by Donna Grant
“A year when you could have found someone else. I wish I felt the same for you as you do for me, but I won’t lie to myself or you.”
Silence filled the small entry as Mitchell refused to look at her. Danielle shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to do next. She had hurt him, the very thing she hadn’t wanted to do.
“I cannot do this,” Mitchell said softly. “I cannot go with you tonight and pretend we’re just friends and that everything is all right when it’s no’.”
Danielle nodded. “I understand. I wish you the best, Mitchell.”
He still didn’t look at her when she opened the door to leave. With one last glance at him, Danielle stepped back into the cold.
The door closed with a loud click behind her as she looked over the snow-covered city. How had her life gotten so messed up? At twenty-six she had thought she’d be married by now.
Instead, she was alone.
She’d always been alone. Since the night her parents died in that awful car crash and she had been brought to Scotland she had been alone.
Danielle raised her chin and squared her shoulders. Alone or not, she was going to Blink to ring in the New Year. It would be so crowded no one would know she hadn’t come with friends.
She carefully walked down the icy steps and onto the sidewalk. About halfway to her car she heard a door open and turned to watch Mitchell leave his flat, get into his car, and drive away.
It was good that he wasn’t staying inside. He needed to get out and find someone.
Danielle was nearly to her car when a group of young boys came running down the sidewalk. She tried to get out of the way, but one of them slammed into her shoulder, sending her spinning around.
The heel of her stiletto boots slid on a patch of ice and her feet flew out from underneath her. Danielle landed hard on her side, her arm trapped beneath her.
“Bloody Hell,” she murmured.
She took a moment to get her bearings and make sure nothing was broken. Her skirt had rucked up, leaving a section of her bare thigh exposed and touching the snow and ice.
Danielle would be lucky if she got out of this without catching a cold. She knew she shouldn’t have worn the black dress in this weather, but it wasn’t as if she had expected to spend a lot of time in the snow.
She pushed up on her elbow and blinked her eyes. She must have hit her head because everything was spinning. When she was able to open her eyes without feeling dizzy, Danielle found herself at the edge of the sidewalk next to a tire.
It was the flash of something shiny that grabbed her attention.
A shiver of trepidation raced down her spine, and though every fiber of her body told her to pretend she didn’t see it, she knew she couldn’t.
Hesitantly, Danielle reached into the snow, brushing it aside. In the dirt, grime, and ice, next to the curb was a key. A very old key by the look of it.
Danielle took a deep breath before she picked it up. Instantly, a vision of a castle at the edge of a cliff slammed into her.
“MacLeod Castle,” a voice inside her head said.
With her hand fisted around the key, Danielle climbed to her feet and leaned with her other hand against the car next to her.
“Tomorrow. I will bring you to this MacLeod Castle tomorrow.”
The pain curled up from the base of her spine, slowly at first, and then grew until Danielle bent over with her arm wrapped around her stomach.
“Now. I will go now,” she bit out urgently.
When an object was in a rush to get to its destination, it meant it was of great importance. It had been over a year and a half since Danielle’s magic had found something.
She wished she hadn’t discovered the key. Because deep down inside, she knew nothing good could come of this. Because somehow she knew her life would be changed forever.
With Danielle’s capitulation the pain ebbed until it dissipated completely. And just as before, Danielle’s magic told her where to take the key.
“East I go,” she mumbled with sarcasm. “I’m so glad I didn’t have plans.”
She carefully picked her way to her car, and once behind the wheel, she put the key in her coat pocket.
“East. Go east. To MacLeod Castle,” the voice repeated over and over in her mind.
“So much for my night of celebrating.”
And wouldn’t you know the car started on the second try.
CHAPTER
TWO
Somewhere in the Highlands
Ian’s eyes flew open as he lay perfectly still inside the dark, dank cave he had called home for … months. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.
Nor did he care.
He didn’t move, didn’t even blink as he listened. The only sound that met his ears was the shrill noise of the howling wind. But for an instant, he could have sworn he’d heard his brother’s voice.
More and more he heard Duncan calling to him, beckoning him to leave the mountain.
Ian scrubbed a hand down his face and sat up. His breath billowed white before his face. A glimpse through the cave’s entrance showed Ian the sun had risen on another day.
How many days had he lost this time? It could have been hours or weeks that his god, Farmire, had had control. As awful as that was, Ian feared what Farmire had done while he’d been in control.
It was one of the reasons Ian made his home in such a remote place. The farther his god had to go to appease his need for blood and death, the less likely Ian was to harm someone.
At least that was his hope.
Ian dropped his head back against the jagged rock of the cave and squeezed his eyes shut. By all that was holy he’d never felt so isolated, never been so desolate in all his two-hundred-plus years.
And it was only going to get worse. So much worse.
Ian thought of MacLeod Castle and the people who had become a family to him. He missed the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs, the aroma of freshly baked bread, and the laughter as they all sat in the great hall and ate.
He missed the other Warriors.
But most of all he missed his brother.
Ian rose to his feet and walked to the cave’s opening and looked out. Everything as far as he could see was covered in a thick blanket of white so blinding he had to squint to look at it.
