Beyond A Highland Whisper

by Maeve Greyson

  Nessa realized the first strike was her only chance. With the madness she’d seen reflected in Gabriel’s eyes, negotiation would be senseless. Years ago, she’d killed a man while defending Trish. If needed, she would kill Gabriel to save her own.

  She formed all the burning candles into a blazing pillar on the floor, wincing as she brushed against the raw flesh on her wrists. With a hissing gasp, Nessa cringed as one of the wounds cracked open to bleed. There wasn’t time now. She had to plan her attack. She’d deal with her wounds later.

  Nessa picked up the spiked candelabra, hefting the weight of it in her hands and nodded in satisfaction. She was lucky. It stood even with her shoulders. If the stand had been any taller, she’d never be able to balance it when she thrust. Taking a deep breath, a strange calm settled over her. She intended to surprise Gabriel just as soon as he walked through the door. Surprise was a better weapon then the candelabra.

  A muffled scrape sounded on the other side of the door, a thudding sound echoing closer with a rhythm of footsteps. It was the sound of hard-heeled boots hitting stone as they approached from down the hall.

  Nessa clutched the candelabra to her side like a javelin, bracing her feet as she pressed her back against the wall. She held her breath as the key turned in the lock, the rusty tumblers grumbling in protest at being disturbed.

  Pushing the door open, Gabriel left his chest exposed. His left arm held back the heavy door, while his right relaxed at his side. Now. Sensing her opportunity, Nessa lunged with the shaft, aiming for the underbelly of the beast. Propelling forward, she shoved the spike upward with as much force as she could thrust. She grunted as the rod sank deep into its mark, planting her feet and holding fast.

  Gabriel’s mouth fell open. His shocked eyes blinked, his clutching hands trembled at the shaft of iron shoved up beneath his ribcage. He staggered back against the opened door, gawking at the blood as it poured out over his hands. He gasped for air as his lungs collapsed. Gabriel focused on Nessa in disbelief. He slid to the ground, blood bubbled from his lips. Gabriel stared at her as he struggled to shake his head.

  “Ye stupid bitch,” he gurgled through dying lips. His eyes glazed over into an eerie stare as Nessa watched him shudder and then relax, deathly still.

  Nessa hugged herself to stop her shaking and stared down at his paling form. She almost felt sorry for him lying there, now helpless in a pool of his own blood. It seemed suddenly ironic. Just a few weeks ago, she’d been horrified by the nightmare of his beheading. Now he’d died by her own hands and she felt nothing as she wiped the blood off her arms where he’d spit on her with his dying breath.

  Nessa stepped over his outstretched legs, never taking her eyes from him as she eased toward the opened door. Did something just move? Surely, it was just a death twitch. Holding her breath, Nessa peered closer, a peculiar chill gripping her body. Inky fog circled and rose out of the center of Gabriel’s chest. Hypnotized by the strange, curling black mist, Nessa wondered if Gabriel’s wicked soul sought escape to the other side. But as she stood frozen in horrified fascination, the mist rose and grew until it formed a column just a little taller than Nessa.

  Swirling and roiling, the heavy mist swelled and receded until it sculpted itself into the voluptuous shape of a curvaceous woman.

  “Surely ye didna think I would ever allow Latharn to find happiness when he refused to give contentment to me?” Bloodred lips curved into a malicious smile, the mysterious woman smoothed her ebony hair away from her face. “I was positive once the fool’s mother took her life, the madness would have him begging me to save his soul. Had he done that, I would have brought ye back through time to release him from the bauble. I might have even let ye live in the past with some sheep herder or some other smelly Highlander of your own.” With a wicked laugh, the seductress added, “Contrary to what ye might have heard, there have been times when Deardha has been merciful.”

  Smoothing her hands down her waspish waist, she drummed her ivory fingertips atop her generous hips. Her pouting lips pulled into a venomous sneer as Deardha eyed Nessa up and down. “The man must be insane to think himself in love with a little chit such as you. Do ye think perhaps he’s gone blind from his isolation? Perhaps I left him to the crystal too long. Some of my other pets lost their sight while in captivity.” She stopped as if pondering a great mystery. “Some of them even withered and died.”

