by Donna Grant
Broc saw Larena’s pain every time Malcolm’s name was mentioned. Everyone knew he was the one who had killed Duncan. And now, Malcolm was set to murder a school full of children.
Although Broc thought of him as a friend, he would not allow Malcolm to kill anyone else.
It was just after noon when Malcolm’s wandering brought him to a primary school. Broc kept himself hidden as Malcolm watched the children run and play, their screams and laughter eaten up by the noise of the city.
Broc didn’t waste another moment as he ran back to the hotel on the other side of the city. It would have been much easier to fly there, but he didn’t think the tourists would appreciate seeing him transform and take flight above them.
By the time he reached the hotel Fallon was outside.
“Get the girls,” Broc said.
Fallon teleported out, and a heartbeat later, he was standing in front of Broc with both Larena and Isla.
“You found the school,” Larena said, her voice flat.
Broc nodded. “We need to get there now.”
Fallon turned and walked into the alley next to the hotel. It was quiet and deserted. A perfect place for Fallon to jump them to the school.
“Which school?” Fallon asked.
He had studied all of them and their locations the day before since he couldn’t teleport to a place he hadn’t been before.
“The one next to the old theater,” Broc answered.
Once they were all touching, Fallon jumped them to an alley near the school.
“There,” Broc said as he jerked his chin to where Malcolm still stood.
Isla squinted into the sun. “What is he doing?”
“Watching the children,” Larena said softly. “He always had a way with children. I used to tease him that they liked him so because they knew he was nothing but a big child.”
Fallon linked his hand with hers. “We willna allow him to kill the children.”
“Bloody Hell,” Isla said, her voice catching.
“What is it?” Broc asked as he looked around.
“Phelan.”
Isla’s softly spoken word had Broc scanning the people for a glimpse of the Warrior Isla had tricked into Cairn Toul Mountain.
“I doona see him,” Broc said.
Fallon growled. “I doona know what he looks like.”
Isla stepped forward. Broc followed where her eyes were trained and saw the dark-headed man staring at Isla. Broc recognized the Warrior instantly.
“It is Phelan.”
“I need to talk to him,” Isla said, but Fallon held her back.
“No’ now. We need Malcolm first.”
By the time Broc looked back to where Phelan had been, the Warrior was gone. “I can find him later, Isla. I promise.”
Isla nodded and took a deep breath as she turned her head back to where Malcolm stood.
Larena looked at Fallon. “I’m going to talk to Malcolm. You be ready to take him to the castle.”
Broc was uneasy with their plan. He wanted to surprise Malcolm and give him no choice but to return to the castle with them. Larena, however, wanted to talk to him first.
They watched as Larena walked to Malcolm. She was twenty paces from him when he suddenly turned and looked at her. Malcolm’s body jerked in surprise.
“He’s going to run,” Broc muttered.
To his disbelief, Malcolm sighed and waited for Larena to reach him.
Malcolm somehow wasn’t shocked to find Larena in Edinburgh. He looked at the tight black jeans she wore tucked into black boots that reached her knees. It made her legs look longer, but then as a Warrior, she had begun to wear trousers long before it was acceptable for women to be seen in them.
He had always admired her fearless outlook on life, the way she rushed into things headstrong and courageous.
“You look good,” he said when she reached him. Her cream coat was buttoned and belted, but it hugged her frame, causing many men to do a double take.
With her golden waves flowing free about her face and reaching her shoulders, she stared at him. “So do you.”
Malcolm glanced down at the faded jeans, chocolate sweater, and scuffed boots he had stolen from some man’s home. It had been easier than he expected to set aside his kilt. After all, he was as good as banished from the clan.
He shrugged. “I’m learning to fit in.”
“What are you doing here?”
Malcolm scanned the area. He knew Larena wasn’t alone. The question was, how many Warriors had she brought with her? “I’m touring Edinburgh. It’s amazing how much it has changed in the four centuries I’ve been gone.”
“Many things have changed.”
“And many things have no’.”
“You don’t have to side with Deirdre.”
Malcolm barked with laughter. “Oh, but I do. You have no idea how persuasive she can be, cousin.”
“Please don’t kill the children,” Larena beseeched.
Malcolm stilled and narrowed his gaze on her. “Why would you think I would do something like that?”
“We have a Seer at the castle. She saw it. The children are innocents. Look at them. Hear their sweet laughter, see their trusting eyes. Please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
“If I doona do it, Deirdre will send another.” There was no use lying to Larena, especially since a Seer had seen the vision of him killing.
It made him ill to think of all those innocents dying. He was searching for a way to find the Druid without killing the children. It was why he had been standing outside the school.
“If you do this, you’ll be lost to me forever.”
Malcolm looked at her. How he’d missed seeing her, missed everyone at the castle. But his path had split from them. He could never return there.
“I’m already lost to you.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
The next morning after a long, hot shower, Danielle had dried her hair and even put on makeup. She wanted to look good for Ian when she went down to see him later. After their passionate night together, there was no denying she had it bad for him.
Really bad.
