Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) (24 page)

Chloe hiccupped and folded her arms over her thin chest. “I am nae sure ye are. It’s cruel, it is.”

Aidan got to his knees, watching Chloe’s red-rimmed eyes widen as he took her hand.

“Tha' it is, love. Please believe tha' I donna want to go, but I am having no choice. I donna expect ye to forgive me for it. Ye know I love ye, even when ye’re furious with me. I'll be thinking of ye every night, Chloe Elizabeth Fitzpatrick. As I always have. No matter how long I was away before, or how long I will have to be away now, even if it
is
forever. I'll still love ye with all my heart.”

Chloe continued to glare at him, even as she hiccupped and tears dripped down her cheeks. “Nae.”

“Nae what?” Aidan asked, confused.

“Nae your
whole
heart, as ye love Cath and Cait and Colin and Eamon, too. And all the adults, I suppose. And maybe Miss Lacey’s friend, too?”

His devious little angel, pumping him for information while her heart was breaking. Aidan cocked his head, trying to not to smile. “Aye, I suppose ye’re right, a person canna give anyone their
whole
heart, can they? But ye have the biggest piece, Chloe, innit tha' good enough?”

“Nae, it
isn’t.
I wanna ye to stay, too!” She fell into his arms as her words rang down the hallway like shattering glass. She hugged him tight enough to make his ribs protest and then vanished into her room, slamming the door in his face.

Aidan got to his feet, his head bowed.

“Breaking hearts appears to be quite a skill of yours. That was perfect. I almost feel the need to applaud.” Heather’s cutting voice snuck down the hall and stabbed him in the back. He didn't notice how much her voice was shaking, not then. He was too mad.

Aidan straightened, turning slowly, his eyes like ice. “Donna make light of tha'. Do nae ever…”

“Oh, shut up!” Her words were as blazing as his were cold. “So you're just gonna walk out on everyone? Just take off, run away? Were you even planning to say goodbye to me this time around?"

“Heather—“

She didn’t slap him this time, she punched him full in the face. His head rang and his vision went double. “Son of a fucking…!”

“Bitch? Yeah, I am pretty much feeling like one now. But that’s okay, consider it
my
goodbye, you—“

He grabbed her as she was spinning away. Slammed her into the wall next to the library away from Chloe’s ears. He held her there while he straightened his nose with his other hand. It crunched, but he didn’t think it was broken, only somewhat rearranged.

Damme! He didn't understand why she was so angry, even as a miserable pain opened its claws inside him.
She
could go back to her life, her beautiful life in the goddamn sun. She'd think of him once in awhile, sure—the vampire she screwed a couple of time
s—
but soon even that would fade. And that was a good thing, he reminded himself, ignoring how deeply the thought cut.

It was a good thing for them
both.

He forced himself to speak as calmly as he could.

“What the hell is wrong with ye? I was gonna tell ye what was going on, I was gonna say goodbye…”

“Really?” Her gorgeous eyes flared at him and he realized just how goddamn much he'd miss that purple fire. Suddenly, he didn't give a
shit
anymore. He was done with this.

She thought he was heartless, okay. He'd give her fucking heartless.

“Aye,
really.
But I am curious, nobody,” Anger flowed out of him in a black, cold wave, “tha' ye care so very much where I go, or what I do?”

“I don’t!” Bright spots of color were high on her cheeks as she struggled against his hands. “It’s is just common courtesy, you ass. Especially after last time…”

“After the last time I fucked you senseless ye mean? And left ye all alone in Istanbul? Awww, does tha' still hurt? Ye were just a fuck then, nobody. Just a bit of fun tha' ran its course. Same as now. I donna owe you a damme thing!”

He took a step back as her face went white.

Aidan was aware of her shoving him so hard that he banged into the narrow hallway wall opposite, but he didn’t feel any of it.

Heather ran past as he leaned against the wall, staring down at his hands, shocked at what he had just done.

No, she didn’t mean anything to him, she
didn’t
…and yet…

Le do thoil, a rún mo chroí, ní raibh mé chiallaíonn sé.

That had been unnecessarily cruel— even by his standards. Why had he said that? What the hell was wrong with him?

He wasn’t sure how many minutes he stood in the shadowy hall, listening dully to Chloe’s muffled crying and the thready beat of his own dead heart before the scream came.

