Forever Doon

by Carey Corp

  And I also knew the Protector could reopen the portal. But Jamie’s present mood didn’t encourage a discussion on faith. “You should go after our people without me. You know the mountains better than anyone.”

  Jamie gripped my elbow and spun me to face him. “Blast it, Verranica, I canna . . .” His eyes blazed into mine. “I canna let you out of my sight again. I need you by my side!”

  The rain chose that moment to pick up, cascading droplets over our hoods, obscuring my view of his face. The admission that he needed me was not like my fiercely independent, iron-willed prince. Not at all. I stepped closer, until I could see the hard set of his mouth and chin. I reached for his hand, but he stepped back.

  “Let’s go. The sooner we check this out, the sooner we can be on our way.”

  He headed down the trail and I followed, hanging back. Since his return, he hadn’t spoken much, and had said nothing at all about his time as Addie’s prisoner. His easy smiles and quick wit had disappeared, replaced by the stoic, impatient boy I’d first met upon coming to Doon. He’d had his reasons then; being the heir to the throne with his father on death’s door, and me crossing the bridge unexpectedly—the girl who he’d believed his Called mate until I’d begun starring in nightmares that showed me destroying his kingdom.

  But this was different. Almost as if he were stuck in his own head, and every time he tried to get out, memories crowded around, yanking him back. I’d attempted to draw him out by teasing, flirting, even sitting beside him in silence. But nothing had worked. The thought of the suffering he may have endured at the witch’s hands burned in my chest like a festering stew of sorrow, dread, and fury. How he must feel, I couldn’t even imagine. All I knew was that I had to find a way to pull him back from the dark side before he went full-on Anakin.

  A snow-melt stream cut across our path, moving fast. I glanced past floating sticks and debris, but before I could determine an easier place to pass, strong arms swept me up.

  I clung to Jamie’s strong neck and he carried me across in three long strides. “Why is it okay for your boots to get wet and not mine?”

  As he placed me on the ground, his hood shifted back and a corner of his mouth twitched. “Because lasses have delicate feet?”

  I arched a brow. “Was that a joke, Prince MacCrae?”

  “Mayhaps.” A shadow of a smile tilted his lips before his eyes eclipsed and a muscle flexed in his jaw. He jerked his cowl forward, and again set off without me. It wasn’t like him to stalk off and not take my hand or at least gesture for me to proceed him. He’d been raised by a queen, after all.

  Determined to draw him out, I jogged to catch up. “Jamie, what—” But my voice drifted off. We’d reached the clearing that led to the river’s edge. The rain had slowed and I lowered my hood to the sound of water rushing over rock. Ancient yews and oaks stood sentinel, tiny buds sprouting on their limbs. Pearls of vapor rose from the canal like breath on a cold morning.

  But no bridge.

  I ran to the drop-off and peered over the edge, searching through the misty fog for . . . what? My best friend in mountain-climbing gear, scaling the embankment. Kenna and Duncan riding the rapids in a big orange raft. A rainbow bridge connecting Doon to Alloway . . .

  “I know she’s coming. I . . . I feel it . . . in here.” I pounded a fist against my aching chest.

  Warm arms encircled me. “Are ye sure it is no’ wishful thinkin’, love? There isna much I wouldna give to have my brother here with me now.”

  I turned in his arms and clung to him. Maybe the vivid dreams and premonition meant Kenna was trying to get back to us, but she’d been unsuccessful. I brought my right hand up between us and stared at the ruby on my ring for some sign of reaction—a sign that its mate called to it from outside of Doon.

  It gave not so much as a twinkle.

  CHAPTER 24

  Mackenna

  Not so much as a twinkle.”

  I stood in the center of the newly restored Brig o’ Doon, shaking the silver and emerald ring on my hand and hoping for a miracle. One that would get us to Doon, reunite me with my best friend, and confirm that Jamie had been saved. Overcast skies blanketed us with misty rain that coated my bare arms. Little droplets flung in all directions as I shook my hand again.

  Nada. Frustration hitched in my chest as I stared at the stone. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting—it wasn’t like the ring had a supernatural short that could be fixed with a little rigorous jiggling.

