by Helen Scott
All around the room, silver candelabras and chandeliers sparkled. The cleaning staff clearly didn’t miss an inch in this place. As she made her way through the drawing room, Ellie felt a tingling sensation pulling her toward an alcove. There—above a lamp on a small, ornately carved table—was the Fairy Flag. Ellie’s breath caught in her throat. Could the legend of the love between a fairy and the chief be true? If her powers were anything to go by, then the answer was obviously yes. It didn’t make it any easier to believe when something that was a part of history in everyone else’s eyes was something so incredibly important to her presently.
Before she could second-guess herself, she snapped a quick photo with her phone. She needed to remind herself of how she felt standing next to a seemingly innocuous piece of history, which in reality was anything but. She wondered what would happen if it was waved for the third time. Would the Fae lend the MacLeod clan their aid? Or would there just be silence?
Ellie pondered this as she made her way through the rest of the castle and into the gardens. She was overwhelmed by the history here, and all she wanted to do was talk to her grandfather about it. With a heavy heart, Ellie eventually made her way back to the car. The inn was waiting for her, and a comfy bed was calling her name.
Chapter 23
Alec and Hal had spent the day flying over Moray Firth, the inlet by Inverness, and the North Sea. The freedom to use their wings and play in and above the water was something they didn’t often have the opportunity to do, but since the outcome of singing to Ellie wasn’t a sure thing either way, he had wanted to spend one last day with his best friend.
They had delved down into the waves of the sea and had flown as high as the clouds. When they returned at last to their rental property on the beach, they were both exhausted. The activities of the day left them in the familiar but not often experienced euphoric state of being their true selves. It was hard not to be joyful after having the wind rushing over your wings and the spray of salt water around you.
Hal had grabbed some beers, and they were relaxing on the beach when he spoke up.
“What do you want to do if she’s not your soul mate?” He didn’t look at Alec as he spoke, instead fixing his gaze on some point out in the ocean.
Alec breathed in the sea air, the salt burning his lungs just a little. “Take me to the river Styx and hand me over to the ferryman. I will go mad—you know this—and I won’t be safe for you or Thad or Dem. I’ll only be a hindrance.”
“I can’t just kill you!” Hal was visibly upset but still refusing to look at him, and Alec refused to be stuck in a cage for the rest of his long life.
“What other choice do you have?”
“I can put you back in the cage, and the madness will pass, like it did with Dem.”
“Dem… Dem may have been in love, but I don’t know that he has ever felt the way I felt when I left Ellie in Speak O’ the Devil. The big Z-man destroyed his love’s mind; she didn’t choose to leave him.”
“I can’t take you to Styx. I’m sorry, but I’ll put you in the cage and deal with that, rather than handing you over to the ferryman.”
“And what about Ellie? She’ll be in my thrall. I don’t want her to live like that.”
“We’ll figure out some way of breaking the call. The bond the siren song creates can’t be the be-all and end-all. I’ll talk to Mom and all our aunts if I have to. I’m not willing to let you die. Besides, just yesterday you used the song’s power to convince Robbie never to hurt another woman.”
“But that’s not a love song!” Alec almost shouted, he was so exasperated.
“I know,” Hal said so quietly Alec almost didn’t hear.
They both knew a siren’s love song was the most potent form of their song. It would enthrall any who were around to hear, with the exception of other sirens, which is why it was so dangerous. When they were young, they used to think they could use it to become almost godlike until they realized those in their thrall wouldn’t sleep, eat, or drink unless commanded to. They became mindless zombies that only wanted one thing: to please their master. The only way to sever the bond that they knew of was death, either of the siren or those enthralled.
“You have to promise me you will sever the bond. I don’t want Ellie giving up her life trying to please me.”
Hal looked at Alec, and for the first time, he could see tears in his brother’s eyes.
“I promise.”
They nodded at each other and drank their beers in silence, enjoying the sound of the sea and the whisper of salt in the breeze while they both contemplated what tomorrow would bring.