There were no footprints leading to or from the cave, and since it wasn’t snowing now, maybe Ian hadn’t ventured from his hideout.
If only he could remember … But there were huge holes in his memory whenever his god took over. Though he tried to get control over his god, Farmire was too powerful. Also, Ian’s grief over losing his twin had only allowed Farmire to gain the upper hand in the first place.
Duncan.
No one had understood the bond between Ian and Duncan. As twins, they had shared everything. If Duncan was hurt, Ian felt his pain. If Ian had needed Duncan, he’d been there without Ian having called for him.
The fact they had also shared a god only strengthened their bond.
Ian remembered when they’d had their god unbound. It had been Deirdre, an evil Druid, or drough, who had caught them and unbound their god.
The pain had been excruciating, unimaginably agonizing, with their bones popping and muscles shredding as the god stretched inside them. But it had been nothing compared to the strength of the god now bellowing inside Ian’s mind.
No longer was Ian able to share Farmire’s greedy and insatiable hunger for battle with Duncan. Now, Ian had to contend with it all on his own.
And he was losing badly.
Ian recalled how he and Duncan had found a way to gain control over their god together. It hadn’t been easy, but they’d had each other.
Even locked deep in the depths of Deirdre’s mountain prison, they’d learned to face whatever came their way. Together.
It had been Deirdre who had taken Duncan’s life. It had been Deirdre who had taken the only brother Ian had ever known.
And it had been Deirdre who
had put Ian in the predicament he was in now. The drough had known exactly what she was doing when she killed Duncan. She’d known Ian would then get the full powers of his god—and the full rage.
Many Warriors never learned to control their god, and the god soon took over. Which is what Deirdre wanted in her quest to rule the world.
Ian had been a proud man growing up in his clan. He’d even been a proud Warrior, despite the primeval god inside him.
Now, he hid away from the world because he couldn’t rule his god. He wondered what Duncan would think of him. Would his twin scorn him? Would Duncan pity him?
Ian scratched his head and felt the long, dirty strands of his hair. The hair felt foreign to him. Ever since they’d been young lads, Ian had kept his hair shorn close to his head to help others tell him and Duncan apart.
The last time he’d cut his hair was before Duncan had left with Logan on their mission to find an artifact that would help them destroy Deirdre once and for all.
They had killed Deirdre once already when they’d rescued the youngest MacLeod brother, Quinn, from her clutches. Though they had killed her body, they hadn’t destroyed her soul.
“Unfortunately,” Ian mumbled.
Ian thought of the Druids and the pivotal role they’d played in the lives of every Briton beginning thousands of years before. The Druids had been the ones to rule the land, not kings or clan leaders.
There were two sects of Druids. The mies, or good Druids, whose magic came from the earth and elements. And the droughs, who, upon reaching their eighteenth year, gave their souls to Satan in order to command black magic.
It had been the droughs who had called up the primeval gods from Hell to help the Celts send Rome from their shores. Those gods had inhabited the strongest warriors from each family, creating immortal Warriors with the strength and power of the god that had taken them.
When the droughs couldn’t send the gods back to Hell with their magic alone, it had taken both the droughs and the mies to bind the gods to the Warriors.
Since Deirdre hunted and killed both droughs and mies in order to steal their magic and increase hers, there were few Druids left in Britain. Those that remained stayed hidden.
Ian had never felt animosity, never allowed himself to hate as he did Deirdre. His loathing grew each day his god took control of him. Because Ian knew that once Farmire was in complete control, Ian would be Deirdre’s.
“I’ll kill myself first,” Ian stated, his hands fisting at his sides.
“Nay, brother. You need to live.”
Ian didn’t acknowledge Duncan’s voice, though it sounded as if his brother stood right next to him. It was just proof that Ian was going daft.
At least he was alone and his friends at MacLeod Castle wouldn’t have to watch as Farmire slowly pulled him under.
But Ian missed the other Warriors.
He missed Fallon MacLeod’s calm leadership. He missed Ramsey’s infinite knowledge, Logan’s teasing, Hayden’s eagerness for battle, and Arran’s steadfast friendship.
He missed Quinn MacLeod’s recklessness, Lucan MacLeod’s easy laughter, Galen’s constant eating, Broc’s silent gaze, and Camdyn’s quiet presence.
There was also Larena, the only female Warrior and Fallon’s bride.
Then there were the Druids. The MacLeods had welcomed all Warriors fighting against Deirdre into their castle, but they had also made it a sanctuary for Druids.
The MacLeods had turned their ruin of a castle into a home once more. It was a place where no matter what you were, you were welcome to sit at their table and share a meal.
It helped that Ian, Duncan, and Arran had stood by Quinn while they’d been trapped in Deirdre’s mountain. Ian had known as soon as he saw Quinn that the Warrior was someone important.
Ian thought back to when he first met Quinn. Quinn had been battling his own god at the time. There had been instances, Quinn admitted, when he had nearly given in to his god.
