Revenge (Book 3 of Lost Highlander series)

by Cassidy Cayman

  Piper took the blanket from her, feeling foolish and helpless. When she looked down at the soft blue fabric, she noticed it was damp in spots and streaked with stains. She stepped to the bedside table and clicked on the lamp, and held the blanket under the circle of light. Gasping, she tried to hide what she’d seen from Evie but she’d already followed her. Evie grabbed the blood stained blanket and sank to her knees, the most heartbreaking sound Piper had ever heard coming out of her.

  “It’s not—” Piper began, stopping because she couldn’t make it not true.

  Sam burst back into the room, his eyes hollow and empty after hearing Evie’s outburst. He dropped to the floor next to her and wrapped his arms around her, seeing what she’d seen to drive her to that level of hysteria. Piper was frozen, unable to do anything to help them. Her hands were curled into claws and she struggled to unclench her body.

  Dr. Stone pushed into the room with his medical bag and leaned over Evie, motioning Sam to move aside. Sam reluctantly released his fierce grasp and let the doctor peer into her eyes.

  “Now, lass, the police have been notified,” he said.

  He pulled a bottle of pills from his bag, examined the label and popped a few into his hand. He motioned around for someone to get water.

  Piper reached shakily for the glass on the bedside table, but Mellie was there, grabbing it before she could reach it and ran from the room, returning in a split second with water from the bathroom.

  Evie mashed her lips together in a thin line, refusing to take the medication.

  “I can’t,” she sobbed. “I need to find him.”

  She tried to stand but her legs gave out and she slumped back onto the floor, the blanket in front of her, a gruesome, constant reminder that her baby was gone, possibly hurt, possibly worse. Piper wanted to snatch it away and hide it but still couldn’t move.

  “Evelyn, my dear, you’re hysterical right now, which will not help anyone. This medicine is just going to calm you and help you focus, all right?”

  Evie nodded and gulped down the pills, nearly gagging on them. Dr. Stone nodded and retreated, saying he was going to wait for the police in the front hall. Sam fell back to his place next to Evie, once again pulling her into his arms. She put her face into his chest and cried, her body going limp as the medicine began to take hold.

  Piper turned to watch the doctor leave, grateful to see Lachlan coming down the stairs. She had completely forgotten the commotion of the fifth floor that had caused them to run upstairs in the first place. The dark look on his face didn’t reassure her and he was cradling something small in his hands.

  Rushing out into the hall to intercept him, not wanting Evie to be further upset by whatever he had found, she stopped short as she saw the little cloth wrapped bundle he was holding was also stained with blood.

  “No,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

  Lachlan gripped her shoulder and moved her away from the others. “The passageway has been collapsed,” he said. “I sent Archebald downstairs to call for help, then investigated.”

  He noticed Mellie standing in the doorway, her stricken face streaked with tears, and heard Evie’s crying. His face lost all its color and his eyes went blank with fear as he turned his questioning gaze to Piper.

  “Magnus is missing,” she said, her voice breaking.

  She pried his hands open to see what he was holding. As soon as she took the dirty bloodstained rag from him, she knew. Felt the hard pieces rattling against one another. Lachlan grabbed her elbow and she shakily opened the bundle.

  Her insides curdled at the bloody mess of finger bones. She wanted to break down, throw something, scream at the sight, wondering who had been the most recent victim.

  “Daria left them,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  He nodded and produced a scrap of paper. It was lined and edged with gold. Modern paper. It could have been from her own journal and she shivered to think how close the witch had been to them. There was Gaelic writing on it, a disjointed scrawl of ballpoint pen. Piper looked to Lachlan for the translation and he stared over her head at Evie’s bedroom.

  “It says, ‘Ye shall need these’.”

  Piper closed her eyes. The icy fear that had crippled her since she’d seen the bloodied blanket started to crackle and thaw.

  Daria had the baby.