Ellie woke early the next morning so she could start her hike. The route was supposed to take about five hours, but she wasn’t sure what the ground was going to be like since it could be quite boggy in some places. She was determined to make it to the lighthouse though. She didn’t want to scatter their ashes anywhere else. She knew she wouldn’t see any of the whales or dolphins that would be around in summer, but she was hoping to glimpse some eagles at least.
“Where’re ye off to so early in the mornin’?” the innkeeper called as Ellie made her way downstairs. This was a different woman than the one she saw yesterday, but she seemed just as friendly. Her gray hair was pulled back into a bun, and she wore a chunky, knit sweater that reminded her of fireplaces and starry nights.
“Walkin’ up to Waternish Point. Goin’ to scatter my grandparents’ ashes.”
“Oh, lass, I’m so sorry.” The woman’s eyebrows pinched in concern.
“It’s okay.” Ellie smiled. “I just want to let them rest in the home of their ancestors.”
“That’s a lovely gesture. Here, let me give you something for lunch, on the house.”
“Och, ye dinnae have to do that,” Ellie said, trying to dissuade the innkeeper, who was already walking off.
“I want to. I know what loss is and how hard it can be. Just wait there a tick.”
The woman bustled off into what Ellie assumed was the kitchen. Ellie was starting to get concerned when she didn’t return quickly. Just as she was about to investigate, the innkeeper returned with a lunch packed up in a cooler.
“Now, it’s nothing fancy, just a ploughman’s lunch with some nice Scottish cheeses. I did pack a wee dram in there for you as well. Give them a toast from us when you lay them to rest, aye?”
“Thank ye, that’s so kind.”
Ellie shrugged her backpack off and tucked the lunch into the last bit of space the pack had to offer. She waved at the innkeeper and set off. With her hiking boots on and her backpack stowed in the car, Ellie drove up to the ruins of Trumpan Church, which lay at the trailhead.
There was only one full wall of the church remaining. The rest had started crumbling or weren’t there at all. The headstones in the graveyard put her mind into a meditative state as she set out. Some were ornate with the carvings still clearly visible, while others were barely legible.
Granddad had given her a history lesson about the brutality of the Scottish clans when he had first brought her here. The MacDonald clan was retaliating for some of their clansmen’s deaths when they burned down the church and everyone inside it.
Only one girl survived; she ran and raised the alarm of the MacLeod clan, who waved the Fairy Flag, and the MacLeods came and massacred the MacDonalds. She hadn’t been able to understand the need for vengeance when Granddad first told her the story. Now it was a little different. If Circe had killed Alec, something inside her would have demanded blood for blood.
The somber mood she had since she started the hike only continued as she kept on. Even the green hills and wildflowers couldn’t seem to shake her out of it. The hairs on the back of Ellie’s neck began to stand on end, and she knew it wasn’t because of the chilly wind blowing across the cliffs. She was sweating enough to be sure of that.
Her stomach began to knot up. A seed of dread planted itself in her gut and started taking root. Something about her hike was off, but Ellie
couldn’t turn back. She wouldn’t be able to get another day off work for months, not to mention the money to come out here again. She glanced around; she was alone on the moors. Ellie took the path slowly. She didn’t want to roll an ankle out here alone and wind up stuck.
A calm sea lay in front of her as some sheep grazed nearby. The sun was beginning to show its face more clearly, so she stopped to take in the view. The azure waters below combined with the slightly cloudy sky, and the mountains of the other islands in the distance made her feel a deep sense of peace that was only disturbed by the niggling sensation of someone tailing her.
Ellie calmed her thoughts by assigning the sensation to the fact that sometimes there were other hikers—or maybe it was even the farmer coming out to check on the sheep—either way, this was not exclusively her stretch of land. She had hoped to enjoy the solitude today but feared it was not in the cards.
After a couple of hours and way too much contemplation, Ellie arrived at the lighthouse. The squat white building was adorned with only a blue glass window and a door covered in peeling green paint.
