Blood In Fire (Celtic Elementals Book 2) (36 page)

"I think a drink is in order." He bellowed for Declan, while Heather's hand tightened on the cold stone table. That would work perfectly. If only she could get the poison where it needed to go.

So close.

Aidan woke with the memory of hope burning in his chest.

The way he had felt on that cliff face after Mac had left him. He had pushed away his pain over losing Isleen and concentrated on the idea the sea god had planted in his mind.

As Mac has no doubt intended him to.

It was easy to remember the feral joy he had taken in circling back and slaughtering all three of the vamps Abhartach had tailing him. It had been while he was taking down the last one that Ronan had walked out of those woods…

With Ronan, he had gone back to
Du'n Dreach-Fhoula
and shown Abhartach that with Isleen out of reach it was a very good idea to leave him alone. Or suffer the consequences.

It was only centuries later, when Abhartach had built back up his minions and finally decided to come after him en force, that Aidan had allowed himself to be forced out of Ireland. He had been ready to go at that point. The memories had only become more painful as time went on, and he had long taken his leave of the Fitzpatrick's by then, with what had happened between him and Daire.

Aidan had gone, and with leaving Eire, the memories had finally began to slip away. Becoming blessedly dim and hazy. No more, though. Since he had returned his mind had made him relive almost every bloody step of the godawful journey that had brought him to this point.

He was fucking sick of it. Just sick of it all. That fire of hope was gone now. Long cold ashes. There was no such thing as hope.

Or love. Not for him.

No matter what Heather thought.

As her name sounded in his thoughts, an accompanying flash went through his mind. He tried to shut it out, but it was too strong. A series of feelings thrummed through his psyche, fleeting but perfectly clear. Fear. Resolve. Terror. And the tiniest flutter of hope.

Then Aidan saw where she was.

He shot to his feet even as dread settled its cold feet in his stomach.

"Donna, Heather.
Donna ye do this!"
He screamed the words to the empty room, but Aidan already knew it was too late.

Heather watched as Declan brought a goblet to the table and filled it from a wineskin. He looked at her from under his pale eyelashes. His gaze always made her feel exposed, as she had been when he lifted her from this table. She had faded in and out on consciousness for just a few moments. Her clothes had been hanging by shreds, along with a good deal of her skin. Declan had looked at her this same way then. Like she was a piece of meat he wanted to sink his teeth into.

She shivered at the memory but didn't drop her eyes. Declan only smiled, his tongue touching his thin lips once before he turned away.

"Hold, I have a task for you yet,
mo leanbh.
"

She watched as Abhartach rose from the table, her heart starting to pound as he drew Declan to one side. Both of their backs were to her under the painting of Aidan as he murmured something in the new vampire's ear. Everything seemed to slow down, as if time itself had solidified.

In profile, she could see the vampire king's lips barely moving as her hand slipped into her pocket. She thumbed the stopper out of the tiny vial before she raised her hand quickly above the table. In one smooth movement Heather passed it over Abhartach's cup, draining the contents within it. Her arm was sliding back under the table just as he turned back around.

Thankfully, she was too intent on being careful of the poison to move or startle.

'Not so much as a drop.'
Bav's words hissed in her ear as if the goddess stood right beside her.

With a grace she didn't knew she possessed she worked the dangling stopper back into the bottle while Abhartach settled back in his seat. The door shut again just as his gaze fell on her face.  She tucked the vial into her pocket and meet the demon's eyes.

"What is with all the secrecy?" Her voice was good, just the right blend of appropriate nerves without breaking over into hysteria. Her pulse, though, was pounding. Lights danced at the edge of her vision.

Too much, he'll suspect something. No, she told herself,
no
, he won't. He'll just think you are worried about what he was whispering to that horrid man. It's fine.

Fine.

Abhartach's eyes rested on her, like hot weights sinking into her very soul. He raised his glass, saluted her. Sweat popped out in a slimy film down her spine.

He lifted the drink to his lips.

She took a long, shallow breath.  Something stirred in the black depths of his eyes. Slowly, he set the cup down without looking at it.

Under the table, her fingers started to shake. Abhartach tilted his head, considering her. He looked down at his cup, then at her. He smiled.

"How rude of me. Please…ladies first."

He reached out, offering her the cup. The tiny gems circling the rim winked at her.

Heather took it automatically.

Her heart was no longer racing out of her control, it seemed to have stopped altogether.
Well
, she thought.

