Chapter Twenty-Three
The moon shimmered over the low stone wall around Farren’s estate. Caitlin lay on a plush mattress in one of the upstairs bedrooms, staring out the window. Two wolves played tag around the edge of the property, and the absurdity of the game brought an odd laugh bubbling up until the tears spilled over.
After finding nothing at the castle or Fergus’s home, they’d returned to Farren’s. Caitlin spent an hour with the book, using Farren’s laptop to try to translate the ancient form of Gaelic, but when the words started to blur, she reluctantly admitted defeat and trudged up to the bedroom she and Liam had claimed before—a sob welled up, and she broke, her tenuous control shattering with a waterfall of tears.
“Caitlin?”
Turning over, Caitlin swiped at her cheeks.
Farren ran a hand through her silvery hair as she came to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are ya having trouble sleeping, luv? Ya won’t do him any good if ya can’t keep yer eyes open.”
“I tried. But every time I close my eyes I see Liam…dead. Fergus took him six hours ago.”
Farren slid down and wrapped her arms around Caitlin. “Liam’s the strongest wolf I’ve ever met. And he loves ya. That’s a powerful motivator, yeah?”
“Not powerful enough.” Despair forced more tears from her already swollen eyes. “What if I can’t find him? What if I can’t figure out that damn book and help Mara? Everything I translate sounds like gibberish—worse than Paddy’s ramblings. Riddles and nonsense. I need to save Liam, Mara, and even Fergus with words no one can understand? I can’t. And every minute that passes…Fergus won’t let Liam live.”
“There’ll be no more of that talk. I’m goin’ to tell ya a story, and ye’re going to close yer eyes and try to relax. And after a few hours, we’ll go back to that cursed book and find a way to break that feckin’ charm. Ya can’t give up because Liam needs ya.” Farren tucked the blankets tighter around Caitlin and smoothed a hand over her hair.
“My da ran our pack, and just after my fifth birthday, Liam and his family joined us. He’s only a few months older than I am, and no other pups had been born for years. So we bonded. I suppose his father’s role as beta helped, for we spent a lot of time together trying to listen in when our parents met to discuss pack business. My mum worked for the Garda. Detective.” Farren’s voice swelled with pride. “She could tell any time a suspect lied to her. There’s a scent, yeah? Like fear. Ya sweat more when ya lie.”
Caitlin almost laughed. That couldn’t have been pleasant.
Farren rested her head against the headboard. “Liam and I were in school together, yeah? And a fair bit of trouble we got into—almost had our parents convinced to keep us permanently separated. We were, eh, maybe fifteen or so, and we decided that we’d go to this rock concert in the worst neighborhood in Dublin. Knife fights, killings, drug trade—there was a reason our parents told us no. But we were young and stupid, yeah?
“Sure enough, we no sooner get there, and the whole place is raided. Some feckin’ drug ring using the pub as a home base. Liam and I end up running for our lives, caught up in a group of miscreants, probably the only sober ones of the bunch. Once we were far enough away to be safe, they turned on us. Wanted every bit of cash we had. When we refused, one of them drew a switchblade. Of course, we weren’t afraid of a wee knife, but the ringleader—he was a wolf. Nearly choked on our tongues when he told us. But Liam being Liam, he starts chatting the guy up about how we’re the worst choice to kill because of some ridiculous connection we have to the Irish mafia, and if they just let us go, we’d be willing to overlook their mistake.”
“They didn’t believe you.” Caitlin couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face.
Farren grinned at the memory, her fine features softening with amusement. “Aye, they did. That boy could spin a tale like no one else. And he never quit—even when we were backed into a corner, he kept going until they listened.”
Caitlin shook her head, wondering at the boy and young man Liam had been. “I’ve never seen that side of him.”
Sobering, Farren’s mouth tightened with sadness and stress as she continued. “Ya haven’t known Liam long, Caitlin. And while you’ve known him, ya’ve always been on the run. He’s tougher than he looks, and not just because he’s got a thick pelt—and a hard head.” Farren offered a solemn wink. “He’s pure stubbornness and steel, that one. Don’t underestimate him. Ya find us Fergus, and we’ll beat him.”
