by Anne, Meg
Seeing her, even the fake her, was taking its toll. Truth was, he couldn’t figure out why he hadn’t gone full Shining already. He still felt normal, and other than seeing Wasteland Skye, he wasn’t hallucinating.
Not like you’d know if you were going insane, dumbass.
When she didn’t answer, Lucas opened his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. She was gone. Finally. Not that she’d stay gone. She always came back. She probably wouldn’t stay away until she’d claimed the last pieces of his fucking soul.
Maybe he should just give in; it wasn’t like a soul was going to do him any good while trapped here.
The wind screamed outside, and the storm grew so strong it completely blacked out any light, casting him in complete darkness.
Perfect.
Just as quickly as it came, the storm died, and a dim light returned to the cavern. Without knowing how much time he had, Lucas pushed to his feet. Might as well explore…
He brushed sand from his hair and clothes, then turned to survey the small space he’d found.
“What the hell?”
Light from the mouth of the cave cast a light onto the back wall he’d been leaning against. Someone had painted dark runes all over the space, though Lucas didn’t recognize the meaning of them. The swirls and lines were similar enough to the spells he’d been practicing back home, but these felt…dead to him. Void of all magic, despite the fact that they’d had to be painted by someone who knew what they were doing.
Someone like my bastard grandfather.
Moving closer, it soon became obvious that they’d been painted in blood. Of course, they had. Fucking Druids and their penchant for bleeding all over the place.
Did I just find his hideout?
Maybe there would be a clue about how he managed to escape…Lucas took a tentative step forward, not trusting his luck. Everything about this place had been a trap meant to ensnare his mind and break his will. What would make this cave any different?
His foot kicked a rock, sending it clattering across the stone floor. Leaning down, he lifted it. Someone had sharpened the edge, turning it into a blade.
A blade that was covered in dried blood.
Investigating the space as if it was one of his crime scenes, Lucas found more of the swirling symbols, as well as what appeared to be tally marks carved into the hard stone. By the looks of it, whoever made the runes had been trapped here for decades, more evidence this was the Druid’s cave. Or, maybe that’s just what he wants you to think, a cautious voice warned. Lucas ignored it, focusing instead on the hope blooming in his chest.
For the first time since Lucas woke up in the Wasteland, a smile spread across his face.
This had to be it! Somewhere in these bloody symbols was the way out of this godforsaken place.
Now, he just needed to find it.
Chapter 16
Lizzie
Soft firelight danced around the room, casting a romantic glow in the bedroom. The crackling of the wood as it burned should have soothed her, but Lizzie was far from calm. No matter how many times or various ways she distracted herself, eventually the worries would worm their way back into the forefront of her mind.
James’ fingers traced soft circles against her palm as they both stared up at the ceiling in silence. Stolen moments like this were few and far between these days. Dealing with Skye was almost like adopting a puppy—actually, it was more like adopting ten puppies—and Lizzie was on constant Skye patrol in an attempt to mitigate the damage she was doing to her body by refusing to take care of herself. Lizzie wished it was as easy to prevent the damage to her heart.
Skye had lost all interest in caring for herself. Basic hygiene was a thing of the past, and food usually sat untouched until Lizzie threatened to force feed her. Somedays, it was worse than dealing with a two-year-old. Scratch that. A two-year-old would be easier, at least they would tell you what they wanted. Skye barely formed words most days. Unless she was muttering to herself. Most of the time, she was practically catatonic, and Lizzie wasn’t sure that was the less frightening of the two states. If they didn’t find a way to reach Lucas soon, Lizzie didn’t think there was anything that would keep the Skye she knew from fading away completely.
Lizzie closed her eyes, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Her brother was out there somewhere, stranded in the Wasteland, and they were no closer to finding him.
“Hey,” James said softly, wiping the tear away. “What is it?”
Lizzie opened her eyes but didn’t look at him. “What if we never find him?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she could keep the words from being true if no one else heard them.
“Lucas?”
The absurdity of his need to ask sparked the hint of temper never far from the surface. “No, the Prince of England. Who else would I be talking about?”
James leaned back against the pillow and propped his head up on an arm. His hazel eyes were filled with understanding. “We’ll find him.”
“How do you know that? We’ve been trying for over a week, and we’re no closer than we were the night he was sent there. What if this is it? What if we have to spend the rest of our lives without him? Are we just hiding here, avoiding the inevitable?”
“And just what is the inevitable, Lizzie?”
She bit her lip and stared up at the ceiling, as shadows danced on the plaster until tears blurred her vision. “Our deaths.”
James sat up fully, the sheet dropping to his hips. “You think the Druid killing us is inevitable?”
Lizzie moved to face him, and his eyes dropped to her chest. With a sigh, she tugged the sheet up to cover her bare breasts. James pouted, but lifted his eyes back to her face.
“Without Lucas, what else is going to happen? I’m not magical, you aren’t a Druid, and other than being able to see what might happen, Skye has no real power. Hell, Skye is barely functioning right now. We’re screwed if he comes after us, James.”
James brushed a finger down her cheek. “Since when are you so quick to give up?”
