“It would seem your whore of a mother has failed to introduce you to the rest of her family. I am your mother’s dear sister. I am your father’s only wife. I am Imogen Sinclair, Lady Sinclair.” The corner of her lip curled up as if she found the words distasteful.
Imogen let Isabelle’s head flop back down onto her chest. Gusty gasped in outrage. How could someone treat their own sister so badly? Imogen cast Gusty a malevolent glare.
“Aye!” Imogen ground out through her teeth. “The great Malcolm Sinclair is my husband!” She drew nearer to Gusty and on a breath of a whisper added, “At least he was my husband until your mother got her claws into him! He is a weak man when it comes to my sweet sister. I cannot wait to see the expression on his face when he finds out I have disposed of his whore and the bastard he spawned off her!”
Ripples of fear and revulsion raced through Gusty’s body. The woman was certifiable and no doubt quite capable of doing just what she claimed. It looked as if any rescue Gusty hoped for would not come in time to save her or Isabelle. She cursed her stupidity once again for not going to Alexander or her father when she had first received the ransom note for her mother. There was a good chance no one would ever find out what happened to them. That was her bigger regret at the moment. She was not sorry she had come, even though she was unable to do more. There was no way she would have left her mother alone to deal with this maniacal creature.
“Kermit, go and get our other guest. I would like these two fine ladies to witness the punishment I have in store for them.”
Without a word the ugly, bald-headed giant turned, his black cloak swirling about his legs as he made for the door.
“My apprentice will return shortly and then we will begin.”
Imogen moved to the long table, a large portion of which was bare except for leather straps fastened to the wooden planks along the sides, and iron manacles bolted into one end and chains fastened to the other. A bona fide medieval torture device and no doubt Imogen planned to use it in dealing with her “guests”.
Gusty watched Imogen arrange several thick candles around a large, crumbling book. She lit the wicks and then began to slowly turn the pages, studying them carefully.
“Ah, this recitation was one of my best endeavors.” She hummed and muttered as she continued to scan the page. “And this verse reverses the first spell, how curious.” She paused for a long moment while she ran her index finger down the page, momentarily distracted. “Aye, it was one of my best endeavors,” she repeated louder. She glanced over at Gusty. “This spell brought you to me in the first place.” She smiled evilly. “Did those two imbeciles, Hagen and Maeve, ever figure out how you came to be here before they were ready to call you back?”
“It was you?” Gusty could not hide her surprise.
“Aye, it was my magic, not theirs. Those two old fools were dragging their feet. I became impatient with their weak-minded sorcery and made my own plans. Spies are easy to hire when you offer enough gold. Hagen was careless and in a drunken stupor he let slip where he had hidden you. No one believed him of course. Who would? Black magic is frowned upon in this age and witches are often burned at the stake. But my apprentice knew what to listen for and he brought the information to me immediately.
“Aye. Hagen bragged about a time corridor that could be traveled with the right incantation. They thought their magic was stronger than mine.” A cackle escaped her throat, as if she found her tale amusing. “I proved them wrong! Aye, I waited and I watched. I knew eventually they would lead me to Malcolm’s bastard child.
“Even though they are quite clever—I have to admit they had the book hidden in the most unlikely place—I did eventually find it. And I used it. The fools waited too long to make their move and I cast the spell and brought you back. Unfortunately I did not know how to control your entry but now that makes no difference. You are here! And I will destroy you and your whore of a mother. Revenge will be mine and it will taste so sweet! Malcolm Sinclair will suffer for the rest of his life for all the wrongs he incurred with his betrayal! He ruined my life and now I will ruin his!”
Gusty listened to the ravings of her insane aunt and knew if she and her mother were to survive, she needed to do something to distract the woman. She must play for more time. She prayed with all her heart Alexander had somehow figured out what happened to her and looked for her even now. He was their only hope.
