An Immortal Descent

by Kari Edgren

  Sean swayed toward him. “Let her go, Stroud. She’s done nothing to you.”

  “Oh, but she’s plenty to do for me,” Julian chided him. “Marin’s safety is collateral for your good behavior.” He turned a cold stare at us. “That goes for everyone here. Come near me, and she’ll pay for your foolishness.”

  The man spoke boldly, considering he carried no obvious weapon. Tom and Henry must have thought something similar for they started a curved path that would leave him hemmed in on both sides.

  Julian released an exasperated breath. “Now, I told you not to do that.” His mouth thinned, and a second later Marin whimpered and started to writhe in pain. A thin trail of blood ran from one side of her nose. It crested her lips, and continued to her chin, where several crimson drops fell to the ground.

  Ailish squeaked beside me. Tom and Henry halted their course.

  An animal cry burst from my brother. Lunging forward, he grabbed Julian’s arm to wrest him away from Marin. Panic howled in my chest. No!

  Sean jerked violently, and I choked on a scream when he froze in mid-motion.

  My heart thumped once. Twice. Nothing changed. “Brother...” My voice emerged in a whispered plea as I blinked at his statue-still body and outstretched arms.

  Julian snorted in disgust and yanked his woolen sleeve from Sean’s stony grasp.

  “What did you do to him?” I cried. A burst of fire rushed to my fingertips, and I made to move again when Cate’s grip tightened on my elbow.

  “Don’t, Selah,” she said softly, “or Sean will be dead before you reach him.”

  I glowered at the man, my sight rimmed with red amidst the green torchlight. Only one person would die tonight, and that was Julian, the very moment I got my hands on him.

  He patted my brother’s cheek. “You can thank my mother for that trick.” With an arrogant smile, he stepped around Sean, closing the distance between us to ten generous paces.

  Marin whimpered and stole a terrified glance at her husband, who now appeared to be grasping at the air behind them. Tom and Henry remained in place, tracking Julian’s every move like two predators awaiting the opportunity to strike.

  “My dear Lord Stroud,” Cate said, every bit the well-bred lady even in a cavern. “Let me be the first to commend you for killing Carmen, though it seems something you should have shared while we were still at the inn.”

  An indignant breath burst from me, and I gaped at Cate, sure she must be mistaken. “Julian didn’t kill her.”

  “I assure you, he did.”

  “How could one man kill Carmen?” And not even a warrior at that, but a man with the gift of agriculture. I thrust a finger at him as if to prove my point. “How could he have killed her?”

  His smooth laugh echoed through the cavern. “I would think that obvious, especially for someone so adept at healing. But if you require further explanation, suffice it to say I stole your knife while you were napping on the Sea Witch and stuck it in Carmen’s heart.”

  The muscles jumped in my neck as I whipped my gaze from the witch to Julian. Despite the overwhelming evidence, my brain refused to accept his admission.

  “When did you kill her?” Henry asked.

  Julian appeared bored by his question. “Two days ago, while Miss Rose, Mr. Roth and I were scouring the countryside for Selah.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. James and Justine... I hadn’t felt the cavern open again since the other three arrived.

  “Where are they now?” Tom’s voice rumbled.

  “Safe for the time being, though I fear Miss Rose won’t be joining us.” Julian rubbed his chin. “She didn’t fancy the branch in her mouth any more than the one holding her to a tree. And I daresay Mr. Roth will never forgive himself for being taken unaware a second time.”

  A mounting pressure began to throb in my temples. “I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? Why the elaborate pretense?”

  Releasing my arm, Cate moved beside me. “Because he needed us here to break the curse.”

  “What does it matter, now the witch is dead?”

  Julian fixed me with a dark stare. “Oh, it matters a great deal, Selah.”

  He caressed my name, gentle as a lover, and in direct disparity with the man who had already struck first and second blood tonight. Volatile and violent. It sickened me to think this could be another desperate attempt to win my favor.

  “Please, Julian, you need to stop this before it goes any further.” The whole scene felt like a big ruse, and any moment my brother would move and Marin would be free.

  “That’s not Julian,” Cate said in a soft voice.

  “Of course it is.” I raked the man from head to toe. Dark brown hair, elegant features, trim build...without doubt he was the man I’d met in Cate’s drawing room nearly three weeks ago.

  “I assure you, it’s not him,” she persisted. “Lord Stroud is dead.”

  My knees wobbled, and I clutched at my skirts to keep steady. Impossible...unless the man had an identical twin.

  Henry slid Cate a sideways look. “If that were the case, he’d have been called out for an imposter the moment he came to London.”

  “He may look and speak the same as Lord Stroud, but I assure you, it’s not him.”

  A memory nibbled at my brain of black hair and altered features. An aberration of himself, as though one image had been laid over another... At the time, I thought him on the verge of death and his soul disintegrating.

  Cate spoke to Julian, yet in the third person. “Lord Stroud arrived in town last spring after his father died. Was that really him or had you already claimed the spoils of death?”

