Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  “Good point. Perhaps I should send him in my stead, let her kick his arse around the room before I show my face,” Taran teased.

  Ciaran’s eyes widened at the thought of going anywhere near Skye’s room again. Recalling the whispering and nearly uncontrollable urges he had encountered, he shifted anxiously and removed his arm from around Taran’s shoulders.

  “Tell ya what, brother. Once ya make sure she’s nah in heat anymore, I’ll happily take a beating for ya,” Ciaran offered.

  “Ya think she might still be in heat?” Taran asked worriedly.

  “Nah,” Drostan assured. “I carried her from the car to the van, from the van to her room, and did nah sense it at all. While we were at the Jag, I caught scent of what ya were describing. After tha, I did nah catch it again. Even sedated, I’d have sensed something tha strong in her. She no longer has the scent. She’s back to normal, my brother.”

  Ciaran frowned. He was deeply troubled by the certainty with which Drostan was refuting what was supposed to be his ‘rational explanation’. If she was out of heat, why had he found himself stuck to her door like one of those Garfield suction-cup cats to a car window? His mind quickly got to work insisting that he was just more susceptible to the lingering scent than others would be.

  A light rapping on the door cut in on his thoughts.

  “Come in, Christie,” Taran called.

  The door swung open slowly. The maid cautiously stuck her head in to judge for herself whether it was all right to enter. “My scent’s tha strong then, is it, Lord Taran?” She teased.

  Taran smiled at her warmly and motioned to his two unwelcomed guests. “Nah, you’re just the only one around here tha would have knocked instead of just barging right in,” he laughed.

  Seeing the completely uncharacteristic smile that was lighting up his normally brooding features, Christie took a few steps into the room. “Nice to see ya in such a rare mood this morning!” She began, only to freeze and trail off when she focused on Ciaran.

  Ciaran arched a curious brow at her reaction. He stared at her in confusion for several seconds before catching on. She was expecting him to make a grand show like usual; to embarrass her with his fawning. Little did she know, while her age would not have put him off in the least, he was no longer in the game. A quick glance to his left confirmed that his brothers were watching him expectantly – no doubt wondering why he had not leapt for her like a hungry dog on a bone.

  Taran narrowed his eyes on Ciaran, but said nothing. He had known the man for the entirety of his immortal existence. It did not escape his notice that something was amiss with his brother.

  Ciaran quickly pulled his most charming smile from of his extensive wardrobe of smiles – the one with the dimples and glittering eyes and all. He needed to keep up appearances, lest he give his brothers a reason to torment him.

  “Christie...” he breathed dramatically before racing over to her and taking her hands in his. His smile turned devilish as he gave her a full inspection. “Ya look good enough to eat, darling. How long’s it been?”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she pulled her hands away.

  “Ya ne’er change. Just as incorrigible now as ya were the day we met,” she admonished and put her hands on her hips. “It’s been more than 30 years since ya were chasing after my skirt. I’m a grandmother now, I’ll have ya know,” she warned, standing up straighter and meeting his gaze challengingly. “Means the time for tha nonsense has long since passed. Ya will just have to find other ways of amusing yourself whilst you’re here.”

  Ciaran waved off her words. “Ah, nonsense. Ya still look every bit as lovely as ya did then.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice and flashing an ill-behaved grin. “Tell me, when ya pass by the stables, d’ya take a moment to reminisce about tha time when ya and I –?”

  Christie’s eyes widened in shock. She cleared her throat noisily to prevent him from finishing that sentence.

  Taran watched in complete surprise as she blushed like a schoolgirl and did everything in her power to keep her eyes averted. He marveled at this unexpected development. He had not been aware of Ciaran’s apparent engagements with the woman that had been in her early twenties during his last visit. As adamant as she had been about turning down his advances, he had always assumed that Ciaran had struck out with her. He should have known better. His brother had ever loved a challenge.

  “What brings ya, Christie?” Taran asked, changing the subject in an effort to spare her from Ciaran’s attentions.

