Doon (Doon Novel, A) (28 page)

“And yet ye know her as the witch o’ Doon.” His hard voice sliced through the chaos, quieting the building hysteria.

“No. I mean—I didn’t—”

“Silence! You’re a liar and I dinna want to hear another word.” Jamie snapped the journal shut in front of my face.

“That’s not all, sire!” Gideon’s voice rang over the crowd, two octaves higher than normal. “The devil-haired one killed my men in Muir Lea and yer own brother locked me up to protect her.”

Jamie’s gaze flicked dispassionately to Kenna and Duncan before returning to me. Looking into his stony face, I realized the prince I loved had been replaced by a cold, condemning king. “Fergus, escort Miss Welling and Miss Reid to the dungeon. Bind and gag them if ye have to. Take my lying brother with them.”

Duncan stepped forward, “Jamie, I—”

“Your king commands you to be silent!”

Duncan’s whole body stiffened. Sure that he would protest his brother’s irrational behavior, I watched him expectantly. But the brash prince hung his head, his congenial face transformed by guilt as he allowed himself to be restrained and led away.

Fergus faced me with an apologetic grimace, and I noticed he was holding my arm in his meaty hand. “Come, Miss Veronica.”

“Please wait!” As he led me away, I dug in my heels and twisted back toward the dais. I had to at least try to get through to my Jamie. “You know I would never do anything to harm Doon or its people! You know me.”

“Take the witches away.” Jamie’s emotionless words chilled my soul. His hollow stare passed right though me, as if I no longer mattered. Still holding the journal in his hands, he turned to Gideon. “I’m going to the chapel. See that I’m no’ disturbed.”

Catching a glimpse of Kenna’s terrified face as a guard forced her out of the ballroom, her arms behind her back like some kind of criminal, I set my jaw in determination. I may not have a choice about going to the dungeon, but I wasn’t giving up that easily. Urgently, I whispered, “Fergus, let one of the other guards take me. Follow Jamie and get your hands on that journal. Then get it out of the kingdom, no matter what you have to do!”

The giant’s steps slowed and he stared at me in bewilderment.

“Fergus, if you’ve ever trusted me, trust me now. The journal is cursed. We have to get it out of Doon. That’s what I was trying to do when I caused the blizzard.”

He stopped walking and stared at me for several seconds. His face hardened and I was sure he would refuse. But then he said, “Not sure why, but I’ve always believed in ye, and I’m not goin’ to stop now.”

Tears of relief filled my eyes as he motioned for another guard.

With Kenna and I locked in the dungeon and the bridge opening in less than two hours, Fergus could be our last chance to get the witch’s evil influence out of the kingdom. I hated to think about what would happen if he failed.

Was it too much to ask for another miracle?

T
he more I thought about his actions at the ball, the more convinced I became that something was wrong with Jamie. He was nothing if not logical, and yet he’d jumped to an unjustified conclusion in less than ten seconds. He’d just finished telling me how his mom had taught him to think with the right balance, yet neither his heart nor his head appeared to be in control.

I paced the length of our cell struggling to maintain control and think rationally. I still had hope that Fergus would get the journal from Jamie and get it across the bridge. But just in case, I needed to come up with a plan B.

The echo of footsteps in the corridor caused me to rush to the dungeon door. Fiona hurried toward us, but not fast enough for me. I pushed my face between the bars and called out, “Something’s not right.”

Fiona stopped in front of me, remorse and a trace of my own panic in her eyes. “Something? Try everything. The Brig o’ Doon will be openin’ soon.”

“No, I mean with Jamie.”

“Aye.” Fiona’s soft lilt of reassurance was edged with doubt as she added, “Don’t ye fret, Veronica. Fergus will talk some sense inta him.”

“Fergus has failed.” Fergus’s ragged voice reached us through the void, followed by a scuffle, a moan, and a soft thump. “I didna even get to see him.”

