by Katy Baker
Cam’s heart thudded as he realized where his treacherous feet had brought him. The Stones of Druach. Where it all began. Where he’d stood with his brothers and made his bargain. Fate, it seemed, had brought him full circle.
Mirth suddenly bubbled up inside him and a hysterical laugh burst from his throat.
“Ha!” he yelled at the stones. “Well met! A fine trick!” Spreading his arms wide he stumbled into the center of the ring and turned in a slow circle. “Well, here I am!” he yelled. “Isnae this what ye desired? What are ye waiting for? Ye wanted my life? Here it is! Take it, damn ye!”
His shout faded into silence, swallowed by the wind and the sighing of the sea. There was no reply. Cam crashed to his knees. Of course, there wouldn’t be an answer. The Fae had already taken everything. They’d wanted his life, but that hadn’t meant death. No honorable end in battle, fighting to save his clan. Oh no. That would have been too neat. Too easy. They’d desired something far worse.
And they’ve got it, Cam thought. I canna do this anymore. It’s over.
A sudden pain seared through his arm. The tattoo—the mark of the Fae—was glowing white hot. This close to the Stones of Druach, the place that gave it birth, the power of his curse was all-consuming. The rage flashed through his blood like magma, bringing with it unbearable pain and a desire for violence that almost wiped away his reason.
Cam clung onto his thoughts, resisted its pull. He would not give in. He would not become a mad man. Not again. Not ever.
With a howl of pain, he collapsed onto his back, wrapping his arms around himself and gritting his teeth as the searing agony rampaged through his body. He convulsed, his legs thrashing against the ground, his fingernails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood.
Let go, his curse whispered to him. Give in. All ye have to do is kill and the pain will go away. Why fight it?
Because I choose to, he answered himself. Because I willnae be that man ever again.
He realized suddenly that Irene MacAskill was right. There was another path he could choose. It had always been open to him, had he the courage to take it. All he had to do was let his curse consume him.
Lying on his back inside the stone circle, Cam stared up at the sky as it slowly began to darken. Stars lit the night and then the moon rose, bathing the landscape in silver. Cam barely saw it. Blinding agony ripped through him. It felt as though hot daggers were being stabbed into his organs. It felt as though the skin was being flayed from his bones.
Kill! Kill! Kill! screamed the rage.
Cam gritted his teeth and endured the pain. He brought images of Beth to mind. Her smile, her laugh, the way her skin felt under his touch, the indescribable feeling of completeness as he made love to her.
“Beth,” he whispered to the darkening sky. “Forgive me.”
It would not be long now. He could sense the reserves of his body weakening. As his curse raged through him, it was slowly draining him, burning away his life energy. He drew a deep, agonizing breath and waited to die.
But suddenly he heard movement, the sound of approaching footsteps. Instinct sent him staggering to his feet, hand grasping for a sword that was no longer there.
“Who is it?” he rasped, his voice a hollow croak. “Who’s there?”
A voice answered from the darkness. “It’s me, Camdan.”
A man stepped into the moonlight. He was taller than Cam, and broad-shouldered from long hours working at the forge. Dark hair like their father’s framed a stern face and serious eyes.
“It’s me,” said Logan MacAuley. “I’ve come to bring ye home, little brother.”
BETH WATCHED IN STRICKEN silence as Cam rose to his feet and faced his brother. All the blood drained from his face, leaving him deathly pale. In the moonlight his blue eyes looked like chips of ice.
She crouched in the shadows outside the stone circle with Thea, Logan’s wife, a woman who, it turned out to Beth’s total shock, was a time traveler like herself.
Duncan MacConnell had delivered Beth to Dun Ringill in the early afternoon and the laird and his wife had seen her immediately after she told the guards why she was there. Logan, a slightly older, dark-haired version of Cam, had listened intently as Beth gabbled, letting her words flood out in a deluge, no longer caring whether he thought her story of time-travel the ramblings of a mad woman.
