She turned to Fergus Campbell who stood in his velvet finery, his handsome, smooth features nearly marking him worse than the devil he accused Kat of being. “What ugliness sits in your heart, Campbell? I would be a fool to ignore your threat.” Elizabeth’s sharp eyes pierced the open mouthed man.
“I am no threat,” Fergus murmured and bowed, backing up out of her gaze.
Toren felt Kat relax into him, leaning against his arm. The murmurs and curious gazes of the crowd had turned to Fergus.
A guard leaned in to Elizabeth’s ear and whispered something. She nodded.
“There will be no more accusations made,” she said strongly. She turned her eyes to Toren. “I will have no more disappearing, Highlander,” she commanded.
“Yer Majesty.” He nodded and bowed slightly. Kat curtsied again.
“I must change for my portrait.” Elizabeth turned to one of her ladies. “And have my necklace polished. The dust clouds the pearls.”
“Ye honor me by wearing my gift,” Toren said as she descended the two steps.
“I am fond of the necklace, but the winged bug is odd.” She frowned. Toren watched the necklace as the lady removed it. “I would prefer a bee.”
“I could remove the dragonfly from the necklace,” Toren suggested in a casual tone. “May I?” He was within inches of it. If he could just hold it for five seconds, a moment to release the spell. His hand itched to grab it. Time and mere inches hung between them.
“Not now,” Elizabeth said and shooed the lady away with it. “After the portrait perhaps. Time is short before we send our first wave of Hell Burners toward the Spanish crescent.”
Toren’s fingers pulled into a tight fist. He bowed and stepped back.
“But Highlander, I’ve heard rumors of Hughe Maxwell’s death and his daughter’s abduction by your brother.”
More from Fergus Campbell. “Truth mixed with lies,” Toren said.
“Follow then,” she called. “I would hear your truth, Highlander, while I walk.”
Kat leaned into Toren’s ear. “Go with her. I will try to get the amulet.”
The exchange looked like a sweet farewell.
He kissed her lips softly. “Doona touch it.”
Chapter 12
Kat waited until Elizabeth and Toren left the tent before she began to walk through the curious throng. People stared and whispered. Twice Kat raised the mask but then let it fall beside her skirts. Head held high, shoulders back, she glided along the part among the people. Elizabeth had defended her, Toren thought she was beautiful, and she even had a last name. So what if it was just borrowed, so was the dress, but at the moment it was hers. Kat smiled and nodded to several courtiers as she left the tent, determination adding steel to her spine.
Outside the banners snapped in the charged wind. Dark clouds circled out on the horizon. Kat glanced down to the docks where small, dilapidated fishing boats were being stuffed and loaded with everything flammable. Hell Burners, she thought as her heart leapt at another authentic historical sight. She shook her head and thought of her favorite UVA teacher. “Professor Willcock would probably poop himself if he were here,” she whispered and walked in the other direction, toward the inn, just in case anyone watched.
When she’d reached the inn, she walked out the back door through the kitchens. The staff was busy in the main room, filling tankards, so no one noticed her diversion. Kat stuck to the sides of houses as she looped back toward Elizabeth’s tent. She huffed in frustration at her heavy petticoats and clutched at the bell shaped farthingale. “Not the best outfit for sneaking around.” But she couldn’t change. She didn’t have anything else and she couldn’t use her magic to hide. Her best chance was to blend.
Kat held the mask before her face and walked behind a larger group of laughing courtiers as they walked up the hill. When they passed Elizabeth’s tent, Kat veered off behind. A back entrance allowed servants and ladies-in-waiting in and out with Elizabeth’s personal effects. Only one guard stood near the door. Kat pursed her lips. One guard was plenty to stop her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kat saw a woman beating a feather blanket behind a home. After a few minutes she went back inside, leaving the blanket to air in the wind. She’d just borrow it, Kat thought and grabbed the blanket. She folded it hastily and walked with it toward the back tent entrance.
“Halt,” the guard said and peered at Kat who held the mask before her face.
“A gift for her majesty from the keeper of that inn.” She tilted her head in the inn’s direction. The guard grabbed the blanket and shook it out. When no poison or weapon could be found, he balled it back up and pushed it into Kat’s arm.
