The Curse: Touch of Eternity (The Curse series) (32 page)

“You idiots!” she shouted. Her face had contorted into a sneering mask as she pulled out her dagger and came closer to me, step by step. “Of course the witch was right! I am her daughter!”

Cathal shook his head. “You?”

“Yes! Do you want to hear how I know?” She looked her brother in the eye. “Your mother told me when I was ten years old. She said she hated me. She said I was a monster of wickedness and that my real mother was a dirty devil’s bride whom my father had taken whenever he had wanted.”

Nathaira’s anger was now aimed directly at Cathal, who seemed to hardly believe his ears.

For me, though, the pieces of the puzzle were slowly fitting together. The pendant was burning hotter than ever, and I was not going to ignore it. Slowly and inconspicuously, I tried to move closer to the door. Payton also seemed to sense the danger, and he shielded me a little bit more with his body. But Nathaira was no longer paying any attention to us.

“I knew that your mother had told me the truth,” she said. “I could feel Vanora’s power inside me, even if I didn’t inherit any of her abilities. I was but a child, Cathal. Do you understand that? And she told me that she hated me. The only mother I’d ever known. That’s when I knew what I had to do. That’s why I poisoned her. Everyone thought she died of consumption.”

Cathal turned as pale as the white wall behind him, and his whole body shook.

Blair intervened. He grabbed Nathaira and slapped her with all his might.

“Shut up! What has got into you? Do you know what you are saying?”

Nathaira’s cheek turned blazing red where she’d been hit. Her black hair fell into her face; her eyes were full of hatred, and her nostrils flared with every hectic breath. She
looked like an animal in a trap. But if I had expected that Blair’s intervention would silence the woman, I was wrong.

“You,” she now attacked Blair. “You failure!” She shook her hair out of her eyes and pushed him away.

“If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have had any other choice than to play husband to one of those Cameron women. Just like your father had planned on.”

“That is rubbish!” Blair said. “My father wouldn’t ever have wanted an alliance with the Camerons after Kyle’s death. That cold-blooded murder had to be avenged and that is exactly what we did.”

A triumphant expression set itself on Nathaira’s face. She was almost smiling. Slowly, she let her hate-filled eyes wander—first to the giant Alasdair, who looked strangely indifferent, and then to her brother Cathal.

“Brother, don’t think that I don’t love you. For you I gave up Alasdair and would have even married Blair. And the Camerons, well, that was also my gift to you. Without me, that night would never have ended that way.”

The atmosphere in the motel room was getting more and more heated. Blair was darting angry looks at Alasdair; Cathal looked like he might collapse. Sean had stepped up to Blair, seeming ready to jump in to prevent his big brother from doing anything rash. He was also keeping an eye on me.

I had already gotten quite a bit closer to the door. But just one step farther and it would be pretty clear that I was intending to run. Payton let go of my hand and took a stance nearer to his brothers. Being so close to me was probably draining too much of his strength. Without him by my side,
I felt more vulnerable. On the other hand, I could react more quickly on my own.

Cathal shook his head, confused. “Nathaira, sister, what does all this mean?”

“Think for yourself! If Kyle hadn’t died, the McLeans wouldn’t have fought. They would never have taken part in the massacre of the Camerons if they hadn’t had a personal reason to join in. I killed Kyle for you!”

She was standing with her back to the wall, holding her long dagger protectively in front of herself.

Everyone was speechless. The air was crackling, that’s how strong the emotions were in that room. Hundreds of years’ worth of anger, hatred, pain, and triumph—feelings that had not been aroused for centuries—were quickly rising to the surface.

Very slowly, Sean pulled his
sgian dhu
from its sheath. His eyes drilled into the woman he thought he’d known for so long. The charming young man I’d met in Scotland vanished, and in his place now stood a real warrior—a man who had killed before, and who was willing to do so again.

“You rotten bitch! I am going to give you one more chance to explain yourself before I shove the dagger into your heart. Then the world will be rid of one more witch. Remember—you are not invincible now.”

He was gripping the knife so hard his fingers were bloodless. He looked ready to thrust. But Nathaira was not impressed. She let out a gravelly laugh.

“Well then, if you want to hear the whole story, here you are. As you all knew, that brat Kyle followed me. He should have listened better to his brother. Blair had explicitly told him not to come, but he did.” While she was talking,
Nathaira meandered over to Cathal and softly stroked his arm—but her dagger was still held fast in her hand.

“After the conversation with Fingal, it had become clear to me that the McLeans would just support us, not fight with us. Even then, Blair was not man enough to stand up to his father. That worried me. Cathal’s position was not secured. Had we only exchanged words with the Camerons, the attacks would have carried on and he would never have managed to stay in power. That alone would have been enough for me to commit a murder. But with Kyle, I had a very personal motive as well. I hated him! That half child had dared to pick a fight with me. The idiot had called me a dog’s daughter.”

Payton’s breaths were coming in rasps.

“I must admit that I had not planned his death,” she said. “In retrospect, it seems it was fate. Blair sent me, of all people, to encourage his brother to turn back. And inside me everything was boiling at his behavior that afternoon. When Kyle recognized me, he stiffened in his saddle. He was hardly able to greet me. What was the worm thinking? Did he think he could punish me with contempt? Whatever it was, I wanted to rid him of his arrogance. So I slid out of my saddle and grabbed his horse’s reins. He, of course, wouldn’t have that, so he dismounted, too. He tore the leather out of my hands and yelled at me. ‘What do you want? Why aren’t you with the others?’

“I made fun of him. ‘Because they want me to be your nanny. The child is to be put to bed.’

“Kyle wasn’t listening to me, he wanted to get back on his horse again. So I grabbed his plaid. With more strength than I would have expected from him, he grabbed my arm.

