Midnight's Master

by Donna Grant

  Gwynn turned off the car and got out. She could feel magic around her. Wonderful, beautiful bright magic. Hadn’t Logan said there was a shield of some kind around MacLeod Castle?

  “Help,” she yelled. “I’m with Logan! He’s dying! Please, help me…” she trailed off as the tears she’d held back finally fell.

  There was a flap of wings behind her. Gwynn whirled around to find an indigo Warrior with huge, leathery wings staring at her.

  “Logan,” she said and pointed into the car. “He was shot with drough blood.”

  “Shite,” the Warrior murmured before he yelled, “Fallon!”

  In an instant, a black-skinned Warrior stood beside them. “Logan?” he said as he ducked his head inside the car.

  “Drough blood,” the indigo Warrior said.

  Fallon nodded as he pulled Logan from the car and draped him over his shoulder. Fallon’s black Warrior eyes landed on Gwynn. “Bring her.”

  “I’ll take the car,” said another black Warrior with two small braids at either side of his temples.

  Gwynn didn’t have time to utter a sound as the indigo Warrior scooped her up in his arms and jumped into the air. She clung to him as they rose, his huge wings carrying them through the magic shield she had sensed.

  And then she saw the castle. It rose from the cliffs majestically, magically. Its gray stones had been weathered by time until the color was only slightly lighter than those of the cliffs that flanked it on either side.

  Gwynn barely had time to look at the castle with its four massive round towers before she was set on her feet in the bailey.

  The indigo Warrior took her hand and led her up the stairs and into the castle.

  Gwynn saw several women and men rushing up the stairs, most likely to tend to Logan. Thankfully, the quiet indigo Warrior finally released her from his ironclad hold.

  She wasn’t sure if she would be allowed to follow the others to see Logan. And then suddenly, she didn’t think she could as her strength began to wane.

  Gwynn gripped the edge of the long table that sat in the middle of the great hall. She smiled as she saw the tapestries that had been mended and hung on the walls. Those tapestries were worth a fortune, but she couldn’t imagine them looking as grand anywhere else.

  She turned her head and spotted the huge fireplace off to her right. The fire beckoned as all warmth left her. She was so cold her teeth were chattering. Gwynn would have gladly curled up in the fire if she could.

  It was most likely the events at Declan’s mansion, the use of her power, and her fear that were making her so cold. She’d been running on an adrenaline rush that was wearing off. Yet this feeling was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

  Gwynn had taken only a couple of halting steps toward the fire when the room began to spin and pain slammed into her body. She closed her eyes, but it only made the room spin faster.

  She pried open her eyes and tried to focus on the chairs before the fire. If she could only reach them, she’d be able to sit and figure out why she was hurting so. That was all she needed, just to sit down.

  Gwynn took another step, and then another. Each time, she felt as if her body were freezing where she stood. She listed to the side as the dizziness grew.

  And then she was falling.

  Gwynn reached out to grab hold of something, anything, but only air met her fingers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Lucan walked into the castle and tossed the keys to the red car he’d just driven into the bailey in the air. As the keys landed in his palm, he hurried to the stairs.

  He had just stepped on the first stair when he turned his head and found the woman who had brought Logan to the castle, lying on the floor.

  Lucan threw the keys onto the table and rushed to her. He touched her skin to find it cool and clammy. The blood spreading on the floor wasn’t a good sign.

  “Cara!” he shouted.

  In an instant, his wife was running down the stairs. “What happened?”

  “I found her like this.”

  Cara ran to his side and knelt beside the woman. “There’s so much blood.”

  “I thought it was Logan’s because he was bleeding so badly, but with all this blood, I’d say she’s wounded, too.”

  “I need her jacket and sweater removed.”

  Lucan didn’t hesitate to lengthen a black claw and cut through the thick coat, the sweater, and the shirt beneath until only the woman’s bra remained.

  Cara tilted her head to the side. “She’s been shot in the arm.”

  “It looks to have gone straight through.”

