Shades of Doon (29 page)
Sofia’s dark curls bounced as she nodded. “Aye.”
Duncan leaned forward, his eyes skipping around the table. “I know Ana better than anyone here. She wouldna hurt a fly.”
That assessment took it a bit too far. My upper thigh still ached where she’d demonstrated a proper defensive kick that afternoon. But I also knew Duncan’s statement would only add fuel to Kenna’s distrust. I would’ve felt the same if Jamie were buddy-buddy with the beautiful British girl.
As I’d feared, Kenna leaned toward Duncan with narrowed eyes. Before she could open her mouth, I stated in a firm voice, “So noted. Fergus? What did you find out?”
Following a quick turn around the table where each of us recounted our conversations with our assigned Destined, I determined we were no closer to discovering the witch’s identity than we’d been the day before. The debate could last all night, but what I’d learned couldn’t wait.
“There’s something else.” Every gaze in the room locked on me. Afraid that if I looked at Jamie I’d burst into tears, I turned
to Kenna and searched her eyes for strength. She gave me an encouraging smile and took my hand under the table. I cleared my throat and began again. “I’ve had a vision.”
Fiona sucked in a breath. “When?”
“This evening after dinner, I touched my crown — the one that used to be Jamie’s mother’s — to remove it from my hair, and I fell into a waking dream.” Jamie’s large fingers encased my other hand, his unique energy flowing through my veins. I lifted my chin and met each set of eyes around the table as I spoke. “No longer in my tower, I was outside, gazing up at a huge statue of a woman . . . a queen. The monument was made of two different materials; one half shined like metal and the other half appeared softer, like clay. The ground shook, and the softer part of the statue crumbled. I lifted my arms as a large chunk fell toward me, and when I opened my eyes I was looking out over a desolate landscape from a great height.” I shook my head and raised my eyes to the ceiling, fighting the tears burning the backs of my eyes. My friend and my prince squeezed my hands tighter, and I continued. “I was inside the statue and watched as pieces of Doon’s cornfields, forests, the village . . . all of it began to break off and fly away, disintegrating into nothingness.”
“That doesna mean — ”
I cut Fiona off. “There’s more. I looked into the distance and saw all of Doon’s people running for their lives. They split like waves, one half heading toward the mountains while the other half was led across the Brig o’ Doon by someone . . .” I glanced at Jamie and then Duncan. “A soldier wearing the MacCrae tartan draped across his chest led a mass of people out of Doon. I couldn’t see his face. But even as half of myself was crumbling away, I knew what I saw was right — that in order to save us all, these people would have to leave the kingdom.”
I paused and let that sink in before I said, “Then I saw a
battle. Fighting, blood, and death everywhere. I blinked, and I was back on the ground staring up at the statue — it had changed. It was now completely made of steel, whole and strong, and it wore a gleaming golden crown. I couldn’t tell if the statue was male or female — it was as if it were both. I spun around and Doon was whole again.
“As I came back into consciousness, I heard a voice.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, focusing on reciting the exact words. “It said, ‘You will be pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. Trust. Use the armor I’ve given you. And a kingdom will rise up that will stand forever.’ ”
Silence hung in the air. The apocalypse barreling toward us could not be stopped by pulling the rubber mask off the witch and sending her away in a paddy wagon. A full-out war was coming. The unknown sacrifices that would be required of us already felt like a paralyzing weight.
“Then we must go on the offense.” Jamie’s voice resounded in the quiet.
“Nay, not yet.” Duncan shook his dark head. “We canna reveal our hand.”
“Ye heard what is coming.” Jamie leaned forward. “I will no’ sit idly by, waitin’ for the witch to strike first!”
Duncan stiffened, his voice raising. “What would ye suggest? Imprisoning
all
the Destined until someone escapes by magic?”
Jamie slapped his hands on the table, his eyes narrowing at his brother. “Something like that, yes.”
“We canna! It goes against every precept of Doon’s culture. Free will to choose — ”
“They will have no will at all if we donna protect them from the evil within their midst.”
“Are you truly suggesting we arrest the Destined to force Addie’s hand? Those people are innocent until proven guilty.”
“Extreme situations require extreme action. We need to force her out of hiding. Show her we aren’t defenseless pigs waitin’ for the slaughter!” Jamie’s entire body tensed, ready to spring.
