Visions of Triumph

by Anne, Meg

  The Druid grinned. “No, but you are. Call it a short stay of execution, but it won’t last long. I need you out of my way temporarily, and I couldn’t think of a better way to make that happen.”

  Runes flared to life around him, covering the walls and the floor beneath his feet. Lucas tried to step out of the illuminated circle, but slammed into an invisible barrier.

  “Too late, Detective. But you knew that as soon as you stepped in here. I promise to take very good care of your Seer once you’re gone. I’ve really enjoyed my time with her.”

  “Don’t you fucking touch her!” Lucas shouted as his mind raced. He wasn’t walking out of this, but defeat didn’t sit well with him.

  Cocking his head, the Druid snickered and waved. “Enjoy your time in the Wasteland. Once I’ve gotten rid of every other obstacle in my way—”

  A roar began to build behind him, and Lucas couldn’t hear the rest of what the Druid said. He patted his pockets, searching for something he could use to disrupt the barrier long enough to get himself out of it with a rune of his own.

  Purple light radiated out from the runes, growing in strength until Lucas had to shield his eyes from the blast.

  Too late. Time was up.

  Invisible flames enveloped him, and Lucas screamed.

  Still screaming, his body engulfed by invisible flames, Lucas bolted upright, scrambling back on his hands and feet until he realized he was alone. Again. He had no idea how long he’d been here; the light never changed to indicate the passing of days, but this was the fifth time Lucas had relived that fucking night.

  The fifth time Lucas had to watch the smile on that smug bastard’s face as he was ripped away from everyone that mattered to him.

  As always, the feeling of helplessness ate at him. In the end, he’d been no good to any of them. He might have bought them time, but if he was trapped here in the Wasteland, then they were on their own…which meant they were as good as dead.

  Dropping his head into his hands, Lucas let out a scream of rage. “Fuck!”

  There wasn’t even anything to hit, no way to expel the anger inside him. Wasteland was an apt name for this place. Nothing alive—aside from himself—survived here. The entire fucking landscape was a barren sandpit, void of nearly all color. The sky looked like something out of a cartoon, a mix of gray-blue swirls that could have been clouds or even the other side of a portal. Even he was muted here, as if the life that animated him was slowly draining away.

  His power sizzled beneath his skin in response to the twin flames of anger and frustration at war within him. He couldn’t just sit here and wait to die. With no other option available to him—and sitting still was not an option—Lucas began walking. At least, this way, he was moving forward.

  If his grandfather found a way out of the Wasteland, he could do the same.

  Or he’d die trying.

  Chapped lips bled, providing him with the tangy taste of copper as he moved. There was no water, no food, in this nightmarish place. Lucas felt no hunger or thirst, no happiness, nothing but rage and guilt for those he’d left behind to fight his war.

  Sand sucked at his feet as he walked, turning his steps into a heavy trudge, but he kept going. Even when it felt like his legs turned to rubber and his lungs burned like they were on fire, no matter what, he had to get to them. Even if it killed him.

  Hell, he might as well already be dead.

  Lizzie.

  Matthews.

  Skye.

  The thought of her brought a lump to his throat. The Druid had let him know she was alive, but in what shape? He knew the fucker had cut her ear off; what other damage had he done?

  Lucas clenched his fists and used the bubbling rage to push himself harder.

  A shadow took shape in front of him. It stood far enough away on a sand dune that Lucas couldn’t make out anything other than a humanoid form. Hope bloomed in his chest. Maybe whoever it is knows how I can get the hell out of here!

  “Hello?” he shouted, moving faster. “Hey!” he yelled again, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

  The closer he got, the clearer the image became, and it wasn’t long before Lucas recognized who was in front of him.

  “Skye! Thank God! How did you get here? Are you alright?” He rushed up the dune toward her.

  She didn’t respond, didn’t react in any way to his presence, just stood before him in jeans and a white T-shirt, dark hair braided down her back.

  “Are you alright?”

  He searched her for injuries, starting with her legs, then slowly letting his gaze travel up her body. He reached her head and clenched his jaw as unease twisted in his belly and grief slid icy fingers around his heart. The woman before him still had both ears.

  Lucas would never forget what he’d found in that box.

  “You aren’t here,” he whispered, his voice cracking on the words.

  This version of Skye cocked her head to the side, studying him. She reached for him, and he backed away, shaking his head.

  “You aren’t really here,” he repeated, the words damn near choking him with grief. Was she just some figment of his imagination here to torture him? Is that what happened in the Wasteland, just an eternity of psychological torture? He wouldn’t survive that.

  “Lucas,” she whispered.

  Lucas shook his head in denial. “Not here…you aren’t here!”

  She smiled and turned into granules of sand that swirled around him on a small gust of air before falling to the ground, leaving him empty and alone once more.

  Chapter 14

  Skye

  Skye’s eyelids fluttered open, and she squinted in the light streaming through the windows.

  For a brief moment, she wondered if the last few weeks had been nothing but a nightmare. A horrific, soul-crushing nightmare. She glanced at the door, half-expecting Lucas to walk in, a smug smile on his face. Just another normal morning…

  But as she woke up, realization ripped that hope away as quickly as it had come, and the facts hit her like a freight train.

