Highland Vampire

by Deborah Raleigh

  He had come here full of rage and grief, drawn by a need older than time to be near the woman he had loved and lost. He had planned to watch her from afar, but when she appeared on the tower, less than a few feet from him, the opportunity had been irresistible, even though he knew that nothing but trouble would come of it.

  She thought him a ghost. Perhaps that was better than her knowing what an evil, decadent creature he had become. For if she ever learned the truth, she would fear and despise him. As he despised himself.

  He glanced over the side of the high stone tower and judged the distance to the ground. It was a long drop, yet he knew he could land without causing himself injury. He lifted his leg, preparing to leap over the side, but then her voice pierced his mind.

  "I thought it would be unbearably painful to have ye once again in my heart, to see ye in my mind, but it is not." Her tone was reflective and emotional, the sadness echoing the feelings lingering deeply inside him. "Perhaps I have been wrong in deliberately shutting ye out. Refusing to remember how much I loved ye, how much ye made my life complete."

  Though he tried, Callum could not hold back the rush of emotion her words brought to his long-bruised heart. To hear that she still loved him, still felt a bond with him, was a far greater gift than he had dared to hope to discover.

  Slowly he lowered his leg. Maev looked at him intently, then swallowed hard. Moving himself closer, Callum reached out and caught her hand. Her gaze, wide and nervous, remained pinned to his. Slowly, gently, he lifted her hand to hold it against the side of his face, craving her touch in a way he could not define.

  "Ye're solid," she gasped, pulling her hand away. "And cold. I thought ghosts were spirits who lacked substance and form."

  He shook his head, fearing he had frightened her. But the jolt of his reaction to her warm flesh stunned him; the driving need to leap upon her, rip off her thin chemise, and feast upon her naked flesh was a powerful temptation.

  But he resisted.

  "I am not a ghost," he replied hoarsely.

  She choked out a strange, nervous sound and splayed her hand over her chest as if she were trying to calm her heart. "Now I can hear yer voice. Though it sounds different than I remember. 'Tis deeper, huskier."

  What could he tell her? His vocal cords had been damaged the night he was attacked, the night he was converted to an immortal creature. "Are ye frightened of me?"

  "Should I be?"

  Callum smiled. His feisty Maev still existed, despite all that she had suffered. "I will not harm ye," he replied.

  She hesitated, then returned his smile. "I know ye're not my enemy."

  Her words gave him pause. "Do ye have enemies?" he asked. "Is that why ye and yer mother have chosen to live so far from the rest of the clan?"

  Her face crumpled as her eyes closed. "We have not chosen anything," she replied. "I was blamed for yer death and my punishment was to be banished from the clan. Forever. 'Tis a clever verdict, for it is a slow and unmerciful sentence."

  "They believe ye killed me?" Callum was shocked. "How?"

  "With sorcery." She opened her eyes, and her lips curved into a mocking grin. "Perhaps they were right. Perhaps I do have black powers. After all, I'm having a conversation with a ghost."

  He did not bother to correct her. His mind was still reeling over her revelations. How could the clan be so idiotic as to think that Maev would harm him? How could they be so cruel as to punish her unjustly? "Ye're innocent, Maev. And those who have condemned ye unfairly will suffer for their mistake."

  "No!" Her breath came out in a short, desperate gasp. "Please, ye must not seek retribution on my behalf. The suffering of others will not alleviate my pain; it will not recapture all that I have lost. All that we have lost."

  He watched as a strange mix of emotions shifted across her face. Maev's selfless concern humbled him. Even in her misery she was willing to defend those who had treated her so unfairly. Though he still thought she was beautiful dressed in her drab, worn nightclothes, it was her inner beauty that called to him, that made him remember why he had loved her so completely.

  He needed to get closer to her. Aware of the trace of apprehension in her eyes, Callum slowly edged in her direction. Maev's breathing became shallow and quick, but she did not move away.

