Shades of Doon (25 page)
“I thought ye said no fightin’.”
“I didn’t say anything about me.” I lowered one of my arms and shook my stinging knuckles. “Ow, that hurt!”
“Try no’ to be a lone wolf next time.” He took my hand and lifted my bruised fingers to his lips. “You know I’ve got yer back, love.”
Then he wrapped me in his arms and I laid my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. And that’s when it hit me — trying to handle everything on my own wasn’t smart.
After being hurt by Eric, Janet, and my dad, I’d learned it was safer to stand alone. And thanks to them, I knew that I could. It was why I’d kept secrets from the people I should’ve trusted the most — about the cursed journal, the luckenbooth pendant, my illness — the list could go on and on. So many times I’d shouldered the responsibility instead of sharing the
weight. All because I believed that relying on others made me weak.
But there was a world of difference between the unhealthy dependence I’d witnessed between Janet and Bob, and a group of trusted friends working together to bring each other up. Pack leaders surrounded themselves with strong individuals, and relied on each of their talents —
that
was a position of strength.
As queen, I held the power to do it all on my own. But . . . I lifted my head and met Jamie’s radiant gaze — with the amazing people surrounding me, why would I ever choose to stand alone again?
I smiled into my future king’s eyes. “The modern world has been . . . educational, but I’m ready to go home. Back to Doon.”
S
tepping into Doon from modern-day Scotland reminded me of a recurring dream I used to have. I was playing Éponine in the Broadway revival of
Les Misérables
and crushing it. After my death scene, I stepped into the alley behind the theater to get some air. Suddenly I was no longer in New York. In that slow-motion way that dreams often go bad, ragged revolutionaries were racing past me in the cobbled street, shouting to one another in French. I turned just as the army rounded the corner and fired. Pain seared through me, and I crumpled to the ground — with no boy to comfort me and no fall of rain to wash me clean of the past. Then I woke up.
I always hated that dream.
With a brilliant flash of light, day turned to night as the modern world reformed into medieval stillness. Our little group walked to the end of the bridge as we struggled to acclimate to our new surroundings. The temperature, which had been in the fifties, dropped at least twenty degrees. The air stung my nose and throat as I breathed it in and then exhaled
in a visible cloud. Duncan pulled me into the sphere of his warmth as Jamie held up a hand in warning. Quietly, he said, “There are supposed to be men waiting here.”
Vee shivered, blinking to adjust to the darkness. “Is that snow on the ground?”
“Aye,” Jamie answered, kicking at a frozen patch of white with the tip of his brand-new Nike. The uneven ground, so recently scorched by the limbus, glistened with little clumps of snow. The lack of undergrowth caused the charred trees to stand out in stark, shadowy relief, creating the overall effect of a haunted wood. I had the impression that if I stepped off the bridge, I, too, would be leached of color.
Jamie set the half dozen bags he’d been carrying down just off to the side of the bridge. He removed his prized ball cap and placed it on Vee’s head. Next he slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “Stay with Mackenna and m’ brother whilst I go have a look about.”
With a severe nod, Duncan stepped away from me. Quietly shedding his own bags next to Jamie’s, he accepted the crossbow his brother thrust at him. For an instant, the princes’ eyes locked, and the fierce unspoken message they exchanged caused the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. Something was wrong. Both boys were on alert, bodies tensed and ready — but ready for what, exactly?
Rather than using the flashlight tucked in his belt, Jamie pulled out his recently purchased hunting knife and crept toward the skeletal tree line. Earlier, I’d poked fun at Surfer Dude’s rampant shopping spree at the hunting store, teasing that he’d gone commando — which made Vee blush. But now I took it all back. In a dangerous situation, I preferred the MacCraes armed to the teeth.
As Jamie disappeared into the night, Vee slipped her arm
through mine. We huddled behind Duncan, our senses straining for some indication of what was happening. After a few seconds, we heard a high-pitched whistle.
My heart began to race as I looked to Vee, whose wide eyes mirrored my own. As if sensing our fear, Duncan whispered over his shoulder, “Tha’s Jamie.” Another whistle answered in the night, causing Duncan to whip back around and ready his weapon.
“Who goes there?” Jamie’s voice echoed through the woods.
“’Tis Fergus.”
