Dark Gathering

by Karlene Cameron

  As he rode past her, she admired the way he sat atop his horse. Duncan’s muscles strained against his white collared shirt, his posture at ease, but sure in the saddle. His dark hair was tied back in a leather thong, the ends curling and lending him a roguish air he neither encouraged nor dissuaded. He glanced back at her and her breath caught in her throat. He really is quite handsome, she thought, kicking the horse to a faster pace so she could catch up with him. For a moment, she imagined a small boy with dark hair and grey eyes, his tiny hand in hers. She pushed the thought away. It was far more likely the child would favor Hawkins. She shivered in disgust, pulling a little too tightly on the reins. Her mare nickered softly and tossed its head, irritated by the restriction. Caitriona relaxed her hold and allowed the sun to warm her chilled heart.

  They rode in silence for several minutes as Duncan led them along a narrow path that climbed higher and higher into Naica Mountain. She remembered the path from their trip to the caves and she knew they were getting closer to the opening. She didn’t feel any different, but she unconsciously slowed her mount. She wasn’t in any hurry to return to the caves. After several more minutes, Duncan reigned his horse to a halt and waited for her to catch up.

  “We go on foot from here, Alainn,” he told her. She could tell his thoughts were a million miles away as he dismounted and helped her down. They tied their horses to a small Joshua tree and slung their day packs over their shoulders. Caitriona still wasn’t certain why he had insisted on returning to the caves—without protective gear and the aid of the small crafts they had before.

  Duncan walked a few feet from her and said something into the communicator he wore on his wrist. She couldn’t make out his instructions and it rankled her. There was something he wasn’t telling her. What is he up to? she wondered, squinting at his almost covert moves.

  “I thought you told me once that you’d never lie to me,” she provoked.

  “I willna lie to ye, Alainn. Ye ken that.”

  “Aye,” she mocked. “We just seem to have different definitions of a lie.”

  “It’s not safe for ye to ken all the details, Alainn,” he said in a softer tone.

  “Who were you talking to just then, Duncan?”

  He said nothing, checking the safety on his weapon and transferring a blade from his pack into his boot.

  “Withholding information is tantamount to lying,” she poked again, deliberately trying to incite his wrath. Perhaps she could delay their departure by picking a fight. She’d then have more time to convince him that this was a fool’s errand.

  “Let’s go,” he said, refusing to rise to her bait. He held out his hand.

  She ignored his outstretched hand and planted her feet, placing her hands on her hips and challenging him with her eyes.

  Walking over to her, he scooped her over his shoulder, swatting her rump when she squealed.

  “Duncan, stop!” she said, beating at his backside with her fists, her efforts no more effective than a horse swatting at a fly with his tail.

  Duncan ignored her and kept walking. She felt lightheaded and feared the nausea wouldn’t be far behind. The morning sickness she’d heard stories about for years hadn’t quite hit her yet, but she knew she was still early into her pregnancy. “Please,” she groaned, gripping his shirt when he picked up his pace.

  “Are ye goin tae stop fighting me?” he questioned, never slowing his pace.

  She nodded against his back.

  “I canna hear ye,” he stated, shifting his hand so that it was resting on her back side. She was infuriated. He was deliberately taunting her.

  “Yes,” she snarled.

  He stopped and set her on her feet. She glared at him, straightening her skirt and smoothing her blouse. He pushed the hair from her eyes, his fingers lingering a little too long on her cheek. She leaned into his hand, relishing the warmth of his touch and the strength he exuded. She could feel the energy from his fingertips as they left a trail across her cheek. This man was as much a part of her as the very air she breathed.

  He withdrew his hand and stepped back from her. She was hoping he would kiss her, and then berated herself. He had much more important things to think about. She turned her head, hoping he wouldn’t see the longing in her eyes.

  “Please, Caitriona. Give me just 30 minutes at the caves,” he pleaded. “I’m nae askin’ ye tae go inside. But I want tae test our abilities.”

