Wicked Highlander

Twenty-three

Isla’s gut churned with bile, but she dared not move. She stood still as stone in the chamber Deirdre used to kill Druids and take their magic.

It was a room Isla hated with every fiber of her being. Just being inside it made her skin crawl, but having to watch a Druid die made her want to vomit.

“Dunmore did well, didn’t he?” Deirdre asked her.

Isla nodded, unable to speak. She swallowed and tried not to look at the frightened young Druid strapped to the stone table in the center of the chamber.

Deirdre cocked her head to the side as she regarded the young girl. “Thanks to your sister’s magic, Isla, I no longer have to wait until the spring equinox to find those that I search for. It was so tedious having to wait, especially when I am building an army.”

Isla parted her lips and breathed in through her mouth to stop the nausea that rolled in her stomach.

“It took me too long to realize you, Isla, are stronger than your sister. Aye, Lavena is a seer, but you, you are almost as perfect as the Warriors.”

Isla had heard enough, and though she knew she would be punished again, she didn’t care. “You know I don’t do your bidding willingly.”

“Ah, but you willingly submitted to my command once upon a time. I told you then you would always be mine, Isla. I meant it.”

“Why keep Grania? She was nothing to you, just a little girl.”

Deirdre’s smile vanished as she sneered down at Isla. “I suppose your torture wasn’t enough yesterday. Should I take the lash to you once again for being so insolent?”

Isla turned to face the Druid about to die. “Do as you wish, Deirdre. I care not.”

And that was the truth. Isla had stopped caring. Lavena was no longer her sister, and Grania, dear precious Grania, was no longer the adorable little girl she had loved so dearly. Both her sister and her niece had been corrupted by Deirdre.

Isla understood then what she hadn’t so long ago: that she couldn’t save Lavena or Grania. If only she had known before, she might have saved her own soul. But it was too late now. She was damned to an eternity in Hell, and after suffering under Deidre’s wrath, there was nothing in Hell that could frighten her.

“Now,” Deirdre said as she walked to the Druid on the table. She placed a hand over the girl’s chest and smiled. “For one so young, I sense much magic in you.”

“Please,” the young Druid begged. “Let me go.”

Deidre tucked a strand of her white hair behind her ear. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I need your magic, and in order for me to get your magic, you have to die.”

Isla clasped her hands behind her back as the girl began to cry silent tears. She didn’t beg Deirdre again, however.

“If you want my magic, you’re going to have to force it out of me,” the girl said. “You don’t deserve the magic you were gifted with.”

Deirdre drew in a tired breath. “Enough.”

“Nay, you vicious hag. You will pay for the sins you have committed, and…”

The girl’s words were cut off as Deirdre’s hair wrapped around her neck. “I told you that was enough. I will not listen to your incessant rambling because you are too afraid to die.”

Isla blinked as the Druid began to laugh. No one laughed at Deirdre.

Deirdre’s eyes had lost their blue color and turned white with her black magic narrowed on the young Druid. “I can make this as painful for you as I want.”

“Do it,” the girl rasped.

Isla knew better than to turn away. She had seen too many of her fellow Druids, both drough and mie alike, die on Deirdre’s table. And even though Isla knew what was going to happen, she still flinched when the blade cut into the girl’s wrists.

The slashes were deep and long, and the blood drained quickly from the girl’s veins into the hollowed parts of the table where the blood then spilled into goblets on the floor.

While the blood flowed, Deirdre stood beside the Druid and began to recite the ancient spell. Isla knew the words by heart, the black magic that called up Satan and all his evil.

But every time she saw the black cloud that rose from the center of the table, Isla still had to fight to keep still and not bolt from the room.

The girl screamed, weak though she was from loss of blood. The cloud, an evil spirit from Hell, descended on the Druid. The girl thrashed, her screams echoing around the high-ceilinged chamber as the apparition took her soul.

“I am yours!” Deirdre screamed and plunged the dagger through the spirit into the girl’s stomach.

The ghoul vanished, and the girl’s lifeless eyes stared above her. But the ceremony was far from over.

The two black-veiled servants moved from their corners and collected the goblets that were filled with the Druid’s blood. They carried them to Deirdre where she drained each goblet, licking her lips stained red with blood.

The servants hastily moved back as wind began to howl and swirl around Deirdre as the new magic mixed with hers. She threw back her head, her long white hair lifting above and around her.

“I am unstoppable!” Deirdre yelled.

Deirdre pinned Isla with a look as the wind began to lessen. Without moving a muscle Deirdre had Isla restrained against the wall, her feet dangling off the floor.

Isla wanted to claw at the invisible hand that held her throat, but she kept her hands in her skirts. Fighting Deirdre only made the pain worse.

And no matter how much suffering Deirdre put her through, Isla knew Deirdre wouldn’t kill her. Not yet, anyway. Deirdre had a hold over Isla that she hadn’t been able to duplicate with another since. There was no way she would chance harming Isla.