“Leave it in there.” He held the door flap. “And refold it.”
Kat moved through the tent into one of Elizabeth’s back rooms. A small bed had been set up with curtains hanging around it. Kat smiled softly. Elizabeth had insisted that she tent out like her troops, but Kat very much doubted that her troops slept with silk and satin draped around them. Voices were heard in the front tents and Kat quickly refolded the blanket. She didn’t want to be seen around the time the necklace disappeared. Elizabeth was already suspicious.
Kat placed the blanket on a large leather trunk at the end of the bed. As her fingers brushed the dark leather a shock of magic raced up her arm to her birthmark. Startled, she jumped back. The dragonfly must be inside. Kat glanced around. No one. She tried the lid and it opened. Not locked. There on a bed of black velvet sat the necklace, clean and awaiting its mistress.
Kat stared at the dragonfly as it hummed with energy. The delicately carved wings shifted, lifted, and stretched upwards. Kat blinked hard and the image collapsed back down into the two dimensional etching.
A woman’s gasp made Kat whip around, but the room was empty.
“I said the black and gold gown with red ribbons, not this gown,” the woman said from behind the thin tent partition in the next room.
Kat grabbed a scarf that lay next to the necklace and scooped it up. Toren would have to take the dragonfly amulet off the necklace as she couldn’t touch it without bringing the demons down on their heads. Kat shoved the rolled scarf and necklace into a concealed pocket in her skirts and lowered the lid on the trunk. They’d have to act fast if she was going to return it before the Armada picture was sketched.
Kat whisked out the back opening past the guard without a backwards glance. Now where to go? Somewhere Toren could find her easily, somewhere private so he could release the binding spell and return the amulet to Drakkina. Kat walked once again behind a group of courtiers, her mask in place, until she veered off to the inn. She walked with anonymous dignity up the stairs and turned the knob of their small rented room. Stepping in she released the breath she’d been holding. As she inhaled, a trickle of awareness set the hairs up the back of her neck on end.
An iron-like arm wrapped around her stomach as a rag covered her mouth, stifling her scream. The ornate mask clattered to the floor as Kat was hauled back against a powerful body.
“Bloody witch,” Fergus Campbell hissed in her ear. “Ye think ye can ruin all my work, all my scheming to take over MacCallum land.” His foul breath surged along Kat’s cheek and she fought for breath through the rag and his hand. “Ye kill my men with yer dark magic, ye steal my bride, and ye escape my walls. Then Toren’s brother kills the one ally I had powerful enough to bring the MacCallums to their knees. And now just when I have Elizabeth’s ear, the two of ye show up and she’s meeting with Toren instead of me.”
Fergus’s hand snaked through Kat’s hair, yanking out the intricate weave. He ran his wet lips along her neck. “Ye sure do taste sweet though. Perhaps I’ll have a bit of ye before I kill ye.” He laughed and Kat could feel him fumbling with his cod piece. The window stood open. Could she fling herself toward it? Perhaps a passerby would see the struggle and report it. The hand on her mouth fell to her breasts as Fergus squeezed.
“Let go of me!” she screamed. “Help!”
she hurled toward the window.
“Ye bitch!” Fergus hissed and threw her down on the little bed. He moved to the window and slammed it shut. “Shite!” he cursed and Kat glimpsed Toren striding across from the queen’s tents.
Yes, Toren, get over here!
Kat felt the buzz of the amulet pressed against her skirts and a clap of thunder echoed closer. Was it calling the demons because of her proximity to it?
Fergus grabbed her arms. “We’re leaving, lassie.”
“Oh no we’re not!” Kat yelled. Never let someone take you to a second location. See Lisa, I was listening during those self defense classes.
Kat kicked her foot toward Fergus’s groin, but the man grabbed it, twisted it and in one quick lunge punched her in the face. Pain arced through Kat’s skull upon contact. As the room tunneled out to blackness she recalled another of Lisa’s self defense rules, one she was breaking. Never lose consciousness.
