Highlander Hunted: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 8)

by Rebecca Preston

  Brendan was right behind her, but she took the first steps into the cave. It was pitch dark, as she'd expected, and she missed her little handheld torch fiercely as she waited in vain for her eyes to adjust. This initial chamber was nice and roomy, as she'd remembered from her explorations back in the twenty-first century, and soon Brendan joined her in there with all of the men alongside him, their expressions grim in the flickering torchlight.

  "Right," she said softly. "Let's start searching."

  She took the wooden torch in her hand, holding it high as she moved cautiously toward the next chamber. Sure enough, it was just as she remembered from the twenty-first century — she even found the same rock that had shifted and left her trapped in the cave. Biting her lip, she glanced back at the men, warning them to steer well clear of it. The thought of getting trapped in here again was not appealing… especially with a monster lurking out there in the dark, waiting for them.

  Slowly, they began to fan out through the cave. She worked methodically and carefully, mentally mapping the cave system as she went, relying on her experience to keep track of when they were rising and falling, how many caves were in each area. She followed the wall to her left, ensuring that they explored every dead end and every passageway. The dark was oppressive, but it wasn't long before she was used to it — the gentle footsteps of the men behind her, the scraping of their boots against the sandstone floor. It was easy to forget that it was night time outside… down here, it was eternally night time. Once or twice, they moved past slightly lighter patches, which she recognized as other entrances to the cave system. Which one did the Black Annis use, she wondered? Or did it vary its approach? After all, she was beginning to suspect that the creature itself had been responsible for building the whole system, carving it out with its claws. Maybe that was why it didn't seem like a natural cave formation — there was something about the way it had been made that wasn't quite in keeping with the sandstone caves she'd explored before in her spelunking career.

  "Helena?" A low voice, surprising in the quiet. She turned back, and one of the guards was pointing across the cave they were in at a pile of rocks. She lifted her torch high, crossing to examine it with a frown on her face… then she saw what the guard had seen. Or more to the point — she felt it. A cool breeze, indicating a passageway… she gently shoved on one of the rocks, and her eyes widened as it slid easily away, revealing a passageway stretching down into the rock.

  "Did any of you go down here?" she asked in a low voice, looking to the men who'd been in the system before. One by one, they shook their heads, their faces grim in the flickering light of the torch in her hand. She nodded, knowing that this was where they needed to go — sensing, on some level, that they were getting closer and closer to the lair of the Black Annis. She could see claw marks on the rock, slight gouges dug out of its surface, as though the Annis had moved it back and forth countless times… was this how it kept its captives from escaping? They were deep in the caves now, at least a few hundred paces in from the entrance they'd entered through, and she suspected they were much deeper in the earth, too. This must be getting toward the deepest part of the cave… it would make sense for the Black Annis to have her innermost lair here.

  "You ready?" she whispered to Brendan, who was standing by her side. He reached out to squeeze her upper arm in his grip, firm and comforting, and he gave her a smile that filled her heart with warmth and courage. She had to do this. If she and Brendan were going to have a future together, first she had to deal with this monster — this hangover from Brendan and Brigid's past. This grief stricken woman, transformed into something horrible.

  She had to help her, she told herself firmly. And if helping her meant killing her… they'd have to consider that option, too. So with a deep breath, she headed down the newly revealed passageway.

  Deeper and deeper she traveled. Brendan was right behind her, but she couldn't turn around in the narrow passage, so it felt like she was alone. She gritted her teeth as the passageway continued, deeper and deeper — she was beginning to worry that all six of them wouldn't be able to get back out again once they reached the bottom. So she passed a message along the line back to the guards, telling them to head out, to wait at the top of this passageway, ready to carry the children out if need be. One by one, she heard them relay the message, and though they didn't sound thrilled about having to turn back, they did turn back. Then it was just her and Brendan, heading down the slope together… ready for whatever lay at the end.

  She was a little surprised when she finally reached the end of the passageway, stepping into a cavernous hollow at the bottom. It was enormous — she realized she could stand all the way up and enjoyed the momentary relief of stretching her back as she lifted the torch high, looking around the rather large cavern. Sure enough, it was maybe the size of the entrance hall of the castle, and the walls were covered in the familiar scraping pattern that suggested that the Black Annis herself had carved it out with her talons. The roof was higher than she could make out — besides, she wasn't interested in looking up. Because her attention was fully occupied by what was on the ground, crunching gently beneath her boots as she took a few horrified steps into the space…

  "Are these bones?" Brendan whispered, his voice sounding gently horrified. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, lowering the torch to examine the thin carpet of tiny white bones that littered the floor of the cavern. There was a sour smell like rotting meat in the air, and she wrinkled her nose, wondering how many still-decaying corpses there were in the corners, ready to contribute to this collection of bones. At least they were only animal bones, she thought with a shiver. It seemed the Black Annis didn't limit herself just to baby lambs — there were all kinds of animal skeletons here, from rodents to larger creatures — including what looked like an entire skeletal calf. They picked their way carefully through the cavern, gazing around them — she could see Brendan was putting on a brave face, but he didn't like the claustrophobic surroundings any more than she did.

