Shades of Doon (26 page)
We stepped out of the tent into the pre-dawn morning, hesitating slightly at the sight of snow flurries being flung about by the arctic wind. How foolish we’d been — crossing the Brig
o’ Doon loaded with modern-day souvenirs and presents like tourists coming home from Disneyland. The whole time Addie had been using us to execute her plot of revenge.
And to think I’d almost made it easier for her still . . . if I’d stayed in Chicago, kept Duncan with me.
No more. I would not serve the Witch of Doon — not even unintentionally. I was actively and deliberately choosing sides. Mackenna Reid was from this moment on Team Doon!
T
he next afternoon, I paced in front of a roaring fire, my full skirts whooshing with every step. As much as I wanted to wear one of my comfortable maxidresses, layers had become a must. The air inside the castle was too drafty for anything but wool.
An eerie howl echoed through the room as another icy gale pummeled the castle. Without central heat and modern insulation, the two-foot-thick stone walls were little protection against the falling temperatures. I shivered, drew my ermine-lined cape tighter around me, and stopped in front of the diamond panes of my office windows. From here, the fields looked like the sparkling backdrop of a Christmas card. But I knew better.
This was no short-lived summer blizzard set off by a girl’s naive attempts at heroism, but the bitter, ground-freezing cold of mid-winter. According to Jamie, the kingdom’s climate was temperate all year round. They may experience a bit of snow around the holidays, but nothing like this. If I’d held any
lingering doubt that Addie had found a way into Doon and regained her magic, I need look no further for confirmation than out my window.
As my advisors had repeatedly pointed out that morning, Doon’s enchantment was linked to the weather — a physical manifestation of its state of peace or unrest. My advisory cabinet, which Fiona and I privately referred to as “the three Wise Men,” were ancient and, in most cases, astute, but this time they lacked a key bit of information. And for now, I was inclined to let them draw their own conclusions.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of Fiona, who came in bearing sustenance. My dear friend set the tea service on the low table in front of the fire and then curtsied. “I brought ye some o’ yer favorite cakes.”
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver! I haven’t eaten all day.” I strode over to the table and popped an entire miniature cinnamon muffin in my mouth.
Normally, as my chief consultant, Fiona would’ve been part of my earlier meeting, but lying was not one of her gifts. I’d seen her try, and her face flamed, her hands shook, and sweat popped out on her forehead. Considering the Wise Men were already on alert, we couldn’t risk her revealing our secrets.
Fiona handed me a cup of steaming tea, and we both turned as Fergus barreled through the door. “Och! Is it truly necessary that
everyone
be searched and disarmed before seein’ ye?”
“Fergus!” Fiona hissed. “Show respect.”
“Er . . . sorry, Yer Majesty.” My giant friend bowed, his almost translucent skin flaming from his neck to his forehead.
“No worries, Fergus. But you know I can’t show preferential treatment to anyone. Especially now.”
“Aye, but need that git Eòran be so blasted thorough in his body search?” Fergus jammed the tail of his shirt back into
his waistband, took ahold of his wide belt, and did a wiggle to readjust his kilt.
I bit my lip against a laugh as Fiona glared at her husband and pointed to a seat by the fire.
His clothes finally in proper order, Fergus sank into the indicated chair and reached for a scone. “So how’d ye fare?”
“Aye, how did it go?” Jamie came in, followed by Kenna and Duncan.
“Lock the door,” I replied.
Duncan did as I asked. “That bad, eh?”
After we all settled around the coffee table, I perched on the edge of the sofa and related my morning meeting. “The Wise Men are beginning to speculate on the reasons for the weather change. Their current theory is it’s linked to whatever force pushed Kenna and me out of Doon.” I glanced at Fiona. “Which is partially true.”
She nodded, and I explained the rest. “I suggested to them that the force has been contained now that Adam is in custody, but I don’t think they’re buying it. They believe that if I don’t make a statement soon, the people will begin to draw their own conclusions, and their ideas could be far worse than the truth. We’d then be dealing with mass hysteria.”
“I doubt they could conceive of anythin’ worse than the witch masquerading as one of them.” Jamie shifted forward onto the edge of the sofa beside me and took my hand in his.
