Heart of Darkness (16 page)

“You don't look or act like a fairy to me!”
Wolfe said with a snort.

Well, that was charming! Wasn't it?

“I thought the sidhe...well, were banished
underground by the Milesians?” she asked as she attempted to recall
all she had read about the Sidhe.

When the Milesians had attempted to invade
early Ireland and conquer the Sidhe's ancestors, they had battled
and won. They had forced the Sidhe to live underground, as they
lived above. Sidhe loosely translated to 'people of the
mounds.'

“Why do you think we live in obscure places!
Your original home was well hidden and off the beaten track, as was
the manor house in Yorkshire. We hide, my dear, in plain
sight.”

“My parents moved from Norwilthton, because
they were discovered?”

“Yes.”

She tried to gather together her thoughts and
wondered if the Milesians, not content with forcing the Sidhe
underground, still had a vendetta against her new-found people.
After all, from what she could recall, her ancestors had attempted
to trick the Milesians and had gone against their word. The three
kings of the Tuatha De Danann had called for a truce and whilst the
Milesians had agreed, the kings had created a magical storm to
drive the invaders away. They had broken their word and had paid
the consequences.

Inwardly, she sighed with relief at her
excellent memory, for Wolfe was hardly outspoken as he explained
the situation to her!

“Milesians...killed my parents?”

“Yes. Well, their descendants did. We
live in constant danger. It is unusual for our enemies to attack
those of us who are so prominent in society. Unfortunately, the
move your parents made took them even further into obscurity and
the
ton
forgot them. Always
dangerous when hiding in plain sight, I'm afraid.

“The majority of the Milesians' descendants
don't give a damn about us. They lead their lives and we ours. But,
as ever, there is a group who wish to punish the sidhe for our
ancestor's broken promises. Rather extreme, I know, but they're
still smarting about it to this day.”

Staring down at her hands, Isabeau realized
that the perpetrators of her parents' murders were old enemies and
as Wolfe said, held a grudge for a very, very, very long time. And
they weren't just seeking to kill her parents or herself, but her
entire, new-found, race.

“Is this what you need my help with?”

“No. This problem is not new. We have dealt
with the Milesians for thousands of years and will continue until
the end of time. It is a long battle and one that neither side wins
or loses.”

“Then what
is
the problem?”

He sighed and spun around to face her.

“Are you a...vampyre?” she asked
hesitantly.

Wolfe laughed, but it wasn't a pleasant
sound. “Is that what you think? You know nothing of what I am, for
you know nothing of what
you
are.” He licked his lips and shrugged. The gesture was jerky
and not smooth as it should have been. It told her more than
anything of his discomfort.

Striding forwards, he crouched before her and
opened up his hand and placed it on her knee. Unthinkingly, she
reached forward and picked it, curling her own fingers about
his.

“I am your very opposite. A sidhe of the
dark. I am not undead. But where you flourish in light, I flourish
in the dark.”

“In what way...flourish?” she asked
curiously.

His head tilted to one side as he studied
her. There was an expression of surprise on his face that puzzled
her. Perhaps her reaction had perplexed him. Perhaps he'd expected
her to rush from the room and start sobbing.

“In the dark of the night, I can see as
well as you can see through the day. I can hear the rush of your
blood through your veins and hear the slow beat-bum-beat of your
heart. I can feel your heart speed when I touch you. By day...By
day...I am.” He looked away and pushed out a breath. “I am tired of
being a monster. My temper is voracious and I'm a danger to society
if I do not sleep through the hours of the sun. You have the gift
of healing. You can
and
will
heal me if you want your freedom.”

His hand made to pull away from hers, but she
kept her fingers clenched tightly about his.

“If it is in your blood, then there is naught
I can do. Your blood is your enemy if that is the case. The very
imprint of your being is your illness. Injuries, pain, aches, these
are things I can cure. I cannot change the very imprint of your
soul.”

“It is not of my blood. I was created.”

“The dream?” she breathed.

He nodded curtly.

The men in black robes had killed his parents
and taken him away.

“Those men...were they not Milesians?”

Another curt nod. “Yes, but these were sicker
than most. They...they had other children such as me and ran
experiments on us. I was once as you were. A sidhe of the light.
They experimented upon the boundaries of our magic and attempted to
change us. In my case, I was fortunate. I did not die.”

“What did they do to change you?”

“Kept me away from the sun for two full
years. By the time, I'd calculated a way to escape, a way to return
to this place, it was too late.”

Isabeau felt sympathy and a desire, nay, a
need to help flood her soul.

“What happened to your parents?” she asked
quietly.

“My parents were of the Sidhe and met
at a ball in London. Where my father fell heart and soul in love
with my mother, the feeling was not reciprocated. My father was not
a man to be beaten. He was older than mother, by fifteen years and
although his family,
my
family, had ancestral wealth, his business acumen had almost
trebled it. My mother's parents were not so intelligent in the
field of business. Effectively, he purchased her and paid off her
parents' debts.

“During the first years of their
marriage, they lived in London and were safe from the Milesians, as
they led a life centered about the
ton.
When I was conceived, they came here for her
confinement and they stayed. Like your own, that was their
downfall. A child...should...be taught of the Sidhe ways from
childbirth, that was one of their reasons for staying, of the
little I know, that is the truth.”

“I'm so sorry, Wolfe,” she whispered
huskily.