In all her years of dating she had never met a man as enigmatic, dangerous, or seductive as Ian. He drove her wild with his kisses and smoldering looks. He was stubborn to a fault, but loyal and braver than any man she knew.
The world she was in now was more than dangerous. It was deadly. The war raging was one that would soon spill over into the rest of the world if Deirdre wasn’t stopped. Danielle knew she would risk her life to keep Deirdre from ruling the world.
Dani also knew she would risk everything to stay with Ian.
She had only known him a few days, but in those days she had learned more about him and herself than she had in the year she’d known Mitchell.
Silly or not, she knew her growing feelings for Ian were stronger than anything she had felt before. She didn’t have much experience with love. There had been only two relationships in her life when she had thought she might love a man, and both had failed miserably.
In neither of those relationships had she ever felt anything even remotely as strong as she did for Ian. With Ian, she wasn’t afraid to look into her past and revisit memories of her parents.
Now she wasn’t afraid to face Deirdre or Declan or whatever else came her way because she knew Ian would be there with her.
Was it love she felt for Ian? If it wasn’t, it soon would be if the past few days were any indication.
She wore a smile when she left her chamber and walked down to the great hall. Everyone else had already eaten, so Danielle found a bagel and a glass of orange juice in the kitchen.
Not wanting to dirty anything, she sat on the counter and began to eat. She had taken three bites when Gwynn walked into the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes.
She smiled at Danielle. “Ian’s appetite is improving.”
“Uh-huh,” Danielle muttered as she finished chewing, suddenly
embarrassed. She’d left her clothes in the dungeon when she’d stormed off angry. Had Gwynn seen them?
“Oh,” Gwynn said as she began to wash the dishes. “Your sweater and bra are destroyed, but I’ve got your jeans set to wash and your boots are in the hall.”
Danielle choked on her bagel and took a drink to wash it down. “Thank you,” she said when she could talk.
“Did the blankets keep you warm?”
Danielle’s brow furrowed. “Are you the one who brought the blankets?”
“I did. I saw you go down and knew it would get cold. You were asleep when Logan and I brought the blankets.” She wiped off her hands and faced Danielle. “I’m glad you stayed with Ian. He needed that.”
“He’s obstinate.”
Gwynn laughed loudly. “Oh, but Dani, they all are. Warriors are the worst at being pigheaded individuals. You’re seeing just the beginning of it.”
“I tried to convince him to come out of that cell.”
“He’s in there for you.”
“I know, and it’s silly.”
“No,” Gwynn said softly. “It shows you how much he cares.”
Danielle sighed, knowing Gwynn was right. It caused a warmth to spread over her chest. “It’s insane how my life has changed so drastically. You’d think I’d be upset, yet I’m not. I’m excited and scared. Through it all, Ian was always there to guide me.”
“He’ll gain control of his god. You’ve given him a reason, Dani. For that, we all owe you a great debt. We thought we had lost Ian.”
Danielle thought back on that conversation later that afternoon as she was helping to clean the castle. Reaghan was again with Kirstin, who had been quiet and more withdrawn than usual. Braden was never far from Kirstin either.
As anxious as Danielle was, she couldn’t sit and wait. So, when Cara had mentioned cleaning, Danielle was the first to jump up and get started. The castle was huge, so it took all of them to keep it in order.
Even the men helped, though Danielle noticed Quinn and Arran never let Charlie out of their sight. Danielle was thankful of that when she looked up to find Charlie watching her. She thought she caught a brief glimpse of malevolence in his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure. She left the area he was in shortly thereafter.
Danielle stretched her back from dusting in the tower. She had been dusting most of the day and had only done a dozen or so rooms.
She picked up her rag and turned to leave the tower when she found Charlie standing in the doorway. A thread of fear spiraled up from her stomach.
“Hello, Dani,” he said, his smile a little too bright.
“Charlie. The tower is cleaned. Maybe Cara needs you for something.”
“Oh, no one will be looking for me for some time.”
Danielle lifted her chin, refusing to be frightened. “Why is that?”
“You needn’t worry.” He pushed away from the door and walked toward her. “Tell me, Dani, are you scared?”
“Of you? No.”
“You should be,” he whispered. His eyes were bright with malice, his smile promising pain as he began to circle her. “You think you’re so smart, do you no’? You think you have me figured out.”
Danielle kept facing him, tracking him step for step. “You mean because I know it was you who scratched me? Because I know your power isn’t wind as you told the others?”
“You and Ian made it too easy for me. I thought I was going to have a difficult time worming my way into the MacLeods’ trust, but you’ve given me all that I need.”
“The others know. I’ve told them.”
“By the time I’m finished with them, they willna even remember you existed.”
Danielle knew real trepidation then. The door was right behind her. If she was quick enough she might make it out of the tower, but would she make it down the winding stairs? Anything was better than staying in the tower with Charlie.
“Ian will remember, and you won’t be able to kill him.”
“Kill him?” Charlie asked with a laugh. “He’ll be Deirdre’s before night has fallen.”
