Drawn into Darkness

  His steady gaze met hers. “You don’t think causing the death of my wife and bairns is reason enough?”

  She shook her head. “I just don’t see you taking the coward’s way out. Blaming yourself? Sure. Going a little crazy with grief and killing Tormod? You bet. Killing yourself? Nope, I don’t see it.”

  He reached up and cupped her chin in his hand. “Your faith in me is astounding.”

  She leaned into him. “There’s more to the story, right?”

  “Aye.” At the prod of her elbow, he continued. “After Tormod ran my entire family through, he set fire to the manor house and left me to wallow in my guilt. It began to rain, and at first I mistook the voice for the whisper of raindrops on the battlements. But after a time, I realized the faint noise came from my youngest brother, a friar, lying upon the cobbles, bleeding into the dirt. I went to him and held his head in my lap, hoping to ease his passing.”

  Lachlan recalled the moment vividly. Starkly. Weeping like a bairn and near puking with regret, he’d begged his brother for forgiveness. Being a better man than Lachlan could ever hope to be, his brother had granted it.

  “When he said he saw Death approaching, I had no notion what he saw. Lost in my despair and believing it to be Death herself rather than her agent, I pleaded for her to spare his life and offered my own life in return. No one was more surprised than I when she appeared to me and accepted the trade.”

  “Wait a second. Death is a she?”

  “Aye.” He smiled at her disgruntled expression. “But to strike the bargain, I had to die. I can’t say I was completely without doubts, but watching the blood seep out of my brother made the decision remarkably easy. I took my hunting knife and drove it through my own heart.”

  “Just like that?”

  He nodded. “Just like that.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “More than you can possibly imagine.”

  She shuddered.

  “But that pain was nothing compared to the agony I felt the moment I realized I hadn’t actually saved my brother.”

  Rachel sucked in a sharp breath. “Death cheated you?”

  “In a manner of speaking. He didn’t die that day, or even from the wounds he received that day. He regained his health, left the church, married, and had a bairn of his own. But Death brands all who are destined to die with a mark visible only to Gatherers, and the moment I became a Gatherer, I saw it there, an immutable mark upon his cheek. I knew that one day I’d be called upon to collect his soul. I fought against it, stayed by his side every moment of every day, refusing to close my eyes or sleep. But eventually, despite my efforts, Death claimed him.”

  He paused, picturing another white spiral in his mind.

  “You did your best,” she offered him with sympathy. “It’s not your fault that she cheated.”

  “Rachel, I …”

  “At least he got to fall in love and have a baby. He got a chance to live a little, thanks to you.”

  He said nothing, just stared at her.

  “I understand why you did what you did,” she said, lying alongside him, hugging him tightly. “So, you’re not perfect. Welcome to the club.”

  “What, you’re no’ perfect, either?” he teased, trying to summon his courage.

  “No.” She ran her fingers through the dusting of hairs on his chest. “I killed my father.”

  Lachlan blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Okay, not directly. But I might as well have.”

  He relaxed. “What happened?”

  “I was an only child, like Em, and when I was eleven, my mom was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. That changed everything: To be closer to medical help, my dad sold our farm, moved us into town, and got a job at a chemical factory. Then when I was sixteen, he was involved in an accident at work and was blinded. It kinda fell on me to look after everyone. Not because my parents wanted it that way—in fact, my dad was as independent as they come—but out of necessity. I was the only one with a driver’s license.”

  Rachel shifted positions, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Anyway, to make a long story short, I won an art scholarship to Paris for a year. One of those once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and my parents insisted that I take it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, but idiot that I was, I let them persuade me. I wanted the dream so badly. Three weeks after I moved to Paris, my dad was hit by a car when he was crossing the street. Grocery shopping.”

  “How is that your fault?”

  “Doing the groceries was my chore.” She grimaced. “I know what you’re going to say—that I couldn’t have known he’d get hit by a car. Except that I did; I knew what kind of man he was. I knew he wouldn’t sit at home and have everything delivered to his door. I knew he’d try to walk to the store. And I still left him alone.”