  “And into her side,” Cara said as she rose to her feet. “Bring her, Lucan. We need to get her healed immediately.”

  Lucan gathered the woman in his arms and followed his wife up the stairs. “She’s a Druid.”

  “Then we really need to save her.” Cara pushed open a door to one of the chambers. “I’ll get Sonya. Keep pressure on the wounds to slow the bleeding.”

  Cara pushed up the sleeves to her sweater and ran down the hall to Logan’s chamber. She threw open the door to find everyone around the bed.

  “Do something,” Hayden demanded of Sonya. “He’s dying.”

  “There’s so much drough blood inside him,” Sonya said as she held her hands over Logan’s still body.

  Cara lifted her gaze from the bed where Logan lay on his side and met the eyes of her brothers-in-law, Fallon and Quinn. “The woman who came with Logan—”

  “The Druid?” Fallon asked.

  “Aye. She’s injured. Badly. The bullet went through her arm and into her side.”

  Sonya shook her head from the side of Logan’s bed. “I cannot be in two places at once.”

  Broc, Sonya’s husband, touched her arm. “I survived with drough blood inside me.”

  “But Deirdre prevented it from affecting you fully.”

  “Can none of the Druids here do that?”

  Sonya frowned. “It will only respond to black magic.”

  Isla stepped forward. “Then let me try.”

  “Someone do something.” Fallon ran a hand down his face, his frustration showing in the way his lips flattened.

  Cara shifted feet. She had learned much about magic in the four hundred years she had been a Druid. Yet, no one could heal by magic except Sonya.

  “I’m holding the drough blood at bay,” Isla said as she held her hands over Logan’s body. “I don’t know how long I can, though.”

  Logan stirred, his groan of pain echoing around the chamber. He opened his eyes and winced when he tried to turn over.

  “Nay,” Hayden said and put his big hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You need to be still.”

  “Gwynn?” Logan said.

  Cara stepped closer to the bed. “She’s been injured.”

  Logan dragged in a ragged breath and clenched his jaw. “Save her,” he demanded to the room at large.

  “You have too much drough blood in you,” Quinn began.

  “Save her,” Logan said more forcefully, which caused him to groan in pain.

  Fallon looked at Isla. “Can you hold back the drough blood as Deirdre did for Broc?”

  “I’m doing it now, but it’s been in his system for so long that it’s fighting against me.”

  Fallon nodded. “Sonya, see to Gwynn. We’ll keep Logan alive until you return.”

  Cara let out a breath as she and Sonya raced to the other chamber.

  “How bad is Gwynn’s wound?” Sonya asked.

  Cara shrugged. “She’s lost a lot of blood. The bullet is still inside her.”

  Sonya walked with sure steps to the bed where Lucan was holding towels over Gwynn’s wounds. “Let me see,” Sonya urged.

  Lucan rose and moved away while Cara took her position on the other side of the bed. When Sonya had to heal multiple people, it helped if someone added their magic to hers.

  Sonya passed her hand over Gwynn’s body and frowned. “The bullet is lodged in her ribs.”r />
  “Can you remove it?” Lucan asked.

  “I think so.”

  Cara licked her lips and rubbed her hands together to warm them before she held them palm down over Gwynn’s body. Cara closed her eyes and felt her magic move swift and sure to her hands before she released it to mix with Sonya’s.

  Lucan never got tired of seeing the magic of the Druids at work. He would rather the woman not be injured, but he was confident Sonya could save her. It was Logan he was worried about.

  In a matter of moments, the bullet wounds on Gwynn’s arm began to close until there was only pink skin showing. It took Sonya longer to dislodge the bullet from the woman’s ribs, but with a clink, it fell from the wound onto the floor.

  “Finally,” Sonya whispered.

  That’s when Lucan noted the sweat beading the healer’s brow. “Is she mended?”

  “Nearly.”

  Lucan let out a sigh several moments later, when Sonya and Cara dropped their arms.

  “Gwynn is healed,” Sonya announced. “But it will take some time for her body to restore the blood she lost.”

