Darkest Nyte Page 23

  Nyte didn’t have to think hard. The argument with Clarissa had been etched into his brain. Argument? Hell, it was a fight explosive enough to light up the night sky. And afterward, in his rage....

  An image of the fireball he’d hurled in anger whizzed through his brain. He’d stared at the ruined remains of the room for long moments, the pain of Clarissa’s rejection burning through him. He didn’t know how long he’d stood there, but he remembered turning around and seeing Randalph standing behind him. But Randalph hadn’t known about the argument. He’d arrived much later.

  Hadn’t he?

  Tendrils of doubt coiled through his mind. How long had Randalph been there?

  "He saw enough to believe you killed her," Remlin said.

  The words acted like a fist in the gut, knocking the wind from him. He slumped onto a chair, his legs suddenly rubbery.

  He shook his head. "How could Randalph think I would hurt her? He knew me better than that."

  Remlin’s eyebrows arched up. "Did he?"

  His gaze shot to Remlin’s. "What do you mean by that?"

  Remlin leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Don’t you realize how hard you were on him? How demanding?"

  He curled his fingers over his knees. "That was only because I knew what a fine wizard he would be someday. I had to push him. It was for his own good."

  "But it had its price."

  Nyte sat up straight, his back rigid. "And that was?"

  "He never got close to you."

  He locked gazes with Remlin. "Are you saying I failed him?"

  Remlin waved the comment away. "No, of course not. But I think you will if you don’t reach out to him now."

  Nyte slammed his hands flat on his thighs in disbelief, then pushed himself to his feet. "Reach out to him? Have you forgotten he tried to kill me?" He stepped to the fireplace, then leaned against the mantel and stared into the hot, orange flames. Like the fireball Randalph had hurled at him. He could almost feel the heat consuming his body.

  "Rand was young, his emotions turbulent." Remlin stepped beside Nyte. "He reacted. Don’t condemn him for that." His hand settled on Nyte’s shoulder. "Believe me, he’s suffered because of it. It’s time to put an end to the pain."

  Suffered? Nyte remembered the bitter cold he’d felt surrounding Randalph’s heart and knew it to be true. Remlin had done well with that. He’d forced Nyte to come face to face with Randalph’s pain.

  Remlin’s fingers curled around his shoulder. "As for him closing you out, think about it. The whole situation was very traumatic for him, but everything that happened, except for one thing, was beyond his control." Remlin held up one finger in emphasis. "Only one thing was his fault."

  Nyte shifted his gaze to Remlin’s. "Striking out at me."

  "Exactly. And he’s had to live with that. Centuries of fending off the terrible guilt. The only thing justifying it in his mind was the fact you had murdered Clarissa. Imagine what it would do to him if he gave you the chance to explain, and you actually have a good reason for what you did." Remlin shook his head. "There’s no way he could risk opening up to you."

  Remlin’s words drew a vision of Randalph, blocked behind a self-imposed barrier. If Nyte broke it down, he risked Randalph’s sanity. Yet, he couldn’t leave Randalph alone behind an impenetrable wall of glass.

  "What do you suggest?"

  Remlin squeezed Nyte’s shoulder. "He has to know you forgive him."

  "And how do I convince him of that?"

  Remlin shrugged. "Tell him."

  It sounded so simple, Nyte wasn’t sure it would work. And yet, he knew it was the only thing that could.

  At least it was an approach. It would be better than stumbling around the problem as he’d been doing so far.

  Nyte stared into Remlin’s green eyes for a long moment. He couldn’t believe Remlin was the one standing here giving him advice. His heart warmed at the thought Remlin had turned himself around. He’d matured a lot since the last time Nyte had seen him. He had finally taken responsibility for his actions, and he’d put a lot of thought and effort into bringing Rand and Nyte together again.

  Nyte did something he never thought he’d do again. He offered his hand to Remlin.

  "Thank you."

  Remlin clasped Nyte’s hand firmly, a smile spreading across his face.

  "Before I forgive Randalph, maybe I should get in a little practice," Nyte said. "Earlier, you said you came to apologize." Nyte squeezed Remlin’s hand. "I accept your apology, Remlin... and I forgive you."

