Highland Shift (Highland Destiny: 1) (40 page)

A screen was now propped in front the women, and although Elena could see through, it appeared no one in the room could see in from the other side. No one spared them a glance. The hooded robes prevented Elena from recognizing anyone. Except for one man, standing directly in front of the screen, and wearing street clothes. Gabhran MacLachlan. She vaguely wondered why he didn’t merit a robe.

Voices, chanting, incense. Elena’s drug-addled brain clicked: this was a ceremony of some sort!
Brilliant, eh?
B, B, something with a B. What was important about B? She was supposed to be somewhere for B…. Oh God, am I drooling?

The man presiding over the circle raised his arms and called to the gods, to ask their blessings upon the gathering. Elena recognized him, even though she’d never actually seen him in person. It was Symington; the man Worthington had called Master.

Symington led the group in a responsive chant, one that continued for many minutes before the members all fell silent. Then a robed and hooded person joined Symington at the table. The second man carried a scepter and presented it to Symington, but before handing it over, he turned toward the room and made an announcement. Elena recognized him immediately… it was Worthington.

She focused hard trying to make sense of his words.

“I am making this presentation to the Order of Etarlam,” Worthington said, and he pulled a staff from the folds of his robes. The surprise rippled around the room. “I ask that the Master and you the Council accept this gift of the Scepter of Entitlement, a relic of the Royal Court of the Tuatha Dé Danann. With this Scepter, the Tuatha Dé could bestow immense power to the Druids, and with this Scepter the ungrateful Fae Queen stripped the power from the Druids before she scattered us about the Earth.

“The Tuatha Dé came to our Earth and expected to rule with impunity, and they destroyed the Druid Priests that opposed them. We honor our ancestors. We, who have brought forth their genes through the ages are gathered together this Beltane to enter the epoch of the Druid. The prophecy will be fulfilled, the power of Druids fully restored, and we will wield our power in that which was our way.”

The group responded with shouts and fist pumping. He continued, “When those with power choose our ways, the Scepter of Entitlement will show us whose heart is truly Druid. Tonight we have one who sought us out and has expressed his desire to join us.”

Worthington bowed formally, and appearing completely submissive, he presented his plea. “Council of the Etarlam, please accept this gift of the Scepter, and allow it to test our newest potential apprentice before we begin the ceremony of Beltane.” 

Again the robed figures cheered, the Master nodded, as did several others standing near the front. Symington reached for the Scepter, and the members erupted.

Whatever Liam had done to Elena, it had paralyzed her vocal cords, but some sound must have escaped. She gasped with her effort to call out. Gabhran was directly in front of her now, and he turned his head slightly at the sound she made. He looked at the screen, his eyes sliding unseeingly over the women before he turned back to watch the ceremony. “No,” Elena shouted with her mind. Again, he turned his head slightly in her direction, and she tried the mental shouting again, “Yes!”

It was like some bizarre game of Hot and Cold, trying to get him to look beyond the screen. Elena knew who he was, but she didn’t know if he was a good guy or a bad guy. What she did know was that if she and Lilly were still here at the end of the ceremony, someone would kill them.

Gabhran’s posture changed slightly, and he shifted to the right, which let him look toward the bound women without it being obvious to the others in the room. His attention appeared focused on the leader, but his eyes kept returning to the screen.

Master Symington was lighting candles, calling on fire to light the way. The faceless voices in the room replied, chanting again. Placing the candle in the center of the human circle, Symington returned to the table for stones and placed them around the circle. Someone else brought a large tub of water and placed it near the candle. Symington turned to Worthington and nodded for him to continue. The ceremony was getting ready to start.

Worthington stepped forward and raised his hands. Looking in the direction of the ceiling, he called out and a breeze began to blow through the room, although there were no open windows or doors, and no visible vents. The air seemed to swirl just because Worthington had commanded it so.

In all the pomp of the ceremony, Elena had nearly forgotten about Gabhran, and she looked up to find him staring directly at her. Not at the screen that had been shielding her, but through the screen, directly at Elena, their eyes connected. She silently pleaded, “Help!”

His eyes, took on a faraway look again and he turned back to the ceremony. “
Nooooooo,” Elena thought desperately, but he didn’t turn around again.

Symington was speaking loudly in order to be heard over the wind as it continued to gather strength. He called on the spirits to bless this convocation, to open the assembled minds to the ways of the Order, to bless the leader of the Bresal Etarlam.

“We, the true and rightful heirs to the Druidic nature, have been called together from beyond the borders of Scotia. We knowingly enter into this time of prophecy, call to the spirits of our ancestors, show us the way, summon the intended heirs to come home, turn away our enemies.”

Symington raised the scepter high in the air. “We call on your power to make our Order sacrosanct, to keep those from us who are not the true believers, to bless our council with wisdom!” He finished on a shout over now howling wind.

Symington glanced at Worthington, and his look held a measure of uncertainty as though the increase in the wind was unexpected. Symington was still holding the Scepter in the air when his eyes bulged in their sockets and the wind began to turn dark.

There was no other way to describe it; the wind became visible as black wispy strands began to reach around the room. The tendrils curled, testing, tasting each person before moving on to the next. Elena watched in horror as the darkness encircled Symington in a lover’s caress before tightening around him, constricting until he screamed in agony.
Soon one voice was joined by many, as more members of the council were wrapped in the tentacles of the spell.

Dear God what’s happening?
Elena’s panic found a voice. “Don’t look,” she managed to shout as the tendrils reached lovingly for Gabhran. Elena didn’t know if he heard her or if either he or Lilly could understand what she’d shouted. In truth, she didn’t know if Lilly was even conscious.

