Aine eyed Jarle.
A sinister grin edged his thin lips. “As your current intended, I will allow you to speak. That is if you have something you wish to share with your beloved father.”
Bastard. Jarle knew she’d never talk about time travel to the elder MacDougal. “My father is right. I must remember my place.”
“Come,” MacDougal said. He motioned his hand for her to approach, then he turned his stare to Bane. “Be on the field outside the great hall, at dusk, wolf.”
Aine stepped away. She prayed to the gods that Bane recognized the plea in her eyes. Save yourself. She silently mouthed before turning away and walking over to her father.
All their fates now rested in Bane’s hands.
She hoped he’d be victorious.
Chapter Nine
Bane stomped down the corridor leading to Mortimer’s private crypt. The scent of fresh picked mint permeated the torch lit dungeon. How the hell a soul can live underground, in a castle’s bowels, never sat well with him, but Mortimer had different needs as a vampire than he had as wolf and at least the man hadn’t screwed up other people’s lives.
He truly didn’t deserve any of the good he’d experienced all these years.
The wood portal to Mortimer’s chambers creaked open.
He turned and stepped inside.
His brother-in-law sat behind a large desk, his back to the room’s entrance. “I take it the sword lessons didna go well.”
“They were going damn well, until that blasted Jarle showed up. He told your father things that have now angered the man.”
“Ye should have gone to see Da last night.” Mortimer remained at his desk, his straight back as rigid as ever.
“I need your help.”
The vampire turned around. “Anything.”
He paced. Telling Mortimer the truth, the fact that Aine would be a widow come nightfall, would probably pain the man. But it had to be done. “Jarle must win the battle for Aine’s hand.”
“Are you daft?” The vampire sprung from his chair.
“He must. It is the only way I can save Aine.”
“By turning her over to that bastard? I think not.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “In order to travel through time, I had to use a portal located at Castle Dundaire’s cornerstone. But since that stone is no longer intact, I could only imagine raising the structure in my mind. Not physically rebuilding it. And because of that, it will not remain standing. Which means I canna go back. And if I stay here, then I will have thrown off time. So, I must die here. And I must do so before the imaginary castle collapses.”
Mortimer rubbed his chin. “Why not kill Jarle and then go back?”
Here came the hard part. “Because I canna kill a soul already dead.”
“Jarle is dead in the future?”
“Aye. It’s a long story I dinna have time for now, but yes, he is dead and it is the dead Jarle who has come back to this time period.”
A pensive look graced Mortimer’s pale face. “Then why not plead to the gods? Aine’s mother has to be able to do something.”
“Aine already tried that, but the gods have sided with Jarle.”
Mortimer huffed. “Bloody hell. Is there nothing that can be done? The last thing I need is to have that Viking bastard as my brother-in-law. Your ugly face is even more appealing than his. I’ll go mad having to spend time with him.”
His heart ached. He’d never see Aine again. Or their sons. “I have no choice in this matter.”
“Then why did ye come back, knowing ye were doomed?”
“Because Jarle had already returned and was determined to disrupt the future.” He paused. Mortimer needed to know everything. “Aine and I have six sons. I cudna risk losing them. She figured the same.”
The vampire leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He appeared to be mulling over the situation. “Then I will see to it that Aine is protected. Jarle will not have her. No matter the state of his soul, living or dead, he will not have my sister.”
“Thank you.”
The sound of an angered voice filtered into the room from the corridor.
“Bloody hell,” Mortimer said. “That Viking is a menace more vile than Lucifer himself.” He raised his hand and commanded a sword to lift from the pile of weapons stacked in the corner. The blade flew through the air and smacked his hand.
Jarle appeared at the door. “The time has come, wolf. I don’t like being kept waiting.”
He eyed Mortimer.
“Go,” the vampire said. “Do what ye must.”
And with that he headed for the door, and to his death.
Chapter Ten
Aine stood at the window of her father’s private chamber and settled her gaze on the field below. A gust of wind shook the rippled glass pane. “I dinna ken how they are going to duel on such icy ground.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Her memories of her father rarely recalled how much he’d aged after suffering that preternatural illness, but seeing him again told another story and she didn’t care to see him suffer. He had been a good man, even if a bit harsh at times.
“The men will sort it out, of that I am sure.” A deep breath fell from her father’s lips. “Ye really have placed me in a fine pickle, daughter.”
Guilt settled in her soul. But she’d done what was necessary to save her sons and Bane, though right now she wasn’t so sure about any of her actions. “Thank you for listening to me and letting me explain all that has happened.” Well, she didn’t tell Da all the details about her time travel and her life in the future. Revealing only the minimum necessary was best. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Well, ye are my only daughter. The Gods know I have enough to deal with, with all those boys running around the castle. They are the most troublesome lot any man—vampire or wolf—could have been saddled with. At least with you I only had this one problem. Albeit a very large problem, but only one just the same.”
“Oh, who are you kidding? My brothers are the apples of your eyes.”
