“What are you doing?” Semiazaz yelled.
“Reminding you exactly who I am,” he replied. “I am no mere man who can be killed easily,” he said both aloud and as a whisper in their minds, each word echoing with volume. “And I am not to be controlled.” His words brought flickers of Anna’s face into Bechard’s mind again. Drustan shoved the demon so hard that Bechard’s essence slid into Semiazaz’s, the two mingling. Semiazaz groaned at the torturous pressure and Bechard huffed.
Drustan stared into their combined face, white beard and blue robes with black wings and horns. He spoke softly, yet the power behind his words vibrated along the veins in each surrounding leaf, through the roots and granite in the ground, through the tiny particles of power that made up the demons. “You will not, in any way, threaten Anna Pemberlin. She is mine. If you harm what is mine, I will suffocate your essence until you are screaming for death.”
Drustan lowered his arms to his sides, forcing together his cupped hands as if making a snowball. The impenetrable circle of his magic collapsed the space around the demons. Their essences pressing together until they were completely layered in one space the size of a very small man. Shifting and screeching, they swirled in the confinement.
“Please,” Bast called.
“Mercy,” Daria begged.
“Lord Drustan,” Semiazaz said. “We know you are most powerful.”
“I would hear it from Bechard,” Drustan said, keeping his hands locked in place despite the effort. The wind blew cool against the sweat along his body. Could he bring his hands completely together, shrink these creatures into nothing? He’d never considered it before. They were his family, or at least the only souls that could possibly be considered a family. Was he not as bad as they if he were to consider killing them?
“Lord Drustan,” Bechard said. “Release us.” The please was not uttered, but it sat in the demon’s mind. It was the best Drustan would get from a beast created in Hell.
“You will never again think of Anna Pemberlin as anything but my queen,” Drustan said, and he slowly released his cage, allowing the dark souls to push back out and away from one another. “I will go where I wish and talk with whom I wish,” he continued. “I will fight in the final battle.” His gaze met Semiazaz, once more devoid of the demons. “I will not be questioned nor harassed.”
Without another glance, he stalked into his house. He shut the door and leaned against it, only then letting the exertion his magic wrought on his human form show in the tremors of his muscles.
He looked down at his naked form. “Damn.” He’d incinerated the clothes he’d borrowed from William Maclean.
****
“Achoo!”
Anna glanced up from the leatherbound tome sprawled open on the small table before her. “Bless you, Matilda.” She paused. “Can you actually become sick when you can heal with magic?”
Matilda waved her hand before her nose and sniffed. “Yes, actually. It takes more magic to heal myself than it would to let my own body do it naturally, but I think it’s the mold and dust down here.”
“Let’s bring these old journals up to the great hall,” Alicia said and lifted several of the heavy books with her magic. “Out of this dank hole.”
Anna’s breath caught at the display of strength the thin girl possessed. “Is there a limit to what you can lift?” she asked.
Alicia smiled. “Most definitely, though I practice, and I’m getting stronger.” She beamed with pride.
Anna rubbed her nose at the ticklish dust and grabbed up the book through which she’d been paging. The catacombs beneath Kylkern Castle stretched in inky blackness around them. Cold and damp, the very air reminded her of death.
“We can spread out everything on a table in the great hall,” Matilda said behind her as they climbed.
The three of them emerged and clipped down a corridor into the great hall where William sat with Patricia over a late breakfast. Anna schooled her features into a nonchalantly pleasant smile at the happy couple.
“William,” Alicia said, her face pinching. “You have rats in the castle.”
“Rats?” Patricia said and placed her hand over her porridge as if a few of them might scurry up to dive into her food.
“They drove Anna from her room last night,” Matilda said. “All their bumping and squeals. I’ve set one of the barn cats in there, but Anna would rather move to another room.”
Alicia nodded. “Quite understandable.” She looked at Patricia. “Was there bumping and squealing in your room last night? We can send up another cat.”
