The MacGregor (27 page)

‘What are you looking so happy about?'

Megan looked at Sean, who looked extremely motion sick. Megan tried to feel bad. But failed. She leapt on him and enveloped him in a hug. ‘I'm just feeling good.'

He hugged her hard to him. She allowed herself to melt into his broad chest and breathe him in for a moment. She could feel his oak staff pressed against her back. It made her tingle all over.

Then he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and pushed her away gently. ‘Come, woman, we have work to do.'

Megan thought she'd burst with pride as she took his free hand and walked down the littered road. He was so handsome she could eat him. But she wouldn't.

Bikes roared past and groups of youths loitered, giving them curious stares. A couple of faces she recognised as Douglas' friends. The night suddenly dimmed. If he was there, she'd have to speak to him. It was a conversation she dreaded.

Soon they were in the tunnel and at the door. She knocked and they entered. In the depth and eternal darkness of the old railway yard the party was in full swing. Indeed, Megan wondered if it ever ceased.

Beside her Sean stopped, and Megan remembered that it was all new to him. She could remember the impact that place had had on her the first time. For Sean, it would be pretty epic.

‘Holy crap!'

Megan grinned. Pretty close to her own sentiments, if she recalled accurately. ‘Come on, you can buy me a drink, and we'll go find the ladies.'

They made their way to the nearest bar. It was busy and it took a while. And then Megan spotted Douglas, who was sitting at a small table playing cards with two other leather-clad men. He caught her eye and waved. Megan patted Sean's arm and pointed. Sean nodded and Megan headed over to Douglas.

‘Hi,' she said.

‘Hey, Megan. Good to see you.'

She felt terrible. ‘You may not think so when you hear what I have to say.'

He blinked and he put down his cards. ‘I'm out,' he said.

Megan led him outside and stopped away from the door. It was noisy but there was no escaping that.

Douglas looked at her warily. ‘What is it, Megan?'

‘It's about Dino —'

Douglas jerked back a little as if he'd been stung. ‘What about him, Megan?'

‘He's dead.' She could think of no easy way to put it. ‘I found his body in the mountains. He'd been killed by a vampyre.'

Douglas growled and his ears twitched. His hand snaked out and took a strong hold of Megan's wrist. ‘Who?' he hissed.

‘I don't know.'

Sean loomed over them and his eyes fastened onto Douglas. ‘Let her go.' His words were as soft as a feather but Douglas dropped Megan like she was a fireball.

His eyes were hurt and confused and angry. ‘Shit, sorry Megan.'

She patted his shoulder. ‘So am I, Douglas.' There wasn't anything else to say.

Callum Campbell knew he was mad but he just couldn't keep the hell away. The old bell tower was a safe place for surveillance. He could clearly see the entry to the lycan club and was confident that no one would see him. Or sense him. Unless he pushed his luck. Which — of course — he was now. He should go.

But he didn't move. That fleeting, tantalising sighting had sent him spiralling into helpless longing. A longing that was no better than a mortal's addiction to alcohol.

Still, tonight he could justify his behaviour to a degree. For he had seen him. It had been a long time since his last encounter. He'd tried hard to stay away. He really had.

It was getting cold. The wind was fresh and fat drops of rain dripped sullenly down the old bell. He should leave. Join the hunt, as Cordelia had urged him. And he'd agreed, all the while knowing he was lying. He knew that it was a golden opportunity to pursue his other pleasures. With everyone otherwise engaged, Callum couldn't resist the opportunity. And so here he was. Again.

For a while his mind picked delicately over that last delicious moment. The roar of the bike, whose engine was as familiar a sound as the wind whining through the pines. And the instant that he stopped, one long muscular leg kicking up the bike stand. And then the removal of the helmet and the first sight of that hair. That wonderful, springy mass of red curls that Callum's fingers ached to touch. And he could clearly recall the ecstasy as the man stood, dismounted and stretched his long frame. From his perch Callum had not been able to see the man's face, but it was etched in his memory. The vivid green eyes, the generous mouth and the tender curve where his jaw met the strong neck. Still, from a distance, Callum's eyes had caressed the broad span of leather-clad back and the full globes of bum straining the leather pants. His voice, with its deep, soft Scottish burr, had lifted on the breeze as the man called out to a friend. He was popular, that much was clear.

