HauntedLaird

by Tara Nina

  Though his plan to destroy the statues had taken a different path, he still planned to rid the world of this particular MacKinnon clan. The one-brother-at-a-time strategy had not been successful. Now he hungered to annihilate them all in one dastardly blow or at least most of them for now and the other three once they were found. He grinned. With that completed, the monks who hid and protected the Book of Shadows would have no choice but to fulfill his ancestor’s dying wishes.

  Whoever shall vanquish Clan MacKinnon shall be thy keeper o’ thy Book o’ Shadows for all eternity.

  A big book chock full of black magic spells and an eternity to practice them all on an unsuspecting world. Now that was a dream come true. Brother Leod’s maniacal laughter bounced off the walls. He had no worry of anyone hearing him. Where they were located was a long-forgotten station on a pier once used for ferries across the water. The ferries stopped years ago and the pier’s dire need of repairs condemned it for use. Use by anyone else, that is. Leod grinned as he lifted the edge of the dirty curtain that hung over the smudged and broken window.

  Not a person within line of sight or earshot. This place was perfect for what he had in mind. A Viking send-off of sorts for a Scottish clan of brothers.

  Chapter Eleven

  Images of her kept him sane while condemned to stone. Her beauty filled the space behind his eyes and calmed him when otherwise his mind would have revolted against its prison as the walls closed in on him. Lynn’s smile brought him inner joy and the wonders of her body set his imagination ablaze with sexual scenarios he wanted to experience with her. Thinking of the bed he’d seen in the room before his eyes closed fueled his desire to explore Lynn’s supple shape in every position possible.

  Och. His body may not have the ability to react but his mind hummed with vibrant visions of him and her naked, wrapped together as one. He knew if he were not cursed, his cock would be more solid than the stone that held him tight at that moment. He hungered to taste her lips the second he was set free. And if he were a lucky man, he’d sample the flavor of the haven between her thighs if she allowed him. In the throes of passion, he bet she tasted sweeter than the bee’s honey.

  Pleasure. He wanted nothing more than to bring her to her pleasure time and time again before he entered her, bringing them both to the precipice of desire only to tumble into the abyss of glorious release. His bawls hung heavy between his thighs, desperate to spill his seed deep within Lynn’s treasure.

  She wasn’t an innocent yet she seemed innocent to him in many ways. Her beautiful blush turned him on with each touch or kiss he had given her. The heat in her eyes spoke of experience and added to his growing excitement about this provocative woman. He wanted to read her like his favorite book, learning something new each flip of the page, and keep her high upon a shelf to savor repeatedly and protect from harm. His heart grew thinking about her.

  Padon woke to unfamiliar surroundings. Instantly, he knew Lynn was no longer near. From the smell in the air, he knew he was close to water but how did he get there? And where was Lynn? He drew his sword and moved cautiously. The floor beneath him creaked and he stopped. Silence was important if he wanted to survey his location without being seen.

  He took a breath and placed his next step carefully. With precise actions, he made his way to the window, lifted the dirty curtain and peeked out. Night had fallen, which he knew since he was free. Bars covered the windows and the glass from the panes was missing or broken. Was he in a prison of sorts? Lights darted along the coastline of a river. Which river, he couldn’t be certain, considering he didn’t know where he’d been taken.

  The door behind him creaked and he spun around, readying for attack, sword held poised to protect himself. The sight of the man who entered took him by surprise. The man was dressed from head to toe in the guise of a monk. Was he or wasn’t he a man of the cloth? The last time a man in such attire stood before him, Padon and his brathairs had been cursed. Now he chose to side with caution and kept his wits about him and his suspicions geared on high.

  “Who are ye?” Padon demanded, not taking his eyes off the odd-looking man.

  “I am Brother Leod.” He brushed the hood from his head and Padon stiffened.