His head shot up and spying the crystal drops
at the corner of her eyes, he half-smiled. “We have formed a bond,
you and I. It is unexpected. I never imagined it would occur, but
we have...” Holding up a hand to stall any interruptions, he
continued, “I think the ring helped create to build upon something
that was already there. Have you ever seen into someone else's
dream before?”

She shook her head.

“That's promising.” He slipped his other hand
atop her shoulder and traced the curve of throat with his
fingers.

“I-I have to be honest, Wolfe. I wouldn't
even know how to go about curing you. It's not that I wouldn't be
willing to try...it's just I-I have no idea about the depths of my
power. I truly don't.”

“Remember that legend I told you about? The
one about your ring...?”

She nodded and gulped a little.

The sensation of his callused fingers against
her sensitive skin had her stomach quivering madly. How could such
a simple touch mesmerize her so? Perhaps there was something behind
his words. Perhaps there was actually a bond between them. He was
correct that a bond had been forged between the two of them.

The repercussions of such a bond were...well,
with her brain already weighed down by his recent revelations,
adding this to the mixture was just constipating her thought
processes!

“There is an addendum to it.” He closed his
eyes and she could tell he was about to verse something
verbatim.

“The midnight ring belongs to the vivacity of
light.

The light can only be held by one whose heart
is pure.

Magic lies and twists. Corrupts.

One luminescent soul who can yield the
Cimmerian power and purify it.

Cleanse it of misdeed.

Can hope for those dwellers of the shadows
bring.

Love brings freedom.

Love turns the black of dark to the shining
gold of light.

One pure soul, one pure heart, one pure love
fuses another life and shall darkness turn.

Til light becomes haven and dark the peaceful
harbinger of sleep.”

“What does that mean?” she asked huskily.
While she'd understood the words, the meaning behind them was far
too complicated for her addled wits to comprehend.

His eyes opened slowly and she was blasted
with his stormy gaze.

“A child of our union would cleanse my spirit
and powers.”

“A child?” she gasped, her voice hoarse. “But
what of the legend's mention of love? Does that count for
naught?”

He shook his head. “Many people seek
you, Isabeau. You have the capability to bring those like me who
long for the pure gold of light and dwell in the shadows. Love...in
the legend, is in the physical sense. Your soul, your heart and
your
physical
love can fuse
another life and darkness turn. I beg of you, Isabeau, help
me.”

Her mouth was slightly agape as she
watched this strong man debase himself before her. The prospect of
carrying his child was no evil. It was more of a temptation than
anything else. Fear simmered inside, because with that child,
with
physical
love came a
heartfelt love and she was already on the verge of tumbling into
something that had no cure.

But what could she do? Say no?

How could she?

This man, this poor, poor man, had been
tortured. A man of her own race had been irreversibly altered. But
there were many more out there like him, he had said. Would she
want to carry their children as well?

Inwardly, she shook her head.

Because it was Wolfe, she could do it.

Because it was he, she would free him if it
was within her power.

And by the time she carried the babe and he
was cast free from his curse, then she could leave. Before loving
him and not receiving that emotion in kind turned her heart to
ashes and she had naught but his child for comfort.

Chapter Seven

Isabeau faced Wolfe with quavering lips and
anguished eyes.

“Who is this Jaegar? Why does he seek me? Am
I in danger from him?” she asked quietly, but there was no fear in
her voice.

At first, she had intended to inform him that
she could not say no to him. But for that moment in time, the words
had stuck fast in her throat.

“There were many children taken from their
Sidhe parents. Many deaths.” He closed his eyes. “Far too many. For
such a small bunch of maniacs to create such misery is incredible.”
He pushed out a rough breath. “Jaegar, is one of them. He was taken
like I was and he sent the thief.”

She watched as his jaw tensed and she knew he
was holding something back from her.

“What?” she asked quietly. “What is the
matter?”

He looked up and her eyes were caught on his
clenched fists and stone hard jaw.

“He is my older brother.”

Her brows rose. “Your older brother?”

“Yes. We're not close.” He laughed, but it
was a harsh sound. Not filled with the glee it should have been.
“To say that we're not is simply an understatement.”

“Does he want me for the same reason as you
then?” she asked, her voice quivering as she spoke.

“Yes. My father divorced his first wife. And
although the similarities in appearance between us and our father
belie this, he disowned Jaegar, claiming that he did not believe
that he was of his flesh, but of one of his wife's paramours.”

“That must have made him very bitter.”

Another harsh, almost scornful laugh.
“Bitter? Again, an understatement. I was fortunate, when Jaegar
realized who I was, he did not set against me immediately. But
together we planned to escape. And we did. We were some of the few
who managed to flee. But afterwards, almost as though we were
joined by a common enemy, he turned and ever since, has hated me. I
can understand.” He lifted his hands. “This entire property and my
father's wealth should have been his. But it was entailed to me. I
can't share it. It's not mine to give. Father tied the wealth into
a trust so tight that even had he wanted to do so at a point in the
future, had he not died, he would have been unable to hand out
funds for Jaegar. Although, I doubt that would ever have occurred.
My mother seemed to take all of my father's attentions. There was
no way any thoughts of his other wife would have intruded. My
father was obsessed. Through her, he became obsessed with ensuring
that I was of the right caliber to take his title and lands.”