The sun was fully out now, and the lovely patch of grass next to the lighthouse made for a perfect picnic area. Ellie remembered the few trips she had taken with Granddad here. The last was a few years before they moved to the US. Gran had been in the hospital for tests, as the doctors thought the cancer was back, and Granddad had brought her out to the lighthouse.
At the time, Ellie couldn’t understand why he had come out here when he should have been with his wife, nor could she understand why he had dragged her with him. But now she realized it was almost as if he was saying good-bye to it, like he knew he wouldn’t get another opportunity to see the cliffs or the moors that called so strongly to Ellie now.
Tears welled up in her throat. She wished she would’ve appreciated the time she did have with him more. She knew what he would say to her though. “Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty.” Ellie didn’t disagree with him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have regrets. Before she lost her nerve, she fished the urns out of her backpack and walked to the edge of the cliff.
“I love you both. Look after each other, wherever you are.” Tears began rolling down her face, and her chest was tight from holding in the sobs that so desperately wanted to escape.
As she opened the urns, the wind whipped up and almost seemed to grab the ashes out of their containers. Ellie knew this was where they wanted to be. She knew she had made the right decision. The wind blustered around her, taking the ashes out to sea as she turned the urns upside down. One final gust pushed her back, away from the edge to where she had set up her picnic.
Her tears won for a moment as she collapsed onto the ground. It was finally done. She had laid them to rest exactly as she wanted to, and the weather made it the perfect spring day. Gran would have loved it. Trying to break herself out of her melancholy, she turned to her lunch.
The cheeses were delicious, and the bread was crusty on the outside and soft on the inside—just the way she liked it. Ellie didn’t realize how hungry she had been until she had gone through the entire lunch and was finishing up the food she had packed for herself. The energy bars tasted like cardboard in comparison to the creamy cheese and crusty bread.
The silver flask of whisky winked in the sunlight. A toast would be a fitting way to send them off, and if she only had a sip, then she wouldn’t be impaired for the hike back, right? After a moment’s debate, she unwrapped the flask from the cloth and unscrewed the cap. The peaty fragrance of the whisky was accented by something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and it filled her nose as she took a mouthful from the flask.
The whisky calmed her. Ellie could feel it working its magic on her as she relaxed further, enjoying the sunshine and the view. She blinked and realized she had to concentrate to keep her eyes open. She shouldn’t be this tired from a sip of whisky and a three-mile walk. She blinked again, and when she opened her eyes, Circe was in front of her. She tried to scramble backward, but her legs wouldn’t comply.
“One of my favorite poison combinations. A little monkshood on the flask itself, while the drink was laced with hemlock, deadly nightshade, and a touch of something special.” Circe smiled at her, and Ellie’s blood ran cold.
“Get away from me!” Ellie yelled. She tried to create an electrical blast, but nothing happened. If she couldn’t use her magic, then Circe would win, without a doubt, and there was not a lot of electrical energy around out in the middle of nowhere. She reached out to the lighthouse and tried to take the energy the solar panels were absorbing from the sunlight, but it was barely a drop. Her motor skills were quickly deteriorating.
“You know, now that I think about it, it’s the perfect poison to end our acquaintance on. Socrates was executed with hemlock, and Macbeth used deadly nightshade on the invaders. Scotland and Greece. You and me. Well, soon it will just be me.” She chuckled. “Come on, let’s get going. A little bit of torture, and then it’s lights out for you, little witch. Meanwhile, I’ll be moving on to bigger and better things. Maybe I’ll send Alec to you in the underworld. Would you like that?”
Panic overwhelmed Ellie. As Circe reached for her, she tried to lash out, but her arms merely flopped at her sides. Circe was going to kill her and then kill Alec. The only thought that rattled around in Ellie’s head, other than begging for help from anyone, was how the hell Circe had escaped from Zeus.
