Chapter Eight
Nero watched the play of emotion cross the woman’s face. He noticed everything.
He knew her name; could hear it in his head, as any Nightmare would be able to. His powers were stronger than they’d ever been, and they were focused on her as if she were a light in the dark, and he a moth. But she was also harder to read than any other woman had ever been. Her name, her fear, and her destiny as queen were all he could glean from the lining of her being.
Her name was Adelaide Lane. Like most humans in this day and age, she was a descendant of a multitude of races and cultures, resulting in full, wavy, shining chestnut hair and skin the color of dark honey. It had seen sun recently, which had lent it a bronze glow and a touch of a burn across the apples of her cheeks. A smattering of freckles only slightly darker than her face graced her small nose, and her deep brown eyes were nearly hypnotic. They hinted at secret depths, at a subconscious filled with the wisdom of someone much older.
But right now they were narrowing with suspicion, and her forehead was furrowed with mounting stress. She’d given in to him, just a little. His strength over others was already strong enough to have breached the weakest of her defenses, in her most vulnerable moment. She was tired and overwhelmed. However, she was strong enough to get over her initial weakness very quickly.
“I…” She broke eye contact, which was impressive in and of itself. A Nightmare’s gaze could be as strong as a vampire’s. Few could look away if the Nightmare didn’t will it.
But she did it, pulling her eyes away to look over her shoulder at the television, which had finally switched news stories. Her photograph was no longer showing in the upper right-hand corner of the screen. “I have to go,” she said, placing her fingers to her forehead as if she were confused. And he would imagine she was. He’d just asked her if she wanted this to go away. And she’d just told him “Yes.” He was betting she wasn’t accustomed to being so forthright with perfect strangers, and most certainly not in traumatic situations like this one.
“I understand,” he said smoothly. “But take this. Put it somewhere safe. If you need help, just call.” He handed her a card. It was one of many he’d found in his pocket as he’d learned who he was for this go-around on Earth. Apparently he was a very successful attorney. These were his business cards. And his office was not all that far from the Four Seasons.
Fate, it would seem, was finally on his side.
Adelaide took his offered card automatically; it was simply the polite thing to do. Then she stepped back. “Thank you,” she said cautiously. “Again.”
He knew that as far as she was concerned, her entire government would be out to get her right about now, and that knowledge was plain in her expression as she re-pocketed her phone along with his card and her mind spun. He could almost hear the gears whirring.
“I’m sorry. Please excuse me,” she said suddenly, and stepped to the side, brushing past him on her way to the elevators.
*****
The strangest sensation moved through Addie when her arm touched the arm of the man in the bar. It was almost like a feeling of familiarity, and it set off the psychic feelers in her head. She slowed as she passed him, and even glanced at him over her shoulder. He was watching her still, with those vivid green eyes.
A vision overtook her.
At once, her surroundings vanished, to be replaced by images. They flashed through her mind. Horrible flashes, each filled to the brim with death, passed one after another across the screen of her consciousness. She saw a hillside covered in crosses where men and women were left hanging to die. She watched battles with spears and shields, where warriors ran over the corpses of the fallen to attack or get away. Then further back… a medieval war of stones and boiling oil, slaves in chains, their faces pale and gaunt, their expressions hopeless. Further back… dark caverns somewhere time had forgotten, superstition and fire playing shadows across the rock walls. Two men met in ancient battle, a roar of rage and desperation filling the network of caverns, and shaking stalactites free from the ceiling.
And then Addie was standing in the lobby again, halfway between the elevators and the green-eyed stranger, and she had to tell herself to breathe.
Who the hell are you? she thought helplessly. Her mind spun and her heart hammered. But reality was still there, pressing like a thorn in her side, urging her to move her feet and hide her face.
She turned away from him again, but noticed that this time, it was difficult, as if he’d captured her in some sort of tractor beam and she was ripping free of it. But all of her inner alarm bells were already sounding, so this detail went on a backburner. She picked up her pace toward the elevators ahead, her gaze trained on the sliding metal doors.
They were closing, and she felt desperate. “Hold the doors, please!” she called ahead. Suddenly, a man’s hand slammed down on the side of the door, holding it open. She caught the flash of a shining wristwatch, and the smooth, tailored material of an expensive suit, and then she was half-running onto the elevator through the space between the doors.
The doors were released behind her, and she turned to face her savior. “Thank you so much; I didn’t think I was… going….” Her voice trailed off.
This is impossible.
There was a beat before either of them spoke. Then the man gave her a killer smile. “It’s not a problem.”
They were the same words the Englishman had spoken, which added to the surreal, because he looked exactly like the Englishman. Exactly like him! The only difference between them was that the man behind her had possessed green eyes, and the man in the elevator possessed gray.
They could have been twins. However, this man’s accent hinted at Irish origins. She would recognize that beautiful lilt anywhere. Her father had been Irish.
“In fact,” he said, and she felt the world tilt under her feet and the air go out of the space around her. “It’s my pleasure.”