It ripped through the house like a mortar blast, vibrating the very walls and raising the hair on the back of his neck.

Abruptly, the sound cut off and then came that spidery voice that was carved into his very bones.

Abhartach.

Gods, no.

“Come and see what I've found, dear boy.
Come and see!”

So slowly it felt like he were moving through air made thick as mud, Aidan straightened. Chloe’s door cracked open, but he waved her back inside as he made his way to the living room.

Michael and Shelagh and Daire were sitting there in a surreal tableau, three identical looks of horror on their stricken faces as they turned his way in tandem, but Aidan went straight to the front doors, which already stood open to the night.

Ronan put out an arm as he crossed the threshold, but Aidan shoved him aside. He noted Lacey standing there, too. She was leaning against Moiré as if she couldn't stand on her own two feet, her hand to her mouth as they all stared into the dark. Behind the low, white wall that curved around the edge of the property and seemed to glow in the moonlight, the demon stood.

Abhartach
was a tall, spidery black mass just outside the tree line, with a far smaller, more slender shadow struggling vainly to separate itself from his hold.

Heather, her dark hair wild over a pale face, was obviously beyond terrified. She was kicking and scratching…and biting from the looks of it. It was having no effect, of course. The demon only laughed, letting her wiggle free a step or two, then snatching her back.

Until he saw Aidan in the doorway. Smiling that serrated smile of his, the gleam of it visible even at this distance,
Abhartach
looked directly into Aidan’s eyes. He lifted one enormous hand and slammed it with deliberate force into Heather’s chest. The sound of several ribs cracking popped over the grass as she flew backward weightlessly, like a crumpled-up paper doll.

Lacey screamed, but Aidan didn’t flinch. He seemed to have turned into ice. He watched
Abhartach
bow mockingly before walking over to Heather's still form. The demon fae picked her up and vanished. His voice trailed behind him like a sticky web hanging on the night air.

“Your new toy seems to be broken. If you want it back, you know where to find me.
My son
.”

Twenty minutes later, the rest of the house was still as a tomb. Only in the kitchen was there light and heat. Ronan leaned against the counter, Lacey next to him, white and trembling, as Aidan's voice rang out in furious disbelief.

“Ye canna be serious. I have no choice!"

“We
will
go after her, you eejit! What do ye take me for? But not half-cocked, with ye as a bloody sacrifice. She…gods! I am so sorry, my love—but she is almost surely dead. If not now, then soon.” Ronan didn’t say,
or wishing she was
, but Aidan could see it in his eyes. "We must face tha'."

Lacey stared back and forth at them both, her normally jewel bright eyes dull with shock and grief.

“I doubt tha'.” Aidan said slowly.

“Oh, bloody hell, Aidan!”

“I think he
will
keep her alive. Until I come to him. After tha'—”

“After tha' he will have ye both! And what then, Aidan, will ye finally become the monster he wants ye to be? Will ye let him win after all this time?”

Aidan shrugged, his face drawn. “Who says he hasn’t won already, Ronan? Tha' he won a damme long time ago? I am a monster, ye’re the only one who has ever thought otherwise—”

“That isn’t true.” For the first time since
Abhartach
had disappeared with Heather, Lacey spoke.

She strode across the kitchen, her blue-green eyes rimmed red, but dry now. She looked furious as she poked a small finger into his chest. Hard.

“
Heather
didn’t think you were a monster, did she? She wasn’t afraid of you, even after I told her what you were. What did you do to make her leave this house, Aidan? What the hell did you do?”

“What do ye think? I hurt her.
It’s what I fucking do!”

Ronan made a move to slide between them, but Lacey’s head whipped around and she snarled at him. Actually
snarled.
Ronan put his palms out, lowering his hands, but shot Aidan a warning look.

Lacey turned back to Aidan, her voice icy, but calm. “And now she’s hurting a lot more, isn’t she?”

Aidan looked her dead in the eye, wanting her to understand, to really understand. “More than ye can ever imagine.”

“Will he stop hurting her if you do what he wants?”

He resisted the urge to lie. “I doubt he will stop entirely, but for the most part— yes.”
Probably.

“Will he let her go?”

“Nae,” he said, his tone final. “Never. He made tha' mistake once…. He’ll no’ do it again.”

