Sacrifice

by Heather McCollum

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Heather McCollum

  Sacrifice

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Books by Heather McCollum

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “Are you well?” the woman asked,

  and Drustan pushed up to sit. “You are flushed.” She reached forward and touched his forehead. Drustan yanked away from her hand, watching.

  She jumped. “Forgive me. Habit. I am a medical doctor,” she said, her words tinged with defensiveness.

  She had touched him, her palm against his skin. He’d felt it, the coolness of her hand. The firm pressure. And yet she stood there, straight and well instead of crumpled at the base of the stone slab.

  Impossible, unless this was just another dream after all. He exhaled long. Just a dream. It was better this way.

  “Can you speak?” she asked and pointed to her ear.

  He tried to reach into her mind with his power, but her mind was blank to him. Strange. Usually he had all his waking powers in dreams, except for the poison in his touch.

  Who are you? He thought and took her hand.

  “Let go,” she said and twisted it, her cheeks growing pink.

  “Who are you?” he said out loud.

  She startled at the sound of his voice. “Anna Pemberlin.”

  And now she even had a name. Could this be a premonition? He studied her, sketching the details in his memory. Long lashes around large green-tinged eyes that glanced about the circle as if looking for assistance. She was as beautiful as ever, and not sad in this dream. In fact, she looked outraged and strong. And very kissable.

  Praise for Heather McCollum

  2009 Golden Heart Finalist

  2015 Readers’ Crown Winner

  “Heather McCollum offers us an amazing story about, well, life! Good vs Evil, defining yourself, accepting fate, not accepting fate, fighting evil, standing up for what you believe in, love, family, politics…”

  ~Tea and Book blog by Shauni

  Praise for The Dragonfly Chronicles

  PROPHECY:

  “…this is a wonderful read that will throw you into a world that you can only dream about. You will no doubt love the story and the characters while getting warm, squishy feelings for those Highland warriors.”

  ~The Book Maven (Book Maven Review)

  MASQUERADE:

  “Masquerade is great. Time travel, witches, demons, historical setting, Scottish Lairds, power-hungry courtiers, evil clan lords, damsels in distress, and a modern girl finding love in the middle of all this. What more could you ask for? …Heather McCollum does a great job keeping us on the edge of our seats with both the action and suspense. …Masquerade is a keeper that will get re-read.”

  ~Sizzling Hot Books (Sizzling Hot Books Review)

  SURRENDER:

  “I love this series! It’s really such an involved story and though it’s a romance series it’s so much more than that! Surrender is Book 4 of the Dragonfly series and I find I just cannot put these books down.”

  ~Hollybee Tells (Hollybee Tells Review)

  Sacrifice

  by

  Heather McCollum

  The Dragonfly Chronicles, Book 5

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Sacrifice

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Heather McCollum

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Fantasy Rose Edition, 2016

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0658-2

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0659-9

  The Dragonfly Chronicles, Book 5

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Braden,

  forever my sexy Highlander and my hero.

  Books by Heather McCollum

  available at The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  The Dragonfly Chronicles:

  Magick

  Prophecy

  Masquerade

  Surrender

  Sacrifice

  Prologue

  Stone Circle, West Coast of Scotland, 1005 A.D.

  A hot stone sat in the middle of Drustan’s infant body. He’d felt it since the first moment he could remember, the moment when he’d opened his eyes to the brightness of the world. He could hold onto the stone like he could hold onto his breath. He played with both, learning how life worked. But unlike his breath, he didn’t need to release the heat in the stone, although it always sat there, flaring and receding. The one, whom the people around him called Mama, said the stone was his magic.

  Mama was the warm, soft one who fed him milk and touched his thoughts. She smelled of comfort, safety, and everything he could possibly want. Her smiles and the tickling kisses along his skin taught him about another feeling he had, different from hunger or thirst, different from the stone of magic in his middle. This feeling was like the warmness he remembered of the womb. Perhaps this was the word Mama murmured to him before she sang of flowers and sunshine. The word that seemed to hold joy, beauty, and incredible power. The word was Love.

  Drustan lay in the wooden cradle that held him when he wasn’t in someone’s arms. There were many arms in this place and many smiles. High voices, Mama’s voice, and a deeper, laughing voice. They all spoke the word love to him. He liked them. Maybe he loved them back. He definitely loved Mama.

  One day Mama’s smile was gone. Her eyes were wet and the little girls whimpered while the taller ones shushed and wiped their eyes. Drustan followed the shadows over his cradle, but couldn’t see what was happening. Loud voices he didn’t know thundered outside, and bits of the ceiling floated down. Drustan sought the magic stone in his middle and let it breathe a little. It made his head rise, holding him in a sitting position in the cradle. No one noticed him.