  “Why the caves, Duncan?” she challenged. “We can practice what you want at Castle Dunrobin, or the hacienda.”

  “Nay,” he growled, pointing to the trail. She knew he wanted her to keep walking. She sighed and started up the trail.

  “Last time we were here it took all of us to make a connection. What makes you think we can draw any power with just the two of us?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Stop doing that,” she scolded.

  “What?”

  “I’ve asked you two questions, and each time you refuse to answer. I deserve to know what you’re planning—especially since it involves me.”

  He stopped walking. “That may be true,” he said. “But the less ye ken, Alainn, the safer ye are…and the safer our bairn remains.”

  She sighed, frustrated that she couldn’t get through to him. “We need Nicolas and Dani,” she said.

  “Aye.”

  She stopped walking and turned to face him. “They’re meeting us at the caves,” she said, piecing together his plan.

  “Aye.”

  The one-word answers were becoming annoying and exasperating. “You’re worried Hawkins will notice a larger party and feel that it’s safer if we travel with smaller escorts.”

  He turned and continued walking. “Ye ask too many questions, Alainn.”

  She caught up to him and pulled his arm, forcing him to stop. “And you’re worried that having two genetically gifted, powerful women together makes a more attractive target to Hawkins,” she said, the words coming easily as his plan became clear.

  “Trust me,” he told her. “I’m nae goin’ tae let anything happen to ye or the wee one ye carry.”

  She instinctively put her hand over her stomach where she knew the baby was already beginning to form. She’d heard about women who aborted their pregnancies by using calamus root, although she was certain she wouldn’t find the much-needed herb here in the desert. Still, she had only to find a local woman versed in herbal medicine to find out what her options were. She also remembered her aunt teaching other women about the various herbs and their uses. Her aunt had often referred to mint, swiss chard, and fennel as emmenagogues, and Caitriona knew she could likely go that route as well…if she found enough. Overconsumption of those herbs/foods often caused bleeding. And if she could bleed, she’d likely be able to expel the placenta.

  She picked up her pace and pushed on ahead, climbing the hillside at a fast clip she’d feel in her shins the next day. She didn’t care. Duncan would win this battle. She’d give him this. But he wouldn’t be able to stop her from naturally aborting her pregnancy, and that gave her renewed hope. She stumbled as her foot found a loose rock. Duncan was next to her in seconds, his strong arms easily keeping her from falling.

  “Slow down, Alainn,” he said, his breath tickling the soft hairs of her neck.

  She nodded, locking her green eyes with grey. He dropped his gaze first and motioned for her to continue up the hill. As they climbed, Caitriona noticed the trail became steeper and narrow in several places. She thought she saw someone in her peripheral vision, but after scanning the hillside and seeing nothing, she continued the strenuous climb.

  As they neared the caves, Caitriona’s trepidation grew. Her nerves were already on edge from her fight with Duncan and the steady, uphill hike did little to lighten her mood. She drew in a deep breath as her stomach did a slow roll. Doubling over, she expelled the contents of her stomach into the underbrush. Duncan knelt beside her, sweeping the hair off her face. She continued dry heaving for a few more s
econds, her stomach protesting her lack of appetite.

  She wanted to curl up and cry. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she looked up at him, embarrassed by her body’s betrayal.

  “I don’t want to go any farther, Duncan. The caves do something to me,” she said, preparing herself for a fight.

  “Dinna fash yerself, lass,” he said, casting a glance at the surrounding countryside. She wondered what he was looking for. “ ’Tis most likely the bairn.”

  She interrupted him. “Maybe, but it doesn’t matter what’s causing it. I don’t feel well. If we turn back now, we can be back to where we tethered the horses by nightfall. If we walk the horses out, I’m sure we can make enough progress in the dark to reach some type of shelter.”

  “Caitriona,” Duncan said, exasperated. “Hawkins is a violent, fascist elite who doesna hesitate tae kill and subjugate his victims. Ye ken this, which is why I canna have ye turn back,” he stated, his growing impatience with her evident in his tone. “There is as much danger behind us as there is in front of us, lass.”