Slumping against the bars, I grasped them for support as I banged my head against the metal. Behind me, Kenna stirred for the first time in over an hour. She’d been uncharacteristically despondent since the guards had locked us up, staring into space as if the slimy stone walls were the last thing she’d ever see.

Fergus emitted a humorless chuckle and continued to address himself in the third person. “So now as second-highest commander of the royal guard, Fergus is committing treason.”

The unmistakable click of the locking mechanism caused me to step back as the heavy iron door creaked open. Duncan rushed in and gathered Kenna into his arms. His disheveled hair stuck out at odd angles, and a purpling bruise darkened his right cheekbone.

Kissing the top of her head, he asked, “Are ye all right, Mackenna?”

Kenna buried her head in his chest, her words muted. “I know how it must look, but we’re innocent. We found out about the witch but we were trying to stop her. You have to believe m—”

“Shhh.” Duncan smoothed her hair. “How many times are ye going to put me through this? Doncha think I know yer innocent?”

“Uh, guys?” Their reunion was touching, but I didn’t have time for romance at the moment. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got to see him. Now.”

With a great sigh, Fergus turned his doleful face toward me. “Jamie’ll not see you, lass. Ye’ll not make it past Gideon’s men any more than I did. They got the jump on me.” His black eye and swollen lip were evidence that he’d given it his best shot.

“I’m not giving up.” There had to be another way. Stiffening my spine, I met each of my friend’s eyes in turn, landing on Kenna’s last. “I’ll go by myself if I have to.”

Ken pulled out of Duncan’s arms. The hardening of her features echoed my own determination. “I’m coming with you.”

Next to me, Fiona squared her shoulders. “Me too.”

Already half a dozen shades of pink, Fergus emitted another grave chuckle. “Seeing how I’m already slated for the dungeon m’self, count me in. Where Fiona goes, I go.” They shared a quick smile that filled me with optimism. They were good people—and good always prevailed … didn’t it?

I turned to the only one of us yet to speak. Other than me, Duncan had the most to lose. If he chose not to go against his sovereign’s orders, I wouldn’t blame him. “Duncan?”

His dark-brown eyes, so like Jamie’s, turned and focused on my best friend. “Aye. I’m in.”

We stepped from the cell into the corridor. To our left, the dungeon guards sprawled lifelessly on the ground. As I stifled my reaction, Kenna gasped. “Are they dead?”

Duncan shook his head “Nay. Just unconscious.”

Of course, the scuffle and moan made sense now. They had to knock out the guards in order to rescue us. It wasn’t just Fergus who’d committed treason, but the king’s own brother. Unfortunately, I had a sinking feeling if we didn’t get to Jamie soon, facing treason charges would be the least of our worries.

Following Duncan’s lead, we crept through the back passages until we arrived at the main corridor to the castle chapel unnoticed. At the entrance, Gideon barred our way, flanked by
a half dozen guards. Although he stood at attention, tremors racked his emaciated body. His visible skin was a patchwork of flakes and sores. “No one is ta disturb the king.” His bluish lips twisted in a sneer aimed at Duncan. “Not even you, m’ laird.”

Duncan squared his linebacker shoulders. “You’ve caused enough mischief for one night, Gideon. Stand down!”

“I’m verra sorry, sire. I canna. I have my orders. And so do my men.”

“Oh, fer Heaven’s sake!” Fergus reared back and delivered a knockout punch to Gideon’s nose.

As the misguided guard crumpled to the ground, his men surged toward us. Half grabbed Fergus, who growled and lashed out, his fists and boots directed at his attackers. The others moved toward Duncan, who held them off with his sword. “Stand down, men! Your prince commands it!”

Indecision, thick and palpable, charged the air, making the guards’ attack disorganized and sluggish. Duncan easily fought two guards at once, and projected his voice over the clang of their swords. “Graham, you know Gideon is not in his right mind. He’s obviously ill.”