“Does that mean we should tell everyone?” Kenna asked. “Hope the truth will bring the witch out of hiding?”
Duncan, who was balanced on the arm of Kenna’s chair, said, “Then we lose the element of surprise.”
Fergus popped three cakes into his mouth and swallowed them in one gulp. “As far as we know, Addie doesna know we’re aware she’s here.”
“Do you think when she pushed us out of Doon she was trying to break the enchantment itself?” Kenna asked.
The fire crackled into the silence as we all contemplated that possibility.
“Nay.” Jamie shook his head. “In order to break the covenant protecting us, a Doonian would ha’ to leave willingly.”
I turned to him. “So if I took someone to the border and tried to force them back to the normal world, what would happen?”
“In theory, nothing.” The curl of Jamie’s lips told me his words were more than speculation. “The portals are the only way in or out.”
“Spill.” My gaze shifted to Duncan, who chuckled. “What did you guys do?”
“’Twas an accident.” Duncan smiled at his brother. “At least I think it was.”
“Aye.” Jamie smirked. “We were huntin’ in the northeastern corner and one of us shot a huge buck. The animal wasna mortally wounded and ran off.”
Duncan picked up the story. “We both claimed to ha’ fired the shot, and instead of goin’ after the deer to see whose arrow had pierced its skin we decided to fight about it.”
Jamie practically laughed the next words. “In the course of the brawl, I shoved Duncan and he fell back. We didna even realize we were at the border until he bounced back at me with a force that flattened me to the ground.”
When their laughter died down, Kenna voiced the question I’d been thinking. “What did it feel like, Duncan?”
“Like I’d fallen against a mattress made of springy clouds. It gave a little at first, then spit me back out.”
Jamie sobered a bit. “Scared us so badly, we sat there and stared at it for a good spell. Until we got the brilliant idea to throw rocks at it.”
Duncan leaned forward with a grin. “And one flew back and smashed Jamie in the mouth!”
Jamie touched his upper lip where he had the tiniest ghost of a scar, one that I’d never thought to ask him about. “Aye, then it wasna so fun anymore.”
Kissing the tip of my index finger, I pressed it to the little imperfection above his lip. “Your mouth seems to have recovered.” Standing, I moved to face the group with my back to the fire. “Any theories on which of the Destined is really Addie?” I turned to Fiona. “She could be male or female, correct?”
“Aye.” Fiona nodded. “She could even be a child.”
There had been a mother and daughter from Austria who’d crossed the bridge together during the most recent Centennial. “But that would blow the theory that she’d enthralled Adam through some form of infatuation.”
“There are all sorts o’ love,” Duncan interjected. “Didna Adam mention losin’ a wife and daughter in a car accident?”
A chill raced down my spine and my knees went weak at the thought of the adorable little girl with the enormous hazel eyes and blonde pigtails. If evil could hide in that pure, beautiful package, it would shake my faith to the core.
“Too obvious, I think.” Jamie caught and held my gaze, and I knew he was right.
“What about Emily?” My assistant had been a godsend, taking care of all the details that, as a new queen, I couldn’t possibly handle on my own. But as I’d told Fergus, I couldn’t afford to give anyone preferential treatment.
Fergus shook his great head. “Nay. She had a Calling with Drew Forrester.”
I exchanged a glance with Kenna, noting the green tinge of her skin. Drew had been the first victim of the zombie fungus,
and my BFF had killed him in order to save me. “He was a soulless monster, Ken.”
“Tha’s right. He died the day he fell into the limbus.” Duncan lifted her hand and tucked it under his arm, encasing her fingers in his other hand.
“Oliver and Adam have been quite chummy since crossin’ the bridge,” Fergus suggested.
“True.” I thought back. The scientists had bonded almost immediately, spending much of their free time together.
“I’ll bring Oliver in for questionin’,” Jamie volunteered.
“No,” I protested. “Remember, we need to act as normal as possible, so as not to give away our advantage. Invite him for an ale or something.” I tapped my chin. “You could ask him to build that electric generator for the castle that we were talking about on the flight back to Scotland.”
