Immortal Desires (Well of Souls)

by Eno, Laura

  He shuddered and held her tighter, telling her how much he loved her before spilling his seed a moment later.

  "I canna hold back when you do that. You are a wicked temptress." He nipped at her shoulder when she laughed.

  "Untie me and I'll show you how wicked I can be."

  "Aye?" His eyes sparkled as he reached up and released her bonds.

  "Roll over on your back," Deanna said softly. "It's your turn to be tied up and tortured."

  "Och aye. I'm liking being married more and more." He flipped over and let Deanna have her way with him for the rest of the day.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Otherworld

  Fury beat at Ian with fists of iron when he saw Robert cut down by the chance arc of a flying blade. He brought his sword to bear on the third guard, anger guiding his weapon's edge to the soft belly of his target. He looked around for the woman but she'd disappeared from the chamber. No time to worry about her now. He moved to Robert's prone body and laid a hand on the still figure.

  "Mylia." Robert's voice came out as a croak but it was the sweetest sound Ian had ever heard.

  "Dinna think on her now. Lie still and rest. I'll be back with the mortals."

  He ran to the wooden door and yanked it open. A man and woman huddled against a wall, staring wide-eyed at his sudden appearance. "Come with me," he yelled, in no mood to linger.

  They didn't move and Ian swore at the delay. "I'm here to take you out of this place so you can go back home."

  That got them moving, though they edged by him in fear. He glanced down and saw Robert's blood staining his hands and shirt. Rage warred with sensibility. He didn't have time to coddle these people. Robert didn't have time.

  With a terse, "Follow me," Ian struggled under Robert's weight as he picked the man up. He muttered Druid healing spells under his breath as the four of them ran through the chambers. The spells were for plants and animals but hopefully they'd stem the flow of blood long enough for Robert to get back outside and gain his Immortality back.

  Someone grabbed his belt when they entered the dark chamber and he kept moving, towing the mortals behind him and up to level ground. He set Robert down on his feet as gently as he could and wrapped the man's arms around the shoulders of the strangers.

  "Which way should they walk, Robert?" Ian saw pain glaze his mentor's eyes as he opened them and one feeble hand raise to point.

  "Aren't you coming with us?" the woman asked, her voice taking on a shrill note.

  "I canna go that way. Keep walking as fast as you can until someone comes for you. His life depends on it." He watched as they disappeared through a wall, Robert's feet dragging on the ground between the mortals as they struggled under his weight.

  "Brìghde, watch over my friend," Ian murmured and began retracing his steps.

  The chasm stretched out before him and Ian sought to suppress his magic once again—to believe that solid earth rested there. His eyes continued to see an abyss no matter what he tried. He'd failed.

  Sounds of pursuit reached his ears. Either the others had recovered from their wounds or the woman had brought reinforcements. Robert had called her Mylia. Ian wondered briefly who she was as he pulled out his sword and prepared to fight. At least he could give Robert and the mortals the time they needed to reach safety.

  A cool breeze whispered along his skin, lifting strands of sweat-soaked hair from his neck. A gentle touch eased his fatigue and a silvery voice chided him. "You would sink to self-pity? I expect more from you, Warrior."

  Ian dropped to his knees, heedless of the danger gaining on him. "Brìghde? Self-pity?"

  She didn't answer; the presence gone as swiftly as it came. Had he given up too easily? Thoughts of Deanna filled his mind. Would he ever learn what had become of her or where she went?

  Ian straightened. Not if he stayed here and waited to die. The answers lay on the other side of that chasm. He closed his eyes and ran. And believed. For Deanna.

  Warm air bathed his skin. Ian opened his eyes without slowing his pace and saw the two mortals still struggling to drag Robert between them. Whether Brìghde had helped him or merely gave him a reason to believe in himself, Ian didn't know. It didn't matter. He was here now and his commitment firmly in place. He sent thanks to the Goddess and caught up to the others.

  After pulling Robert into his arms, they all ran until the Council member appeared in front of them. She restored his and Robert's powers as the mortals cowered behind Ian.