  Julian cocked a brow at her. “I should have known you’d be familiar with the old ways. The gentle fop you met was the real Lord Stroud until I gathered his soul this past September.” His mouth curled to a grin. “I believe the minor changes greatly improved his personality. Don’t you agree, my lady?”

  A tremor passed through my legs. Dead for three months... How could I have not known? It seemed inconceivable regardless that I had never met the real Lord Stroud.

  “And where is his lordship now?” Cate asked, ignoring his question.

  Julian waved his free hand to indicate distance. “A shallow grave somewhere between London and his estate in the south. We were traveling together to his home to use Brigid’s altar when I slit his throat.”

  I gasped, drawing Julian’s attention. Not Julian, my mind screamed. An imposter.

  “You didn’t miss much, love. His lordship was a fair-faced bore, more concerned with plants than anything else.” His gaze dipped to my lips. “Strawberries, I’ll admit, have their benefit, and I’ve dreamt of tasting them on you again.”

  “Hold your tongue,” Henry growled. “Or I’ll remove it with your head.” Rage permeated the air around him. Rolling his large shoulders, he appeared a lion preparing to pounce.

  “Try it, Englishman, and the lass is dead.”

  The temptation for battle warred over Henry’s face. A muscle twitched in his cheek as his knuckles strained around the sword pommel.

  Tom intervened, his steady voice slicing between them. “The witch didn’t put up much of a fight, otherwise you’d never have gotten a knife in her heart while she was sitting still.” He held up Brigid’s blade and slowly turned the handle between his fingers. “She knew you well.” Another turn of the knife. “And she trusted you, much like a woman would trust a lover. I’ll wager when you killed her, she was trying to breed to replace one more of her lost sons.”

  Julian laughed again, louder and more abrupt, and for a split second his eyes flicked over Henry. “Oh, she was looking to breed, but not with me.” He shook his head. “The love we shared was different than you think.”

  I darted a swift look at Carmen, my eyes narrowing on
the raven locks that fell to her waist. “Because she was your mother,” I said, near breathless from the revelation.

  Julian gave me an appreciative look. “Well done, Selah. How did you guess it?”

  “Your hair. It turned black when we were in Brigid’s garden.”

  “Ah, yes, I got my mother’s coloring. But it’s my father I favor most.”

  “And who might that be?” Cate asked. “A goddess born, I suppose, in order for you to fool Lord Stroud.”

  “He’s no stranger to you,” Julian agreed.

  Tom grunted his growing annoyance. “Time’s come to pay for your tales, lad. If what you claim is true, then show us your real self.”

  Amusement glittered in Julian’s dark eyes. “I thought you would never ask.” His gaze settled on me, shrewd and deliberate beneath what I now understood to be a living mask. My heart skipped a beat when the air rippled around him, and his face began to waver. It lasted but a moment before the lines took new form, and the once-delicate features gave way to a broader forehead, squared chin and wider cheekbones. His hair darkened to raven black.

  The torches flickered through his alteration, their power momentarily disturbed. Reality seemed to flicker around me in a similar manner until my head felt near to bursting. One of the men cursed, or perhaps both.

  “Saints above,” Cate whispered. “It can’t be.”

  Julian smirked at her. “See something interesting, my lady?” His voice sounded deeper, with the hint of an Irish lilt. Marin’s mouth popped open, and she twisted around to steal a glimpse at his face.

  “Luthais,” she hissed.

  “Aye, Marin, you know me now.”

  “We thought you’d gone for good after you disappeared last spring.”

  He chuckled. “Were you sad, lass?”

  “Not a wee bit,” she ground out. “I wish it even more with what you did to me Sean.”

  Tightening his grip, he yanked her head back against his chest. “Don’t be rude, Marin. It’s not good for Sean’s health.”

  She winced from the pain, her hands fisted and her mouth clamped tight against what appeared to be an onslaught of angry words.

  “Luthais...” The name fell unknown from my lips.

  Julian waved it off. “Just an alias I used while living amongst the goddess born.”

  Another lie. “Who are you really?”

  A spark flared in his eyes, and I realized this one part remained familiar despite the transformation. “My mother named me Díoltas.”

  The throbbing increased at my temples. “Vengeance,” I said, my voice cracking over the translation.

  The man looked at me with something close to kindness. “Only the coverings have changed.” He circled a hand over his face. “This is the man you cared for, not Lord Stroud. It was me that you gave assurances to in Brigid’s garden.”

  I shook my head, a slow side to side. What assurances? We had spoken of the moon and my reasons for loving an Englishman...

  My breath caught on a memory. Chase the English away, and then we’ll talk. Had I really been so careless? It felt like years ago when he’d pressured me to consider his proposals. And like an idiot, I had agreed solely to put an end to his pestering.

  “Think of me as Julian, if it pleases you.” He pressed a finger to his forehead. “His essence will always be a part of me.”

  Julian—Luthais—Díoltas—Julian—

  The names spun a circle through my mind.

  Cate remained silent during our exchange. Even in the green light, I could see the color had drained from her face, and she stared at the man as though he were a ghost.

  “Care to share what’s on your mind, my lady?” he asked her. “I can tell from your face you’ve figured it out, and it’s only fair that everyone share in our secret.”

