Dawns Everlastin' (former title: Dusk Before Dawn) Book 2 (29 page)

"Stay close to ma side," he
warned, in a tone sharper than he'd intended.

Opening the greenhouse door,
he ushered her ahead of him. She tried to open the great double
doors, but found them locked. Roan fumbled with a set of keys he'd
kept in his back trouser pocket, hurriedly unlocked the door and
none-too-gently pushed her into the hall.

He slammed the door shut
behind them. "Borgie!" he called, panic in his raw tone. "Borgie,
come down!"

He took the lead in the
semi-darkness, the staircase dimly lit by moonlight filtering
through a massive hole in the wall. Laura followed, her stomach
queasy and threatening to eject her supper. She was too afraid to
remain on the ground floor alone, and too afraid to let Roan
venture upstairs on his own.

On the second floor, he
waited for her to catch up then went into the doorless bedroom he'd
used until the night of the fire. A dark figure moved by the
window. The thin beam of a flash-light cut out.

"Borgie! If you know wha’s
good for you, you'll get ou', now! Lannie knows ye're
here!"

A sound of fumbling was
heard. A moment later, a match was lit across the room,
illuminating the white-haired man while he hastily lit the kerosene
lamp he'd been carrying.

"You bloody fool!" Roan
hissed, advancing across the room. "Have you a daith wish,
mon?"

Borgie held the lamp
shoulder-high. The glow cast off from it, lent sinister shadowing
to his angular features. "I've found some o' the jewels," he
grinned, patting his left coat pocket. "I knew they'd
survive!"

Roan felt suddenly
lightheaded. "How did you know I'd brought them to this
room?"

A brief look of panic masked
the man's face. Then he grinned, his countenance becoming
skeletal-like in the flickering lantern light. "I have ma ways,
cousin. A finder's fee is due me. I'll take a few o' the stones—the
rubies, I think. I love the color o' rubies. Dark red. Red as
blood."

Roan quaked with anger, his
fists balled at his sides. Stepping alongside him, Laura linked an
arm through his, in hopes it would be enough to sway him from
lunging at his cousin.

"They belong to
Lannie!"

Borgie spat to one side. "He
passed 'em down to you, you said."

"They belong to
him!"

"No! He did this—" He
gestured to his white hair. "—to me. He owes me, Roan! And I intend
to collect ma dues!"

"I'll give you yer dues, you
bastard!" came a guttural hiss. Thunder rolled across the ceiling,
vibrated through the flooring.

Laura clung tightly to Roan,
her horrified gaze riveted on Borgie, whose wild gaze pinged about
him.

"I'll handle this, Lannie!"
Roan barked, his gaze never wavering from his cousin. "Yer jewels
will remain. You have ma word!"

A freezing wind whipped
through the room, circled and circled until Lachlan appeared,
standing between the two men, his murderous look fixed on Borgie.
"I'll break yer neck wi' ma bare hands!" he threatened, shaking a
fist at the white-haired man. "I warned you to never come near ma
property again!"

Borgie cast his cousin an
imploring look.

Roan shivered in fear of the
ghost's rage. "Lannie, go and let me handle this. He'll never
return!"

Lachlan's lips drew back,
baring gleaming white teeth. "How did the fire start, Borgie, lad?"
he asked scathingly.

Roan met Laura's gaze for an
electric moment then regarded his cousin with deepening horror.
"Borgie, tell me it’s no' so." An excruciating second passed in
silence. "Borgie! Ma God, tell me it’s no' true!"

The white-haired man grew
sickly pale. "No' me, I swear!"

"Lyin' Ingliss swine,"
Lachlan growled.

The words were like a severe
blow to Roan. He stared at the ghost's profile, visibly wounded by
the words spoken against his bloodline. "I'm an Ingliss,
too."

Lachlan's flame-tinged eyes
swung to Roan for but a moment. "I warned him to stay
away."