  Nessa returned the witch’s glare, her body shaking with rage. So she was the one. This bitch was the source of Latharn’s pain. Nessa clenched her fists at her sides. She wasn’t giving Latharn up without a fight. She didn’t care what kind of powers this so-called sorceress possessed. She’d had enough of this twisted fairy tale. Nessa was tired, cold, sore, and hungry and she wasn’t taking any more of this crap. “I think his eyesight is absolutely perfect. After all, he saw you for what you really are.”

  Her heart pounded as her nails dug into her palms. Nessa felt no fear, just pure, unadulterated fury pounding through her veins. She knew there was no way this woman was going to kill her. After all, Deardha needed bait for her trap.

  Deardha moved closer. Her form grew and shifted until she towered over Nessa’s tiny frame. “Ye would be well advised to fear me, little girl. I can send ye to a plane of existence so terrible, your worst nightmares would be a welcomed escape.”

  Nessa remembered what Aveline had told her about Latharn’s protection and decided to put it to the test. If she was going to strike, the time was now while the element of surprise was on her side.

  Nessa whirled with her favorite kickboxing move and her foot connected with Deardha’s jaw. Caught off guard by the force of the impact to her face, Deardha fell hard against the stone wall. As Deardha rubbed her already purpling chin, she rebounded up from the floor. Her eyes glowed with the fury of an enraged beast focusing on its prey. A blue-white fireball appeared, swirling in her trembling hand. Her eyes narrowed as she took aim. The sorceress screeched with the wail of a banshee as she lobbed the fireball at Nessa’s head.

  Nessa dropped to the floor, dodging the explosive missile. She rose and shifted her center of balance from foot to foot. Nessa moved in and landed another blow. She might not have magic, but by the frustration on Deardha’s face, her courage was a force the bana-buidhseach hadn’t expected.

  Another fireball whizzed by her head, so close the room filled with the acrid scent of Nessa’s scorched hair. Nessa grabbed the flaming candles and lobbed them at Deardha’s head. Hot tallow splattered across the crone’s ivory skin. Nessa didn’t know how long they were going to keep up this dance. All she knew was she wasn’t going to be the one to go cowering into the corner.

  “I’m going to kill ye and go after Latharn m’self. I’ve had enough of this insolence.” Deardha rushed at Nessa, her claw-like hands outstretched, features reverting to those of an eon-shriveled creature. As she tried settling her talons into Nessa’s neck, a powerful energy field lifted her off the ground and crashed her against the wall.

  As her beady eyes widened in disbelief, the crone’s snaggled teeth lengthened into snarling fangs. The witch’s face transformed into a hideous beast of rage, her form more repulsive as her fury grew. “This canna be possible. He canna have grown so strong. He was never a master of the Ways.”

  Breathing hard, heart hammering in her chest, Nessa edged her way to the door. She taunted Deardha with her words. “Don’t ever underestimate Latharn’s power. You gave him six hundred years to perfect it. Remember?”

  The crone’s scowl deepened as she rushed the door, her black robes lifting her into the air. Once out in the hall, she passed her hands across the threshold. A pulsating energy field sealed off the portal trapping Nessa inside.

  Her voice deteriorated to the croak of a raven as the she-devil sneered at Nessa from the other side. “Ye shall be the bait for my trap, bitch! I will have Latharn. He will come.”

  Her dark eyes glistened, her head tilted to the side as Deardha clutched her gnarled hands in
front of her. “When I’ve tired of toying with him and cast him into the abyss, then I’ll return to enjoy tormenting you. Ye will find that once your precious Latharn is dead, his protection of ye will be no more.”

  Nessa pounded her fists on the table as Deardha disappeared into an evaporating mist. She heaved the iron candelabra into the energy field, ducking as crackling sparks filled the air.

  Backing into a corner, Nessa slid down to hug her knees. She rested her cheek on her arms.