Caitlin closed her eyes. Beating Fergus—at least in the way they’d intended—might not be an option any longer. “I don’t know that I can do anything but kill him.”
“Then ya kill him.”
“It’s not that simple. He’s being driven mad, Farren. Fergus—the boy I knew—might still be in there. I can’t read much of the book, but this much I know: more than one element drives elementals insane. The elders insisted that something in this book could heal Mara. If so, then we could probably rescue Fergus as well.” Her conviction strengthened with each word.
"He wasn't always like this. I can remember who he was as a child--hear his laughter, see the joy in his eyes when we worked charms. He loved me, as much as he understood love, and I tried to help him scare the shadows away, even though I was never enough.
"I know he's a monster now--he has Liam. I can barely breathe when I think of how Fergus is making Liam pay for loving me." A sob choked her voice, and she swallowed hard before she continued. "Can we really kill him when we might be able to save him?”
Farren withdrew a few inches, quiet in contemplation. “Cade told me a bit about ya, yeah? About what happened to ya with Mara’s sister.”
Caitlin stared at her hands, the leather cuff around her wrist offering little distraction against the humiliation and guilt that squeezed her chest.
“Ya feel guilty, even though it wasn’t your fault. And that’s reasonable, perhaps even appropriate, given the few details I know. Fergus is not like ya, Caitlin. He’s killed a lot of people, and he has only his foolishness to blame.” Farren’s tone softened. “I understand yer wish to be compassionate, and I commend ya for trying to see what Fergus might have been, even if I detest the man myself. But if there is good in him left, what kind of life could he live, knowing what he’d done? If he was half the man ya say he was, he’d wish himself dead, if only to escape the reality of who he’s become.”
Caitlin’s eyes burned with unshed tears, for the Fergus who might have been. For Liam, who unknowingly had ended up in his path. For her own agony as she relived her past actions, unintentional as they may have been, each day and tried to move forward.
“Killing is not always an act of retribution, luv. Sometimes, it’s an act of mercy. Ya need to remember that, because it's not just you on your own anymore. Ya chose Liam. Ya chose to love him and what comes with him, which means we're all yer family now. We will stand with ya against Fergus. And when the time comes, yer choices could save or hang us all."
***
Dark dreams haunted her fitful sleep, and Caitlin gave up after two hours. Perhaps a shower would help. Fiddling with the antique brass knobs of the claw-foot tub, the amber in her leather cuff on the counter caught the light. Her mother believed in the power of healing stones and had long embraced amber as a way to absorb negative energy.
A tiny snort escaped. After all that had happened, that stone had to be full of what her mother used to call “dark spirits.” She’d have to cleanse the amber and might as well cleanse Mara’s quartz as well. And her own. If nothing else, the process would distract her from playing the events at Diedre’s over and over again in her mind. She should have stopped Liam from tackling Fergus, fought harder. Perhaps she’d be in Fergus’s clutches now, but if she’d been stronger, they all could have walked away. And if not, she’d be in Liam’s place.
The hot water soothed her sore muscles. Any other time, she’d relish a soak in a tub this big, but now, she stayed only long enough to wash the dirt and
grime from her skin. She plaited her hair and then, needing to feel closer to her mate, dabbed a drop of his aftershave behind her ear. Black leggings went on under one of his flannel shirts, and once she’d tugged on her boots, she grabbed the white sage smudge stick and the smoky quartz she habitually carried in her wallet.
Only a few lights blazed downstairs. A wolf curled up on one of the couches—Tierney by the color of his fur, and low snoring rumbled towards the back of the house. Ewan perhaps? Cade and Mara had a room not far from hers. A silver wolf paced outside. Farren.
Caitlin slipped out the door and sat at a small table, spreading her tools in front of her. She didn’t want to wake Mara, but she could cleanse the amber and her own quartz now and do Mara’s later.
Farren padded over and gave her an inquisitive yip.
“You understand me, right?” She’d never asked Liam what happened when he shifted, but Mara seemed able to communicate with Cade in wolf form. Farren nodded her head. “I’m going to cleanse the crystals. We’ve had too much negative energy hit us. Maybe this will help.”