  The left side of his face was marred. His ear lay folded over. His cheek was a crinkled mess and his left eyebrow no longer existed. This man had suffered a bad burn, which scarred half his face while leaving the right side untouched. From the untouched side, he appeared to have been a handsome man at some point in his past. His eyes contained an eerie golden-wheat color and gut instinct told him not to stare into them for any length of time. They did not look real. There would be no trusting this individual.

  Padon cleared his throat. He recognized the name as an associate of Timothy’s and Lonnie’s, but decided it best to keep that knowledge to himself. “Where have ye brought mi? And why? Where be Lynn?”

  A sinister smile upturned the supposed monk’s lips and Padon sensed trouble lived within this one. He was no man of the cloth.

  “You need not worry about this Lynn person. I’d be more concerned about your family and yourself.” He waved a hand in the air and heat filled the room. With each fluid motion, the temperature increased.

  Sweat beaded Padon’s brow, but he refused to back down or believe this man held the ability to control the weather. It had to be a trick of some sort. In the car, Lynn had shown him a system that made it warm or cold, depending on the passenger’s needs. Was he somehow operating a similar object he had hidden within his robe? Padon stood steady and watched for the opportune moment to turn the events in his favor.

  The door opened more and a rather large man with red hair walked in to stand behind Brother Leod. Padon chose to move, placing both men in the direct path of his sword should the need to use it arise. Neither appeared to be carrying a weapon. And if Brother Leod thought for a second that his childish tricks would alarm him, then Leod was mistaken. It took more than a bit o’ heat ta unnerve him.

  The large redhead pulled his shoulders back and flexed his thick biceps. Padon’s lip curled at the corner. Preening for a fight only showed one’s weaknesses. Padon held fast his position, ignoring the sweaty sensation coating every ounce of flesh, including his palms. When the oversized oaf took a step toward Padon, he twirled the sword, showing he had the skill of a true swordsman. The guy’s eyes widened but he wasn’t bright enough to adhere to the warning. He lunged, trying to take him out at the waist by wrapping his arms around Padon. Seeing the man had no visible weapon, Padon chose not to run him through with the sword.

  The impact caused him to take a step back to steady himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Brother Leod sidestepped toward the desk, flipped it on its side and stood behind it as if he would use it as a shield to crouch behind if need be. Coward. Not a valiant quality in a supposed leader of men.

  Padon swung around, throwing the redhead off balance, then brought his fist along with the hilt of his sword against his attacker’s head. It was an efficient-enough blow to cause the man’s arms to instantly release him as he fell with a heavy thud to the floor. But he wasn’t out, simply stunned and dazed. He staggered to his feet and started swinging aimlessly. Not one blow connected with Padon, who had sheathed his sword and took to hand-to-hand since the man was armed with neither a weapon nor wits.

  A right, then a left whooshed past Padon’s face as he bobbed from side to side. “Mi piuthar fights better than ye,” Padon taunted and watched confused anger tighten his opponent’s features. It seemed too easy with this one, to the point he should feel guilty, but he didn’t. It’d been way too long since he’d had a good brawl and though this guy lacked adequate fighting skills, it was better than nothing.

  The man growled and threw his heavy body weight behind his next series of punches. Padon caught his fists in his hands, grinned at the man’s shocked expression then headbutted him. The redhead’s eyes crossed and he dropped to his knees. Padon let go of his hands and the man didn’t m
ove. He sat there dazed and confused, rocking from side to side in super-slow motion.

  He took a step away from his opponent, knowing the fight was over. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of light had him spinning to face Brother Leod. His jaw dropped as he saw the man’s fingertips glowing right before a ball of flames shot at him. He tried to dodge it but wasn’t quick enough. It hit him in the shoulder with such force he was knocked off his feet and landed hard on his back. Burning pain made his arm twitch uncontrollably. He grabbed his elbow to try to stop it. The back of his head hurt from where it had collided with the floor but he had no time for aches and pains no matter how severe. He had a demon to kill.