  Lucas was gone.

  He was never coming for her.

  She was alone.

  Even if the latter wasn’t entirely true, since Lizzie, James, and Giles were all in the next room, without Lucas she still felt like it. Life without him seemed empty, now that she understood what living without him would mean.

  Skye sat up, her head aching and hot, although the worst of the physical pain had passed. She scratched at the skin just above where her ear had been, the thick bandage making it impossible to relieve the itch entirely. She’d refused to go to the hospital, not wanting to deal with the inquiries a missing limb would necessitate. Whatever magic the Druid had used to hold her steady had also cauterized the wound, so there wasn’t much that could be done anyway, other than cleaning it and bandaging her up. James had volunteered, stating he was the only one with any semblance of medical training. Even still, Skye knew it wasn’t easy for him, given his aversion to blood.

  She’d gotten off lucky, all things considered, the Druid could have done so much worse. Hell, he had done worse, night after night. But this time, he hadn’t just marked her, he’d taken a piece of her. Permanently. And not just in the physical sense.

  The Druid may have chopped a piece of her off, but he shattered her heart by destroying the man she loved.

  Getting to her feet, Skye stretched and finally got out of the bed that still smelled like the man she loved. Tears burned in her eyes, the lump in her throat all but choking her, and she staggered. Gripping the headboard for support, Skye forced herself to take a deep breath.

  In and out.

  Once.

  Twice.

  It was all she could do to keep herself from falling apart.

  Making her way out the door and down the hall, voices carried toward her. Since this was the first time she’d ventured out of her room, Skye used the muffled voices to guide her to the others.

  Lucas had been gone for f
ive days. Five miserable, pain-filled, nightmarish days, and she’d slept for most of them.

  Although she dreamt of him every time she closed her eyes, it was bittersweet torture Skye wished would let up, if even for a single night. Not that she deserved the peace; his imprisonment was her fault.

  The voices grew louder, and Skye turned the corner and found herself in the small kitchen. Lizzie stood at the outdated stove, cooking something Skye had no interest in eating, while James and Giles looked up at her.

  At the sudden silence, Lizzie turned around. “Skye!” she said, rushing toward her. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

  Skye shook her head, the lump in her throat growing larger. She’d seen Lizzie a few times when she’d brought food in, but facing her friend after what she’d been about to do to her brother was nearly too much.

  “Are you sure?” Lizzie’s face fell. “Honey, it’s okay.” Lizzie pulled her in for an embrace, and she returned it, the tears nearly breaking free.

  Skye stepped back first, and took the seat offered to her by Giles.

  “How are ye feelin’, lass?”

  “Fine,” she lied. What else was she supposed to say? It’s not like she could put into words the total devastation that consumed her. If a soul could be broken, hers certainly was.

  “Must be nice to be so unaffected,” James snapped.

  “James Matthews.” Lizzie’s voice reminded her of a mother chastising a child: stern and unyielding. Lizzie shot him a glare.

  Skye looked up at James for the first time since entering the kitchen. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

  “What?” He looked at Lizzie and then back down at the book in his hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Skye whispered.

  “For what, exactly? Abandoning us when we needed you?” James accused, looking back up and clasping his hands in front of him on the table.

  “I was only leaving because I had to.”

  “Please, enlighten us.”

  “James!” Lizzie smacked his arm.

  Skye shook her head. “He has every right to be upset with me. I shouldn’t have written that note, I should have called Lucas to tell him—” Her voice broke, and she covered her face with cold hands.

  “Tell him what?”

  Lizzie’s tone was much gentler than the one she’d used on James. It almost hurt worse than James’ anger. Skye didn’t deserve her understanding or forgiveness.

  “How come you get to push her for answers, but I can’t?” James asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

  “Shut up, James, or get the hell out of here. Tell him what, Skye?”

  Skye swallowed hard and looked up at them. “After you guys left, I had a vision.” Skye shut her eyes tightly. “I Saw my death.”

  Lizzie gasped. “That’s never happened before! Has it?”

  “No, it was a first for me and anyone in my line…as far as I know.”

  Giles touched her shoulder gently, pulling her gaze to his worried face. “How did ye die?”

  “The Druid killed me, in front of Lucas and the rest of you.”

  “Oh no.” Lizzie covered her mouth.

  “My death is what killed you all.” No need to tell them Lucas turned evil and slaughtered James before her vision had released its hold on her. “Had I not been there, the Druid wouldn’t have used me, and Lucas could have won.”

  James didn’t say a word, just sat there studying her intently.

  Lizzie knelt beside her and grabbed both Skye’s hands. “None of what happened is your fault, Skye.”

  “It is my fault. If I’d gone with you guys—”

  “Were you planning on leaving?” James asked. “Is that why you sent us ahead?”

  Skye shook her head emphatically. “No, I was going to look through the journals, that’s all. It wasn’t until after you left that I had the vision and realized what I needed to do.”

  James pushed to his feet. “Then I guess it’s not all your fault.” He disappeared out of the room.

