by Victoria Zak
By the gods, she missed her.
“Mum, I’m so sorry. Please forgive the heartache I’ve brought ye. We only wanted ye safe.” Masie lowered her head, resting it on her steepled hands and kissed the brooch as she prayed.
“Go forth upon yer journey from this world. May the sun always shine down upon ye. May yer soul find happiness and grief no more. O’ Mother, O’ Maiden, O’ Crone of Wisdom, I pray ye watch over my mum and lead her into the afterworld.”
The candle flickered. Masie lifted her head, watching the flame’s shadow dance up the stone wall. Could this be a sign? Had her mother finally heard her prayer?
“Mum,” Masie whispered.
A cold wind blew out the candles. Disappointed, Masie hung her head.
The darkness didn’t scare her. In fact, it soothed her. The ten harrowing years she’d spent with the fae queen had made her come to find peace in darkness. It was a shock at first to discover she was something other than human. As soon as the queen lifted the shielding spell Masie’s mother had placed on her, the pain was relentless. Too weak, she spent day after day in bed struck with fever and stomach cramps. Her sisters, just as sick, took care of her. There were times when Masie wanted to take her own life. The pain was that unbearable.
Masie shook free from those ghastly memories. Last Samhain the girls escaped the fae queen and returned home only to hear her mother had died right after the laird’s mysterious death. The queen had failed in her promise, and Masie believed they had been tricked. Her mother was supposed to be safe. They had sold their souls to the queen and become monsters of the night—all for naught.
They’d accepted their newfound destiny, even took an oath to never talk about their curse or the time they had spent with the dark fae. They were blood drinkers now, eternally living in the shadows. Feared because their kind were unexplainable. Blessed with gifts viewed as evil, their blood healed the sick and prevented death. Masie swore she’d never give into the wickedness of the queen and would only drink from the dying.
Masie stood and tucked the brooch deep into the valley of her breasts. She opened the door and stepped out into the lively night where Clan Keith danced and feasted in celebration of the end of summer. As it grew late, folks headed back to their homes before the wicked came out to play.
It was rumored during Samhain that the fairy mounds opened and the veil between the dead and living was at its thinnest. Although true, it amused her overhearing mothers warn their children of the dangerous creatures lurking outside. If they had only seen the terrors I’ve seen. Masie smiled inwardly. She couldn’t hold back any longer. This was the time she felt most alive, when a different rhythm pulsed through the earth. Some kind of magic swam in the air, feeding her wild side.
Masie strolled through the moor. The flames from the bonfire raged up into the night sky and heated her skin. She stretched her arms up and twirled around, dancing to the hum of music inside her. Hiking up her dress, she joined the dancers around the fire. She felt free, even if it was only for one night. The threat of the queen finding them always loomed, but tonight, she welcomed the magic and threw caution to the wind.
Song after song played. Masie danced until she couldn’t catch her breath. She excused herself and walked over to a table to get some wine. A strange sensation pricked her skin. Someone was watching her. Slowly, she whirled around. No one was there. She sighed with relief, often guilty of letting her imagination run amuck.
She returned to the bonfire to find a place to sit and wait for Leana, which meant she’d be here awhile, alone. Masie found a spot and sat down. Bringing the tankard of wine to her lips, the sensation returned. She froze. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled as a winged man standing on the other side of the fire stared at her. He ruffled his black wings and grinned wickedly. Masie gasped and dropped her cup. The queen’s guard! Shite!
Tamping down the urge to panic, Masie averted her gaze. Mayhap she was seeing things. She dared to look back into the flames and when she did, the fae was gone. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Finding her sister was the only thing she could focus on.
Where could she be? She knew she hadn’t retired for the night and had to be out here. But where?
Masie headed toward the blacksmith shop. It was the last place she hadn’t looked. Given the way Leana had pranced off with two men earlier, and knowing her wild streak, she could most definitely be inside the building. Irritated by her sister’s behavior, Masie banged on the door. “Leana! Are ye in there?”