"We share the same blood, he
and I!" Roan bellowed. "Ingliss and Aiken blood!"

A fierce breeze swept into
the room. The next instant, Beth appeared, standing across from
Lachlan and between Borgie and Roan and Laura. "Let it go,
Lachlan," she warned, her anger matching his own.

"No' when this—" Lachlan
flung out a hand in Borgie's direction. "—rodent o' the devil dares
to trespass in ma home!"

"This is Roan's house now,"
Beth reminded him, trembling, her shoulders tautly held
back.
"You
leave!"

Beth released a choked sound
when Lachlan's eyes became glowing red embers. She'd never known
him to be so out of control. The fury radiating from him, robbed
her of warmth, left such a void inside her, she expected to implode
into its core.

Oblivion.

If not for the innocent in
the room, she would have welcomed oblivion.

Gone was any remnant of the
man she loved. She was aware of suffocating evil, so powerful a
presence, she nearly abandoned her present existence to escape
it.

Lachlan's dark
side.

She'd known about it for
some time. She'd not only witnessed it unleashed, but had
unwittingly linked with it on several occasions. Rage had never
been a part of her makeup. Nothing near as dark and sinister as
what lay at the core of her mate's character. She'd sensed the
monster of his rage, seen it in her mind's eye more times than she
cared to count. It had nearly driven her away, nearly taken over
all that was good in Lachlan.

And it was free once again,
its host, Lachlan, not even aware of its deadly potential. It fed
off his past, hibernating in the sea of betrayal that had become
the energy force of his soul.

"Lachlan, I'm warning you!"
she cried, desperate to touch upon his compassion before it was too
late. "I won't stand by and watch you assault an unarmed
man!"

The red eyes cut to her
briefly. Beth gasped. His look robbed her of energy, plunging her
life force into a well of frigid hopelessness. She no longer
possessed the power to help herself, let alone the others. The
monster reigned over them both. Reigned over anyone unfortunate
enough to be within its range.

A silent scream spilled past
her lips.

An invisible hand slapped
against her front and pushed her into the hall.

Roan, dazed by her swift
retreat, was about to shout at Lachlan when he, too, was slammed by
something unseen and shoved out of the room. Laura cried out, her
hands outstretched to Roan. She cried out again when she felt
herself sliding across the floor toward the couple in the
hall.

Their legs paralyzed, the
threesome turned their heads in Borgie's direction. His face was
gaunt with terror, his eyes ludicrously large in his deathly pale
face. His hand trembled so, the lantern swayed beneath the handle
bridging his upturned palm. Shadows danced across the room, ominous
dark etchings mingled with silver-blue moonlight.

Beth felt herself slipping
from awareness. Summoning what little strength she had left, she
released a broken wail of anguish.

Absolute darkness and
soundlessness fell like a curtain around the threesome, entombing
them, coiling invisible restraints about their physical beings and
their wills.

Beth wept in silence,
uncaring that it was depleting what little energy was left
her.

Laura stood frozen in shock
and terror. She tried to counsel herself to worry about Borgie's
plight, but the darkness and silence had swallowed her completely.
She couldn't see or feel, touch or smell Roan. She couldn't sense
another presence. It was as if she were utterly alone. In the
darkness. In the silence.

Buried alive.

Unfinished
business.

Roan also believed he'd been
entombed alone. He pounded his fists against solid nothingness,
enraged with fear for Laura and Beth—and in the back of his mind,
for Borgie.

His cousin had brought about
the laird's wrath.

Damn Borgie's
greed!

Roan'd seen the look on
Beth's face. Never had he witnessed such torment, such devastation.
And Laura. He'd sensed her fear as if it'd been his own. Where was
she? Was she still terrified? It maddened him to think of her
needing him, and he couldn't reach her. He couldn't even see
her.

"Laaaaaannie!" he stormed,
driving his fists relentlessly against the darkness.

