Kitty followed her friend downstairs, her intuition already telling her what both women refused to believe.
Once taken by Dallan, Shona would never come home.
* * *
Dallan gave his coat a final tug, adjusted the plaid draped over one shoulder and then stood straight for inspection. Angus eyed him carefully, making slight adjustments to the Scot’s attire where needed, then stepped back to take in his handiwork. “Aye, ye look grand, lad. Verra grand indeed.”
Lany stared appreciatively at the proud Weapons Master, perfectly at home with the elaborate display he wore. Angus had dressed Dallan in full highland rig-out. “How did you get your hands on all this, Angus?”
“Zara. She and I thought the lad ought to be married in this. ‘Tis his wedding clothes he wears. He’ll ha’ no time to change, so he might as well wear them now.”
Dallan looked down at Angus, surprise and pleasure mixed into his expression. “I thank ye, Angus. ‘Tis a fine plaid, a might fine one.”
“Picked it out meself.” Angus beamed. “Wasna easy to get a MacDonald plaid. Had to go to Glencoe twice.”
“Twice?” Lany asked bemused.
“Aye, the blasted heathen kept getting the date wrong. Did ye ken they outlawed the wearing of kilts in the eighteenth century? Forgot all about that.”
Dallan stood in awe, eyes wide. “Ye went to my home to fetch this?”
Angus beamed. “Aye, laddie. And it looked fine. Yer grandfather’s house still stood, though he and yer family had been long since gone.”
Dallan bowed his head a moment and whispered to himself in Gaelic.
John stepped forward for the first time and smiled. “He’s not over-dressed?”
“Nay, Lord John. There will be other folk there dressed like the lad. The entire orchestra is kilted. ‘Twas so last summer when they came here to perform.”
John smiled again, as did Lany.
Angus shrugged. “I never miss anything from home, gentlemen.” He smoothed his own kilt and brushed the shoulders of his coat with his hand. “Are we ready?”
John looked around. “Kwaku?”
“He and Zara will catch up later,” Lany replied. “They’ll be around. Don’t worry.”
John took a calming breath before looking up at Dallan. “Brennan will more than likely challenge you.”
“Then Brennan will no longer live, John.”
“Just make sure the Maiden is kept safe. That’s all you have to do. I don’t think Brennan intends to take her yet. He’s hardly in a position to now, not with a full bonding already in place. But let’s not take any chances.”
“Kwaku didn’t give any input?” Lany asked his voice heavy with concern.
“He was too worried about Zara. I think he left the garden before we did. He should be done feeding her by now.”
“Again?” Lany and Angus exclaimed in unison.
Dallan took in Lany’s amusement and Angus’s disgust. “Why d’ye always make such a fuss over a man taking a meal with his wife? I grant it’s the heathen, but I ha’ seen the man eat. He’s no a savage with his food.”
Angus grumbled while John smiled, biting his lip. Lany shook his head, stepped to Dallan and put his arm around him. “Dallan, there’s something I bet you’ve wondered about for years.”
Dallan glared first at him, then the arm draped across his shoulders. “And what might that be?”
Lany beamed. “Why do you think Kwaku is always in such a good mood?”
“Because the man’s a bloody good-for-nothing heathen that doesna ken any better. And he also kens how it aggravates me to no end.”
Lany pressed his lips together tightly, his face filled with mischievous anticipation. “No.”
Dallan raised a curious brow.
Lany leaned closer. “The reason is…” he whispered the rest of the disclosure in Dallan’s ear.
Dallan’s eyes grew wide and his face fell into a horrific scowl. “Ye canna be serious!” He threw his warrior’s stare at everyone in the room, searching for confirmation.
John, Lany and Angus all nodded sagely to him at the same time.
Dallan shook his head in utter disgust. “Och, why the good-for-nothing! So that’s why he runs home to the city so bloody fast! Always wondered why the man could be smiling all the time. I never kent he even had a woman until I met the Lady.”