Even the memory stirred Callum's senses. His body ached all over with frustrated desire. His jeans felt too tight. His Lucifer-forsaken damned life felt too tight! This man was an itch he had to scratch or he would go insane.

But how? Time after time Callum had worried at the dilemma like a dog with a bone. And, like tonight, he came up with nothing. And, to add insult to injury the MacGregor bitch had rolled up with Sean Duncan. Inside his chest Callum's fury raged like forest fire. More than anything he wanted to fly down and suck the life from them. But he couldn't. A promise had been made. And besides, it'd be difficult to explain why he was there, should anyone ask. No, he'd no choice but to let them go. Frustration coiled in his belly like a sack of snakes. It seemed that life was set to thwart him in every direction.

A drop of icy water plopped onto his head. He brushed it off furiously. And suddenly he couldn't bear it any more. What kind of life was this? Why was he loitering like some sort of second-rate spy? He was a Campbell! Vampyre. Royalty.

And then he froze as a lone figure stepped out onto the pavement. Callum knew it was Douglas even before he lit a match and his face flared into view. That lovely face.

But he looked sad. Upset. Agitated. Callum's heart twisted in misery. He looked on, totally frustrated. How he wanted to go to him. To put an arm around the youthful shoulders and give comfort to this man that he loved.

Callum jerked upright in shock.
Love?
How ridiculous. He didn't love him. He just
lusted
after him. Pure unadulterated lust. Which one night would assuage, once and for all.

And then he couldn't help himself. It was as if he'd been programmed. He dropped over the edge of the bell tower and landed softly on his feet. Swiftly and silently he travelled down the dark roads, avoiding the few lamplights and skirting past wary pedestrians. It took him less than a minute to cover the mile.

At the end of the street he stopped. His heart galloping like a racehorse. Part fear. Part anticipation. Stop, said his head. Go, said his heart.

He swallowed the night air. The scent of the man drenched his senses and he walked down the street. The man made no movement except for the glowing end of his cigarette which jiggled rhythmically up and down in his hand.

Callum's eyes did not shift from his target. He knew that Douglas must have seen him. Sensed him. He was just two buildings away when the werewolf finally made his move. He dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath his black boot. And then he stepped out into the road.

Callum stopped. And he stared. He couldn't breathe.

Megan and Sean found the witches camped out near a fire in a grate in the far corner of the underground station. Flames burned orange and blue and cast crazy shadows on the brickwork.

Nancy spotted them and waved. Lydia smiled, to Megan's intense irritation. She had perfect teeth. White and even. Perfect like her nose, Megan thought crossly.

The two witches pulled a couple of milk crates nearer and Megan sat on the one closest to Lydia. No point putting temptation in a man's way. She caught Sean's eye and he smirked and settled himself down. Megan sniffed and ignored him.

Nancy looked around cautiously before she spoke. Her voice was low, barely more than a whisper. Not a problem for Megan, but she could see Sean straining to hear over the deep bass boom of the music. ‘Word has it you have upset the Campbells and they are on the warpath.'

Megan shrugged. ‘Situation normal,' she said.

Nancy glanced at Sean who grinned. ‘It's true. Megan has pissed the clan off big-time.'

Megan's breasts heaved with indignation. ‘
I've
been pissing them off?' She poked his chest. Hard. ‘I'm not the one who nearly throttled them.'

Sean laughed and stroked her cheek. She melted at his touch but covered it up with a snarl. ‘Relax,' he said, ‘I'm just kidding.'

Lydia glanced around. ‘Whatever the cause, I sense that something is afoot. We must move fast.' Her dark eyes slid to the oak staff in Sean's hand. ‘The acorn?' she said softly.

Sean nodded. Both the witches leant forward to see better in the firelight. Megan could sense their awe. Hardly surprising, really. It was wickedly weird.

‘So,' said Nancy. ‘About Sarah's clue. Any ideas?'

Sean nodded. ‘I know where it is. It's the stone circle at Dunadd.'

Lydia was agog. ‘The circle? But how do you know?'

Sean lifted the staff. ‘Much has been revealed.'