  “Oh! Well, I hear you’ve a new guest,” she said in an overly joyous tone, even using a sing-song voice for those last two words.

  Taran eyed her suspiciously. Judging by the look on her face, she had been informed of a great deal more than that. With the way the staff and especially the women of her family had always pressed for him to find a mate, he knew she must have been bursting with questions when she arrived that morning – questions that his other brothers had undoubtedly answered in graphic detail. He sighed at the realization that Christie knew exactly what had gone on between him and his ‘new guest’ on the night prior.

  “Yes, well...” he began, clearing his throat and suppressing a smile.

  “Since the Lady is staying as your... guest, I was wondering if she might be needing anything?” Christie pressed with a pleased smirk.

  He knew she was dying to say, ‘I told you so’. Despite his insistence that he did not need a mate, it seemed that he was finally following her family’s centuries-old advice on the matter.

  “Pfft... I’m betting she’ll be needing some clothes,” Ciaran muttered.

  “Oh?” Christie asked in thorough intrigue.

  “Because she traveled here in such a hurry,” Taran clarified, shooting Ciaran a warning glare. “Aye, she will be in need of additional clothing. Understandably, with the moon approaching so quickly after she was...” He trailed off, recalling all of the questions that he needed to ask Drostan. “She did nah exactly have time to pack,” he finished distractedly. A smile stole across his lips a few seconds later as he added, “I’d appreciate it if ya could bring her some new clothes, Christie – something soft and feminine, perhaps?”

  Oh, he knew Skye would be displeased with that, but it was worth a try.

  Drostan smirked, realizing the gamble Taran was taking with his own life.

  “Perhaps a hot bath, as well,” Ciaran suggested with a grin.

  “Oh yes, she did have quite the workout last night,” Drostan chimed in. He smiled down at Taran’s scowling face. “What with her training with Taran and all,” he offered unconvincingly. “I’m sure the hot water would help ease all those sore, tired muscles of hers.”

  Taran clenched his teeth and glared at them.

  “Oh...” Christie breathed with a wide grin. “Very well then. I’ll see tha she’s taken care of, Lord Taran,” she assured with a wink before ducking out the door and closing it behind her.

  “The two of ya are no less a pain in my arse now than ya were four millennia ago. Do ya ne’er tire of causing me grief?” He demanded.

  “Ah, save it,” Ciaran said dismissively as he plopped down beside him on the bed. “You’re just as happy as a clam right now, no matter how hard ya try to pretend you’re still all grouchy-like. Now, I feel a good tale is in order,” he declared as he made himself comfortable. “Explain to your dearest brother just how ya came to be shagging your lass roadside in furry form.”

  Taran groaned and hit him in the head with a pillow.

  “First, I’d like to hear from Drostan just why he broke the ancient laws and gave her the bite in the first place,” Taran said sternly.

  Drostan smiled over at him. “Has she nah given ya enough indications as to why?”

  “Yes, she has,” Taran conceded. “But since I kept Latharn from demanding your head on a pike for the offense, I think I deserve to hear the answer straight from –”

  “She is the One,” Drostan said in barely more than a
whisper.

  Regardless of how quietly they had been spoken, those words carried untold weight.

  Ciaran and Taran both stared at him in astonishment at hearing the confirmation spoken aloud.

  After a long moment of stunned silence, Ciaran finally demanded, “You’re sure of this?”

  Drostan sighed. “Ya both need realize tha I’ve been forbidden from saying much of anything aloud on the matter,” he began, waiting for them each to nod in understanding before turning his attention to Ciaran. “And if ya mean ‘have the whispers come right out and named her?’ The answer is no. What I am sure of is tha the whispers directed me to her three years ago, they’ve had me chasing her around ever since, and, had I nah given her the bite when I did, the fògaraich would have eliminated the threat she poses to them by any means necessary.”

  Ciaran fought to prevent his mouth from dropping open. “Three... did ya just say ‘three years ago’?” He asked nervously.