  The laughing, deep-voiced person was not there and the little ones, Drustan’s sisters, clung to each other as Mama spoke to them. Drustan watched as one by one Mama hugged them and used her magic to make them thin as thread, and they flew out through the crumbling ceiling. Where were they going? Would he go, too? Certainly not without Mama.

  Mama dashed around the room, talking to herself. Her eyes were wide but not the type of wide as when she smiled and made fun faces at him. These eyes were shiny and darted around, searching. Her teeth stacked tightly behind her lips, and she would surge somewhere else. All the while,
her magic rushed about, too. Maybe that’s why Drustan noticed it was getting smaller, less. He would give Mama some of his magic. He had no need for it when Mama did everything for him.

  A small set of wings zipped through the room. Drustan followed its path until a second and third appeared. Curious. Then a woman faded into the room. Mama’s words came in a rush. This woman would help her. Drustan liked the silvery woman. But then she turned his way.

  Pale blue eyes studied him where he sat, his magic propping him up. Her skin was lined, her silver hair matched her robes, and little winged creatures zipped about, surrounding her, landing on her. She resonated a hollow feeling. It was tinged with pain, sadness, and pressure that Drustan could not yet name. Inside, Drustan knew this woman was dangerous. He did not like her. Drustan imagined his stone growing larger.

  Mama came to him, scooping him up out of the cradle, holding him against her soft chest. Drustan inhaled the sweetness of her scent. It calmed him. He nuzzled his nose into her shoulder. Mama would keep him safe, even without her magic. He blinked open and peered over her shoulder. Another woman’s face appeared in the window. He touched the woman’s mind. Sister, a large sister. Kailin grown into a big person. Her eyes widened. Fear. Anger. Her mind ran through images, one of her running in to take him from Mama. But she didn’t feel dangerous. Strange.

  Drustan sensed another presence entering the room, but Mama held him so he couldn’t look around. This presence was created from thirteen beings, bound together as one. The bound thing must be powerful, because Drustan couldn’t read its intentions. It undulated, its form created of oily-black shadows. Did Mama know it was here?

  The silvery woman lifted Drustan from the softness of Mama’s chest and strode briskly away. She was hollow, her body made only of tiny bits of magic. She wasn’t warm at all. She felt like a chill. “The babe must die,” the silvery woman said.

  The babe? Wasn’t that him? What did it mean to die?

  “No,” Mama yelled. She hated the word die. The older Kailin at the window did, too. She wanted to snatch Drustan away from the silvery woman.

  The silvery woman laid Drustan down on the rock slab table where the people always gathered. More dirt and straw fell from the ceiling over them. Drustan felt the shadow presence sliding through the room, hiding. The silvery woman raised her arms, and Mama tried to grab her, but she couldn’t move the woman. Mama needed help.

  Drustan’s hot stone flared within him. He opened his lips and a gurgle came from his belly at the same time he released his magic through a tiny fist. The silvery woman flew backward. Drustan had moved her for Mama.

  Older Kailin ran into the room. She and Mama yelled words at each other, and so did the silvery woman. But Drustan was more intrigued by the shadow that expanded inside the house. What was this one that was really thirteen? Would it take the silvery woman away? Drustan did not like her at all. She made Kailin angry and Mama hurt.

  Kailin had magic inside her, too, and used it to lift Drustan off the table back into Mama’s arms. Drustan liked Kailin. He smiled at her, which made her wonder if he had a bubble in his tummy. Actually he did, and he let it rise into a burp to escape his lips.

  The shadow murmured to Drustan, catching his attention. It hovered along the ceiling, speaking silent words Drustan didn’t understand. Hushed and secretive, it studied him, trying to break into his mind. Drustan had fun keeping it out.

  Mama cringed inside so sharply that Drustan twisted in her arms. A man with a swath of white hair growing from his chin, stood by the stone table as each of the other parts of the shadow made themselves seen. They dropped from the ceiling, landing with soft whumps, their forms large with long, wet teeth in their mouths. Snakes moved around the face of one. Another had curling bone rising on each side of his pointed face. Some looked more like the animals of the forest than people.

  “The babe is ours,” said the man in the middle.

  Everything happened quickly then. Surprise, anger, fierce need. The feelings from Mama, his sister, even the silvery woman were like bright lights hurting Drustan’s eyes. Two of the beasts tried to take him from Mama, their shadows sliding like mud along his skin, mud that smelled bad. Drustan’s nose crinkled.

  Protection, purity, light. The words and feelings of warmth came from Kailin, sloughing off the shadows. Drustan breathed fully again and sought his hot stone. He hovered in the air, his blanket falling away. Before Drustan could do anything to help Mama, the silvery woman’s words caught a hold of him, wrapping him up as if in a blanket. Drustan’s small frame thinned and shot up through the shaking roof, part of the shadow giving chase. But all Drustan could think about was the shattering fact that Mama wasn’t with him. She was gone and he was on his own.

