“Betrayal…” Paige decreed.
Reflecting the soul laid bare before her, Paige recited the heinous acts of deceit and manipulation in commanding voice. Rose, no longer able to maintain the facade of her magic, morphed, revealing her true identity.
“Gwendolyn,” the tortured word tumbled from Cael. “Why?”
But Gwendolyn offered no reckoning. Enduring the wages of betrayal, Gwendolyn surrendered, collapsing in a heap under the excruciating weight of her evil. Fear resided in the eyes she raised. And mistrust. The panic of a cornered animal claimed her in its grip, the once beautiful vampire lost to madness. Curled up, no longer aware of reality, Gwendolyn remained trapped in the twisted labyrinth of her own cunning mind.
Eagen, Ewan, and Rowan captured the few remaining vampires from Conrad’s band. Cael unraveled the enchantment binding Rhys and Elinor and turned to seek Paige. She was not alone. Malcolm tended his child, holding the daughter he had believed dead for so long. Guilt weighed heavily on Cael. He’d not been prepared to see Rose, the Rose who he’d suffered over, who’d gone missing all those years ago, had deceived him all along, deceived everyone.
The very failures that prompted him to abandon his leadership role and later separate himself from others played fresh in his mind, proving that nothing had changed. If not for Paige’s conveyance with the gods and the incredible power she derived through it, she’d have been killed. His own indecision over Rose, the relief at seeing her alive, clouded his judgment long enough to put the woman he loved in danger. What kind of a mate could he be for her knowing his unforgivable failing? Her father would take care of her. She’d find a mate worthy of her love. Cael Maccinnis faded into mist, cloaking his presence so Paige could not follow. He’d never be able to deny her face to face.
Scanning the room, concern welled in Paige’s chest.
Where are you, love?
Silence was her only reply.
Cael…Hurry. I need you.
When still he made no answer, Paige understood.
He does not want to speak with me. I…my power…caused one to take his own life in brutal fashion and drove a woman he once loved to madness. He must love her still. Perhaps he hates what I did, hates me.
Page lamented, the horrible understanding dawning.
“What is wrong, daughter?” Malcolm asked gently.
Paige was pale and a pained expression haunted her face.
“I…I want to leave this place,” she insisted, a thread of hysteria tingeing her shrill tone. “I need to rest.”
“Very well. I will take you to my home,” Malcolm answered, wrapping his arm around Paige’s shoulders as she faltered. “You are weakened.”
A small voice rang clearly, the tiny hand tugging on Paige’s sleeve.
“Miss Kinnell, don’t worry. Don’t be sad.”
Paige looked wearily at the small upturned face.
“You’re a kind little girl,” she offered, squeezing the little one’s hand.
Something about the child struck a familiar chord.
“The library,” Paige said dreamily. “You’re the lost little girl from the library. And…and…the older girl is your sister. What are you doing here?”
Darkness closed in, voices fading into nothingness. Paige fell to the floor, unconscious.
Chapter Seventeen
Moss green and burnt orange tiles ornamented the walls, and Paige studied them in an attempt to remember where she was. She sat up, grabbing her head, miserable dizziness and nausea sweeping through her instantly. Retreating against the pillows she surveyed the grand room, memories of the previous day assaulting her.
Tears welled, her heart unable to contain its ache. He’d walked away, abandoned her. She wanted to hate him – to curse him – but couldn’t. She loved him, would give anything to see him walk through the door, to be in his arms. She thought to call to him in a moment of overwhelming need but quickly admonished herself.
He doesn’t want you, Paige. He made that plain when he shut himself off from you last night, and plainer still today since he’s not called to you.
Pride dueled with need; both gave way to love.
I will honor his wishes. Not matter how it hurts, I cannot blame him. He must think me a monster. Maybe I am.
Paige turned toward the wall, exhaustion and sadness swamping her senses as she sought the oblivion of sleep.