  She groaned. “All of this can’t be good for the baby, Duncan,” she told him, trying to appeal to his protective side. She had no sooner spoken the words than she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t fight him on this, but rather continue their laborious journey. If this was detrimental to the child, perhaps the upcoming energy would expel the placenta and the unborn child. She looked at Duncan and then quickly looked away. He had a way of reading her that was unsettling, and most often, accurate.

  “Caitriona, ye need to trust me lass. Please,” he implored her.

  He held out his hand to her. She gripped his hand and let him help her up the mountain, determined to reach the cave—if only for a very different reason.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Hawkins slammed his fist down on the large mahogany table while his second in command, Harry Billinger, waited nervously for Hawkins’ temper to recede. Billinger had served with Hawkins for several years and knew firsthand the commander’s propensity for irrational, emotional outbursts. And, if there was one thing Billinger had learned, it was to never underestimate Hawkins’ wrath. Billinger had made that mistake and as a result, spent three days in a cold cell, a tiny room barely large enough to turn around. Hawkins had repeatedly doused Billinger in ice cold water before turning the cooling unit on him. Billinger had spent the next three days freezing. By the time he was removed from the makeshift cell, Billinger had frost bite in his extremities and had lost two of his toes. All because Hawkins thought Billinger had grown slack in his duties.

  Billinger wrinkled his nose, trying to stave off the sneeze that was starting to develop. He didn’t want to do anything that would call undue attention to him. He also knew better than to relax his military stance until Hawkins expressly gave him permission to do so.

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” Hawkins bellowed, pacing the floor, his boots wearing a path in the canvas flooring of the makeshift command tent. “I have no intention of handing the girl over once I have her back,” he growled. “High command can suck my cock if they think they have the upper hand here.”

  Billinger grew uncomfortable. He was either going to sneeze or he’d have to break military protocol. Neither would bode well.

  “Fuck that redheaded bitch!” Hawkins spat. “I had her, Billinger! I had that bitch right where I wanted her; underneath me and wet as fuck.” He laughed maniacally and Billinger cringed. He knew where this was likely headed and he pitied the man who was on the receiving end of Hawkins’ wrath.

  “Next time, I’m going to make MacKinnon watch as I fuck his lovely witch,” Hawkins hissed. “What do you think, Billinger? Do you want to take a turn with the witch as well?” Hawkins stopped pacing and stared at the physically fit, 6’4” giant whose loyalty was never in question.

  “Sir,” Billinger replied, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his commanding officer. In truth, he found the thought of fucking Caitriona Sinclair rather repulsive. His provocations were more singular…more distinct. He thought of the young private who had warmed his bed the night before. The young man had greedily taken his cock in his inexperienced mouth, his pink tongue swirling over the tip, gliding up and down the velvety shaft. He had alternated between sucking and licking until Billinger had exploded in his eager mouth. The boy had swallowed profusely, looking up at Billinger with big eyes when he’d finished. Billinger grew hard just thinking about the fun he could have again with the young man tonight.

  Hawkins walked to the serving table and poured himself a generous glass of whiskey, not bothering to cork the decanter when he was finished. He swallowed noisily and set the empty glass down before he began pacing again. Billinger tracked him with his eyes, something his military training had ingrained in him.

  “Fucking bitch,” Hawkins spat again. “Fucking, fucking bitch!” He unconsciously reached up to massage his shoulder where the six-inch blade had neatly severed his tendon and lodged deep in the bone. Billinger was still uncertain of the events surrounding Hawkins’ story. Regardless of the details, the fiery redhead had managed to sink a six-inch blade between Hawkins’ shoulder blades and then escape. He wondered if Hawkins had done half the nasty deeds to her that he boasted. It didn’t matter. He had no interest in either one of them. His thoughts turned once again to the young private and his incredible tongue. He wondered how well-endowed the young man was. He vowed to find out.