  Cara covered Gwynn with a blanket, then set about removing her boots. “I’ll see to her. Go to Logan.”

  Lucan held back until Cara smiled at him. “You, too, husband. I know you’re worried about Logan.”

  Lucan winked at her. “Shout if you need me.”

  “I always need you.”

  He smiled before he pivoted and strode to Logan’s chamber. Once inside, he walked to his brothers. “Gwynn is healed.”

  “That’s good,” Fallon murmured. “I’d tell Logan, but he lost consciousness a few minutes ago.”

  Lucan crossed his arms over his chest and studied Logan’s pale form. “So he was worried about her?”

  “You could say that,” Quinn said with a snort. “Demanded we heal her before him.”

  “I’ve waited four hundred years for the Warriors to return. I never imagined one might show up near death,” Fallon said.

  Lucan put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Logan is a fighter. He’ll survive.”

  “By all that’s holy,” Reaghan exclaimed as she held something small in her hand.

  Galen peered over his wife’s shoulder. “What is that?”

  “A bullet,” Sonya answered. “A bullet that was filled with drough blood.”

  “Holy Hell,” Quinn muttered.

  There was no more talking as Logan let out a silent breath. And his chest didn’t rise again.

  Without a word, the Druids gathered around the bed and combined their magic with Sonya’s. Tense minutes filled with concern and unease passed until finally Logan took a deep breath.

  “It’s not over,” Sonya said before anyone could celebrate. “He’s lost too much blood.”

  Hayden held his arm over Logan’s body. “He can have mine.”

  “And mine,” Broc said.

  “He can have everyone’s blood,” Lucan added. “Whatever it takes.”

  Sonya nodded. “Hayden, you first. Cut deep so the blood flows thick. Hold it over the wound.”

  “Which one?” Hayden asked. “His back is full of them.”

  “Pick one,” Cara said.

  Sonya held her breath as her magic coursed through her and into Logan. Logan’s body had begun to shut down as the drough blood killed everything within. She wasn’t sure if she could save him. He’d had the drough blood in him too long. But she wasn’t going to give up. Not yet.

  “Hurry,” she urged as Hayden cut himself for a second time. “The Warrior blood is helping, but not fast enough.”

  Sonya wasn’t surprised when Broc stepped beside Hayden and cut his arm so his blood flowed into another wound.

  Soon, each Warrior had taken responsibility for one of Logan’s wounds. Sonya blinked away the threat of tears as she saw how the Warriors banded together.

  “Almost,” she said when she could feel Logan’s body begin to work on its own.

  Ten minutes later, Sonya not only felt, but saw, his wounds beginning to heal.

  “That’s enough,” she told the Warriors.

  She dropped her hands and the other Druids did the same. Sonya was drained, both physically and magically, but she smiled for the first time since Fallon had arrived with Logan’s body over his shoulder.

  “Good,” Broc said as he wrapped an arm around her. “Now someone tell me how the bloody Hell there are bullets with drough blood inside them?”

  Galen shrugged. “Deirdre?”

  “Nay,” Lucan said. “I doona think she’s here in this time yet.”

  “Then who?” Fallon asked.

  Larena said, “Maybe the person who pulled Deirdre and Ian to this time.”

  No one groaned out loud, but it was written on their faces.

  Sonya took one of the poisoned bullets and wiped off the blood. “For Logan’s attackers to have drough blood, they have to have a drough.”

  Hayden shrugged. “Exactly. What’s your point?”

  She looked at each person in the chamber. “We’ve all watched as the Druids disappeared, mostly because of Deirdre, but also because they no longer practiced. Whoever did this is not only a drough, but is intelligent enough to create something like this.”

  “You’re assuming this drough thought up these bullets,” Broc said. “It could be someone else.”

  “Nay, Sonya’s right,” Quinn said. “Why would someone else no’ a Druid create these bullets? How would they know how the drough blood would react to us?”

  Marcail sighed and spoke for the first time. “Because, my love, they must know of your existence. Not just from stories. They know you’re here.”