  “Rachel—”

  “I flew home right away to look after my mom. I met Grant on the plane from Paris to New York and the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “You are no’ to blame for your father’s death.”

  “Nor are you to blame for your family’s. You went above and beyond trying to save your brother. You did a very brave thing.”

  Lachlan closed his eyes and kissed the top of Rachel’s head. Her version of the story was so much better than the truth. And brave? Hell no, he was a bloody coward. Again he’d had the chance to tell her about Emily, and again he’d choked over the words.

  Rachel had found some acceptance of his brother’s death in the knowledge that he’d experienced a measure of life. What had Emily had the opportunity to do? Nothing. She’d never truly been in love. Never finished high school, never attended her prom in a fancy dress. Never discovered her calling in life, whatever that might be. Never married, nor had a child. She’d die unfulfilled, and Rachel’s heart would shatter in the struggle to accept it.

  Forgive me, he begged silently.

  17

  When Lachlan and Rachel crested the north peak of Mount Misery, they found Brian and the others waiting. To Lachlan’s surprise, not one of his young trainees had bowed out, despite the two deaths of their brethren. In fact, two other men, well-seasoned Gatherers with long years of battling demons under their belts, stood in place of the fallen. Each of the sturdy warriors had a razor-edged sword in his hands and the glint of a heavy silver chain around his neck.

  Rachel took one look at Stefan’s rubber boots and plump belly and whispered, “Is that the mage?”

  “Aye. Good guess.”

  “He doesn’t look very … powerful.”

  Lachlan stared at the mage for a moment. “Looks can be deceiving.” To Brian he said, “You cut it a little close texting me the GPS location, Webster.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, but it took us a while to figure everything out. Rachel was right about the fairgrounds, sort of. It wasn’t the actual lair, but it was the entrance to some kind of freaky spatial bridge. Your buddy Stefan had a little trouble finding the On/Off switch, but once he tracked it down, he just used a little hocus-pocus to activate it.” The younger man pointed to a shadowy cleft in the rocks. “We surfaced there, at the mouth of an underground cavern. Quite the ride, I must say. Fairgrounds to here in one heart-stopping, piss-your-pants step.”

  Lachlan acknowledged Stefan with a nod. Shady or not, the mage’s skills were proving advantageous. “Excellent work. I take it you’ve already enhanced everyone’s shield charm?”

  “Yes.”

  Glancing at his watch, Lachlan called out, “It’s eleven. Let’s go in.” Then he paused, remembering Death’s advice. “One thing before we enter. This is the moment to put aside your grievances with God. Whatever your history, whatever your reasons for doubting him, find it in yourself to believe. If you can’t summon a pure and powerful faith, you’ll be of little use in a battle against one of hell’s most formidable demons.”

  He surveyed the faces before him, one by one, hoping that what he was about to do would be enough. “An oath will center our faith.”
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  Several of the men frowned, but no one backed away.

  “Raise your crosses.” He raised his and waited until every warrior’s hand was lifted and a sea of silver reflected the moonlit sky. “Upon my immortal soul …”

  Nine voices repeated his words, strong and sure.

  “I swear to give my all in the fight for good and God … and to forever defend the middle plane against the forces of Satan.”

  “Amen.”

  Lachlan’s pulse slowed as a familiar, prebattle calm slipped over him. “The goal is to locate Drusus as quickly as possible, enter his cavern, and then spread out, surrounding him. Do no’ under any circumstances take him on yourself. Clear?”

  The men nodded, but Rachel frowned. “I don’t have one. A cross, I mean.”

  Brian looped a silver chain over Rachel’s neck. “All fixed.”

  She fingered the heavy cross, tracing the Celtic-knot design engraved upon it. “Does this work the way it does with vampires? Burning them?”

  “No,” Lachlan said. “The power is in your belief. The rood can only channel your faith.”

