by Carey Corp
“Ye’ve been a worthy adversary, Veronica Welling. In fact, yer soul is so strong and pure that once I drink it and take over yer body, not even your delicious prince’s kiss will be able to tell the difference.”
I strained against her hold with every ounce of will I possessed. No way would I let her take my soul and steal my identity! But I couldn’t even move a finger. My chest tightened as cold sweat dripped down my back.
Addie stepped closer, her voice a gravely hiss. “And when an infant mysteriously dies every six months, we’ll chalk it up to natural causes. No one needs to know their sweet little souls will sustain me and fuel my magic until I’m restored to my former power . . . It’s worked verra well for me the last millennia.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The beauty of it all is that I won’t even need to take Doon. When I’m you, those simpletons will just hand it over to me.”
Even as she boasted, her arm shook, the purple lightning she held in her hand flickering. While her power faltered, strength surged back into my muscles. I lunged, scrambling to the right and heading for the cover of the nearby trees. But she froze me again mid-leap.
“Appears my fun is endin’. Or should I say yours!” she crowed in triumph. “Adieu, Queenie. I’ll enjoy livin’ yer life, wi’ relish!”
She lowered her arm and electricity shot from her hand. I braced myself for death as a body flew in front of me, the bolt slamming into him as he fell.
Addie shrieked.
In that instant, my movement returned, and I flung myself to the ground beside the boy who’d sacrificed himself for me. Ewan Murray’s summer-green eyes stared lifelessly at the clear sky. No. No, no . . . Not Ewan! Not the passionate, energetic boy with the mischievous smile and enormous heart. Not my friend.
My eyes traced his body for any signs of life and I noticed a huge gash in his right side—not from magic, but a blade. The injury must have put him a few minutes behind the rest of us. Now he was dead.
Because of me.
Tears flooded my eyes as a scream built in my chest like thunder. Grabbing the dagger from Ewan’s belt, I sprang forward and flung the blade. In slow motion, it flew end over end toward the witch. Addie’s lipless mouth widened in a scream. Her hands moved frantically as she tried to summon magic that she no longer possessed.
The blade hit her square in the chest, knocking her back on her feet. Impossibly, she stayed upright and stumbled forward, arms out, eyes wide. “Ye think . . . a blade can . . . stop me . . . how quaint.”
I tripped backward, unable to look away from the black sludge bubbling out of her chest. With effort, she brought her hands together to form a ball of magic. Terrified that she’d already drained Ewan’s soul and regenerated her power, I turned to run just as she toppled back.
Stunned, I stared for long minutes. Waiting. When she didn’t move, I crept over to her body on wobbly legs. I reached her just as the last breath shuddered from her chest and her head lolled to the side, my gold filigree and ruby crown falling into the grass. I reached for it and then drew back. Addie had commissioned that crown for herself—it had never been mine.
I took a step back and waited for her to disintegrate or melt, or whatever wicked witches in Doon did after they were dead. I had to see it. Had to be sure she was gone for good. And I wasn’t disappointed.
A sharp sound rent the air, like a pickax cutting rock, and the ground began to tremble. I stumbled back as dark forms, blacker than a starless night, emerged from the ground. Their shapes continually changed in a morphing impression of horns, gnashing teeth, and vicious claws, so that I couldn’t focus on them individually. They howled and it was as if all sound left the earth.
Before the scream of terror could escape my throat, the indigo curtain collapsed and my friends rushed into Doon calling my name.
I turned back as the demons sunk their fangs into the witch’s arms and legs, lifting her into the air. Unlike Alasdair’s majestic end, they forced her body into the ground with an earth-shattering boom that I felt in my soul.
And just like that, the Witch of Doon was gone. Forever.
I raced to meet my loved ones and threw myself into Jamie’s arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. Over his shoulder, I saw the beautiful face of my best friend. We reached out and linked our fingers. “I killed the witch, Ken.”
“I saw those demon-things take her down,” she replied with a shudder. “How did you do it?”
