Destiny Kills

by Keri Arthur

  “Good. Get the kids out first, and send them up the stairs. Twenty minutes after I start the diversion, I’ll make my way up there. I can carry little Carli, and the boys can fly after me.”

  “Where to, though? It won’t be safe to bring them back here—they know the little ones can’t fly far, and will search through the closer villages.”

  “The scientists are going to be too busy saving their asses and their work to immediately worry about finding the kids or you.”

  I gave him a twisted smile. “The scientists never do what you expect them to—and they have a habit of anticipating my moves.”

  “Then we book a cottage across the other side of the loch, somewhere that won’t strain the capabilities of young dragons who haven’t flown much.”

  “That’ll work.” I studied him for a moment, then added, “Once the kids are safe, I can get Mom out through the well.”

  He nodded. “It’s a good plan. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I just don’t trust the scientists.”

  He squatted down beside me, and touched a hand to my cheek. His soft caress sent a shiver of delight through every part of me. “Don’t forget that, no matter what, you can protect yourself. The loch is nearby—use the power of it if you need to.”

  “I will.” But if one of the scientists had a gun, then the loch wouldn’t be of much use. I sighed and pushed the thought away. What was the point of dwelling on such things? There was enough fear churning my stomach already. “We should go back and eat breakfast.”

  “The second best suggestion I’ve heard for while,” he said with a smile. He rose to his feet and offered me a hand up.

  I let him tug me to my feet, then, hand in hand, we left the shoreline and walked up the hill, waiting until several trucks rolled past before crossing the road and making our way back to the pretty little cottage.

  Breakfast was waiting in a hamper near the door. Trae scooped it up, then lifted the tea towel covering the top and sniffed deep. “Ah, lovely.” He tugged the towel completely off. “There’s fresh breads, homemade jams, and something that looks suspiciously like lumpy paste, but it’s hot.”

  I laughed as I opened the door. “That’s probably going to be porridge. A favorite around these parts, according to my dad, who hated the stuff.”

  “It’s not something my clique ever thought about eating, I can tell you.”

  “It’s apparently good for keeping the belly warm.” I opened the door and ushered him inside. “You want a coffee?”

  “Yep. It may be the only thing that washes down the paste.”

  “You eat it with milk and sugar, dope.”

  I made the coffee, then brought the two mugs over to the small table. We ate breakfast in comfortable silence, the scent of the breads and jams mingling with the warm spiciness of man, filling my lungs and stirring hunger—for the food, and for him.

  But as much as I wanted to give in to the need to caress him, to let my fingers reacquaint themselves with all that tanned muscle, now was not the time.

  We couldn’t afford to relax now, no matter how good or how pleasurable it would be. The men he’d flown off to the wilds of Canada might very well have gotten to a phone by now, in which case Marsten and his men would know I’d either be here or be on my way here. Maybe that was even why they were packing up. Either way, we had to keep alert. Last night had been a gift—but we dare not steal time like that again.

  I sighed softly then rose to grab another cup of coffee. “So what do we do to fill in the day?” I said, walking across to the nearest window and looking out. A green car was slowly making its way toward our cabin. I wondered if it was Mrs. Molloy, back to collect her basket. “And don’t suggest a horizontal tango. We haven’t the time.”

  “We have all day,” he said dryly.

  I gave him a grin. “Yeah, but there’s only one head alert when we’re in bed, and it isn’t the one with the brain aboard.”

  He laughed, a warm rich sound that had my toes curling. “You could be right there.”

  Outside, the green car had slowed even further, allowing me time to study the driver. It was a male, not a female—not Mrs. Molloy, as I’d originally thought. He was big, his shadowy features rough-looking.

  The sight of him had trepidation racing across my skin. I might not have seen this particular man before, but I knew what he was all the same. A scientist.

  I stepped to one side of the window, hiding behind the blue and white checked curtains.

  “What’s wrong?” Trae said quickly.

  I held up a hand to silence him, and listened to the sound of the approaching car. It cruised past slowly, not stopping, but remaining at a speed that allowed the driver time to look and study.

  They suspected.

  But how? Why? I wasn’t within tracking distance, and I hadn’t done anything to attract attention, hadn’t gone anywhere to be noticed. And yet that man was looking at this cottage, not at any of the other houses or cottages nearby. Just this one, and this one alone.

  Could Mrs. Molloy have told them that two Americans were staying here? She might claim to hate the scientists, but the almighty dollar was a great incentive to overlooking such feelings. I wouldn’t put it past the scientists to be paying the nosier folks in the village to keep an eye out for strangers with an American accent. Which I wouldn’t have thought would be exactly scarce in a town that thrived on tourism.

  The car finally moved on. I peeked out the window, watching until it had disappeared over the hill, then spun around.

  “We need to get out of here.” My gaze met the blue of his. “That was a scientist cruising past.”

  “Damn.” He gulped down the rest of his coffee, then rose. “Was he pointing anything our way?”