He shook his head one last time before his face suddenly lit with an idea. Apparently, a very intriguing idea. He swallowed and put an arm around the Assistant Councilor, giving him a healthy squeeze. “Tell me, Master Lany… what does Shona feed off of?”
Lany stared up at him. “Wipe that look off your face! It’s not the same thing Zara does!”
Dallan released him and sighed. “Ye canna blame a man for hoping.”
Lany threw him a bemused look. “Just how much experience do you have?” He turned to John who was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing. “Eaton, I thought you said he was a… mmm…”
“I’m no ashamed of my lack o’ experience, Master Lany. As I said before, today ‘twas not my first time to ever kiss a woman and I well ken what it’s like to verra much want more.”
Lany merely nodded and let his arm fall to his side. “Okay.”
Dallan however was not through. “Ye never answered my question. With what does Shona feed her heart?”
Lany looked from John to Angus, both of whom had buried their mouths in their hands. “Well,” he began, his own mouth curving into a smile, his thoughts matching those of his companions. “Can you sing, Dallan?”
Dallan’s eyes widened slightly. “I dinna ken, I’ve never really tried. Sober at any rate.”
Angus exploded into a hysterical display of snorts and chuckles. John merely stood silently shaking with suppressed laughter.
Dallan took in the scene and shot Lany an intimidating glare.
Lany ignored it and put his arm back around the Scot. “Dallan, you’ll just have to learn.”
* * *
“Shona, sit next to me.” Philip took her by the arm and led her to the front row seats of his private box. The concert hall was nearly full, its occupants in a colorful mixture of evening wear and Highland dress, the latter drawing quite a bit of attention from the former.
She sat reluctantly, knowing she would be able to search for Dallan among the chattering throng much better if standing. But how to find him among so many? Would he be in a tuxedo or kilt?
She suddenly smiled. Dallan MacDonald would be in a kilt.
“Happy you came, my dear?” Philip cooed as he handed her a program.
She took the program and forced a second smile as her parents took the seats behind them to silently sit and wait for whatever the evening was to bring. She had a feeling whatever it was would be final—no do-over, no second thoughts, nothing. A clear cut line was about to be drawn across all their lives, one none of them would be able to erase.
“Shona,” Maggie leaned forward in her seat. “See anyone we know?”
Shona knew what her mother meant. “No, not yet. You?”
“No.”
Shona took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I am sure we will run into someone. We have been doing so a lot lately, have we not?”
Maggie patted her shoulder. “That we have.”
Philip seemed to ignore the exchange and busied himself by reading his program. “Ah, Rachmaninoff ’s ‘Isle of the Dead’ is the first selection. Wonderful choice. Have you heard it, Shona?”
Shona scanned the audience below them, her eyes landing on the still empty box opposite theirs at the other side of the huge concert hall. “No, that is a work of his I am not yet familiar with.”
Philip smiled slowly and studied her from head to toe. “Well, I’ve heard it. I trust you will find the piece most satisfying.”
The hint of mockery in his voice confused her. She stilled the warnings flying through her head and continued to search the now-seated masses. Did Philip know about her m
usic, how it affected her? She had not had time to check on the orchestra’s selections until now. And what of the one piece she was unfamiliar with on the program. The first one.
Isle of the Dead. Shona shivered. Lovely title.
The lights suddenly dimmed twice, signaling for everyone to take their seats. Shona noticed how dark it was in their box and feared Dallan would be unable to see her.
After a few moments the lights again dimmed and stayed that way as the earlier sounds of individual instruments being tuned ceased. An ominous hush settled, wrapping the hall in heavy silence, the only sound that of the curtain rising from the wide stage.
Applause suddenly shattered the quiet without warning. Shona unexpectedly jumped and had to force herself to wait for her heart to settle before opening her eyes, realizing rather belatedly she’d closed them.
The conductor appeared on stage, which brought the applause up a notch in volume. He reached the podium and bowed to the audience with practiced grace before turning to the orchestra.