  Robert groaned as he slowly came to, his pain reaching Ian's mind as a sharp blow to the temple. Even worse was the agony in his thoughts over seeing Mylia again, a ripping of the heart that Robert struggled to block from Ian's awareness but couldn't in his weakened state.

  "Am I going home now?" a timid voice asked behind him. Ian turned to see the man's crumpled face. "My wife is ill and she needs me."

  He and the woman both disappeared before Ian had a chance to answer. He turned back to the Guardian who hadn't said a word to them yet. "Will the mortals remember what happened to them here?"

  The Council member gazed at him, her face still hidden by the cowl. "While they are in the Well they perceive all, but do not worry. It is as it should be."

  Ian's hand flexed over the hilt of his sword in impotence. "You recycled them? You didna send them back to their lives?"

  She flicked her hand and a bright light surrounded both Ian and Robert, dumping them back into the meadow in Boulder. The Guardian didn't follow.

  ***

  Boulder, October 2012

  "What just happened?" Ian paced in front of Robert, grinding the autumn grass beneath the soles of his boots. The older man still sat on the ground trying to catch his breath. "We rescued them from the Conrí only to have them recycled?"

  "I'm afraid so. That wasn't what I'd hoped for." He lifted a hand and Ian helped him to his feet.

  "Hoped? Did you talk to the Council about them?" Ian froze in mid-stride; his throat closed as if an invisible hand had latched around his neck. "Did they recycle Deanna? Is that why she disappeared?"

  "Slow down. I don't think they recycled Deanna. The Council agreed to let me handle that—after the fact." Robert grinned, reminding Ian that he hadn't told the Council about his decision to send Deanna back beforehand. "As for the two we rescued today, I had asked the Council to return them to their current lives. They told me they'd think on it."

  "They must no have thought about it for verra long," Ian grumbled. The Council needed more Guardians like Robert to make the decisions. He understood humans better than most, since he lived amongst them.

  "Who is Mylia?" Ian watched Robert stiffen, his face looking like he might be ill.

  "Can't you guess?" Robert passed his hand over his face. "I'll tell you about her sometime but not right now."

  They walked in silence after that toward the Light Street building while Ian cast his senses out in another search for Deanna. He stumbled on the path and would have gone down if Robert hadn't reached out a hand to steady him.

  "What's wrong?"

  Ian gasped for air as new memories flooded through his mind. He turned to his friend and clasped him on the shoulders, wearing a wide smile that couldn't express the depth of his joy. "Deanna has found her way back to me. We are married."

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Robert met with Ian the following day, his strength returned after a good night's sleep. The experience of being human had rattled him. The fragility of life consumed his thoughts, distracting Robert from his mission. Heart beating faster at the memory, he reached for a cup of tea, swallowing the soothing liquid as an antidote to despair.

  His empathy toward mortals had grown even stronger; his determination to change the Guardians' position about recycling souls had solidified as well. Robert looked over at Ian's smiling face and relaxed, basking in the man's happiness. At least that had worked out well.

  "Deanna fought hard to return to you. Congratulations on your marriage."

&nbs
p; Ian nodded, a small grin complimenting the light in his eyes. "It was a shock when she came back on her own like that. Deanna told me she was offered her old life back. I'm grateful she chose me instead."

  Robert's mind wandered, stubbing a mental toe in the dark recesses of his buried emotions. Ian had a love that transcended ordinary barriers. His soul mate. Though Immortals didn't have souls, Robert once thought he had that kind of love. Seeing Mylia again had torn open the wound of loss. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the memories.

  "You're thinking about Mylia, aye?" Ian's voice carried a wealth of understanding but Robert couldn't afford to accept the pity.

  "It's of no importance." He wouldn't speak of her now…maybe not ever. "On to more pressing subjects. I want you to continue searching for lost souls but we'll tag them for now and not alert the Council."

  If Ian questioned the wisdom of Robert's decision, he didn't let on, only tilting his head in acceptance like it wasn't a serious breach of protocol. Robert spent a moment reflecting on his new plan of crime, then dismissed it. Sometimes rules had to be broken in order to do the right thing.

