Darkest Highlander (15 page)

Now Broc was listening. This was information they could use. All he had to do was discover the spot and get to it before Deirdre. After freeing himself from Cairn Toul first, however.

“Ah, I see that got your attention.” Deirdre once more rubbed her hands along Broc’s chest. “I will find all the artifacts, and I will have Reaghan in my clutches. There is nothing you can do to stop me. I’m too powerful, Broc. There isn’t a Druid alive who can compare to my magic. They all know it. Which is why they hide.”

“They hide because you hunt and kill them.”

She chuckled. “Thanks to you and the MacLeods, my army of Warriors is gone. It’s going to take me weeks to build it up again.”

“My heart bleeds.”

She cut her eyes to him and lifted her lip in a sneer. “You will be my first. You will take lead over my Warriors.”

“I willna.”

“You know I can make you. I will send you after the second artifact to ensure it’s mine. Then, I will send you to the MacLeods. You can spy on them for a day or two before you kill the others and bring me the Druids and the MacLeods.”

Broc shook his head. “Never.”

“Few can withstand the evil once it seeps into your soul,” she said as she leaned close. “With your god inside you it will only spread the evil quicker. You won’t stand a chance.”

“If the artifact is so important to you, why doona you get it yourself?”

“I cannot get to it.”

Her confession surprised him. “The artifact must be of great importance if someone has gone to so much trouble to keep you out.”

Then, a plan formed all of a sudden. It was reckless and would most likely turn his friends against him, but he had to try. “I’ll get the artifact for you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You want it now. I will fight you as you waste precious days killing me and bringing me back, days the MacLeods could have learned where the artifact is and retrieve it themselves.”

Deirdre’s eyes were hard and icy. “Why are you so willing?”

“In exchange for leaving the MacLeods and all who reside at the castle alone.”

“An appealing bargain, but one I’m not willing to accept. Those of you who betrayed me will be punished. The Druids who thought going to the MacLeods would save them will die at my hands. And you already know my plan for the MacLeods.”

Broc gripped the chains and wished he could pull them from the wall. But they were held with magic, a magic too strong for even his strength to break through.

He remembered then that Isla had said there was a spell, a chant Deirdre used to unlock the shackles. Was it the same chant Deirdre used on other things? Broc’s mind raced to remember the words, words he thought to never use.

“No quip, Broc? Nothing clever to say?” Deirdre said.

“Apparently no’.”

She trailed her hand down his arm to where his hand gripped the chains. “You are a striking man, but I always did prefer you in your Warrior form. The indigo skin and those magnificent wings of yours. Very impressive.”

“Where is the next artifact?” He figured he had nothing to lose.

Deirdre cocked her head to the side. “You think I will just tell you?”

“Aye. You are full of your own importance and think I will never get free.”

“You won’t,” she stated. “You are mine now.”

“Then what harm will come to tell me?”

For several moments Deirdre silently watched him, calculating. “Glencoe.”

Broc hid his surprise. He had never expected her to reveal the location, especially not so easily. There had to be a reason. Deirdre was too manipulative, too shrewd to give away information so freely.

“Shocked?” Deirdre asked, her brows raised. “I realize you are correct. You will not leave my mountain until you are completely mine to control, so telling you does no harm. Besides, I want you to know just how futile it is to hope the MacLeods might learn of this artifact.”

“Then tell me the rest,” Broc urged. He knew there was more. There was always more where Deirdre was concerned.

“I found scrolls tucked away in an old Druid village. The occupants were long gone, the buildings falling to ruin.”

“You mean a village you destroyed.”

She grinned. “Of course. If I had known then what those
mies
were hiding, I might not have been so hasty to burn everything.”

“If the scrolls burned, how did you find them?”

“They were protected by magic. Time and the elements did more to them than the fire I began.”

Broc narrowed his gaze. “And you were able to read the scrolls?”

“After a bit of my own magic, aye.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s in Glencoe?”

“You really should work on your patience, Broc,” she said with a grin.