“I just know when to admit I’ve lost.”
“We haven’t lost.”
“It sure feels like it,” she muttered, looking away.
Tilting her chin up until her eyes met his, James insisted, “Lucas is alive, Lizzie, not dead. That means we still have a shot. You think your brother would have given up and accepted you were dead if the roles were reversed?”
The words were like a blow to her gut. Gaping, Lizzie stared at him, hurt and anger making it hard to speak. “You think I want him to be dead?”
“I think you and Skye both want it to be over, one way or another.”
“I don’t want any of this,” Lizzie said softly, more tears spilling down her cheeks. “I want my brother back, but I also don’t want to have false hope. I’m a realist.”
James let out a breath. “You would never have said shit like that before.”
“Excuse me?”
“Before Jeff.”
Lizzie sucked in a breath. “What the hell does that asshole have to do with anything?”
“You were always an optimist—frustratingly so—until he got to you. Ever since then, I’ve watched you steadily morphing into a pessimist.”
“First of all, you didn’t know me before I met him, and secondly, what is the bright side of our current situation, James? Please enlighten me.”
“Just because we didn’t speak much before your marriage doesn’t mean I didn’t know you, Liz. Fuck, I’ve been half in love with you since the day you bounced into the precinct to bring Lucas some of your homemade muffins. Which, in case you don’t remember, was the day Lucas and I got partnered up.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She’d been so wrapped up in the newness of her relationship with Jeff she’d barely noticed the dark-haired detective working with her brother.
James sat forward and linked his fingers with hers, his voice gentle but insistent. “The bright side here, baby, is that your brother
is alive. If I know him as well as I think I do, he’s probably already searching for a way back so he can kick ass and take names.”
Lizzie chuckled. She could almost picture Lucas, red-faced and beating his fists against a wall trying to make his own door home.
“If you think, for one second, that I’m okay with rolling over and giving up, you don’t know me at all, Lizzie MacConnell. I have every intention of having a future with you. One that involves Greece, you in a white dress walking down an aisle, and, hopefully, kids.”
Lizzie smiled despite the lump in her throat. She wanted all those things, too, but how long were they supposed to hold on to hope? How long was she expected to wear this mask like she wasn’t slowly dying inside?
“I love you, Liz.”
“I love you, too.”
James cupped her face and pulled her body against his. His lips were soft on hers, and she pressed against him, wanting more. He trailed his fingers down her bare back, and Lizzie shivered from the touch.
A scream ripped through the relative quiet of the cottage, and they pulled apart as if they'd been scorched by flames.
“What the hell was that?”
“Skye!” Lizzie answered, already out of bed and pulling on a robe.
Ripping the door open, she ran down the hall toward the sobbing. Another scream sounded, and James pulled her back, stepping in front of her.
“Let me go in first.”
Lizzie nodded, and he rounded the corner into the living room. Curiosity overriding concern for herself, Lizzie followed a few seconds later. Giles stood in the center of the room staring at a cowering Skye.
“Stay away from me!” she screamed, her eyes red and swollen from crying.
“What happened?” James demanded.
The older man’s hands trembled as he ran them through his hair. Wide-eyed, he shook his head. “I haven’t a bloody clue. We were sittin’ on the couch, readin’ through her Gran’s journals, when she grew panicked and pale. I tried to speak to the lass, but she started shriekin’ and throwin’ whatever she could reach at me, includin’ her fists when she ran out of options.”
Lizzie studied Giles. His lip was bleeding from the corner, but he was otherwise unharmed. “She hit you?”
He nodded. “Got me bloody good, too.” He touched his split lip with a wince. “Haven’t been hit that hard since the last pub fight I got myself into.”
“Skye,” James said, his voice low as he knelt in front of her.
She didn’t look at him, but stared through him. “No, no, no,” she chanted. “What more do you want from me? You’ve already taken everything!”
Lizzie hugged herself, worrying at her lower lip. Her earlier thoughts of slowly dying inside popping into her mind. She’d had it all wrong; she wasn’t the one dying, Skye was. Bit by bit, every day, she was losing more of herself to the memory of what that bastard had done to her. The stubborn, sassy woman who’d become such an important part of their lives was shattering, and there was only one person who could help her pick up the pieces.
Unfortunately for them, they had to find him first.
“Skye.” Lizzie crossed the room and knelt beside James.
Skye cringed and pressed back into the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. Tears splashed down her cheeks and snot dripped from her nose, but she didn’t bother wiping her face. “Please stop,” she begged, her voice heartbreakingly child-like.
“Skye, the Druid isn’t here.”
Shaking, she raised her hands, pressing them against the sides of her head, as if trying to drown out whatever her imaginary Druid was saying.
James called her name, but she didn’t so much as flinch. She was lost to whatever horror show was playing out in front of her. Trying again, he gently grasped her wrist and pulled it away from her good ear. “Skye, you’re safe. We’ve got you, and we won’t let him get you again.”
Wanting to do something, Lizzie reached forward and touched Skye’s leg. Skye flinched and pulled it back into her body. Dropping her arms to her knees, she began to rock like a frightened child.