  “What secret?” Tom asked, his voice sharp. “What games are you playing now?”

  Julian turned to him, his shoulders back and appearing several inches taller than before the transformation. “I’ll not hold it against you, blacksmith, since most men are oblivious to such matters. Even when we rode together, no one but Marin saw the likeness. I’ll wager she’d have made something of it if our ages didn’t appear so close.”

  Tom shifted his weight with marked impatience. “Stop talking riddles, lad. If you’ve something to say, spit it out, or get on with why you’re holding that woman against her will.”

  “Tired of riddles, are you? Then name my sire, and we’ll be done with them.” Julian returned his gaze to Cate. “Speak up, my lady. We can’t hear you.”

  Cate remained silent. I waited like a spectator, nerves itching beneath my skin for the next move. Following their banter was like staring into a puzzle box: the pieces were there, some even connected, but not enough to discern the full image. Julian is Carmen’s offspring...he killed his own mother...he wants to break the curse.

  “Still unwilling to admit it?” Julian gave Cate a hard smile. “I’ll give you a hint then... Grandmamma.”

  My mouth fell open at the title and the link that would make us second cousins. It can’t be...

  “What do you mean by that?” Tom snarled.

  Julian squared his whole body at Tom this time, dragging Marin the necessary half step. “That Ronan is my father.”

  The name hit me smack between the eyes. Ronan... Justine’s brother... Cate’s and Tom’s only living son...my great-uncle.

  A loud din echoed through the cavern from the clank of Tom’s sword tip against the stone floor. The knife he’d pulled from Carmen also fell limp to his side, forgotten as he stared in dismay at Julian—his grandson.

  Cate recovered first from the shock, or at least gave a good show of it. “I fear Ronan neglected to tell us about you.”

  What went unsaid hung like thunder claps in the still air. Our son failed to tell us that he’d lain with a witch.

  “I imagine because he never knew. Ronan and Carmen were lovers for a spell years back when he happened upon her prison. He left before I was born and never returned.”

  Ailish rocked onto her toes, then back again, and I felt her eyes pass over each one of us. Henry watched and waited as well, the small bones in his hand straining beneath the skin from his grip on the sword hilt.

  “Who raised you then?” Tom asked, near hoarse from the effort to speak.

  “Who do you think, blacksmith?” Julian gestured his free hand at the space around us. “Carmen raised me in these caverns.”

  My gaze darted impulsively around the pocket of light. Underground...with a witch. How could a child survive such an ordeal?

  Cate held out her hands, palms up in a sign of supplication. “If we are family, then let Marin go. We’ve no quarrel between us.”

  Julian sighed. “That’s where you’re wrong, my lady.”

  “You don’t really believe that,” Cate pressed. “We can even find Ronan and make matters right. He would want to know that he has a son.” She took a small step forward.

  “I know my father well enough without your help.” He frowned from what appeared to be an unpleasant memory. “We rode together for a year when he came back to Ireland and sought out our little band of goddess born. Isn’t that right, Marin?”

  Marin didn’t answer. Puzzlement filled her eyes as she looked from Cate to Tom, no doubt in search of answers for how they could be grandparents to anyone, let alone a grown man.

  “Where is Ronan now?” Tom asked, some of the strength restored to his voice.

  “He was pursuing a lass, but when things didn’t turn out, I heard he sailed for the Colonies two months past to see the land where his sister Sarah once lived.” Julian looked at me. “Sean told us about your mother being murdered. He even hinted once or twice about having more family, but never anything outright. My guess is tha
t Ronan got the truth from him and went to see you for himself.”

  Two months... Our ships must have passed in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

  “But you didn’t tell him of your relation.” Cate took another small step, so subtle I would have missed it if I wasn’t now looking at the back of her cloak.

  Julian shook his head. “I almost did on several occasions, but then held my tongue for good once I learned his thoughts about our kind.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Tom asked.

  “You know well what I mean. Always to serve, never to rule.” Julian spat the last words, flecking Marin’s cheek with saliva. She cringed, and attempted to turn her face away when her head snapped back to attention.

  “Be still!” he barked at her. She went stiff, her eyes enormous against her deathly pallor.

  Ailish hissed through her teeth. “Stupid bollix,” she muttered for just me to hear.

  Cate sidled another inch forward. “You disagree with Brigid’s laws?”

  “How can I not?” Julian’s nostrils flared with indignation. “Ireland is swarming with redcoats and poverty, and we’re to sit idle, using our gifts to passively serve humankind.” He shot a fierce glare at Henry. “Well, I ask you, what better way to help the Irish than to drive the English from our shores.”

  “We all want them gone,” Tom said without the least inflection.

  Julian smirked at him. “So you say, except you’ve no mind to do anything about it. But the redcoats are wee babes compared to what my mother had planned.” He glanced over my shoulder at the shriveled corpse seated on the throne. “You were right about her wanting to destroy Ireland for what happened to her first children. And for most of my life I thought to help her.”

  Vengeance. His mother had named him well.

  Another few inches and Cate stood a full foot ahead of me. “What changed your mind?” Her tone remained conversational as inch by inch she crept closer.