But he didn’t think that. He had risen from his chair and led Beth and Thea to the stables where he’d ordered horses saddled. A brief argument between the laird and his wife followed. Logan wanted her to stay behind, citing her obvious pregnancy as a reason, but Thea, it seemed was just as formidable as her husband, and she’d got her own way in the end.
The three of them had thundered out the gates of Dun Ringill and back to the place where Beth last saw Cam. He was long gone, of course, but Logan was an expert tracker and they’d followed his trail all afternoon, riding the horses into exhaustion to catch up with him.
Now, Beth crouched with Thea and watched as Logan approached his brother, moving slowly as though Cam was a wild animal that might bolt at any minute. Cam’s tattoo was blazing and his blond hair was plastered to his head with sweat. Dark shadows filled the hollows under his eyes and the contours of his cheekbones. He stood rigidly, staring at his brother with eyes full of wary disbelief.
Beth’s heart broke at the sight of him. She had to help him! She tried to rise to her feet but Thea caught her and pulled her back.
“No,” she whispered urgently. “We mustn’t interfere. This is between them. Wait and watch.”
Beth drew in a ragged breath and nodded.
CAM STARED AT THE APPARITION in front of him. It looked like his brother. Lord above, it even sounded like his brother. He looked a little older maybe, but in all other respects Logan looked exactly as he had when they’d parted on that dark night all those years ago.
But it couldn’t be.
Cam threw back his head and laughed, his mirth slicing the air like a knife. “Ah! What will ye throw at me next? My mother? My father? Will ye never tire of tormenting me?”
The apparition of Logan spread its hands wide and took a step closer. The dark eyes reflected the moonlight and they were fixed right on Cam, as stern and serious as Cam remembered.
“I’m nay here to torment ye,” Logan said, his voice a low rumble in the night. “And this isnae a trick. It’s me, Logan. I canna believe I’ve found ye after all these years. I’ve come to take ye home.”
Cam hesitated. Could it really be him? Logan wore the MacAuley plaid like Cam, but Logan’s was clean and made from a rich fabric. The laird’s sash was tied diagonally across his chest and their father’s sword hung from his hip.
“Do ye think me a fool?” Cam growled, flexing his fingers as the rage surged in him. “Do ye think I would fall for yer tricks? There isnae a way home for me. I agreed to that bargain, remember? I stood in this very circle and traded it away.”
Logan shook his head. “Ye are wrong, brother. There is always a way back. Or how else could I be here? I was cursed too, remember? Cursed so that everyone forgot who I was and anyone who stayed close to me would die. Yet here I am.”
Cam sucked in a breath. His fingers clenched into fists and he pulled his lips back from his teeth in a snarl. “What are ye talking about?”
Logan took another step. He was careful, Cam noticed, not to make any sudden movements and to keep his hand away from his weapon.
“I thought as ye did for a long time. I lived a half-life, on the edges of the world, thinking it just payment for the bargain we struck with the Fae, the bargain that saved our people. Then someone showed me otherwise and I found a way to break that curse. It can be the same for ye, brother. We will find a way to fix all this. All ye have to do is come home with me.”
Logan held out his hand, his dark eyes boring into Cam. The moon shone down on the stones of Druach, illuminating the glade but outside the ring of standing stones the night was utterly dark. There was no sound.
Even the sighing of the sea seemed to have fallen silent. Cam hesitated. Despite himself, he couldn’t stop the flare of hope that ignited at Logan’s words.
“This isnae a trick,” Logan breathed. “Please, brother. Come home.”
The voice was Logan’s. The earnest, serious expression was Logan’s. Cam found himself taking a step towards his brother, and then another. He reached out and clasped his brother’s hand in the warrior’s grip.
It was a mistake.
The moment his skin came into contact with Logan’s, the rage of his curse roared up in him like an inferno. It came upon him so suddenly and so violently he had no time to prepare his defenses. With a strangled cry, his free will was swept away in a torrent of searing rage.