*
“I’m worried, Malcolm,” Pilar whispered, closing the bedroom door quietly behind her. “She’s done naught but sleep for days, not even waking to feed. It’s as if she’s no will to go on.”
Malcolm embraced her.
“Aye.” His response was clipped, angry. “The bluidy fool! If harm comes to my daughter from his foolishness, I’ll…”
Pilar’s finger against his lips interrupted, quieting him.
“Not so loud, Malcolm. Paige may be able to hear you.”
“Good! Be damned, anyway! If anger is the spark that rallies her, then so be it. I missed her entire life! To discover my child only to watch her waste away is more than I can accept, Pilar.” His expression softened, and he lifted Pilar in his arms. “You tire yourself too soon after your ordeal. Come. You need to feed.”
Pilar allowed him the final say, although in truth she was fine. He needed to control, to command in the face of the helplessness he felt, and she would not deny him the small triumph. Malcolm shed his worry and anger. Focused on caring for his mate, he indulged his love for the woman in his arms.
*
Shudders wracked Paige’s body; delirium threatened her hold on reality. Pain and thirst swirled in her dreams, a kaleidoscope of shifting agonies tossing her on an ocean of despair. She longed to quench the burning fire within her, to drink of Cael and be healed. Whimpering his name, Paige skirted the edges of consciousness, unable to bear the thought of feeding from any other.
From the bedside, Malcolm roared his decision.
“Enough! Paige will be delivered into The Raven’s care. Raven will have the means to persuade her to feed.”
Vacating his daughter’s chamber, Malcolm sought Rhys, who waited outside.
“My daughter will feed. Whether from Maccinnis or another, I care not. Make sure he understands, old friend. I wait for him no longer. Paige’s condition grows worse, and it is Samhain.”
Rhys nodded.
“It is time, Malcolm. Maccinnis has had long enough. Do you ken his reasons for abandoning his mate?”
“I do not. For my child’s sake I hope he comes to his senses; although, after watching her suffer these days I contemplate tearing him asunder.”
Rhys did not comment on Malcolm’s threat.
“The message will be delivered.”
Malcolm bowed, approval evident in his eyes.
“Samhain,” he uttered. “Charity gave my daughter until midnight this night. She’s walked the Netherworld but failed to complete her Awakening. She must drink before the night ends.”
Concern covered his features. His choice would ensure his daughter lived eternally. Would she accept his action as the gift he intended it to be, or see it as a sentence to live on, brokenhearted?
*
Cael stared at the bottle, the amber nectar within promising escape from his torment. Paige’s plea from earlier nearly broke his resolve, but his own failure spoke louder within his heart, steeling him against her temporary sorrow.
Cael filled the glass tumbler, downed the fiery liquid and sank back against the leather sofa. Past failures revisited, haunting him cruel as any spirit seeking release on this Samhain. Why had the Fates gifted him with Paige? After all he’d been through, what possessed him to entertain the hope of a happy ending? He kicked the coffee table, cracking the legs clean off.
Damn it all…
Rhys had delivered Malcolm’s message loud and clear. Paige would feed this night. He had a choice to make. Raking a hand through his unkempt hair, Cael hung his head, buried his face in his hands and broke down.
&n
bsp; *
“My child,” the voice thundered, commanding her attention.
Its authority overrode her delirium, suspended her pain. Paige found herself prostrate before a blinding light, the brief glimpse of gleaming splendor before she fell burned into her retinas.
“Arise,” the voice, now bearing the cadence of a wizened sage, invited.
Paige obeyed, coming to sit on the ottoman before the grandfatherly presence in the overstuffed chair as he beckoned her do.
“Is this real?” she asked.
“In a manner, yes,” he smiled kindly. “It is time we speak.”
“About what I did?” Paige squeaked out, shame prompting her to lower her eyes as tears surfaced. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone – at least I don’t think…”
“Whom did you hurt, my child? Conrad? Gwendolyn?”
“Yes,” she whispered regretfully.
“You did no such thing.”
Confusion swirled in Paige’s heart.