The guard I assumed was Graham glanced back at Gideon’s prone form and lowered his sword. His comrade continued to fight until Duncan lowered his weapon and pleaded, “Patrick, I’ve known ye since we were lads. I must speak to my brother. It’s a matter of life and death.”

After several agonizing seconds, Patrick lowered his sword and called for his cohorts to release Fergus. Duncan regarded the men with a steely nod. “Go home to your families. Tha’s an order.”

The resounding “Yes, m’ laird!” filled the tight corridor. Then the guards turned and scattered, their footsteps echoing noisily off the cobbled stones as they ran.

Gideon lay unconscious as rivulets of sweat trickled across his twitching body. Duncan unfastened a key ring from the guard’s belt and rushed the massive chapel door. At my feet, Gideon convulsed, causing his fist to unclench, and with a soft clink the Rings of Aontacht rolled from his hand.

“What’s he doing with the rings?” I asked as Fiona stooped to pick them up.

“I don’t know why I didn’t consider it before. My mum told me that many years ago a servant of the witch used one of the Rings of Aontach to enter Doon. The ring was enspelled with a curse.”

“A curse?” Kenna asked, the last part of her question drowned out by Duncan swearing as he tried various keys in the lock.

Bouncing on my toes in impatience, I heard Fiona reply, “Aye. Wrapped around it—like a parasite and attaching itself to the first Doonian it touched.”

Kenna’s eyes widened. “Could the curse have caused Gideon to kill his own men?”

Fiona’s fair head dipped in terrible confirmation. “Aye. With a spell this strong, ’tis verra likely the witch’s been in control of him. Gideon could’ve done terrible things and no’ had any recollection after the deed was done.”

Her words cut through me like an icy wind, stealing my breath. The journal held a curse and when Jamie touched it he hadn’t been harmed as I feared, but he had changed. For the first time since I’d arrived in Doon, he’d looked through me as if I wasn’t even there.

With a loud creak, Duncan pushed open the chapel door. “Got it!”

I shoved past him while calling Jamie’s name. Halfway down the aisle, I stopped, searching the cavernous space. “I don’t see him.”

Duncan pointed to a closed door off the main altar. “He’d be in the annex.”

I ran. Jamie’d had the journal for hours—plenty of time for him to turn into a possessed monster like Gideon. I slammed my shoulder against the door and shoved the handle, but it didn’t move. “Duncan, do you have a key?”

“Nay, it only locks from the inside.”

I rushed backward and then ran forward, flinging myself against the door with all my strength. But I bounced back, struggling to keep my footing. “It won’t budge.”

“Step back.” Duncan waved me a safe distance away. With the count of three, Duncan and Fergus hit the door together. Their combined strength splintered the wood into kindling.

Impatiently, I shoved my way between them. “Jamie!”

The small room was empty. Fear balled in the pit of my stomach. I whirled around to Kenna, my voice thick in my own ears. “Ken, he’s not here.”

Duncan stepped to one side, allowing Fiona access to the deserted chamber. “What do you make of this?” he asked.

She passed in front of me, her eyes locked straight ahead. Across the small, dim room, Aunt Gracie’s journal sat open on the altar railing. It flickered with a strange violet light. The dancing purple flames reminded me of burning copper, but without the heat. Even from a distance, I could feel the chill emanating from the flame.

Fiona drew in a deep, controlled breath. After a moment, her eyes widened with alarm. She turned toward Kenna and me. “Remember how I said there’s good and bad power beyond our comprehension? This is the worst kind. Verra old—verra potent evil.”

My stomach clenched into a knot. Dreading the answer, I
asked, “If it’s that powerful, does it mean she’s been controlling me? Using me to hurt the kingdom and Jamie in some way?”

A sob hitched in my throat, and rendered me unable to continue. Large, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. Had I been the witch’s pawn all along, just as Jamie’s dreams had predicted?

Gently, Fiona placed her hand on my shoulder. “There’s an energy ta everything, Veronica, and yours is not evil. I kin find no trace of the witch on you. And this spell was only meant for one.”