The temperature around them plummeted as the icy black tendrils passed over Elena, surrounded her,
caressed her for a moment before moving on. She felt as though she might never be warm again, bile crept up her throat, and she struggled to keep it down. 

Gabhran was yelling, but Elena kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She knew he must be surrounded by the same black ice that had passed over her. She could not
look, she was not going to open her eyes until she was sure the icy black tendrils had gone. Their end of the room began to warm slightly, but the wind was still howling, the black seeking others.

Worthington’s voice boomed over the roar of the wind, reverberating, unnaturally loud, “The ancestors are calling judgment upon us! There are those on the council deemed unworthy. Stand tall, make your heart pure lest you be found lacking in your heart of hearts.”

Someone grabbed Elena roughly and tried to pull her up. Her arms were jerked tight against the ropes and then she dropped hard back against the pole. The rope was pulled tight and then fell as it was sliced away. She heard a muttered, “Shit! Can you walk?”

The screams in the room continued and she was afraid to open her eyes.
Who ever had her shook her so hard her teeth rattled.

“
Goddammit, woman, look at me! We’ve got to get out of here. Your friend is unconscious, so if you want me to bring her along, you have to walk! Can you?”

E
lena managed a feeble nod and took her weight on her own feet moving them experimentally. She thought they might work.
They have to work!

Gabhran let go of Elena and picked Lilly up, before whispering urgent instructions. “Do not look to the center of the room. Keep your eyes on my back or on the wall to your left. I am going to take us back through the door near the front. Keep your head down.”

With that warning, they were off, and he was moving fast. Elena had expected stealth, but he was practically running, Lilly was cradled in front of him, and Elena desperately tried to hang on to his jacket. Her feet were clumsy from the effects of the drug, her body uncoordinated from being tied in one position for so long.

When Gabhran stopped suddenly, Elena crashed into his back, and he grabbed her before she could fall. Shifting Lilly over his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around Elena. Supporting all of Lilly’s weight and most of Elena’s, he dragged the three of them to the door.

People were still screaming, and the icy fingers slid over them once again, bypassing Elena, seeking the man. She felt the cold as it surrounded her would-be savior. He stiffened, his feet jerked practically to a stop, and his grip tightened painfully on her arm.

Elena could not summon a projection to protect him and she still couldn’t properly form words, so she thought loudly and with all her heart and soul.
Fight it.
She used her feeble legs to try to force them forward, shouting with her mind,
fight it, fight it.
Her mouth tried to form the words too, and she whispered, “Fight.”

Gabhran shuddered, shook himself, and propelled them through door, and out of the building. The darkness was within him, fighting for control of his soul, coming with them into the night. The cold air hit Elena like a tonic, slapping her awake, but she still couldn’t completely control her body.

He half dragged, half carried the women, until they reached the street near the front of the restaurant. He was trying to get to the black BMW a few cars away.

Elena thought she might be sick, whether from the drugs, the fear, or the blackness she knew not. Their lives were in Gabhran’s hands, and blackness was in his soul.
God help us all.
He was fighting the black, Elena could feel the struggle within him, but she had no idea which was stronger, his own soul or the black seeking to claim him. He leaned her against the car for balance while he opened the door, to lower Lilly into the back seat.

A sound so unexpected in the middle of Edinburgh reverberated into the night… a feral growl so menacing it brought him to an abrupt stop.

Gabhran grabbed Elena again, trying to push her into the car. Instinctively she pulled back and said, “Wait,” but the word that emerged was unintelligible. Elena tried to turn toward the growl and lost her balance, falling towards Gabhran.

Then everything slowed, time shattered, each event became its own shard of glass, splintering into the night. Lilly slumped against the back seat, still unconscious. Elena fell forward and her sluggish muscles prevented her from catching herself. Blood splattered over Gabhran’s chest. The sound of a shot exploded, echoing off the empty storefronts.

Alone Again, Naturally
. The world’s most depressing song played over and over in her head. Her Grandda used to play that song on the jukebox in his bar. The poor singer, left at the altar, his parents dead, thinking of suicide…all sung to a bizarre, poppy little beat.

Now she understood why her
Grandda would listen to that song, pouring himself shots, and wiping his eyes. His heart had been broken so completely he would never be able to love again. Elena knew how he’d felt. Her heart was broken beyond all possible repair. She’d been back on the farm for nearly three months now and she could never have imagined being so alone. She let her mind drift back, deliberately cloaking herself in pain. It was an exercise in grief that she’d performed every day for the last twelve weeks.

****

“Elena, can you hear me? It’s time to wake up now, Elena.”

Elena had tried to look around, but the tubes restrained her, tubes in her mouth, in her nostrils, in her arms. Dear God, what happened to me?

The doctor was speaking to her, but Elena had panicked, her throat working at trying to expel the invasive tube.

“Elena, stop fighting now. I am going to remove the breathing tube, but you have to stop fighting first. Do you hear me?”

Elena had fought to control her panic, looked the doctor in her eyes, and nodded, as much as she could. Once the breathing tube was removed, Elena had tried to ask questions, but her throat wouldn’t work.

“Don’t try to talk yet. You’re in the hospital. There’s been an accident, but you’re going to be fine now. I’ll talk to you more when you wake up again.” The doctor had nodded to the nurse on the other side of the bed, and he injected something into the IV line. The warm feeling took effect immediately and sleep had become inevitable, despite her desperate need for answers.

The next time she’d woken, she’d been more coherent. Elena had needed to know what happened. She’d found the call button and pressed it, desperately needing to talk to the doctor.

The lovely young doctor had offered her a tissue and held her hand as she told her what had happened. Elena and her husband had been mugged, and both of them had been shot. The bullet had pierced her lung and nicked an artery.