  Her gaze flickered up to meet his, a cloud of doubt in her eyes. “Uh, this might be a bad time to tell you, but I’m not very religious.”

  As much as he understood her doubt, he couldn’t let it continue. “You believe in me, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Then think on it this way. I couldn’t stand before you now if there were no God. I’m here because he’s giving me a second chance to prove my worth. Thus, if you believe in me, you must believe in God.”

  The cloud faded and she smiled. “Okay.”

  He grasped her hand, holding it tight in his. Bringing a woman—his woman—into battle did not sit well, but he had no choice. Rachel’s presence would greatly influence the final outcome. Bending, he kissed her firmly on the lips. “Let’s go collect Emily.”

  They entered the dark, uneven tunnel, Stefan leading the way. The taste of dirt and dank and bat droppings closed in on them, and the path almost immediately angled sharply downward, making walking perilous and holding swords a challenge. But none of the warriors complained.

  “I can’t see anything,” Rachel grumbled. “Doesn’t anyone have a flashlight?”

  “Don’t need one,” replied Brian. “Gatherers can see in the dark.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Just hold on to the big guy; you’ll be fine.”

  Rachel’s grip on Lachlan’s hand firmed. He smiled and squeezed back.

  “What about the mage? How does he see?”

  “He doesn’t,” explained Lachlan, aware that her need to talk stemmed from a faint sense of claustrophobia. He felt it, too, and he could see. “He’s following the scent of magic.”

  They had descended some thirty or forty feet into the bowels of the earth when Stefan suddenly halted. He ran a hand through his hair, muttered a few words, then stood silent.

  Lachlan wove his way to the front of the line, Rachel in tow. “What is it?” he asked the mage.

  “I’m not entirely certain,” Stefan said slowly. “But it’s a void spell.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your body doesn’t currently house a soul, so you can’t feel the sapping sensation, but I can feel it and I bet Rachel can, too.”

  “I do. It’s cold and somehow … exhausting.”

  Lachlan stared into the dark recesses ahead. Drusus was down there, waiting for him. The demon wouldn’t have issued an invitation if he intended to lock him out, so this spell couldn’t be that formidable. And it was now twenty minutes to midnight. “Break it.”

  “I can’t. Not without invoking a void counterspell.”

  “Do it,” he snapped.

  “No.” Stefan turned to him, deep lines etched into his brow. “If you’re that determined, you do it. But a void spell requires the sacrifice of a soul, Lachlan. There’s only two down here. Who are you asking to die, Rachel or me?”

  The sharp stab of the mage’s question reached all the way to Lachlan’s toes. “Neither.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do we do now?”

  “We try to pass through it and see what happens.”

  Lachlan frowned. “That’s our best option?”

  “That’s our only option.”

  “Christ. All right, I’ll go first.” He tried to shake off Rachel’s hand, but she wouldn’t let go. “Rachel …”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No.”

  Her entire body wrapped around his arm, refusing to accept his verdict. “Drew wants me to be part of his sick grand finale; you know he does. He’s not going to kill me up here with some stupid magic spell.”

  The slight tremor in her voice told him she wasn’t as certain as she made out, but he couldn’t deny the truth of her words. Drusus did want her to be a party to his triumph. And they didn’t have the time to argue.

  He sighed. “Don’t let go of me, no matter how cold you feel or how numb your body gets. I’ll pull you through, I promise.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m latched on tight.”

  They edged past Stefan and continued down the sloping path. Lachlan’s sword began to glow a pale purple color and tiny shocks rippled up the blade to his arm. Rachel shivered violently and stumbled over a short stalagmite, but he caught her before she fell. Ten paces farther, the purple glow dissipated, and Rachel’s skin warmed under his touch.

  “We’re through,” he called back to the others. “Brian, you next. Bring Stefan.”

  The young Gatherer didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Stefan’s arm and strode down the path, sword extended. An instant later, a brilliant flash lit up the cavern and Brian flew backward, knocking over the mage.

  Lachlan’s heart seized.

