Forever Doon (6 page)

I turned back to Calum, and tuned into his story. “. . . the pool was crystal clear and surrounded by rocky cliffs covered in lush foliage. Sabastian Demetri had never seen anythin' so lovely. His spirit quickened. He knew everything he'd heard about the magical waters was true. Surely, they could cleanse the soul, drive out evil, and even heal his young sister, Meg.”

Warmth saturated my right side and I realized Ewan had pressed up against me, our arms and thighs aligned. I stiffened, but quickly relaxed into the larger body. Under the circumstances, a brother or a friend would share his body heat, just as Blaz had done.

“As Sabastian bent to gather water inta a glass vessel, a scream caused him to start and drop the tiny vile. Watching it sink through the clear water, he debated whether to retrieve it or investigate the cry. He'd only brought four containers. So he reached into the frigid aqua-blue water up to his elbow. But then the voice cried out again. Followed by harsh, male voices.

“Sabastian jerked his arm from the water, secured his satchel containing the other empty vessels across his chest, and set off around the edge of the glistening pool toward the sound. As he rounded a rocky outcroppin', Sabastian's heart hammered against his ribs. He'd heard the tales of fairies in the pool making mischief with visitors. Lurin' men under the water and holdin' them down until their souls were trapped forever as their playthings.”

Ewan bumped my shoulder with his and I turned to find his auburn brows wiggling. He was eager for me to share his excitement. I smiled and gave him a nod. Calum painted a beautiful story with his words, but I couldn't help imagine Ewan's reaction to watching
Star Wars
or
Jurassic Park
on the big screen. Would he ghost the movements of the actors while picking apart the logic, like Jamie had during his first movie experience when he'd been trapped with me in Indiana? Or would Ewan immerse himself in a new world? I suspected the latter.

Jamie.

The memory that had casually entered my thoughts ripped its way through my consciousness—Jamie's large fingers
wrapped around mine, his other hand digging into the popcorn as the movie began. Jamie leaning forward, jaw tense, elbows braced on his knees during the Ringwraith's pursuit of Arwen. Me, nestled up against him, hearing his heartbeat quicken as Aragorn said good-bye to his elven princess with no hope of a reunion. Then Jamie's golden-brown eyes holding mine.

I bit my lip against the rising sob. Now that I'd unleashed my grief, it was never far from the surface. The gaping loss inside me was eager to swallow me whole. But I'd made a choice—a choice to go on without him, no matter how much it hurt. I let the tears flow, and straightened my spine as leather-clad fingers encased my clenched fist. Silent and reassuring, Ewan held my hand as tears streaked down my face and Calum continued his story.

“. . . Sabastian watched a group of rough lookin' boys gaff and encourage one another as they pushed a young child under the water, her golden hair fannin' out on the surface. Sabastian ordered them to stop and the boys brought the sputtering child out of the water.
‘Tell him, little witch,”
' one of the boys taunted.
‘Tell the good man we're tryin' to drive the demon from your soul!'

“But the girl only cried, choking on her own tears.” Calum paused and met the eyes of everyone in the circle. “Sabastian knew there be evil in the world, but watchin' these wicked boys harm a child, even in the name of witchery, could no' be tolerated. So he rounded the pool, drew his blade, and gave them one last opportunity to release the girl. Several of the boys brandished their own knives and a scuffle ensued. In the chaos, the girl escaped, but not so for Sabastian. The boys were larger and stronger than he'd realized and they eventually disarmed him.”

Lachlan shifted, leaning forward, his narrow shoulders stiff.

“Outnumbered and weaponless, Sabastian was forced into the pool, the icy liquid instantly slowin' his reflexes. As the boys held him down and water flooded his lungs, his last thought was that he'd failed. Failed to collect the enchanted water and take it back to save his sister.”

Calum lifted his mug to his lips, and I wiped away the moisture from my cheeks, waiting for the rest of the story. Every Scottish fable I'd heard in Doon had a silver lining. My eyes shifted around the silent circle and I noticed Gabby had fallen asleep on her brother Luci's shoulder. She had to be one of the oldest members of the new Crew. My respect for the girl grew exponentially. Calum continued in a rumbling whisper, drawing my attention back to the story.