Like a two-headed girl with one brain from a sideshow attraction, Vee and I sighed in unison — until Duncan held up a hand cautioning us to remain quiet.
“What’s the password?” Jamie shouted.
“Horatio,” Fergus answered.
Duncan’s shoulders sagged in visible relief as he said, “It’s okay.”
Vee frowned, and I quietly explained, “It’s something they do on their training exercises. ‘Horatio’ means friend while ‘Laertes’ means traitor or foe.”
“From
Hamlet
,” she replied.
“I guess.” In truth, I’d never thought about why they’d used those specific passwords. I’d been too busy teasing Duncan about playing war games. However, standing at the mouth of the Brig o’ Doon in the middle of the night, I vowed to never joke about the MacCraes’ games ever again. Coming from Indiana by way of Arkansas, I had no concept of what it took to fight for your life or defend a nation against an enemy, but some terrible foreboding whispered that may not always be true.
A moment later, Jamie emerged from the blackness. “Fergus’s camp is o’er yonder, just a wee bit.” Taking Vee’s hand, he led her toward the spooky forest as Duncan and I followed.
No one spoke as we wound our way through the devastation. We emerged from the woods into a clearing — the same one where Sean MacNally and his men had held the princes while Vee and I faced the zombie fungus.
Fergus stood in front of a tidy campsite, the shelter shaped more like a teepee than a festival tent. Only the curl of smoke rising through the hole in the top announced its presence.
When we approached, the big Scotsman hugged each of us. Leaving Jamie for last, he said, “Took your time, didn’t ye?”
“Sorry, lad.” Jamie stepped back. “Where’re my men?”
“I sent them away.”
“Why?” Duncan asked.
“I wanted to speak to the four of you in confidence. Fiona’s discovered something.”
Vee stepped forward, her voice strained. “What is it?”
“I’ll let Fiona tell ye herself.” He lifted the flap of his tent, revealing a small fire in the center. Vee ducked inside with me close behind. Fiona flung herself at the both of us and we squeezed one another for nearly a minute. When we finally let go, I noticed the tent was indeed more like a teepee than anything else. The air was warm from the fire and smoke free. Thick woolen plaids littered the ground, creating a soft place to sit or sleep. It was actually kind of homey.
As Fiona turned toward the light, I forgot about the tent. She looked terrible. Bruise-like circles accentuated her sunken eyes. Her strawberry-blonde hair needed a good brushing. The firelight made her appear haggard and angular, nothing like the sassy and curvy girl we’d left.
“Fiona, what’s the matter?” I took her hand as her grave eyes darted between me and her queen.
“I was wrong about the nature o’ the spell that forced ye out o’ Doon. Sorely wrong. I thought it was a sending spell,
something Adelaide worked through Adam to remove ye from Doon.”
“It wasn’t?” Vee stepped closer.
“Nay. When I’d translated the last of it, I realized my mistake.” Her grave, green eyes begged us for forgiveness for the error. “It wasn’t a sending spell. ’Twas a
retrieving
spell.”
“What’s the difference?” Duncan asked.
“A retrieving spell is used by a witch to claim something that once belonged to them.”
“The locket that Queen Lynnette gave Addie?” I prompted. “The one Vee took?”
Fiona shook her head. “I’d considered that, but it doesna explain why you were also a target. I think she did it to reclaim her magic.”
“What are you talking about?” Jamie demanded.
Unruffled by the two princes frowning down at her, she continued. “In a retrieving spell, the body is physically separated from the essence being retrieved. The essence is pulled one way while the body is forced in the other.”
I thought back to the castle keep and the terrible ripping sensation that accompanied my spiral into blackness. Feeling nauseous all over again, I mumbled, “That’s exactly what it felt like.”
Vee nodded and placed a hand over her mouth like she was about to hurl. She swayed, and Jamie lunged for her arm to keep her from staggering too close to the fire.
“Let’s sit,” Jamie suggested, mostly, I suspected, for Vee’s benefit. He settled her on his lap while I sunk next to her with Duncan at my side.
When we were situated around the fire, Fiona continued to explain. “When Vee confronted Adelaide in Alloway and Kenna confronted the limbus, they both defeated essential por
tions of the witch’s power. But energy doesn’t just vanish . . . I think she purposely let Vee and Kenna win so she could make them her vessels — deposit some of her magic in each of them. If I’m right, she buried it deep enough that neither would even know they had it.”