Cam looked at Logan and he no longer saw his elder brother. He no longer saw the man who’d taught him to ride or the man who’d interceded with their parents countless times when Cam had gotten himself into trouble. He didn’t see the man who’d always had his back, who’d always been at his side when he needed him. Instead he saw the man who was the cause of all Cam’s troubles. It was Logan who’d made the bargain with the Fae. It was Logan who’d dragged Camdan and Finlay into it. It was Logan’s fault that Camdan had become a monster, bereft of everything he’d once held dear.
It was Logan’s fault Cam had sent Beth away.
With a howl of animal rage, Cam grabbed Logan’s sword and drew it, the sound shrill and unnatural in the still air. From somewhere nearby he thought he heard a woman’s horrified scream but he ignored it. All that mattered was ending this man, the cause of all his problems. He swung their father’s blade at Logan with all his strength, the metal glittering silver as it cut through the air.
Logan’s expression didn’t change. There was no fear on his face, only calm resignation. But as the blade swung for him he ducked under it, stepping neatly to the side and turning to face his brother, keeping Cam in full view and a distance of several meters between them.
“I willnae fight ye, brother,” Logan said calmly. “Put down the sword.”
Kill him! Kill him! raged the curse, surging through Cam’s blood like liquid fire. His grip tightened on the sword hilt and he swung again, putting all his strength into a sideways slash that would have taken Logan’s head off. Only Logan wasn’t there anymore. Again, he danced nimbly away, lighter on his feet than a man of his size had any right to be. He met Cam’s gaze and his eyes were shining with tears.
“Oh, my brother,” he whispered. “What has been done to ye?”
This only made Cam angrier. His vision shifted and he no longer saw Logan. It was MacGregor standing in front of him, grinning widely.
“What are ye waiting for?” he said. “Ye want to kill me, dinna ye? Then do it. That’s what ye are after all, isnae it? A mindless killer? That’s what Beth thinks. Ye disgust her. Do ye know what she sees when she looks at ye? A monster. A rabid dog that needs to be put down. So why fight it? Be what ye are.”
“I’ll kill ye,” Cam panted. “I’ll kill ye.”
But MacGregor just danced out of the way of his flashing blade, making no move to defend himself.
“Is that the best ye can do?” MacGregor hissed. “The mighty Camdan MacAuley, greatest warrior of Clan MacAuley. Ha! Ye are nothing more than a snivelling wretch!”
The vision shifted again and now it wasn’t MacGregor standing before him, but a small, wizened old man with a hairless head and black eyes like pools of ink. Despite the rage of the curse, a sliver of fear slid through his stomach. He recognized this man. He wasn’t a man at all but a Fae, the same creature he’d struck the bargain with all that time ago. The man grinned at him, eyes flashing with malevolence. In his hand he carried a branding iron. Its shape exactly matched the tattoo burned into Cam’s forearm. Its tip glowed white-hot.
“Aye,” the creature said, tilting his head as he regarded Cam with those dark eyes. “I’m most disappointed. Ye’ve turned out to be as weak as yer brothers and provide nay sport at all. Ye must fight, Camdan! Fight yer curse! The more ye wriggle, the tighter it becomes! Oh, such sweet torture!”
Camdan howled in rage. He sprang forward, swinging his father’s sword in a series of lightning slashes that would have skewered any normal opponent. All reason evaporated. He must kill this creature. He must end it. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.
His tattoo flared hotter than it ever had, and the light that blared out from it was blinding. Dimly, some corner of his mind that still held onto sanity whispered a warning. This wasn’t right. He was being tricked again. But the voice wasn’t loud enough to drown out the rage that burned through him. His curse demanded release. It was time.
Time to let it destroy him.
Chapter 16
Beside Beth, Thea screamed. “He’s going to kill Logan!”
She clambered to her feet but then winced, one hand going to her swollen belly. She was pale and breathing heavily.
“Logan!” she breathed. “Holy shit, Beth. We have to stop this!”
Beth nodded. A cold, hard knot of fear had formed in her stomach, and it was all she could do to stop herself shaking. “You can’t go running up there in your condition. Stay here.”
“But I have to help Logan,” Thea said fiercely.
“You have to stay here,” Beth repeated, more firmly this time. “For your baby’s sake.”