With an affirmative bark, Farren lay down at Caitlin’s feet and leaned her massive body against Caitlin’s shins. The warmth of the wolf comforted her, and she reached down to stroke the animal’s fur. Farren’s tail thumped on the stones.
“You like that?” Another thump. “I didn’t expect you to be…soft.”
Farren’s reply sounded almost like a laugh.
“When I light the sage, focus your thoughts on Liam. On finding him.” She spread the leather cuff over a baseball-sized rock she’d found at the edge of the small stone patio and nestled the smoky quartz in the multi-colored braid before touching a match to the smudge stick. White smoke swirled around her, calming her frayed nerves. Drawing a rune in the air over the stones, she offered up her intention. For Liam. For Mara. For me. Protect us all.
Cleansing took a lot out of her—the intense focus she sent into the task always left her spent, but under the light of the full moon, the sage energized her. She finished her task by drawing two final runes: one over Farren’s wolf and one over her own heart.
Farren barked her thanks. The stones needed to recharge now, and moonlight would help. Caitlin left the bracelet and quartz on the rock and retrieved the ancient book. Even though she couldn’t read many of the words, some of the pages contained carefully drawn images. She’d find something. She had to.
After a few pages, two words stood out. Cloch and croí. Stone and heart. But how they connected, she couldn’t tell. The French doors to the house clicked as Tierney joined her. He’d shifted back to his human form, and his jeans rustled as he sat down next to her. “Caitlin, ya have to be chilled. Can I get ya a blanket?”
She barely registered the question and countered with one of her own. “Do you speak Gaelic?”
“I do.”
Caitlin turned the book slightly. “What do you make of this phrase?”
“I don’t know much old Gaelic, but something about holding the power close to yer heart?”
“That’s what I thought.” Several pages later, Caitlin frowned. An image depicted two women facing off with one another. One had her arms extended to receive bolts of energy from the other. Between the figures, the book’s author wrote the old Gaelic word for “heart.”
Nothing made sense. Could the two sisters send and receive their elements at will? If so, could Caitlin and Fergus do the same? Could Caitlin and Mara? This book held all of the keys, if only she could decipher them.
Distracted, Caitlin reached for the leather Liam had given her. She fingered the supple cuff, running her thumb over the now-cleansed amber. An odd crinkle sounded, and she abandoned the book for a moment. Under the braided leather that held the amber, Caitlin found a small pocket. “Oh, Liam,” she said quietly and slid a finger inside, finding a folded slip of paper.
Mo chuisle, mo chroí. My pulse, my heart. A tear landed on the book and seeped into the ancient parchment. A cool, fresh resolve spread through her, calming the burning pain of her missing element. Liam loved her, and she would find him and defeat Fergus. And save Mara. And herself. She slipped the paper back into the pocket along with the smoky quartz. Keeping the crystal close had to help.
Turning another page, Caitlin gasped. Here, a bit of modern Gaelic decorated the margin next to another image that showed the two women separated by a massive burst of power. “Oh my God.”
“Caitlin?” Tierney leaned forward and read. “’Two cannot coexist. What I cannot give, she must take. The four points hold the key. Earth, air, fire, and water. If I die before she finds what she needs, may my children not suffer my fate.’”
“Holy shit,” Caitlin said and turned to Tierney. “I have an idea.”
***
Liam couldn’t stop shaking, which only made the agony of his injuries worse. Numbness enveloped his left arm, but the rest of his body hurt with every breath. He needed to pop his shoulder back in the socket, but with several broken ribs, the smallest movement threatened to send him into unconsciousness again.
When he’d come to, alone, he’d been shocked. Fergus wanted his death. Why hadn’t he followed through on his threats? Remorse? The drugs? Had the insanity passed long enough for him to spare Liam? He wasn’t sure he had the strength to shift, but he tried anyway, holding onto the smallest hope that Fergus had released the charm.
But within seconds of reaching for his wolf, the beast shrank into the depths of his consciousness. Fuck. Caitlin, I’m sorry, luv. Fight. I won’t survive this, but you can.