Aidan watched her sway, his heart aching but his face impassive. Ronan moved behind her, big and silent, not saying a word, just standing there, so Lacey could lean back into him as she closed her eyes for a moment.

“Then Ronan is right, you
can’t
just go there blindly. I won't lose you both." Her lips trembled, but her voice was determined. "We have to make a plan, to figure out a way, a way you can get in and out. There had to be a way for
both
of you to get out, Aidan.”

She knew him well already, Aidan realized. This complex little woman of Ronan's, but she was clueless as to what they were dealing with here.

“Even if we can dream up such a miracle, which I doubt, tha' may take days! Do ye nae realize what she is gonna through right bloody—“

“Stop talking about it and start
doing
something about it!”

The slap wasn’t surprising, though the power of it was a little. He should’ve known better. This tiny woman had once held a sword to his throat without batting an eye.

Aidan moved his jaw experimentally, staring down at her. “Ye pack a fair wallop, but Heather hits a lot harder than ye.”

Tears glistened in her eyes again, but she dashed them away with the back of her hand. “I know. Don’t forget that, she’ll fight every second. It’s who she is.”

Aidan tried to give Lacey a reassuring smile, but his lips felt numb. That’s exactly what he was afraid of.

Abhartach
dearly loved a fighter.

She didn’t know where she was.

Green and grey. Black and silver.

Mist and forest and sky and moon flashed past in broken bits and pieces. Heather wasn’t sure if they were flying or falling or simply moving so fast her mind couldn’t comprehend it.

The monster had her tucked against his side. She could smell his flinty breath, strangely hot, even though his body was ice cold. Every breath she took sliced through her chest like her lungs were filled with razorblades. Tears dripped from her eyes and froze on her cheeks.

He didn't say anything to her.

It could have been moments or hours later, she was sure she had passed out more than once, but the next time she opened her eyes mountains were everywhere. Great hulking ones that sliced into the sky. The pain grabbed her again and the harsh landscape winked out.

"Here we are," the demon found his voice she didn't know how long later.

He lifted her head up by the hair, forcing her to look. A castle had appeared, like a black wound in the side of one sheer peak. "I do
so
hope you'll enjoy your stay here. I know I will."

The sound of mocking laughter flickered in and out, like her consciousness.

When everything steadied again, they were in the castle.

She was in a huge space more like a cavern than a room. It was stark and cold, but there were pictures on the wall, tapestries, paintings…Aidan? She tried to focus but the figure blurred.

A sharp slap to the face cleared her vision and the creature smiled at her.

"Do you like my taste in art? I had it commissioned ages ago, when he was still human. What do you think?"

Heather forced herself to focus on the painting, staring into Aidan's eyes, eyes of canvas, oil and pigment that seemed to look back at her with an empty hopelessness. She turned away.

"I can't say I am a fan. I'd rather have the real thing."

The creature, Abhartach
,
laughed delightedly. "I quite agree, human, but all in due time. We two, however, will get started immediately. I can't be sure when Aidan will arrive, so we
must
make sure you are presentable first.”

From the evil glint in the demon’s eyes, 'presentable' had some hidden meaning. One that she was very sure involved a great deal of suffering on her part.

Her captor clapped his hands and two figures appeared instantly.

“Bind her to the table. Then leave us. There will be screaming. Ignore it.”

Heather swallowed hard.

Her skin went clammy and her heart started to race.
I will not freak out, I will not.
But when the two pale humans silently started to untangle heavy chains from under the table, chains that obviously fastened on the underside and had been used many times before, her insides went watery.

They placed her on the stone as if she were a weightless child. Leaving her clothes intact, they spread her arms wide apart, winching them down tightly enough to make her cry out as her broken ribs protested. Her legs they bound together at the ankles. This gave her some small hope that whatever plans this demon had for her, they did not, at least for now, include rape.

“I am only to be disturbed when the prince arrives. If anyone so much as breathes against that door before then, they will be killed, and
slowly.
Understand?" There were twin nods as the two figures backed to the wide doors and out. The sound of a bar falling thunked through the room. Aberhatach was looking at the painting again, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought.

"I don't think he is going to be happy when he sees you again, not after what I am going to do to you.

