Part 20 (2/2)
A dark, deformed slug dropped with a b.l.o.o.d.y splat into a patch of chickweed, and she grabbed the soaked fabric, pressing a wad of it to the back of her leg- ”Nicola.”
Gabriel woke with a lurch, turning at once to grope with his hands. He found her curled up beside him, her head pillowed on her hand, and ran his fingers over her. No gunshot wounds marred her bare legs, although he checked over every centimeter of her skin twice.
It had been his imagination, a fantasy that had played out in his head. But if it had been only that, then why had he been blind? In all of his dreams, he could see perfectly.
His hand strayed up to her face and felt the cool, damp remnants of tears.
Sometimes dreams are just reality turned inside out.
Gabriel lay back, pulling her to him and holding her against his pounding heart.
Although Michael Cyprien had been to Dublin countless times over the centuries, the lack of skysc.r.a.pers and two- and three- story buildings in the city allowed him to recall the place as it had been before the age of steel and concrete. Dublin was still something of a squat, overgrown village divided in half by the river Liffey, with its back against the pewter sea.
There were changes, radical and subtle. Perhaps the most lasting was the Irish resentment of British colonialism. Dublin displayed it very subtly, as with the street signs written in English and Gaelic, as if to remind visitors that the inhabitants had had their own language, even if no one spoke it anymore. Yet the Irish wanted respectability, and tried to project it with the many buildings prefixed with tall, white Grecian columns.
As Richard's people monitored all of the best hotels in the city, Michael had directed Phillipe to book them in a small, somewhat dismal bed-and-breakfast on Dublin's working-cla.s.s northside. The proprietor, a widow whose wardrobe seemed to consist only of long-skirted black crepe de chine dresses, warned them that she had gone along with the city's ban on smoking in pubs and restaurants, and would eject them the minute she smelled tobacco or caught anyone lighting up in their rooms. To Michael's displeasure, the innkeeper proved to be one of the rare humans who had a natural resistance to l'attrait. It had been a relief to leave the place and take Leary down to the local pub for a meal.
”So you've just come up from London, then?” the dark, wiry bartender asked Cyprien as he handed him a gla.s.s of wine.
”Yesterday.” Michael looked over at Phillipe and Marcella, who had taken a table in the corner of the pub and were watching the doors. Between them, Leary sat slowly masticating his way through a plate of corned beef and cabbage.
”Lovely cities the Brits have, don't they? Five or six thousand pubs in London alone. Can't build a proper beer in any of them, but you're in Ireland now, lad.” The bartender patted his arm. ”You're safe.”
Michael remembered the last time he had tasted Irish beer. In that era it had been dark, rough, and almost chew-able-not very different from this brew. ”Thank you.”
A couple of men dressed in overalls and smelling offish came in, drawing the bartender down to the other end of the bar and giving Cyprien a moment to think.
On the journey to Ireland, Marcella had told him that sending Phillipe and Leary into Dundellan was too dangerous. She didn't believe his seneschal could make a convincing pretense of being yet another drug addict Leary had brought from the streets, or that Leary could be trusted at all. She disdained what she called old siege tactics and wanted to use more modern methods to gain entry to Dundellan.
Cyprien had disagreed. The guards would recognize all of the Kyn, if not by sight then by smell, and the only way to penetrate the castle's defenses was with humans.
Michael was not worried about getting caught-he had every intention of confronting Richard-but like Marcella, he worried about Leary. The man had sat in the very back of the pa.s.senger van, his hands and ankles bound to prevent him from making another attempt to escape, but leaving London had not disturbed him. When told they were going to Ireland, Leary had smiled and even giggled.
”Seigneur.”
Michael turned to look into haunted dark eyes. ”What is it?”
”I am leaving for the village now,” Marcella told him. ”I would speak to you privately before I go.”
He glanced over at Phillipe, who nodded before speaking in a low voice to Leary. Cyprien paid for their drinks before he followed Marcella out of the pub.
”This plan is not sound,” she told him as they walked down the street of old brick buildings and brightly colored doors. ”Richard holds the advantage. Leary cannot be trusted. We are only three. If you mean to besiege Dundellan, let us return to America and raise a proper army.”
”This is not the fourteenth century,” he reminded her. ”I cannot invade England.”
”Very well. There is one thing more I would say to you.” She led him around a corner and onto a street of furniture stores. ”I did not speak of this when I agreed to serve as your second because it was not my place. Phillipe will not tell you because he is your man.”He lifted his brows. ”No one wishes to talk to me?”
”Not in your present mood, my lord.” Her mouth twisted. ”We are all very fond of our heads.”
”I vow not to touch a hair on your head. There.” He spread his hands. ”Say what you will.”
”The bond a Kyn lord shares with his sygkenis is for life, but yours and Alexandra's is particularly strong,” she said carefully.
”Testing such a bond results in serious consequences, as I well know.”
Michael frowned. ”You have never belonged to a Kyn lord.”
”My brother Arnaud lost his sygkenis during the Revolution,” Cella said, her voice falling to a whisper. ”Madness and sorrow nearly destroyed his life. It is why we came to America. To escape all of the things that reminded him of his loss.”
Michael remembered how Thierry Durand had also lost his mind after believing that his wife had been tortured to death. ”You think I will go insane?”
She shook her head. ”I fear that you will be made the victim of your feelings for Alexandra.”
Michael fought back a surge of anger. ”The separation will soon be ended.”
”The strain of being apart from Alexandra is affecting your ability to make rational decisions now. You are becoming more and more reckless. Such as your decision to bring Leary with us.” She halted in front of a mattress and bedding shop that promised, no more back pain or your money back! on the advertis.e.m.e.nt posters plastered in the windows. ”There is something very wrong with this man. Have you not heard him muttering to himself?”
”I have heard him muttering.” It was all the man seemed to do. ”His prayers appear to comfort him.”
”He is not praying,” Cella said sharply. ”He whispers filth under his breath. He is obsessed with some woman, and plans to do great harm to her. What if he means to harm your sygkenis?”
”I have taken away his fear of the Kyn,” Michael said. ”He has no reason to hurt Alexandra, but if he tries, Phillipe will be there to protect her.”
”I hope you are correct.” She flagged down a taxi. ”I will be waiting in the village. G.o.d be with you, seigneur.”
Cyprien kissed her cheeks and helped her into the cab, standing and watching as the taxi headed out toward the northbound beltway. His temper had become quicker to flare since leaving the States, but they were all on edge.
A hand touched his arm. ”Master.”
”Take Leary to gather his quota,” Michael told Phillipe. ”As soon as he collects them, we leave for Dundellan.”
Chapter 14.
The captain of Tremayne's guard, Korvel, had just finished cleaning the wounds on John's neck when Alexandra and another guard came into the castle infirmary. Or, rather, John's sister strode in with the guard chasing after her.
”Doctor, you are not permitted in this part of the castle,” the guard said in a strange, pleading tone. ”If you would-”
Alexandra turned and punched the man in the face, knocking him across the room. He hit the floor and sat there rubbing his jaw and looking more like a crushed schoolboy than a wounded man.
”Hey, John,” his sister said as she came to him. ”Korvel, take Stefan and get out of here.”
John knew that tone. ”I'm all right, Alex. She didn't take enough to hurt me. It just left me with a headache.”
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