Curse Breaker (Phoenix Throne Book 7): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance

by Heather Walker

  If Christie was ever inclined to accommodate the King by working with Alexis, those words banished the inclination forever. “I cannae work with that woman. I’ll do anythin’ else ye order me to, but no that.”

  Fergus watched the exchange with wide eyes. The King looked back and forth between the two of them. “Ye both just said ye would do whate’er it takes to save lives and preserve Faery from this thing.”

  “Yeah, but…” Alexis began.

  The King rounded on her. “I brought ye here and ga’e ye me hospitality to bring ye into your power. I told ye all Faery depends on this. Would ye throw me attentions back in me face over some misguided notion of revenge?”

  Alexis narrowed her eyes at Christie. “I’ll do whatever it takes, but I won’t work with him. He’s a clod.”

  “Ye foul-mouthed witch!” Christie hissed. “Ye deserve the strap. That’s the only way to teach ye any manners.”

  “Do you think I would stoop so low as to enter the same room with you?” she fired back. “Go back to the pond where you belong. I was here first, and you had to come along and ruin it. I can’t have one place in the whole world where I feel comfortable without you coming along and sticking your filthy big nose in it. I ought to slap you into next week.”

  Christie’s temper flared, and he took a menacing step toward her. “Why, ye…”

  The King stepped between them. “That’ll do, the pair of ye. Both of ye, hold your tongues afore I have ye both scourged.”

  Alexis and Christie both looked away.

  The King turned to face Christie. “I dinnae ken what’s amiss atween ye two, and I dinnae care. This matter concerns all of our lives. Do ye no understand that?”

  “Aye,” he muttered, but he wouldn’t look the King in the eye.

  “Now, then, lad,” the King went on. “I’m orderin’ ye, in the strictest terms, to put aside your differences and work with this woman to find out what’s causin’ these disturbances and how to stop them. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  Christie started to soften. He hated Alexis worse than ever, but he might see his way to putting up with her for the greater good. He started to agree to the King’s demand when she growled behind his back, “Go piss up a rope.”

  Christie stiffened. Nothing would get through to her. He would go on hating her, and if people died over her intractable idiocy, that was her problem, not his.

  He squared his shoulders at the King. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything else ye order me to, but I’ll have naught to do with that woman, now or for the rest of my natural life.”

  The King spun on his heel and snapped his fingers. Alasdair Sinclair appeared out of nowhere, along with four of his men. They laid hold of Christie and hauled him out of the room.

  Christie didn’t resist. He should have expected something like this. He had no one to blame but himself for this, and now his mission would never be completed. His Clan would go on battling the curse without help until no one remained alive on Mull.

  The Highlanders dragged him down innumerable staircases into the depths of the underground castle. The decorative chambers and fancy halls gave way to low, dripping stone caverns where no light penetrated.

  The men shoved him one step in front of another. He already knew what was coming. He wasn’t at all surprised when they unlocked a heavy iron door and pushed him into a rotten little cell. His shoes squished in mud when they slammed and locked the door behind him.

  He groped around until he found a bench jutting out of one wall. He sank down on it in the blackest despair of his life. How could he let himself get distracted by Alexis? He never should have spent the night with her.

  He should have asked her by the fire to come back to Mull with him. She would have refused, and he would have been on his way. He wouldn’t be in this situation now.

  He could think of a thousand things he should have done. One thing he didn’t think he should have done differently. He didn’t think he should have given in to the King’s request. Christie couldn’t work with her. He couldn’t have anything to do with her. He would have to find another way to break the curse.

  Now more than ever, he knew for certain she would never let anybody help her. She certainly wouldn’t let a powerful witch like Hazel Green anywhere near her. The very fact that Hazel once went through a similar trial would only drive Alexis away.

  She would go her own way until the curse destroyed her, too. She was too far gone to salvage, and Christie couldn’t waste his precious life caring about someone so spiteful and vindictive.

  She hated him for giving her pleasure. That was her real problem. She lashed out at him for getting close to her. She wouldn’t allow anybody close to her.

