Darkest Nyte Read online

  Randalph appeared behind him. Nyte spun around and saw the hellish anger on his face. At that moment, Nyte knew what Randalph intended, if not why. But no matter how his inner sense insisted, he could not believe it. Their gazes met and Randalph hesitated an instant.

  The feel of Lucinda’s delicate fingers grazing his arm tore him from the memory. He opened his eyes and met her insistent gaze. She gripped his wrist tightly.

  "Nyte, please. Tell me what happened."

  What happened? If Nyte had chosen to strike out at that moment of hesitation, things would have been different. But doing so without thought would have meant killing Randalph. Nyte could not have done that, even knowing how Randalph had turned on him.

  He touched her cheek and felt the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He didn’t want to shatter her image of Randalph, but her need to know shimmered in the depths of her eyes. He drew on the memory to give him strength.

  Suddenly, he felt himself engulfed in flames. His body melted and his mind fragmented. His thoughts and memories sizzled from the broken shell and quivered, then exploded, ricocheting through time and space.

  "Nyte, what’s wrong?"

  A woman’s insistent words and the feel of gentle hands clutching his shoulders gave him an anchor in the here and now. He opened his eyelids and leaned against the cold metal bedpost for support. Moisture beaded his forehead and clung to his chest. It took a moment to realize where he was, and with whom.

  "My God, you look so pale." Lucinda stroked his cheek. The feel of her soft fingers revived him a little.

  He’d come so close to experiencing the same trauma, to losing himself again. He focused on Lucinda’s features, drawn tight in concern, and drew in a deep breath.

  "Lucinda, Randalph murdered me."

  Chapter 14

  "Rand? Killed you?"

  The words seemed to sit on the outer edges of Lucinda’s brain, refusing to soak in. She stood staring at Nyte, her eyes wide.

  First, Rand had told her Nyte killed Clarissa. Now, Nyte told her Rand killed him. Yet she couldn’t believe either of the two men she cared for so much would kill anyone.

  "He threw a fireball at me, intent on destroying my body," Nyte explained. "I call that murder."

  Nyte stood before her, alive and well now, but if Rand had done what Nyte claimed, before they knew wizards were immortal, his intent would have been murder.

  She couldn’t imagine Rand, her mentor--the man who had taught her the strong ethical code by which she ran her life--taking any human life, let alone that of a friend.

  "No, he couldn’t have."

  He took her hand and drew her close. "Lucinda, I wouldn’t lie to you."

  With him seated on the bed and her standing facing him, she looked down at his clear, onyx gaze. She couldn’t deny what she saw there.

  Nyte would not lie to her.

  The conclusion skittered across her nerve endings, sending her stomach into anxious flutters. Rand must have tried to kill Nyte. She sank onto the bed beside him.

  "Why would he do such a thing?" Her words came out a hoarse whisper.

  He shook his head. "I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that many times since my memory returned."

  She stared at him, certain she hadn’t heard him right.

  "You don’t know?" She pushed herself to her feet and paced. "You mean, he just showed up one day and killed you?"

  "That’s right. I have no idea what triggered his attack."

  He had no idea? She couldn’t imagine Rand striking out at Nyte without making him painfully aware of the reason. Rand had always been very forthcoming. Rand must have assumed Nyte did know.

  And Clarissa must have been the reason.

  She turned toward him. "Could it have ... something to do with ... Clarissa?"

  He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask that?"

  "Well, Rand told me...." She hesitated. How could she possibly tell Nyte about Rand’s awful accusation?

  He stood up and approached her. "He told you what, Lucinda?"

  At her hesitation, he clasped his hands on her shoulders in a gentle but firm hold. "I really need to know."

  She nodded, then exhaled deeply. "He told me you killed Clarissa."

  His eyebrows arched upward. "What? That’s crazy."

  Lucinda’s comment stunned Nyte. Why would Randalph think such a thing? He knew how close Nyte and Clarissa had been.

  Or had Randalph lied to Lucinda in a further attempt to turn her against him? He had certainly been doing his best to do so ever since Nyte had arrived. His fists clenched at his sides. But why? Why did Randalph hate him so?

  A driving need to find Randalph tore through him. He needed answers to the disturbing questions pummeling his insides.

  "Lucinda, I must go." He strode toward the door and yanked it open.

  She scurried after him. "Are you going to confront Rand?"

  "I’m going to talk to him."

  He took the stairs two at a time and she did her best to keep up with him. In the living room, he conjured himself into some clothes--a black outfit with high boots and a long cape. He then zapped a fire in the fireplace and materialized a tray with a full breakfast of bacon and eggs plus all the trimmings on the round, glass coffee table.

  She noticed the strips of bacon were crisp, but not black like the first breakfast she had cooked him. She raised her eyebrows. I guess he didn’t really believe I like it that way.

  He took her elbow and guided her to the couch but she crossed her arms and refused to sit down.

  "You’ll be comfortable here until I get back."

  He spun away, the long black cape he wore swirling around his legs, and strode toward the open space in front of the window.

  "I’m going with you," she said in a tight voice.

  He turned back to face her. "No, you’re not."

