Drawn into Darkness

by Annette McCleave

  Rachel leapt toward Em, only to be held back by Lachlan’s tight hold on her hand.

  “It won’t be that easy,” he murmured.

  “It most certainly won’t,” agreed Drusus, getting to his feet. Studded leather armor covered his bright red tunic and old-fashioned leather sandals laced up his bare legs. “In fact, saving her is impossible, Rachel. She’s going to die, no matter what you do. You should just accept that.”

  Rachel glared at him. “Your entire relationship with Em is built on lies. Pardon me if I choose not to believe you.”

  “Fighting words, my dear,” the demon said, advancing toward them, the muscles of his thighs flexing with every step. There wasn’t a spare bit of flesh on the guy, anywhere. “But I’m fairly certain Lachlan won’t echo them. He knows better.”

  She glanced at Lachlan. His face reflected nothing but grim resolve, impossible to read.

  “He’s just as determined to save Em as I am,” she said.

  Drew arched a brow. “Really? Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe you should ask him.”

  Rachel stiffened at the amused tone in his voice.

  “But make your question very specific,” Drew advised. “Ask him if he came here to save Em’s life, or whether he came here to gather her soul. You do know that’s his job, right? Gathering the souls of the dead?”

  Her heart knocked like an icy lump against her ribs.

  Was it possible?

  She shut her eyes, blocking out his mocking face. No. Drew was a consummate liar. He knew exactly what to say to manipulate people into doing and saying what he wanted. She couldn’t let his insidious half-truths color her judgment.

  “I don’t need to ask him. He already told me he would fight for her, that he’s ready to die for her.”

  The demon chuckled. “Oh my, you really do have it bad. Look at his face, Rachel. Read the truth in his eyes. He knows he can’t save her. She wears the mark of Death on her cheek, and he can see it.”

  Rachel didn’t need to look. She felt the flinch ripple through Lachlan’s body, right down to her fingers.

  And despite a desperate need to shutter her thoughts, to keep from panicking, the echo of Lachlan’s voice earlier that day rang in her ears: 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. Oh God. That look he’d given her back in the motel, the darkly tormented look of guilt. It had been guilt over Em, not his brother.

  She shook her hand free of his.

  This time, he didn’t try to hold on to her.

  Numbness took over her entire body. Em was going to die. Tonight. And Lachlan was going to claim her soul.

  “He’s not the man you think he is, Rachel. Did he happen to mention how he earned his place in purgatory?”

  “The sins of greed”—Rachel glanced at Lachlan, then back at Drew—“and suicide.”

  Drew smiled. “Let’s deal with the greed for a moment. To be specific, MacGregor craved land. He wanted land so badly, he went to battle against the Campbells, killing scores of people to win a piece of land that had belonged to his family a hundred years before.”

  “He told me.”

  “Good. Then no doubt he also told you how his hated enemy got inside his heavily fortified manor house to gain his revenge.”

  Rachel glanced at Lachlan again. His eyes were closed.

  “No,” she confessed.

  “Left that little detail out, did he? Can’t imagine why. It’s such a touching part of the story.” Drew sauntered over to Emily and rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers. “He let them in.”

  Rachel’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Well, technically he let me in, but it amounted to the same thing. Against the edicts of his clan, he told a stranger about the secret water gate on the north wall and then purposely left it unlocked. Why? Because we had a deal. He got information about the movements of his enemy that enabled him to win back his land and I got … Well, let’s just say he never lived up to his end of the bargain.”

  Drew’s gaze lifted to meet hers.

  “He traded his entire family for a piece of land, Rachel. Still think he’s the kind of man who’d risk his life for yours?”

  Her tongue felt swollen.

  “Not convinced yet? I’ve got one more gem to share.” He tugged a chain free of his breastplate and held the glass vial at the end aloft. “MacGregor didn’t come here tonight for you. He’s only here to rescue this.”

  “That’s a lie.” Lachlan spoke for the first time, his voice crisp and sure.