“She ran out of magic and I threw a knife into her chest. But . . . but Ewan . . . he died saving me.” Tears burned my throat as I said, “We need to take him back to the castle. Give him a proper hero’s send-off.”
“Of course, love.” Jamie’s arms tightened around me as I watched Doonians and the Destined flood off the Brig o’ Doon. Around them, people still on the bridge snapped pictures and held up their phones—likely taking video. “The modern world can see us?”
Jamie set me on my feet and I met his penetrating gaze. “Aye. ’Tis the price we must pay. But watchin’ those devils drag the witch to the underworld will make the sacrifice worthwhile.”
He was right, of course, but that didn’t stop the deep sadness filling my chest. It was over. Our fairy-tale kingdom would become nothing more than a tourist destination. I could almost see the advertisements replete with dancing highlanders in plaid pants and tams. Come see the mythical Brigadoon come to life!
Proving that we still shared a brain, if not a Calling, Kenna commented, “I was right, wasn’t I? Doon’s going to become the next Harry Potter World.”
Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder, his mouth dropping open as his eyes flared. “I wouldna be so sure.” As I turned to follow his gaze, the blast of trumpets filled the air, their sound so mighty and unexpected that my knees buckled beneath me.
CHAPTER 48
Mackenna
Catching Vee mid-swoon, I tried to take it all in: the trumpets, the blinding gold light, and the awe-inspiring creatures heralding from the Brig o’ Doon. Angels, just like the ones so many of the Destined had described seeing, lined both sides of the bridge like a celestial chorus line.
Along with the sound of trumpets, their terrible voices were lifted in song. Feeling like Dorothy and her companions about to meet the wizard, Jamie, Duncan, Vee, and I stepped onto the bridge and slowly walked to the center. Doonians and Destined, filling both sides of the riverbank, watched in breathless reverence.
Suddenly, the modern world—the tourists and the streetlamps—faded away as a voice as quiet as a blade of grass in the wind and more booming than a thousand giants pronounced, “Choose.”
My friends and I looked at each other uncertainly. “Choose what?” I asked.
“The modern world,” the voice replied. “Or a new covenant.”
As much as I vowed to accept the cost of breaching the borders, my heart leapt with this new proposition. After everything, would the Protector offer a new covenant that would safeguard the kingdom of Doon and its inhabitants from becoming the eighth wonder of the world?
Beside me, Duncan murmured, “The choice of the suspended man.”
I squeezed his hand and sought Vee’s gaze. “Doon,” she said in a clear, musical voice. “I choose Doon.”
“Me too!” I added.
Jamie and Duncan spoke over one another, choosing Doon, followed by Fiona and Fergus. One after the other, both Destined and Doonian made their choice—all of them chose the new Covenant—until a last person, a boy with blue-and-green streaks in his hair, stepped forward.
“That’s the magician dude,” I whispered to Vee. “The one with his own YouTube channel.”
Eyes shimmering with the force of his conviction, he addressed the queen. “Your Majesty, have you thought about how we’re going to explain what happened here today? The modern world will be looking for a plausible explanation. And I think I have one to offer.”
Vee nodded. “Go on.”
“You see, Majesty, I’m an illusionist. Although I’m only eighteen, I’m f
airly well known. And if you’ll allow it, I’ll take credit for this. I will make Doon my greatest illusion. If people think it was a magic stunt, they’ll be more likely to let it go. News will eventually fade away, and this will become part of urban legend, just like the story of the bridge before.”
Vee gawked at him. “You’d sacrifice your Calling to protect Doon.”
The boy tucked a wayward strand of colorful hair behind his ear with a shrug. “I think this is what I’ve been Called to do. I’m supposed to protect Doon from the outside. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” She hugged the boy. “And thank you!”
We watched Jeremy walk resolutely into the mists toward Alloway. Once he had disappeared, my friends and I joined hands and set off in the opposite direction with assurance of a new Covenant and the promise of a bright future.