Rocking, lapping water, the smell of oil. Kat’s nose wrinkled which made her wince. She tried to move her hand to touch her bruised face but couldn’t. She lay on her side and listened. The boards beneath her face creaked and she blinked past the pain under her eye. It was dusk. With her hands tied tight before her, Kat pushed up into a sitting position, cautious not to alert anyone that she was awake. She was on a boat. She glanced around. A boat with no captain or crew?
Kat spied the edge of the sun descending behind the trees backing the small village of Dover.
“Ye’ll die by fire or by water, witch!” Fergus yelled from the bank. Kat’s head whipped around, eyes searching as the wind picked up the sails and fed the fire smoldering below deck. Holy Mother Mary! She was on a Hell Burner!
Kat screamed against the gag in her mouth. She stood on her tip toes where Fergus had wedged her between some brittle wood crates full of hay. Didn’t anyone see her? The two soldiers that approached Fergus looked out toward her, but Fergus turned each away.
The thin line of orange sun cut a curve over the trees. Toren! Where are you? Kat screamed in her mind, prayed with all her heart as flames snapped under her feet and smoke billowed thick. She tried to take a step to the side of the small ship and nearly tripped. Looking down she saw the rope tied around her waist. She squinted to see where it ended. Had the bastard tied her to a burning ship? Her hands banded together at the wrists twisted around the rope, pulling. A rough dragging scrape sounded from the shadows.
Kat tugged with her whole body to move the small barrel at the end of the rope. A keg of gunpowder! Insane, the man was truly insane!
Kat inched her way to the side of the ship. She glanced down at the black water lapping beneath as the wind filled the sails, pulling the Hell Burner toward the Spanish crescent. Working her tongue and teeth at the oily cloth, Kat spit out the gag and gulped a full breath of air. She coughed on the black smoke sifting up through the cracks in the boards and pouring up out of the steps below deck.
“Drakkina!” she screamed and looked back at the darkening shore. “Toren!” The wind grabbed her words and hurled them through the gloaming. Kat swallowed against the acrid dryness of smoke in her throat and nose. She tugged on the rope with her tied hands but couldn’t break the rope nor the many knots tying her to the barrel.
An explosion beneath threw Kat against the gunwale. You are going to die, whispered through Kat’s head. “No I’m not!” she yelled at her increasing panic. Magic, she was going to have to use her powers, but what good would turning invisible do? Nothing at all! Kat moved her wrist over to her pocket. Perhaps the amulet could add to her magic. Drakkina had never mentioned what power it held.
Kat pushed through the skirts while she hacked on the hazy gray smoke. Nothing. She felt no fizzle, no hum like before. She clawed at the material until she managed to wiggle her fingers into the pocket.
“Fricking, fricking bastard!” It was empty. Fergus must have found it on her, taken it.
The smoke rose thick until it nearly blocked her view of the harbor lights. Kat leaned over the gunwale and tried to suck in clean air, but the ship was becoming engulfed. Heat licked at her back.
“I’ll end up in the water either way,” she said and yanked on the barrel. How deep was the English Channel? What animals lived in its depths? Because the weight of her dress, even without the heavy barrel of gunpowder tied around her waist, would sink her to the bottom.
She heaved with her two hands until she balanced the barrel on the rim of the ship. The heat scorched her back, the smoke choked every breath. She stepped up on a crate and was about to jump. She looked down and saw the small stopper in the side of the barrel. Empty, could she empty it? Would it help her float? But it was full of gun powder. Would it explode? The thought of sinking all the way to the bottom of the ocean was possibly worse than blowing up.
Kat balanced the barrel on the side of the ship and wiggled the cork loose. It popped out and for an instant she almost lost it in the murk below. Nails dug into it, holding it as the gun powder poured into the water. Hurry! Another explosion jarred through Kat, rocking the boat. Hurry!
As the dark grainy powder poured out Kat kicked off her shoes and began to yank with her toes on her farthingale and petticoats. She managed to get one off but the ties holding the bell shaped farthingale wouldn’t budge.