“But I…I…”
“You mirrored their essence. That is your gift. That they could bear not the evil in their own souls speaks no ill of you.”
“My gift? What if I hurt someone wrongly?”
Deep, rich laughter rang from the being.
“You cannot, young one. Have no fear.”
“What am I?”
Self-loathing stained her cheeks.
“Scorn not my favor,” he warned gently. “My little ones, the Fates, have allowed you the Third Fate, my rare and powerful gift. You now bring judgment, an avenging – but it is the measure with which one has meted out that one receives.”
“I reflect back onto a person what they think about or have done to others?”
“You do.”
“Why me?”
“My Fates have taken a liking to you, Paige Kinnell, especially little Jael.”
“That’s it? A childish whim decided this?” Immediately, Paige regretted her boldness. “Forgive me. I mean no disrespect, but I don’t understand. You are the Creator, the Father of Time, yet you give children the power over life and death – over the Fate of every being. Why?”
Father Time’s gaze softened. “My child, what man - what woman - could bear up under the weight of having to take a husband from his love, a beloved matriarch from the bosom of her family, a child from adoring parents? There is none wise enough to choose well who is also able to shoulder such a burden. But children, you see, live in eternal optimism, able to escape the grief of carrying out such necessary acts. There are many realms besides the mortal, my child. My little Fates can accept the goodness of them all and bring along those whose time has come to move on.”
Paige’s cheeks bore the tracks of her tears.
“I never considered it that way,” she admitted, new understanding burgeoning in her heart.
“Then why do you cry?”
“Because I’m not a child. I lost someone I love very much because of my power.”
“Have faith, my child. All will be as it should.”
Paige opened her eyes, the voices around her growing less distant as she escaped the daze of her visitation. The divan’s plush velvet caressed her skin, heightening her ache for Cael’s touch upon her flesh. Hunger consumed her grip on reality, and she whimpered, garnering the scrutiny of those caring for her.
“Rest your mind, Malcolm of Clan Gaunson,” Raven assured. “Your daughter will feed before midnight. Angus is most persuasive.”
Malcolm let out a rush of breath.
“Very well.”
“There is one more thing,” Raven added, pausing over the ancient’s daughter. “I want representation on the Council.”
Malcolm’s jaw pulsed.
“It will be as you say.”
“Then let us tend to your daughter.” Leading the way upstairs, Raven glanced over her shoulder. “Bring her. Time grows short.”
*
Anna Kinnell sipped her coffee alone at the Garrow brothers’ breakfast bar. Brooke and Lara slept upstairs. The vampire brothers brought them here after the confrontation, now three days past. Anna understood she was free to go.
Claiming the need for further protection, Ewan and Eagen insisted that Brooke and Lara remain. It was her worst nightmare come true. The look in both vampires’ eyes told Anna the truth. They wanted her daughters.
What could she do? She’d lost Paige. Would she now be forced to endure the loss of Brooke and Lara as well? She sighed heavily, feeling beyond her fifty-eight years. Neither of the girls had spoken much since the other night, and Anna feared the vampires had already begun to alter her daughters’ perceptions of their kind. Anna confessed the truth to her girls, all of it this time, her burden becoming theirs as well. Their shock and disappointment she understood, expected. Now, she could only hope they’d find it in their hearts to forgive her.
*
Angus entered the chamber, the petite woman on the bed clearly in need of blood. What circumstances led to her condition he didn’t know, didn’t want to know. Attachments were dangerous.
Damn, this one is in a bad way.
“Och! My wee loove,” Angus soothed, “everything is gonna be all right soon.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Angus rested his palms on the lass’ flushed skin and sought her torment. He closed his eyes, finding what he needed, extracting Paige’s pain and taking into into his soul. It was never easy, but he’d grown accustomed, the stories the same. Abandonment, betrayal, loss – they blurred into one. Angus had a gift – or a curse - depending on perspective. He was a pain eater.
