by Claudy Conn
Lamia was talking out loud. A madness had taken her, and she was scratching at her arms, roaming in circles around the room.
Shamon came in and took her by the hand. He called her name and said sweet things. He called her back to herself. He told her of her greatness, of all her powers. He told her to come with him upstairs where he would soothe her.
After a time, Lamia did as he asked. She was a survivor. She had lived one thousand years, and she would not, could not, let this situation defeat her. And, as ever, she had Shamon. If only she knew the secret of creating the gland. She would have to find a way. She had watched her father create the gland for himself, for her mother, and then for her, and she still remembered some of the procedure. She needed the book. If she wanted Julian for all time, she would have to create and give him the gland. It was the gland that converted the blood and kept the body youthful, almost indestructible. It was the gland.
Until she met Julian she hadn’t cared about creating the gland. She was forever, and with her blood she could prolong youth in any subject she chose. Then Julian entered her life, and all that changed. She didn’t just want to prolong his youth; she wanted him forever!
Why had his body rejected her blood? Was it temporary? Would he awake and look for her? No. She knew better. Something was terribly wrong.
Shamon petted her; his sweet voice whispered in her ear. He always seemed to get through to her. He always seemed to calm her when she was in a frenzy. Shamon was good for her. She needed to regain herself. She reached out and touched his elfish, smiling face. “Dear Shamon … you are so good for me. I need rest.” And then she eyed him almost fanatically. “Shamon, you know what she is, don’t you?”
“Yes, you showed me in my mind. She is a Gypsy witch.” Shamon did not believe this. In fact, his experience in recent weeks with the Realm had led him to only one conclusion: Maxine Reigate was Druid. He knew all about the Druids and now, through Breslyn, the Fae. Only a being as powerful as the Fae could have carried Julian off cloaked in invisibility. Oh yes, this was Breslyn at work. There was trouble ahead for his lady, and he was sick over it. No good could come of this.
“That’s right, a Gypsy witch.” She sank into his arms on the bed. “Later…when I am feeling stronger, I will think what next to do…”
~ Twenty-five ~
MAXINE WAS BESIDE herself. She had been up all night with Julian, finally falling asleep beside him just before dawn and waking with the first rays to touch her husband and plead for him to hear her.
He did hear her. Her voice filtered into his brain, tickled his senses, and reminded him that he had to fight off the disease raking his blood, burning in his heart. He would fight it. He would find his way out of the black hole he was in, and he would find Maxine. She knew it, sensed what he was thinking.
“You are there…I can feel you, my love…” Maxine cried.
“Hush, child.” The guardian’s voice filled the room.
“YOU! Now you come? You let this happen. Why? Why did you let this happen?” Maxie was off the bed, waving an accusing finger in the direction of the voice.
“We did not know he would go to DuLaine. We thought all was well. The wards had been put in place…even your coach and horses were warded for the journey to Scotland. You would have been safe there. We did not see him leave Reigate.”
“Why not? You were supposed to be with us—guiding us. You said you could do that much.”
“We had no idea what he had in mind.”
“You blather on and on about what you can do and what you can’t do, and then off you go! You should have been watching! Make him better—now!”
“We would if we could, but we fear it will take time—so many years…”
“Not acceptable. Fix this, fix it now, even if you have to use Dark Magic.” Maxie wrung her hands. “You set DuLaine upon the world. You banished her knowing what she was, knowing what she would do. This is really your fault. What did you think would happen when you banished her? Didn’t you know she would hurt people…kill people…grow more evil? You are as bad as she!”
“It was not so simple. It still is not so simple.”
“It is always so simple. You set her loose on the world. Julian of Talbot is the last of his pure line. It was the queen’s promise to ensure the continuance of that line. That is simple!”
“Hush, child…” The guardian’s voice was drifting off.
“Don’t you go! You did this…you and your queen of Fae. Now make it right!”
There was no answer. The guardian was gone. Maxie paced, and then an idea clicked in her brain. They weren’t doing anything, but she could.
* * *
Breslyn stomped outside the Council’s chamber. He could have gone inside. He was a Prince of the four Royal Houses and did in fact have a seat at the Council, but he wanted to get his queen alone.
Ete came up to him and touched his hand. “I am so sorry, Breslyn…is there anything I can do?”
“You are sweet, but no…and this is not all our queen’s fault. Julian should have just taken his bride and gone to his castle in Scotland. I am very annoyed with him. Humans are maddening.”
“Poor Julian is paying the price for his rashness…”
As Breslyn touched her nose, the queen’s chamber door opened suddenly and the queen appeared. “Breslyn, I am very sorry to tell you that you must immediately return to Scotland. I do give you permission to aid your poor Destinee…she would not be in her present predicament had it not been for Gais’s original sin against her…go quickly…do what you can.”
The prince turned to Ete. “Later, child…”
“Yes, of course.”
* * *
Lamia DuLaine took the note from Shamon. “You say this came from Reigate?”
“Yes, and their servant awaits a reply.” Shamon was heartsick. It was going to happen. There was nothing he could do.