I shot to my feet to break up the fight, but the floor moved, and I flopped back into my chair. “What the — ”
“ — Saints was that?” Jamie finished my question as the room shook and rivulets of dust rained down on us. Wide-eyed, we sat for several beats as the shaking grew stronger. A vase on the sideboard toppled over with a crash.
“Earthquake,” Mackenna gasped. “We need to duck and cover.”
A picture slid off the wall, clattering to the floor.
“Doon doesna have such things,” Duncan replied, reaching for her.
“It could now th — ” The candelabra toppled, cutting her off. Several of the candles winked out. Fergus and Sofia grabbed the ones that didn’t and extinguished them.
In the pitch black, Jamie stood, and pulled me up by our linked hands. “I think it’s comin’ from outside.”
Chairs screeched across the wood floor as everyone else lurched to their feet. Holding on to one another for balance, we staggered to the front of the house. I’d never been in an earthquake, but that’s what this felt like — like the ground would split open and swallow us whole. The rumble grew louder as we reached the front door. I skipped over an oil lamp rolling across the floor, lost my hold on Jamie’s hand, and stumbled outside into the snowy yard.
And stopped to stare in awe.
Hundreds of cattle thundered past on the narrow street, their eyes wild like they were being chased by a ravenous T-rex.
My heart banged in time with their clattering hooves, but the sight loosened something inside my chest, and I almost smiled. This was no natural — or even supernatural — disaster. Just a bunch of terrified cows.
I turned to see all my friends lined up across the lawn, varying levels of bewilderment on each of their faces. A giggle bubbled up inside me, and I squeezed Kenna’s arm, her gray eyes clear with amusement. In fact, I could see each one of my friend’s expressions in perfect clarity, lit with dancing light. Goosebumps chased across my skin as I searched for the source of the odd glow. I spun around to discover the cottage roof ablaze, crackling with
purple
fire.
I opened my mouth to scream a warning, but the air was sucked from my lungs, and everything slowed to the frame-by-frame motion of a dream . . . then
BOOM!
A flash of light blinded me as a blast of boiling heat slammed me off my feet and into the air.
V
iolet explosions blossomed beneath my eyelids as I struggled to free myself of whatever was binding me. It felt like a straitjacket, but blazing hot and pliable. Whatever it was, it had an iron grip. I thrashed about, trying to yell but making no sound.
If I could just raise my knee for some leverage . . .
I bent my left leg and a lightning bolt of pain shot through me, turning the blooms under my lids white. As the wave of agony receded, I realized that I must be dreaming. If I could just go back to sleep, the world would right itself again.
“Mackenna. Open your eyes, lass.” From miles away, Duncan’s voice infiltrated my sleepy haze. “I’ve got you.”
Another muffled voice — Vee’s — said, “Don’t let her go to sleep.”
Why would my boyfriend and my bestie be so cruel as to rouse me in the middle of the night? It wasn’t time to get up. Couldn’t they see that? I was about to jump over the moon. I opened my mouth and tried to tell them so, but the only thing that came out was a muffled, “Moooo.”
Something between a pat and a slap stung my right cheek and then my left. Then my right again, followed by the left, then right — I tried to bat the irritating sensation away but my hands were captured. Still far off, Duncan’s muffled voice commanded, “Open your eyes, woman.”
My lids battled opened in a series of blinks. Duncan’s dirty face loomed over me. He’d been so far away a moment ago. I wanted to ask how he’d gotten to me so quickly, but the instant I opened my mouth, warm air — sooty, with the faint flavor of toasted marshmallows — filled my nose. I gagged.
Duncan pressed a handkerchief to my face. His lips were moving, but with all the other sensations assaulting my senses, I couldn’t make out his words. I inhaled cautiously into the cloth. The scent of lavender flowed through me. As my body settled, I stared at Duncan. His lips — such lovely, kissable lips — moved again. I could barely make out their question. “Can ye sit up?”
I nodded once and slowly inhaled as he lifted me up. He crouched next to me, gently probing my face and neck with gentle fingertips and a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How do ye feel?”
“WHY ARE YOU WHISPERING?” I asked.
His mouth moved again and I thought he said, “I’m not.”
“SPEAK LOUDER!”
