Read Warrior of the Isles Online
Authors: Debbie Mazzuca
Warrior of the Isles (29 page)
He lifted his sword, drawing the men's attention. “Move in.”
She didn't think he'd heard until he looked down at her, a telling sheen in his eyes. “If he comes to ye again, tell him . . . tell him he has nothin' to apologize fer. And tell him I'll kill every last one of the bastards.”
Chapter 25
Even dying, his brother felt the need to apologize to him. Aidan cursed, his anger magnified with each bone-jarring step he took. He was no better than his father. With his bitter resentment, he'd pushed Lan away. It was as though Aidan himself had placed him in Jarius's hands.
If he hadn't blamed Lan for the debacle with the Lamonts, for every bloody thing that had gone wrong in their lives, Ursula wouldn't have been able to lure him to London with the threat of exposure. Aidan didn't need Lan to tell him he'd gone because of him.
He felt Syrena's presence behind him, running to keep up with him as his strides ate the ground beneath his feet. Christ, he'd done to her what he'd done to his brotherâholding a part of himself back, blaming her for something she had no control over. And now, although he left it unspoken, he forced her to make a choiceâhim or the Fae. She'd willingly played the part, pretending to be something she wasn't. But he'd seen her face when she'd slip and mention her people, her home. The fear she'd make him angry, lose his love, simply because she was Fae.
Aye, he loved her, but he was no longer certain it was enough, at least not for her. Look what damage his hatred of the Fae had done to Lachlan.
“Aidan, I have to speak to you. Please, hold up, it's important,” she panted.
He slowed his pace. “Is it Lan?”
“No.” She took a deep breath before she said, “I . . . I contacted the Fae. I know how you feel about my people, Aidan, but I had to inform them I lost Nuie. They had to be made aware of Jarius's intentions and that he has the Grimoire.” She searched his face as though waiting for him to explode. “Aidan, both Mortal and Fae are in danger.”
It seemed Syrena had made her choice.
“Do ye think they will come?”
“Yes, but I don't know if it will be in time. Aidan, the Grimoire must be destroyed.”
His brow furrowed. “Was that what ye sensed when we arrived at the town house?”
She nodded. “And now without Nuie, I'll have to fight its magick on my own.”
“Nay.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the soft skin of her palm. He'd protect her with his life, even if it meant protecting her from him. “We'll fight it together. Come, Callum and Connor took out the two men manning the guardhouse. The chapel is on the ground floor.”
She groaned. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “Aidan, I'm sorry, I forgot, but when Lanâ”
“What is it?”
“John Henry said there's a passageway from the crypt to the chapel.”
“Doona worry about it. We still have time to use the information to our advantage.” He whistled for his men. Within minutes they were headed for the low, whitewashed building at the back of the castle. The change of plans laid out, he welcomed the heated rush of blood through his limbs, the opportunity to make the bastards pay for what they'd done.
The closer they got to the crypt, the more Syrena stumbled. Aidan tightened his hold on her. “Ye're feelin' its magick, aren't ye?”
Her face a sickly white, she nodded.
Aidan cursed. He couldn't stand by and watch her suffer. “Go back, Syrena, and wait with Bess,” he pleaded.
“No, I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. You need me, Aidan, and so does Lan.” Her words were strained as though it was a fight just to get them out.
“Aye, but he wouldna want ye to suffer because of it and neither do I.”
She didn't seem to hear him. Her mouth worked silently.
“Are ye doin' magick?” he asked, surprised to find he hoped she was.
She grimaced. “No, but if I was certain of its success, I would. I'm praying.”
Aidan didn't think she looked very happy about it. “Prayin' is a good thing,” he murmured as he shoved open the door to the crypt. The dank air enveloped them in its chilly embrace.
He motioned for the men to follow, cautioning them to silence. Syrena whimpered as they went farther into the room. Her fingers pressed to her temples. The last vestiges of his restraint all but stripped away from helplessly watching the agony she endured. His determination to kill Jarius intensified with each strangled breath she took.