  Drew ignored him, his jade gaze locked on Rachel. “This reliquary contains the souls of his dead wife and children. He’s been using you, Rachel. All he wants is to save his family from an eternity in hell, because his guilt is eating him alive. And rightly so.”

  She stared at the etched-glass tube. Everything he said made a sick sort of sense.

  “He’s twisting the facts, Rachel,” Lachlan said. “Don’t listen to him.”

  “Is it true?” she asked quietly, without looking at him. “Does that thing hold the souls of your wife and children?”

  “Aye, but—”

  “And did you come here to rescue them?”

  He sighed heavily. “Rachel …”

  For a long moment there was no sound in the cavern except the fluttering of the flames in the brass pot. Rachel clasped her hands together in front of her body, trying not to shiver. She didn’t want to believe Drew; she didn’t want to believe any of the horrible things he was saying. But Lachlan’s response completely undermined her resistance.

  What if it was all true?

  “Tell you what,” Drew said, smiling. “I’ll simplify things. I like you, Rachel, so I’m going to be benevolent. I’m going to let you walk out of here alive. Just turn around, go back the way you came, and you can forget this whole mess ever happened.”

  “I can’t leave, not without Em.”

  “Of course not. Take her with you.”

  “But—” Rachel studied the frozen figure of her daughter. She had that weird sense again, of being a hapless mouse in the paws of a wily cat—as if the escape were too easy.

  Drew snapped his fingers, and Em blinked. Her hands parted and the knife clattered to the stone floor. A dull, unfocused look remained on her face, but she was clearly alive.

  Still, Rachel hesitated. She glanced at Lachlan.

  “Go, Rachel,” he said, his blue eyes cool and empty. “Take Emily and leave. Drusus is right. This has always been about rescuing my family. Cruel of me to worm my way into your affections, I know, but I had to stay close to Emily. So I did what I did. My family has always come first.”

  Her pulse slowed to a funeral march. His family. Not her. Not Emily.

  “I think you knew that, deep down.”

  She blinked.

  He was right. She had known—or at least suspected. That’s why she’d experienced those heavy twinges of jealousy whenever the conversation turned to his wife and children. She’d sensed the unusual depth of his bond. She just hadn’t suspected he’d go to this much trouble—to the point of actually pretending to love her—just to get close enough to rescue them.

  How wrong she’d been.

  Her gaze slid away from Lachlan’s, dropping to the flat stone floor of the cavern. Her chest hurt, as if someone were grinding a knuckle into her sternum.

  She was such an idiot, always so engrossed in her own little world that she couldn’t see the truth, always seeing what she wanted to see, the picture postcard. Grant had never loved her; he’d loved a woman she could never be. And Lachlan never loved her, either. He had just been using her.

  Tears pooled in her eyes.

  Damn it. She’d let down her guard, let his calm, sure words gull her into hoping for the impossible. She’d fallen in love with the image, the seemingly dependable facade, only to discover that no matter how many layers she peeled away, there w
as nothing real about him. Nothing at all. She’d made the same mistake she’d made with Grant—picked the bright bow and shiny paper wrapped around an empty box.

  But never again. Handsome charmers could go to hell.

  She turned away.

  Lachlan watched Rachel escort a dazed Emily out of the cavern, disappearing into the gloom of the tunnel, this time with a flashlight Drusus had kindly conjured. The tears glistening in her eyes had damned near killed him, because he’d put them there. But he’d had no choice. She’d been hesitating when she should have run.

  And knowing she’d survive almost made it bearable.

  When the beam of the flashlight faded away, a familiar chill settled around his heart. She was gone. Once again, Drusus had succeeded in ripping away everyone he cared for.

  “Excellent.”

  He faced the lure demon.

  Drusus grinned. “Not quite as much fun as slaying her before your eyes, but a delightful amount of pain, nonetheless. And it’ll only get worse for you, my friend. Even if you survive—a highly doubtful scenario—you’ll be doomed to watch her from afar. When Em dies, as we both know she will, she’ll blame you.”

  “Better that she blame me than blame herself.”