The two witches exchanged a knowing look and seemed accepting.

‘So,' said Nancy, ‘now you have your cipher. A tool to channel your power. Next we must unleash it. You must be wed to the land. I don't think we should delay.'

Megan jumped up. But Sean put a hand on her wrist. ‘We've got something we have to do first. Haven't we, Megan?'

‘But Sean,' Megan hissed, ‘we need it to get to Dunadd.'

Sean looked at the witches. ‘Can you give us a lift?'

Lydia nodded. ‘Sure. We'll wait here.'

Megan was furious but could think of no good excuse to delay. Her beautiful bike. No one else could love it like she could. She sighed and followed Sean through the throngs of people and back out to the street.

As she stepped onto the pavement she stopped and looked carefully around.

Sean paused and looked at her. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Vampyre.'

‘Here?'

She turned slowly, senses straining. An alarm exploded in her head. Oh yes. A Campbell, for sure. And then she saw him and fury surged in her chest like red-hot lava. And she was running down the bitumen, her hand up her skirt plucking her knife from its sheath at her thigh.

Of course he sensed her and he turned, his black eyes glittering in his pale face. Megan was uplifted. The blood lust raging through her blood vessels like a bonfire. Here he was, all alone. Just waiting for her. Blood and bone but she was going to carve him into mincemeat.

Two voices called out simultaneously. Sean from behind and someone else. But she dismissed the sounds. They were no more to her than the distant rumble of an engine. With the tunnel vision of the hunter she shot forward like a stone from a slingshot.

And then he was there. In her grasp. Her knife lifted and her wrist thrust towards his black heart.

When a pair of arms locked around her waist she snarled with fury and turned, teeth snapping and knife stabbing.

‘Megan! Stop!'

And then the red rage behind her eyes flickered and she could see a pair of frantic green eyes. And a fluffy head of hair.

She put the knife to his throat. ‘Let me go! What the hell are you doing?'

Douglas dropped her then and she spun on her bare foot to finish what she had started. But he was gone.

Sean reached them seconds later. ‘Are you all right?' he said, staring into Megan's eyes. Her body was slowly morphing. She shook and hair flew in all directions. Her eyes were dilated still and glowed like amber.

‘Yes! I'm all right. But Douglas has lost his mind!'

Sean turned to the young man. The werewolf did look upset but not deranged. ‘What's going on?'

Megan growled in her chest. ‘He let him go!'

Sean knew that this was true. But he didn't have a problem with that. ‘I guess he had his reasons.'

Megan snapped her teeth and flicked her hair out of her furious face. ‘Oh?' She turned on the werewolf. ‘So, do explain, Douglas.'

Douglas rubbed a hand over his face. It was a gesture of age-old weariness. ‘Megan, I'm sorry. But…'

Megan lifted an imperious eyebrow. ‘But? But what?' she spat.

The boy looked up and down the road. ‘I'm tired of it, Megan.'

Sean watched Megan's expression change from irate to incredulous. ‘Tired? You're tired? Douglas, he is vampyre. He is our mortal enemy.'

Douglas looked at her then. ‘So is Morven Smith.'

Sean was transfixed and waited for Megan to respond. She'd told him all about Morven. And Zest.

Megan frowned and shook her head. ‘Morven is a Smith.'

Sean hid a smile. Nice move. But sneaky.

Douglas obviously thought so too. ‘Bullshit, Megan. Morven is a Campbell. Blood and bone.'

Megan shook her head. ‘Morven's not like them. You know that!'

Douglas nodded. ‘No, she's not. But she is living proof that it doesn't have to be…like this.'

Megan was silent. Sean could sense the war that was ebbing and flowing inside her. Centuries of persecution fought with the logic of the young werewolf's words. Slowly she lifted her skirt and slid her knife home. ‘Tell that to Dino,' she said softly. And walked away.

Sean followed, at a respectful distance. That was a big knife. When he caught her up the bike's engine was already throbbing and he slid on his helmet, sat behind her, wedged his staff under his arm and prayed.

They roared down the street on one back wheel leaving a stink of burned rubber in their wake. Megan was still mad it seemed, and she thrashed the bike around the roads with joyless abandon.