  ***

  It was a nightmare getting Archie and Dr. Stone and the few remaining guests who were still huddling, confused and anxious in the kitchen, to leave. A few quick words to Mellie and she went to work getting everyone out, then Piper managed to circumvent the police for the time being by blaming the original call on drunkenness. Not sure if she would ever wake up from the horror that was upon them, she dragged her weary legs back up the stairs.

  Lachlan had been trying to explain to Sam and Evie what they thought was going on. When Piper returned to the bedroom, averting her eyes from the crib, she was faced with Sam’s outrage and the empty-eyed zombie state that Evie was in from Dr. Stone’s medication.

  Poor Evie was still sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of her bed and twisting the baby blanket. Piper noticed Sam tried to take it from her more than once, but each time she clenched it fiercely, using what was left of her strength to cling to it, as if it were a link to Magnus.

  When she focused her gaze on Piper, she leaned forward. “You knew she was alive and you didn’t tell us?” Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Piper knelt down in front of her, but Evie thrust out her hand and pushed her away. “You know I thought I killed her?” she wailed, wiping her face with the blanket and then sobbing harder when she remembered it was stained with blood. “All this time since we’ve been back, I tortured myself over that. I thought I killed someone! And didn’t you ever think that if she was still alive, I might be the one she went after? Me and Sam?”

  Sam shook his head at Piper, who tried to reach for Evie again. He pulled Evie back onto his chest where she clung to his tuxedo jacket and sniffled.

  Sam raked his hand through his hair and looked at Lachlan. “You believe Daria’s returned and has Magnus,” he stated. “Do you think she’s still here? In this time, I mean.”

  Lachlan dropped down in front of Evie and Sam. He had tightly wrapped up the bones and put them in his inside jacket pocket and he took them out now, holding out the stained cloth packet.

  “Evelyn, lass, I dinna think the blood on that blanket is from the bairn,” he said.

  Evie looked at what he held out and grimaced, but looked hopeful. “No?” she asked.

  Lachlan shook his head vigorously. “I believe she wants us to go back, meet her on her own ground, so to speak, so she left us the bones. Ah, they are no’ old, so that is where the blood came from.”

  Evie went three shades paler than she already was and made a choking sound. Sam groaned and buried his face in Evie’s hair.

  “Dear God,” he said. “Whose are they?”

  “We dinna know,” Lachlan said. “But not yer lad’s. Aye?” He placed his finger under Evie’s chin so she would look up at him. He smiled an encouraging smile. “I believe yer child is alive. She willna hurt him.”

  “No? How do you know?” she asked, sounding so small and afraid to believe that Piper tried to reach out to her again. To her great relief, Evie let her take her hand.

  Lachlan looked away, his face tortured. “She’ll want us to watch,” he said. Before Evie could start a new round of hysterics, he stood up. “She’ll no get the chance,” he said forcefully.

  “He’s right,” Piper agreed, dreadful resolution taking over. “We’ll go right away. We’ll leave tonight.”

  Evie blinked several times slowly, pondering everything that had been said. Looking down at the blanket she’d been clutching, she tossed it away from her in sudden disgust and pushed herself up off the floor.

  “I’ll pack you some things he’ll need,” she said, her voice shaking. “For when you find him.”

  Sam stood up and to
ok her elbow, helping her to the chest of drawers by the crib. “I’m going with you two,” he said.

  “No!” Evie wrenched out of his grasp and flung her arms around him. “You can’t,” she said into his chest. “I can’t lose—” she broke off and pushed away from him as abruptly as she had grabbed him. “You just can’t,” she said.

  “It’ll just be me and Lachlan,” Piper said, all the ways this might have been prevented crashing around in her head.

  She wanted to sit down on the floor and put her head on her knees, close her eyes and block out the sound of Evie’s intermittent sobs and the sight of the empty crib. She caught Sam’s eye as she turned to get the diary and change her clothes into something more suitable. His face was drawn, eyes wet with unshed tears and hollow with fear. He blinked and looked away from her, breaking her heart a little. Sam was her best friend after Evie. She didn’t know how she could have let both of them down so thoroughly, possibly ruined their lives.