“Sabastian Demetri's murderers fled as his lifeless body floated to the surface of the sparkling pool. The waters didna contain magical properties, so there was no healin' that could keep him from his destiny in heaven. But that was all about to change.”

Calum paused, his eyes widening as he leaned forward. “When the angel lifted Sabastian's soul from his body, he resisted. The angel tightened her hold.
‘Why do ye fash, Sabastian Demetri? You've shown great faith and strength of character. I'm takin' you to paradise.'

“ ‘My sister is dyin'.'
He jerked against the angel's grasp, to no avail.
‘I've failed to save her! I must go back!'

“ ‘Brave Sebastian, young Meg will be healed. And because of your sacrifice, this pool will forevermore contain the properties you sought in it.'
And so it was that the waters of Saint Sabastian's pool became an elixir that has driven out evil and healed all those who seek it with honest integrity.”

Everyone in the circle clapped and Calum crossed an arm in front of his waist to take a mock bow, but something about the tale had caught my attention.

“Why are ye no' clappin', Yer Majesty?” Ewan asked. “Did you no' like the story?”

Since coming to Doon, the lines between fiction and reality had blurred. I'd seen the impossible happen before my eyes over and over. The magic and miracles woven into daily life had forced me to see the world through an entirely different lens. Finding the answer to our dilemma couldn't be that easy, but I had to ask. “Is it possible”—I glanced at Ewan—“that a pool like that could exist in Doon? A blessed place with waters that hold the power to drive out evil?”

Ewan tilted his head and I saw the moment comprehension clicked in his gaze. But then his face fell and he shook he head. “No' that I'm aware. And I know this kingdom just about as well as anyone.”

“We used to have a bit o' Saint Sebastian's elixir.” I spun around to find Fergus standing behind us. “In the royal chapel.”

I dropped Ewan's hand and sprang to my feet, searching my giant friend's face. I felt kind of ridiculous asking about a magic potion from a fairy tale, and part of me wanted to forget I'd even asked. But something deep inside, that might have been intuition, pushed me on. “If it's still there, do you think it would be strong enough to impact Addie's evil?”

“ 'Tis blessed by God, so aye. But—”

Lachlan finished for him. “It's inside the castle.”

“The castle's surrounded by Addie's bewitched guards,” Fergus unnecessarily reminded me.

I shot him a glare and then turned to the boys who were less jaded. If this thing existed, I had to get my hands on it. “There
has to be a way in . . . through the catacombs or the dungeon entrance.”

“She would have all of those entrances well-guarded, lass.” Fergus's face flushed and he clamped his hands behind his back. “I mean . . . um . . . Yer Majesty. And I dinna know for certain the elixir is still there.”

Calum walked over and joined in, his hazel eyes shrewd. “But if it were, it would certainly hold the power to do what you wish.”

Fergus, Calum, Lachlan, and Fabrizio began to debate the probabilities, their voices growing louder as they talked over one another. But I wasn't listening. Hope burned inside my chest, stealing my breath with its intensity. Could the means to defeat the witch have been under our noses all along? It almost seemed too good to be true.

“I know a way.” Ewan, who'd been oddly silent up to this point, spoke with quiet conviction. When his words failed to reach the others, he hopped up onto the log. “I know a way!”

His voice finally cut through the argument, and all our eyes focused on the fearless farm boy whose gaze fizzed with excitement. “It's risky, and probably a long shot, but I can get us into the castle.”

T
ime had lost all meaning. With no way to track the sun, the seconds scraped by with every agonizing throb of my pulse. I focused on the single source of light, a sputtering torch just outside the bars of my cell, and assessed my injuries. At least three fingers on my right hand were fractured, both eyes had swollen to slits, my ribs on the left side pierced my insides with every breath—likely broken again—and the rest of me ached with bone-deep bruises. But worst of all, the brands on my chest and bicep failed to heal, the constant burn a painful reminder of the witch's power over me.

After multiple refusals to cooperate, the witch had me removed from the relative comfort of the antechamber to a freezing cell in the bowels of the castle, where Sean visited frequently but Adelaide did not. A part of me wished to hear the click of her heels on the dusty flagstones. Longed for the respite that only she could provide.