Four well-fed rats scurried across the stone floor, taking refuge behind the elaborately carved wooden coffins. Cobwebs hung from curved stone arches, and he batted the sticky gossamer threads away before guiding her beneath them. “Fight it, angel, ye can do it,” he said in an urgent whisper.
Rivulets of water streamed down the thick gray walls from the low ceiling, splashing onto the stone steps. He scooped her into his arms. She was in no condition to make the steep climb on her own.
Halfway up the stairs, the riotous whispers of the men behind him drew his attention. “Someone's comin'.”
Aidan balanced Syrena on his thigh. Tucking her between him and the wall, he lifted his sword.
Through the muted light he saw Dirk round the corner, his eyes widening in fear as he took in the deadly intent of the men that surrounded him. A big hand muffled his terrified squeal. Beaten down by a flurry of fists, he disappeared from Aidan's line of sight. Moments later, Connor triumphantly pushed through the crush with Syrena's sword in hand. “I guess the bastard heard about the secret passageway.” The lad grinned.
“What about the two men that were sent after him?”
Amusement faded from Connor's expression, and he glanced at the blood coating Syrena's sword. He wiped it clean on his trews and shook his head. “No sign of them.”
Aidan cursed beneath his breath then dragged Syrena's hand from her head and wrapped it around her sword. Almost immediately, her breathing eased. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she pressed the golden blade to her chest. “Thank you.”
“Nay, 'twould be Connor's doin', and I'm thinkin' whoever ye were prayin' to.”
She smiled weakly at the lad when he said, “We're even.”
“You can put me down, Aidan. I'll be all right.”
Reluctantly, he did as she asked. He didn't think she was as well as she pretended to be, but he could not carry her and wield a sword at the same time. She touched the gleaming stones on the hilt with shaking fingers. Murmuring something to the sword, she raised it over her head. The blade sizzled, vibrating in the heavy, musty air. It turned a fiery red, illuminating Syrena in its heated glow. From the steps below, he heard the men's exclamations of awe.
“Ye're a wee bit fashed, are ye?” Aidan said as he allowed her to take the lead.
His concern for her well-being grew as he watched her struggle to climb the rest of the way. Her breath came in sharp, shallow gasps the closer they came to the top. He grabbed hold of her arm when she tripped and felt her violent trembling beneath his fingers. “Bloody hell, Syrena, I'll not put ye through this.”
She placed a finger to his lips then climbed the last step to the narrow landing.
From behind the planked door came a low moan and a guttural grunt. “Ride him, Ursula, ride him hard. When he spills his seed in you, I'll slit his throat and you'll absorb hisâ”
Aidan lifted his foot at the same time as Syrena. Together they kicked down the door. The wooden planks splintered and crashed to the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. The air cleared, revealing his brother, naked, chained spread-eagle to a stone altar. Ursula, black satin gown hiked to her waist, straddled him. Her pendulous breasts spilled over the top of her gown, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Lan bucked, then moaned, spending himself inside her.
With his back to them, a man in coarse brown robes chanted. He raised his arm. Moonlight filtering through the stained glass window glinted off the lethal-looking blade he held.
Aidan swung his sword, severing the hand at its wrist. Blood sprayed in a wide arc over Lan and Ursula. The blade clattered to the floor still gripped within a closed fist. Ursula's blue eyes, glazed by drugs and lust, widened.
Aidan's men swarmed in from behind him and he lost sight of Syrena in the crush. The black-robed congregation frozen in place by the bloody tableau quickly roused themselves, and the din in the cavernous room rose to a frenzied pitch.
Lan slowly turned his head and fixed Aidan with a languid stare. “About . . . time,” he slurred.