CHAPTER 49
Veronica
Sunlight tumbled through the leaves, creating muted patterns on the carpet of moss under my feet as I trudged up the steep trail. A sweet, verdant breeze pushed the hair off my face, causing me to pull the shawl tighter around my shoulders. Morning in Doon was my favorite time for a leisurely stroll, but this day I was headed toward the hunting lodge on a mission. Jamie had been conspicuously absent the last two weeks, showing up for the occasional dinner peckish and exhausted. Whenever I’d question him about his day, his answers were evasive at best, and the night before, he’d fallen asleep at the table with his head propped in his hand.
The business of rebuilding the kingdom kept us both busy, and Jamie had taken a special interest in getting our latest Destined settled into their new lives; not to mention the fresh crop of kids he’d recruited for the Crew.
However, his recent preoccupation and secretive smiles told me he was up to something unrelated to restoring order to his land. As I still viewed any surprise as a bad thing, a few days ago I’d begun systematically searching the kingdom. The exercise and the alone time gave me an opportunity to reflect on what we’d been able to do and where we were going next.
It was amazing what we’d been able to accomplish in the six months since we’d defeated the witch. The Protector, in his infinite mercy, had reestablished Doon’s separation from the modern world. The first covenant had been formed against an immediate threat—an evil witch. This time we’d been shielded from a much subtler, but no less sinister fate: the corrupting influence of modern civilization on the kingdom and its people. Or as Kenna put it, becoming Brig o’ Doon World . . . or worse.
There were still so many things we didn’t know about the new covenant–would Doonians still experience Callings? Would there still be a Centennial? Would the portal ever open again? Since the battle, the Rings of Aontacht had remained silent—not even giving off so much as a spark—and I wondered if they’d served their ultimate purpose.
All the damage from Addie’s black magic had been restored, all traces of her spells erased—except for the numerous friends we’d lost in the battle. Their loss had left a permanent hole in all our lives.
Gideon and his staunch determination to protect Doon at any cost. Calum, whose animated narrative was lost to us forever. Analisa, who had challenged and supported me in perfect measure. And of course, Ewan. I’d known him the least amount of time, and yet missed him most of all.
I kicked a pinecone with the toe of my boot and braced for the blinding pain to close my throat, but it never came. Time had begun to heal the open wounds of grief. Day by day, I was learning to live with gratitude that we’d been given the chance to build a new world.
My only lingering regret was that with the portal closed, I no longer had a way to bring Sofia’s Called mate across the bridge. Kenna, refusing to believe that not everyone has a happy ending with a bow around it, flung her in the path of every eligible Destined boy in the futile hope that she’d find “the one.”
When she wasn’t busy dodging Ken’s setups, Sofia threw her energy into restoring the kingdom with a clarity of purpose that bordered on frightening. Every time I turned around she was there working to help someone else get their life back. When I pulled her aside to discuss it, all she would say was that she trusted the Protector had a plan.
A tiny fur-covered animal squeaked across my path and I paused, took out my flask of water, and turned to look back at how far I’d come. Raising a hand to shield my eyes, my breath caught at the sight. The bucolic scene was a far cry from the cracked, concrete landscape of my childhood. Hills rolled out below me covered in waves of golden gorse and wild heather, giving way to a patchwork of flatter geometric fields. A surge of puffy, white sheep returned from the high pasture, and just beyond, the spire of the Ault Kirk rose above the colorful buildings of the village.
Doonians, like tiny dolls, moved around the marketplace. But they were not faceless figures to me, as I knew every one of them by name; had fought beside them, cried beside them, and worked beside them. No longer their American queen, I was one of them. The fragile girl who’d crossed the bridge searching for her prince had found more than romance—of course, Jamie was the love of my life, but I’d also found a family, faith, and purpose.
From far below, a strain of fiddle and pipe caught the wind and wove through the trees. Joining my people in spirit, I picked up my skirt and danced a quick jig, swishing the fabric around my calves. A giggle bubbled out of my throat as I twirled in a quick circle.
“Tha’ be the most bonny sight I’ve seen in days.”