“‘Away with you, otherwise you’ll be sorry. Bad enough that a woman should behave like you!’

“I was boiling with anger by then, and his disrespect made me furious. ‘You’re the one to go away! Blair doesn’t need boys when he’s going to battle!’

“But Kyle pushed me, and I fell backward to the ground. He turned his back on me and left me lying in the dirt, that fool! There was nothing else I could do. I got back up, pulled out my dagger, and rammed it right between his shoulders. Right at the first sound of surprise, he was coughing up blood. Slowly, he turned around, would probably have fallen if he had not kept a tight hold on the saddle. When I saw his mouth open in disbelief, I had to laugh. His breath was rattling, blood was running out of his mouth onto his shirt. He tried to reach out for me, hoping for help. I looked deep into his eyes, which had already lost their life, and at last I could see it: his arrogance had disappeared. He sank to the ground, gasping helplessly, and his last breaths sounded almost like a whistle. I stepped up to him, pulled my dagger out of his flesh, and cleansed my weapon on his plaid.

“Once I knew he was dead, I went on my way to tell you about the terrible assault.” She looked from Payton to Blair, and then to Sean. “I was scared you wouldn’t believe me, but my tears were enough to fool you stupid men. That my skirt was almost completely saturated with your brother’s blood was something I could easily blame on the fact that the poor boy had died in my arms, after he had told me that a Cameron trap had taken his life. So, you see, the whole story was logical. And I wasn’t only rid of that child forever, but I could also be sure that you McLeans would really be on our side in the fight.”

Nathaira’s words hung in the air for a long time. Nobody said anything. No one breathed. It was like the air itself was holding everyone prisoner.

I took another small step toward the door, touching the doorknob behind my back. I wanted to get out as soon as possible if all hell were about to break loose. And it was pretty clear that was going to happen. Sean looked like a wild animal ready to attack Nathaira at any moment. Only Alasdair seemed to keep his calm reserve.

He came back to the original topic, without paying any attention to the McLeans. “If you are Vanora’s daughter, then you must know how the curse can be lifted, right?”

“No,” Vanora snapped. “And I have no intention of lifting the curse, anyway. I want everything to stay the way it is.”

“So you wish, just like me, for that mountain of feelings that is crushing you to go away again?” he asked. “That everything could be the way it was a few weeks ago?”

Nathaira’s eyes suddenly met mine, and the hair at the back of my neck stood on end. The world started to spin around me. Everything seemed to be taking place in slow motion. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I recognized the glowing hatred in her green eyes. She raised her dagger. As if from a distance, the men’s cries made their way to my ears. Gaelic mixed together with Payton’s screams.

I hurled myself against the door, turned the doorknob, tripped backward over the doormat, and tumbled onto the stairwell. Payton threw himself in Nathaira’s way, but she dug her blade into his upper arm and pushed him aside.

She was so close. My limbs felt like they were made of lead. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I held my breath, steeling myself for the wound she would inflict. The pendant
burned my skin, hotter than ever. Nathaira raised her dagger, the polished metal gleaming—and stabbed.

Payton grabbed the witch by her hair and tore her back. Her blade missed its destination, cutting my hand instead. Payton wrestled her away from me, but before he could overpower her entirely, she distorted her mouth to produce a joyless laugh and shoved me against the railing.

Her strength knocked the wind out of me, the metal cut into my hips, and I lost my balance. Wildly, I flapped my arms, trying to get a grip somewhere, and toppled over the edge.

The fall!

The memory flooded me:

“Vanora? But what do you want from me? What’s going on? I’m scared!”

Her hand was resting on my head, as if she were blessing me
.

“Face your destiny. Remember those you are a descendant of. Fear not. But beware of the fall.”

This was it, then, I thought. The moment of death. The fourth floor of a cheap motel. Time was relative. I took in everything around me. High up in the sky, a plane was leaving a white trail; way down below, police cars were pulling into the driveway of the motel.

A shrill, bloodcurdling warrior’s yell pierced my consciousness. It sounded awful, but it made my heart sing. Like a steel claw, Payton’s fingers dug into my arm. A hoarse wail left my throat as something inside me tore, and my shoulder made a loud grating sound. The pain made it almost
impossible for me to see. But the film of my fate continued to roll. Nobody could press the pause button.

The desperation in Payton’s eyes was terrible to behold. His jaw muscles stood out from strain of keeping me in his iron grip. Warm blood swelled out of the cut in my hand, drawing a red pattern on Payton’s fingers. I knew there was no way he could hold me much longer. Inch by inch, I sank farther and farther, slipping out of his grasp.

Sean pushed Nathaira to one side, but his knife clattered out of his hand, and he couldn’t stop her from coming at us again. Like living snakes, her hair wound itself around her thin body as she dove toward my arm. Twisting violently onto his side, Payton steered his own body into the dagger’s path. He jerked in pain as Nathaira drove the blade into his flesh.

Suddenly, black clouds drew up, darkening the day. Lightning bolts struck across the sky, and the wind whirled sand and dust through the air. The police car’s light seemed spooky in the sinister twilight. My earlier conversation with Payton thrust itself into my head:

“What can I do to make you trust me again, Sam? I love you and will defend you with my life.”

“I don’t think I will ever be able to trust you. It’s too late for that.”

How could I have doubted him?

Vanora’s face became visible as a ghostly apparition in the sky. Everyone froze, their eyes on her. Like the penetrating sound of the bagpipes across a loch, each of Vanora’s words reached my innermost soul, melted with my blood, and penetrated my heart:

“The power of a curse may never change, but should fate intervene and the destiny be fulfilled, then all powers of nature can combine and free the damned hearts once more. This sacrifice of love and the act of forgiveness are the keys. The devils in your hearts have disappeared and their evil poison no longer is in your blood.