Fire on the Island (36 page)

As the warm
blanket of sleep began to slowly cover her again, the voice returned, sharp and
insistent for all its whispering.

Wake
up...Isla, you have to. Wake. Up.

The single
voice became many, hissing in her ears and through her head. They were
accompanied by a dull tugging sensation on what she could only describe as her
brain stem.

Disgruntled and
unwilling to move, she snaked an arm out to Jeremiah's side of the bed, hoping
to rouse him to take care of whatever
problem
had arisen now. Her hand
reached nothing but cold, empty sheets.

Instantly
awake, Isla sat bolt upright in bed, trembling with a feeling of dread that she
couldn't explain.

With dilated
eyes, she searched the recesses of the inky darkness, already knowing she
wouldn’t find Jeremiah, but she had to look. "Jeremiah?" she said in
a small voice. "This isn't funny. Are you here?"

She paused only
for a moment, not really expecting a response. Somehow sensing that this was
the beginning of their battle, she took the time to dress, silently and in the
dark. Packing a few essentials into a backpack, she shouldered it and started
for the door.

She turned the
handle and...nothing. The door wouldn't budge. "What in the bloody
hell?" Trying it again, this time putting some muscle behind it, she
cursed when she got the same result. Not even a quiver from the two inch thick
panel of cedar.

The edges of
panic gripped her as she darted for the north facing picture window on the
adjacent wall. Pulling aside the thick drapes, she paused for a moment to stare
up at the moon. It was enormous and shone bright the color of a finely-aged
Chambord liqueur.

One didn't have
to be a witch to take that as a bad omen. Frantic now, she unlocked the window
and tugged at the lip. Again, nothing. Not even a shiver of the glass or a
creak of the wood.

"'The game
is afoot,'" she murmured. Realizing that this was clearly some plot
related to the battle with Alastore, she thought the Shakespearian quote seemed
rather fitting.

Going back to
the door, she placed both hands on it and surged her power into it. She was met
with such resistance that the energy surged back up her arms and into her body
with a rather painful shock.

"What
magick is this?" she said, repeating her earlier words from the caves.

Rubbing her
arms, she stepped back, utterly confused. She didn't believe that Alastore had
the power to come into her home and manipulate her surroundings. She didn't
really know how she knew that, only she figured if he had been able to, he
would have done so by now.

So who else
would have a power that rivaled her own and would wish to use it to keep her
confined? A feeling of complete betrayal ripped through her as the answer
formed in her mind. "
No!
" she hissed, but she knew it to be
true.

Summoning all
of her physical strength, she pounded on the door with both fists, while
pushing out her power to rattle the whole house. "Let me out!" she
screamed, punctuating each word with a bang on the wood. "You can't keep
me in here! I will eventually find a way around this spell, but we don't have
that kind of time! Marduk!"

She gasped when
the door instantly sprang open, freeing her. Of course. He wouldn't disobey a direct
order. It would be interesting to hear his justification for this one, but
there was no time now.

Bounding down
the hall, she skidded to a stop when she found Marduk in the living room, on
his knees with his head bent, while Drew still slept soundly on the couch.
"Forgive me,
domina
," he said softly, and raised his artic
eyes to her face. She saw great sadness in them, but no remorse.
Forgive me
,
he'd said. Not
I'm sorry
.

It was obvious
to her that he had done this in some misguided attempt to protect her. It was
clear that, while it saddened him to have gone against her, he had thought he
was doing the right thing. She placed a hand over her heart as an inconceivable
thought occurred to her.

"Oh my
God. He put you up to this." It was a statement, not a question, as she
could guess what had happened. Her love would do anything for her not to risk
her life to fight Alastore. But what he hadn't taken into account was the
laqueum
.
If he died, most likely she would follow, either instantly or shortly thereafter.

Isla dropped to
her knees in front of Marduk, gripping his face in her hands. "Marduk,
where is he?"

His eyes
reflected his anguish as he drank in the sight of her, as if it could be the
last time he would ever see her. "He went to the
locus
. I don't
know where it is, but if Leora is to be believed, the way should be clear to
the two of you."

Leaping to her
feet, she dashed to the door and out into the night, trusting that Marduk would
be behind her.

When Isla arrived
at the moonlit field, she gasped at the sight of the stone circle. Somehow this
had been completely masked from her the entire ten years she'd lived on the
island. Seeing the danger in merely striding up to the structure and expecting
to find Alastore simply waiting for her, she chose to skirt the field and
travel around to the western point of it with the jagged edges of the forest to
conceal her from view.

Approaching
from the west, there was no choice but to travel out in the open. She saw the
moonlight reflecting off an object on the ground, some thirty feet away from
the perimeter of the circle.

As she came
nearer, she realized with a start that it was Jeremiah's rucksack. Her heart
pounded wildly as she searched the field for any signs of life. It comforted
her a bit to hear the rustling of the brush as the wolf snaked his way through
the trees, doing some reconnaissance of his own.

Isla knew,
without a shadow of a doubt, that Alastore was using Jeremiah as bait to lure
her into the
locus
, where she would be at her most vulnerable. She knew
just as surely that she was powerless to do anything but walk into the trap.

Cautiously, she
advanced on the stone circle, traveling east. When she approached the perimeter
of the circle, she stuck close to one of the ancient monoliths and peered into
the circle from behind it.

The circle was
lit on the inside by a ring of flames that burned from an unseen source, one in
each of the spaces between the stones. The flickering fires caused moving
shadows to dance in the ghostly pit.