  Remlin’s smile broke into a wide grin, showing a row of even white teeth. He threw his arms around Nyte and slapped his back. Poignant emotions surged through Nyte as he enjoyed the first expression of warmth he had shared with Remlin since late adolescence.

  It felt good.

  When they separated, Nyte returned Remlin’s warm smile.

  "Do you know where Randalph is?"

  "Yes, you’ll find him at home."

  Nyte nodded. "Fine. I’ll let you know the outcome."

  He raised his arms, ready to transport.

  "Before you go, Nyte, how is Lucinda?"

  Nyte remembered how she had exercised her uniquely feminine abilities last night to get exactly what she wanted--to his total delight.

  "She’s recovering nicely. A bit more bed rest and she’ll be fine."

  Remlin chuckled. "If you actually let her rest. You know, you’ve been paired with an extraordinary woman."

  Nyte nodded. "I know that. Very stubborn, but well worth the frustration."

  Remlin leaned against the arm of the chair. "She was pretty weak. Do you think you should have left her alone?"

  His eyebrows arched up. "You aren’t offering to go sit with her, are you? I’d have a lot of explaining to do if I sent you there."

  A gleam appeared in Remlin’s eyes. "There is another alternative."

  Chapter 20

  Nyte approached the clearing of trees quietly, watching the silhouette of a figure sitting by the wishing well. Randalph. His powder white hair cascaded past his shoulders, which seemed to sag as he leaned forward, his chin resting on his fist in the classic thinker’s pose.

  A hush hung over the glade, as if nature’s creatures didn’t want to disturb Randalph while he struggled with his thoughts. Not total silence, but soft cushioned sounds: a gentle breeze wafting through the trees, the trickling of water though a nearby stream, and the occasional warbling of a dove.

  Nyte stood silent for a moment, loath to disturb the serenity of the scene. As he opened himself to the tranquility, Randalph’s heightened energy battered against him--a distressing mix of anguish and guilt. Clearly, Randalph’s mood was anything but peaceful.

  Nyte picked up a leaf from the ground and twirled the stem between his fingers.

  "Randalph. It’s time we talked."

  Randalph turned toward him, his blue eyes hollow, his cheeks drawn.

  "Why did you leave me alone?" His voice trembled with emotions long suppressed.

  A haunting ache started within him at the knowledge Randalph had been alone for thirteen centuries. Whether the question referred to that, or his leaving Randalph alone at Remlin’s, Nyte didn’t know.

  "I had to protect Lucinda. And I knew you could take care of yourself."

  "Like I have all these centuries." The quiet words joined with the rustling of the leaves and echoed through the trees, surrounding Nyte with a sense of Rand’s loneliness. A pain that burrowed deep like the roots of the trees, and like those roots, affected the foundation of his whole life.

  He stepped closer. "I didn’t want to leave you."

  Randalph pushed himself to his feet and strolled across the clearing to a path that led deeper into the woods.

  "I spoke with Remlin and he told me a great many things."

  "Like what?" Nyte followed him. Trees arched over them, blocking the sunlight, surrounding them in a gentle, shadowed world filled with the quiet whispers of nature.
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  "Wild things. Unbelievable things."

  Randalph pushed aside a low hanging branch. He continued wandering deeper into the forest, as though searching for something. A grounding of some sort perhaps. Nyte could well imagine the things Remlin had told him, things that would skew Randalph’s whole view of reality. He would need something to cling to. Something to remind him of the solidity of his existence.

  "Did you believe them?"

  He slowed his pace a fraction. "I don’t know." Confusion churned through his quiet words.

  More than ever Randalph needed someone to talk to. Someone to provide guidance. Nyte felt an aching need to be that person.

  And he should be. It was the way it was meant to be.

  But for now he had to focus on his purpose.

  "What did he tell you about Clarissa?"

  Randalph stopped walking. "He told me he and Clarissa... That they... His eyes fell closed and he leaned against a tree. "How could she do that? To me?" He opened his eyes and quickly blinked away a glaze of moisture. "To us?"