“Why would she do that? It doesn’t make any sense.” I resented being anyone’s vessel, especially the unwitting dupe of a nasty old witch.
Fiona suddenly looked pained, the kind of expression I imagined someone would get when they had to break very bad news to another person. “It does if she wanted to shed all her magic.”
Vee chewed at her lip. “Why would she . . . No.”
“Aye,” Fiona affirmed. “So she could cross inta Doon.”
Turning pale as the Ghost of Christmas Past, Vee whispered, “So Addie’s trying to get back into Doon?”
With a heavy glance at Fergus, she said, “I’m afraid ’tis far worse, my queen. Adelaide could have only worked this spell if she was already in Doon.”
Horror contorted Vee’s features. “How?”
Jamie, doing his best to mask his own shock while comforting his fiancé, supplied, “Without her power, she might’ve crossed the Brig o’ Doon with the Destined.”
“Aye.” Fergus, who’d mostly remained silent as he sat behind his tiny wife, looked over our heads at Duncan and Jamie. “Tha’s precisely what Fiona thinks . . . that she used up the last bit of her magic ta conceal her true appearance.”
Duncan’s arm tightened around me, trying to protect me from the awful truth. “She could’ve crossed the Brig o’ Doon as anyone.”
But the Destined had crossed into Doon months ago, before our getting kicked out of Doon, even before the limbus. “I’m
confused. If Addie had no magic when she crossed over, then she shouldn’t have been able to cast the zombie fungus curse. Right?”
“Actually, she didn’t need her magic for that.” At my blank look, Fiona elaborated. “The power was already in the Pictish Stone, the curse written upon it — it was ancient magic. Adelaide must’ve set it up before she fled, before the Miracle, in anticipation of one day returning. All she would have to do when she crossed over was touch the stone with a bead of her blood.”
Vee began to twist the ends of her hair, a physical manifestation of her brain going into overdrive. “So I get how she triggered the limbus. And stashing her power in Kenna and me, while hard to believe, isn’t out of the realm of possibility. But how in the world did she manage to cast a retrieving spell?”
“I dinna know for certain, but I suspect that when Adelaide seduced Adam and he surrendered his will ta her, she would’ve regained a little power. But the retrieving spell is complex — it has to be done precisely. In order to cast it, she would have need of her spell book.”
“Which I stupidly found for her!” Vee pounded the ground with the palm of her hand.
Capturing her hand, Jamie lifted it to his lips. “Ye couldna know, love.”
“Vee’s right,” I said. “Because of us, Addie’s in Doon with her magic, and hiding in plain sight.”
Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I sagged against Duncan, whose fingers began to knead the side of my neck. “How many people know about this?” he asked.
“Just Fiona and me,” Fergus answered. “We thought it best, until we had a chance to consult with you.”
Vee caught Fergus’s gaze. “Where do the people think you are?”
“At the hunting lodge, having a bit of a honeymoon getaway.” Fergus took a stick and began to stoke the fire.
“Then who’s in charge?” Jamie’s normally smooth voice sounded strained.
“The queen’s advisors.” Fergus threw the stick into the flames.
Vee sprang to her feet. “They have no idea how much danger we’re in. We need to get back to the castle.”
“I’ve got a wagon over yonder.” Fergus nodded in the direction I guessed was the road. “I couldna bring more horses for fear of arousing suspicion.”
“Good thinking, man.” Jamie stood and took Vee’s hand.
Vee’s face appeared as hard as stone in the firelight, her transformation from modern teen into medieval queen happening in the space of our terrible conversation. “Before we head back, I think we need to agree to keep Fiona’s discovery between the six of us. Addie could be any one of the Destined and she could have others besides Adam under her influence. Since we can’t be sure, we have no idea whom we can trust.”
Jamie nodded. “Trust no one.”
“But the six of us.” Duncan completed his brother’s thought, and they exchanged a weighted look.
“Agreed.” Fiona stood and bowed her head to her queen.
Fergus and I echoed our agreement, but my mind already raced with the possibilities. Over twenty Destined had entered the kingdom during that last crazy Centennial. The night we
thought
we’d defeated the witch. Who knew how many were working for the other side or what they’d been up to right under our noses?