Aidan had no chance to respond. Jarius, his bloody stump cradled to his chest, raised his wild-eyed gaze to his. Letting out a bloodcurdling howl, the madman grabbed the tall, iron branch of candles at the foot of the stone altar and, ignoring the splash of hot wax, jabbed it at Aidan. Jerking back, Aidan positioned himself protectively in front of Lan. From behind him, Ursula shrieked then wrapped her arms around Aidan's neck, choking the breath from him. With a maniacal smile, her brother came at him again. With one hand Aidan tried to break her hold on his throat while defending himself against Jarius with his sword.
Aidan leaned against the altar and brought his foot up to kick away the flaming candles before Jarius could smash them into his chest. There was a flash of movement then Syrena was at his side. Reaching for Ursula, she broke the woman's death grip on him and dragged her from the altar. Jarius swung the iron branch at him, Aidan ducked and drove his blade up and into Jarius's heart. A wet gurgle rattled in his lungs. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor.
“Jarius!” Ursula screamed, breaking free of Syrena to rush to her brother's side. She swiveled her head and snarled at Aidan. “I'll kill you for this.” As she attempted to lunge for him, Syrena grabbed hold of her.
“Allow me to do the honors, Ursula,” a man rasped from behind him.
Aidan whirled to face the man he knew was Lamont, raising his sword just in time to parry the first blow. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Syrena shove Ursula aside and take up her position in front of Lan. Lamont fought like a man possessed, and Aidan knew he would need to stay focused if he hoped to best him. He'd have to trust Syrena to protect herself and Lachlan.
Their swords locked and Lamont sneered. “I'd hoped to make ye watch yer wife and brother die in front of ye, but it seems like I'll have to kill ye first.”
Aidan forced down his fury at the taunt, focusing instead on backing Lamont to the edge of the dais. Grunting and groaning, they struggled for supremacy, then Aidan broke his sword free and went after him with everything he had.
When they were less than a foot from the stairs, Aidan gripped his hilt with two hands and swung his blade at Lamont. The force of the blow was enough to weaken the other man's hold on his blade and Aidan lunged, throwing Lamont off balance. Lamont's arms windmilled as he tripped backward off the top step of the dais. His sword clattered to the floor and he landed on his back at the base of the platform.
Scrambling quickly to his feet, he backed away. Aidan prowled after him. Ripping off his black cape, Lamont swirled it in Aidan's face then grabbed a man from the crowd and shoved him in front of Aidan to make good his escape. Bloody hell. He pushed the man aside, about to go after Lamont when he heard Syrena's panicked cry.
“Aidan!”
He turned. One of Lamont's men closed in on her while she fought another. Having battled her himself, Aidan could see her strength was waning from fighting the magick. A wry man in black robes jumped in front of him before he could reach her. Cursing, Aidan blocked the smaller man's blade then drew back and slammed his fist into his face. Before the man had even crumpled at his feet, Aidan raced across the dais to the warrior that approached Syrena with murderous intent.
Knowing Syrena was too weak for him to waste time in a fight, Aidan stayed out of the man's line of sight and came up behind him. Wrapping his arm around the warrior's throat, he grabbed him forcibly by the chin and snapped his neck, shoving the dead warrior aside to reach Syrena. The man she fought caught sight of Aidan and took two steps back then turned and ran.
Syrena swayed and Aidan reached out for her, drawing her to him. “Are ye hurt?”
“No . . . it's the Grimoire,” she said weakly, freeing herself from his embrace. “I have to destroy it.”
“I'll help ye.”
“No, you can't. Look after Lan.” She took a steadying breath, her face pale as she took a wobbly step away from him.
Aidan hesitated, torn between seeing to his brother and protecting Syrena. As he tracked her unsteady progress toward the back of the dais, his decision was made.
“Callum.” He motioned to the big man. The fight with the black-robed congregation was over, and he was rounding up prisoners. “I need ye to keep an eye on Lan.”
With a quick nod, Callum signaled for Connor to relieve him of the two men he held by the scruff of their necks.
Aidan turned to follow Syrena then watched in horror as she flew through the air, landing on her back with a bone-jarring thud, cracking her head on the corner of a chair.
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