I could not give in to those base instincts, that weakened part of myself that begged for a second of relief. Or the logical
side that reasoned; if only I could give her what she wanted and earn her trust, she would heal my pain and return my strength.
Then
I could defeat her. In truth, there were no circumstances in which I would beg that demon-woman to liberate me.

I pushed up on the vermin-ridden hay pallet with a groan, the clatter of the chains attached to my wrists clanging in my already throbbing skull. Every movement took great effort. I leaned my head back, the icy stones helping to lessen the ache. I despised weakness. Could never understand people who chose the easier, more comfortable path. Now, after only a few days, I was as weak as a child, all of my preparation and training useless.

Carefully, I lifted a hand to the filthy strands of my hair. I'd told Vee that I'd cut it for battle. What a joke. Judging by the severity of Adelaide's supernatural quake, hundreds of Doonians must be dead, hundreds more pledged to serve
Her Evilness
. This wasn't a battle, it was a massacre.

I had to find a way to escape, find the survivors and my queen.

My lips curved and I held tight to the image of Veronica's face. A tilt of her lips, the arch of a dark brow, and my world slipped off its axis. How had I ever doubted the validity of our Calling? The Protector's ultimate gift. Veronica was the sun breaking through my dark sky.

These last torturous days, that light had fed and sustained me, but the night had begun to creep into my heart, stealing my hope. Vee would tell me to get off my arse and find a way out of this prison. Like the great story we had watched in the modern world, Aragorn never gave up, never allowed evil to corrupt his mission. He'd overcome insurmountable odds to reclaim his kingdom and his love.

My eyes opened in narrow slits and I assessed my surroundings. All I had to do was find the herculean strength to
break out of my manacles, pick the lock on my cell door with a piece of straw, sneak past Adelaide's preternaturally enhanced guards, and somehow escape the castle and find the others before the witch could stop me—again.

Laughter, frantic and perhaps a bit deranged, surged up in my throat. When it passed my lips, paralyzing pain shot up the side of my face, black wisps surging into the edges of my vision. Desperate to stay conscious, I yanked my right arm forward, and tugged the chain through the iron rings above my head. The ungodly racket had the desired effect and I blinked back the wee ghosties, while adding broken jaw to my list of injuries.

Drawing a steadying breath, I focused on the single key glinting on a hook nailed into the support beam in the corridor. Its curves glinted in the torchlight, beckoning like a siren to a storm-tossed seaman—promising what it refused to give.

My freedom so close, yet forever out of reach.

I fisted my unbroken hand. There had to be a way. There was always a way.

I glanced around the cell, empty save my makeshift pallet and a rickety bucket for refuse. Mayhap I could disassemble the wooden pail and use one of its nails to pick the lock on my cuffs. The peg would likely be too short to reach the mechanism, but I had to try. Rolling to my hands and knees, I crawled to the reeking vessel, saturated with decades of human filth, and drew back on a gag.

Get out and find Vee.

The simple mantra repeated in my head, and I leaned in, turned the bucket until I found a loosened pin head, and dug my fingernails into the grooves surrounding it. Already crusted with blood, as they were, a little more filth couldn't hurt. If I could unlock my cuffs with the tack, I was confident I could then use the length of my chain to snag the key.

I'd just about wiggled the nail free when I heard footsteps. Long, heavy strides.
MacNally.
I gave the nail one last tug and it came loose. Once removed, it was much larger than I'd imagined, with a sharp, jagged point. Palming the metal, I leaned against the wall and slumped over, pretending to be too weak to hold myself erect.

A metallic click sounded, followed by the squeak of hinges and Sean's shadow loomed over me. “Oh, how the mighty MacCrae has fallen.”

Rough hands grabbed my hair, pain screamed across my scalp, and I saw red as he tugged me to my feet. I forced myself to remain limp, my head lolling to the side as he shoved me up against the wall.

Sean rubbed his hands together in excited anticipation of the beating he was about to administer. Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed hard. The first punch landed in my gut. But Sean had become predictable, and I'd hardened my muscles the second before it landed.