  Dragging himself to his feet, he released his arm and drew his sword with his uninjured hand. Intense heat filtered through the steel and the blade seemed to glow red-hot, but he held tight though his palm begged him to release it. The evil man stood between him and the injured redhead who crawled from the room. Leod stepped backward each time Padon took a step in his direction. It was obvious he was working his way to the door as soon as his companion had cleared it. Once they both were in the hallway, the door slammed shut between Padon and his enemies.

  “Run, ye cowards,” Padon shouted through the wooden door as he heard the locks click in place.

  “I am no coward,” Brother Leod stated clearly and loudly. “I chose to keep you alive as bait for your brothers. Soon I shall succeed in ridding the world of your despicable clan where my ancestor miserably failed.”

  Padon pressed his ear against the door and heard the echo of Brother Leod’s footsteps fade away. The heat in his sword instantly disappeared. He straightened. Looking at his hand, there were no permanent burns, simply an ache from holding fast to the hilt. A trick. The bastard had played some form of mind trick on him, making him believe his sword had become too painfully hot to hold. He gritted his teeth in anger that he’d fallen for such a childish prank.

  Rolling his shoulder, he noted that was not a trick. His skin was reddened but not blistered. It had not actually burned, just singed him. He glared at the locked door. It had been more of a force to knock him down rather than set him on fire. Padon spun on his heels and paced the room. How did this demon control such magic?

  He growled beneath his breath, trying to release his anger. An angry mind gained no ground in a fight. He needed to think clearly. Breathing deep, he did his best to soothe his angst as he sorted his thoughts.

  He’d learned from Jasper that three of his brathairs were freed from the curse. And if his enemy were to be believed, they were headed for a trap and he was the bait. Not if he could help it. His brathairs had suffered before because he had failed to kill MacGillivray on that fateful day.

  That would not happen again, not now. Not as long as he still breathed.

  * * * * *

  Lynn fidgeted at the end of the bar. A big, floppy straw hat covered her head and she wore a comfortable flowery dress with a pair of sandals. All the items came from a local thrift shop. Fin and Travis took her shopping to buy clothes with a regional flair to help with her disguise. They wanted her to blend in with the regulars at this particular bar in Edinburgh. It’s where their little adventure began and where they felt most certain to find Timothy, or at least information on his whereabouts.

  According to Travis, Timothy’s mom hadn’t seen him in months and suggested they try the jail or that deadbeat friend of his, Lonnie’s place. From his explanation and expression, she could tell he was glad that call was behind him. According to him, Timothy’s mom carried a lot of dislike for her own child. It must have been bad because he made a promise to visit his own mom as soon as this was over.

  Lynn said a silent prayer when she thought of Lonnie. Apparently Mr. MacIntyre’s connections through this society to protect Clan MacKinnon ran deep. Three police officers came, collected the body and took care of the situation. Seemed Lonnie had a long rap sheet to the point his death wasn’t going to draw a huge investigation. The officers moved his body to the apartment he shared with Timothy and claimed they found it there. Since Timothy couldn’t be located, he was their number-one suspect.

  She didn’t like that they twisted the story, but they did it to protect the society. And to keep her out of an investigation that would probably detain her in Scotland for months. As it was, she had a little over a week left of her vacation and she hoped to spend it with Padon.

  If they found him. Don’t think like that. She stared into her cup of tea. They were going to find him. He was alive. She just knew it. Something in her gut gave her hope that Padon had not been smashed, that he lingered in his cursed state and at nightfall, he’d awaken. This she believed and the closer it got to dusk the more on edge she became, waiting for that strange tingle down her spine and the electric sizzle in the air she associated with the magic that shattered the stone.

  She glanced around. This was where it all started. The pub where Travis spun his tall tale about an ancient ghost in a cave deep within the Grampian Mountains, and she believed it. What would have happened if she hadn’t believed him? Padon would still be trapped in a stone casket lost in the depths of a cave. She sighed. But at least he’d be safe, not stolen like a piece of property and in danger of being smashed to a pulp like he was now. Lynn took a sip of her tea and did her best to calm her nerves. She needed to keep it together if this plan was to work. Unfortunately it all hinged on Timothy.