Jamie’s lips tilted and his eyes burned into mine at the reminder of our time spent on the private jet. “Of course, my queen.” Discussing modern technology had been a very small portion of our in-flight entertainment.
I broke eye contact and grabbed a notepad and quill off the table while clearing my throat. “Um . . . okay then. Let’s divide the Destined among us and do a little subtle digging. Write down anything suspicious, anything at all that seems off.”
After deciding who would talk to whom, everyone began to gather their things and make their way toward the door. But I stayed seated, double checking my list. I tapped the feather against my chin, knowing I’d forgotten something essential. It came to me in a flash, and I shot to my feet. “Wait.”
The group quieted and turned to face me. “I suggest we each seek the guidance of the Protector in helping us to discover the witch’s true identity.”
Everyone agreed, and when they’d filed out, I shut the door
and returned to my desk in order to finish up the paperwork that had piled up during my absence. Even with the witch out there, I needed to deal with these issues in order to keep up the appearance of normalcy. And, I needed a way to calm my racing mind. Fiona had divided my correspondence into two piles: “Urgent” and “Not as urgent.” Halfway through the five-alarm pile, I came across a letter from Gregory Forrester — the man who’d lost his arm trying to pull his brother Drew out of the limbus.
Your Royal Highness, Queen Veronica,
I wish to request an audience at your earliest convenience. Finally having mustered up the emotional and mental strength to go through my brother’s things, I came across something that could be of interest to you. Due to its delicate nature, I do not wish to discuss the details in writing. Please send for me anytime, day or night, and I will respond with the upmost expediency.
Your loyal subject,
Gregory Forrester
My relationship with Gregory had gotten off to a rocky start. The first time we met, the flesh was melting off of his arm and he accused me of causing the curse that killed his brother. But after Kenna and I defeated the limbus, I’d paid Gregory a visit. Explaining what his brother had become, and what had ultimately happened to him, proved one of the hardest conversations of my life.
Gregory had surprised me by thanking me for destroying the abomination that had taken control of his brother’s body. He’d even dropped to a knee and pledged to me right there in his living room. Humbling, to say the least.
An icy finger of air found its way down the nape of my neck as the wind rattled the windows behind me, the bare branches of a nearby tree tapping and scratching the glass like wintery nails. Resisting the urge to look over my shoulder, I pulled my cape tighter and read the letter once more for clues as to why Fiona would’ve placed it in the urgent pile.
Deciding to set it aside to ask her later, I stood and walked over to the bookcase. Something had been niggling at the back of my mind since I’d realized retrieving the spell book from the witch’s cottage had played right into Addie’s hands. I pulled down a book on Scottish symbols and flipped to the luckenbooth. I traced the sketch of the intertwined hearts topped by a crown in the upper left corner of the page. In Celtic mythology, some symbols were incorruptible, while others held a greater capacity for conducting malevolence. I had a hard time believing something so beautiful could carry a curse. I’d always believed Lynette’s pendant was a gift given out of love.
Scanning the page, I found one legend that claimed the luckenbooth had originally been designed as a token of love and devotion, and had been given by Mary Queen of Scots to Lord Darnley. Another story maintained that it was an engagement brooch given to her by the Dauphin of France, who later became her husband.
Interesting, but unhelpful. I skimmed down the page.
See also Double Witch’s Heart on page 419.
I turned to the corresponding page, and my gut clenched; the drawing of entwined hearts was almost identical to the luckenbooth. I began to read, walking back to my desk. A red glow drew my attention, causing me to stop and stare at the ring on my right hand. And that’s when the world exploded.
The windows shattered, blasting glass shards across the room. Arctic wind tore at my hair and clothes. With a terrible
groan, a dark shape blocked out the sun, falling toward me. I dropped to the ground, my cape blowing over my head. Blindly, I scrabbled away from a great wrenching sound that vibrated in my chest, as if the very fabric of the earth were being torn apart. An avalanche of cracks and crunches, like hundreds of bones snapping, resounded behind me, prompting me to crawl faster.
When I reached the far side of my office, I collapsed behind a chair, just as a massive crash shook the room. Afraid to move, I gripped the leather arm of my merger shield, praying we weren’t under attack.