Kat plugged the barrel and held it to her chest. The sun was gone, the shore too. The only thing that remained was the haze of the smoke, the blaze behind her, and the dark water below. Tears slipped out of Kat’s stinging eyes. She had to jump. Roaring, snapping, the sounds of hell swirled behind Kat as she balanced on the edge of the ship.
“I am not going to die!” she yelled at the water and jumped. She kicked out with her feet to force as much distance between her and the ship. For an instant the wind caught the billows of her skirts and kept her aloft as if she floated on the fierce breeze.
Cold wet smacked into Kat, instantly cooling the burning heat of the blaze on her skin. Salt water went up Kat’s nose. She snorted out underwater and kicked, kicked as hard as she could. The skirts wrapped around her legs like tentacles, dragging her down. Kat felt the rope on the barrel grow taught as she continued to descend into the pitch black of the sea. She kicked but the heavy fabric pulled at her until she felt the tug of the barrel floating on the surface. Would she pull it under?
Kat’s cheeks felt like bursting and she let out the bubbles. She closed her eyes and opened the magic at her core. She opened her mouth…and breathed in the salty wash of water. It stung her throat, her lungs. She exhaled the remaining bubbles caught inside the little airway ducts as they filled. Magic throbbed through Kat and she inhaled the water again. In and out while she kicked. The barrel remained overhead, but Kat couldn’t tell if she dragged it below water or not.
Maybe the magic would bring Drakkina. Kat’s eyes blinked open and stared at the dark water surrounding her, above, below, on all sides. Far off in the distance an occasional flash of fire could be seen hitting what must be the surface.
A large explosion made Kat choke on the foul tasting water. Fire dotted the surface, quickly extinguishing into nothingness. In and out, in and out. How long would she have to wait here? Something rubbed against her toes, and Kat yanked her foot up into her twisting skirts. A shark? A barracuda? What swam in the English Channel? Kat threw up a field of magic around her, warding her. She was already calling the demons with her magic, might as well add a little more.
“Toren!” she screamed in the water. “Drakkina! Holy Mother Mary! Dearest God of Light!” Lord she certainly needed light. Kat had never liked the dark, nor small places. The weight of the water over her felt as if it were pressing down. The darkness pushed in from all sides, nothingness had swallowed her. In and out, in and out, not too fast. Sparks danced in front of Kat’s eyes and she forced herself to slow her breathing. If she lost consciousness, she’d lose hold of her magic. In and out, in and out. She closed her eyes and imagined an open sky, wide open lands around her.
Kat felt a b
ump against her warded area. Her eyes snapped open to the same black nothingness. In and out, in and out. The big fish couldn’t touch her. Kat squeezed her eyes shut.
Her shoulders ached from holding her bound hands overhead. Her legs were numb as she continued to kick against the water and her skirts. The salt and grime from the sea bit into the soft flesh of her mouth and throat. She floated there in limbo, waiting. What would happen first? Would Drakkina find her or the demons? Would she kick all night long or lose consciousness and drown? In and out, in and out. She hovered in a state of near panic.
“Katell!” Drakkina’s voice filled Kat’s head. Kat blinked against the salt water. She tilted her head back and stared at the glow hovering way up high, illuminating the rope hanging down from the barrel. The waves overhead were choppy, but the barrel seemed to be on the surface. Kat kicked, relief renewing her strength.
“Drakkina!” she warbled in the muting water.
Drakkina’s light descended through the murk, illuminating the pitch blackness. Large fish circled the warding. Kat coughed on the water, floundering and kicking with all her might.
“Get me out of here!”
Drakkina came level with Kat. She threw her hands this way and that, pushing back the curious fish. Drakkina’s face was white in the darkness, her blue eyes round, her hair floating like some nightmarish mermaid. Fear, worry, etched deep into the lines of Drakkina’s face. Not what Kat wanted to see.
“Get me out of here!”
“I can’t.” Drakkina spoke in her mind. The crone moved below Kat and tried to push up against her legs to lift, but her body moved through Kat, making Kat’s birthmark sizzle on her arm. Drakkina flew around Kat underwater, her body keeping the fish at bay.
“This is bad,” Kat said.
Masquerade (The Dragonfly Chronicles Book 3) Page 26