  He pitied the Faery King for loving her. The poor man didn’t know the devil he was courting. One of these days, he would find out. Christie thanked his lucky stars he found out what she was really made of before he wound up doing something foolish like marrying her.

  The Faery King might not be so lucky. The poor man obviously had it hard for the woman. He thought entirely too much of her and staked his whole future on her abilities.

  How long Christie sat there in a stupor, he had no idea. After a while, he lay down on the bench. He couldn’t see or hear a thing in this cell. Only the occasional drip of water somewhere far away echoed on the stone.

  He drifted into a dream and floated back to Mull. He never should have left. He should have let Lachlan send someone else to Urlu. Christie should have stayed at home where he could enjoy the time he had left before the curse destroyed everything he loved.

  He’d already lost two brothers and countless cousins to this poxed little war. He had only Lachlan left now. Even Lachlan and Ivy might be gone by the time Christie returned. He might stay in the cell for the rest of his life. Then he would never go home at all.

  His throat constricted, but he refused to let himself break down. He would get out of here, one way or the other. He fell asleep dreaming of the rough hills and coastlines around Duart. He roamed over the moors and gazed down on the mirror surface of Loch Usig.

  His heart sobbed for the country he knew and loved, but he stubbornly held his feelings down. He wouldn’t shed tears over something he hadn’t lost yet.

  A loud clang woke him from his dream. He was still locked in this putrid little cell. He let his head fall back down on the bench. His bones ached from sleeping on the hard surface, but he didn’t want to get up. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go.

  A low whisper startled him upright. “Are ye in there, laddie?”

  “Who’s there?” Christie called back.

  “It’s me. It’s Fergus.”

  Christie jumped off the bench and rushed to the door. Fergus murmured to him through a barred window. A lantern illuminated his features. “Ye shouldnae come here, mon. Ye could get in trouble for it.”

  “The King already kens I’m here,” Fergus replied. “I asked his permission to see ye.”

  Christie slumped against the wall. “Ye shouldnae done that. He’ll turn his anger on ye.”

  “He thinks I’ll be able to talk some sense into your knuckle head,” Fergus replied. “Ye had naught to do but work with the lassie, and you’d no’ be in here. I dinnae ken why ye hate her so.”

  Christie slumped against the door frame. “You’ll no’ understand it, so I’ll no’ waste your time explaining it to ye. I have thought on it. I suppose I could see me way to it, if it means the King’ll let me out of this pit.”

  “Ye cannae do it now, lad,” Fergus replied. “She’s gone.”

  “Gone!” Christie’s head shot up. “Where’s she gone?”

  “No one kens. She vanished after your confrontation with the King. After they took ye away, he and I turned around to deal to her and she was gone. They searched the whole castle. She vanished.”

  “I dinnae care,” Christie snarled. “She can go to the devil for all I care.”

  “Ye shouldnae say that,” Fergus murmured. �
��You’re tied to her now whether ye want to be or no’.”

  “What do ye mean?” Christie asked.

  “Ye dinnae ken it or ye wouldnae ask. I didnae ken when it happened to me, either.”

  Christie shivered. Something in Fergus’s voice told him his whole world was about to collapse. “For the love of Heaven, mon, speak plain. You’re wrecking my nerves.”

  “Ye mated with her, did ye no’?” Fergus asked. “Ye lay with her.”

  “How do ye ken that?”

  “Listen to me, lad, and listen well. She’s Faery. She’s been Faery all her life, and she never kenned it. She lived her whole life in that world where no one believes in Faery and dragons and werewolves and spells and all of it. She didnae ken, and she never used her power until the night her friend taught her the magic words. She was thinking on them, and the spell worked. That’s how she wound up here in the first place.”

  Christie couldn’t speak. He was shaking too hard.

  “I was Faery, too,” Fergus whispered. “I was Faery from my earliest memories. I saw things no one else could see. Strange people appeared to me and spoke to me, and no one in me family believed a word I said. They kenned there was something different about me, but they didnae ken what. I lived like that for years until I met Hazel.”