  "This place is enormous," he muttered, quietly — she liked hearing the sound of his voice, but she was worried about making too much sound and alerting the creature to their presence, so she didn't reply. They kept moving across the floor, scanning the bones for any sign of more lively captives. There was an unsettling mount of random cloth scattered across the ground — some of it looked like the skins of the various animals whose skeletons they were stepping on, but some of it looked eerily like human clothing. Could the Black Annis have claimed victims before the children she'd stolen?

  "How long ago did you say Anne went missing?" she whispered, frowning a little.

  "It's been six years since Brigid died," Brendan whispered back, matching her tone. "So — about five years, give or take."

  She shivered at the implications. Had this creature really been living down here for five years, all by itself? She pictured the monster carving out the cave with its talons, amassing this enormous collection of bones as it caught rats and other vermin… before finally its hunger drove it out, out onto the moors to catch lambs and bigger prey… she kept looking at the bones, almost obsessively, terrified that she was going to stumble across something that she couldn't dismiss as belonging to an animal… something big, with a skull with eye sockets and teeth and —

  "There," Brendan whispered suddenly, startling her into a soft scream that she stifled with one hand. She followed the direction he was pointing and saw what he'd seen straight away — a strange shape, looming in the darkness, not at all in keeping with the bones around it. They crept closer, Helena's heart pounding — she hardly dared to breathe, so desperate was she for the shape to be what she thought it was… and then relief burst in her chest like a firework. It was a huge cage, poorly constructed and shabby — but a cage, nevertheless. And in it were three little shapes, hunkered close together in the cold air.

  "Jamie!" she said, raising her voice slightly. "Mary? Is that you?"

  "Helena?"

/>   She almost whooped for joy. That was Jamie's voice — small and frightened, but nevertheless his voice. It was him — she'd found him. He was still alive, he was conscious, she hadn't eaten him or killed him —

  "Is that you?"

  "Yes," she said quickly, her heart pounding. "Who's with you?"

  "These two were here when I got here," he said in a low voice. "The little girl says her name is Mary — the boy is Tom. He's from Lord Weatherby's estate —"

  "We know, we know," she whispered, not wanting to get too carried away. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

  "We're okay," he said cautiously, and she shut her eyes with relief. "These two have been here for a long time, though… they're very hungry."

  "We're going to get you out," Helena promised. "We've brought food and drink and we've got a cart…" She was almost sobbing with relief. She could feel Brendan's arm around her waist, holding her tight, and she reached up to kiss him —

  But something was wrong. She could hear a strange scraping sound — and something was falling onto her upturned face like rain. She reached up to brush it away, frowning — it felt almost like sand… she looked up at the ceiling for the first time, lifting her torch high…

  Then an enormous shape fell from the roof.

  Her scream echoed through the whole cave, and she heard Brendan shout in surprise as the shape struck him squarely, knocking him away from her in the dark. She gripped her torch tightly, stumbling backwards away from the shape, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. Her instincts were screaming at her that it was a cave-in — but something else, something deeper than her spelunking instincts, was drowning that out. This was no cave-in — this cave had been carved far too carefully for that. This was the Black Annis.

  Sure enough, there she stood — rising to her feet, Brendan lying among the bones behind her and groaning with the impact with which she'd struck him. Up close, she was just as frightening as she had been out on the moors — but the flickering torchlight added fresh shadows to her haggard face, and her black eyes gleamed with malice. Again, she lifted her twisted hand toward Helena's face, taking a few shambling steps toward her — Helena's eyes flicked down, and she saw her feet, twisted and bare, covered in dirt, horribly misshapen and deformed… and an exact match for the tracks they'd seen around Oliver's farmhouse, all those nights ago.

  "It's you," she breathed, staring up at the woman's twisted face. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she could see it — the slightest hint of humanity behind the monstrous rictus that the Black Annis presented her with. She was grinding her teeth hard, and the sound reminded her strongly of the sound of metal scraping against rock… the sound of her talons scraping away the sandstone to hollow out the cave, her jaw working furiously as her teeth ground and ground. That had been one of the details in the folklore books — listen for the sound of her grinding teeth, to know when to flee from the Black Annis…

  But this wasn't some fairytale monster, she reminded herself, staring into the monster's hypnotic eyes. This wasn't the Black Annis, not really… that was just a name it had been given. This was a woman — a human woman, grief stricken and alone, who'd allowed her dormant power to transform her into something horrific. She could have killed Helena already — she'd seen how fast the creature could move. But she wasn't dead. She was staring into the monster's eyes as slowly but surely it extended its talons toward her face.

  Something told her to stay put as the creature reached for her … some deep instinct told her to let the creature regard her, even though her more animalistic instincts were screaming at her to run, to get the hell out of this death trap of a cave and never look back. But she straightened her back instead and held the torch a little further away from the creature, so the light fell on her face without shining too harshly in the Black Annis' eyes. Its black eyes widened a little as its talons came closer and closer — she tried her best to give it a smile, and though she could feel her face trembling with fear, the creature was definitely responding. She could see Brendan struggling upright on the floor behind the creature, wincing in pain, and she hoped like hell he wouldn't do anything stupid while she tried her best to handle this…

  "Hi," she whispered. "How are you, Mom?"