"But I believe he needs to see you as you truly are." He turned back to her and Heather's throat slicked with ice when she saw the knife in his hand. She knew the question was expected, so she forced it out, more to delay the inevitable than anything else.

"And what am I?"

"What all humans are.
Prey.
Walking skins full of blood. You are only a bag of blood with an especially pretty covering." The demon leaned down, his hot, stinking breath at her ear. He twirled the knife until it caught the firelight and glittered as he lowered it slowly.

“I can change that.”

You hear of torture, she thought, an hour and a lifetime later. You read about it sometimes in books or newspapers, maybe see a story about it on the late night news.

Torture.

What does that mean if you have never experienced it? It’s just a word without depth, a nightmare in someone else's head. A scary story that means little, except maybe a shivery burst of fear and a sick feeling in your stomach. Something easily set aside and dismissed as you go about your day.

The experience itself was somewhat…

Different.

The first cut was not so bad. He traced a line down her arm, thin and scoring.  The blood beaded up, scarlet against her smooth olive skin. The pain was bright, but negligible. Far worse was the moment when he lifted her limb to his mouth and licked over the wound he had made.

Inch by cold inch, his tongue so dark a red it was almost black. Shiny and obscene like a fat leech, his tongue lapped up her blood. She tried not to react, to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch was a far worse violation than the knife. In the end though, she couldn't help it.

She shuddered and the demon smiled.

He was methodical… and then he wasn’t. Cut after cut, slice after slice. You could almost get used to the slash, burn, slash, burn rhythm of it when he kept the wounds shallow. But then he would startle her by making a deep, scorching furrow that would have her straining against the chains helplessly.

She started crying by the tenth cut or so, not making a sound, but crying nevertheless.

He sliced through her clothes, tearing them off as they became ragged and soaked with blood. He worked on her arms first, opening long cuts from shoulder to elbow, then wrist to elbow. Then deeper, crueler ones circling her wrists and forearms. Bracelets of fire that burned hot against the cold stone. But it wasn't until he started in on her torso that Heather began to scream.

A long while later, maybe an hour, maybe several, Abhartach straightened from the table. Heather's breath was thready and fast. She twitched as he moved away, her skin sticking to the stone as she moved, wet with blood.

"A breather, I think."

He said it like a man tired of a slightly boring play. Going to the door, he called out. A word she couldn't understand. The room swirled around Heather as she moved her head to keep him in sight. Everything was tinged with iron grey and red, her vision, the taste in her throat…

The agony that sank deeper into her bones with every beat of her failing heart.

“Ready for more yet? It's rather disappointing he hasn’t arrived to 'save' you yet. Perhaps I misjudged your relationship after all.” A man stood beside the beast now, a human man, she thought, with white curls and a smile that sent ice into the inferno of her suffering. Who was this?

“Of course you did." She spat the words out, desperate to stall him just a little longer. "Aidan and I don’t know each other, not really. There’s nothing between us. Nothing…lasting.”

Her fingers scrabbled at the stone as he lowered the knife once more, drawing a thin line up the inside of her thigh almost absently as he watched the man next to him. A man who licked his lips as the demon cut her again. Another shallow one, but bite of the blade made her choke on sour tears as it crossed the others.

“Maybe not
yet
, true enough. I think the possibility is there, though. A possibility that wasn’t there before. Aidan knows it, I saw it in him tonight. Bah…even if he didn't care for you at all, he will not be able to help himself from playing the protector.

"It’s what he is, see? What he’s always been.” He smiled down at her, using the tip of one callused finger to wipe her streaming eyes gently.

Her body tried to move away from his touch, but there was nowhere to go.

Her bonds held her fast to the cold stone as he sliced. Deeply here, lightly there. Making her scream and sob and twist as her own blood began to pool under her, warming and slicking the stone. Abhartach paused at one point to cup some in his hand, taking a sip as he watched her writhe on the table, then offering his hand to the white-haired man who sucked the blood from the vampire's fingers as if it were honey.

Heather was beginning to lose herself to the pain, it was conquering her. Swallowing her whole in a way she'd never imagined was possible. Her ribs ached as she took several shuddering breaths. From her neck down, all was agony, blinding, white-hot and merciless. She needed to make him stop, if only for a moment. Her eyes flickered to the portrait of Aidan and she took a breath.