  Taking care not to crush her with his weight, Callum pressed her against the edge of the tower wall, his hands framing her face, then sliding through her hair, his fingers threading between the long strands. "I always adored yer hair. Almost as much as I adored ye. May I kiss ye?"

  "Will it be the same?" A bright sheen of tears glistened in her eyes. "Will I feel that same thrill and excitement when yer lips touch mine?"

  "I dinna know," he replied. "Let's find out." Softly Callum pressed his lips over hers. The sensations swirled inside him, strong and true. Relief and joy shot through him. It was the same. Nay, it was even better, for it was such a rare and precious gift, one he thought was forever lost.

  He kissed her again and Maev's lips parted, greedily accepting his kiss. Her arms came up and around his neck without hesitation. Callum pulled her hips against his and felt the warm, womanly curves of her body fit against his hardness.

  Oh, how he needed her. Needed her to banish the loneliness and heartache he had endured for three long years. Anaxandra had told him she was dead. Enraged, he had prowled the lands of the McGinnis Clan, searching for Maev, yet never finding her. Brokenhearted, he had roamed the mortal world far and wide, a creature of darkness, a being of evil, doing unspeakable things, participating in unspeakable acts.

  Yet a small part of his humanity had survived. The part of his soul that Maev inhabited had remained uncorrupted, and by rekindling the love they had shared, he had reconnected with the strongest part of his essence.

  The problem was, now that he had found her, how could he possibly leave her again?

  Something twisted painfully inside him. Though they kissed slowly and deeply, savoring one another as if they had all the time in the world to be together, Callum knew that was untrue. An inner voice called out to him, warning that prolonging this pleasure would make the parting even more of an agony.

  With great reluctance Callum ended the kiss, released her, then stepped away so that she might move. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, for there might never be another chance to hold her in his arms and show her how much he still loved her.

  Her closed eyelashes fluttered open, and her large green eyes looked back at him, searching for answers that he could not provide.

  "I must go," he said.

  She placed a hand on his chest "Will I see ye again?"

  "I dinna know," he answered honestly.

  Then before she could say anything else, Callum vaulted over the side of the tower, scaled down the rough stone with catlike grace, and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

  When she awoke the next morning, Maev found herself lying on the pallet next to her mother, tucked snugly beneath her blanket. As usual. The burning embers from last night's fire still glowed, the aroma of simmering meat permeating the small area where she and Brenda lay.

  Venison stew. Maev could identify that delicious smell anywhere. There really had been a haunch of venison left for them by an unknown benefactor. That much was true. As for the ghost of Callum McGinnis—Maev was uncertain. It had all seemed very real, and had felt very real, but how could it have happened? And why had it happened now, after all these years? Most likely it was a trick of her weary mind, yet though she tried, it was impossible to forget the vision of Callum's sorrowful eyes.

  Maev longed to discuss the incident with Brenda, but she feared her mother would think she had lost her wits if she told her she had seen and spoken with and even dared to kiss Callum's ghost last night.

  Needing to clear her mind with some fresh air, Maev left the tower in the late morning on the guise of foraging for food. As she walked the familiar woods, she found herself looking over her shoulder one minute, then
gazing off into the shadows of the dense forest the next. Did spirits materialize in daylight hours, or did they roam the earth only at night?

  Shaking her head at her foolish notions, Maev concentrated on her chores. She gathered firewood, picked a few mushrooms, then returned home to do the wash. By midday she had convinced herself that the appearance of Callum's ghost had been a dream, yet even as she tried to dismiss it all as an interlude that provided her with an escape from the dreariness of her existence, the incident was never far from her thoughts.

  The foul weather returned, and the occasional burst of rain throughout the afternoon gave way to a deluge as night fell. Maev listened to the steady pummeling of raindrops and tried to tell herself it was foolish to feel so disappointed. In her heart she knew if it were not raining so hard, she would be outside on the tower wall, waiting to see if Callum's ghost reappeared.