  She knew that Brigid had been an Irish girl who grew up in Scotland, that her voice would have sounded nothing like hers… she would have called her mother Ma or Mam, not Mom… but somehow, she couldn't bring herself to call the creature anything else. And just as she spoke, the creature's hard metal nails ever so gently brushed against her cheek. She shivered a little at the touch of those freezing cold nails, so gentle against her skin… but so wickedly sharp that she could feel how close they were to cutting her skin…

  "It's me," she breathed, and that was a definite flicker of emotion in the creature's black eyes. It was hard to read her strange, haggard face, so twisted and inhuman it was… but it was something like surprise. Surprise, and wonder. "It's me, Mom. It's Brigid. I've come back to you." She didn't know what she was saying — she was just letting instinct guide her, opening her heart and letting whatever she thought of come to the surface. Though her plan had been to pretend to be Brigid, she oddly didn't feel like she was putting anything on… this wasn't a costume. In a way, Brigid was with her… always had been.

  And then the creature spoke, in the high, frightening voice she remembered from her dream… but somehow, it didn't frighten her the way it had back then. "Brigid," it sighed. "I knew… I knew they couldn't keep us apart…"

  "It's okay, Mom," she said softly… and then her eyes widened.

  Something was happening. The Black Annis was slouching, lower and lower… or was she? No, Helena realized with a shock. She was shrinking, returning to a normal human height. Her body was less twisted, less inhuman… the blue tinge was retreating from her skin, leaving normal pink flesh in its place, and as she stared into her eyes she saw them changing from black to the same deep brown color that she saw every morning when she looked into the mirror.

  "Mom," she whispered, and this time she meant it. Anne — for that was who this woman was — looked exactly like her own mother. The woman smiled weakly, and this time the teeth that smile revealed weren't jagged and serrated… they were normal. The spell was broken, Helena realized with a shock. Black Annis was no more.

  And just as she was about to rejoice, Anne stumbled and fell forward — into her arms. She caught her, shocked by how frail her body was, how light she was as she eased her down to the ground, propping her up carefully in her lap. She reached for the canteen of water she was carrying and eased some of it between Anne's dry lips. The woman sipped at it thirstily, then pushed it away, her brown eyes full of light as she stroked Helena's face again and again with fingertips that were soft and warm and dry, no longer metallic and murderous…

  "It's you," she breathed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It's truly you, Brigid, my darling, they didn't take you, they didn't… oh, my darling, I've been so alone…"

  "I've got you now, Mom," she whispered, holding the woman tightly. "We're together. It's okay — I'm okay."

  "You're happy?" she breathed, a wondering look on her face. "You and that young man… Brendan?"

  She heard Brendan take a sharp breath of surprise at the question and smiled, her eyes full of tears. "Yes, Mom. We're in love."

  "He's taking good care of you?"

  "The best," she promised. "Try to drink something," she said softly, worried about how pale the woman was. She couldn't have been eating much, down here in this cave, and it seemed like the energy was draining out of her.

  "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "I did… I did some things, I don't remember too well, I… the fog… some children." A sudden burst of strength and she sat up, clutching at Helena's sleeve. "The little ones… I didn't — you must —"

  "They're okay, Anne," Brendan said, moving in close. "They're safe and sound, we're looking after them."

  "Good," she said softly, and Helen
a realized with a shock that her eyes were sliding shut. "Oh, my dear Brigid, thank the gods you're safe…"

  And then her hand fell away from Helena's face, and her eyes slid shut… and she knew, somehow, even without checking for a pulse, that Anne was gone. She realized she was weeping, tears dripping onto the woman's face, her closed eyelids… and Brendan's arm was around her, holding her close as she wept for the woman who'd lived alone down here for so many long, bitter years.

  Chapter 30

  “At least she's at peace now," Helena said softly as she gazed down at the grave. It was small comfort — but comfort enough, in the long weeks that had passed since they'd defeated the Black Annis once and for all.

  Brendan was by her side. The two of them had made the ride out to the grave that afternoon, taking advantage of the brief break in the freezing cold weather to visit the clan graveyard, where Anne had been buried after a considerable amount of argument back and forth. It seemed that some members of the clan felt that Anne shouldn't be buried in the clan graveyard as a result of her crimes… but Brendan and Helena had argued tirelessly in her defense that, despite her crimes, she had been redeemed in the end. It hadn't been her fault, in the end, that she'd been driven mad by her grief… the fault there lay with the witch hunters who had so wrongfully executed her daughter.

  Nobody in Clan MacClaran, it seemed, was untouched by witch hunters. Even Colin, who'd been the most vociferous voice against Anne being interred with the rest of the clan, backed down in the face of that argument. So the woman had been buried in the clan graveyard the day after the rescue had taken place.