  “Don’t listen to him,” Lizzie told her softly. “He’s grumpy and not handling it well. Apparently, being an ass is his coping mechanism.”

  Any other time, Skye would have laughed at the assessment. But laughter felt further away than Lucas.

  “How do you not blame me? Your brother—”

  “Knew what he was doing when he walked into that building. I have to believe he will come back, that he somehow had a plan for getting out of whatever situation he found himself in.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Skye sobbed, losing hold of the small amount of control she’d clung to.

  Giles squeezed her shoulder.

  Lizzie pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry for what you went through, I can’t even imagine. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  “I just want Lucas back.”

  “We’ll get him back, lass.” Giles’ voice was soft, and Skye knew he meant every word, but it was hard for her to believe they would find a way to get to him. It wasn’t like there was a map they could use. He was in the Wasteland, not fucking South Dakota.

  Besides, if the Druid showed up, they were dead, and Lucas might already be dead. It was getting damn hard to find the silver lining. And Lucas thinks I’m an optimist…

  The thought spawned a fresh wave of grief, and Skye buried her face in her hands as her shoulders silently shook.

  Without any hope, how the hell was she supposed to keep going?

  Skye lost track of time as the days blurred together. If it hadn’t been for Lizzie, she wouldn’t have remembered to eat or bathe. The damp braid resting along her spine was proof that Lizzie took care of her when she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—take care of herself.

  Currently, Skye was curled up in the armchair Lucas usually claimed. Something about being cocooned by the fabric that once surrounded him brought her a sliver of comfort. Almost as if something of him remained behind to cradle her in its memory of him.

  The others murmured around her, their voices no more than the buzz of insects on a lazy summer afternoon. They took to speaking in hushed tones whenever she was present, as if their words would be the straw that finally broke her. As if anything they said could hold such power. The worst had already been done, and she hadn’t fallen apart. At least not completely. She retired into herself, leaving them to carry on with their lives while she clung to the things that helped her feel close to the man she loved. A worn shirt. A pair of his boxers. His pillow. They were a sanctuary for her battered heart.

  Despite her withdrawal, she hadn’t completely given up. Her mind was a hive of activity even if her body was not.

  Over and over her thoughts churned, as she sought an answer to the riddle that had plagued her upon waking to learn it hadn’t all been a terrible nightmare. How had the Druid escaped? There was a way…she just needed to find it. Unfortunately, the only one with an answer to that question wasn’t likely to share his wisdom with her.

  Skye sighed and shifted in the armchair, wrapping the soft woolen blanket tighter around her body. The whisper of voices continued, the others hardly noticing she was even still sitting among them.

  “You’ll never figure it out, you know.”

  She froze, her eyes flying wide at the menacing purr she knew all too well.

  No. Not here. He can’t be here.

  Heart pounding, Skye turned her head. A soft gasp fell from her lips when her eyes landed on the robed figure leaning against the mantelpiece.

  “Not that you could do anything from here anyway, Gypsy. You don’t have the power. Not to mention the fact that you couldn’t even share your knowledge if you did somehow manage to stumble across a way out of the Wasteland.”

  Fear held her body immobile while the bandaged side of her head began to throb.

  The Druid stepped away from the mantel and began to stalk toward her.

  “No,” Skye moaned, pressing her body back into the chair. She wouldn’t survive another atta
ck from him so soon.

  “Skye?” Lizzie asked, finally pausing in her conversation with Giles and James to check on her.

  The Druid held up a pale finger to his lips. “Shhh, Seer. You don’t want to upset them. Only you can see me.” He closed the distance easily, leaning down to whisper in her good ear, “Besides, I’ve missed our little chats. Haven’t you?”

  “No!” Skye shouted, jumping out of her chair and sending it toppling over. “You’re not here! You’re not here!” she cried, hands flying up to cover her head as she squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Skye!” Lizzie cried.

  The Druid lunged, his hands curled like he was going to grab her, and Skye shrieked, flinging his hand away. Seeking a weapon, Skye ripped the lamp’s cord out of the wall as she wrapped her fingers around its base in a death grip.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me,” she snarled, lifting the lamp above her head, ready to smash it into his smirking face.

  “Giovanni!” James shouted.

  Skye blinked in confusion. Why would he call her that? Only Lucas ever called her Giovanni. Why would James want to distract her right now? Couldn’t they see the danger they were in?

  Lizzie’s terrified whimper pulled Skye’s attention back around. Lucas’ sister was wide-eyed, her hands held up protectively over her head.

  The arm holding the lamp started to lower as Skye scanned the room for the Druid. “Where is he? Where did he go?” she demanded, her voice bordering on hysterical.

  “W-who?” Lizzie stammered.

  “The Druid! He was just here.”

  What little color was left in Lizzie’s face drained away. “Here?” she whimpered, looking around the room.

  Confused, Skye finally let the lamp drop from her fingers. “Didn’t you guys see him? He was right there,” she said, pointing to where he’d been standing by the mantel.

  “Skye, no one was here but us,” James said carefully, righting the armchair.

  “What?” she asked, glancing between them.

  “Nay, lass. It’s just us,” Giles confirmed.