Well, well.

Somehow she knew this was a test. He didn't
really
suspect anything, but he had instincts, just like any other dangerous animal, didn't he? Something had triggered one of them. That was all.

Heather was absolutely sure that if she drank, he would, too.

At least if she did it without fear, without hesitating. As Heather had once before in this room she raised her eyes to Aidan's painting and once again his face gave her strength.

It was heavier than she expected and her arm had trembled slightly taking the weight, making the scarlet surface ripple. She could smell the scent of it. It smelled like regular wine, fruity and cloying. For some reason she was more worried now about the possibility of ingesting someone's blood than a lethal poison.

"It is just wine…isn't it?" she asked him.

He laughed as if she had made a hilarious joke. "Is that what ails you? Humans. I forget how weak your stomachs are. Of course, it's only wine. Now drink! I sent my child
for some of my less fortunate family. They will amuse us as they decide who gets to try this potion of yours before the sun sets."

Heather nodded as if she understood his words, though she hadn't.

She felt utterly detached from her movements, as if they were not hers at all.

Her fingers curled around the hammered gold stem of the goblet. Its pebbled surface was almost warm under her fingertips. The surface of the liquid shimmered as she tilted it, the rim pressed against her lips. Something screamed in her head, a voice that sounded remarkably like Aidan's. She smiled as she listened to it for one second, ignoring the panic and fear, hearing only his voice saying her name. She was sorry to cause him pain, but he'd get over it.

He'd see it was better this way. Eventually.

She couldn't go back to her old life, and she couldn't share his. But she
could
make his a little easier.

Heather swallowed. The liquid didn't sting or burn on the way down. It tasted like raspberries with a faint sour tang. As she had known he would, Abhartach immediately took the cup from her nerveless fingers and drained it.

He slammed it back on the table, a grin on his skull-like face. He coughed once. Then again. Shook his head.

Deep inside her Heather felt a spark catch into a flame. It flared hot as Abhartach started to choke, his eyes widening as he tried to get the air to scream. But there was no air.

Everything was burning and she smiled at him through the flames.

Lugh had not been there when Aidan had lunged from the room, but Fand had. The fairy queen had listened to his plea with her head cocked, that dreamy smile playing around her lips the whole time. He had fallen silent out of pure agitation, sure she was not processing a word he was saying.

He had been completely stunned when she simply took his hand and nodded sadly. "I know where this castle is," she whispered. "It's frightful, but I suppose if you must go, you must. But I won't stay. I can't abide unhappiness, I am sorry."

She left him on the cliff face, her big blue eyes sad.

A few seconds later, she reappeared. Hand in hand with…Ronan. He was cut and bruised and bloody. He obviously been climbing all day, trying to get to Heather, to do what Aidan had asked of him. Fand shook her head at them both, her long, blond locks glimmering in the twilight. "I didn't think you should be alone here. It's very scary." She bit her full lips, looking up at the ugly black doors. "But what's inside is worse," she whispered.

For a minute, Ronan and Aidan only looked at each other.

"What did she do, Aidan?"

"I don’t know. But whatever it was, it's done. Open the doors.
Please.
"

Ronan drew the sword and pointed it at the towering black monstrosities. With a creak, they drew apart.

Inside all was chaos, tapestries had been pulled from walls, cracked and splintered picture frames and furniture littered the floors, along with quantities of smashed china that crunched under their feet like gravel.

They made their way through the debris, not looking at each other. The dining hall doors sat crooked and ajar. Aidan raised his hand to push them farther apart but he stopped, his palm an inch from the wood as if he had hit an invisible barrier.

He didn't want to see what was in that room. Heather, her flesh stripped to the bone, the table covered in her blood flashed though his brain. Finally, Ronan reached around him and shoved the doors wide with the point of his sword.

At first, relief flooded him. The table was bare, save for one overturned goblet, empty, lying on its side. Abhartach was in his chair, that twisted hawthorn abomination. His hands were thrown wide, outstretched absurdly as if trying to fly. His throat was clawed bloody, a reddish-black gaping hole.

He was dead.

Abhartach was dead. Aidan realized this should have made more of impression on him, but he couldn't take it in.

"What in the seven hells happened here?" Ronan whispered.

Aidan didn't care what had happened here he just wanted, he needed—

A choked breath whispered through the room. It had come from under the table. As one, Ronan and Aidan grabbed the huge stone monstrosity and tossed it aside, neither flinching at the resulting crash.