“Oh, think yer smart, do ye? Let's see how ye defend against this.” His fist slammed into my broken ribs and fire engulfed my consciousness. The pain so intense, I couldn't breathe or see. Words escaped my throat as an unbidden plea, “
Squir. Sguir.
”

“Slippin' inta Gaelic now, are we? I must be gettin' somewhere. But I willna be stoppin' this time.” He moved so close I could smell sweat-soaked leather and unbathed skin. His voice lowered to a hiss. “If yer wee queen could see yer weak hide now, she'd toss ye over for a real man. I'll be more than happy to take the position when yer gone.”

Sean's words penetrated the fog clouding my brain and I forced my head to lift and focus on his beet-red face. His eyes danced with bloodlust and something else . . . something like
madness. Alarm skittered down my spine. Had Adelaide's enthrallment finally unhinged his brain? I forced myself to meet Sean's shifting gaze. Perhaps I could pull him back from the edge. We'd known each other all our lives. He despised me, but surely he remembered our long history.

“Sean, you
know
me. Our horses were foaled the same day. I helped ye come up with the name Titus.”

Sean froze. And that's when I saw the glint of metal as he glanced down to the knife in his fist.

“Sean,” I barked, but he didn't look up. “Remember the time we raced across Farmer Tavish's field and tore up his crop? Our fathers almost skinned us alive.”

His gaze jerked to mine, his brows drawing down. “Aye, my father
did
skin me. And you won. You
always
win. Even her. Yer all she talks about. How to break yer will. How to win yer loyalty. As if it's some great prize!” He stepped close and clamped a hand onto my throat, choking off my air. “But you will no' win this time. Let's see her heal you from this.”

As I struggled, Sean's blade sliced into my side, sharp and cold, cutting deep. Instinct took over and I swung with all my strength. My fist connected to flesh and the rusted tip of the nail tucked between my fingers slammed into his temple. His eyes flared wide and he stumbled back. I grabbed him and spun his back to me as I looped a length of chain around his throat. He lurched away, but his momentum only tightened the metal links around his neck. He gagged and dropped to his knees.

White-hot fury pushed out everything but the memory of Sean breaking my bones, laughing as he cut my skin, his fists smashing into me over and over as I stood helpless to stop him. It was time for him to feel the pain. I yanked the blade out of my side, and watched ruby blood splatter the floor. I was probably dying, but I would take MacNally with me. I lowered the knife
to his throat, but froze with the blade pressed against his flesh. Adelaide stood watching through the open door of the cell, her violet eyes caressing me with open hunger and appreciation.

“Do it,” she cooed, those two small words tempting me like nothing else had.

My muscles shuddered as I fought the weeks of buried rage boiling through my veins, urging me to end the man who had caused me unending pain. I'd never experienced true hatred before, but the anger rolling through me felt almost inhuman.

“Do it now.” Her voice shook as her eyes locked on mine. “He hurt you, cruelly and savagely, more than I ever gave him permission to. Kill him, Jamie, so he can never hurt anyone else again.”

Sean jerked away from me, but I yanked the chain hard, forcing his head back against my legs. She was right. He'd harassed and bullied countless innocents for as long as I could remember. Started an uprising against Veronica that led the kingdom into hysteria. Tied me up and made me watch as he forced Vee and Kenna to walk into the deadly Limbus. This had to end.
He
had to end. I couldn't allow someone with a heart so corrupt to exist. With one swift motion, I drew the knife across my tormentor's throat and he slumped forward.

Adelaide stepped closer, her eyes glowing as they swept over me. “You are more worthy than I imagined.”

I removed the chains from Sean's neck and watched him fall to the stone floor, his lifeless eyes wide. Brilliant red leached from the line on his throat, still flowing even after death. I'd killed him.

But I felt nothing. No remorse. No relief that Sean could no longer hurt me or others. No sorrow at taking a human life. Nothing.

Dizzy from blood loss, my head spun and the room tilted.
The witch stepped over Sean's prone body and stopped in front of me, the train of her deep purple gown draping over his face like a shroud. I didn't move as her hands reached up and caressed my face, my jaw, my arms, my chest, my side. Healing me. A reward I didn't deserve.

She moved to unlock my chains, her movements uncovering Sean's sightless gaze, and I couldn't look away. A man I'd known my entire life. A son. A brother. A victim of the evil standing before me.
A citizen of Doon.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Bone-deep cold seeped into the soles of my feet and spread to the tips of my fingers.

Who had I become?