  Duncan stood on my right side. Despite the fact that he was close enough to touch, the boy kept his hands to himself—a wise move considering his recent confession. The balance of our small crossing party, Alasdair and Eòran, waited to my left.

  Throughout the afternoon I’d successfully avoided him by staying in my bedroom and skipping meals. But now, as he stood next to me on the bridge, I could feel the distance between us as insurmountable as a fractured portal.

  I looked up and accidentally met his dark scowl. Shifting my gaze to the vicinity of his recently injured bicep, I said, “I told Vee we were coming and to meet us at the bridge.”

  “And you told her that ye were having a Calling?”

  “I tried.” Crossing my arms over my chest against the chill, I continued to speak to his shoulder. “That part got a little muddled.”

  “Never mind,” he stated. “All that matters is that you can open the portal.”

  From his expression—equal parts expectancy, urgency, and frustration—I concluded that was my cue to try again. But I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Each time I’d crossed the Brig o’ Doon, the rings had done their thing, regardless of what I wanted.

  Saying a mental abracadabra, I waved my free hand over the ring. When that did nothing, I mentally recited the lyrics to “Defying Gravity,” which seemed fitting for the circumstances. And finally, I closed my eyes and in true Veronica Welling fashion summoned my inner Jedi to will the ring into action. Apparently, I was not strong in the Force. “It’s not working . . .”

  “Mackenna—try again.”

  Duncan’s stern voice made me want to throat punch him. Making a fist, I thrust my hand out in front of me. “Work, you stupid piece of junk! Open the portal.”

  The mist picked up, but that was the only change. Tears began to fill my eyes. Unwilling to let him see me cry, I stalked away from the others. “Let’s just forget it, okay? We’re never going to make it back.”

  “I beg ta differ, child.” Mrs. Fairshaw’s voice echoed from the riverbank as she and Fiona appeared at the mouth of the bridge. Behind them, barely visible through the mist, stood several hundred people, the Destined newcomers arm in arm with the native Doonians.

  As I stared at all the smiling faces, the emerald in my ring began to flicker. It was just the faintest spark of light, but still it was something. “How did you know to come?”

  From behind me, Alasdair chuckled. “I sent fer reinforcements. I suspected we’d have need o’ them.”

  I swung around to confront the old man. “Why—I mean, what made you think to bring them to the bridge?”

  Alasdair stepped toward me and placed a withered hand on my shoulder. “Lass, don’t ye know that everything happens fer a reason—even when it defies our comprehension? When yon newcomers began ta cross ta Scotland, they each brought a fragment o’ the portal with them. However, they didn’t just appear fer the sake o’ restoring the Brig o’ Doon.

  “Each one possesses a special gift or skill we’ll have need of in the upcoming battle—but alas, their role is even more significant than that. These Destined are Doonians sure as you an’ Queen Veronica. Have ye not wondered at how easily they accepted their Callings?”

  I shook my head. Honestly it hadn’t occurred to me. I’d been too preoccupied with my own drama.

  He raised his brows in mild reproach. “I’ve spoken ta each an’ every one—an’ the one similar thing between them is the feeling that they were meant ta do more with their lives. There’s unity w
hen like-minded beliefs lead ta a shared cause an’ great power in that unity.” He paused. “What I’m tryin’ ta say, lass, is that we’re no’ meant ta do this alone. We need ta help one another—it’s our only hope.”

  With that, he nodded to Caledonia, who reached for her daughter’s hand and then declared in her clear, unwavering brogue, “For Doon!”

  Fiona, in turn, grasped Cheska’s hand. “For Doon.”

  Echoing the words, Cheska took the hand of Ezekiel, who took the hand of his brother, Jerimiah. Both boys said in unison, “For Doon.”

  The pattern continued with each person grasping the hand of the one next to them and pronouncing their allegiance with two simple words: “For Doon.” Like the turning of a switch, my ring glowed a steady green that grew with each declaration.

  When the chain was completed and the final person had spoken their oath, Alasdair grabbed Eòran’s and Duncan’s hands. “Fer Doon,” he uttered.

  Duncan’s severe gaze bore down on me as he threaded his fingers through mine and proclaimed, “For Doon.”