  She slept fitfully through the night, feeling a sense of renewed disappointment each time she awoke and heard the rain. The next day Maev began her chores in a lethargic state. After adding more kindling to the fire to chase away the morning chill, she started preparing food for her mother. Yet when she glanced over at the older woman, a feeling of dread swept over her. Something was wrong.

  She approached her mother with some trepidations, fearing what she would discover. Brenda's eyes were opened, but they appeared sightless, gazing off into the distance with a glassy sheen.

  Maev knelt beside her and rested her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Mother?"

  Brenda's unfocused gaze settled on her face. Slowly, gradually, recognition dawned across her pale features and she moved her thin, white lips. "I'm dying, Maev."

  For a moment Maev couldn't catch her breath. "Dinna be daft. 'Tis just a bit of the fever that's got yer spirits feeling low. Spring will be here before ye know it, and the warm sunshine will lift yer mood. The hawthorn flowers will be in bloom, and I can gather madder root to distill. Ye'll feel better after ye've taken a few doses."

  "I need more than herbs and sunshine," Brenda replied with a weary sigh.

  The denial leapt to Maev's lips, but the expression of resignation on her mother's face kept the words lodged in her throat. Brenda was right. Her gaunt face was nearly as gray as the coarse wool blanket upon which her head rested, the bones of her body showing prominently through the wasted flesh.

  Though Maev longed to convince herself otherwise, there was little hope that her mother would survive for many more weeks. She had been too sick for too long.

  "What should we do?" Maev whispered as the helpless fury she struggled to control stabbed at her heart with a piercing agony. For both their sakes, Maev knew she had to be strong, but deep inside she felt like a frightened little girl.

  "We must pray." Brenda closed her eyes. "Ye remember yer prayers, don't ye, lass? My soul will need a lot of help reaching heaven, since I'll be leaving this earth without making a proper confession and having a priest's blessing of the last rites."

  Maev threaded her fingers through her mother's and tried to look confident. "My faith in the Lord has been sorely tested these last three years, but if it will bring ye comfort, I shall pray day and night."

  Brenda's mouth curved into a slight smile. "Ye always were a good girl, Maev. And ye grew into a fine woman. I am proud to call ye daughter."

  Maev willed back the tears that threatened to form. Brenda's devotion to her had always been absolute. She had generously shared her home and her heart; she had given everything to her adopted daughter, including her very life.

  The two women began to pray together. Brenda quickly grew tired, but Maev continued. When her voice grew hoarse, she closed her eyes and prayed silently, offering different prayers to every saint she had ever heard of, pleading for mercy for the good woman who deserved a better fate.

  As Brenda slipped into a calm sleep, Maev realized that she had to do everything in her power to give her mother the peace she desired, the peace she had more than earned. Her mother wanted a priest to hear her confession and administer last rites, and Maev knew she was the only one who could grant this final wish. Though it was difficult to judge, she believed Brenda would not survive more than a week or two. Time was of the essence.

  In her heart, Maev knew this was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, yet the significance of this decision filled her with a rising panic. Brenda had taught her that it took great courage to follow your convictions, and never before had that lesson held more meaning.

  Maev prayed she would have the inner strength and fortitude to accomplish this all-important task. For her mother's sake, she must put the bitterness behind her, swallow her pride, tame her fear, and return to the castle.

  And truth be told, the thought of going back to face the members of the McGinnis Clan scared Maev half to death.

  Chapter Four

  As night fell, Maev sat on the stool by the hearth, her chin propped pensively on her fist, her ears tuned to her mother's breathing, which at last had deepened into the steady rhythm of sleep. She had decided to leave just as the dawn began to break tomorrow, hoping to return before Brenda's condition worsened, hoping also to bring the one thing that would ease her mother's suffering. A priest.

  Maev forced herself to eat, then began making preparations for the journey. If she was lucky, the weather would clear by morning. A steady rain and muddy roads would make walking more difficult and tiring and slow her progress.

  After returning the food her mother could not swallow to the stew pot, Maev prepared for bed. But sleep would not come. Suddenly, there was a loud thump, followed by a muffled groan.

