traumatized mind, or could it actually be a vision of what was to come? Could I trust myself enough to know?
That was the sticking point.
I didn’t know if I could trust myself anymore. After enduring the whims of countless men, I knew I was changed—that much I could admit. But I doubted my true identity now—I doubted who and what I was. I didn’t know myself anymore, and that was a scary thought.
Regardless, I couldn’t stop thinking this nightmare had to be Sinjin’s way of calling out to me and letting me know that he needed my help. It was too real, too precise, and too lifelike. I’ve had nightmares before, and plenty of them; in fact, not a night has passed when I wasn’t haunted by the stinging memories of what I endured. But when I awoke from those nightmares, I always recognized what they were—and that they existed as recollections and distortions of my unbridled imagination, almost. But this? This one was different.
I stared at the dark stripes on my blanket, illuminated in the glow of the moonlight sneaking through my window.
It had to be Sinjin. He must need me.
My heart raced as I replayed the vision over and over again. My body trembled. I tried to make sense of what I’d seen. How could a dream shake me so terribly? I didn’t know. Unless, of course, it wasn’t a dream at all.
I felt like I was suffocating as I tried to decide whether or not to take the nightmare seriously.
Was it a dream or was it a vision? Dream or vision? Dammit all but why couldn’t I tell the difference?
I couldn’t move. I felt sick to my stomach. Closing my eyes, I began trying to find my center point—hoping to ground my emotions. Having rarely trusted my instincts and myself before, I had to now.
Normally, I tried to avoid indulging my emotions. I was trained to believe that emotions were what made people weak and irrational. Over the years, I’d managed to suppress mine. No, not suppress them; I never even acknowledged them. I simply wavered between stoicism and solemnity, because I am an Elemental. A fate of damnation, although I failed to realize that until my sister, Jolie, kidnapped me and held me prisoner. At first, she held me against my will, and later, not so much. The truth was that being imprisoned by my sister allowed me to discover compassion, love, and affection.
Until my arrival to Kinloch Kirk, I’d never experienced those things. It seems so odd to me now, but back then, I’d never even seen two people hugging. There was no time for passion or affection where I’d come from. Both were strictly forbidden. Luce insisted we focus on more important things like combat, strategy, and the virtues of becoming a loyal soldier.
But once Luce degraded me and forced me to work as a breeder after I got hauled back to his camp, I discovered a new part of me. One that needed to shed the unemotional side of my past. Don’t get me wrong—the stoicism in me was certainly still there and always would be; but thanks to my sister and Sinjin, more often than not, I managed to find unending joy in my new life at Kinloch Kirk.
Like the way the sun warmed my face during a sunny day, or the fragrant scent of wild, Scottish heather in the air. They were simple things in life which had never meant anything to me before. Now I had to marvel at their beauty and magnificence.
Tonight was something altogether different. I couldn’t go back to sleep, not in my current panicked state. Unfortunately, I also doubted I could tell anyone. Not yet. Not until I was sure that what I experienced wasn’t just a false scenario that existed only in my disturbed mind. Furthermore, the dream made no sense.
I stood up and paced. My bare feet felt cold against the wooden floor, and my white nightgown clung to my legs. For the record, I’ve always hated nightgowns; they just seem so outdated and useless. Not to mention that I looked like I’d been plucked off the Little House on the Prairie set … But Jolie had given me this one as a present and so I’d felt obligated to wear it. Well, maybe that wasn’t fully the truth. It was more accurate to say that I wore it because it reminded me of her.
My eyes returned to the wooden music box sitting on top of my dresser again. I walked over and picked it up. When I opened it, a traditional Scottish lullaby played softly. The inside of the box was lined with red velvet and a framed photo of my niece, Emma, was attached to the top. I pulled the photo out from the box and held it up to the stream of moonlight reflecting through my window.
Emma’s baby fine hair was brushed neatly and her blue eyes were every bit as beautiful as the ocean just beyond the cliffs of Kinloch Kirk. Even though she was just a baby, her eyes reflected intelligence, wisdom, and intensity. Specks of silver and gold floated in her irises of azure blue. Her smile was faint.
One of her hands rested on her stomach, placed there by her parents, of course; and her other hand rested on her chest. Her small nails shone like crescent white moons. I had to wonder about Emma’s powers, her abilities, and the woman she would grow up to become. I prayed and hoped she would not end up like me. I also hoped she would inherit her mother’s easy affability and understanding. Sighing, I reached for the wooden box and placed the photo back inside before setting it back on top of my dresser.
Pacing again, I mentally debated whether or not I should be alarmed by my latest nightmare. Maybe it could be a vision of what was soon to come? I felt my hands growing clammy as my stomach sank down to my toes.
Flashes of images I previously witnessed came all at once into my head. The overwhelming guilt that I was the catalyst, the agent responsible for all the death and destruction surrounding me, nearly overwhelmed me.
Could I be that evil? I asked myself. Could I do such horrendous things to people who trust me, to people I care about? I didn’t want to know the truth, really. If the nightmare were actually a vision of the imminent future, I already had my answer.
Then I froze. One question emerged from the recesses of my mind; one that I dared not ask myself because I was petrified to know the answer.
“Would I turn on my family as quickly as I turned on those who were once my people?” I asked myself aloud.
I shook my head because I just couldn’t understand how that could be. And then it dawned on me.
Luce. He would be the only reason I would ever harm anyone I cared about. Luce was powerful enough to command my thoughts and therefore my actions, and if that happened, I was as good as the puppet to the puppeteer.
Wrapping my arms around my chest, I stared out the small window in my room. During the daylight, it neatly framed the Scottish countryside beyond the court
yard. From my window tonight, thanks to the illumination of the moon, I could see the massive pond in the center of the courtyard, but I couldn’t see much beyond that.
The water was still and calm, so unlike my heart. A million thoughts crossed my mind as I stood there alone, failing to answer a single one of them. Nothing, at this moment, could deliver me past the ugly sensation I felt. Nothing.
I glanced at my door again and the thought crossed my mind that I needed to go see Sinjin and tell him about my dream; it seemed like the right thing to do—and the only calming thing for me. But that thought instantly irked me. The idea of running to him for comfort left a bitter taste in my mouth. I should be able to calm myself down without him. God knew I’d never relied on anyone in the past.
Just as quickly as I rejected the idea of consulting Sinjin, it resurfaced. And this time, it wouldn’t leave. I knew Sinjin was the best person to approach—logical, unemotional, and the type who didn’t jump to conclusions.
Maybe that was all the encouragement I needed. Before I realized it, I’d already grabbed my robe and put it on over my nightgown. I headed to my door, taking a deep breath before I opened it. Walking the ten steps that separated my room from Sinjin’s, I hesitated. Standing there, in front of Sinjin’s bedroom door, I swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to knock. I had no idea how he’d react.
Would he reassure me that I was worrying about nothing? Tell me I was getting all bent out of shape over something as insignificant as a silly dream? What if he assumed my reasons for coming to him in the middle of the night had nothing to do with my nightmare? What if he thought I was putting the moves on him? It certainly wasn’t a ludicrous thought, especially considering how enormous his ego was. It knew no bounds.