  He wanted to reach out to Randalph, to touch him in a fatherly way, with love and reassurance, but Randalph wasn’t ready for that. His fingers slid around Nyte’s wrist and clamped tight like an iron manacle.

  "It’s not true, is it?" Randalph’s gaze bored into Nyte, pleading with him to deny the fact that Clarissa had had an affair with Remlin.

  How could Nyte hurt him more by confirming her betrayal? And yet lying would only make matters worse.

  He gave in to the impulse to rest his hand on Randalph’s shoulder. "I’m sorry, Randalph, I--"

  Randalph’s eyes blazed with anger and he flung Nyte’s hand away. "No! I don’t believe you." He spun around and strode further down the path. Into darker shadows.

  "I’m sure you want me to believe she chose to leave, too," Randalph declared. "To go to some other world." He spun back to face Nyte. "But I know that isn’t true. You killed her."

  Nyte steadied himself against the inner turmoil Randalph’s words evoked. Now that he finally stood accused, they could face the matter, and get past it.

  Nyte shook his head. "No, I didn’t."

  Burning emotions raged through him as he remembered trying desperately to talk Clarissa out of leaving, but she wouldn’t listen. She had walked away without a thought as to the pain she would inflict on the men who loved her.

  Randalph turned to him with shimmering eyes. "I saw you kill her."

  The anger and hatred in Randalph’s eyes burned through Nyte’s soul. Remlin had done well to explain what had happened before Nyte arrived, to allow the facts to simmer in Randalph’s brain, but Nyte knew, no matter what explanation Randalph had been given, he would not easily give up the belief he’d clung to for so long.

  Nyte had to focus Randalph on the important point, the reason he’d come here today.

  "This isn’t about whether I killed Clarissa or not. I can prove I didn’t."

  He paused a moment to let his words sink in. Randalph raised his head and gaped at Nyte with a startled look of disbelief.

  "This is about what you did," Nyte continued. "You killed me."

  Anguish streaked across Randalph’s face. "I ... couldn’t help it. You killed her and I...."

  Randalph slammed his hand against a tree. The haunting, dismal look in his eyes gave Nyte a brief glimpse into the dark recesses of his soul.

  "Damn it. What did you expect?" Randalph’s fingers clenched into tight fists. "You killed my mother."

  Nyte stepped toward him. "Randalph, you killed me, and I forgive you."

  A flicker of confusion sparked in Randalph’s eyes before he shuttered them behind a glare. "I don’t want your forgiveness."

  Nyte continued forward, determined to get through to Randalph. "I forgive you."

  Randalph’s back stiffened and his gaze clashed with Nyte’s. "You have no right."

  Clearly, Nyte’s steady progress closer unnerved Randalph. His bravado started to crumble and he backed away.

  "I forgive you." Nyte’s words, steady and confident, filled the void between them.

  Randalph shook his head and backed against a tree, his eyes glazing. Agitation radiated from him. He was like an animal backed into a corner.

  "I forgive you." Warmth shimmered through his words. He had resolved to make Randalph come to terms with his guilt. And conquer it.

  As Nyte moved within an arm’s length of him, Randalph’s eyes blazed with violent emotions.

  "No, you--" He shook his head and spoke in barely audible words, "You can’t." His voice broke.

  "I forgive you." Nyte clasped his arms around Randalph. He remained stiff in Nyte’s embrace, but Nyte hugged him tighter, willing him to lower his barriers. "I forgive you, son," he murmured, "because I love you."

  Rand shuddered, then collapsed against Nyte, his whole body shaking.

  Conflicting emotions skewered Nyte’s heart as he held his son in his arms for the first time in over a millennium. The most intense was joy at finally breaking through to him.

  "And now," Nyte said, his voice barely a whisper, "you need to forgive yourself."

  * * * *

  Lucinda padded into the kitchen and tugged open the fridge. Orange juice was all she could find to drink.

  Well, it wasn’t diet Coke but it would have to do.