He lifted a hand toward my cheek and snapped his fingers. At least, I assumed that was what he was doing. The motion was right, but produced no sound. I never knew he couldn’t snap. Vee and I had once had a teacher, in third grade, who couldn’t snap. The entire class had been thoroughly entertained watching her try.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”
With a frown Duncan snapped in quick succession. “Can ye no’ hear that?”
“NO.” If I hadn’t been carefully watching him, I never would have figured out what he asked. The boy seriously needed to speak up.
A flash of light flared over his shoulder and drew my attention toward a bigger picture. Fire had nearly gutted Fiona’s mom’s cottage. I could feel the heat of it on my exposed skin. Lifting my arm, I marveled at the tattered fabric that had once been a sleeve. Continuing my examination, I noted that my skirt and shawl were also in shreds.
Duncan’s peasant costume was equally ragged, trousers shredded nearly to the knees, half of his tunic ripped open, and a long, thick shard of wood stuck out of his shoulder. When I pointed, Duncan shrugged off his impaled bicep as if it were a minor annoyance, like a mosquito. With his good arm, he reached across his body and yanked the wood. Blood spurted from the wound when it slid free.
As I watched the shard and the blood, the sounds of the night came whooshing in. I could hear the crackle of the fire, the frantic cries of my friends, and an awful ringing sound. Ripping off a ruined portion of my skirt, I pressed the fabric against his shoulder to staunch the blood flow. “You need to keep pressure on it.”
“’TIS JUS’ A FLESH WOUND,” he shouted.
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“Got your hearing back, did ye?” He waited for me to nod before continuing with an impish grin. “It’s just a wee nick. I’ve had worse than this during my war games. Tear off another length o’ skirt and I’ll bind it up.”
I did as he requested. While Duncan bound his wounds, I turned to look for my friends. Fergus, Fiona, and Sofia were getting to their feet. Other than Sofie cradling her arm, they seemed relatively okay. Vee and Jamie were already standing, the former picking debris out of the latter’s hair.
Once his shoulder binding was secure, Duncan stood and hoisted me to my feet. Other than the ringing in my head and a busted-up left knee, I appeared to be in good shape. Leaning on my big, strong boyfriend for support, we limped our way over to where the others were gathered, and I stupidly asked, “What happened?”
“Ye started mooing at the top of your lungs,” Fergus answered.
His wife backhanded his arm and supplied, “My mum’s cottage exploded.”
I stared at her as I digested that information, trying to fit it into my patchy last few minutes. “Are you okay?”
“Aye,” Fiona answered. “Rattled is all. I landed atop Fergus, which was like fallin’ into a cloud. But I busted his lip with my head.”
The giant chuckled, swiping at the trickle of blood still oozing from his mouth. “I always knew my wee wife was hardheaded. It’s one of her best qualities.”
I looked beyond Fergus to Sofia, who was gingerly holding her right arm in her left. “Bruised is all,” she replied to my unspoken question. “Nothing that canna be fixed with a little ice.”
Next to her Vee and Jamie had swapped roles like a pair of grooming monkeys. “We’re fine,” Vee said in an octave higher than usual. “It could have been a lot worse.”
Agreed. My knee was already starting to feel better but my recollection of falling on it was fuzzy. “Did something fall on me?”
“That would’ve been me.” Duncan supplied matter-offactly. “I tackled ye to the ground.”
“What do you mean tackled me?”
“Just as it sounds, woman. I threw ye to the ground and covered your body with my own.” He grimaced, in what I thought was remembrance but soon recognized as pain.
Circling behind him, I got a good look at his back. The shirt and coat he’d been wearing were riddled with large charred holes. The exposed skin was blistered and embedded with dozens of wooden splinters. Unable to stop myself, a small gasp escaped from my lips as my eyes filled with tears. “We need to get you to Doc Benoir.”
“It can wait,” Duncan grunted. “We’ve got more pressing matters to tend to.”
“Aye,” Jamie said, levelling his gaze on his younger brother. “Now will you concede that we need ta take action?”
Rather than argue, Duncan’s intense gaze shifted to Vee. “I defer to my queen.”
With a nod, Vee addressed the group. “I’m not waiting around for Adelaide to make another move that might get me or someone else killed. We have to go on the offensive.” A tiny rivulet of blood trickled from her previous temple injury down the side of her face. She wiped it away so that it streaked her cheekbone like war paint.