  At last it was my turn. My whole body buzzed with the power of my uncle Cameron’s ring and the power of the restored portal. I thrust my fist in the air. “For Doon!”

  The green glow emanating from my hand turned white. The beam burned though the mist as Alloway and the people on the riverbank disappeared. Instead of the rainy night, it was a clear spring morning. In the distance, the proud turrets of Castle MacCrae stood out against the purple mountains. And at the opposite end of the bridge, with a radiant smile on her face and her arms open wide, stood the true queen of Doon and my best friend in both worlds, to welcome me home.

  CHAPTER 25

  Veronica

  As the glow of our rings faded, Kenna ran the rest of the way across the bridge and smashed into me. I stumbled back until a firm hand stilled my fall. Glancing over Kenna’s shoulder, I saw Jamie lower his hand and then stride toward his brother. Both their eyes liquid, they embraced. Not a one-armed, tight-fisted, back-pounding guy hug, but a full-on, arms-wrapped-around-each-other, rib-cracking squeeze. Overwhelmed with emotion, I stepped back to see Kenna’s face.

  Tears streaked her cheeks and her body shook with sobs. “I didn’t . . . think it was . . . was going to work. We rebuilt the . . . the bridge . . . and the dreams . . . and the people came, just like in Field of Dreams but . . . Duncan, he . . . I don’t. . . .” Her head whipped around to glare at the MacCrae brothers, who had separated but were gripping onto each other’s shoulders, tears freely streaming down Duncan’s face.

  “Shh . . .” I pulled Kenna back into my arms and stroked her hair, concerned that the deep hurt behind the look she’d given Duncan indicated more than a passing annoyance. “You’re home now. You can explain everything later.”

  My own eyes were strangely dry, even as my heart felt full to bursting. I lifted a hand to wave at Eòran, who returned my greeting with a rare smile and a bow. Perhaps my reticence was due to the old man standing at the mouth of the bridge watching us all with tender affection. He looked so . . . proprietary, as if he had a right to stand on Doon’s soil and share our intensely personal moment. He shifted his gaze to meet mine. Keen blue-gray eyes, a roadmap of wrinkles over his weathered face, and his animated countenance brought to mind a scene from long ago . . . a low-beamed ceiling coated with smoke and grime, the bitter taste of ale on my tongue, and the anticipation that my life would never be the same.

  Slowly, I extricated myself from Kenna’s arms.

  The man nodded at me, and I remembered. “This tale is not for the faint of heart, lasses.” The Tam O’Shanter Inn. He’d told us the real story of the Brig o’ Doon at the request of Ally—the pierced and glittery fashionista who’d later transformed into the Witch of Doon before my eyes.

  “What did you do?” I asked Kenna before rushing toward the old man. “You’re not welcome here!” I grabbed his sleeve and began to tug him back toward the mouth of the bridge, which was already fading into a ruin. I’d toss him over the edge if necessary. No way would I allow another traitor into our midst.

  “Lass, I’m no’ who ye think I am.”

  “Don’t call me lass!” I snapped at the old storyteller and raised my chin. “I’m the queen of Doon, and your time here is over.”

  “One way or another,” Jamie threatened as he clutched the old man’s other arm and pressed a short blade into his back.

  Eòran appeared between us and the bridge, his arms crossed over his boulder-like chest, and shook his head emphatically.

  “Get out of my way,” Jamie growled as he rammed a shoulder into my guard. Eòran stumbled back before turning an irate scowl on Jamie and yanking a knife from his belt.

  “Wait, it’s okay!” Kenna shouted as she and Duncan rushed toward us.

  Dark rage flashed across Jamie’s face as he smashed his fist into Eòran’s mouth, snapping the guard’s head back.

  “Whoa!” Duncan rushed in between the two of them, bracing a hand on each of their chests to keep them apart. “I can explain.”

  Kenna stepped up and placed her hands on the old man’s thin shoulders, halting my attempt to drag the betrayer back to the bridge.

  I released his jacket and whirled toward Duncan. “Start talking.”

  After ordering Eòran to stand down, Duncan took Jamie by the arm and turned him to face the old man. “This is Alasdair MacCrae, our kinsman.”