Lamia broke the seal and opened the short note to read:
I have him with me, but I fear he will die. Lamia, if you tell me how we can make him well, I will relinquish him to you. I won’t stand in your way. I will tell him I don’t love him—never did love him. I will tell him I simply wanted to be Lady Talbot. I will do all that, if you will but show me the spell or give me the potion that will make him well.
You have my word in this. If this is acceptable to you, meet me in one hour just past the Reigate bridle path where the forest trail meets the field fence. We will be on neutral ground. My servant awaits your reply.
Maxine Reigate
“Shamon!” Lamia got out of bed. “Send for Jake. Here.” She shoved the note at him. “Answer her that I shall be there and hold her to her word. Quickly, quickly—write it on her note…send it back to her. Have Jake in place. Our plan goes ahead!”
Shamon did as she bid him. He happened to pass a mirror as he pulled on his riding coat to accompany his lady. Breslyn, Prince of Fae, was correct. He rather thought he was the saddest man on earth.
* * *
Maxie kissed Julian’s cheek. She was dressed for riding. Her mother would give her a difficult time of it, so she was going to slip out of the house using the backstairs. The servants would see her leave…but by the time this was reported, it would be too late for her mother or father to stop her.
She thought of carrying a weapon. Would she use it? Could she kill the DuLaine? No. DuLaine was, she knew, immortal. She didn’t have the necessary Druid weapon to kill her.
She wanted to get her hands on the potion or spell Lamia must have to make Julian well, and then she would find a way to kill her.
The only weapon she carried was the talisman in her pocket. The sarsen pendant she had left in Julian’s hand. It burned his skin, she supposed because of Lamia’s hateful blood.
It was easy enough to escape the house and rush to the stables. There she saddled her own horse, foregoing the lady’s saddle to ride astride. She led her mare out of the barn and walked her towards the backwoods trail. There s
he mounted and started out slowly, working her horse gently into a trot and then moments later into a canter. Fear gripped her heart. Fear for Julian and a certain fear for herself. Her instinct told her she just might not make it home…
In her mind’s eye, she could see Lamia on horseback. She was wearing a veil. She wondered at that as it wasn’t a sunny day; in fact it looked as though they were going to get rained upon. Lamia’s manservant, Shamon, was at Lamia’s back.
She could see the field ahead…and even as she slowed her horse she knew.
She saw with her mind that a lone man was crouching behind a tree. He was getting ready to pull…oh no…a rope. A rope. Too late, she saw the rope stretched out between the trees.
My poor mare, was Maxie’s first thought as she braced herself for the inevitable. There was no time for anything more.
Maxie’s pretty mare snorted as she hit the rope at a trot. It was brought up to catch the poor horse just right. The mare lurched forward, catapulting Maxine towards the fence line. The mare went down to her knees and rolled to her side, screeching with fear as she frantically attempted to recover.
Maxie hit the ground hard, and as she steadied herself and opened her eyes she saw that same young man…someone she had seen before, perhaps in town. He was a stable hand and he was standing near…over her. He was shaking. She reached for her talisman. Instinct guided her. He had a rock in his hand, and Maxie knew why. All at once she knew it all.
She used her mind, and a voice born of many Druids shouted as she held up her golden talisman, Drop the rock and run. Get away from me—get away from her.
Jake dropped the rock. He had no will of his own. He was sweating profusely and blubbering like a baby. He couldn’t speak; he couldn’t move.
RUN! Maxie commanded him with her mind, Run away from here…from her…
Jake turned and started to run his heart out.
Maxie watched him a moment before attempting to push herself up from the ground.
It was nearly impossible, as she found her right leg would not support her weight. It was broken. And then she heard a raging growl coming from behind. She moved quickly, rolling and getting into a more upright position, trying to drag herself in place to face the DuLaine. The pain from her broken leg made her cry out for a split second, and she wasn’t steady in her movement. She slipped off the elbow she was using to brace herself.
The talisman dropped from her hand, and when she reached out to retrieve it she discovered Lamia’s booted foot on her wrist. In a flash she realized how wrong she had been to come out here. She had told Lamia that day of the carriage accident, “Fear me,” but they had turned out to be empty words. She had not been strong enough, smart enough, and thorough enough to save Julian and herself. All was lost.
Like a starving beast, Lamia DuLaine was upon her.
She knocked Maxie backward to the ground and climbed on top of her. “Stupid, stupid chit! You think to bargain with me? Julian and I will frolic on your grave!” As Lamia spat out the words, she brought the rock down hard on Maxie’s pretty head. Her position had Maxie pinned to the ground. Her madness gave her even more power. The rock was raised for its next strike.
Maxie was slipping away. She could taste her own blood as it poured down her face and over her lips, but she managed even in the face of death to vow, “You…shall…never have my Julian…he will be mine forever…we are bound—heart to heart…soul to soul as husband and wife.”
Lamia screamed her fury to the heavens as she brought the rock down again and then again.
Above them the branches of a tall Druid oak made a horrific sound. Maxie’s mare, frightened by this, managed to get to its feet and snorted as it bolted for home.