“My father loves my mother. He told me how he got stuck with you as a wife because your father betrayed him. He was tricked into marrying you, the older MacKay daughter. You were foisted off on him because your father could get no other man to offer for you. Your father, my grandfather, lied so he could get you off his hands.” Gusty knew she played with fire but she really had no other choice. If she was going to die, she would have her say before it happened.
“Nay! You lie! Malcolm wanted me as his wife. Father promised me so. But once that whore I called sister cast her spell over him, he turned from me and never accepted me as a real wife. For that you will all pay. I will see Malcolm Sinclair brought to his knees a broken man when he hears of your deaths. I will destroy you all with this sweet revenge.”
Imogen advanced across the room, screeching in a fury, but then she suddenly stopped, as if a switch had been flicked. Her demeanor changed, she turned and walked back to the table and began looking through the pages of the old book.
Gusty let her head fall back against the wall. Her mind raced a mile a minute trying to figure out what she could say to change this mad woman’s mind. She glanced at her mother. She’d shifted her position a bit and her breathing pattern had changed.
She was waking up! Gusty breathed with relief.
“Mother,” she whispered as quietly as possible and hoped Imogen didn’t notice.
Her mother looked up. Before Isabelle could speak Gusty shook her head and nodded toward the table behind her. She held her breath and waited but the old witch seemed not to notice her captive had regained consciousness. When Isabelle glanced back at Gusty she mouthed, close your eyes. Isabelle nodded and lowered her head, closed her eyes and sat perfectly still. A slight shuffling sound coming from the doorway caught Gusty’s attention. A bound and hooded man stumbled into the room ahead of Kermit. The big ogre shoved the man in the back, sending him staggering toward the table where Imogen worried over her spell book.
“Ah, here you are. It is about time, Kermit.” Imogen added a few ingredients into a small stone bowl and used a stone pestle to grind them into a fine powder. This she poured into a silver goblet and then added a good portion of blood-red wine.
“Remove the hood, Kermit. Let my love see what fate has in store for him. I’m sure he will be more than pleased to be see his beautiful Imogen once again.”
Her apprentice pushed the unfortunate man up against the wall opposite the table then chained him to the wall. Once Kermit had the man secure he yanked the hood off and Gusty’s mouth dropped open. She would have never in a thousand years expected to see Black Bart Sutherland chained to the wall of the dungeon, looking a bit haggard and bleary-eyed. Obviously the man had spent the night drinking himself senseless. He must have been an easy target, probably passed out cold when he was taken.
“It is such a pleasure to see you once again, lover. Are you pleased to see me?” Imogen asked in a falsely sweet and overly loud voice.
“Aye, Imogen, I am pleased to see you.” His words were cautious and neutral but his face showed he was a very frightened man. His eyes flickered back and forth as if he were a trapped animal.
“How are Bernadine and Katherine, Bart? How are our two daughters doing at court? Has Edgar found husbands for them?”
“They both have suitors. Aye, Edgar found them good matches.”
Gusty gasped, shocked by this new revelation, and Bart’s gaze turned in her direction. His eyes widened.
“What is she doing here, Imogen?” he demanded.
“I wanted her to see what her future looks like. I have
been living for this moment—I want to savor my vengeance. I have brought my sister here as well. She will also pay retribution.” Imogen gestured to where Isabelle sat with her chin resting upon her chest as if she were still unconscious.
“What are you going to do with them? With me?” he demanded hoarsely.
“I think I will deal with you first, lover. I just might take your soul and send you to hell.”
“Alexander will find us, Imogen. He loves his wife and now that she carries his child he will do anything to get her back. You won’t get away with this insanity. He will kill you, if you harm Lady Sutherland.”
“You fool. We are in the last place anyone would ever think to look.”
“Whose dungeon is this?”
“This is the oldest section of my father’s dungeon. He has not used it in years—it is considered unsafe. Nobody will think to look in the MacKay’s own keep for us. We will have total privacy for our entertainment,” she promised him in a whisper before she turned her back and continued her preparation.