The music began.
Shona sat perfectly still during the first few passages. Several cello players plucked notes with practiced precision as the other orchestra members readied themselves for their own parts, the sounds pleasing. She took a steady, deep breath and for quite a few minutes reveled in what they played.
Suddenly the music began to build. As did her hunger.
She drew in another breath and leaned forward in her chair, straining toward the onslaught of sound coming from the stage. The music stroked and teased her, building in texture and intensity, only to back off to a lighter, less encompassing tone. Then it started over again, but now the music kept building, climbing higher and higher, taking her and any common sense she might have hidden away along with it.
Shona had begun to feed.
Philip watched her from the corner of an eye with interest, a smile planted firmly on his face. He knew what was happening and how to use it to his advantage. He’d heard this particular piece of music many times and knew exactly how the Maiden would react.
His plan was moving along perfectly.
Julia belatedly joined the four already seated and sat to watch Philip take control of Shona, her own job as guardian and trainer nearly done, her relationship with him along with it. She stared coldly at the back of his head, waiting for the rest of the evening to unfold.
Shona, oblivious to Julia's presence began to gulp air, her head moving forward and back in an odd rhythm as her entire body absorbed the music. She had not been to a symphony concert in years, her parents refusing to take her after she reached her teens.
With what little control she had left, she suddenly realized why. They knew. All this time, her parents knew what she was.
But, what was that?
She didn’t know. All she did know was the volumne and vibration of the instruments had become euphoric, the music straining toward a climax, only to fall back to a teasing sensation. It lifted and dropped, ran circles through her mind and around her heart while the thing fed itself.
The music’s emotion built even higher.
“Listen to it, Shona, listen well.” Philip whispered in her ear, his voice a seductive timbre. “Let it take you…”
The music turned stormy, still building, and her breathing became ragged. She began to pull her lips away from her teeth, hands balling into fists in response to a sudden need to express near-violence. She suddenly gasped, eyes wide at the unexpected emotion.
The music bridged to an even stormier passage. Shona threw her head back and moaned, a total prisoner now.
Philip leaned again to her ear. “Yes, my dear, listen, feed your self. You will do as I say, will you not? Yes, yes, that’s it, feed off of it, fill yourself!”
Shona began to pant.
“You will serve me, girl, and serve me well. Listen to my voice. I am your only master. You will obey only me and the first thing I want you to do is kill!”
His last word and the music hit her with tremendous force and she snarled like a huge cat. Her whole body tensed, readying itself as a stark, cold, bloodlust began to pulse through her veins.
Philip grabbed her leg. She instantly shuddered at his touch, her back arching with an evil chill. Her eyes widened and she again moaned helplessly, the sound drowned out by the music, music which suddenly settled, bridging down to a different passage. An even darker one.
Philip, ready for the change, coldly and seductively threw his next words at her. “Kill, Shona. You will kill for me. The boy, Shona. Kill the boy. He will hurt you if you don’t. Hurt you and leave you broken, unwanted. As will the man he has become. Kill him for me before he kills you!”
His voice, now an evil lure, burned into her mind, gripping her senses as something inside her again turned violent in response. Her hands clawed at the chair in which she sat, her heart becoming prisoner and slave to the words. She was helpless to fight him, her heart ready for joining, submission.
Philip smiled wickedly in satisfaction and turned to face Julia and the Whittards. “She is now mine, Evan.”
Evan merely sat, his hand gripping one of Maggie’s, eyes narrowed in warning.
Philip laughed at him as he leaned in their direction. “Julia, if either interferes, shoot them.”
Maggie turned to look at Julia, who held her purse in her lap, one hand placed just inside its opening. She pulled half the gun out to let her see it and then smiled almost as wickedly as Philip.
Maggie’s panic stricken face spun to Evan, who shook his head for her to do what Philip wanted. He squeezed her hand reassuringly and gave the barest of nods toward the audience.