No answer.
She knocked again. “Leana, I’m coming in.”
As Masie entered, she prayed to the goddess she’s find her sister. Not wanting to see her sister tangled with her lovers, Masie kept her gaze focused on the ground. “Leana, this is no’ funny.”
As she walked deeper inside, she saw a pair of trews and tunic scattered on the floor, then another pair of trews. What the devil?
Her search abruptly came to an end when Masie found her sister lying on the ground. “Leana!” Masie called out. “Why dinnae ye answer me?”
Masie gasped and held her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Leana was unconscious and lying between two naked men. Blood trailed down the corners of her sister’s mouth.
“Leana.” Masie knelt and checked her sister’s neck for a pulse. Thank the gods, she was alive. “Wake up.” She shook her.
Leana gradually came to. She held her head. “What happened?”
As Masie fetched Leana’s dress, she tripped on one of the bodies. Her eyes grew wide when she saw two puncture wounds on the man’s neck. Quickly, Masie checked him for any signs of life. He was cold. “Nay, Beathen,” she whispered. Shite! “Leana, what have ye done?”
“What do ye mean?” Leana finished slipping her dress over her head. She looked down, then back at Masie. “I dinnae understand. I—”
“Sister, these men are dead.”
Terror-stricken, Leana shivered in disbelief.
“That’s the laird’s son,” Masie said in alarm.
“By the saints,” Leana whispered. “Masie, I-I…”
Masie pulled her into a hug. “Shh.”
“I didnae kill those men, Masie. Ye must believe me.”
“I do, Sister.” She smoothed her hand down Leana’s red, tangled hair. “We have to get out of here and tell Adaira. She’ll know what to do.”
“Aye.”
Thankfully, the castle inhabitants were asleep as Masie and Leana snuck up the stairs to their bedchamber. Masie opened the door.
Adaira leapt off the bed. “Where have ye been? ’Tis late.”
Dismayed, Leana shuffled to her bed and lay down.
“What’s troubles her?” Adaira asked.
“Something verra bad has happened tonight,” Masie’s voice cracked.
“Tell me.”
“I found Leana naked with two men.”
“Aye,” Adaira said, as if the news was common enough.
“They had puncture wounds on the side of their necks.”
“Aye.” This time she sounded intrigued.
“They were dead.”
“Dead?” Adaira exclaimed.
“One of the lads was the laird’s son.”
Adaira glared at Leana. “What have ye done?”
“She says she didnae kill them.”
“And ye believe her? I warned ye two about the wickedness this night would bring.” Adaira began to pace.
Masie couldn’t believe what she’d seen. In her heart, she wanted to believe Leana was innocent, but she couldn’t shake free from the memory of two dead bodies and the blood on Leana’s lips.
“If Leana says she’s innocent, then I trust she’s telling the truth.” Masie sat down next to Leana, watching Adaira pace in front of the window.
“The laird has sent his guards in search already,” Adaira said, pointing out the window.
Masie joined her by the widow. Seven Highlanders perched high on their warhorses charg
ed out of the front gates.
“We’ll be hung for this,” Adaira said dryly.
Masie knew it true. Ever since their return to Dornoch Castle, they had been under suspicion. Masie heard the whispers floating around the village square, accusing them of witchcraft. It all started one day at the market, a good deed gone bad.
A young child was dying of fever. Masie’s heart had shattered when the child’s mother begged her to help. Although Masie knew better than to meddle with death, she couldn’t let the child die. So she healed him. The word spread and they were under a watchful eye ever since.
“What are we going to do?” Masie asked.
“There’s only one thing we can do. Leave,” Adaira said.
Masie’s heart sank into her stomach. Not because she had fond memories here, but the thought of traveling through the Highlands without proper shelter to hide away from the sun was a sure death to their kind. Fortunately, winter was coming, which meant the daylight hours grew ever shorter.
“Aye, we must go,” Masie agreed.
Adaira pulled herself away from the widow and strode to her trunk. “Pack light. I’ll ready the horses.”