The full moon twisted his emotions, wrenching a hoarse scream from his bruised and bloodied lips. Memories of Caitlin both comforted and shattered him: her scent, her kiss, her fingers in his hair, and the breathy moan she made when he slipped inside her.
At least he didn’t think Fergus had her. Yet.
Another howl escaped, this one nothing but pure, unadulterated anguish. He needed his mate. To shift. To rip Fergus limb from limb. But he could do none of those things. He couldn’t even move. He’d be lucky to survive until the moon set.
The rasping, metallic scrape of the lock made him flinch. He couldn’t take much more. For a moment, he prayed Fergus would end his torment. Death would bring an escape from the pain.
Light flooded the small space. The scent of the sea wafted over him, the salty freshness mixing with Fergus’s dark, loamy earth and the coppery scent of Liam’s blood. He couldn’t be far from the ocean. Still in Doolin? Lahinch? Caitlin could find him, couldn’t she?
“I thought about what ya said. I’ll give ya to yer pack—a peace offering in exchange for Catie. But first, ya call her so she knows ye’re alive and get her to agree.” Fergus held out Liam’s mobile phone. The cracked screen still glowed, and through the swollen slits of his eyes, he made out the highlighted name. Caitlin.
Relief and the desperate need to speak to Caitlin warred with the urge to protect her however he could. He couldn’t let her put herself in Fergus’s thrall once more. No matter how strong she’d become, the danger of her slipping under his control couldn’t be ignored.
“No,” Liam whispered. Relief had a corner of his mouth tugging into a half-smile. He would die now, at peace knowing Caitlin lived free. And by the look in Fergus’s eyes, he’d go to his death soon.
Fergus kicked Liam in his injured hip, and a weak scream pierced the air. “I won’t ask again.”
“Good. I can’t stand lookin’ at yer face any longer. Go ahead and kill me, ya coward. I won’t help ya hurt Caitlin.”
Fergus grabbed him by his hair. “I never hurt Catie.”
“That’s rich.” Liam’s chin hit the dirt, and he barely avoided biting through his own tongue. With all of his remaining strength, Liam rolled over onto his back and blinked up at Fergus. The earth elemental reached for the bottle of pills and shook two into his mouth. Liam had a chance if he could time his questions to coincide with the momentary sanity from the drugs. “How many times did ya beat her?”
>
“Never.” Fergus’s voice softened to child-like innocence as the drugs worked their way into his system. “I showed her how much I needed her…how much I hurt whenever she ran away.”
“With…yer…fists?”
A shadow passed over Fergus’s face, and he knelt down next to Liam. “I hurt her?”
“Ya need…to let her go.” Liam reached out for Fergus’s knee. The man flinched and slapped his hand away. “Give her back her element. Please.”
“And let ya go, too?” Fergus leapt up and started to pace the room. “Did ya please her?”
Liam didn’t know how to answer. Would any response keep Fergus from descending into madness again? In the end, only one answer rose to the surface. “I love her.”
“Did ya fuck her?” Fergus stopped, strode over to Liam, and pressed his boot into Liam’s broken leg.
Liam screamed, and his wolf pulsed under his skin. The pain fuzzed his mind. Caitlin. He needed Caitlin. Even as he writhed in agony, he considered the irony of the situation: two men, both desperate for Caitlin. Unlike Fergus, though, he’d sacrifice his life to keep her safe.
“Ye’re not better than me, wolf.”
So kill me and be done with it. A cold sweat covered him. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Nothing made sense. Fergus ranted. Pacing. Panting. Kicking. The ground shook. Air churned. Caitlin. He needed Caitlin.
“She loves you.” Fergus towered over him. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and spun it in his fingers. “Until ye’re dead, she’ll never be mine. Once ye’re gone, she’ll be too weak to resist. She’ll come back to me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Liam managed. “Dead or alive…she’ll never…be…yours. Go to hell.”
“Ye’re goin’ first.” The blade flashed, sinking between Liam’s ribs. He couldn’t manage enough energy to flinch. The pain barely registered. Blood: warm and wet and sticky gushed over his side. “Shite. Catie. I need Catie. Ya had eleven years with her. Tell me how to win her back.”
A Shift in the Air Page 20