Choking on a laugh, I spun to face my prince leaning against a shade tree, arms crossed over his chest. Broad and strong, disheveled gold hair sticking out at odd angles, his tan cheeks streaked with dirt, he still managed to look magnificent. With determined strides, I climbed the path toward him. His dark eyes glinted, before a wide smile spread across his face, pulling out the dimple in his right cheek.
Ignoring the funny things the sight of him was doing to my heart, I poked a finger into his chest. “What are you up to, Laird MacCrae?”
He raised a brow. “Up to?”
“Don’t play dumb! You know what I mean. What have you been doing every day?”
Jamie raked a hand through his hair, taming one side. “I dinna know what ye’re referrin’ to.”
“You know I hate surprises.” With a frustrated growl, I balled my fist and hit his arm as hard as I could. It was like punching rock.
He rubbed his bicep. “Och, lass, ye pack a wallop for such a tiny thing.”
Covertly rubbing my stinging knuckles on the inside of my elbow, I crossed my arms again, and tapped my foot in impatience. “I order you to show me what you’ve been doing . . . as your queen.” I lifted my chin and arched a brow, unleashing the Evil Highney.
“Oh do ye, now?” His gaze intent, Jamie pushed off the tree and took three long strides toward me.
With a half laugh, half squeal, I backpedaled fast, but he reached out and clasped my arms, stopping my retreat. He tugged me against his chest and then lowered his mouth to mine. I raised my arms and threaded my fingers in his hair, the world spinning around me as his lips ignited sparks all over my body. It took every ounce of my willpower to end the kiss and push out of his arms. “Your distractions won’t work this time!”
“Then let me try again.” He quirked a wicked grin and reached for me. “I know I can do better, Yer Highness.”
As tempting as that was, I shook my head. “No. Show me now.”
Our eyes clashed as we stared each other down. Birds tweeted, crickets chirped, wind rattled the leaves, and finally he huffed out a sigh. “Fine. If you really must know . . .” He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket. “And knowin’ you, I’ll get little peace until ye do.” He spun me around and wrapped the cloth around my eyes. “Ye’ll need ta let me blindfold ye.”
As he tightened the knot at the back of my head, I blinked and strained my eyes, but couldn’t see a thing. “Wait! I didn’t agree—”
“Hush! If ye insist on ruining the surprise, ye’ll let me have my way on this.” He
looped his arm around my waist and guided me up the trail.
“Do ye remember the mornin’ after our night in the huntin’ lodge?”
That twenty-four hours—our first kiss, the revelation that I loved him enough to let him go, and watching him be crowned king while believing the title would separate us forever—was burned into my brain. “Yes.”
Jamie’s grip tightened on my waist. “Step up over this log.”
Blindly, I lifted my foot, probing the air with my toes until I felt something solid. I tapped my foot against the log, measuring its height. Impatient, Jamie scooped me into his arms and continued on. “What about on our way down the mountain, when I guided you off the path?”
The sound of voices and banging filled the air, followed by a grating noise like someone cutting wood. I searched my memory of that long-ago day, but my overwhelming heartache that those would be our last moments together clouded everything. “Um . . .”
As we walked, the construction sounds grew louder, punctuated by occasional laughter.
“I teased you about needin’ a wee bit o’ privacy if I should take a queen . . .”
Then it hit me. The spot with the spectacular view where I’d suggested someone should build a house. “Jamie . . . you didn’t!” Realizing we’d stopped moving and the noise had quieted, I reached up and tugged the blindfold off my head.
Blinking the sun from my eyes, it took me a moment to see the cabin made of wood and stone, perched on the edge of the mountain. My friends and half the Crew stood outside of the cottage holding tools and grinning from ear to ear—Gabby, Sofia, Duncan, Eòran, Cheska, Fergus, and even Fiona with her “wee” baby bump ballooning out her skirt. Blaz sat beside my pregnant friend, his tongue lolling out of his enormous head. My dog had taken to following Fiona around, as if he sensed the tiny life within her needed his protection.