  Taran turned and gave him an incredulous look. “And tha’s the only part of his statement tha caught your notice?”

  Ciaran quickly tried to backpedal. “Umm... nah, it’s just... I mean... I was just wondering whether... or why, rather... well, ya know... tha exact time period might have held significance.”

  His brothers eyed him suspiciously as he stammered, eventually deciding to get on with the conversation and address his strange behavior at a later time.

  “So she’s nah been declared, then,” Taran said as he turned back to Drostan, all the while still shooting wary glances over at Ciaran.

  “Nah, but come the Gathering, she will be,” Drostan assured. “Who am I but an instrument in all of this? It is nah my place to name her for what she is. Tha is for... Them... to do. I had to give her the bite when I did, if for no other reason, than to allow Them the opportunity to do so.”

  22: Note to Self

  Skye opened her eyes slowly, peering out from under her blanket at the sunlight filtering in through the window. She tensed defensively as she sensed movement at her back. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She smelled... a woman...

  She sat up quickly in bed, spinning to face the unknown intruder.

  “Holy Mary, mother of Chreest!” The maid cried, dropping the basket she had been carrying. The woman clutched her chest as she tried to slow her heart. “I’m sorry, deary. I did nah mean to wake ya!” She offered apologetically. “Was just drawing a bath for ya like Lord Taran asked. I hope I did nah give ya a fright.”

  Skye eyed the middle-aged woman distrustfully for another few seconds.

  Since when is there a maid, she wondered?

  Upon catching scent of steaming water in the bathroom, she relaxed. She quickly lost interest in the woman after establishing that she posed no threat. There were too many other questions to deal with at the moment.

  Why is my head throbbing? What day is it?

  Why do I smell like a men’s locker room ?

  She looked around in confusion as the maid watched her worriedly.

  “The name’s Christie,” she finally offered self-consciously. “I’m a maid here at the castle. Well, except Sundays. And I guess it goes without saying tha I’m off on the days around when the moon is full,” she added with a lighthearted laugh. Her laughter came to an abrupt halt when Skye shot her a suspicious look.

  “When the moon is full?” Skye repeated impatiently, trying to establish just what this woman was privy to.

  “Aye, love. It’s always been the rule here at Faol Seunta. ‘At the time of the full moon, only clansmen of the Tàcharain Fhaol are to be permitted within the protection of her walls’,” she recited, as if she had been made to practice this as a child. “I s’pose the rule’s in place in case Lord Taran is to be having any unexpected visitors such as yourself. Ones tha – well, ya know...”

  She leaned closer, whispering as if not wanting to divulge something private.

  “... tha can nah control the change just yet,” she offered with a sympathetic frown.

  Skye arched a brow, finding it slightly insulting that even a mortal woman was pitying her for her inabilities as a faol.

  “I can help ya with anything ya need. Oh, and I’ve brought ya these,” Christie said, motioning to the top of the dresser. “Just some new clothes for ya to wear. Lord Taran said ya traveled here in a bit of a hurry and did nah bring any, save what was on your back. Let me know if they’re nah to your liking or if any need mending to fit ya better.”

  “What’s today?” Skye asked suddenly.

  Christie stared at her for a moment before answering. “Why it’s Saturday, love.”

  Skye’s brows drew together.

  Saturday... she thought worriedly. Not Friday? Didn’t I change for the last time on Thursday night? What am I missing?

  Christie was still staring at her with those concerned eyes and she felt a pang of guilt for it. She was not used to being served but here she was, treating this sweet woman like a piece of furniture.

  She let her features soften, despite her bewilderment.

  “Thank you, Christie, for everything. The bath, the clothes, trying to be quiet so you wouldn’t wake me... ,” she said, drawing her knees up to her chest under the sheet and smiling at the woman sincerely. The last time she had someone care for her like this, she had been a child. It was oddly comforting. Besides, she was feeling inexplicably blissful today.

  A warm smile instantly came to Christie’s face. She inclined her head graciously.