The older MacDougal gave a soft laugh. “I love them, yes, but don’t ye go and tell them so.”
She turned back to the window, her gaze lingering on the field. She gasped. “He’s there.”
“At least he had the strength to show. Maybe I have misjudged the wolf.”
Her shoulders slumped. “No. I mean Jarle is on the field.”
“And where is your man?”
She spun around and stared at her father who remained sitting on his bed. “I don’t see him.”
“Give him time. Mayhap he went to change his sword. I did offer him the pick of the armory.”
Her heart went cold. She couldn’t sense Bane. Not his soul, not his scent.
What the hell had the man gone and done?
A pebble hit the window, forcing her to shift her attention back to the field. Down below, Jarle raised his head toward her. An evil grin crossed his twisted mouth.
Aine jumped back. Never would she give him the satisfaction of him thinking he merited her gaze. The man should be burning in the fires of hell, not challenging a good soul like Bane of Wolfsden. But she did admit, that MacHendrie alpha was the daftest man ever.
She stalked over to the far wall and yanked a claymore from the display.
“What are ye doing with my prized sword? My own da gave that to me, just before he bled out. Killed by a Viking, in case you hadn’t known. But I did manage to hold Dundaire and for that my dying father was glad. His beloved castle didna fall that day.”
A low rumble shook the floor. “Aye, girl, ye are the fairest castle in all the Highlands.”
“Dundaire is female?” That was news to her. She always thought all castles were male, having been built by men.
“Of course she’s female. Have ye never recognized her glowing charm? Like when the coldest winter nights befall us, all the children’s’ rooms are always warm. Even when the hearth fi
res go out?”
She honestly hadn’t ever noticed.
The castle rumbled once more. “Sorry, girl.”
“She likes to sometimes be called Dee,” the elder MacDougal said.
Maybe the castle knew where her Bane had gone. “Well, Dee, if ye wish to help this girl out, instill some sense in Bane. Even if ye have to hit him over the head with a stone or two.”
A larger vibration shook the castle.
It did indeed have a soul. Why hadn’t she ever realized that before?
“Ye young folk never notice things until too late,” her father said. “I was once the same. In fact, I never talked to Old Dee until after you were born. And your mother had left. Of course, she was forced to leave, due to the gods insisting she did. That is when Old Dee and I became friends. We talked about our lost loves.”
No castle could love. Of that she was certain. But it did no good ruining an old, dying vampire’s probably last moments with his only daughter. “Will ye do me a favor, Da?”
“What?”
“Promise me, should anything ever happen to you, ye make sure measures are in place so Old Dee’s cornerstone is never fully lost.”
“Why?”
“Just trust me on this.”
MacDougal nodded. “Now what are ye going to do with my sword. Ye still haven’t said.”
“I’m going to fight Jarle myself.”
A look of shock crossed her father’s face, then faded. “Mayhap it is for the best. Ye are bloody horrible with a blade and that just might work to your advantage in this matter.”
The man was sweet in his truth about her awful sword skills. “Do ye need anything before I leave?”
“Na. Just go.” He waved her away.
She ran up to her father and kissed him on the cheek, her lips feeling the cold, vampiric essence of his dying soul. “Remember me, Da.”
He shoved her away. “Go save that wolf ye love.”
Without a look back, Aine was out of the room. Finding Bane was a must, but without knowing where that thickheaded man had gone, she wasn’t sure if she’d get to him in time.
The castle floor vibrated.
Stones fell from the walls, littering her path with dust and fragments of mortar. The scent of ages old mead and blood filled her lungs.
She coughed.
“Hang in there, Old Dee.”
She prayed to the gods she’d find Bane before time ran out.
Mist swirled around her.
A strong hold gripped her shoulders, pulled her from the hall.
Heaviness surrounded her heart.
She clenched the claymore in her hands as no unseen force, regardless of its power, was going to cost her Da’s most prized possession.
Time and space circled her body until only silence remained.
~~o0o~~
Iona’s Chambers
Bane paced outside his mother-in-law’s rooms. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. Who was he to call on a goddess and ask for help? The wumman had already done so much for him and was probably getting flak from the higher gods back in the Otherworld.
Maybe Aine was better off without him.
Bloody hell. If he was going to die anyway, then he might as well go down fighting.
He fisted his hand and then pounded on the door.
Silence greeted him back.
From what he’d remembered, Iona never stayed at Dundaire longer than she had to. Which meant she probably wasn’t on the premises now.
The castle shook.
Bits of stone and dried mortar crumbled, peeled away from the walls.
Aw hell. He wasn’t going to save Aine.
“Listen here, Dudaire. I am alpha to all shifters and to the land they live on, which includes your bloody base. Cave in on me and I’ll see you in the afterlife and I guarantee that it will not be an amicable reunion.”
The castle stilled.
“Ye are as bad as old Wolfsie.”
Dundaire’s floors vibrated.
“Ye are a wumman?” Well, damn him to hell, who knew Dundaire was female. “Are ye certain about that?”