  She planted her hands on her hips. "I’m not going to leave you and Rand together alone. I’m coming."

  His gaze turned dark and uncompromising. "And I said you’re not."

  He swirled his arm and disappeared. She raced upstairs and dragged on her clothes, then concentrated on Rand’s living room. She summoned her energy and pushed through space.

  Or, at least, tried to. But nothing happened.

  A sinking feeling washed through her, but she tried again.

  Nothing happened.

  Her chest tightened painfully as the realization set in.

  Nyte still held her prisoner.

  * * * *

  Rand held the soapstone sculpture of a seal Lucinda had given him several years ago as a Christmas present. The cold, smooth stone sliding against his palm helped soothe his chaotic mood. She had told him the more he held it, the shinier it would become, because of the oil from his skin.

  Luce liked that kind of thing. Stones. Crystals. Natural things. Handmade things.

  She liked comfort. In her surroundings and in her clothes. She also liked things that weren’t good for her.

  Like chocolate.

  Like Nyte.

  Smooth. Seductive. Dangerous to her health.

  A surge of frustration jolted through him and he plunked the sculpture onto the mantel. Where in blazes was she?

  He’d been trying to contact her for two days. Ever since she’d been dragged from his arms. He’d tried to pull her back immediately but had failed. Of course, he knew exactly who had interfered.

  A bell rang.

  It was not the hearty sound of his doorbell, but a vibrant bong inside his head. The sound dragged him back more than a millennium into the past. It was the sound wizards had used long ago to announce their presence at another wizard’s dwelling.

  He tugged open the door and glared at the imposing figure standing on the other side.

  Nyte.

  Dressed exactly as he had been the last time Rand had seen him, before his advance into the present. When Rand had flung a fireball at him and ceased his existence. Temporarily as it turned out.
r />   Long black cape. Black leather armor over black breeches. High black boots. A sword slung at his hip.

  "Randalph, I have my memory back," Nyte said.

  Rand nodded. "I know."

  "We have things to discuss. May I come in?"

  Rand’s chest compressed painfully and he felt as though a massive hand clutched his throat and tightened mercilessly, choking any words he might utter. He stared at the man he both hated and loved.

  He didn’t want to let him in. He represented too much pain. Too much guilt. He wanted to shut Nyte out forever. Because facing Nyte meant facing his own worst nightmare.

  The temptation to slam the door in Nyte’s face rushed through him, but he knew it would only be putting off the inevitable. Eventually, he would have to face him.

  He sighed deeply and pushed the door open, then turned away and strode toward the fireplace on the other side of the room.

  "I’ll take that as a yes," said Nyte.

  Rand heard the door close, then a moment later, felt Nyte’s presence behind him. Strong. Overwhelming in his sense of authority.

  Well, he would not cower. He swung around to face Nyte.

  "What do you want?"

  Nyte stood tall, hands on hips, staring at him with coal black eyes, his expression the one that had shattered Rand’s composure many times in the past.

  But not today.

  "I want to know why you killed me." Nyte stated it flatly. No inflection. No accusation. Merely a request for information.

  Violent anger boiled up in Rand. How dare he come in here and ask that question as if he had no idea why?

  "You can ask that? After what you did?"

  The patience of Nyte’s expression waned. Not obviously so, but Rand noticed the slight tensing of his jaw, the small tightening of the line of his mouth. Rand had had much practice learning how to recognize the signs.

  "What exactly did I do?" Nyte demanded.

  Rand’s fists clenched and he strode across the room and back again, then slammed his fist on the fireplace mantel. The memory of Clarissa’s angelic face, her loving smile glowing warmly, fluttered through his mind, quickly replaced by the charred remains of the room in which he had last seen her.

  Another vivid image exploded into Rand’s brain, of Nyte sending a current of raw power straight at Clarissa. After she’d disintegrated, Nyte had thrust a huge fireball straight at the location she’d been standing, obliterating half the room.

  Without even thinking, Rand had summoned his own power--fired by the adrenaline rush of seeing a woman he loved so dearly murdered right before his eyes--and flung the same weapon at Nyte. Nyte had turned toward Rand just before he had let go of the ball of molten energy.

  Nyte could have shielded himself, he’d seen what Rand intended in time, but the look of total disbelief on his face showed that he had not protected himself because he could not believe Rand would do such a thing.

  Rand had been lucky to catch him off guard as he had. There was no way he would have won a fight against Nyte in any other circumstances. But later, as he’d stood staring at the charred remains of the familiar dwelling--the place he had once called home--he had been hit with overwhelming grief at having lost the two most important people in his life.

  The look on Nyte’s face--the riveting pain at Rand’s betrayal--had haunted the darkness behind his eyes ever since that day.

  Nyte had suffered the pain for less than a week of his time. Rand had endured it for almost thirteen centuries.

  He stared at his own reflection in one of the shiny silver tankards on the mantel. His features had grown old again. It seemed he couldn’t maintain his youth under the weight of his pain.

  Beside his face Rand saw Nyte’s as he quietly awaited an answer. But the cold look in his eyes sent familiar tremors through Rand.