An hour later, Angus purged himself of the heavy burden he’d drawn from the female. She rested quietly on the bed, settled for the moment. She would feed now, lulled with the peacefulness his withdrawal afforded. He’d feed as well. It was the one beauty of his job.
Once he seduced her, once she succumbed to the thirst, Angus would cloud her memory of him, speak the enchantments that would remove his memory of her as well, and be gone. He didn’t want to be remembered – nor to remember.
“Waken, wee loove. Sate yer terrible thirst.” Angus bent, brushing his lips across the silken skin of the tiny blond’s forehead. “No more pain tonight – fer either of us,” he whispered, joining her on the bed.
Paige drifted into awareness, the resonant timbre of the man’s voice drawing her further awake.
“Cael? Have you come back to me?” she asked, confused by the presence next to her.
“I’ll be whoever ye want me to be, loove,” Angus cooed.
“Ye be the man leavin’ this place,” Cael growled grabbing Angus from the bed roughly.
“Who do ye think ye are, man?” Angus returned, standing firm over the woman he had agreed to help.
“I’m her bonded mate,” Cael ground out, trying unsuccessfully to temper his anger.
“It’s ye that left her so, then, Highlander?” Angus challenged.
“That’s nay yer concern. I’m here now.”
“Where were ye when the lass was sufferin’? Do ye ken how fragile her condition is?”
“Bluidy hell, man! I ken. And the sooner ye leave – the sooner I can tend to her.”
Angus made to argue on, but the door opened revealing Malcolm, anger evident on the ancient’s face.
“Maccinnis, you have returned?”
Malcolm gave no indication that he was pleased.
“Aye.”
“And when will you abandon her next? Leave others to deal with the wounds you cause?”
Cael had no defense.
“Ye have no reason to believe me, Malcolm. If it makes a difference, I thought she’d be better off without me, and I still believe it so. It be me that canna live without her, me that needs her…If she’ll still have me.” Cael shook inside, his admission humbling. “I love her, Malcolm.”
Malcolm’s lip curled in the hint of a smile. He was satisfied with Cael’s confession. Clapping Angus on the back, he led the pain eater toward the door.
&nb
sp; “Angus, let us seek Raven and find ease for you, boy. The Maccinnis has finally come to his senses.”
The door latched, Cael at last alone with Paige. Climbing into the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She stirred, eyes fluttering open.
“I was dreaming of you,” she said weakly. Her green eyes were dull and drowsy. “Why did you leave me?”
Pain evident in her voice, Paige lowered her eyes, afraid of what he’d answer.
“I was a fool, Paige. I let ye down, put ye in danger,” his voice broke with emotion. “I couldna face my failure, was convinced I wasna good enough for ye. I’m still unsure. But when I thought of ye with another, I couldna bear it, lass.”
Tears shimmered in Paige’s eyes, and she reached to cup his face.
“I thought you hated me for what I did to Conrad and Gwendolyn.”
“Nay, Paige. I hated myself. Can ye forgive me?”
“Cael, I love you. All of you. You asked me to give myself completely. I’m asking you to do the same.”
Cael claimed her lips, grasping her tightly, the fullness of his love made plain in the ferocity of his kiss.
“Aye, lass,” he hummed against her cheek.
Paige looked up at him, hunger awakening in the depths of her eyes.
“Ye need to drink,” he encouraged, the words dying out as Paige sank her teeth into his flesh.
His rough groan reverberated in the room, unity and pleasure negating the need for further speech. Cael willed their clothes gone, craving the touch of her flesh against his heated skin. Rolling Paige beneath him, Cael joined with her, savoring the pleasures of bonded mates, fully surrendered, fully committed. The Fates had known what they were doing all along, he realized. They’d gifted him with love.
The stroke of midnight, Samhain, Paige’s birthday, passed quietly, the lovers entwined, thirst sated and desire spent. After years of living a borrowed, bartered life, Paige rested against Cael’s chest, for the first time confident that her Fate - the Third Fate – truly was her own.
The End…
The Third Fate Page 17