Anna’s heart beat heavy in her chest. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Arg! It was useless.
Patricia shook her head, although her cheeks glowed red. “I heard no rats in our room.”
“Rats?” William asked and met Anna’s gaze. Would his acclaimed intuition see through her explanation? Within seconds his mouth relaxed into an amused grin. “I see.”
“William, we should look in our room,” Patricia continued.
He patted her arm as he rose. “I will ensure we are alone in our rooms.” His smile made her flush, and Anna felt a tightening in her chest. Of course she was happy that her sister had found love. William glanced back at Anna. “We will certainly see you moved to a more comfortable room.”
With a kiss, William strode out into the mid-morning chill. Patricia turned her dreamy face to them. “I am the luckiest woman alive.”
Alicia giggled and Matilda smiled. Anna forced her head to nod and then looked down at the books.
“What are you three up to?” Patricia leaned closer, her elbows on the table.
“I want to see what these family history books say about the magic that runs through our blood,” Matilda said. “Perhaps there is something to help Master Drustan with his curse since he is part of our family.”
Was that annoyance in her voice? She’d certainly smiled and flapped her eyelashes at Drustan before realizing his family connection. Anna dropped her narrowing gaze to the books. Good Lord, she should be more charitable. Matilda was a young widow with a child to look after. Of course she would consider a handsome young man.
“Our great-grandmother was Serena Faw Maclean, raised in England by a Romany tribe and wed to Keenan Maclean of Kylkern in the year seventeen-forty-six,” Matilda read.
“The same year as the terrible battle at Culloden Moor,” Anna said, looking up to catch Matilda’s confirmation.
Matilda ran her finger lower on the page. “Keenan’s older brother, Lachlan, supposedly died in battle but came back to life. He handed over the clan to Keenan so he could travel the world. Keenan and Serena had several children, their first being William after whom our uncle is named.”
“I’ve found a list written by Serena Maclean,” Alicia announced. “A list of her siblings.”
“Even the ones born after her death?” Matilda asked.
“Aye, come see.”
They crowded around a smallish leather book that looked like a personal journal. A short list with dates was scrawled across the parchment leaf.
Serena sent to 1733 AD—Leeds, England to Kylkern—hears thoughts/emotions of others
Merewin sent to 826 AD—Northumbria to Denmark—healer
Kailin sent to 1852 AD—Egypt to England to Missouri Territory in America—moves things with magic
Katell sent to 21st century—Carolina in America/16th c England—changes appearance/wards
Drustan sent to 1862—America—absolute power
“Goodness,” Alicia whispered. “Absolute power.” She glanced up at Anna. “What do ye suppose that means?”
“He can speak into the minds of others,” Matilda said, a blush rising in her face. Oh really, what could he have said to her mind that was making her cheeks pink? Charitable, she reminded herself.
“Can he change his appearance?” Alicia asked and looked to Anna.
“I, of course, wouldn’t know,” Anna said.
“He moves things like me,”
Alicia said.
“And he’s cured people of cancer, although he poisons others,” Matilda said, a concentrated frown wrinkling her forehead.
“See if the book says anything about magic not working on soul mates,” Patricia said with one eyebrow raised.
Alicia flipped through the pages, the tip of her finger sliding down the scrawling. “Serena mentions Drakkina.” She looked at Matilda. “That she’s not to be trusted. That she manipulates people to get her way.”
“But I thought her way was to save the world,” Matilda said. “I’d rather like her interference if it means the world continues.”
Helen walked into the hall balancing Sarah on her hip. “Mama,” the child called, her little fingers extended as she jerked her arms toward Matilda.
“She’s up and already busy,” Helen said with a smile.
Matilda kissed her daughter’s cheek and snuggled her close so the child could lay her head on her shoulder. “Thank ye, Helen.”
“I’ll see if I can find some warm porridge for ye.” Helen chucked the child under the chin and waddled off to the kitchens.