  ***

  Highlands, July 1506

  Deanna walked through the bailey, raising her face to the chilled sun and rubbed her expanding belly. She'd been cooped up inside for almost a week with a spate of bad weather and the fresh air felt good, though unseasonably cool. Her mother-in-law strode beside her, oddly quiet.

  "Are you going to travel to the MacKenzie to see Mairi and the new baby?" Deanna asked. Ian's sister gave birth to a strong, healthy boy several weeks back. Isobel hadn't seen her first grandchild yet. "If it's me you're worried about, don't be. I'll be fine while you're gone."

  Isobel patted her hand but her face looked distant, as if she were listening to something else and only partially heard her. "I'm no worried about you. It's…I canna explain it. There's something but it's no clear to me." She frowned and pulled her cloak tighter about her slender frame.

  Deanna touched her shoulder in concern. "You're freezing out here. Why don't you go back inside?"

  "Nay. I…I need to be out here with you." Isobel shivered and stared straight ahead.

  A thrill of fear tightened Deanna's muscles and the baby gave an irritable kick in response. If Isobel had seen something, she wasn't letting on. And yet, the woman had seemed mystified as to why she needed to stay close. It didn't make sense.

  "We'll both go back inside," Deanna suggested. The eeriness of Isobel's attitude surrounded her now, pressing against her lungs so she couldn't take a deep breath.

  "It's out here. This is where we need to be." Isobel mumbled the words, talking more to herself than anyone else.

  "What's out here?" Deanna stopped and scanned the bailey. Everything looked peaceful, people going about their business—but she felt it too. An evil approaching, dimming the light, sucking the air from the sky…

  "Deanna!" Isobel grabbed her arm, wrenching her focus back to the present. "You were swaying."

  "I'm all right," she gasped, reigning in the galloping horse that was her heartbeat. She'd let Isobel's words spook her. That was all it was. No one was here. Ian and the guards were training within shouting distance. She touched her stomach like a talisman, smoothing her hand over the bulge. The foreboding feeling stepped back a pace but didn't completely leave.

  A flame of wild hair rounded the corner of the keep and Deanna made a face. The girl had taken to making obnoxious remarks whenever Deanna was around and so she avoided Alyth whenever she could.

  "I love you," Isobel said softly, jerking Deanna's attention away from the girl. "I couldna have asked for a better mate for my son."

  "Thank you." Deanna was startled when Isobel suddenly stepped in front of her, flinging her arms around her in a crushing hug.

  A scream of rage shattered the peaceful bailey. Isobel slumped against Deanna, growing heavy in her arms. Time moved slowly after that. She saw the knife protruding from Isobel's back and Alyth take a step toward them.

  Deanna remembered shouting for help but her voice seemed distant, the sound not penetrating through the rush of blood in her ears. A powerful cramp seized her belly and she slid to the ground, Isobel falling along with her.

  She sensed a commotion, heard feet running and bellows of angry voices. Alyth moved into her field of vision, cursing before twisting to look behind her.

  Blood bloomed from a spot on Alyth's chest, the color shining brighter than the sunlight on her hair as she plunged face-first onto the ground at Deanna's side. One eye glared at her without blinking, peeking out from a tangle of copper curls.

  Hands folded around Isobel, lifting the woman off of Deanna before Ian swung her into his arms. She buried her head into his chest, knowing Isobel was gone without having to hear it.

  "Are you all right?" Ian spoke quietly enough but Deanna could hear the rage fighting to burst out and consume him.

  She nodded her head against him, too afraid to speak any words. Her mind chanted a litany of remorse in time with the pains in her stomach. We should have gone back inside the only thought she could string together as Ian carried her to their bed and laid her gently upon it.

  He kissed her forehead, his tears dropping onto her cheeks. "Rest, mo chridhe. I'll be back soon."

  Deanna gathered a pillow to her chest and sobbed into it, frightened of the pains that were too early. Would she lose her baby as well on this terrible day?