  Jamie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into Alasdair’s face with narrowed eyes. “I dinna care if ye’re the sainted Bruce himself. Why does the queen no’ trust ye?”

  “ ’Tis quite the tale, Jamie,” Duncan said. “We can explain on our way—”

  The old man’s eyes warmed. “So this is yer brother. He’s alive!”

  Jamie pulled back, but his posture remained tense and he turned to me with brows raised in question.

  “It’s not so difficult to explain. I met Alasdair through Ally, who turned out to be the witch in disguise.”

  A muscle in Jamie’s jaw jumped as he turned to Duncan. “Ye’ll explain now.”

  And so they did. A crazy tale about how Alasdair, fearing for his life, had fled across the Brig o’ Doon at the exact moment the Miracle shielded the kingdom. He’d been trapped on the bridge and the Protector had given him a choice—go back to Doon or leave forever. But before young Alasdair could make up his mind, the witch had snatched him into the modern world.

  As Duncan finished speaking, his brows drew together, telling me he had reservations of his own. I would just have to trust he had a good reason for bringing the man with him through the portal.

  “You’re the Suspended man.” Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides as his mouth opened in astonishment.

  Alasdair gave a tight nod, clearly not proud of his legacy. “I’m also the brother to King Angus, makin’ me yer many times removed grandfather.”

  I shook my head. “But how are you still alive?”

  “My life force was linked to the witch, trappin’ me all these many centuries so close to my home and yet never able to return.”

  “Why didn’t you cross during one of the Centennials when the bridge was open?” I asked, still not convinced.

  Jamie answered for him. “Because he couldna enter until the witch did.”

  “A day I ha’ longed for with both hope and fear,” Alasdair replied, almost too low to hear.

  I exchanged a glance with Jamie, and then with Kenna, and we began to walk back toward the path. Blackened trees, arched and broken, littered the landscape where the Eldritch Limbus had scorched the earth as it burned away. We stepped over a narrow fissure in the ground and Duncan helped Alasdair across as Jamie answered the old man’s questions about the destruction. I glanced over my shoulder to see Eòran hanging back, his eyes glued to the back of Jamie’s head, distrust clear on his face.

  Before I could go back and speak to him, soft fingers linked through mine and I turned to smile at my BFF. She looked different, a bit leane
r and harder around the edges. But I had a more pressing question that needed answering. “How did you tell me you were coming? I woke up knowing I needed to meet you at the bridge this morning.”

  “Don’t you remember all of our dreams, silly? Me calling you Wonder Woman during axe-throwing practice?”

  I started and stared at her hard. How had she known about that?

  “The icky supply boat and me warning you that the first floor of the castle was cursed? Our conversation—”

  “By the campfire in our sleepover PJs!” I finished for her, the revelation hitting me like a smack to the face. “We had a Calling?”

  She smiled wide. “Have a Calling. We’re connected in here.” She pointed to her chest.

  And the tears finally came, rushing down my face as ugly sobs racked my chest. I’d felt alone for so many long weeks, grieving for Jamie and my best friend. Resolved to protect our people and be strong on my own. Now they were both here with me.

  Kenna pulled me close and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. We’d been through so much, fought so hard for our happiness, but it still wasn’t over. Kenna let me bawl, her own eyes dry now. That’s how it worked with us; when one of us was weak, the other was strong. A balance I’d never truly appreciated until that moment. The thought gave me hope. Individually we were strong, but together we could do anything. Even take our kingdom back from an evil witch and an army of the undead.

  CHAPTER 26

  Mackenna

  I bolted into Vee’s empty teepee like a hunchback in need of sanctuary. Returning to the Doonian camp had been . . . a lot. Most everyone wanted news of their loved ones, assurances they were alive and well, messages from beyond the Brig o’ Doon—but I didn’t have that much to offer. Yes, we have your child. Yes, your aging mother is well. No, we haven’t seen your brother or your sister.

  Alasdair had immediately been accepted as long-lost royalty and was surprisingly good at passing along news from Alloway. He seemed to personally get to know everyone in the camp and had an endless supply of anecdotes to share. He was also quite skilled at comforting those to whom he could offer no news. Who knew he would be such a godsend?