  “What happened?” Christie gulped. “What happened when ye met Hazel?”

  “We mated. We lay together,” Fergus replied, “and we shared each other’s power. She became Urlu. She turned into a dragon like me. She was Faery already, so we couldnae share that power, but she took my Urlu power and became a dragon.” He snorted. “She became a very powerful dragon—one of the strongest.”

  Christie stared at his shadowed face. “What are ye saying, mon?”

  “Do ye no’ see? Someone told me it only happened when Urlu and Faery mated, but it must have happened to ye as well. Ye mated with her, and ye became Faery.”

  Christie opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  “That’s what the King meant,” Fergus went on. “Ye were no’ Faery afore, but ye are now. That’s why he brought ye here. You’re one of them now.”

  “And aren’t ye one of them now?” Christie asked.

  Fergus looked down at the ground. “No. I’m no’ one of them—no’ any longer. Hazel is, but I’m no’.”

  “What’re ye doing here, then?” Christie asked. “How do ye come to be here if you’re no’ Faery?”

  “I’m his ambassador to Urlu,” Fergus replied. “He says I am Faery, even when I’m no’. He says I always will be, but that’s by the by. The crux of the matter is ye, lad. Ye and her. Ye must come back together with her. The two of ye are one now, and ye always will be. Ye can work together to lift the curse.”

  “Never!” Christie spat. “She turned me into Faery? I’ll never forgive her for that. Ye saw the way she is. She’s a harpy. I only hope she doesnae sink her claws into some other poor sod afore she’s done.”

  Fergus shook his head. “Give her some of that big heart of yours. Do ye no’ see how she’s hurting?”

  “She!” Christie spun away. “She has no heart to hurt. She’s hateful. I asked her for my Clan’s sake to come back to Mull with me to lift this curse. I said we could all fight it together, and she threw my offer back in my face. She’d rather walk alone and let the whole world hang than feel a scrap of human emotion in that block of granite you’re calling a heart of hers.”

  “Ye dinnae understand,” Fergus murmured. “Hazel was the same way when she first came through. She doesnae ken her right foot from her left. She needs help, and you’re the only one that can give it to her.”

  “Then she’ll twist on the wind and be damned,” Christie shot back. “That’s the way she thinks on everyone else in the world, and that’s the way I’ll think on her. We’ll find another way to lift that curse, and she can go on hurting for all I care.”

  Fergus fixed his eyes on Christie’s face. “Ye love her. That’s what you’re really saying. Ye love her to the bottom of your heart. Ye couldnae hate her so if ye didnae.”

  Christie snorted. He turned away so he wouldn’t see those eyes boring into his soul. Love—Alexis? That was a joke if he ever heard one.

  Fergus picked up his lantern. “I’ll tell the King ye said so. I’ll tell him you’re happy to stay down here a while longer afore ye come to your senses.”

  “Wait!” Christie cried.

  “Have a heart, lad,” Fergus told him. “Ye dinnae have to feel a thing for her. Only do your best to help her. Do it for your Clan, to break the curse. Then ye dinnae have to see her face again if ye dinnae want to.”

  He started to turn away. Christie rushed to the window. “Wait a moment longer, Cameron. I must ask ye a favor. It’s naught to do with any of this. I have a message for your brother Angus from Lachlan.”

  “What is it?” Fergus asked. “Is Mull all right?”

  “No, mon,” Christie replied. “It’s no’ all right, and it hasnae been all right since ye left it. Lachlan sent me to find ye and beg ye to come back and help us fight the curse. He regrets trying to go it alone. He needs your help. If I’m stuck down here, perhaps ye could carry the message for my brother’s sake. I wouldnae ask ye to do it for mine.”

  Fergus smiled. “I’ll carry it, and if ye get out of here, as I’m sure ye will, ye can tell your brother we’re on our way. Somehow I think we’ll get to him first, though.”

