The MacGregor (20 page)

It was awesome. By the time she'd manoeuvred her way to the outskirts of the city she was really getting the hang of it. She decided to head straight out to Sean's. There was only half a tank of fuel and she had no money to buy any more. Stealing it was an option, but she didn't want to push her luck.

So she burned off down the freeway, carefully keeping to the speed limit. As soon as she peeled off onto the mountainous roads she relaxed. Confident now, Megan roared down the narrow lanes, enjoying the sensation of two wheels and a meaty engine.

At her first glimpse of the farmhouse she slowed, working down through the gears and enjoying the backfire she created.

She cruised up the driveway filled with happy anticipation. It felt like an age since she'd seen him.

The sight of the Mini parked outside his house made her pause. He must have visitors. She flipped the stand down and lifted off the helmet. She could hear voices coming from the back. Sean and what sounded like two women. She was not impressed.

But then she forgot her angst when Sean appeared at the front door. As his eyes alighted on her he smiled. His delight at her arrival was clearly demonstrated in his eagerness. Quickly he bounded down to the gate, leapt over and enveloped her in a bear hug.

Megan emerged minutes later, breathless and happy. She watched Sean's eyes take in the bike. His sunny expression went behind a cloud. He skewered her with his eyes. ‘Megan, where did you get that?'

‘Custom Classics.'

‘Did you steal it?'

Megan was affronted. He made it sound like she'd done something really bad. Honestly, the place was packed with motorbikes; they'd barely even notice it was gone. She sniffed. ‘Well, so what if I did?'

‘It's going back!'

Megan glared at him defiantly. Fat chance.

Sean was struggling to hold onto his outrage. Megan was so hot when she was mad. Her ears had gone all pointy and furry. And besides, the mutinous pout of her full lips suggested he may have started something he couldn't finish.

He opened his mouth but then shut it as he realised he'd lost his audience. Again.

Megan was staring down at the road. He couldn't see anything. ‘Come in, Megan. There's a couple of my friends here I'd like you to meet.'

She turned to him. Her whisky eyes narrowed. ‘You're a popular man.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Ginny Campbell's here, too.'

He looked around but could see no sign of her. ‘She was here earlier but she left.'

‘No. She's here.' She looked once more towards the black ribbon of bitumen. And then he heard it. A truck. Minutes later it droned up the hill, slowed and turned into the driveway.

‘That's Callum Campbell's truck. Wonder what he wants?' But a tremor of unease rippled down his spine.

With Megan at his side he went to the yard. All seemed well. But then the tack room door opened and Ginny sashayed out.

‘Come to do the roster, Sean?' she said.

Sean shook his head. ‘No.' He turned to watch the truck roll up and come to a shuddering stop beside the barn. Callum Campbell jumped out of the cab and went to the ramp. Ginny stalked past and helped him lower the heavy ramp to the ground.

Sean strode over. ‘Callum, can I help you?'

Callum turned and glared. ‘Yes, you can get The Count and load him up. I've got a new trainer lined up.'

Sean was pissed. To say the least. ‘Why? He's going like a dream!'

‘Drugs will have that effect.'

Sean thought his hearing was defective. ‘Drugs?'

Callum nodded. ‘Ginny here took a swab for me a few days ago. This horse is practically a walking pharmacopoeia.'

Sean laughed. It was ludicrous. He eyeballed Ginny. ‘Talk about a woman scorned!'

Ginny spat. A globule landed on his cheek and Sean wiped it off.

Megan let out a snarl of rage, and before Sean could say a word she was on Ginny. And all hell was let loose. Sean raced in towards the two struggling women but Callum Campbell slipped in, locked an arm around his neck and nearly decapitated him.

He struggled like a wild man but Callum was a scarily strong man.

Nearly passing out, Sean watched on in agony. The two women moved at such astonishing speed that Sean could barely make out who, if anyone, had the advantage.

And then Ginny Campbell flew through the air and hit the truck with a sickening thump. Sean looked to Megan, and despite his fear he couldn't subdue a small frisson of appreciation. She had transformed. Man, she was hot.

For an instant Callum's grip on his neck slackened. Sean snapped his head back and felt Callum's nose crunch. Callum hissed furiously, blood spraying in the air. Sean realised that he might be in trouble.