Gusty looked at Bart but he refused to return her gaze. She found it hard to believe that Imogen had an affair with the man and even had two children by him. But why should that surprise her? The man went after anything in a skirt. He was a player of the first degree.
Imogen stopped her mumbling over the concoction she mixed and carried the cup to Bart. She lifted it to his lips and commanded him to drink. As if unable to control his actions, he took a sip. Before he could pull back after the first small swallow, Imogen tipped up the cup and forced him to gulp down the entire thing. When she drew the cup back Bart sputtered and coughed, gasping for air.
“Damn you, witch! Are you trying to drown me or poison me?”
“You are not getting off so easily, my love. I have something much better in mind for your death.”
At her statement Bart turned white and his breathing grew labored. He groaned as if he were in pain. Was he having a heart attack or had she really poisoned him?
Imogen returned to the table and set the empty cup down before reaching up to open the door of a small birdcage that hung from a rafter above. She crooned a low tune as she opened the cage and brought out a yellow canary. Slowly she walked toward Bart with the bird clutched in her hand, gently stroking the creature’s head as it chirped warily. She stopped in front of Bart and smiled.
“What are you doing, Imogen? Stop!”
She ignored his entreaty, lifted her hand and began to stroke his head in much the same fashion as she had done to the bird. As Gusty watched Bart froze then his body sagged, as if something had sapped all his strength. Within moments he had dropped to his knees on the cold stone floor, his massive body hanging by his arms and wrists, which were chained to the wall above him. Imogen stopped petting him and stepped back so he could see her without raising his head.
“You see how this works, Kermit,” she instructed her apprentice. “He will feel everything as if I am doing it to him.”
The ugly giant grinned and stepped forward, waiting in obvious anticipation.
She stood there before Bart, smiling almost sweetly at him for the longest time. Then she raised the canary to her lips and whispered, “Goodbye, Bart.” And she bit the head off the small, helpless canary.
Gusty had not known what to expect as she’d watched the strange incantation but when Imogen bit off the bird’s head Gusty nearly lost the contents of her stomach. She gagged repeatedly and watched in horror as Bart jerked around and then fell limp.
The crash of the heavy wooden door against the wall as it was thrown open broke through her dazed mind and Gusty turned to watch her brother charge into the room, a large claymore in one hand and a deadly looking skean in the other. He looked like a younger version of their father. Imogen spun around at the invasion, a gasp escaped her lips as she came face-to-face with Michael.
“You,” Imogen’s hiss turned into a gasp and then she began making a gurgling noise.
“What the hell is going on here?” Michael demanded.
Gusty watched in fascinated horror as Imogen grabbed her neck and collapsed slowly to the floor. Obviously Michael’s appearance had surprised the old witch, causing her to inhale sharply. The bird’s head had lodged in her throat.
“Mistress?” Imogen’s giant growled as he dropped by her side and touched her arm.
“Imogen tried to kill Bart with black magic. She bit off a canary’s head and was in the process of swallowing it when you crashed through the door.” Gusty glanced down at Imogen, who lay still on the cold stone floor. “I think she’s dead.”
A great roar of rage brought Gusty’s attention to Imogen’s apprentice. The ugly bald giant rushed her brother. The two men met with a crash of blades and then they broke apart and began to circle each other. Michael jumped back to avoid being sliced open as the ugly apprentice swung his blade under Michael’s guard. A quick kick connected with the bigger man’s sword arm and he dropped his weapon. Michael stepped back to assess the situation but his hesitation gave the giant the opportunity to jump for the door and disappear.
“Oh my God! Michael! Are you okay? I can’t believe you just did that. Wow! You saved our lives!” Gusty realized she was babbling and stopped long enough to take a deep breath.
“Michael?” The whispered plea had him turning to the sad figure tied to the chair.