  Travis and Fin were separated and hidden at opposite corner tables of the bar. If she didn’t know they sat there, she wouldn’t have seen them due to the low light in those areas and the sizable crowd milling about the place. Oh lordy she prayed this worked. If they were right and Timothy was a creature of habit, then he would show up, right? Lynn forced her hand not to shake as she sipped her tea and sat perusing the crowd for any sign of the man.

  Out the front window, she saw the last rays of sun dart behind the buildings. Warmth filled her as a familiar sensation sizzled through her. Padon was awake. She sensed it with every fiber of her being. Lynn held her cup with both hands and smiled into it. With him alive, there was hope for finding him or him escaping and returning home on his own. He was strong and she had no doubts that if he escaped, he’d make his way back to a familiar place, Castle MacKinnon. She sat straight with the cup still in hand as an idea struck.

  Did he have to be near for her to feel the strange electricity in the air?

  The door opened and time seemed to stop. The crowd disappeared and nothing mattered but the lanky man standing in the doorway. Timothy McFae walked in the place as if he owned it.

  Lynn tilted her head so the hat’s broad brim hid her face. She kept her head at just enough of an angle that she could still keep an eye on him in the mirror behind the bar. Not sure if the other two had seen him, she gave them the decided-upon signal. She reached her left arm up in a stretching motion and touched a lighted sign. She pressed the button at the bottom and it went out for a second before she turned it on again. Since where Travis sat was in her direct line of sight, she saw him slink out of the corner and disappear into the crowd. Without looking to her right, she knew Fin had done the same.

  She lowered her gaze when Timothy turned up at her side. Using the hat as her shield, she made sure he couldn’t see her face. It didn’t appear as if he recognized her when he ordered his drink then turned his back to her and started chatting up the lady on his other side. He was so busy bragging that he’d recently come into a huge sum of money he didn’t see Travis and Fin box him in.

  Travis leaned in on the opposite side of the lady and whispered something in her ear. She gasped, slapped Timothy’s face then spun on her heels and left. Lynn could only imagine the horrible secret Travis shared with the woman to garner such a reaction. They knew the moment he regained his focus and realized what had happened. Timothy’s eyes widened and his hand dropped from his cheek and automatically became a fist.

  “I wouldn’t do that.” Lynn stretched from the barstool to whisper in
Timothy’s ear. She made sure he felt what she pressed into the small of his back. “You’d hate it if my finger slipped and made a mess of your back.”

  He did exactly as she hoped and dropped his hands to his sides. She continued to press the barrel into his back. Fin moved in closer to his side.

  “The society would like ta have a few words with you,” Fin stated, staring him down.

  “I no longer belong ta the society,” Timothy proclaimed, trying to hold his ground against the three of them, but Lynn heard the fear in his voice.

  “You got that right,” Fin snapped. “But we have a way o’ dealing with traitors and when we’re done, the police want a crack at you for the death o’ Lonnie. If there’s anything left o’ you.”

  Timothy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He darted a glance around but no one looked his way.

  “That’s right,” Travis stated calmly. “No one’s going ta help you. Now let’s be walking out the door without any incidences.” He nodded toward Lynn. “We wouldn’t want the lass ta trip and her finger ta slip, now would we?”

  The moment they exited the bar, a plain white van pulled up to the curb in front of them. Timothy gasped when the side door slid open and several young men from the society stepped out. They surrounded the group.

  “It be okay ta put that thing away now, lass,” Fin’s grandfather said as he worked his way to stand face-to-face with Timothy.

  “Oh, yes,” Lynn replied cheerfully. “Just let me do my lips first, they’re a bit parched.”

  Timothy’s face fell when he saw she didn’t have a small pistol but a tube of lipstick. His cheeks reddened and a fierce snarl rumbled from him as he watched her coat her lips then tuck it away in the pocket of her sundress.

  “Timothy,” Thicket MacIntyre stated sternly. “You have but one chance ta make an honest man out o’ yourself. Tell us where the MacKinnon be.”