  “No.” Which didn’t mean the receiver couldn’t be on the seat next to him. “But why would they even suspect I’m here? The tracker only has a range of five hundred feet, so they can’t have caught the signal from the research center. Besides, if they had, why would they merely be doing a drive-by?”

  “Maybe the signal was weak or intermittent. Maybe they want to be sure before they cause a fuss.” He shrugged. “Either way, it looks like we’ll need to go do a bit of sightseeing.”

  I blinked. Why did this man always do that to me? “What?”

  “Hiding in the open is always a good policy. People just don’t expect it. So, we’ll wander up to Urquhart Castle and spend the day there mingling with the tourists and remaining well out of any tracker range.”

  “Then let’s get out of here.”

  I walked into the bedroom and grabbed our bags. Mine mightn’t hold much more than clothes, but I wasn’t about to leave anything behind that they could examine. It might only confirm any suspicions they had that I was here.

  Because if they were anything more than just suspicious, they’d surely be doing a whole lot more than cruising past.

  He took the bags from me and slung them over his own shoulder.

  “The cottage hasn’t got a back door,” I said, “so we’ll have to use one of the rear windows.”

  Amusement played around his mouth. “Considering the size of my . . . ego, do you think I’ll get through them easily enough?”

  “Just,” I said dryly. I walked back into the kitchen and pushed up the window. “How about this time you go first?”

  “You just want equal ass-viewing time.”

  “And is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Hell, no.” His words were solemn, but the twinkle in his eyes was very evident. “I am a very sexy guy with a very sexy ass, after all.”

  “And I think Carly Simon sang a song about a man just like you.”

  He grinned. “Impossible. I am unique.”

  I was tempted to say “Thank god,” but given his mood, he’d probably take it as a compliment.

  He tossed the bags through the window, then climbed out. After a quick look around, he turned and offered me his hand. I hesitated, then placed my f
ingers in his. The warmth of his flesh encased mine and sent a crazy tingle rushing across my skin.

  My feet had barely hit the ground before he was drawing me toward him for a quick, tantalizing kiss.

  “You keep doing that and we’re going to get ourselves into trouble,” I muttered, trying to ignore the excited pounding of my pulse and the aching need to melt back into his arms and just keep on kissing him.

  “But it’s a good kind of trouble,” he said with a grin.

  I whacked him lightly. “Behave. This is serious business.”

  “So is the two of us.” His grin faded a little as he picked up the bags and slung them over his shoulder. “You ready?”

  I nodded. “Are you sure this is going to be safe?”

  “I doubt they’ll expect us to be playing tourist up at the ruins, and if even the tracker has a range double what you were told, we should be well enough away from them.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Because a crowded tourist spot didn’t exactly provide a whole lot of places where we could run and hide.

  As it turned out, I was worrying over nothing. The sun tracked its way across the sky and we made like regular tourists, examining the ruins and having lunch and afternoon tea in the new visitors’ center.

  It turned out to be a good day—a slice of everyday normality in a life that had been far from normal. At least for the last eleven years. Egan and I had been lovers, but it had been out of necessity and the need for companionship more than anything else. We’d never had the chance to do any of those things lovers normally do. Not even share after-sex small talk, because Egan had always been too aware of the scientists and their insidious monitors.

  But today, with Trae, I got a taste of that—a taste of what it would be like to be his lover, his friend, the person he cared most about—and I had to say, it was nice. More than nice, really, because it was a glimpse of the future that might be mine if I survived the present.

  The castle closed at five. We trailed out with everyone else, then made our way down to the shore of the loch, keeping in the shadows of the hill and the castle so that we were less likely to be noticed.

  As we neared the shore, I picked up a pebble and tossed it high. It hit the water with a splash, sending glittering droplets spraying into the darkening skies. Ripples ran away from the spot where the stone sank, the circles growing ever stronger rather than weaker.

  The loch knew I was near. She was waiting for me.

  An odd tremor of excitement ran through me. I needed to get in there. Needed to reclaim that part of my heritage so long denied.

  “It’s time to go.”

  I placed my fingers in his, felt the quiver start deep inside. A quiver that was all desire, all want, all need.

  He pulled me close, his body pressed so hard against my own that I could feel the beat of his heart. It was as rapid as mine.

  “Promise me one thing,” he said, his words so close they whispered heat across my lips.

  “What?” It was softly said, more a sigh than any definite word, but he seemed to understand all the same.

  “You’ll call if you get into trouble. Scream, rant, rave, do whatever it takes. I’ll hear you, and I’ll come running.”

  “If you promise to be careful. To not get caught.”

  “I won’t get caught,” he said. “I’ll give you twenty minutes to get into the place, then I’ll start the diversion.”

  I nodded. There was little else I could do. He smiled, and touched my chin lightly. “Don’t look so fiercely concerned. Trust me, I know what I’m doing. It’s why Egan asked me to join you, remember?”

  “No, I don’t, because I couldn’t hear your conversation. And you don’t know what they are capable of.”

  “It can’t be anything worse than what my father is capable of,” he said softly, then kissed me.

  It was a good kiss, a kiss that was all heat and desire. A kiss that made promises I knew would never be fulfilled unless we survived the next few hours.