With haste, Masie packed a satchel for Leana who had fallen into a state of shock.
Masie took a green cloak from her trunk and draped it over her shoulders, then did the same for Leana. She kneeled in front of her sister. “We’re in this together.” She gave her a hug and was disappointed when Leana didn’t respond.
Unaccustomed to Leana’s weakened condition, it broke her heart to see her usually carefree sister reduced to this. “Adaira is waiting for us with horses. Can ye ride?”
Leana met Masie’s gaze and nodded.
“Good.” Masie smiled. “Let’s make haste.” She helped her sister to her feet.
They made their way through the corridor and down the stairs to the great hall. A group of men marched upstairs. Quickly, Masie hid herself and Leana in the shadows. The laird had already sent for them. This is no’ good. When it was clear, they pushed forward and ran out the castle door. They scurried across the bailey to the stables. As Masie entered, she found the stable marshal in a heap on the ground.
She looked up at Adaira, who was saddling the last horse. “Did ye have to kill him?”
“I didnae kill him. He’s sleeping.” She winked.
Maisie’s heart pounded, fearful of being caught by guards. “The laird has already sent his men after us. I saw them searching upstairs as we left.”
“We must go. Is she ready to ride?” Adaira nodded toward Leana.
“Aye.” By the saints, she hoped so.
They mounted their horses and urged them into a thunderous gallop toward the shoreline and never looked back.
Chapter Two
The sisters had been riding for days through the rocky moor, following the shoreline, and avoiding the sun. They hid in caves until nightfall or traveled in the rain. Today, the sky was gray, a perfect time to hunt. Adaira had promised when they came across the next village, they’d stay for a couple of nights. Sustaining their strength on small forest animals wasn’t enough, they needed human blood.
With Adaira leading, they stopped next to a loch to let their horses drink and to relieve themselves. Masie dismounted and walked toward the water. She kneeled, dipping her cupped hands into the cold water. As she brought them to her lips, she smelled a familiar essence.
“There’s blood in the water,” she murmured. Where’s the body?
Masie searched the shoreline. The odor wasn’t only coming from the water, it filled the air. She followed the scent around the bend. Where there’s blood, there must be a body.
Squinting, she tried to make out a heap of something floating in the surf. The iron smell brought her to a body. Crows circled overhead as she examined the face-down body in the shallows. This couldn’t be good. With caution, Masie dragged the corpse ashore, then rolled him over. She sat back on her heels and closely studied him.
His armor identified him as a warrior. And judging by the way he’d bled out, he’d met the pointy end of a sword. She wiped the blood from his chest plate. Too hungry to control herself, she sucked the blood from her fingers. She’d gone too long without feeding, a dangerous thing. Before she’d drank her fill, she noticed her family’s crest on his armor. Quickly, Masie stood. Were there more men? If so, she wasn’t safe.
Desperate to return to her sisters and warn them, a faint moan stopped her. She’d only made it a few feet, but had gone far enough to see dozens of men sprawled along the beach and well into the forest. She gasped. There were so many. Some groaned in agonizing pain, the others, not moving at all.
By the goddess… She ran back to her sisters.
“What is it?” Adaira asked with concern.
“There’s…men…dead…on the shore. Come.”
Adaira and Leana followed her.
“It looks like a battlefield,” Adaira observed somberly.
“Aye. There’s so much pain and death,” Masie said, feeling their pain.
“We have no’ eaten in days,” Adaira said.
Masie whipped around and glared at her sister. “What are ye saying?”
“We’ll end their suffering, Masie. In return, we’ll be well fed.”
Masie eyed the bodies. “They are suffering.”
Adaira made the first move. Masie watched as her sister’s eyes grew dark with bloodlust. White, sharp fangs extend from her mouth and she took a man by the neck and greedily fed upon him.
Leana did the same, consumed by a feeding frenzy.
This wasn’t the first time they’d stumbled upon a battle. In fact, they preferred to feed on the fatally wounded. Unfortunately, choosing who was going to die always weighed heavy on Masie’s heart.