  She wanted to cry, but knew it would be a slap to Evie if she did. She had to stop thinking of herself. Nobody would feel sorry for her. All she could do was fix this. Lachlan took her hand and pulled her from the room.

  “Ye mustn’t blame yerself,” he said, opening her bedroom door and guiding her in.

  He started peeling off his tuxedo layers, grabbing his kilt and other eighteenth century clothes. With a glance at the corner where he kept his various weapons, he nodded.

  She sighed, not wanting to argue with him. It was sweet that he would try to keep her from taking the blame, but she should have told Evie the second they returned that they suspected Daria was still alive.

  Her gown from the first time they’d traveled hadn’t been cleaned yet, but she put it on anyway, keeping her modern undergarments on. She’d want freedom of movement while they were there, and the dozens of fripperies that went under a dress from that time didn’t exactly allow for that. She tied on her running shoes and stood up. Lachlan was already ready and waiting for her, strapped on all sides with deadly sharp knives, sword and axe.

  “I want a weapon,” she said.

  He studied her for a second before reaching down and taking a small knife out of his sock. He helped her find a place for it, strapping it into a makeshift holster around her ankle. It felt awkward, but comforting, and she practiced unsheathing it several times until she was confident she could get it out in a hurry.

  “Dinna pull it unless ye intend to use it, love,” Lachlan said. “I wouldna want it turned back on ye.” He scowled at her ankle, and she was afraid he would ask for the knife back. “Just stay verra close to me,” he said and she relaxed. She’d had no intention of giving it up without a fight.

  They didn’t have time to drive all the way to the outskirts of the property, and Lachlan grilled Sam on the proximity of the historical re-enactor’s camp. It was about a mile north of the stable, and while that seemed dangerously close, Piper was crawling out of her skin wanting to leave. Even the short amount of time they’d spent changing was time that Magnus was with that witch, scared, possibly cold or hungry.

  When Evie handed her the small bag with his blanket, a binky and his little stuffed elephant, they both started to cry, throwing their arms around each other’s shoulders.

  “I’ll get him,” Piper promised, taking the bag.

  “Okay,” Evie said, letting Sam pull her away.

  She was so glassy eyed and frazzled looking, Piper almost couldn’t stand it. When Lachlan began resolutely walking toward the forest edge, she grabbed his hand, walking backward and watching Sam and Evie cling to each other until they were swallowed in the darkness of the night.

  Piper felt like an expert at this point, tossing the wretched bones to the ground and slapping open the book to the right page. They had stopped as soon as they were deep enough past the treeline. If they appeared during the day when they arrived in the past, hopefully no one would notice them.

  “Do you have your pendant?” she asked, remembering it just as she was about to start.

  He took it from the collar of his shirt and showed it to her, his eyes solemn.

  Before the dark fear could take over her completely, she blew out a breath and started chanting the words that came unbidden when she touched the page. After arranging the bones in the proper order, she nodded to Lachlan and he cut the inside of his arm, letting his blood spatter onto them. She closed her eyes, not wanting to watch as they spun and rearranged themselves. Now she had to rearrange them, keeping her left hand securely fastened to the page of the diary, then allow Lachlan to cut her arm so her own blood would fall on the bones. When Lachlan held out the knife and reached for her arm, this time she shook her head, taking the knife from him. He closed his eyes while she ruthlessly slashed the inside of her elbow. Ignoring the pain she’d inflicted on herself, she watched as her blood fell on the bones, feeling a part of her slipping away, drop by drop, as it mingled with Lachlan’s blood and the blood that had already been on the finger bones.

  Then the bones swirled again to form an opening through which she could see nothing but darkness. She grabbed Lachlan’s hand and said the rest of the words the spell required, holding on with all her might.

  Chapter 13

  The six men hunkered down in the woods outside Castle Glen, keeping watch and waiting for a sign. What sign, Pietro was not sure, and he was cold and sick of waiting. His headache only served to keep him in a worse mood than he might have been otherwise, and all he wanted to do was charge onto the grounds and take back Bella.