  Her head whipped around toward the sounds, which came from the base of the staircase that led to the outside tower rampart.

  "Callum?"

  After a moment of silence, he moved into the soft glow of the firelight so she could see him. Maev instantly noticed the uncertainty in his eyes.

  "Oh, Maev, I tried," he whispered as an expression of distress passed over his face. "Yet I find that I canna stay away."

  Maev blinked back her tears. "I am overjoyed that ye are here. Even though I know ye are not real, ye make me feel less alone, less afraid."

  He studied her for a moment, then opened his arms. Maev stood and walked into them, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She pressed herself tightly against his chest and felt him sigh into her hair.

  "This is madness—"

  She lifted her head and set her lips against his, stopping the words. At the touch of their lips, the pain and loneliness in her heart receded. It was madness, her madness, and more and more she was coming to depend upon it to survive.

  When the kiss ended, she pulled him toward the fire. They sat close together on the floor, facing each other. He seemed so real, so alive, her heart almost broke.

  There were so many questions to ask, but now was not the time. Her focus must remain on her mother and the mission she was about to undertake in the morning.

  "Ye seem worried," Callum remarked. "What is wrong?"

  Maev ceased toying with the fraying hem on the sleeve of her nightclothes. "My mother is dying. Is there anything ye can do to help her?"

  Regret filled Callum's eyes. "I have no powers to ease her suffering."

  "I feared as much." Maev cleared her throat. "I am going to the castle tomorrow to fetch the priest. My mother's last wish is to have him hear her confession and grant her absolution of her sins."

  Callum bolted up from the floor. "Ye cannot return to the castle. Ye will be killed."

  "I am well aware of the danger," Maev replied as a shudder went through her. "But I have no choice."

  "Let me do it."

  She could not help the gasp that escaped from her lips. "What? How?"

  "I move easily and swiftly in the dark. I will snatch the priest from his bed and bring him here just before dawn breaks."

  Maev pushed shakily to her feet. "If the priest finds himself in my tower prison with no recollection of how he got here, it will
be all the proof he needs to verify my sorcery and demonic powers. Then my life, and my mother's, truly will be forfeited."

  Callum's jaw clenched tightly as he came to stand beside her. "Then I shall find another priest. One who disna know any of the McGinnis Clan. I willna allow him to know where he has been brought, so when I return him to his parish, he will be unable to find ye again. Ye will remain safe."

  Maev wished with all her heart she could agree. "That could take days, perhaps longer. My mother will not last that long."

  Maev could see Callum's frustration mounting, but they both knew she was right. "At least let me accompany ye on the journey."

  "No. I need to believe that ye are here, watching over my mother, or else I fear I willna be able to leave her. I will go alone."

  "Maev." His eyes softening, he captured her face between his hands, cradling it gently while he kissed her all over, then planted one final kiss on the tip of her nose. "Ye always were the bravest woman I knew. Promise me that ye'll be careful?"

  "I shall."

  She nestled herself close to his strength, wishing she felt as brave as Callum believed her to be. As weariness and emotion took hold, she yawned. When she did it again, Callum brought her back to her pallet near the fire and tucked her into bed. Holding his hand tightly, Maev finally fell asleep. When she awoke, he was gone. As she had expected.

  Maev banked the fire, dressed in her warmest clothes, left food and water within easy reach, and kissed her mother. Brenda was barely conscious. It frightened Maev, yet she reasoned it would be better if Brenda was unaware of how long Maev was away.

  Convincing herself that Brenda would be fine on her own, Maev at last stepped outside into the cool, damp morning.

  She was quickly brought up short by the sight of a small brown mare with a white mark on its forehead tethered to the lowest branch of a tree that stood next to the tower.

  Hardly daring to believe the animal was real, Maev cautiously approached. The horse's ears perked as she drew near, and when she was within reach, the animal nudged Maev's arm in a friendly greeting.