Matilda looked over the head of blonde curls that rested against her and met Anna’s gaze. “Aye, anything to save this world and those in it.” The woman had already lost her husband. The hardness of her piercing look said quite fiercely that she’d sacrifice anything to save her daughter.
“Drakkina told me that Gilla’s son is tainted by demons,” Alicia said, the humor gone from her voice. “That he’s evil and will doom the world. That must be Mr. MacDruce as there are no other siblings listed.”
“Goodness,” Patricia said, shaking her ringlet-covered head. “But Mr. MacDruce sent his wolf to save that boy. He sheltered and returned my sister. He even helped us decorate for my wedding.”
“He gave up his bed for you last night,” Alicia pointed out, looking at Anna.
“And William can tell if someone is dangerous or means harm.” Patricia shook her head. “Surely he would have turned the man out if he was of evil intent.”
“He’s cured people of cancer,” Anna repeated and shook her head. “That doesn’t sound evil to me.” She slid her finger down the next brittle page and read.
“I wonder about my brother. Ripped away from his family and ensconced by evil. Is there no hope against his power? Is there no hope for his goodness? Drakkina thinks not, but love can wrought miracles. Perhaps love will save him, save this world.”
Patricia looked up from a book she had spread in front of her. “Here they speak of healing and focusing magic.” Alicia hurried to Patricia’s side. Anna closed the journal listing Drustan’s sisters. Could love turn a demon into an angel? Change a man, doomed to bring death, into a savior? Would that love be for a soul mate? Anna’s stomach tightened as her heart thudded beneath her breastbone. That would mean…that she, Anna Pemberlin, might be responsible for the survival of the whole bloody world.
Chapter Nine
“So ye see,” Matilda said, poking her finger onto the brittle page of a leather-bound book. “If ye concentrate, ye could keep that magic inside ye.” Drustan sensed the hope bubbling up in the woman. “Create a wall around it. Something ye see in yer mind. Add as many senses to the wall as ye can. How it looks, feels, even smells.”
“Smells?” he asked, glancing at Anna where she bent over a large open book. After the previous night, she seemed distant, perhaps embarrassed.
“Like moldy leaves,” Alicia added, wrinkling her nose. She shrugged. “Or roses or hot granite bricks after it rains on them.”
“You have a deep imagination,” Drustan said to the girl. She twirled the end of her hair and smiled, bowing her head back to her book.
Anna turned a page without looking up. “I doubt there are many who could imagine the house you built in the trees. It is…”—she glanced up and stretched her shoulders back—“…beyond imagination.”
Drustan watched the way her bodice stretched across her breasts before she lowered her arms. He remembered the feel of them pressed against him, only a thin scrap of material separating him from her soft skin. The woman seemed to have no idea of her beauty, yet she could seduce Satan himself. Drustan should know.
Anna met his gaze with steady green eyes. “If you could construct that beautiful home, I’m sure you could imagine a wall to encapsulate your power. Have you tried before?”
Self-loathing felt like a heavy sponge, no matter how many times he tried to wring it out. “Yes.” The word was flat and final. Anna however, seemed to be unable or unwilling to read tone.
“And?” she asked.
“She died anyway,” he said.
They stared at one another for a long moment. He needed to talk to her alone. He’d find out why she was once again the icy princess.
Alicia turned more pages. Matilda cleared her throat.
“Was she your lover?” Anna asked.
“Anna,” Patricia admonished from down the table where she sat needlepointing. From the woman’s thoughts, Drustan could easily see how Anna had struggled to hold her tongue in the past. Apparently not so much now.
“Yes,” he said. There was no reason to hide the truth. After the woman Bast had sacrificed by possessing her to have sex with Drustan, he’d refused other women. But Bast finally convinced him to try with another, one without her inhabiting her psyche or essence.
Trudy had been eager, even when he divulged the danger. For a while his efforts to wall his magic off seemed to work, and despite the struggle, Drustan had been able to explore the carnal world of humans. But slowly Trudy sickened, her own body turning against her. No matter how he tried to keep her from touching him, she continued until he realized she wouldn’t stop. She had died in his arms.