No, Danielle screamed in her mind. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. Before she could think on it more, she made a dash for the door. Just as she was going through it, Charlie slammed it against her. Danielle cried out as she was crushed between the thick wood and the stone. He let loose the door and she fell on the small landing of the stairs.
She never saw Charlie’s foot coming at her until he connected with her ribs. She screamed, silently begging for Ian.
* * *
Ian jerked awake as he felt a scream resounding in his head, a scream that sounded remarkably like Danielle. He took a deep breath and felt for her magic. What hit him was a wall of icy terror and distress that had him on his feet and racing for the cell door.
He pulled at the metal. “Hayden! Quinn! Let me out!” he bellowed.
The dungeon was made so no one in the castle could hear the cries of those being held, but a Warrior had extra sensitive hearing. He just prayed someone was close enough to hear him.
The more he struggled against the iron and his inability to get to Danielle the more his rage grew until he was in a frenzy. Which only allowed Farmire to grow louder in his mind.
Ian knew he was so very close to losing control. For good, he feared.
Danielle meant too much to him, and the fact he couldn’t help her just as he hadn’t been able to aid Duncan before his death left Ian feeling helpless and powerless. He hated the feeling.
And Farmire fed his fury and need for vengeance.
Ian threw back his head and bellowed as his fangs filled his mouth. His claws scraped against the iron. With his strength, he should easily bend the bars, but too late he realized they had been enforced with magic.
“Danielle!” he roared.
* * *
Through the haze of pain and struggling to draw breath, somehow Danielle called up her power and sent a blast of it toward Charlie. He flew back into the tower.
Danielle pulled herself to her feet, holding her ribs, and half ran half fell down the stairs. She had to make it to Ian.
“It’ll take more than that wee bit of magic to keep me down,” Charlie said menacingly from behind her.
Danielle didn’t look over her shoulder as she kept moving. The stairs seemed to go on forever, and she could hear Charlie gaining on her. She was able to dodge his first attempt to grab her, but on the second try he snagged her hair and jerked her to a stop.
She reached back to try and lessen the pain on her scalp as he continued to yank on her hair.
“You’re so pathetic. By tomorrow everyone in the castle will be dead. I’ll have the artifacts and Deirdre will have Ian.”
“No!” Danielle yelled, and threw her elbow into Charlie’s gut at the same time she pushed her magic into him. She heard something metallic clank on the stairs, but she couldn’t look to find out what it was.
He grunted from the hit, but he didn’t release his hold on her.
“When they find you, you’ll be just barely alive enough to tell them Ian did this to you.”
“Never,” she swore, and turned so she could face him and try to kick him.
Charlie laughed. “I’m going to release Ian. He’ll find you, and it’ll be what breaks him, allowing his god control.”
Danielle fought with all her might and all her magic. Somehow she managed to free herself and turned to race down the rest of the stairs.
She had just reached the corridor when Charlie’s hand wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his eyes blazing with hatred. “Try and scream for help, Dani. Call out to Ian.”
She slapped at his face and desperately tried to move his hand from her throat as her air began to diminish. He held her above him, her feet dangling from the floor.
The edge of her vision was dotted with black while her lungs burned for air.
Danielle couldn’t believe she was go
ing to die. And Ian would blame himself. She had thought she’d have a future, maybe even a future with Ian.
“Tell me where the artifacts are,” Charlie demanded.
All her strength was leaving her as her body screamed for air, but she had just enough left in her to kick Charlie in the balls.
He doubled over, his squeal of pain music to her ears.
But then he gave one final squeeze.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ian clawed at the stones and the bars, anything that might get him out of the dungeon and to Danielle. He could feel her magic lessen, feel its panic along with hers.
Farmire urged him to give in, his words persuasive and convincing. Farmire promised Ian the means to get out of the dungeon if he just gave over control.
The thought of Danielle in danger nearly had him agreeing, but then Ian remembered even if Farmire got him out, he wouldn’t be there to help Danielle. He wouldn’t be at all. It would be Farmire.
“Nay,” Ian bellowed, and swiped his claws down the stone.
He clawed at himself and the deep, resonating ache in his chest where his heart was, at the helplessness that consumed him. Devoured him.
Destroyed him.
His madness raged, his fury grew, and all the while Farmire howled his pleasure.
Ian was losing the battle. He knew it in his bones, felt it in his soul. But with Duncan gone, and now Danielle, Ian couldn’t find a reason to keep fighting.
An image of Danielle smiling flashed in Ian’s mind. Her emerald eyes stared at him, darkened by desire right before she cried out in pleasure as he entered her.
He saw her laughing, pictured her in his arms. It was the only thing that kept him hanging on to himself, by a thread that was swiftly unraveling.
* * *
Arran rounded the corner of the hallway and saw Charlie with his hand around Danielle’s throat. In less than a heartbeat Arran had called up his god and raced toward Charlie.
Behind him, Arran heard Quinn and Hayden running fast. But it was Arran’s claws that severed Charlie’s head from his body. The widening of Charlie’s eyes as he spotted Arran seconds before his head was decapitated left Arran with a smile on his face.