  All she could do now was conserve her energy, wait for Latharn, and hope he could beat the witch at her own vicious game.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Latharn sat and watched for the first blinding rim of the sun to edge its way over the distant horizon. The holy waters of the prophecy bowl shimmered before him. The glowing moonlight had charged the liquid for hours. All he needed now was for the arc of the breaking sun to banish the stars from the sky. Then he could ask the waters the way to Nessa and he’d have his answer. The goddess moon never lied. It always gave the answers to those who asked…those faithful to the Ways.

  Fiona dozed in Brodie’s protective embrace. As midnight had passed, they’d settled on a heavy bench on the other side of the room. Brodie hadn’t slept. He’d kept silent vigil. Latharn had found comfort in his presence and his loyalty.

  Trish had collapsed into a pitiful ball curled against the base of Latharn’s chair. Tears of guilt had streamed down her face. She’d paced about the room for hours. While she’d paced and apologized to Latharn for allowing Nessa to touch the stone, Latharn had quieted her with a subtle wave of his hand. The tranquility spell would cloud her mind long enough for her to get some much-needed rest. He needed all of them at their sharpest for what lay ahead.

  His gaze found Brodie. Latharn alerted him with a single nod as the sun crested over the hills. He reached down to rest his hand upon Trish’s shoulder and squeezed until she opened her eyes.

  He helped Trish from the floor and motioned her deeper into the room. As he rose from his chair, he nodded toward the bowl where it shimmered upon the pedestal opened to the sky. His voice calm with determination, he said, “’Tis time.”

  Brodie shook Fiona, pressing his lips to her ear and whispered her awake. She stretched like a cat, rose from his arms, and tied her hair back from her eyes. “Do ye need for us to gather anything else? Have we all the tools needed for the spell?”

  Latharn flexed his hands as though warming up for battle and inhaled a cleansing breath. His gaze settling upon Fiona, he spoke in a thoughtful voice as he nodded toward her waist. “Aye, we have everything listed to complete the spell. In fact, we have an added boon. Fiona, since ye carry new life within your body, it will strengthen the vision of the bowl. I want you to be the only one to touch the bowl now that the water has been magically charged.”

  At Trish’s wide-eyed look of confusion, Latharn pointed toward the sky at the fading vision of the almost fully waxed moon. The bright blue brilliance of the early morning was already washing it from the sky.

  “The goddess cherishes all stages of womanhood, but she truly blesses those who lovingly carry within them a child. Fiona carries twins of the MacKay line. The magic already flows in their veins.”

  Fiona lifted the bowl from the pedestal, cradling it between her forearms. She eased her way across the stone floor, gasping as the water slopped dangerously close to the edge.

  One step and then another, she edged her way across the room. She glanced to Latharn for direction. He didn’t say a word, just bestowed a reassuring smile upon her and gestured toward the table.

  Following behind her, Latharn joined Fiona at the table as she lowered the bowl. With his hands on her shoulders and a gentle nod for her to sit, Latharn covered her hands with his own. Her hands trembled beneath Latharn’s strong grasp, her fingers spread upon the stone of the ancient bowl.

  As he trailed his fingers up her arms, he circled around behind her. Hands settling upon her shoulders, Latharn closed his eyes. He’d connect with every power and every force to be found to reclaim his Nessa. The charged water pulsated in the ancient bowl and transmitted power to him through Fiona’s impregnated body. As the magnified energy focused within his body, Latharn opened his eyes. With a nod to Trish and Brodie, he took a deep breath. He was ready to find his Nessa.

  “Close the portal, Brodie. We must have complete darkness. Trish, please extinguish all the flames and then join your hands to Fiona’s.”

  Brodie raised his hands to the sky and closed the room like a giant eyelid. As Trish extinguished every flame, an electrified darkness crackled through the room. The holy water trembled in the scrying bowl on the table and took on an eerie glow.

  His hands still resting on Fiona’s shoulders, Latharn stared unblinking into the shimmering water. Concentrating his powers, his hands warmed as his energy flowed through Fiona’s body into the awaiting bowl.

  “Blessed goddess, I call upon ye to open the veil to my sight. Remove the barriers. Part the mists. Guide us to the one I love. Blessed goddess, I call upon ye to show me who has stolen she who is mine.”