  A low groan broke the breathless silence and Brian rolled over. “Fuck, that hurt.”

  “Stefan, are you all right?” Lachlan asked, relieved.

  “My hands feel like they’re frostbitten. Other than that, I’m fine.” The mage got to his feet, dusting himself off. “Well, that clears up any confusion. It’s a barrier spell.”

  Lachlan grimaced. “None but Rachel and I can pass.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  “I thought you said he wouldn’t be expecting you to bring anyone else along,” Rachel said in dismay.

  “Apparently, I was wrong.”

  Lachlan studied the dust and pebbles at his feet, his gut in turmoil. No other Gatherers meant no circle of crosses and no backup. No Stefan meant he’d have to do all his own spells. Basically, unless he managed to pull a rabbit out of a hat, this was going to be a repeat of his first, disastrous battle with Drusus.

  “You need to go back, Rachel.”

  “No.”

  “Please don’t argue,” he said quietly. “I won’t be able to protect you down there. It’ll be a bloody miracle if I save Emily. There’s no way I can look after you both.”

  “I understand.” Her voice was equally firm. “But Em is my child, my only child. I’m not going to sit back and play it safe while she faces down a demon determined to kill her. You can’t possibly believe I would do that. My life is nothing compared to hers. You made the ultimate sacrifice to save your brother, Lachlan. You must know how I feel.”

  His throat tightened painfully.

  “This is different,” he said hoarsely. “You have other options. I’m going into battle as your champion, Rachel. I will fight for Emily. I will fight for you.”

  “She’s not your daughter, Lachlan.”

  “Please.” The strands of flesh holding his heart in place ripped a little more with every beat. He closed his eyes to an unbearable vision of Rachel dying in his arms, blackened and burned, just like Carlos. “Don’t ask me to do this. Go back.”

  “I can’t. I won’t.”

  “Damn it, Rachel,” he spit out angrily. But he’d already accepted the inevitable. She wouldn’t turn around and he knew it. They were caught in the same tragic web: she u
nable to desert Emily, he unable to desert the innocent souls of his family. And even though he knew the end would crush him, he couldn’t help but take the next step down the narrowing tunnel.

  But first, he gave into a raw, selfish need.

  He snatched Rachel to his chest, buried his face in her fragrant hair, and said, “I love you. Whatever happens, don’t forget that.”

  “Okay,” she murmured softly, yielding to the embrace.

  “Uh, MacGregor?”

  Lachlan glanced back up the slope at Brian. “What?”

  “Stop wasting time. Just get down there and kill the bastard, will ya?”

  Brian’s back was to him, as were the backs of all the Gatherers. Lachlan could feel their tension.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Apparently, Drusus was worried we’d get bored while we waited. He left a little party behind to entertain us. A bunch of demons just crawled out of the walls, including the two jerks from Emily’s school and a big, badassed guy that reminds me of the Incredible Hulk. Only not as green.”

  “Can you handle them?”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Reluctant as he was to leave the others to face a mob of demons—one of which sounded remarkably like his steroid-junkie friend from the Coleman Road Bridge—Brian was right. The important battle was with Drusus. Lachlan grabbed Rachel’s hand and dove down the tunnel. “Make me proud, Webster.”

  Brian snorted.

  The demon’s lair lay deep in the belly of the mountain. Rachel sighed with relief when they entered the well-lit cavern and warm, dry air replaced the musty closeness of the tunnel. Stumbling along blindly behind Lachlan, even after he confessed that he loved her, had been unnerving.

  She squeezed his hand.

  He tossed her a quick smile, then swung his gaze to the center of the room. Under billowing swags of blue and white-striped silk, a man reclined on a velvet divan.

  Drew. But his lazy smile and gladiator costume couldn’t hold Rachel’s attention. She quickly scanned the room for a sign of Em, and gasped. Her daughter knelt in front of a fiery brass pot, garbed in a white Roman-style gown, holding the sharp point of a knife to her breast. Eyes wide open but focused on the flames, she didn’t seem aware of anything around her.