Circe jumped them back to the cottage she had rented just down the road from the inn Ellie had booked. It was one of those self-catering places, so she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed by room service or a cleaning crew. She looked at the little witch, paralyzed from the whisky she had laced with poison earlier and felt nothing. The glamour spell had been a challenge, although everything felt like a challenge since she lost most of her own power when Hecate took back her torches. Not that Hecate would get in trouble for her theft. Circe dumped Ellie’s body on the ground.
“How did you escape?” Ellie sounded drunk. Her limbs had gone numb, and her lips were probably on their way to being useless.
“Hades, of course. What a silly question!” Circe wasn’t about to admit the truth to her enemy. She was a dead woman walking, and soon she wouldn’t be walking at all. But first she was going to destroy the thorn in her side. “Now, before you get your hopes up about the poison reaching your heart and head too soon, let me assure you that it’s my own special blend, and you are quite safe from death until I give you the final dose.” She reached down and shuffled Ellie’s body around into a sitting position. “Your beau is torturing himself because you left him, did you know that? I hear he’s actually gone quite mad. Unfortunate really.”
Ellie’s skin was tinged with green. Circe recognized the need to vomit. She’d used these poisons enough times before, but she knew Ellie’s muscles wouldn’t comply.
“Ah, I see the hemlock and the belladonna are coming up to full strength. You want to vomit, but you can’t, right? Well I hate to break this to you, but the dizziness and the confusion won’t be far behind. Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘How could ye use hemlock and belladonna accurately without risking killing me outright?’” Circe did a caricature of a Scottish accent as she pretended to speak for Ellie. “The answer to that is, of course, centuries of practice.” Circe smiled. She really was very proud of her skill with potions.
Ellie wanted to murder Circe and not just for the horrible Scots accent. She had never felt this kind of rage before, not even when Alec was strung up from the ceiling like an animal waiting for slaughter. She didn’t know how the poisons had taken hold so fast, but it had to be something to do with Circe’s innate powers for botany and potions.
“Now, Hades is waiting for me, so we should really move this along. I was thinking we could start with some simple cuts, just to break the ice, and I can see how the poisons hold up.”
Circe strutted over to the kitchenette. The skinny jeans she was wearing showcased her long, lean legs, whi
ch combined with the lightweight, perfectly accessorized sweater, made her look like she spent way too much time looking at fashion magazines or, perhaps, had her own personal outfit planner. Her auburn hair had been pulled up into a bun on the top of her head, and as she walked back over carrying scissors and a filleting knife, she let Ellie see the malice in her eyes quite clearly. Ellie knew Circe would try to make her lose all hope before the poisons reached their conclusion.
Without pausing as she approached, Circe brought the knife down in one fluid movement, slicing open the back of Ellie’s exposed hand down to the bone. Blood began pouring from the wound, and Ellie was screaming inside her head. The problem was the sounds were only in her head, because she still couldn’t move. Circe moved around behind her and cut open the back of her jacket and T-shirt, pulling them to the side.
“You know, I could just cut this tattoo right off you. It’s a shame I can’t possess you anymore. I would have so much fun. Take you out on the town and show you how a goddess parties!” Circe bent over Ellie from behind so her face hung upside down in front of Ellie. “You do seem like a little bit of a wallflower, to be honest. Definitely not Alec’s usual type. But then what do I know?”
She laughed to herself. “Now, where to start… You have a lovely blank canvas back here. I could carve my name, or Hades’s name, or just stab you. I can’t decide. There is something about you that just begs to be sliced up though.” Circe walked around Ellie, tapping the tip of the filleting knife to her lips, leaving a red smear of the blood that already stained the blade.
Ellie stared up at Circe, terror filling her, as she knew Circe wouldn’t stop until she was dead, and there was nothing she could do to prevent that. Ellie pleaded with the forces of the world she was familiar with to send her aid. As Circe began humming to herself, Ellie sent up one last request, begging the Morrígan to grant her courage to endure the battle and a swift death. Then the pain started; Circe swept the blade like a paintbrush over her cheeks before repeating the motions on her back.