WyndStones

by Wyndstone (lit)

  I did not struggle as the flames engulfed me. I did not cry out. I met my death bravely and well. I stood staring into the eyes of the woman-child whose stung pride and selfishness had brought about this horrible death. Until the flames obscured her face, I continued to hold her gaze, and I believe my eyes were burning brighter than the fire consuming me.

  It was at the moment I took my last breath that I felt the soul being sucked from my body. The pain of the fire—as horrible as that was—was nothing compared to the agony I experienced as that soul was taken from me. I had an impression of green eyes staring at me from the boiling blackness of the heavens above the acrid smoke and then a chilling cold that cut through me like a knife.

  I had no notion where it was She took me. The skin had sloughed off from my body and where Her arms pressed against me as She held me seared every nerve ending still there. I remember the stench of sulfur, slickness beneath my destroyed flesh, that mind-numbing cold.

  “You are in the Abyss, My dearling lad,” She whispered to me then left me there to writhe in agony.

  How long I lay there wallowing in that rancid primordial soup I will never know. A day? A week? Longer? I have no way of knowing. The pain was unending, every passing moment a torment and the stench made my eyes burn. I prayed for it to end. If this was hell—and I was sure it was—I could not imagine what I had done to wind up there. When at last She returned, She hovered over me with a smile on her beautiful face and pronounced me healed.

  I did not know if I was or not for I could no longer move or speak. All that was left to me was to stare with wide, unblinking eyes at that exquisite face as it loomed over me.

  “Your soul is mine, pretty boy,” She said. “You are mine. To do with as I will. From this day forward, the Abyss is your home, your lair, until one of the Tabor clan women calls for your help.”

  “I’ll not give it!” I thought though the words would not come.

  “Aye, but you will, and give it gladly,” She said, “else you will spend eternity in this oozing muck!”

  The only sound I could make was a whimper and when She heard that, Her smile was radiant.

  “Good boy,” She said, “now pay careful attention for it will be the cries, the screams, the pleadings of the Tabor clan women for whom you must listen. Be they of Tabor blood or claimed by it or bonded to its kin, you will go when you are called and you will do what must be done.”

  Her smiled became something so evil, so depraved it made me cringe away from Her lovely face but there was nowhere for me to go. I was trapped in that sickening ooze—coated with it—as She put Her lips to my ear.

  “You will bring them to Me,” she said. “Bond them to you in blood and when it is done, bring them to the Sisterhood.”

  I knew, then, who She was. Her name spread over my brain like a contagion. I wanted to deny Her. I wanted to throw Her demands back in Her face but I knew I could not. She owned my soul—I could feel it missing within my breast—and without it I was but an empty vessel waiting to be used.

  And use me She did. It was not long afterwards that I heard the first cry, the first summons and I had no choice but to go. The only consolation was that I was leaving that noxious slime in which I had been laying. Once free of that rotten muck, I knew I would do whatever it took to never return.

  Her name was Alinor and she became the first of a long line of Tabor-abused women that I set free. As for Reynolds Tabor, I bore that bastard to his fiery fate and left him there to howl at the demons that picked at his bones.

  * * * *

  Lorna stared into the amber eyes of the Nightwind and saw the fires of hell leaping there. The face of a man screaming in agony dwelt in that golden gaze and she knew it was Tabor she saw and not Chrysty Brell.

  “Her name is Lilith,” she said. “The queen of the witches. That is who took your soul.”

  He said nothing—only looked back at her—but there was no need to say the name.

  “Do you seduce them away from their husbands, then?” she asked.

  Chrysty smiled. “There is no need to lure them away, Lorna. They call to me first else I can not come. When they call, when they plead to be taken from this hellish life into which they have been cast, I come. If they want my body, I give it. Most do.”

  She could see why. She had thought Cailean McGregor a handsome man but he could not hold a candle to the Nightwind. The man kneeling before her had the face of a dark angel. His voice was deep and with the brogue sent warm spikes of longing through her.