It was too bad Quinn wasn’t with him now to help Ian win this constant battle of wills with Farmire.
Even if Ian hadn’t been snatched from MacLeod Castle, he knew he would have left. Only a fool would stay and endanger all that they had worked to protect.
And Ian wasn’t a fool.
“Brother, you must eat. You will need your strength to battle Farmire. The weaker you are, the more control he has.”
Ian knew Duncan was right, but to get food meant he would have to leave the cave. But the voice in Ian’s head, whether it was his brother or not, was correct.
He did need to keep up his strength to fight Farmire. Not that Ian thought he had a chance at gaining the control over his god he’d once had, but he wasn’t going to go without a fight.
Ian glanced down at his kilt and the large red and green plaid covered in mud and muck. He needed a bath as well. Which, in the cold, was going to be grueling.
The freezing temperatures wouldn’t kill him because of his immortality, but it might help to keep his god away for a while.
With his first ghost of a grin in days, Ian stepped out of the cave.
CHAPTER
THREE
Danielle gripped the steering wheel with both hands. She barely made it out of Inverness before her Mini sputtered and then just died.
It had taken an hour and a call to a mechanic to fix it. There went two hundred pounds of her money.
At least the car was running now, but with the wind and the snowfall, she couldn’t make up the lost time by driving faster. Despite her wishing that she could.
At that moment her car hit a patch of ice and fishtailed. With her heart in her throat, Danielle was able to get control of the car once more.
Maybe she should have taken the mechanic’s advice when he suggested she get new tires before traveling. Regardless, it was too late now.
Her more pressing worry was finding a place to stop for the night. The radio station she’d been listening to confirmed Whitney’s report of a massive storm coming their way.
Danielle didn’t want to be on the roads late at night with such a storm. Yet it was New Year’s Eve. Most places would be completely filled.
She hadn’t slept in her car in years, and the one time hadn’t been a good one. The last thing Danielle wanted to do was repeat that night. But she might not have a choice.
Minutes ticked by, reminding Danielle that she could be having a nice dinner and then dancing the night away until the clock struck midnight.
The quick bite she’d grabbed had tasted so awful she’d only eaten half the sandwich. Now she was starving and in the middle of nowhere.
As the song on the radio finished, she turned up the volume when the announcer began to speak.
“Breaking News Inverness! The YouTube video of those small, yellow creatures that hit the Web almost four months ago is no’ a fake. It appears as if these wee beasts are indeed real. They’ve been spotted all over Scotland in the past few days. And believe it or no’, one was caught today. They are vicious wee mongrels, so doona approach one lest they tear you in two with their claws and sharp teeth.”
“Wonderful,” Danielle said as she turned the volume back down. “Every day more dire predictions and announcements. No wonder everyone thinks the world is coming to an end.”
Suddenly, the brake lights from the car in front of her flared. Danielle immediately let off the gas and hoped it slowed her, but as they were going down the mountain, it wasn’t enough.
With all the snow and ice, she didn’t dare slam on the brakes. But as she drew closer and closer to the car she had no choice.
Danielle slowly pressed on the brakes. The car behind her, however, didn’t. It rammed her, which propelled her into the car in front of her.
She swerved the wheel to try and miss the car, but the screech of metal as her font bumper hit the vehicle told her she’d failed. Before she could register that she’d hit the car, she screamed when her Mini began to spin as it continued its downhill descent. All Danielle co
uld do was hold on to the steering wheel and pray no one else hit her.
It felt as if she spun for an eternity. She closed her eyes, her stomach pitching from the intensity of the spin. Danielle had no idea if she was still on the road or not. Finally, the Mini came to a rest. Danielle opened her eyes just in time to see headlights coming at her entirely too fast.
She lifted her arms and turned her face away an instant before the vehicle plowed into her.
* * *
Ian sat with his back against the cave wall and his arms locked around his knees. He thought over the day as he watched the deer slowly cook.
He’d left the cave and ventured to the loch that was down the mountain. Ian had made certain he encountered no one, and in this weather, he knew the possibility was slim.
The loch had been frozen. He’d had to punch through the ice in order to get in to bathe. The water had left him feeling more alert than he could remember, which could be the reason why he’d only blacked out for a few moments that day.
The day had been a good one, he supposed. Except for the blackout. It had happened right after he’d killed the buck and begun to skin the animal.
The sight of all that blood had sent his god into a frenzy. As soon as he’d felt himself slipping into Farmire’s control Ian had gotten angry. He’d fought and wrestled hard to keep a grip on his mind and body.
He had won, but barely. Every time he battled Farmire it became more and more difficult to win, each time more exhausting and the blackouts lasting longer.
How much time did he have before he didn’t awaken from a blackout? Before Farmire took over completely?
Ian didn’t want to think of it, but it was the reality of his life now and he needed to face the facts. His time was short, that he knew.
Somehow he’d been more himself this day than he had in months. His god would return with a vengeance, and though Ian knew his time was limited, he wouldn’t go without a fight. He owed that much, at least, to his brother. If it meant Ian needed to dive into the frigid loch every day he would do so.