  But we had to survive, because so many lives—young and old—depended on it.

  When the kiss finally ended, I was breathless, aching, and wanting him more than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life. And I knew it was a want I just couldn’t act on.

  “I have to go,” I said, and pulled away.

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise.”

  Without looking at him any further, I stripped off my clothes. Once naked, I walked toward the icy waters. He didn’t say anything and neither did I.

  It was only when the dark, murky waters closed over my head, and that strange sensation ran across my eyes, that I looked back at him. Even through the muck and the peat particles that ran through the water, I could see him quite clearly. The pile of my clothes was pooled around his feet and my bag was still clenched in his right hand.

  He looked worried.

  Really worried.

  I turned around and dove deeper. The passage that had been carved through the rock so long ago lay at the very bottom of the loch, close to where the steep sides joined the flatter bottom. Despite the advances in technology, science had not yet found a way for sonar to cover the whole loch, and few bothered even trying to map the sides. Though given the rumors of tunnels and caves within the loch—rumors that had become almost as legendary as the monsters themselves—many had certainly tried. And with varying degrees of success, from what I’d been able to learn through my research as a teenager.

  The passage became visible, even though it was little more than a deeper patch of blackness in the thick darkness that was the water. I slowed, edging into the rough-hewn mouth of the tunnel and wondering how long it had actually taken my ancestors to carve out. Wondering if they’d had help and how they’d protected those helpers once they’d finally broken through the last of the rock and the black water had rushed in.

  Though I guess one way to protect a secret is to let none survive who know it—a motto I would yet have to consider if my mother and I were to have any hope of being left alone.

  I shivered. I’d killed in the past to protect myself and those I cared about, and I’d undoubtedly kill again if it meant protecting my mother and the kids. But could I kill in cold blood? Was I physically capable of hunting down and killing all those who now knew of our existence?

  I really wasn’t sure. And that was scary.

  I swam on. The passage wasn’t arrow straight, as I presumed, but full of twists and turns, snaking through the hard rock. In several places there were rock falls—no doubt caused by some sort of seismic activity, because the rock just looked too heavy and solid for it to be any sort of wear—and the sharp edges scratched my belly as I squeezed past. Trae would have struggled, even if he had been able to hold his breath long enough.

  Finally, the water pressure began to ease. Though the water felt no warmer and the visibility was no clearer, I knew I was nearing the top.

  My head broke through the water, and I blinked. Once the protective film retreated across my eyes, I looked around.

  Though it was pitch black, I could see well enough. I guess that was one of the benefits of being a sea dragon. We had to see in the darkest of waters, as well as through the murk of the loch’s deep waters. This well held little in the way of problems.

  The walls here were as rough-hewn as the walls of the tunnel, the marks of the picks that had hacked through the rock still very evident even after all this time. Sludge and God knows what else slicked the walls, some of it hanging in thick green tendrils. No light twinkled from high above. Indeed, there was nothing to indicate this well had an exit point at all. The only indication I had that there was an escape was the faint stir of fresher air through the dank atmosphere of the well.

  I reached for the handholds carved deep into the rock and began to climb.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The air was cold against my skin, seemingly colder perhaps than the water. It crept across my body, stealing
the warmth from my skin, settling into my bones.

  I reached the top of the well and pressed a hand against the thick metal cover. It was heavy, thick with rust that flaked away as my fingertips pressed against it, but nevertheless it was basically solid to the touch. I took a deep breath, then pushed with all my might.

  The cover slid up and back, and clanged to the ground with an almost bell-like sound. It seemed to reverberate across the silence, a sharp call to arms to anyone who was listening.

  I scrambled over the lip of the well and dropped to the cold stone of the ground as the last of the bell-like reverberations faded away and silence returned. I remained there, my muscles taut and limbs trembling—whether with fear or the readiness to run, I couldn’t honestly say—listening for anything that might indicate someone had heard the crash of the cover and was coming to investigate.

  Nothing. No footsteps, no alarm.

  I rose and squeezed my hair to help dry it, then found the stairs and padded upward. My feet slapped lightly against the stones, making little noise.

  The door at the top of the stairs was heavy, made of metal like the well cover but nowhere near as rusted. I gripped the knob and turned it carefully. The door creaked open, revealing a long corridor lit by a solitary bulb about halfway down.

  These were the corridors I’d briefly glimpsed in the mist this morning, and they were a part of the old sections of the house. The newer additions to the basement—the cells—were ahead and to the left. If I went right, I’d reach the old stone staircase that wound up through the largest of the turrets to the roof. If the morning mist was right, the exits on the other floors were still well hidden. If I could get the kids to the stairs, they’d have a clear run to freedom.

  But that was a whole lot of ifs.

  I slipped through the doorway and headed down the corridor, keeping to the shadows and hoping they hadn’t installed motion detectors in the time I’d been away. I ran through the patch of yellowed brightness, then walked on, passing several semi-open doors. The rooms beyond were silent and dark, and I felt no immediate inclination to investigate. Not until I knew what lay ahead, anyway.