Heather was there, curled on her side, pale and shaking. Aidan knelt next to her in the mess and brushed her hair back from her face. Her skin was like ice against his fingers, but that was nothing to the ice that cut through his veins.

Aidan had known there was no hope, from the second he had seen she was here…he had known it. Still, he had to ask.

“What have ye gotten yerself into this time, ye bloody eejit woman?”

She shook her head ever so slightly, her lips curving.

“God, Aidan. Do you ever stop being an ass?”

“No. But you like me and my arse.” He took one of her hands and squeezed it. She tried to return the pressure but her grip had no more weight to it than butterfly's wings.

“Yup, I do. Enough to try and save it. It's damn fine ass, Aidan.”

He tried to smile for her but his mouth wouldn't work. Instead he let his eyes trail to Abhartach so he wouldn't have to look at her dying in front of him.

“What the fuck did ye do to him?”

“Poison.” She whispered it.

“But where in the hell did ye… Oh.”

Bav.

When she left him in Ti'rna N'og last night, she must have gone straight to Heather. He had been stupid not to have seen it, to suspect. Why hadn’t he made sure Heather was safe with Ronan before he left?

But Aidan knew damn well why. She had said those words to him and he had lost his fucking mind. Now, instead of giving her a chance, he’d managed to ensure she had none at all.

He dropped his head, watching his fingers on her wrist. Her pulse was slowing.

“Goddamn it, Heather,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Bav came to me after you left. It was some kind of liquid metal, deadly for him because he was still fae, she said. She thought I could get him to drink it, and I did, Aidan. Only…not so lucky for me, he insisted on sharing first.

"Bav did warn me it could kill me, too, Aidan. She didn’t lie. It was my choice.”

“Oh aye, she has a heart of gold, tha’ one.” He didn’t want to talk or think about the goddess now, not now, but he wanted to keep Heather talking. To hear her voice for awhile longer. “What happened after? This place looks like a damme bomb went off.”

“Ugh, that nasty Declan came up here with a bunch of the others. He's a vampire now, by the way. When they found Abhartach like that, they went nuts. Seems only a few of them were actual loyal to him, imagine that? There was a terrific fight, I could hear…awful things. But Declan…he didn’t leave until just before you came in. He was watching me through the whole thing.” She shivered.

“He didn’t try to hurt ye?” Aidan couldn’t figure out the why of that.

“He was too scared to touch me, he was terrified I’d somehow poison him too.” She winked at him, even though he could see the bright sheen of pain in her eyes. “It wouldn’t have hurt him. Bav told me. Only Abhartach ‘cause he was fae, and me ‘cause I’m a stupid human.”

“Nae, ye’re no’.”

“Yes, I am. It was stupid to tell you…that I love you. It scared you and I’m sorry.”

“Nothing about ye scares me, nobody.” His voice was soft and choked as he stroked her delicate wrist.

Her lips twitched as her eyes closed. “Bullshit.”

She went so still, her head falling to the side as her lips parted. Ronan lurched forward, but Aidan put up a hand. "She's no' gone, no' yet. Just passed out." He dropped Heather's wrist gently, curling her fingers into her palm.

Aidan stood up. "I…fucking Christ, I canna do this." Without a word, he pushed past Ronan, seeking the night, the air, the cold. Anything to escape this agony.

Ronan emerged from the castle only a short time later.

Aidan was sitting on the mossy steps outside the kitchens, looking out over the Reeks. The serrated edges of the landscape were bright and sharp in the moonlight. His face was empty, hollowed out, more desolate than the scenery. He barely resembled the man Ronan had known for almost eleven hundred years.

“Aidan. What the fuck are ye doing out here? Ye can stop this, I know ye can. Nobody can save her but ye. Bav isn't going to come—not for her. Ye know that. She’s
dying.”

“Then she will die. I canna do this, Ronan. I willna.”

“She loves ye, mate.”

“Aye. And I love her. ‘Tis why I canna. Leave me be, Ronan.”

Ronan made a strangled noise. He reached two huge hands toward Aidan as if to shake him, then dropped them helplessly.

He shook his head. "Aye. Aye. 'Tis your choice to make and gods know there is naught I can do to force ye. But I will go sit with her.
Someone
should."

With a hard look, he left Aidan alone in the dark.