Panic overpowered Beth. She
became aware of an unfathomable something trying to merge with her
life force—to rob her of her existence.

"Lachlan!" she wailed,
pushing outward with what little power she could summon. "Lachlan,
stop!"

"Lannie!" Roan barked, his
fists hammering the air. "Release me! Let me ou'!"

The inky blackness winked,
then began to wane to shades of gray.

An unseen Lachlan's voice
rang out, "I'll see you dead, you blastie!"

A cry of sheer terror
pierced the air. Roan, Beth and Laura looked into the bedroom in
time to see Borgie lift into the air by invisible means, dangle a
moment, then fly through the paneless window.

"Oh ma God!" Roan wailed,
running to the orifice. He leaned over the sill. Below, in the
snow, Borgie's twisted body lay in a heap.

Disbelief rooted Beth. She
was only vaguely conscious of Roan and Laura running down the
staircase. An image of glowing red eyes burned in her mind. Her
phantom heart felt agonizingly branded by Lachlan's
betrayal.

She loved a man incapable of
controlling his rage. At least, she had loved him. At the moment,
she felt nothing but contempt for him. He'd betrayed her trust in
him, and her belief and her devotion to his gentler side. He'd
become that monster right in front of her eyes, and that monster
had lashed out at a man incapable of defending himself.

A low, gut-birthed groan
swelled into a cry of desolation, reverberating throughout the
house. Her quasi-life seemed utterly futile, without
purpose.

No. Not entirely without
purpose.

She couldn't pass on to the
next plane of existence and leave Lachlan loosed on an unsuspecting
world. She'd drag him with her. She'd end his vengeance against the
Inglisses once and for all.

Snow flurries swirled around
her when she next materialized. Her chest moved with pseudo
breaths. For a time, she stared down at Laura, who was knelt
alongside Roan at Borgie's side.

The house creaked in a
chilling lament, shattering what little serenity the night had left
to offer.

"His pulse is verra weak,"
Roan said breathlessly.

"We don't dare move him.
Roan, you have to find a phone and call for an
ambulance."

His stricken gaze peered
into Laura's eyes. "A phone...? Aye...aye, a phone." He stood, but
remained rooted, visibly confused.

"I left the keys in the
car." Unconsciously, Laura stroked Borgie's cheek. "Hurry,
Roan!"

Roan turned, and gave a
start when he saw the translucent form an arm's length away. The
haunted depths of Beth's eyes hit him in the gut, drawing him from
his stupor. "Stay wi' Laura, Beth."

She nodded, her gaze riveted
on the unconscious man. She was unaware of Laura staring at her, of
the questioning fear the green eyes betrayed.

"I think he's...going to
die," Laura said unsteadily.

Beth's gaze lifted to search
the other woman's face. She shook her head then shook it again more
adamantly. "He can't die. Not here. Not because of—" Her voice
caught on a sob. "Not because of
Lachlan."

Laura's fear of her presence
finally penetrated Beth's awareness. Going down on her knees and
sitting on her folded legs, she tearfully regarded the
blonde.

"Hatred is so evil, Laura,"
she said tightly. "Hate and rage. I don't possess the strength to
stand up against Lachlan's—"

"Need of vengeance," Laura
completed, with such detachment, Beth shivered.

"Laura, this has to
end."

"Unfinished
business."

Beth slowly nodded,
translucent tears spilling down her face. She further slipped into
the grayness, fading before Laura's dulled eyes. "Help us, Laura.
Help us before it's too late."

"What could I possibly
do?"

"Search your heart for the
answer."

When Beth was gone, Laura
murmured, "Too late." Her movements slow, mechanical, she opened
her shoulder purse, fished through the contents, and removed the
dagger.

The jewels glistened
overly-bright in the moonlight, winking up at her. With every
movement of her hand, the gleam reflecting off the blade rendered
slashes of light across her face.

"Too late," she whispered,
her face devoid of expression. "No heart. No search. No
answers.
Too...late."