  “Hero to the end. Bravo. Unfortunately, you won’t be around to save the day tomorrow. Em’s been a very bright pupil, a delightful protégé. She’s going to go out with guns ablaze. Literally. Taking out at least seven of her fellow classmates before she kills herself. It’ll make all the headlines.”

  And it would destroy Rachel.

  But that didn’t bear thought. Not right now.

  “Did you dress up just for show?” Lachlan asked. He waved a hand down his body, and his jeans and T-shirt were instantly replaced by the rusty red and moss green pattern of the MacGregor plaid. “Or do you actually intend to fight?”

  “Shade magic,” noted Drusus with a raised brow. “Tsk, tsk, MacGregor. What would the great man upstairs say?”

  The reliquary around the demon’s neck swayed with every move, taunting Lachlan with its proximity. Somehow, he had to steal the amulet and deliver it to the other Gatherers before Drusus killed him. “Does it matter?”

  “To you? Absolutely.” Drusus peered at him, his eyes lit with curiosity. “So, I take it you read the Book of Gnills?”

  “Cover to cover.”

  “And the other? The Book of T’Farc?”

  “Didn’t have time to read the whole thing. I focused my efforts on chapter nine.”

  The demon’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s the chapter on slaying demons,” Lachlan reminded him pleasantly.

  “I remember.” Drusus shook his head. “But you’re not fooling anyone, MacGregor. You won’t delve into dark magic. Not when every void spell swallows up a human soul. Not when the only souls close enough to sacrifice belong to Elspeth and your three children.”

  “Are you certain?” He gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of his claidheamh mòr with both hands and casually swung it back and forth in front of his body, loosening his viciously tight muscles. “Didn’t it occur to you that I might prefer to send their souls into the void than let you take them to hell?”

  The demon stilled as the jeer echoed through the chamber. But he quickly recovered. “No, you won’t use a spell that invokes God’s wrath. I know how desperately you want to walk through those pearly gates.”

  “Grab a sword. Let’s test that theory.”

  Wariness carved new lines in the demon’s brow. No doubt he was weighing Lachlan’s confidence against the arse kicking of a week ago. Finally, Drusus nodded.

  Summoning his gladius to hand, he said, “You could save their souls, you know. Your wife and children. All you have to do is give me the Linen and I’ll hand over the reliquary.”

  “I didn’t bring it.”

  “Not wise, baro. My message on Mark’s chest was very clear. You’ve not only damned your innocent family to hell, you’ve guaranteed yourself a shitload of pain. This time when I torture you, I won’t be lenient. I won’t stop until you spill your guts.” He smiled at his bon mot.

  “Won’t do you much good. At best, you’ll get a description of the Asian lad I handed it off to. But since I’ve never seen the man before and I’ve no idea who or where he is, that information won’t get you too far.”

  The demon blinked. “You gave the Linen to a stranger?”

  “After all this time, you still don’t know me very well, do you, Drusus?”

  The lure demon gathered himself, rising to full height, his muscles thick with anger. “Satan’s blood, you’re a fool. You’ll die tonight, MacGregor. A slow, excruciating death that will have you begging for mercy.”

  “Unlikely. Death told me how to defeat you.”

  “And you believed her? There is no way to defeat me. Even with void magic, you won’t win. At most, you’ll manage four good spells, while I have an endless supply of power at my disposal.”

  Lachlan stared at the swaying reliquary.

  Four good spells. Drusus was right; that’s all he’d get. But that’s all he needed. He knew the words of four particularly potent void spells by heart; he had memorized them with just this moment in mind. They weren’t the equivalent of a lure demon’s power, but they could make the difference between success and horrible, abject failure. And if he incurred God’s wrath, what did it matter? Wasn’t he destined for hell anyway?

  He closed his eyes … and shuddered at the cruel memory his brain conjured up: the shining look in Rachel’s eyes when she told him she believed in him. A faith he hadn’t earned, but had been granted anyway.

  No.

  He couldn’t use void magic.

