She’d brought the stone along, hoping to find something in the library that would help. But if she couldn’t even get into the library, they’d be back to square one.
Finally, there were faint footsteps on the other side of the door, and the knob turned with a hard jolt. She braced herself for Bastien, the angry security man who hated her, but it was the green-clad, soft-spoken Tehgan who’d answered the knock. “Come in,” he said without expression as he moved back.
She walked in slowly, and the door was closed behind her. Other than Tehgan, the great main room appeared empty — though the shadows at the corner of the massive fireplace, the place she imagined she’d seen a hooded figure staring at her the last time she’d been here, felt almost alive with gloom.
Frowning, she faced the man in green. “Where’s Duncan?”
“Master Aislinn is … indisposed this evening.”
Tehgan hadn’t moved. The voice came from the shadows, now shifting and coalescing into the imaginary figure — which stepped into the light and proved real. A tall, wiry man in a black hooded robe, belted at the waist, his hands pressed together before him like an inverted prayer.
He glided across the room toward her, stopped maybe ten feet away, and reached up to lower the hood. Narrow face, long black hair, an elaborately braided beard marbled with white streaks. His eyes were amber, nearly glowing, his smile a wintry slash revealing teeth that looked almost pointed, for a moment.
“Miss Finlay.” When he spoke in a smooth baritone, the predatory aura all but vanished — though she could still feel its echoes in her heart. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” he said. “My name is Emory Darach. I am Duncan’s advisor.”
She swallowed, determined to hold his gaze despite a strong desire to look away. “Hello,” she said cautiously. “Advisor for what?”
“That, my dear, is a very complex question.” He moved closer, and the gleam in his eyes pierced her. “To simplify things, I am also his friend. And that’s why I’ve met you here tonight — because, as his friend, I am concerned with his wellbeing. Which means that you concern me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Duncan is not well.” The man called Emory tented his hands in front of his waist, thumbs together and long fingers pointing down. “He is recovering from … an illness, and he is still very weak. Your visits with him, while undoubtedly pleasing, are slowing his progress considerably.”
She blinked more than once. There was a definite threat in his otherwise soothing tone, and part of her absolutely feared it — but she was too angry to allow the fear. She did not like being threatened. “Duncan invited me here, and I’m pretty sure he’s in charge. Not you,” she said. “If he wants me to stop visiting, he can tell me himself.”
Emory glared at her. “As I’ve already informed you, he is indisposed.”
“Then I guess I’ll ask him the next time, since I came here to do my job. The one Duncan hired me for.” She returned the stare unblinking, though her stomach quivered with unease. “And yes, I’m coming back. Unless Duncan tells me otherwise.”
He bared his teeth, and again she thought she saw fangs for an instant. But Emory pulled himself together with apparent strain, and said, “Very well. Tehgan will escort you to the library. But I warn you, Miss Finlay … I will not permit harm to come to Duncan. From anyone.”
“Good thing I’m not here to harm him, then,” she shot back.
The man shook his head once, and then turned and drifted back to the shadows without another word. And when she looked at Tehgan, she could’ve sworn he was smirking at Emory’s back.
Maybe she’d impressed the inscrutable bodyguard, or whatever he was, and maybe not. It was impossible to tell. For now, she’d just enjoy the feeling that she’d passed some kind of test — and hope she wouldn’t have to take it again.
She could happily go the rest of her life without encountering Emory Darach.
Chapter 49
Aislinn Castle – The Library
Eager as she was to translate the runes, Rain spent nearly an hour cleaning and attempting to organize the hopeless mess of a library first. She told herself it was because she had a job to do, and she’d already been partially paid for it — but mostly, she was afraid of the cursing stone. Of failing to unlock the mysteries and having more people die.
Or finding out the source of the magic was something they couldn’t fight.
When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she dusted herself off as best she could and fetched the old broom to sweep her so-called purified circle clean. Casting circles was a basic component for a druid, and it should’ve been easy as breathing — but it never had been for her. The salt, the candles, the words, she’d always gotten one thing or another wrong. And after five years away from the life, she’d lost the little skill she had before.
But for some reason, Kincaid’s difficult, no-tools desperation method worked better for her than the traditional circle casting.
She stood in the center of the cleared spot and envisioned light, cool and white, flowing from her extended finger as she inscribed a circle. The light came to her faster every time, and for a moment she could actually see the glowing circle around her, like the edges of a full moon — or like the halo it sometimes cast, what the superstitious called a faerie ring.
A shudder went through her at the idea, easing only when the imagined light vanished.
She drew a determined breath, took the stone from her pocket and focused on it. “All right. Help me out, here,” she muttered, looking slowly around the room. “Anything.”
Toward the back of the library, something glowed faintly. A scroll tucked on a high shelf, half-hidden behind a thick book.
Rain slipped a shoe off, leaving it inside the circle to keep it unbroken while she made her way to the shelf and retrieved the scroll. It was thick, heavy parchment the color of coffee stains, tied at the center with a dusty black velvet ribbon. She undid the knot as she made her way back to the circle, hardly realizing she was holding her breath as she unrolled the stiff paper.