A wailing noise shot through the corridor. “Don’t get ye knickers in a bunch. I got it. Ye are female.” She definitely complained like one.
The castle wailed a second time. “Are ye certain about that, too? Wolfsden is a cantankerous old coot. How ye can fancy him is beyond daft to me.”
The walls shook. “All right, I’ll see what I can do about it, but I canna make any promises on the matter, especially since the way things are looking now, I am about to die. Which means the future will probably happen without me.”
White mist swirled before him.
He raised his sword. Whatever was coming for him, it had better get in line because Dundaire had first dibs on sucking the life out of him. And he was not going to let anything else interfere with how things were supposed to play out.
A woman stepped from the swirling vapor.
Iona.
Bane lowered his weapon.
“I hope you are not as dense as my daughter in thinking me so cold as to not keep an eye on things on this side of the veil.”
Guilt seeped into his soul. He had misjudged the wumman and she hadn’t deserved that from him.
Iona inched closer. “Well, at least my daughter made a match with a man who shares her views and I suppose that is a good thing.” The goddess rolled her eyes. “I canna help you with Jarle, as the gods are firm on that. They will not lessen the settlement.”
His heart ached. “Then it is done.”
“Not exactly.”
“Do not tease, wumman. My sons’ lives are on the line.”
“The gods were impressed with your last-minute effort at mustering your inner strength. They have been waiting for that for a thousand years. Do you know how frustrating it has been to watch you, day in and day out, caring for your pack, for your sons, preserving the love you have for Aine, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera? We have talked so many moments, held our breath when you came close to doing something for yourself, only to have our hopes dashed at the last minute because you put someone else before yourself. Even giving your favorite cabin to Rhys was a letdown to us. We popped popcorn that night and took bets as to which of your homes you were going to give up to your adopted son and his new wife.”
Doing good deeds was never a terrible thing. “Rhys deserved a home. He’d been through hell most of his life and he served the pack beyond what was expected of him.”
“There you go again, always doing good for others.”
He let out a deep breath. “Say all ye want. I no longer care as I am about to die. Dundaire will soon crumble and I’ll be buried in its dust.” He tossed his sword to the floor and stomped away.
Iona tsked.
He turned around. “Who the hell are ye to judge me? I love my wife, my sons, and in that I include Rhys, adopted or not, he is my son. And I love that old Wolfsie who eats macarons more than he should. And I’d give my last breath for any and all of them. But most of all, I’d give it for myself so that I could continue to enjoy all that my family and my pack have given me. Take that to ye high and mighty gods.” He jabbed his finger into Iona’s shoulder.
A whole storm of vapors now filled the corridor.
Numerous gods and goddesses appeared, each one more vibrant looking than the last.
Iona stepped away from them. “That is all we needed to hear…my son.”
Son? “Fine time for ye to accept me as your daughter’s husband. But at least I’ll go to my grave having that victory on my soul.”
Iona smiled. “Jarle will no longer antagonize you.”
What?
“You didn’t really think we’d give him the power to go through time after Callen killed him, did you?”
He was probably far better off not answering that question.
“You needed to be pushed, Bane. And you succeeded. Aine is yours.”
“Score two for me. I will die a happy man.”<
br />
Dundaire vibrated.
“The walls may close in on you, Bane of Wolfsden, but it will not be the last time we meet.”
And the walls did crumble.
Falling pebbles turned to stones.
Dust turned to piles of dirt.
The floor gave way, sent him pummeling through space.
The world fell silent.
Death was an existence of calm and nothing else.
Epilogue
Castle Dundaire, Present Day
Aine grabbed the ladder and steadied herself. Adjusting her father’s prized sword in Castle Dundaire’s library was no easy feat. But after surviving that little time traveling trip down memory lane, hanging a sword was cake. “You’d think with six sons, and a pack of male grandpups, I wudna have to do this myself.” Hopefully that was loud enough for at least one the boys to hear.
Callen dashed into the room. “What in the gods’ names are you doing up there?” He offered a look of astonishment.
Guilt always worked like a charm. “I need someone to tell me if this is straight or not.”
“You couldn’t just ask?”
“I did, but you and your brothers didna hear me the first time around.”
Callen huffed. He set a half-full bottle of water on the glass-topped coffee table and then stepped up to the ladder. “If you had mentioned it earlier, I would have hung the damn blade for you.”
“Do I look too old to do the job?”
“Of course not, you don’t look a day over thirty, but that is not the point.”
“The correct answer, son, was that I do not look a day over twenty-eight.”
Callen rolled his eyes. “Come down from there and let me hang the darn blade. You can be the one to tell me if it’s straight or not. Plus, if you do, I’ll be sure to convince Wolfsden to share the macarons with you that Uncle Mortimer is bringing from Abeille’s.”
She turned back to face the ladder and started her climb down. “It’s a terrible thing for a son to try and bribe his mother. Though I am not opposed to eating those desserts. Looking forward to it, in fact.”
Highland Wolf Shifters of Dundaire 4 Page 7