  To Rachel, he was more than just an accumulation of his past deeds. She saw the potential in him to be a better man. She saw him as loyal and courageous and honorable, and he’d give anything to prove her right.

  Using spells born of evil intent would disgrace her … and the memories of his three children. The lure demon’s defeat must be wrought from the depths of Lachlan’s own character, not by the use of evil against evil. But to succeed, he had to truly believe he could win. He had to believe that one lonely warrior standing for justice could prevail over a demon of immense power.

  The heavy silver cross, the one Lachlan had slipped from his dying brother’s neck four hundred years ago, lay warm against his bare chest. Rachel had made a blind leap for him, and now it was his turn. He pictured Anselm Brucker’s worn leather Bible, the quiet empathy in the old man’s eyes, and the unshakeable faith in the old man’s heart.

  “There’s only one way to know for sure,” Lachlan said, smiling into the demon’s arrogant face.

  Done with the talking and more than ready to meet whatever the gods had in store, he tossed a restraining spell at Drusus and lunged with his sword.

  18

  To Rachel, the trek back up the sloping rock tunnel seemed to take twice as long as the journey down. Under the weak beam of the flashlight, the close walls and low ceiling enhanced the feeling of being trapped. Plus, the sharp upward angle and uneven ground took a physical toll. In no time both she and Em were breathing hard and clutching each other with sweaty palms.

  Every step away from the cavern was harder than the last, and Rachel’s chest burned. Fear for Em drove her forward. But thinking about that was impossible, because if Drew was hot on her heels, that would mean Lachlan was …

  She pushed on, ignoring the ache in her legs and the pounding in her head.

  By the time they reached the barrier spell, her energy was completely sapped and she was grateful there was no sign of demons. The men looked battered but triumphant. She fell to her knees as she shoved Em through the icy purple glow and into Brian’s waiting arms.

  Risking the bitter cold of the barrier, Stefan reached in, grabbed Rachel, and dragged her clear.

  “Where’s Lachlan?” Brian asked, as he rubbed Em’s bloodless arms to warm them up.

  “He stayed behind,” Ra
chel gasped, struggling to sit up.

  “Drusus let you go?”

  She nodded. “But it’s not over. We need to get Em somewhere safe. Somewhere he can’t find her.”

  Brian glanced at Stefan. “Is there such a place?”

  The mage scratched his head, thoughtful. “I think so. But I have to warn you, it’s hardly the Ritz Hotel.”

  “It’ll do. Take the rest of the guys and get the women to safety as quickly as you can,” Brian said. “I’ll wait here.”

  The mage nodded.

  “Magnus.” Brian turned to a burly warrior with wavy blond hair that grew past his shoulders. “I’m trusting you to protect these ladies with your life. Don’t let me down.”

  Then he turned to Rachel.

  “Don’t bother. I’m staying,” she said, unequivocal.

  “Rachel.” Brian frowned at her. “Lachlan will kick my ass if I let anything happen to you. I admire your courage, but what good will staying do? This is a battle that can only be fought by immortals.”

  Rachel’s breathing had slowed, but her heart still pounded. And it was her heart that refused to let her dismiss the truth.

  Yes, what she had discovered down in the cavern hurt—hurt bad. But the pain of betrayal had ebbed away on the endless climb up the slope, leaving her with one undeniable certainty—she loved Lachlan MacGregor—despite all his damned secrets, despite all his damned lies. His motivations for entering that cavern at her side might have been mixed, but they were good ones. Selfless ones. If he’d truly let Drew into the manor that night, the real blame lay at the feet of an ancient lure demon. Drew’s sly words didn’t change the facts: Lachlan had put his existence on the line to save Em—and her. How could she fault him for trying to save his family, even if it meant choosing them over her?

  “I can’t leave him to face Drew alone.”

  “He won’t be alone,” Brian pointed out. “I’ll be here.”

  “Here doesn’t really help him, though, does it?” Rachel scrambled to her feet. “You can’t pass through the barrier. I can.”

  Stefan stepped toward her, shaking his head. “What can you possibly hope to accomplish? You are an ordinary woman.”