“Skye, open your eyes,” Lizzie pleaded.
Skye’s eyelids fluttered open, and for the first time, she looked directly at Lizzie. Swallowing, she rasped, “Lizzie?”
Lizzie nodded, her heart breaking all over at the pain reflected in her friend’s eyes. Skye slumped forward, and Lizzie wrapped her arms around her as her shoulders shook.
“I don’t know what to do,” she cried. “He won’t leave me alone.”
“Shhhhhhh, it’s okay.” Lizzie rubbed her hand over Skye’s tangled mess of hair. “He won’t get you again, I promise.”
James ran a hand down Lizzie’s back and gave her an encouraging smile before getting to his feet. “Let’s get a drink, Giles.”
“A dram of scotch would be much appreciated.”
The two men left the room while Lizzie held onto Skye. Pressing her cheek against the other woman’s head, Lizzie cradled her and promised, “We will find Lucas, Skye. And then we’ll send that bastard Druid straight to hell.”
Chapter 17
Skye
Shame burned in her cheeks, and she scooted deeper into her cave of blankets. I am losing my mind. She’d been so damn sure he was really there this time.
His voice echoed in her head, and Skye shivered, nervously peeking over the top of her blanket to ensure she was still alone in Lucas’ bed.
One ragged breath.
Two.
Relaxing only slightly, she closed her eyes.
There was no rational explanation for her hallucinations, or her reaction to them. Whatever the Druid had done to her while she’d been chained in that warehouse had left its imprint on her soul. She might have gotten away from him physically, but it was growing increasingly clear she’d never escape him fully.
Some wounds never truly healed.
Skye could barely stand to be in her own company right now; she was a complete fucking mess. Hiding under the blankets and imagining the boogie man waiting for her beneath the bed… or in a shadowed corner of the room—this wasn’t her. She was stronger than this. With only herself to count on for so long, Skye learned how to be tough. Or at least, she had been, once upon a time.
She could find no hint of the woman she used to be in the haunted eyes that stared back at her from the mirror each morning. Some crucial element of her was missing now. The Druid had stolen it from her when he carved his first rune into her flesh. Or maybe she lost it when he beat her night after night only to patch her together and start over again. Or when he tore off her ear like it was some sinister souvenir…and that wasn’t even considering what the loss of Lucas was doing to her.
Nothing felt safe anymore. Not even her mind could be her sanctuary now, so filled with ghosts as it was.
Skye was tainted. Tainted by the Druid’s magic. Tainted by his touch.
Revulsion crawled over her skin like a thousand disgusting insects. There was no escape when your prison was in your mind.
Blinking back tears, Skye forced herself to stay present and not get lost in another crushing wave of grief.
“If someone’s listening…I-I need your help. Please…if you could just send me a sign…I’m” —she choked back a sob— “I’m not sure how much longer I can fight this without knowing there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Skye didn’t know what she was asking for, or even who she asked, only that she was on the brink of going under, and this time, she wasn’t sure she’d resurface.
Rolling over onto her side, she brought her knees up to her chest and did the only thing she could: she breathed…and eventually, she fell asleep.
“Skye, honey, you really need to take better care of yourself.”
“Gran? What are you doing in my studio?” Skye looked away from the red and purple swirls on her canvas and over to the bespectacled woman hovering just inside of the door.
“Just stopping by for a visit.”
“Now?” Skye g
lanced at her wrist, trying to gauge the time, but the hands of her watch were frozen, and the symbols looked like…music notes? She blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, but the numbers never came into focus. Definitely a good time for a break.
“Is there ever a bad time to visit my favorite granddaughter?”
Skye rolled her eyes. “Gran, I’m your only granddaughter.”
“So?” she challenged with a lift of her silvery brow.
Knowing it was a losing argument, Skye laughed and held her arms open for a hug.
“That’s more like it,” Janice murmured, stepping into Skye’s arms and squeezing tight.
The scent of roses and honeysuckle filled her nose, and loss more potent than anything she’d ever felt crashed into her. Skye fought against unexpected tears. She took a step back from her Gran, blinking in confusion. What in the world was wrong with her? Why would a hug make her feel so…alone?
Placing a hand on either side of her cheeks, her Gran studied her with eyes that saw everything. The deep chocolate and gold-flecked orbs were filled with pity. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Sorry? What are you talking about?”
“If there was more time, I would pretend with you for a while longer, but I’m not supposed to be here as it is. I don’t think they’ll let that go unnoticed.”
“Pretend? They? Gran, are you feeling okay?”
Janice bat away Skye’s hand as she tried to take her temperature. “I’m fine, Skylar. I need you to listen to me.”
Skye froze, her back going ramrod straight. Her Gran only ever called her by her full name when she was in trouble. Slowly taking a seat in a chair draped with a paint-splattered cloth, Skye looked up at her Gran. “I’m listening.”
“I know you’ve read the journals.”
Guilt gnawed at her, and Skye started to squirm. “Gran, I—”
“No need to apologize, honey. I wouldn’t have left them for you if you weren’t meant to read them. What’s important now is that you take the lessons with you.”