Isla could tell
by the constant internal feedback, and the feeling of pins and needles running
rampant under her skin, that this was indeed the portal to the realm of the
Lochrim
.
Clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of distress, she spotted
Jeremiah off to the side, near the northeast point.

He was lying on
his side with his back to her, so very still, and she noticed a trail of blood
that had trickled out of his ear. Not a good sign. She couldn't tell from that
distance if he were merely unconscious...or worse.

Knowing it was
wrong, but not being able to stop herself, she ran to him, breaching the wall
of the locus and feeling it like little stab wounds all over her body. She had
nearly reached him when Alastore appeared in front of her, without the usual
flurry of explosions and puffs of smoke.

Having to stop
in her tracks to avoid crashing into him, Isla glared at him.

"Hello,
daughter," he crooned, causing her skin to crawl. "Come to join
me?"

With her ebony
curls whipping in the wind, Isla threw her head back and laughed mirthlessly.
"Not a chance, you soul-stealing bastard!"

Alastore's eyes
flashed but he didn't rise to her baiting. "You are the illegitimate
daughter of a human peasant and the
King
of the
auchrim.
Who's
the bastard?"

"I know
exactly who I am and where I came from. And I was born to destroy you."
Launching a surprise offensive, she sent a spiraling ball of flame shooting
toward his chest. He screeched as it singed him, but it didn't seem to do much
damage.

He flew at her
with superhuman speed, bursting apart into mist just before passing completely
through her. She couldn't help but breathe in the mist as it wafted over her,
and she felt him inside her, choking the life out of her.

She fell to her
knees, clawing at her throat in a desperate attempt to breathe. Sending a
concentrated energy wave through her own body, she burned up the particles of
the mist that were strangling her life force.

Not missing a
beat, she leapt up and spun to face him as he rematerialized. She raised her
hands to the sky, murmuring a spell that she heard whispering in the back of
her mind, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mhairi's.

Clouds gathered
instantly and thunder shook the ancient stones. Alastore barely had time to
look up before lightning struck him, hard and fast, knocking him to the ground.
After her storm dissipated, Isla saw him crumpled in a heap on the ground.

Not wasting any
time, she rushed to Jeremiah and rolled him over on his back. Putting her head
to his chest, she could hear his heart beating weakly and his breath rattling
in his chest. She cupped his face with her hand, and his image blurred as tears
filled her eyes. "Jeremiah?
A ghràidh
, please answer me."
There was no response.

Temporarily
blinded by grief, she had made a grave error in turning her back to her enemy.
Alastore surged up behind her and pushed a blast of dark energy towards her
that sent her flying.

Her back
crashed against one of the giant stones, stopping her flight and causing her to
drop to the ground, striking her forehead on a rock. Stars burst behind her
eyes as she landed and then reeled in a sickening lurch.

She didn't
entirely lose consciousness, but she was stunned into momentary paralysis. She
could only watch as Alastore stalked her, charging his power until it radiated
from him in a fearsome aura of blue flame.

Stretching out
a hand toward her, he prepared for the kill shot. Just when she thought he
would have lashed out at her, a streak of grey shot out of the surrounding
darkness and collided with Alastore.

Marduk dug his
sharp fangs into the demon's arm, causing him to shriek in pain. Isla knew it
also channeled the offending energy into his own body, so that Alastore could
not use it to strike at her.

With a sharp
yelp, the wolf's body dropped like a stone, crumpling to the ground at the
demon's feet. Alastore gave it a kick, causing it to roll over next to
Jeremiah's lifeless form.

Isla let out a
keening wail as she saw the two most important people in her life lying on the
ground at the feet of her enemy, casualties of war. She struggled to her feet
as twenty years’ worth of anger and resentment bubbled to the surface.

Hands curled
into claws, she lunged at the source of all her pain. Alastore's eyes widened
in surprise—she was sure he never expected a physical attack from a magickal
being, but she was also a strong, fit, feisty human woman willing to use all of
the weapons in her arsenal.

She raked her
fingernails down his cheeks, carving deep furrows in the skin and causing blood
to flow like a river. When she pulled her hands back, she stared at them,
covered in the blood of evil...the blood of her father.

The moment
distracted her enough for Alastore to launch his own physical attack. Reaching for
her belt, he snagged her twelve-inch hunting knife from its sheath and reared
back to stab her.

He was gunning
to pierce her heart, she knew, but as he plunged the knife home, she turned
slightly and threw out her arms defensively. So instead of the fatal blow he'd
intended, the knife was buried to the hilt in her left shoulder.

Instantly, she
took an internal inventory and knew that, though the knife had missed hitting
any major organs or vessels, it was buried so close to the shoulder joint that
her left arm was rendered immobile. She wouldn't die from the stab unless she
bled to death, but having a broken wing certainly lowered her odds of defeating
the demon.

Too much of her
energy was being diverted to the wound to summon any great power to fight Alastore
with, but she blasted him with a fireball hoping to slow him down to give her
time to think.

She grasped the
hilt of the knife and gritted her teeth as she slowly pulled it out of her.
Pain exploded in her shoulder and her vision dimmed. Once again she had to
struggle to stay conscious.

Looking down at
the weapon that was soaked in her own blood, she watched the rivulets of her
life force trickle down to mingle with her father's blood on her hands.

The blood is
the key.

Out of nowhere,
she remembered Mhairi's words and an idea occurred to her. What if Mhairi
hadn't meant that the figurative
blood
that she shared with her father
was the key to his destruction. What if she meant, literally, the actual blood.

Giving herself
no time to question her plan—there really was none because this was a last
resort—she pretended to double over in pain, sinking to her knees. The demon
wouldn't be able to resist kicking her when she was down.