  Chapter One

  Stone Circle, West Coast of Scotland

  24 October 1893

  The ethereal image of the great Wiccan priestess, Drakkina, sat cross-legged on the granite slab table in the middle of ten soaring stones. The Earth Mother herself had anchored the slab on thick chiseled legs, half-buried in the ground, even before she erected the sarsen stones. Drakkina and her husband, Eògan, built a cottage around the slab centuries ago. Gilla birthed her children on this magical spot. Through time the smooth, gray slab held meals, strategy maps, the sleeping, and the dying. At this moment it stood uncovered amongst a field of wildflowers, and it held Drakkina and her copper scrying bowl.

  “The brother is more powerful than any of them,” she said and tipped the bowl to nudge the thick, clear water into a new swirl. She funneled the heat of her magic into the bowl, trying to solidify the shifting images there. The images depicted the possible outcomes of the final battle, the battle against twelve demons and one powerful, dark wizard. She leaned forward, so close her nose skimmed the surface, then backed up, wiped her nose, and shook her head.

  “Destruction, piling up of humanity, souls being judged by Semiazaz and his coven.” She closed her eyes and dragged her hands down her face. “Gilla’s son as the Lord of Hell on Earth, killing people Semiazaz rules inadequate for his Utopia.” She opened her eyes and stared down into the bowl as she rubbed the ache in her forehead. “I should have destroyed the son as an infant.”

  Gilla and Druce created five children, four daughters and one son, and it was the son, Drustan, who was the greatest threat to humanity. Drakkina tried to destroy Drustan when he was only days old. Yet even in his vulnerable infant state, his powers eclipsed her own, that and her soft heart made her delay, allowing the demons and Semiazaz to snatch the babe away.

  How could Semiazaz’s coven have become so strong? Drakkina bound their bodiless, evil spirits together to cripple them. Instead of tearing themselves apart, Semiazaz had gained control and convinced them their orchestrated movements were their only chance of survival. The Earth Mother had been right when she told Drakkina not to interfere.

  “What have I done?” Drakkina whispered and glanced at the constant swirling of mist around her. Alone. She was always alone, living with her penance. Except for her dragonflies. With a fissure of imagination, they appeared, zipping close around her, alighting on the head veil she created with her magic. Even though they were products of her power, they made her feel less solitary.

  She rubbed her face and tipped the bowl once more to clear the images of defeat. “By the Earth Mother,” she whispered. “Show me some hope.” She tapped her finger to her lip and waited for the ripples to still into another prophecy. The silvery surface reflected shards of blues, grays, and reds, warping and stretching into images until they coalesced into a moving scene.

  Gilla’s daughters and their mates fought amongst chaos within the stone circle. Drustan stood tall by a woman on the very slab beneath Drakkina. She leaned closer, her eyes narrowed to focus through the liquid and saw in the woman’s arms—

  “A baby? Where did that come from?” She watched the child blink. Drakkina gasped, arching back from the scene, as a blade whipped down toward the newborn’s chest. Dra
kkina’s eyes snapped shut, unwilling to witness the atrocity.

  She inhaled deeply even though she lived without need for air. It was the familiar movement that calmed her. She blinked open. In the center of the glimmering liquid lay Drustan, crumpled to the ground. Blood welled from his chest as the demons shriveled along the periphery.

  Drakkina and her dragonflies froze, the little bodies stuck in the mist, as Drakkina tried to understand the Earth Mother’s prophecy. Could the baby’s death have caused the dissolution of the evil? Was its life the key to saving the world?

  She shook her head in time with her imagined heartbeat. “What can conquer ultimate evil?” The layers of color on the surface sank down into the depths as if the Earth Mother had pulled them away.

  Drakkina closed her eyes in prayer. “Thank you, great Earth Mother. Your will is mine.”

  With a tickle of magic in her breath, Drakkina blew, parting the mist so that she could see the shimmering threads of time woven tightly in and out of one another, like a giant spider’s web. Each thread represented a single moment in time, all slightly separate, kept apart by the constant ticking of time. Lines separated by fractions of seconds slid so close to one another they appeared to be the same. The entire tapestry was a fragile array that made up the cosmic foundation of existence.

  Drakkina followed a bundle of threads where Gilla’s first-born daughter, Serena existed, then moved on to Merewin’s ancient line. The twins, Kat and Kailin, although living almost two-hundred years apart, had timelines woven close together. Gilla had hidden her daughters well before she was murdered by Semiazaz’s coven.

  Drakkina hovered along one thread, the one that held an older Kailin, a line where Drustan spent his life. It would be along this line that the battle would occur. Even though he certainly had the power to jump times, Drakkina had never seen Drustan do it. Gilla’s lost son seemed content with living his solitary existence in the era where he’d been sent as an infant, growing to manhood surrounded by the coven of demons who’d killed his parents.