  Christie rested his head against the window bars. “Thank ye, mon. Thank ye from the bottom of my heart.”

  Chapter 8

  Alexis strolled up the concrete driveway to the house on the hill. She stopped by the bird bath and watched the sparrows splashing in the water. The sprinklers switched on and sent showers of sparkling spray across the lawns.

  The trees around the estate throbbed with thousands of cicadas. The humid summer air choked Alexis, but she was never so happy to see this place. A phone rang somewhere far away, and the dog started barking. All these familiar noises welcomed her home.

  While she stood there, a shiny maroon Lexus rolled up the driveway and parked in front of the garage. A lady in a business suit and a pearl necklace got out. Her high-heeled pumps banged on the concrete.

  The woman arched an eyebrow at Alexis. “Honey? Where have you been? I haven’t seen or heard from you in weeks.”

  “Hi, Mom,” Alexis replied. “Sorry I haven’t called. I…you know, I went on a little trip, and I guess I got distracted.”

  Her mother propped her hand on her hip. “Don’t tell me you went off to some boozefest like Spring Break or something.”

  Alexis looked away. “Something like that.”

  “I thought you were more dedicated than that,” her mother replied. “You’ve always been a hard worker. I hope you don’t go off the rails.”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Alexis replied. “I’m back now.”

  “Well, you better come inside. Your father’s been worried sick about you. He’ll be happy to have you home again.”

  Her mother clipped into the house. The immaculate carpet, the leather furniture, the Cocker Spaniel trotting at Alexis’s heels—she knew every inch of this place. She knew all the rules and all the expectations.

  She sat down on the leather sofa and flipped through the Women’s Weekly. Had she really been in ancient Scotland all this time? Did she really battle giants and dragons and undersea gods to get here?

  That world made no sense when she studied the make-up ads on the magazine’s glossy pages. How could those two worlds exist in the same universe?

  She tossed the magazine onto the table where she found it. She gazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the tropical landscape outside. All the events of the past few months paraded before her eyes like a bad dream.

  She stood in Aegir’s court with Ivy on the throne at her side. She stood on the mountaintop next to Piper’s cave while giants marauded the countryside. She placed her hand on Christie’s chest, and he sat upright as good as new
.

  She shook those thoughts out of her head. They might as well have never happened, because she was home now. The curse was lifted, and nothing bad would ever happen again.

  Her mother called from the kitchen. “There’s some tuna salad in here left over from dinner with the Edelmans on Tuesday night. You’re welcome to have some if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Alexis replied. “I’m not hungry at the moment. I might have some later.”

  Her mother wandered over and sat down on the couch opposite. She studied Alexis. “You look strained, darling. You haven’t been working too hard, have you?”

  “I’m okay,” Alexis replied. “I’ve just been…you know. I’ve been out of my normal routine. I need to get back into it, and I’ll be fine.”

  “You should go lie down,” her mother suggested. “You look like you haven’t slept in a few days.”

  Alexis bit back a smile. She definitely wouldn’t tell her mother she stayed up all night with Christie in that inn. Anyway, that was ancient history. Nothing like that ever happened to Alexis before, and she wouldn’t let it happen again.

  Her mother picked up the magazine Alexis just discarded and turned the pages. Alexis gazed out the window. Now that she left that world of sorcerers and spells behind, this comfortable reality started to swaddle her in its blissful ignorance. Fairies and dragons and giants didn’t exist. It was all a bad dream.

  Her mother’s voice startled her out of her reverie. “The detective in charge of that fire came by about a week ago.”

  Alexis spun around. “The fire?”

  “He wanted to question you about it. He got as much information as he could out of Nora, and he still can’t locate Ivy. He got very alarmed when I told him I didn’t know where you were. You better contact him right away before he gets any strange ideas. He’s already coming to some very inflammatory conclusions about you and Ivy. You would do well to put them to rest as soon as possible.”

  Alexis stared at her mother with her mouth open. The fire! The house Alexis shared with Ivy and Nora burned down when Ivy and Alexis traveled on the spell to Scotland.