  Could it be that Nyte did not know he had seen him kill Clarissa? Anger blazed through him and his hands clenched around the oak edge of the mantel.

  He should tell him. He must tell him.

  It would do him good to finally purge the violent emotions. To finally confront Clarissa’s murderer.

  To finally ask why Nyte had done it.

  But a blinding wave of panic washed through him at the thought.

  "Randalph, I need you to tell me--"

  The feel of Nyte’s hand brushing his shoulder acted like a live wire, jolting Rand a few steps sideways.

  His hand brushed against the soapstone sculpture and concern arced within him for another person who sparked deep feelings in his soul. Would Nyte steal her, too?

  He swung around to face his nemesis.

  "Where is Lucinda?"

  "That has nothing to do with our discussion."

  "I have been trying to contact her for two days," Rand roared. "I know very well you stole her away. What have you done with her?" He summoned his most authoritative presence and strode toward Nyte. "If you’ve hurt her--"

  Nyte raised a hand. "Your protectiveness is admirable, but she is safe."

  "Then where is she?" He flung his hands out at his sides. "I can’t sense her at all."

  Nyte folded his arms across his chest. "I have protected her from you and your prying."

  Protected? An alarming thought sliced through him. "You know, Lucinda isn’t like the women you’re used to dealing with. She’s very independent. And determined. If you’ve done anything foolish like--"

  "Foolish!" Nyte’s voice boomed through the room. His arms fell to his sides, fists clenched tightly.

  "--locked her away somewhere, she won’t stand for it."

  The tight balls of his fists loosened fractionally. "I felt it necessary to confine her, otherwise she would have followed me here and we would not have been able to discuss these matters freely."

  "You’ve locked her up somewhere? Don’t you realize she’ll do whatever it takes to get loose?" He paused, letting the effect of his words sink in. "Even if escape is impossible."

  Nyte stared at Randalph, the words nudging him in the gut. His little one was determined, he knew that, but surely if she felt it necessary to escape, she would make a few attempts, then give up and wait for him to return. She was sensible. Surely she would realize that continuous attempts to fight the protective shield would drain her energy. When she’d tried the first night, she’d tired and gone to sleep.

  Of course, now she’d had a full night’s sleep. And she had a large stake in what happened between him and Randalph.

  Memories of her fierce determination to escape last night blazed through him. Did he actually believe she’d sit in a docile fashion awaiting his return?

  He remembered the fire in her eyes when he’d left to come here.

  He turned his inner senses to the house on the ocean, where he had held Lucinda in his arms and lost himself in her love. What he felt set his stomach churning. Apprehension gnawed at his gut.

  * * * *

  Lucinda had tried every method of escape she could think of. Every doorway, window, and any other passage that led outdoors. Doing a reverse Santa Claus up the chimney left her sooty and frustrated. Doing an imitation of a genie by turning into smoke to escape through the dryer air exchange vent didn’t work. Nor did changing into an ant and trying to squeeze through a crack in the outer wall.

  She tapped her foot as she glanced around the living room searching for some new idea. Outside the large picture window, the spectacular view of the ocean glittering beyond an expanse of white sand captured her attention. Such a beautiful prison, but a prison all the same.

  Tears threatened. It frightened her that anyone had so much power over her, let alone Nyte, who loved her, yet refused to respect her right to free will.

  She could not stand being helpless.

  Helpless? Wake up, girl. You’re only as helpless as you allow yourself to be.

  Stiffening her back, she stood up straighter. She was not helpless. Nyte might be strong, but she was a powerful wizard in her own right. All she needed to do was belie
ve in herself enough. Over the past half hour she had allowed her self-confidence to falter. She had allowed herself to doubt her abilities. That’s why she was having problems. All she had to do was believe she could escape. Believe it with her very being.

  He might have a very effective barrier spell surrounding this dwelling, but she had determination and a wealth of magical skill at her disposal. Her gaze settled on a purple sphere sitting on a stand in a light oak bookshelf across the room. She strode toward it.

  An amethyst crystal ball about the size of her fist.

  She ran her hands across the surface. Cold. Smooth. Emanating power.

  This would help boost her magic so she could escape this place. Using this crystal to augment her power, she would use brute force to break through the bonds of energy Nyte had erected around the house.

  She grasped the ball in her hands and lifted it from the stand.

  * * * *

  Nyte transported to the living room of his house and his heart beat frantically as he saw Lucinda drop to her knees. He could feel energy surge from her in a torrent of ineffective waves, sucked into the energy barrier like lightning to the ground.

  And with it, her life force.

  She should have collapsed in exhaustion by now, but she held his power sphere in her hands. With that crystal, she would be able to withstand the drain for longer than would be good for her. She could seriously injure herself, maybe even lose enough energy so she could no longer maintain her physical shape. If that happened, she would disappear from the physical realm, rolling on the waves of time like a cork on the ocean, bounced to who-knew-where. Eventually, her body would regenerate--unless her mind became too fragmented. It was not technically death, but it might as well be.

  "Lucinda, stop this at once. You’ll do yourself harm."

  She glanced at him, her eyes glazed. Barely a spark of fire burned in their depths.