“Mother.” Michael sheathed his sword and moved to her side.
“Get her out of here, Michael. She’s been injured. I think Kermit hit her on the head. She needs medical attention immediately.”
“Are you all right, Gusty?” he asked as he used his skean to cut the ropes.
Isabelle rose to her feet a little unsteadily, her eyes wide. “Thank God you arrived in time, son. I do not even want to think about what she had in mind for your sister or me.”
“Go, Mother, find Father and Alexander. They are both upstairs tearing the MacKay keep apart looking for you and Gusty. Go let him know you’re all right. I will get these chains off Gusty and we will be right behind you.”
“Aye, son. But hurry. I do not like this place, it is pure evil.” She crossed herself and then ran from the chamber, a look of terror on her face.
“Kermit!” Gusty gasped, “Michael, Kermit is out there somewhere. What if he comes back and finds Mother alone? He might hurt her or worse. I think he’s crazy. He was Imogen’s apprentice. Oh God! You have to go! Hurry! I’ll be right behind you.”
Michael had released one of her wrists while she had been talking so she reached to unfasten her other arm.
“I can do the rest. Go, Michael, make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”
“Follow as quickly as you can, little sister. It’s just a few turns and a flight of stairs to the outer door. I will send men back for them.” He gestured toward Bart and Imogen as he gathered his claymore and hurried from the room.
Not wanting to spend any more time than she had to in this horrible place, Gusty quickly undid the iron band from her other wrist and freed herself. She moved across the floor, trying not to look at Bart’s dead body slumped against the wall. She glanced down and sidestepped around the dead Imogen as she made her way to the door. Once in the hallway she stopped to determine which direction she should go. Then she remembered seeing her mother had turned to the left.
“Gusty!” Alexander bellowed down the dim passage, the sound echoing in the bowels of the MacKay keep. “Run for God’s sake! It is a trap! Imogen’s man tripped a lever before he was taken down. The place is starting to crumble!”
As if to prove his words the ceiling began to shake and dust and rocks started to sprinkle down upon her head.
Coughing at the dust that choked her, she glanced back into the room she had just left. A sudden motion caught her attention and she cursed. Fear engulfed her but she could not move. She looked down the corridor and found Alexander striding in her direction, even as the walls and ceiling crumbled down around him.
“Go back, Alexander! I’ll be
right behind you!”
“You’re coming with me now!”
She could hardly make him out for the debris that fell and the dust that turned into a thick cloud, causing her to gasp for breath. She hated to trick him but she needed to know he was safe, so she started toward him.
“Go now, Alexander! Run! I’m right behind you!”
He hesitated, slowed his stride. At the same moment a large piece of stone ceiling fell between them, missing him by only an inch but blocking her path to freedom. The opening at the top was barely large enough for her to fit through and the gap was in danger of being sealed at any moment. She could still make it if she hurried. But there was no way Alexander would fit through to get to her. She ran to him, took the hand he thrust out to her and clutched it to her heart. Then she let go and raised her head to kiss his lips—possibly the last kiss they’d ever share. With tears streaming down her face mingling with the dust that was nearly choking her, she smiled once more at him and then she pushed him away.
“I’m not sure I will fit through the hole, love. It is too small for my increasing size.”
Before he could protest that he would help her through, she placed her fingers over his mouth and shook her head.
“I have to go back, Alexander. Duncan is still in there.”
After a moment of silent shock Alexander cursed viciously and she could see the pain etched across his face as he realized the truth of the situation.
“I love you, Alexander. I love you more than life. But I have to do this.” She raised her chin and nodded once. “I’ll be right back.”
His silver eyes bored into hers, his grip on her hand nearly strong enough to bruise. “I love you, Augusta Sutherland, and if you don’t return, I’m coming after you.” He kissed her hand, every emotion known to man released in that moment of madness as the walls continued to groan and crack and crumble around them. “Hurry!”
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