Maggie discretely scanned the crowds, her eyes finally coming to rest where Evan’s had. She smiled slightly with relief and let loose the breath she’d been holding.
The music changed again. Calmer, quieter. Preparing for another passage.
Philip had turned his attention back to Shona. “You are mine, do you hear me? Mine to do with as I please. Mine to take and devour!” He purposely looked Evan right in the eye, then grabbed Shona with one arm and began to lick and kiss her neck.
Shona shuddered violently at his touch, her body now a series of twitches. He abruptly released her, and she froze as the music took on a new emotion, building again, soaring. Taking her right along with it.
A romantic passage began, breaking through Philip’s hold, searing her heart with memories and longing, reminding her of another even as Philip continued his words of vile, lustful destruction.
Then she saw him.
Dallan stood in the box opposite Philip’s, his eyes burning with possessiveness, passion, anger and need. She gripped him with her own and suddenly stood, her heart immediately fusing with his. “Dallan?” The name was desperately sung at the height of the music’s passage, streaking across the hall to join with the man who held her by a mere look.
Shona’s features instinctively fluxed.
Dallan’s intense stare held her even tighter and his mouth began to form words, words born not of passion, but of a soul-searing, desperate need to be spoken. “I love you.”
Her features froze and she threw her head back then suddenly forward. She looked to him again, and began to sing.
The Call shot across the concert hall, blending with the music already playing, the sound doubling in its volume and intensity, ramming into Dallan so hard he nearly fell over backward. The Call bore into his soul to claim the words he had silently mouthed. It demanded, begged, strained for the real words sought. The words of his heart.
Dallan braced himself and reached again across the massive hall to Shona, his eyes claiming her once more, his mouth again prepared to speak, his heart open and ready for her.
“Tha gaol agam ort.” I love you.
Shona’s breathing slowed and her head fell forward, her hair coming loose from its braid. She suddenly threw it back and captured him. “Ceannsaich?” The word flew to him on notes of need, surrounded by the music of not only her v
oice but the orchestra’s as well.
Ceannsaich. Master.
In that moment, Dallan knew he had won her.
Philip, suddenly aware he no longer held her attention, grabbed Shona brutally and pulled her back into the chair. His eyes searched the hall, scanning for any sign of his enemy. He had underestimated… a mistake he did not wish to repeat. He saw nothing but an empty box opposite his own.
The Maiden stared at it with desperate longing. She had sung her final Call, and the boy, now grown to manhood had been the one to answer, not Philip.
He seethed in anger and abruptly turned to Julia. “We’re taking her out of here. Get Graves, Kent and the car. Now!”
Julia stood and headed straight for the curtained exit behind her. Kent she knew was just outside guarding the entrance to the box. Graves patrolled elsewhere.
Philip yanked Shona out of her seat and began to drag her along with him. Evan also stood, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“Don’t even think about it, Evan. I’ll kill you if you dare interfere.” Philip’s threat made Maggie shrink into her chair and managed to wipe the threatening look from Evan’s face.
It did not, however, keep Evan from speaking. “You’re a dog, Philip.”
“I haven’t the time for this. Out of my way!” Philip pushed Shona ahead of him toward the exit.
Evan stood, his face a mask of indecision.
His foot, however, had made up his mind for him. It shot out and caught one of Philip’s own, landing him flat on his face.
“Run, Shona!” Maggie cried as she sprang from her chair and shoved her daughter through the curtained exit.
The music climaxed, its sound deafening. No one else heard the threatening exchange that followed.
Philip jumped to his feet in a rage and grabbed Evan. “You stupid fool!
I’ll kill you for this! She’s to be mine, do you hear me? Mine!” He let go of Evan’s shirt, shoved him back into his chair and ran from the box.
Too late. The Maiden and her mother were nowhere to be seen. Philip let out a howl of anger and started after them.
Evan emerged from the box and stared after his retreating form, one comforting thought left with him. “You lose, Philip.”
Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) Page 42