Thea looked about to argue but then she nodded. She grabbed Beth’s arm. “You have to stop them, Beth. Bring this madness to an end.”
“I know,” she replied with more confidence than she felt. “Trust me and stay here, right?”
Thea nodded. Beth turned to face the stone circle. Her stomach turned over. She was pretty sure Cam didn’t see his brother anymore. His eyes were glazed, his lips curled in a snarl, the tattoo blazing on his arm so bright it lit the stone circle like a torch.
She had to stop this. If Cam killed his brother, he would never forgive himself. It would be the end of him.
She ran towards the stones, paying no heed to the mud that squished under her feet or the cold sea breeze that ripped at her hair.
But as she reached the circle, light suddenly flared and Beth was tossed through the air as though she was a piece of flotsam. She landed heavily on muddy grass, all the wind knocked out of her. Gulping in breaths, she flipped onto her stomach and looked around wildly. On the edges of her hearing, so faint she could almost believe she was imagining it, she thought she heard laughter.
“Fool!” A voice whispered on the sea breeze. “Do ye really think ye can defeat me? Paltry human! Ye have no power against the might of the Fae!”
A shiver went down Beth’s spine. The voice dripped with malevolence and she felt as if cold, pitiless eyes were watching her. Anger welled up inside. Beth had always championed the little guy. The one who got trodden into the dirt by people and corporations more powerful than they were. This was what was happening here. The Fae creature with whom Cam had made his bargain had destroyed his life for no more reason than it could. Because it liked to watch him struggle, like a fly caught in a spider’s web.
Fury pounded through Beth’s veins. The injustice of it made her seethe. She struggled to her feet. “You think you’ve won?” she shouted into the wind. “You think it’s that easy? Think again, buster!”
Pulling in a deep breath, Beth stalked across the damp ground to the edge of the circle. Squinting, she peered closer and made out a faint distortion in the air like heat haze. It shimmered between the stones, creating an invisible barrier.
Damn it! How the hell was she supposed to get through this? She thought furiously, dredging up everything she’d learned of the Fae.
They are of the mountains and the rivers, Cam had once told her. Of the air and the sea. They hold power over the creatures and people of the Highlands and they will exercise that power however they see fit, regardless of the consequences.
Beth paused. Power over the people of the Highlands? But she wasn’t from the Highlands. She wasn’t from
Scotland at all. Hell, she wasn’t even from this time.
Maybe that’s why Irene came to the future, she thought. Maybe only a person over whom the Fae hold no power could do what needs to be done.
Irene herself had never used any sort of coercion on Beth. Instead, she had talked about choice and free will. That’s what it’s always been about, Beth thought as sudden understanding filled her. Our choices. They are what shape us and determine our destiny.
Lifting her chin and setting her jaw in determination, Beth took a step. “You have no power over me! I am from another land, another time, and I deny you!” She pulled her cell phone from her pocket. It was ruined now, just a lump of wires and plastic, but it was the only thing she still had from the twenty-first century. It was an anomaly that shouldn’t be here. A piece of technology to negate the magic of the Fae.
Closing her eyes, Beth fixed her thoughts on her far distant homeland. She thought of TV commercials and video games. She thought of speeding cars and airplanes and taxis pelting along at crazy speeds. She thought of hospitals and medicines, and life-saving surgeries. She thought of all the things that made her anathema to the ancient magic of the Fae.
Then she took a step forward.
For a moment she felt something brush her skin, something like the stinging of wasps, but then the barrier vanished and Beth found herself stumbling into the ring of stones.
Ahead of her Cam and Logan were still locked in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse. Logan had a long gash down his left arm and he was obviously tiring. His movements as he dodged his brother’s attacks were getting slower. Cam though, was still lightning fast, his movements almost a blur, his lips pulled back, showing his teeth in a snarl, and his eyes blazed with the same light that lit his tattoo.
Logan suddenly stumbled, losing his balance for a fraction of a second. Cam seized his chance. He leapt forward and brought the sword over his head in a two-handed grip, ready to deal a killing blow.