  “There is no sign of him,” the most recent of the men sent out to look for Lachlan reported, falling off his horse next to the small, banked fire and holding out his half frozen hands to the meager heat. The others slumped, disappointed that they would be out there another night.

  Quinn nodded and handed him a chunk of bread. Quinn was adamant about trying to find Lachlan before just tearing onto Glen land and raising hell. After all, Lachlan was the one who had legal claim to Bella.

  God, Pietro hated that. He stomped away from the others and sat next to a thorny bush at the tree line, gazing out at the castle. It was too far to recognize anyone, but he wondered if Bella was there, and if she was stuck in a room somewhere or allowed to wander about, as if nothing had happened and she weren’t married to the clan’s enemy.

  Quinn sat down beside him and offered a bit of dried, salted meat. The inside of his mouth was going to burn completely away if he kept eating the stuff, but he knew he had to keep up his strength. As it was, it was taking all his concentration, frustration and anger to stay upright most of the time.

  “I believe my brother has left, possibly for good,” he said, clapping his hand on Pietro’s shoulder in a consoling manner.

  Pietro nodded, then stiffened. Why was he being consoled? “What does that mean?” he asked warily.

  Quinn dropped his hand and sighed. “I have seven men here now, could have another dozen in a day or two, but dinna know if that’s the course I should be taking.”

  “You mean for us to do nothing,” Pietro said, gritting his teeth.

  Quinn nodded at the men huddled around the nearly useless fire. “Geordie there has a wife, a son and three daughters. I have known him all my life. He is twice my age but he follows me because I am in charge, as ordered such by his laird, my brother.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I know Lachlan said I must keep ye together at all costs, but d’ye think he meant at the cost of lives? For I canna see Tavish Glen giving over his daughter with a grateful smile on his face, just because we ask him to.”

  Pietro flinched. He knew Quinn had no way of knowing his experience with war in his own time, the difficult decisions he’d had to make that would follow him everywhere for the rest of his life. As much as he ached to have Bella back, of course he couldn’t reconcile risking the lives of others. He was silent so long that Quinn stood up and took a few steps back to the others.

  “I’ll let ye think on it this night,” he said, his
eyes kind, but also somewhat patronizing. “Ye may let me know what course we shall take in the morn.”

  He knew that Pietro wouldn’t choose to offer up his men, but he was still acting as if it was up to him. He nodded as Quinn walked away, then turned back to watching the castle, ignoring the others when they softly called to him to have some of their meal.

  As he stared at the castle until well after the last of the light had waned, watching the tiny Glen dots as they went about their business, he decided what he was going to do. He was going to play their own game. And he wasn’t going to let Quinn know about it.

  He returned to the group when he was sure most of them had drifted off to sleep. He took a knife and a flask of water and waited impatiently, his eyes burning as he gazed into the dying flames.

  ***

  He made it to the stable and crouched down by a rose bush, peering through the gloomy night at a still bustling kitchen. Even though everyone at Quinn’s camp had gone to sleep, it really wasn’t that late in the evening. It just got dark so bloody early this time of year in the Highlands, and with not wanting to light lanterns or stoke the fire, the men had chosen to fall asleep rather than continue to go over their bleak options. It had been easy for him to stay awake, obsessing as he was over Bella’s safety, then slip away when the lookout wandered off to relieve himself.

  He heard someone come out the back door of the stable and stealthily made his way to the corner. He was relieved to see it was a man about his size, and not a scrawny young stable lad. He didn’t relish what he’d decided to do and he might have changed his mind if the only available person was a child.

  He watched the man walk to the fences on the other side of the paddock and quickly slipped into the barn, glad to find himself alone in there. A hurried search turned up several items that he could use for his purpose, and with a sickening dread, he wrapped his fingers firmly around the neck of a nearly empty whiskey bottle and waited behind the door for the man to return.