He glared at her, wishing he could claw out her evil white eyes.

“All right,” she said with a laugh. “It’s a Celtic burial mound.”

Broc shook his head. “They are no’ to be disturbed, Deirdre. The Celts put great measures in place so that harm will come to those who enter.”

“I know,” Deirdre said and walked in a large circle away from Broc. She clasped her hands behind her back and looked at the stones as if they were the greatest work of art. “I assure you that as a Warrior, you will be able to get inside and acquire the artifact.”

“And what is the artifact?”

She stopped and shrugged. “That I don’t know.”

“The mighty Deirdre absent information?”

Deirdre rolled her eyes. “The scrolls had magic, remember? They burst into flames when my magic came in contact with them.”

Broc snorted. “Too bad they didna burn before you were able to get the information you do have.”

“If that happened, I wouldn’t be able to tell you that you alone can open the tomb. I also wouldn’t be able to tell you there will be markings around the door, markings created by the Celts and filled with magic by the Druids.”

“How does knowing of the markings help?”

“Do you know how many burial mounds there are?”

Broc shook his head, disgusted to even be having the conversation with Deirdre. The fact only he could open the tomb gave him a bit of an advantage. If he could get free, he could find the tomb and get the artifact.

“Why the interest in these artifacts?”

“To help me rule the world.”

“It’s a big world. You willna be able to conquer all of it.”

“I have always made it clear I will do anything and everything to ensure I rule all.”

“And you really think you will win?”

“I know I will. Shall I prove it to you?” she asked with a devious grin.

Broc saw her hand raise and instantly the blinding pain of the
drough
blood filled him again. He bellowed in fury as he fought against its power.

This time Deirdre let more of the poison take hold. His knees buckled as he squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together.

Nothing helped. The
drough
blood was slowing his body, halting his heart, and shriveling his insides.

“You will be mine,” Deirdre said near his ear. “And it all begins now.”

SIXTEEN

Sonya heard the enraged, pain-filled bellow and knew it was Broc. Her heart lurched in her chest, and her only thought was to reach him.

She realized the moment she moved past Dunmore that she’d made the costliest mistake of her life. She tried to duck when she saw him move toward her, but she wasn’t fast enough to escape as his meaty hand closed around her neck and squeezed.

Sonya clawed at his hands, desperate for air.

“Stupid bitch,” he ground out. “As if I would do anything against Deirdre. I’m no’ a traitor.”

He leered in her face, his features contorted with hate and malevolence. She barely registered that as her head was slammed into the rock wall and everything went black.

*   *   *

Dunmore watched the Druid’s body crumple in a heap at his feet. It had been too easy. She had kept him in front of her, her gaze never wavering.

But one growl from Broc and she had forgotten all about Dunmore.

It had been to his advantage. He had grabbed the opportunity and knocked the Druid unconscious. Now he would take her to Deirdre. He knew he would be well rewarded.

Never mind the fact that Deirdre had known he was injured and hadn’t helped him. She had needed to begin her torture of Broc. Dunmore understood Deirdre as no other could. It was why he had stayed loyal to her. Why he would always stay loyal to her.

He looked down at the redheaded Druid. She had wanted to see Broc. Dunmore smiled as he lifted the woman and tossed her over his shoulder. She would most certainly get to see Broc, but the outcome wouldn’t be what the Druid wanted or expected.

Screams of pain, of torture would once more fill Cairn Toul.

*   *   *

Poraxus, Broc’s god, raged and seethed inside him. His anger mixed with Broc’s, sending Broc on a downward spiral of fury and uncontrollable craze. He could feel the reach of Poraxus as he tried to take control, tried to pull Broc under for good.

It was inevitable. But not yet, not this day.

Broc yanked on the chains. The shackles cut into his wrists, the blood spilling between his skin and the metal. He didn’t pay it any heed. His gaze was locked on Deirdre’s, on the evil he must end.

He had the information he needed. There was no reason to stay in the mountain. He would leave, but first, he would kill her.