  As Latharn’s words stirred the waters, the prophecy bowl began to spin between Fiona’s hands. Fiona gasped as it broke free of her hold and rose from the surface of the table. It levitated into the air until it floated a few inches above their heads. As the waters swirled, the energy from within the basin emerged into the total darkness just above the bowl’s surface. An image of Nessa appeared in the hovering aura.

  Latharn tensed as Nessa’s bound and blindfolded form shimmered into view. He fought against the rage surging inside him. If his fury took hold of his consciousness, the visions would disappear. He wanted to cry out as he witnessed Nessa tear the flesh on her wrists and wrench her hands free of the cutting ropes. He clenched his fists until his palms bled as Nessa burned her ankles free of the restraints.

  Pride and satisfaction filled him to bursting as Nessa impaled Gabriel with the candelabra spear. His woman’s passion was only rivaled by her courage. He was truly blessed by the goddess to have been matched with such a wondrous soul.

  His elation was short-lived. Bile rose in his throat as he watched the dark bana-buidhseach emerge from Gabriel’s lifeless body. He bit through his lip to stifle a shout as Nessa attacked the sorceress. He marveled at his beloved’s strength and speed. He flinched as Nessa successfully dodged each of the destructive swirling balls of energy the crone lobbed at her head.

  As Deardha disappeared and Nessa sank to the floor in exhaustion, Latharn shuddered and drew a ragged breath. “Show me how to find the one I love. Show me how to bring her home.”

  At first, the aura that had risen from the bowl flickered and hesitated as though about to fade away. The silver mist shimmered as though the veil of magic struggled against some unseen force and was unable to grant Latharn’s request.

  “Show me the way to the one I love. She carries my sons. She carries innocence within her womb. Ye must show me the way to make her safe. Ye must show me the way to bring her home!”

  No sooner had Latharn bellowed the words did the mist strengthen and refocus. It showed the ancient stone mausoleum squatting behind the family chapel residing on the MacKay grounds. Nessa had been right under their very noses, mere yards from where they were currently sequestered in the library of mysteries high within the castle walls.

  Jumping up from the table, Trish headed toward the door, only to be barred by Brodie’s strong, restraining hands. As she tried squirming her way loose, Trish shouted in his face. “Let me go! You saw where she is. Fiona and I walked right past her when we went to get the holy water.”

  With a firm shake of his head, Brodie held her arms tighter, and led her back to sit at the table. “Ye saw the dark witch holding her captive. Ye saw the immense power of the crone and her ability to control the energies. We must carefully form a battle plan before we go rushing into the tomb.”

  Latharn raked his hands through his hair and locked his f
ingers behind his head as he paced about the room. “Aye, this time, ’twill definitely be a battle to the end. And not one I intend to lose.”

  Latharn turned to plunge his hands into the holy water. He flung the droplets into the air and bellowed into the darkness. “Ancestors, I call upon ye to join me! My goddess, hear the call of your son. Grant me my rights as brother to an immortal. Help me destroy this one from the shadows.”

  The droplets of holy water hung suspended and shimmered with a power all their own. Fueled by the authority of Latharn’s summons, they splintered and spun through the air. Whirling above the heads of all in the room, the flowing field of moonlit energy sparkled as it gained momentum. As the hurtling vortex heightened in its intensity, the murmur of many voices rippled through the air. Thunder rumbled deeply, a rising battle cry sounded by all the gathering MacKays as they returned from centuries past.

  All the voices melded into one strong and echoing mantra rumbling clearly throughout the room. “We stand ready, Laird MacKay. ’Tis time for vengeance against this evil foe. The dhubh bana-buidhseach brought down many of this clan. Ye have the power and the right to lead us. Summon us when ready. We will heed your call to send this abomination to the eternal abyss.”

  The storm of energy surrounded Latharn’s body and melded itself into his being. The essence of his ancestors coursed through his body. His mind pulsed with the memories of thousands. His thoughts churned with the knowledge of eons, his ancestors’ strengths now his own. His voice echoed with the voices of his kin as he gestured toward the horizon. “At dawn, we will not only take back what is ours, we shall also right a great many wrongs. As soon as the sun rises, we shall rip the bana-buidhseach’s black soul from this existence and send it deep into the abyss.”