  “My pleasure, deary. It’s nah often tha I have anyone to look after. With Lord Taran being such a pain in the arse aboot anyone helping him, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be of use,” she confided.

  Skye laughed, she had figured as much of him.

  “There are plenty of towels in the closet beside the bath,” Christie continued. “If ya need anything else, ya just give a holler and I’ll see to it. While you’re in there, I’ll be poppin’ back in to change the sheets. Figured I’d let ya know so’s your nah wonderin’ who’s putterin’ aboot in here,” she laughed.

  Skye thanked her for her help and had just started to crawl from the bed when she realized two things. Not only was she completely naked, but she was also feeling the familiar after effects of Miko’s tranquilizers. She sighed, wondering what she had done to earn a dart this time.

  “Ya know...” Christie began quietly once she had reached the door. As if suddenly fretting over her words carrying out into the hall, she turned and walked back to the side of the bed. “He’ll probably fuss at me for a year for saying this, but to hell with it, someone ought to. We’re all right glad ya came here.”

  Skye looked at her curiously, not understanding the reason.

  “The company of a woman, especially such a right pretty wee lass as yourself, will be good for Lord Taran after all this time,” Christie explained.

  Skye’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Hope you’ll excuse my boldness, deary,” Christie laughed. “It’s just tha the man’s been a recluse for centuries. As I’ve heard tell of it from his clansmen over the years, he’s nah so much as looked at a lass since well before he came here. I remember my great-gran going on aboot it back when I was a girl, how it wasn’t right for a man to be alone for so long. Course, ya can nah say a word to Lord Taran aboot it and have it get through. He always just forces tha polite smile of his and says a thank ya for the advice. If ya corner him on it and try to get him to go out and find someone to keep him company – which I have in the past – he swears it’s just a matter of no special lady catching his eye,” she rambled before reaching out and gently taking Skye’s hand. “But with the way he’s all smiles and laughs today, I’d say you’ve done more than caught his eye,” she said with a wink. “You take care of him. He’s a good man with a kind heart, no matter how long he’s been alive.”

  Skye smiled at Christie, surprised to find tears of joy in the woman’s eyes. Part of her wanted to argue that there was nothing going on between them, to point
out that Taran was simply her mentor, that he was too old for her in a big way... but she could not bring herself to voice it.

  “I will,” she whispered instead as the woman ran a hand over her hair fondly.

  “Oh, look at me... getting all teary when all ya need is a bath,” Christie laughed as she dabbed at her eyes.

  “It’s okay,” Skye assured.

  “Guess I’m just happy to see him like this. Glad tha I got to be here for it,” she explained through sniffles. “Go on, ya go get your bath and never mind a foolish old woman,” she urged as she stood and left the room.

  Skye sat in silence for a moment after Christie had gone, wondering why she had allowed the woman to believe that she was here to save Taran from solitude. Telling herself that she must have just felt sorry for Christie, she ventured to the bathroom. The scent of wildflowers greeted her long before she reached the doorway and she paused, inhaling the pleasing aroma deeply. A smile came to her lips seeing the sunlight pouring in across the steaming bath, the purple petals floating across the surface of the water. Despite usually abhorring such things, she actually allowed herself to enjoy the fripperies of femininity that Christie had left for her. There were floral soaps and bath salts, as well as a vase of fresh flowers that had been placed on the window ledge for her enjoyment alone. She sat in the water for a long time, her mind replaying flashes of memories that did not make any sense.

  A club of men...

  She was speaking cruelly to Taran there.

  It had to be a dream...

  God, she hoped it was just a dream.

  The other men were touching her...

  Stifled rage was burning in Taran’s eyes at the sight.

  Her jaw dropped as an image of Taran’s face twisted in pleasure suddenly came to her. She could see her fingertips pressing into his bare chest, hear their joint moans of pleasure, recall the sensation of him between her thighs.

  “Oh shit...” she breathed and snatched a mirror from the table beside the tub.