Deirdre’s eyes had grown huge when he began to jerk against his restraints. She did nothing but watch, expecting her magic to hold him.

It wouldn’t be the first time she had been wrong.

The more he struggled with the chains, the more the
drough
blood inside him burned. He felt its poison, knew his body was badly damaged and might never recover.

The
drough
blood kept his god from taking over, and Poraxus’ rage kept the
drough
blood from debilitating Broc. The hours he had suffered with the poison had allowed his god to shield itself.

Broc felt the chains give way, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted free. Now!

With his gaze locked with Deirdre’s, Broc began the chant that would release him from the bonds. The disbelief and confusion on Deirdre’s face was worth all the pain he had suffered.

The shackles sprang open with a loud click before falling with a clank to the stones.

Deirdre held up a hand face out toward him. “I can kill you instantly.”

Broc clenched his teeth and smiled. “Go ahead. Do it.”

He felt her magic gather around her, felt the eerie, sinister magic that was opposite Sonya’s noble and brilliant magic.

Broc focused his power on Deirdre. Just as when he hunted someone, he felt her heartbeat, felt the ferocity and a glimmer of panic churning inside her. It was how he knew when she was about to release her magic.

He dove to the side at the same time he called forth his god. His wings unfurled behind him the instant his fangs filled his mouth and his claws lengthened from his fingers.

Poraxus called for blood, demanded death. Deirdre’s.

Broc was all too happy to give it to him. He jumped to his feet as Deirdre’s white hair whipped out and wrapped around his neck. He grabbed it with one hand while he severed the strands with the other.

He tossed aside the remnants and ducked as her hair, fully regenerated, snaked out for him again. Broc managed to get away from the strands reaching for his neck, but he couldn’t move fast enough to stop them from slashing through his wings.

Broc roared and jumped toward Deirdre. A blast of her magic sent him tumbling head over heels backward to land with a bone-jarring thud against the rocks.

But Broc didn’t stay down. He was up and running back to her when the sound of someone—a mortal—approaching reached him.

“Mistress?”

Broc smiled when he heard Dunmore’s voice. He was going to make that bastard suffer, but first Broc was going to finish Deirdre.

He spread his wings and flew upward so that only a portion of her magic touched him, not enough to do more than sting his skin. Broc quickly dove toward Deirdre and punched her in the middle of her back.

She screamed and went flying forward, to sprawl on the ground. Broc landed and stepped on her arms so she couldn’t move. He reared back his hand, ready to sever her head with his claws.

Decapitating her hadn’t killed her the first time, but it would be a start.

“Mistress, I have a surprise. A Druid has come looking for Br…”

Dunmore’s voice trailed away as he caught sight of Broc standing over Deirdre.

All thoughts of killing vanished as Broc thought of Sonya. She had followed him, had ventured into Cairn Toul. For him.

His rage was replaced with urgency. He had to find Sonya before she was hurt. Or worse, before Deirdre got to her. Broc severed Deirdre’s head before he turned and flew toward Dunmore, who waited on the stairway.

Dunmore nervously crawled backward as Broc approached him. Broc landed before Dunmore and grabbed his throat. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“The wyrran took her.”

Dunmore, the great and mighty mortal who always did as Deirdre wished, now shook and clawed at the hand that held him.

“Did you harm her?”

Dunmore shook his head, his eyes wild. The lie was there for Broc to see, and it sent him over the edge.

“Doona fear, you witless fool. Deirdre will be joining you soon.” With that, Broc broke his neck with a twist of his hands.

He tossed Dunmore’s body down the stairs and flew to the entrance. Broc landed in the doorway and listened. He didn’t have long before Deirdre’s magic mended her. He had to find Sonya and get her away from the mountain before then.

Broc thought of the curse, of how it was getting ready to strike again. This time with Sonya.

He couldn’t let that happen. He
wouldn’t
let that happen. He’d find her and take her far from Cairn Toul. He’d take her to someone who could heal whatever injuries she had.