“Did you love her?” Anna asked, her words dipped slightly as if the idea picked through her ice.
“Anna, really,” Patricia said, setting her embroidery hoop down on the table.
Had he loved Trudy? She had been beautiful and made him smile. But had he dreamt of her? Did he mourn her and catch himself wishing for her companionship? Would he enjoy the world more with her by his side?
“I don’t think so,” he said and watched Anna’s lovely features tighten in question.
“You don’t think so? You don’t know for certain?” she asked.
“I don’t know what love is. I’ve never experienced it,” he said, his words smooth. “Therefore it is hard for me to place the label.”
All four women stared at him with wide-eyes.
“Your mother must have loved you,” Anna said.
“She saved my sisters with her last bit of power. She left me to defend myself,” he said, repeating Semiazaz’s words.
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t love you,” Patricia said, her needlepoint forgotten.
Drustan looked at the open pages before him even though he was sure the answers did not lie within them.
“Ye should try again,” Matilda said. “Not the lover part, the touching part, appropriate touching.” She spoke in a rush. “I would be there to heal the person if ye can’t contain yer power.”
“You mean my curse,” Drustan said.
Anna picked up another book and opened the first page, perusing it. “I doubt your power is considered a curse by those you’ve saved from cancer. There are poisons that can save life.”
Poison? Hadn’t Semiazaz called him poisonous? A monster who poisoned. Of course he was. To everyone, except the woman down the table from him. She’d been warm and almost willing in his arms, yet in the light of day, she’d built her own walls.
Frustration balled in Drustan’s chest. He stood, his gaze falling on William’s hopeful nieces. “I thank you for your help, but I wouldn’t burden you with any more hunting. Excuse me.” He strode across the hall and out into the cool night air. He used his magic to make himself invisible as he strode past William and his men on their way across the bailey. He didn’t wish to talk to anyone.
On the outskirts of the vill
age, Drustan saw a dark shape slink closer. I am here, he sent to Tenebris’s mind. His friend loped over. Drustan lowered onto the ground and Tenebris sat beside him, looking out across the open moor. He scratched the wolf’s head, taking comfort in the feel of another living creature. Perhaps his mother had loved him. She’d used her magic to give Drustan a living creature he could touch.
He didn’t remember much of her. He’d been so fresh into this world. She’d smelled of warm baking bread and flowers. She would sing to him and hold him. He wasn’t poison then.
But he was now. He’d accepted it years ago and learned to distance himself from mankind. Yet hearing Anna speak it, calling him poison…. It curdled in his stomach. She’d apparently thought better of last night. Perhaps he was destined to live alone, forever in Semiazaz’s new world, an assassin to anyone who embraced him.
****
Anna left the small bedroom where she’d been relocated in the opposite wing from the newlyweds. She clasped her blue wool cape under her chin and stepped briskly down the winding staircase and into the empty great hall. She hadn’t seen Drustan since last evening when she’d chased him from the castle with her tactless tongue. She sighed and looked around. It was early afternoon and everyone was busy doing whatever it was they did. Patricia napped upstairs, probably exhausted from another night of enthusiastic loving. Matilda and Alicia had taken Sarah for a little picnic, and William must be out training his men.
And Drustan was nowhere. What kept him busy each day? Did he hunt for cooking herbs or read the numerous books in his library? Did he practice with his swords or tumble with his wolf? Did he torture himself with the memories of those who’d died at his innocent touch? “Poison. Really, Anna,” she whispered. “You called him poison.”
There was crisp, autumn air outdoors, and she had a desperate need to clear her head. She stepped out through the dark entryway. “Well, he is,” she defended softly to the gloom-heavy sky. It matched her mood, that cloying tightness of guilt. Anna hadn’t needed the berating Patricia gave her to know her lack of tact had once again injured someone.
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