  “What about Allyn and Duncan?” she asked.

  He smiled. “The net has been cast wider than just the Tabor women. Now it extends to the Shaw and Dunlop clans as well.” He shrugged carelessly. “Those were the last of the Hill women who were not directly related to the Tabor clan by marriage. Now, all the women will one day belong to the Nightwinds.”

  “Is that why the exorcism didn’t work?”

  “Your brother didn’t know why he was brought here,” he said, drawing her attention to his full lips then back to the hypnotic eyes. “He does now.”

  “What do you mean?” she questioned. “They wanted him to do the exorcism.”

  “They knew it would do no good. You can not dispel a Nightwind with such a ritual. They wanted Daniel Brent here because they knew his sister would follow.”

  Deep lines formed between Lorna’s brows. “I don’t under .…”

  “They wanted you here, Lorna,” he said. “They wanted the last female descendant of Reynolds Tabor to Join with the man who will be elected the new laird of the clan.”

  She gasped. “Me?” She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. There have been no Tabors in the Brent line.”

  “Aye, but there were. On your mother’s side of the family.”

  “No,” she said again, shaking her head more firmly. “My mother’s people were Dysons. Mama is .…”

  “Adopted,” he said gently and when her eyes widened, he sighed heavily. “You didn’t know.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said.

  “It’s true, Lorna. Her mother was Agnes Shore, daughter of Lacey Tabor. Lacey had only the one daughter, Agnes, and no son to carry on his name. He blamed his wife and child for his not having an heir. He killed his wife in a drunken rage and abused Agnes so badly the Shadowlords were asked to intervene. They sent the Prime Reaper after him and Lacey made the mistake of drawing down on the lawman. Agnes was taken to the orphanage at Summit Hill where she was later adopted by the Dysons.”

  “Isn’t Jubal Regis head of the clan?” she asked, trying to gain time to consider what he was saying.

  “Jubal is being eaten away with cancer and he is dying without issue,” Chrysty told her. “He has but a few weeks at most so he will see his appointed as laird before that time passes. Already the man is being considered for Eldership and once that is achieved, he can assume the mantle of laird.”

  “Cailean?” she asked breathlessly.

  “The one and the same,” the Nightwind answered. “A man with many acknowledged faults, the worst of which is a nasty temper when he doesn’t get his way.”

  Lorna tore her gaze from his and searched the floor at her feet as though she might find answers to the myriad questions tumbling around inside her head. She put a hand to her temple where a dull ache had begun.

  “The Elders knew about you and your brother, of course,” he went on. “There were a lot of angry men on Tabor Hill when Daniel took his vows. They looked for a way to get him here, to get you here with him. They want him to mate with one of their daughters to carry on the Tabor line.”

  Horror flitted over Lorna’s face. “Danny will never forsake his vows!” she said.

  “I hope you are right for the line needs to end. The legacy of evil the clan has sustained needs to die out.”

  The ache in Lorna’s head was growing steadily worse. It had been years since she’d had the debilitating headaches that had begun when she was in her early teens. She feared the pain returni
ng and it felt as though it had.

  “It is tension,” he said, lifting both hands to place his fingertips on her temples. “Nothing more.” He started to rub in slow, tight little circles and the pain immediately decreased.

  She closed her eyes as he worked his magic. She could hear his soft breath, feel the warmth of his fingers.

  “You are a very beautiful woman.”

  Lorna’s green eyes fluttered open. He had moved closer so that his chest pressed against her knees. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to open her legs and let him move closer still. She fused her gaze with his as he threaded his fingers through her hair, put his thumbs on her temple to continue the gentle massage.

  “So beautiful.”

  His voice was husky, filled with a sensuous cadence that made her womb tighten. She became lost in his heated amber eyes. Passion swept over her and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, to have him lay her down, cover her with his hard body.

  “I want you,” he whispered and molded his lips to hers.