At the top, handwritten in fine, elegant script, was a title: Lineage of the Unseelie Court. Below that was a brief paragraph, followed by lines upon lines of names, numbers, and descriptions that meant nothing. No runes, no mention of runes anywhere in the document.
She kept unrolling the parchment, skimming for any hint of runes or symbols. Finally, she came to the bottom, where the scroll was signed like a letter.
The signature read Morgana Le Fay.
Without thinking, she let out a breathless cry and dropped the scroll. “No,” she said aloud. “There’s no such person. Morgana, Arthur, Merlin, they never existed.”
The words helped her catch a breath, and she snatched the scroll and closed the circle. “You’re not real,” she murmured, glaring a challenge as if the parchment would try to contradict her. “But if those runes have something to do with the Unseelie…”
She happened to know someone who may or may not be Unseelie. All she had to do was find him.
Chapter 50
Aislinn Castle – Control Room
The man calling himself Emory wasn’t pleased when Duncan told him to take only half of the usual offering from Tehgan. But with the new moon only two nights away, he didn’t want to risk weakening the sparks of his Seelie companions. Both Tehgan and his wife Aithne would need to conserve their magic, if Bastien was right about his recent discovery.
Duncan drank the half-cup of blood with only a slight grimace, took a moment to feel the new strength coursing through him, and then placed his hands on the armrests of the wheelchair. “It’s time,” he said as he pushed himself slowly to his feet.
“Sire!” Obviously forgetting the order not to call him that anymore, Tehgan shot from the chair across from him and ran to his side. “You mustn’t strain yourself.”
“I’m fine, Tehgan. Thank you.” He fixed his gaze on Emory behind the Seelie’s vacated chair
and took a single determined, if shaky step, and then another. The magician’s face gave away nothing. “There, you see?” he said. “The girl isn’t slowing me down.”
“She is, and you know it.” His advisor came around the chair. “Arthur, she has the same steel in her. Guinevere’s steel. She is dangerous.”
He shook his head sadly. “You’re wrong, old friend,” he said. “Whatever strength she has, it comes from her mother. Regina, not Guinevere. My queen is gone.”
“Not for long,” Emory said under his breath.
“I heard that. And … for God’s sake, Tehgan, will you please stop hovering?”
The Seelie was right at his elbow, holding a hand out as if to catch him. “If you’d please sit down,” he returned calmly. “You are bathed in sweat.”
“He’s right. That’s enough for tonight,” Emory said, not unkindly.
Duncan sighed and made his way back to the damned wheelchair. Those steps were harder to take than the first ones, but he suspected it was due to his reluctance. He was tired of being crippled, unable to stand or ride, barely able to hold a sword.
Yet he still couldn’t muster the appropriate amount of fury toward the one who’d done this to him. He still didn’t want him dead — a fact he hadn’t been able to share with Merlin. Yes, it had to be done.
But with all his soul, he wished it didn’t.
He settled into the chair, wheeled around and headed for the space-age control board where Bastien sat watching the monitors. “I see you’ve installed a camera in the library,” he said quietly.
“You did give me permission to continue spying on her.” Bastien turned to face him, his features somber. “I’m beginning to think I shouldn’t, though. She’s…”
He nodded in understanding when the other man didn’t continue. Rhiannon Finlay was absolutely beguiling. Strong, smart, determined. So many had loved her in every form she’d taken, but none as much as himself — save for Lancelot, now Bastien. “What of the circle?” he said. “You’re certain you’ve located it?”
“Yes. And Merlin assures me that we can destroy it at the new moon.”
“Perhaps we won’t have to kill him after all.” Emory’s voice just behind him stopped his heart for a moment. “If we can strand him there permanently, we’ll have nothing to worry about. She needs him.”
Duncan nodded slowly. He hated the idea of leaving him forever in the Between, possibly even more than killing him. But it was necessary. Perhaps he could carve some sort of life for himself in that blasted wasteland.
He doubted that, very much.
“She needs the girl, too,” Emory said in wickedly persuasive tones. “If we just killed her—”
“Absolutely not.” Duncan turned to face the magician with a fiery glare. “She’s not to be harmed, and that’s an order. Understand?”
“Of course. Your majesty.”
Duncan didn’t bother correcting him. If he had to assert his right to rule in order to protect Rain, it was the least he could do. Especially after what happened to her mother.
Guinevere or not, she would be protected.
Chapter 51
Parthas, Eastern Shore – The Moors
Rain drove her father’s mini Cooper as far as she dared into the moorland, stopping before the ground got truly bogged with mud. Once the check from Duncan cleared, she intended to buy her own transportation. Maybe a motorcycle like Kincaid’s, or a motorized cart like the one his mother used. For now, she’d promised not so much as a scratch would mar Lachlan’s beloved car.
She didn’t even want to imagine what he’d do if she sunk it in a bog.
Her heart pounded as she got out and started walking across the ground, switching on the small flashlight she’d stashed in the car. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, its light barely touching the immense darkness that surrounded her. But the black night wasn’t the only reason her nerves were on edge.
