by Willa Blair
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 F
iona’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 fingers 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.”
Trish took a step back and addressed Latharn. “Latharn, once it’s over. Once Nessa is safe…will all the rest of those MacKays…umm…go back where they belong?”
Latharn spread his hands to encase the entire castle and shook his head with a look of pride. “They belong here, Trish. This is the only place where they can find true peace and this is where they shall return. Ye needn’t fear them. They’re guardians to watch over and protect us. They honor us with their presence.”
Fiona squeezed Trish on the shoulder and whispered her agreement. “We’ll need their help in overcoming the Dark One. And ’tis also their natural right. She tortured many of them for centuries and suspended their souls from the peace promised beyond the grave.”
Trish chewed her lower lip and glanced back over at the table at the now lifeless prophecy bowl. “I just wish there was a way we could somehow warn Nessa. I wish we could give her some hope that help is on the way.”
Tinkling laughter trickled out of the darkness as two shimmering women materialized into the room. Each of them rested a hand upon Latharn’s arms as they gazed up at him with pure adoration.
The youngest one affectionately snuggled her cheek to his shoulder and smiled to all in the room. “Have no worry, Trish. Our Nessa may be tiny but she is fearless. Did ye no see how the lass killed the gutless cur and then stood against the Dark One without batting an eye? Her bloodline does the MacKays proud. She’s full of fire, that one is.”
The older woman nodded her agreement. “Aye. Those sons she carries in her womb will inherit her fire as well. Latharn, you’re going to finally pay for your raising. I’ll have my revenge for all the gray hairs you placed on my head! I’m going to truly enjoy watching these grandsons add their stories to the MacKay legends.”
At the shocked looks on Brodie, Trish, and Fiona’s faces, Latharn spread his arms to encircle the two transparent women clinging to his sides. Nodding to the younger of the two, he inclined his head as he began the introductions. “This is my sister, Aveline, immortal consort to the sea god Mannanan mac Lir. How is your husband, my fine little sister? ’Twould be nice if he’d lend his help.”
Aveline waved a glimmering finger in her brother’s face as she gave a pert lift of her chin. “The ancestors and I are all the help ye’ll be needing, my brother. We dinna want to take the joy of vengeance out of the hands of the MacKays.”
Latharn turned to smile into the motherly gaze of the woman at his right and bent to press a kiss against her misty cheek. “This is my mother, Rachel MacKay. Why did ye not join the others inside my body?”
Her eyes flared with six centuries of rage as she hissed her reply. “Your father is within you, along with the others. I choose to stand apart and land a few strikes of my own. Hell hath no wrath like that of a mother avenging her son’s life of pain.”
“Well then.” Trish threw up her hands. “I guess there’s nothing to worry about. But how exactly do you go about yanking a soul out of a witch? From what we saw in the vision, she can change her form. Isn’t it kind of useless to stab a hole in a shifting bank of mist?”
Brodie frowned as he turned the pages of the journal and scanned along the passages. As he glanced up, he locked eyes with Latharn’s watchful gaze. “Nessa willna understand what is happening at first. But once it’s over, hopefully she’ll see why it was done.”
Trish tiptoed to peer over his shoulder. Her eyes widened as she read the instructions on the yellowed page. “You’re right. If this is what you’re going to do and the witch doesn’t kill you, Nessa might be the one you need to fear.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Curled up in a shivering ball on the floor, Nessa drifted in and out of sleep. There wasn’t a square inch of her body not aching from the damp chill seeping up through the stones. She was starving and the brackish water in the bowl on the table had only made her thirst worse.
She’d reduced herself to licking the moisture off the stones in the corner. She’d gagged at the taste of the mildewed droplets, but at least it had helped moisten her dry, cracked lips. As near as she could figure, she had to survive maybe one more day.
Aveline had said Latharn would arrive on the dawn of the autumnal equinox. But with no windows, Nessa had to guess at how much time had passed since she’d been locked away in the room. She also didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious when Gabriel had spelled her into the place. All she knew was she was determined to survive. She’d be damned if that witch would win without a fight.
She felt a presence on the other side of the energy field. Nessa called out as she shielded her eyes. “Who’s there?” she croaked. She tried a futile swallow to clear her throat and ran her dry tongue over her lips. “I know you’re standing there watching me. I can feel your beady little eyes.”