  The kiss made her head spin and her toes curl. It was the softest touch but carried with it the punch of a lightning bolt. She clutched at his waist, burying her fingers in the soft black silk. He wedged himself between her legs and she had the wild desire to lift her legs, lock them around him, and adhere to him like a feather to molasses. The moment his tongue swept slowly, seductively across her lips she could feel her body melting, her willpower giving way. She groaned deep in her throat—heard his low, throbbing echo—then he moved one hand from her face, between them to cup her breast.

  “No!” she said, jerking back from his touch. She batted his hands away. “Stop that! You’re trying to lure me and I won’t have it!”

  “I am not Kurt Sprague, Lorna,” he said, dropping his hands to his thighs.

  “You’re a man and you’re all alike!” she hissed. She scrambled out of the chair—scraping her calf on the seat as she dragged it over—and stumbled across to the other side of the room, putting the overstuffed chair between her and him.

  “If you had but called I would have heard you that night and come to your aid,” he said. He remained kneeling on the floor with his back to her. His head was bent, shoulders slumped. “I would have snapped his neck like a dry twig for what he did to you.”

  She knew he meant what he said. If she had given in to the despair that had sought so desperately to escape her, cried out, cursed Kurt’s treachery, Chrysty would have appeared on that lonely roadway. He would have championed her as he had generations of her ancestors. He would have gone after the man who had hurt her so carelessly and righted the wrong that had been done.

  “You would have killed him,” she said and when he nodded silently, her forehead creased with confusion. “Why?”

  Still he did not turn, did not look around at her. “Because he hurt what is mine, granted to me by Her grace.”

  “I am not yours!” she snapped. “I belong to no man nor will I!”

  “You are mine,” he said firmly and got to his feet. He turned slowly, his eyes glowing. “You belong to me just as I belong to you. You can not change what is, Lorna. Long before you were a speck in the mist of time the first Tabor woman agreed to it. All direct-line Tabor women belong to me but you, you are different. You are the one for whom I have been waiting all my life.”

  “No!” she said. “I won’t accept that!”

  “Accept it or not,” he said. “It is the truth.”

  She tensed for he was coming toward her, his hands loose at his sides but she could feel the coiled energy, the danger emanating from his body. She backed into the corner, pressing tight to the angle of the walls, her palms flat against the plaster.

  “Make no mistake about it, Lorna,” he said. “If you Join with Cailean McGregor you will regret it. He will regret it. This entire settlement will regret it.”

  “Don’t make threats,” she said, hating the quiver that had entered her voice.

  “It is not a threat, sweeting. It is a promise. McGregor is a despicable cur who made his wife’s life a living hell before she begged Duncan to take her from him. He will do the same for you if you listen to his lies.”

  “I have no intention of Joining with him or any other man!” she told him.

  “They intend to see you give birth to his heir,” he said, stopping short for she put out a hand to deny him coming any closer.

  “Just go away,” she said, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. “Please. Leave.”

  He hesitated for a moment then simply vanished as though he’d never been there. The room began a measured return to the brightness that had been there from the moon’s light. Trembling, her heart pounding so cruelly in her chest she thought it might well break free of her ribcage, Lorna slid down the wall, cowering behind the chair. She circled her knees with her arms and stayed that way until she heard heavy footsteps coming toward her room.

  The door was flung open just as she took a seat on the side of her bed. It would not do for Daniel to know she had not been alone, that the evil of Tabor Hill had been visiting her.

  “You will not leave this house at night again!” Daniel shouted. “Tomorrow, I will have all the windows measured for bars and I will have a lock installed on both doors and only I will have the keys to them!”

  “You mean to keep me a prisoner?” she asked, aghast at the towering fury she sensed flowing from her normally easygoing brother.

  “I mean to see you kept safe from the Nightwind!” he yelled. “You have no notion what it is you are flirting with, Lorna!”