Mostly, it was Kieran. She couldn’t figure him out — he felt at once completely safe, and incredibly dangerous. He stirred feelings in her she’d never experience before and couldn’t put a name to. It wasn’t like Kincaid, or even Duncan. And it didn’t help that he was the most gorgeous man, or whatever he was, she’d ever laid eyes on.
She also had no idea whether she’d be able to find him.
Instinct made her decide not to actually search him out. She’d probably end up wandering the moorland for hours with nothing to show for it. But he’d found her before … so maybe he could find her again.
She stopped in the field of wood betony where he’d appeared to her once before, pointed the flashlight down and closed her eyes. “Kieran,” she whispered hesitantly. “Are you here somewhere? I need to talk to you.”
A faint breeze feathered her hair, but she felt nothing else. Heard not a sound.
She cleared her throat and spoke louder, feeling a little ridiculous. “Kieran, can you hear me?” she said. “I need you.”
This time she felt something. Warm and fast, like a shock. The world seemed to lighten a bit beyond her closed eyes, so she opened them — and saw a shimmering flash of light, maybe twenty feet to her left.
A dark figure tumbled from the light and collapsed on the ground.
“Kieran!” She ran toward the place where the light had appeared, directing the flashlight onto the fallen figure. It was him, still dressed in next to nothing with those strange tapered-cuff bracelets. Half-transparent with the grass he’d landed on showing clearly beneath him.
And covered with blood.
He moaned and struggled upright just before she reached him, holding out a warning hand. “She summons me, now,” he said, attempting a smile. Blood on his mouth, blood in his left eye, a nasty bruise high on his cheek. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Oh, God, what happened to you?” She reached for him, but he flinched back fast. “I just want to help,” she said.
“You can’t.” The words were flat, almost snarled out, but he tried again to smile as he struggled to his feet. There were cuts across his stomach, ragged slashes in parallel lines. “Don’t worry, aillidh. It’s not that simple to kill me.”
She shivered. “Someone’s trying to kill you?”
“Something, actually.” He grimaced and glanced over his shoulder. “But I can’t die,” he said. “At least not here, not like this. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look—”
“Fine,” he insisted sternly. “A little busy at the moment, though. So whatever you want, I’d appreciate it if you’d make it quick.”
She gave a startled blink and rushed out her request. “I wanted to ask if you could read something,” she said, pulling the cursing stone from her pocket. “These runes.”
A frown creased his battered brow as he looked down, and what little color remained in his ghostly face drained. “By the gods,” he murmured. “I’d not thought it possible. Already—” He cut himself off forcefully. “Aye, I can read them,” he said. “Though I’m not certain I should. Not for you, at any rate.”
“What do you mean, not for me?”
“Still don’t know who you are.” He shook his head and winced into a smirk as he folded an arm across his stomach. “Well, Rain Finlay,” he said. “That stone bears the name of the one who’s casting powerful curses about.”
She shivered. “What’s the name?”
“One I’ve heard tossed about this place from time to time.” He met her gaze, and his green eyes burned. “It says Glynis Mulloy.”
Her breath rushed from her so fast, she nearly fainted. It couldn’t be Glynis. “Are you sure?” she finally managed.
“Aye. It’s right here.” He pointed a ghostly, trembling finger and traced the runes inked around the hole through the center of the stone.
She stared at the stone. There were two more rings of runes beyond the inner one, and the symbols were different. “What else does it say?”
“Nothing.”
Kieran practically spat
the word, and she knew he was lying. “You mean you won’t tell me anything else, because of whoever you think I am,” she said. “Right?”
“I mean nothing.” He hitched a breath, looked away, and she caught a flash of intense sorrow on his face before it hardened again. “You’d best run and find this Glynis, before someone else ends up facing down a cursed black dog. I’ve no wish to kill another of them.”
Her throat clenched as she remembered the black dog’s piteous whine near the end, how she’d felt the emotions rolling from the creature — fear, sadness, rage. “I don’t want to either,” she said softly. “Kieran … isn’t there anything else you can tell me?”
His eyes focused on hers. “Only this,” he said. “Understand that Glynis is no more.”
The words chilled her to the core. “What?” she whispered. “But you just said—”
“Blasted foul beasts!” he snarled suddenly, whirling aside as if he’d just evaded an unseen blow. “I must go,” he said. “And you must not hesitate. Remember that.”
“Hesitate to what?”
He stumbled back with a garbled cry, and she saw … something, bearing his transparent form to the ground. A living skeleton. The animated bones of an enormous wolf with glittering red eyes, snarling past massive fangs and swiping wicked claws that extended from feet made of bone and sinew.
Kieran and the apparition vanished, leaving a heavy blanket of silence behind.
Chapter 52
Finlay Cabin – Evening
“That’s not possible.”
Rain sagged slightly as her father spoke without turning around from his work table. Of course he didn’t believe it. She didn’t want to, either — but the more she thought about it, the more horrifying sense it made.
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