“I’ve sent the MacClures a message through Dunmore,” Deirdre said.

Isla waited, wondering what Deirdre could possibly want with the MacClures. Isla had no desire to return to that clan. She’d had enough dealings with them when the wyrran had destroyed their village looking for the Druid Cara, who was now mated to Lucan MacLeod.

Of course, it was the MacClures who had taken a large piece of the MacLeod land, land that included the castle the MacLeods claimed as their own.

“I think Fallon and Lucan need something to occupy their time,” Deirdre said.

Isla knew she should keep silent, but she couldn’t help it. “I thought you wanted to capture the MacLeods?”

“Oh, I do. And I will. I want them to suffer first. The MacLeods might have scared the MacClures from their lands, but I will ensure the MacClures have what they need to get their lands back. Once they have what they require, you will stand with the MacClures.”

Isla bit her tongue to keep from speaking again.

Deirdre released the magical hold. Isla’s knees buckled when she hit the floor, but she managed to stay upright by grabbing onto the stones in the wall.

“You have gotten quite audacious recently, Isla. I received information just this morning, and I think I’m going to need you to take a trip.”

Isla’s blood went cold in her veins. She knew what that meant, but she was powerless to fight Deirdre.

Lightning split the room, but it was only Deirdre’s magic. Isla grabbed her head and bit back a scream of pain as Deirdre’s voice boomed in her mind giving her instructions she would be helpless to reject.

No matter how hard Marcail tried, sleep eluded her after the dream about her grandmother. And to make matters worse, Quinn hadn’t come to her.

When she had seen him walk from the cave, she had sat up and leaned to the side. She hadn’t been prepared to see him and Charon speaking, but whatever they were talking about wasn’t good because it was obvious by the way Charon’s face went hard that he was angry.

Marcail watched them for long moments until Quinn returned to stand beside Duncan and Arran. She was curious as to what Quinn had to say to Charon.

She pulled her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She was bored and anxious. Quinn wanted her to stay in the shadows, and though she understood why, she was used to moving about and doing her daily chores. She wasn’t used to sitting for hours upon hours in the dark.

Marcail blew a braid that had fallen into her eyes. Quinn had made her stay in the Pit tolerable, but once he was gone, then what?

I’m liable to go daft.

And that was the truth. As a Druid, the sun, air, and water sustained her. In the darkness and gloom of a mountain filled with the evil and dark magic, it would only be a matter of time before what little magic Marcail had was gone.

Out of the darkness, the strange musical chanting began again. It was so faint she could barely hear it. Marcail cocked her head to the side and closed her eyes.

She concentrated on the chanting, on hearing the words. The more she focused, the louder the music became. She lost herself in the soft, lyrical music, the words washing over her like a summer storm and infusing her soul with magic.

“Marcail?”

Her eyes flew open to find Quinn standing before her, a frown on his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She swallowed, missing the strange chanting. “I am.”

“I’ve been calling your name for some time.”

“I must have fallen asleep.” Even as she said the words, she didn’t believe she had been dreaming. What she experienced was something else entirely.

Quinn squatted down in front of her and took her hands in his. “Charon is Deirdre’s spy, just as you suspected.”

“Is that why you went to speak to him?”

“One of the reasons. He will likely stay away from you for the most part, but doona expect him to aid you in any way no matter what he might say to you.”

“You mean when you’ve gone.” Just saying the words caused a lump to form in her throat. How she wished she didn’t care for Quinn as much as she did. She had lost too many people in her life already. To know she would lose Quinn — again — was just too much.

Quinn sighed and nodded. “I wish I could guarantee that you would be safe, but down here, no one is safe.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Duncan and Arran will be with you always. I’ve told them, and I will tell you, Deirdre willna allow me to return, but be on the lookout for any signs you could escape. It will be quick, and you’ll have to be ready at a moment’s notice.”

She brushed aside a lock of his light brown hair from his eyes. “And you? While we escape, you still think to stay here?”

“Aye.”

The way he said it was so final.

“I know what you would say, and I ask that you doona,” Quinn said. “This is hard enough as it is, and the thought of leaving you here…I don’t like it, Marcail.”

“Whenever I was indecisive about something, my grandmother used to tell me to follow my heart, that it would guide me to do the right thing.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do. For you, for my brothers, for everyone.”

The knot of fear and dread grew in Marcail’s chest until she found it difficult to breath. “And you think by giving Deirdre a child you will be helping us?”

Quinn smiled then and fingered one of her braids. “I never said I would give her a child.”

“But…” Marcail shook her head. “If you go to her, that’s exactly what she will expect.”

“No doubt that’s exactly what she will expect, but I plan to make things interesting. I will try and give you and the others time to flee this godawful mountain and find my brothers.”

Marcail threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. “You are risking so much.”

“Someone has to, and I’m the perfect one.” His hands rubbed up and down her back.

And that was the problem. He was too perfect.