  “Billinger,” Hawkins bellowed, snapping him out of his fantasy. “Where is your fucking head?”

  “Sir, my apologies,” Billinger said, avoiding the question. His face grew warm as he stared at his commanding officer.

  “The bitch is going to regret her escape,” Hawkins mumbled. Billinger wondered if Hawkins even cared that his second was in the room.

  “Where are the troops?” Hawkins demanded.

  “Sir, the larger squadron is still in Scotland, near the MacKinnon lands. The smaller squadron has been repositioned and is heading to Naica, Mexico,” Billinger replied, his answers clipped and brief.

  “Mexico?” Hawkins raised his eyebrow and motioned for his second to continue.

  “The drones reported some movement in the mountains surrounding Naica. There’s a good chance it’s nothing more than a Dweller encampment, but your orders were to watch for any unusual movements. We haven’t seen any activity in that area for years, so this latest activity warranted a small troop.”

  Hawkins nodded, rubbing his hand over his bald head and down to his chin. He laughed, a low menacing sound that made the hairs on Billinger’s neck stand on edge.

  “Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Hawkins said, the question more of a statement.

  “Sir?”

  “Six years ago, we thought of making Naica, Mexico, our command center, but the move was not as strategically advantageous as New Washington was seen to be.” He harrumphed noisily.

  Billinger wrinkled his nose as another sneeze threatened to erupt. Hawkins eyed him irritably.

  “Bring her to me, Billinger.”

  “Sir,” Billinger said, clicking his boots together. He turned and headed to the opening of the tent, glad to be leaving the narcissistic leader.

  “And Billinger?” Hawkins sneered.

  Billinger stopped, his heart racing. He’d almost made it to the exit.

  “Don’t fucking disappoint me again. You know what happens when you disappoint me,” he sniggered. “I’d hate for you to lose any…body parts.”

  Billinger saluted and escaped outside, the sneeze he’d been holding back finally erupting into the cold night air.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Danika held the rope tightly as she looked over her shoulder at the ground several meters below her. Above her, Nicolas was busy setting the next anchor utilizing the cams, nuts, and hexes he’d assembled for their climb. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, pushing the rope away from her as she waited for Nicolas to finish so she could start her belay. She’d only climbed a few time
s and found the entire experience physically and emotionally draining.

  “Dani, you can start your ascent,” Nicolas yelled to her. He was about 15 meters above her but he may as well have been two kilometers. She checked the clips and safety devices and began her ascent. It took her several minutes to reach him and when she did, her legs were shaking and spent. The top of the mountain was still another hundred meters or so above them. She sighed and waited as Nicolas transferred the rack to her.

  They had taken turns for the better part of the morning, making their way up the east side of Naica Mountain. While it was the steepest way to reach the summit, it was also the least likely to be patrolled by drones. When Nicolas had approached her with the idea of taking two separate teams to meet near the caves, she had eagerly agreed. Now she was questioning the wisdom of that decision. She swiped the back of her hand across her brow, wiping the sweat that had beaded on her forehead. While they had started at sunrise, it was now almost noon and the heat of the day was beginning to take its toll.

  “You’re doing great, Danika,” Nicolas encouraged her. She thought she detected a hint of pride in his voice and she beamed under the compliment.

  “I think someone’s going to owe me huge when this is over,” she smiled, laughing as he chuckled over her bribe.

  Reaching in front of her, she set the next anchor, working as quickly as she could, but double checking her work to ensure their safety. She ran the rope through the anchor and, hoisting herself forward, began setting the next anchor. It was tedious, physically demanding work, but it also made her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long time.

  “I swear I’m getting slower and this mountain is getting taller,” she said over her shoulder.

  Below her, Nicolas laughed. “Take your time, chérie. I’m enjoying the view.”

  She smiled, wondering if he was referring to the breathtaking scenery or her ass. She wanted to think it was the latter.