Maxie’s soul lingered, looking at the scene, trying to make sense of it. Her soul cut through Julian’s unconscious, through time and space, and her spirit whispered to him as he lay in her bed. He felt her essence, and he felt her departure. He knew the meaning of it; he felt and saw Lamia’s hand in it. In his deep sleep he screamed out Maxie’s name as his poor heart broke—
But all was not lost, for they were Druids, and their souls were meant to meet again
* * *
Across the Atlantic Ocean, Daniel Reigate was walking with his young wife. He stopped dead in his tracks and shouted, “No…No!….Maxie!” He turned to his wife and sobbed like a baby, “Maxie…she has killed our Maxie,” and immediately he knew what he had to do to insure the future and the return of Maxie’s spirit in the future.
* * *
Lamia was immediately frozen in the mist of the Realm. Her crime could not go unpunished. She could not be put to death by either the Fae or the Keepers of the Realm, but she could be sentenced to a punishment.
She had killed Maxie under a Druid oak. What would that mean? Druids held oak trees as sacred. But more than that, she was told, when she killed Maxie she had broken a blood law. She had killed a fellow Druid.
She would be taken within the Mist of the Realm and punished for over two hundred years. As part of her punishment the guardians would try and find a way to age her as well.
Shamon stood apart and watched his mistress vanish before his eyes. They turned to Shamon, and he hung his head as the guardian said, “We have plans for you, Shamon…for in the end, you are the key. This does not end here…Maxie does not end here …”
~ Epilogue ~
THE PRINCE OF DAGDA had been off in Scotland, but even so, he grieved for Maxie. He stomped about, angry and gloomy, but he had been off saving his Destinee’s life when she had wandered off disoriented in the rain and had become ill with fever.
His queen retrieved Julian of Talbot from Maxie’s bed and transported him to their world. There he lay in a spell of his own making, in a horror of the heart. There he would sleep while his body waged war against the alien blood. There he would remain until the queen deemed it time to wake him.
The prince had left Maxie’s parents a message, saying only that Talbot would be taken away to Scotland to his ancestral estate.
The queen had relegated the job of seeing to the intricacies and niceties of such a plan to her prince. He knew just how to handle what needed to be done, and he had the time in which to accomplish it. Easy enough for the prince to drop in on Talbot’s earthbound holdings from time to time and take care of all of Talbot’s possessions.
The prince actually found himself quite enjoying this job—and he eagerly waited for the day when Maxie’s spirit would emerge once again through Daniel’s children. It was easy enough for the prince to conduct Julian’s business, as no one in Scotland had ever met Julian Talbot. He hired a solicitor and handled most of Julian’s estate affairs by post.
Daniel Reigate was blessed with a son and shortly thereafter brought his family to visit his parents at Reigate. He went to Maxie’s grave and fervently reiterated his promise to her. When they left England, he had Maxie’s journal safely in hand.
Daniel made a decision to take his partner, his friend Kennet Silbury, into his confidence. He told him everything he knew, and he gave him Maxie’s journal to read. When Kennet was done, he vowed his allegiance to the Reigate family.
The Druid Keeper had taken Shamon to the Druid Realm. They had plans for him that would span the years.
And so the stage was set.
The Fae queen sat in her royal chambers contemplating the months at her back and the future ahead with a long sigh. This ending was not the ending she had envisioned to the story.
If she had to admit it to herself, she would agree that in the final analysis the prince had been right. They should have participated with a heavier hand. Non-interference had proved unsatisfactory—simply watching had done no one any good whatsoever!
Julian, descendent of Aaibhe’s beloved priest, was in a deep sleep and would remain there for some time to come. However, Aaibhe had quite made up her mind that when Julian awoke, it would be a tale she meant to wield a heavy hand over. Of one thing she was certain: all was not lost,
for Julian would wake, and when he did, she was going to prepare him for his new world. Next time, she would take more control. And he would find that Maxie was not lost to him…if he would but open his eyes.
This story was not ending here, oh no. There would be a next time, of that she was certain!
And so Legend was born—Spellbound…
Here’s a sneak preview of Claudy Conn’s newest steamy series:
ShadowLife—Hybrid
~ Prelude ~
Present day
Grampian Mountains, Scottish Highlands
HE FEELS THE weight of his tongue hanging hot and wet between his sharp canines, teeth that can crush through a man’s bones, as he races with precision through the trees. The wolf in him takes the scent from the earth and then lifts his head to the breeze to confirm the distance—a wolf can detect its prey in this manner almost two miles away.
The cold wind whips at his thick and beautiful black fur; he loves the sensation it tracks through his body. The last of the winter snow is beginning to melt beneath his huge paws, and he revels in the freedom of the run.
He is at home in these woods. The scent of the sweet-smelling tall pines mingled with the rays of the new morning’s sun has a soothing effect on his frazzled nerves—as does the hunt. He has abstained long enough.
The early scent of spring fills his nostrils as he reaches the precipice where he can look over his valley. There he shifts into human and lands naked on two feet.
He stands a huge, muscular man, with his black, shiny hair blowing freely in the morning breeze. The intricate tattoos on his chest and arms catch the sun’s rays as his muscles flex and he raises his head to catch the scent of the deer off the wind, the old stag he has been tracking. His cock is at full attention from the excitement of the hunt.