  Isobel, did you know this would happen? Why didn't you say something, instead of sacrificing your life to protect me? Tears continued to leak from her eyes as Deanna stared at the ceiling searching for answers. None appeared and she finally fell into an exhausted sleep, tears and blood running in rivers through her dreams.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Highlands, September 1506

  Spots danced behind her eyelids as Deanna tried to breathe through another contraction. She'd be so glad to leave this damned bed. Although the false labor had stopped a few hours after Isobel died back in July, the midwife from the village had suggested bedrest. Ian sided with the stubborn woman, damn the man. At least she followed Deanna's orders to boil everything in hot water for the birth without complaint.

  She missed Isobel with a vengeance right now. A tear slid down to mix with the sweat on her face. Ian rushed to wipe her forehead with a damp cloth, his hand trembling as it lingered.

  "Are you in much pain?" His troubled eyes swept over her, hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know where to touch without hurting her. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, laughing, cursing him.

  "It will be over soon," the midwife answered for her with quiet authority. Deanna couldn't speak anyway, as another contraction hit her barrel-like body.

  Time ceased all meaning as Deanna's muscles followed a rhythm she couldn't control. At last her yelling was replaced by the squall of a baby.

  "You have a son!" the woman proclaimed at last.

  Ian dropped to his knees beside the bed and stroked her cheek with soft fingers. "Thank you, mo chridhe."

  She saw the triumph in his eyes and gave a weak laugh at the proud da.

  He took the baby from the midwife and carried him stiff-armed over to her, his expression anxious, as if he might break a delicate bit of china. The babe began to suckle as soon as he laid him on her chest and Ian watched, transfixed, one finger caressing the head of dark hair.

  "You are loved, William," he whispered. "Welcome to the family."

  Deanna smiled at the name, chosen to honor their good friend William Munro. You have a grandson, Dad. She hoped that somehow he'd know, five hundred years in the future.

  "Out with you now," the midwife informed Ian, "while we get the Lady and bairn cleaned up."

  Ian lingered for a moment longer, unable to tear his gaze away from his son.

  "It won't be for too long," Deanna said softly. "Go tell everyone."

  That got him out the door and Deanna heaved a sigh of relief. She was so tired. With
the women clucking around her, she fell asleep.

  When Deanna woke up later, she found Ian sitting on the bed beside her, their son nestled in his arms. He sang a soft tune in Gaelic, the melody a bit too rousing to be a lullaby.

  "That sounds rather energetic to put a child to sleep." She hid a smile as his cheeks grew pink.

  "'Tis a warrior's tune, sung the night before a battle."

  Her heart contracted with his offhand words and she fell silent as he started to sing again. This was a hard life but she'd chosen it with her eyes open. Now she had to learn to deal with it.

  Every mother wishes the best for her children and seeks to protect them, regardless of the century. All she can do is love them and raise them right. In the end, she has to let them go. They'll have their own lives to live, their own destinies to fulfill.

  A certain peace stole over her, a reminder to live in the moment and be thankful for today. When she'd first come back, Deanna had tried to tell Ian about the headstone in the graveyard and the history that said he'd die at Flodden Field in 1513. He'd shushed her, telling Deanna to enjoy today, as no one knew what tomorrow would bring. She'd been resentful at first but came to understand what he meant. Since then, she'd kept his words in her heart, a bright flame of joy to reflect on in times of trouble.

  Ian stood up with exaggerated care and slipped William into the cradle by the bed. Deanna smiled at the memory of Ian dashing in here two weeks ago with the tiny bed, proudly displaying the finished product. Her heart had melted at the sight of his enthusiasm.

  "I love you," she whispered and Ian turned to her with so much love in his eyes that she thought she'd burst with emotion.

  "And I love you." He crawled back onto the bed and held her against his chest, the beat of his heart thrumming through her body until hers kept time with his as one rhythm born of hope.

  Yes, she belonged here, no matter what tomorrow may bring. They would always have this moment to share. The rest could wait.