  Lorna was stifling in the room. Sweat was beading her brow and she ran a hand over her face. “This is ridiculous,” she said, getting to her feet. “I am not going to spend another minute in this inferno!”

  Daniel reached out to restrain her but she bulldozed past him, shoving him aside as she marched into the parlor.

  “You are not going out that door!” he thundered, running after her.

  “I’ll sleep on the settee but I will not sleep in that suffocating room, Daniel!” she yelled back at him.

  “Let her sleep here.”

  Lorna jumped for the words had come from behind her. She spun around to find Cailean sitting in a chair beside the fireplace, his elbows on the chair arm and his fingertips pressed together. She turned to send her brother an accusing glower.

  “Why is he here?” she demanded but instead of Daniel answering her, McGregor did.

  “I am here to keep you safe from the evil that permeates the Hill, Lorna,” he told her.

  Lorna narrowed her eyes. It didn’t matter if she was parading in front of the man in her nightgown. It was dark in the room but she was a bit unnerved to realize Cail’s eyes were glowing softly in the low light, but she was so enraged by his presence in the parlor, she threw all caution to the wind.

  “And which evil would that be, Mr. McGregor? The demon you men fear so greatly or the evil that is within the males who live here?”

  She heard Daniel gasp then felt his fingers wrapping around her upper arm. He shook her hard enough to make her teeth snap together.

  “Keep a civil tongue in your mouth, woman!” he snarled.

  Lorna’s mouth dropped open. “Woman?” she echoed, staring at her brother’s angry face in what little light there was in the room.

  “Leave us, Daniel,” Cailean ordered and to Lorna’s shock, her brother did just that, letting go of her arm and turning away without a word.

  “How dare you come into this house and order my brother around as though you .…”

  “I am to be the laird of the clan,” he interrupted. “Every building, every animal, every blade of grass on the Hill belongs to me. I have dominion over it all.”

  Fury lashed through Lorna. She took a step toward him—hands on her hips—and all but growled her answer to that statement.

  “You do not have dominion over me, Cailean McGregor, and you never will!”

  He moved so fast she ha
d no time to leap back. One moment he was sitting calmly in the chair and the next he had her upper arms imprisoned with his hard hands.

  “You are very special to the clan, Lorna,” he said from between clenched teeth. “More special than you could possibly know. The Elders have your guardian’s permission for the two of us to be Joined and Joined we will be this coming Friday eve.”

  “The hell we will!” she spat at him, struggling to break free of his punishing grip. When he would not release her she kicked out at him with her bare feet but only managed to hurt her toes and make him laugh.

  “Woman, you are going to be a handful I am looking forward to taming,” he said then swooped down to slam his mouth over hers.

  Lorna was so stunned by his actions and by the ripples of heat flowing from his hands down her arms, it took her a moment to react to the kiss. When she did, she twisted violently in his grip, pulled her head back so he could not reach her mouth then tried to bring her knee up into his groin. He surprised her by pivoting to the side and dragging her against his hip, half-lifting her from the floor. Without a word he took her to the settee and flung her down, covering her body with his before she could get away.

  “Get off me!” she shouted. “Daniel!”

  “He’ll not come,” McGregor told her. “He knows his place within the clan.” His hand went to her leg, grabbing the hem of her nightgown to drag it up her thigh. “And it is time you learned yours.”

  “Daniel!” she yelled, struggling like a wild woman now for the fear of being raped again was like a hot needle being driven into her brain. “Daniel!”

  But just as Cailean said, her brother did not come to her aid. His fingers were at the edge of her panties and the moment his flesh touched her most intimate part, she stiffened, threw back her head and screamed.

  At first the name the woman beneath him screamed did not register with McGregor. When she screamed the name again, he lifted his head, hissing at her like a cornered rattler before he put his free hand over her mouth.

  “Do not dare say that evil name!” he ordered.

  Though she could no longer call aloud to the Nightwind, she was shrieking his name in her head.