  “We’re speculating,” Reaghan said. “As soon as Logan and Gwynn wake we will learn the details.”

  “That’s my woman,” Galen said as he pulled her tight against him. “She’s always thinking ahead.”

  Reaghan rolled her eyes, but she smiled when he kissed her.

  Sonya looked at Logan and noticed he wasn’t wearing a kilt. “We need to get these clothes off Logan.”

  Blood was everywhere, even in his boots. Everything was tossed to the side and would be burned later. Isla covered Logan with a blanket while Hayden pulled one of the chairs to the bed and sank into it.

  “Until we know what we’re dealing with, we need to set up patrols,” Fallon said.

  Quinn nodded. “I’ll take the cliffs.”

  “I’ll keep to the skies,” Broc said.

  Galen said, “I’ll be in the village.”

  When Fallon looked at Hayden, he raised a blond brow. “I’ll be here.”

  “We can handle the rest,” Lucan said to Fallon. “Leave Hayden.”

  Larena cleared her throat and jabbed Fallon in the ribs. “Are you forgetting me?”

  “Never,” he said and took her hand. “You’ll be with me. Lucan, keep your lookout atop one of the towers.”

  Hayden watched them leave. Isla ran her hand through his hair before she kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back later to see if you need anything.”

  He nodded and leaned forward in the chair. A moment later, Isla followed the rest of the group out of the chamber.

  Only then did Hayden say to Logan, “Wake up, damn you. Wake up and tell me the name of the bastard who did this to you and Gwynn so we can kill them.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Declan glared at the shambles that had once been his office. His haven.

  Despite his black magic, despite the mercenaries he had hired, and despite the X90s, both Logan and Gwynn had gotten away. Though Declan didn’t expect Logan to live long.

  No Warrior could withstand a drop of drough blood inside them much less the amount contained in the special bullets that had hit Logan.

  Despite that, Logan had managed to stay on his feet. Mostly. Declan wanted to know what made the Warrior so different from the others.

  “No’ that it matters. Logan is dead,” Declan mumbled to himself.

  That wa
s the only consolation on a day that had turned into hell. However, he would soon have Gwynn under his roof once more. The Druid was too valuable as a tool against Gary.

  Also, Gwynn had magic. It might be the inferior mie variety, but it was magic.

  A grin pulled one side of his lips. He would use Gwynn to find the Tablet of Orn and warm his bed. Once she became useless, he would kill her and take her magic.

  Declan clasped his hands behind his back and inhaled as he heard Robbie approaching. “How many men did you lose?”

  “Half.”

  Declan turned his head toward Robbie. “You’re losing men faster than you’re replacing them.”

  “There are always more men, Declan.”

  Declan shrugged. “True enough. The X90s worked well.”

  “No’ well enough. The bloke wouldna stay down.”

  “Forget Logan. He’s dead by now. The only people who could help Logan are Deirdre and me. I’m no’ about to, and since Deirdre has no idea what’s going on, she willna be helping him.”

  Robbie laughed. “You are a cruel git, Declan.”

  “You have no idea.” He waved at his office. “I want this cleaned up immediately,” he said and walked from the room.

  There was someone he needed to see, someone who would pay for not warning him that a Warrior would enter his home.

  December 21st

  Logan took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. His body was sore, but it was no longer on fire as it had been.

  “It’s about damn time you woke.”

  Logan smiled as he heard Hayden’s deep voice. Logan turned his head to find his closest friend sitting beside the bed. Hayden hadn’t changed much, except his hair was a little shorter—though still long by most standards.

  “You know how I like to keep you waiting.”

  “No’ funny,” Hayden said, his expression serious.

  “I know. How long have I been unconscious?”

  Hayden shrugged and sat back in his chair. “Five hours.”

  Logan sighed and used his arms to lift himself and scoot backward so he leaned against the headboard. “I take it my wounds were as bad as they felt.”

  “Worse. You were all but dead when we brought you into the castle.”