  She pulled out the pitcher and poured herself a glass. After a thorough exploration, she settled on the granola she found in one of the cupboards. As she sat at the table and poured the cereal into a bowl, the tinkling noise reminded her of the sound of Merlin’s hard food when she poured it into his dish.

  Merlin! He hadn’t been fed in days.

  She couldn’t just leave the little critter to starve to death. On the other hand, she’d promised Nyte she wouldn’t leave the house.

  With any luck, Nyte wouldn’t be too long.

  She consoled herself with the thought that Merlin had lots of water available and he could probably last a week without food. She ignored the thought that he’d probably go hunting for something to eat long before then.

  Heaven help the sparrows.

  If Nyte returned in the next couple of hours, her feathered friends might be spared.

  She hoped Nyte would return long before that. She’d spent the last hour worrying, finally coming into the kitchen to do something about the empty rumblings in her own stomach.

  If Nyte didn’t return soon, she’d go crazy with apprehension. If anything happened to him, especially now that she’d experienced the joy of his love, she didn’t know how she’d cope. Making love with Nyte had opened up a part of her she’d kept hidden for a long time--a vulnerable part that allowed her to let someone into her heart.

  How would she survive living an eternity without him?

  She heard a scratching at the door and glanced up in time to see a black, triangular face topped by two pointed ears appear through a small flap in the back door.

  "Mrreow."

  "Merlin!" Pleasure zipped through her at the sight of the little critter.

  He pushed through the flap and sauntered across the room. He glanced around, as though looking for his dish, then sat in the middle of the floor, a tall, proud statue, staring at her.

  Nyte must have sent Merlin to her. What a sweet gesture. He must have known she’d be lonely, and that she’d be worried about her cat.

  Relief trickled through her. If he was able to send Merlin, he must still be safe.

  She leaped to her feet and grabbed the feline, then hugged him to her chest. "I’m so sorry, fella. You must be hungry."

  Totally unlike Merlin, he put up with her hugging for a minute or more before he murred, then wriggled in search of freedom. She loosened her hold and he leaped to the floor.

  "I know you don’t like displays of affection, but I missed you. I can’t help it."

  He rubbed against her legs and purred loudly. She smiled broadly.

  "You missed me, too, didn’t you?"

  She walked
to the cupboard and searched for something to feed him. Tuna would do nicely, she thought, as she pulled out a stubby can. She opened it and dumped the contents onto a dinner plate, liquid and all.

  She placed it in front of him, then filled a bowl with fresh water.

  Surprisingly, he sniffed at the tuna, but ate very little.

  She crouched down and petted him. She’d forgotten how silky his shiny black coat felt. Ever since Nyte came into her life, she’d shamelessly ignored Merlin. Well, not ignored exactly. In fact, it was more like Merlin had ignored her. He had spent every minute he could with Nyte.

  But she wouldn’t dwell on that now. She was glad Merlin liked him. After all, Nyte would be a part of her life for a very long time.

  Assuming, of course, that he did return.

  She sat back down in her chair.

  "You know, Mer, Nyte’s gone off to save Rand from some wretched wizard named Remlin."

  Merlin glanced up from his bowl and stared at her, his tail straight as a flagpole.

  "I’m really worried about him."

  Merlin leaped onto her lap and nuzzled her hand. She petted him and he purred contentedly. At the feel of his warm fur rippling under her hand and the slight vibration rumbling through him, some of the tension eased from her shoulders. Did cats know how soothing their presence was?

  "I don’t know what Remlin has in mind, but I think he’s dangerous." She wrapped her hands around Merlin and lifted him to face her. "Merlin, I might never see Nyte again."

  As she stared into his eyes, a storm of emotion chilled through her.

  Merlin stared back. Big, green eyes. The color of peridot. Glittering. Roguish. With a knowing gleam.

  Just like Remlin’s.

  Suddenly, the similarity in names struck her. Remlin. Merlin.

  Her insides started to churn.

  Her head shook back and forth of its own accord.

  "No. You can’t be."

  The cat seemed to smile.

  She plunked him on the floor and backed away.

  "You can’t." Her voice held an edge of panic.

  The small, black body began to transform, expanding, stretching longer, then pushing to an upright position.