I sniffed, fighting against my useless tears. “But I brought the journal into Doon.”

“And Doon’s Protector brought ye here … for a purpose. Don’t doubt that now when yer faith is ta be tested.”

Faith? It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in a higher power, but I had never put my faith in anyone besides myself—until coming here.

“I agree with Fiona.” Duncan attempted a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes, before redirecting his comments to his fellow countrywoman. “But what of my brother? What are ye able to discern?”

Fiona’s countenance shone with gentle empathy. “I’m sorry, but I believe the witch has enthralled him.”

Although it was what I’d expected myself, her words were not a theory, but a statement. “Wait! How could you possibly know that?” Fear and confusion made my voice sharp.

Fergus placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Fiona has the gift o’ discernment. She can see beyond the natural realm.”

That explained a lot about my new friend’s propensity for the prophetic. A million questions about her ability swirled in my head, but I pushed them aside. “Fiona, what else can you see?”

Rather than reply, Fiona held up her hand in a gesture I
took to mean
wait
. From around her neck she unclasped a simple golden cross. It dangled from her hand like a rosary as she cautiously stepped toward the journal. With her approach, the diary burned brighter and colder.

Her voice sounded fluid and far away. “This journal is not evil. ’Tis been misused. It belonged to a Keeper—one who’s been called from Doon to protect it from the outside.”

Softly, Kenna said, “But Aunt Gracie was an outsider.”

Fiona raised her hands tentatively over the violet flames. “Aye. But she took Doon inta her heart and made it her home.”

Her eyes closed in concentration and her lips moved noiselessly. In a trancelike state, she continued to share her revelations. “After she died, it fell into the clutches of evil. ’Tis a seeking spell the witch’s working from the other side o’ the bridge. This one’s meant specifically for the king. Once Jamie touched the journal, the witch’s spell was set inta motion.”

Shivers racked my body as I admitted, “I knew it. In my dreams I saw him touch the journal and die. So I kept the book a secret for his protection. Fiona, is he …” my throat closed, but I choked out the last word. “Alive?”

“Aye.”

I grasped the back of the nearest pew as bittersweet relief swept over me. It wasn’t too late. But we still had to save him.

Duncan began to walk the length of the tiny room. He paced like a caged animal whose only wish was to run free. “Where do we find my brother?”

Fiona made a few more silent petitions. “The witch compelled him ta come ta her. He crossed the Brig o’ Doon on horseback as soon as it opened. But—I canna see beyond the bridge.”

Impatient for action, Duncan gripped the hilt of his weapon. “Please, lass. Try.”

With a small nod, Fiona reached toward me. “Will ye help me, please, Veronica?”

“Me?” I squeaked. “What can I do?”

Fiona gravely met my eyes as she reached for my hand. “Ye’ve experienced waking visions of Jamie and dreams regarding our kingdom, have ye not?”

I nodded, the vision of the witch in the king’s chamber flashing in my mind as she placed the gold and ruby ring in my palm. “Ye’ll need this.”

Regardless of the things I’d seen, I was skeptical, but I’d do anything to help Jamie. So I let Fiona lead me toward the flickering light of the journal.

“Dinna be afraid.” The violet flames reflected in Fiona’s eyes, turning them an eerie purple. “Put the ring on and focus with all yer heart on overcoming the witch’s evil—and finding yer true love.”

I slipped on the ring, and squeezed my eyes closed as Fiona raised our joined hands over the burning book. My terror morphed into a living thing breathing down my neck, my thoughts ricocheting between Jamie’s blank stare after he took the journal to Addie’s gloating face to Jamie lying dead at my feet. Clenching my teeth, I squeezed Fiona’s fingers. My pulse accelerated, forcing rapid breaths from my lungs. I would not allow the witch to win.

I lowered my hand and peeked at the burning book; the flames danced before me, taunting me. Nothing had changed. In desperation, I turned to Fiona. “It’s not working! I can’t do this.”