She walked through the maze of men, pondering who would meet their maker when she heard a loud moan. An unexplainable feeling drove her toward the sound. The misery surrounded her, connecting her with the suffering man. Maiden, Mother, Crone. Was she too late?
“My angel of mercy.” The gut-wrenching words stabbed Masie in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d been called that.
She looked down, horrified by what she saw. He was lying in a pool of blood, his hand outstretched. “My angel,” he wheezed as he struggled to breathe.
Masie kneeled next to him. “Please, conserve yer strength.” Searching his body for the fatal wound, she moved his hands aside. Blood covered his ripped tunic. She found the deep gash. Sorrow shrouded her as she grieved for the loss of his life. A man she didn’t know.
There was so much blood.
She ran her fingers through his sweaty, dark hair trying to provide some comfort.
“Please, mercy,” he struggled to speak.
She brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. “I can end yer suffering.” But what a waste of life. He was a warrior, strong and fearless. Masie imagined he had fought with that strength on the battlefield and deserved an honorable death.
Even through the sweat and blood, she sensed his nobility. Aye, he was important. The gods had blessed him with superior looks—full lips and straight teeth.
Intrigued by her intuition, Masie admired his features more closely. Something shimmery caught her eye. The brooch pinned to his sash confirmed his birthright. Only a laird would wear such a jewel. Her hand trembled as she traced the black bird, well aware who wore the raven crest—her enemy.
Clan Gunn and Clan Keith had feuded for hundreds of years over territory, power, and trading rights. Dornoch and Wickshire land bordered the sea. Whoever ruled the sea, controlled the goods coming in and out of Caithness. Aye, the clans battled furiously and often.
But if he was the laird of Clan Gunn, why wasn’t he wearing armor like the others?
“Please.” The man swallowed hard, biting back the pain. “Angel, show me mercy.”
Show him mercy? Why should she? He was the enemy. How many times did her people beg Clan Gunn for mercy and were denied? She should walk away an
d leave him to suffer, yet she couldn’t. The hatred in her heart was for the queen.
She held his hand, offering comfort. She’d always wondered what the dying saw just before death. Rumors said it was a bright light calling you home. Yet, the rumor was just that. When she died, there was no light, only darkness and despair. Knowing firsthand how that misery felt, she could easily justify killing this man.
She bent down and whispered softly in his ear, “Close yer eyes and I’ll end yer pain.”
Masie tilted his head to the side, taking in his delicate flesh. An animalistic urge to feed flooded her veins and her fangs extended. She inhaled. Goddess, his scent was every bit masculine. Pine, sweat, and blood heightened the urge as she went in for the bite. She paused just before her teeth sank into his flesh. Something within his essence held her back. He had to live. She couldn’t explain it, but she couldn’t kill him. Aye, her heart was too big at times, or mayhap it was something more driving her. Whatever it was, she couldn’t ignore it—she had to save this Highlander.
Masie bit into her wrist and then tilted the man’s head up. “Drink,” she whispered. “Today is no’ yer time to die.”
*
With his Claymore held high, Kerr Gunn charged through the forest after the fleeing bastard. Coward. Even as he stood victorious in battle, he wasn’t going to allow anyone to escape. Nay, he’d lost good men this eve and he’d avenge every last one of them until he drew his last breath.
He slashed his sword forward, slicing the enemy’s back. The coward bellowed in pain and stumbled to the ground. Kerr kicked him over. The man grabbed Kerr’s leg, slashing him with his dirk. Kerr growled. The fool still thought he had a chance.
Nothing pricked his arse more than allowing a rival clan to gain the upper hand. Kerr kicked the man in the ribs and stood over him. “May yer god have pity on yer soul,” he snarled as he thrust his Claymore deep into the bastard’s chest. Blood peppered Kerr’s face. For good measure, or mayhap for pure pleasure, Kerr twisted the blade before he withdrew his weapon.