But he was wrong. It wasn't him in trouble, it was Megan. Ginny had peeled herself off the truck and was headed back to Megan. With Callum by her side. And Sean felt a sickening certainty that as formidable as Megan was, she was not a match for the two of them.

Megan did not seem to share his sentiments. Her teeth snapped together like a mantrap and she launched herself, feet first, at Ginny who went down like a skittle. And Megan was on her, muzzle buried in the white expanse of throat. Callum waded in, grabbed a swathe of her hair and pulled a long silver blade from his waist. It glimmered in the light.

And something inside Sean snapped. Red lightning flashed behind his eyes and lava bubbled in his brain. It flowed out on the tip of his tongue. An ancient spell almost forgotten. The air tingled like ozone and he watched in a detached manner as the two Campbells clutched their throats and gasped like fish out of water.

‘Sean! Stop! Stop!'

He blinked and the words vanished and he found himself looking into the frantic dark eyes of Lydia. Suddenly exhausted, he dropped to his knees and looked around. And his heart petrified. Megan MacGregor lay sprawled beside the two gasping Campbells. Her body utterly still.

Sean could not stand — so he crawled. His mouth opened to call her name but he was too spent. It took every ounce of his energy to move. One limb at a time. He felt as if he were crossing a vast, endless plain.

Finally he reached her. With a tremulous hand he touched her pale cheek. ‘Megan.' It was barely a whisper. He shook her shoulder.

Lydia crouched anxiously beside her. She put her fingers to Megan's neck. Sean waited in an agony of anxiety. One potato. Two potatoes. Three potatoes. Time ticked by in slow motion. Six potatoes. Seven potatoes.

Lydia let out a whistle of air. ‘She's alive. I feel her pulse.'

Sean did not even try to hold back the sob of relief. He curled over and pressed his ear to her chest. His own pulse pounded like a well-oiled piston. And then he heard it. Lub. Dub. And then an eternity. And then lub. Dub.

‘Do I have a heart then?'

Sean sat up so fast his head spun. Megan grinned. He could have wrung her neck. Instead he gathered her in his arms and cradled her to his chest. And he just held her tight. There were no words to describe his relief.

Finally she wriggled and he relaxed his hold. A little. He looked down into her impish face. ‘Megan, oh my God, I'm so sorry. I damn near killed you.'

She lifted her head a little to look at him and pursed her lips. ‘So you did.' She relaxed back again and smiled. ‘Wicked!'

It was not the response Sean had expected. If he'd been in her shoes he'd have been less than impressed. But then he chuckled and dropped a kiss on her nose. This was Megan MacGregor and a man had to expect the unexpected.

‘Lemme go.'

Reluctantly he relinquished his hold. She wiggled free and sat up. He watched her eyes swivel to the Campbells before she let out a long hiss. Sean, terrified she was going to carry on where she'd left off, took a grip of her wrist. ‘Don't!'

She looked truly outraged. ‘You mad? Look at them — they're practically gift wrapped!'

Sean had to hide his amusement. Megan's assessment of the two Campbells was pretty fitting. But he shook his head. ‘Leave them. It wouldn't be a fair fight.'

He could see Megan struggling with this concept. She blinked and looked at the sorry pair who were just starting to stir. Then looked back at him. ‘Of course it's not a fair fight. Did they fight fair?'

Sean had to admit she had him there. ‘No. They don't fight fair. But, if you let them go they will be beholden to you. In your debt. A matter of honour.'

Megan blew a loud raspberry. ‘What a load of bollocks. These are Campbells, they don't have any honour.'

Sean shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But if you finish them off now you'll never know, will you?'

She scowled. ‘If I don't finish them off they'll probably come back and finish me.'

Sean laughed. ‘You really think so?'

She grinned. ‘No. Not really. I am pretty fabulous.' She stood up and looked down at him. ‘Besides. Now I got you. You know, you are really starting to get interesting.'

Sean shook his head. Interesting was not how he'd put it. Movement caught his eye. He looked at the two Campbells who were on their feet with a less than friendly air about them.

Sean winced at the angry purple bruising about their necks. ‘Get out,' he said.

Callum Campbell looked at him and bared his teeth. ‘We have honour. I will not touch a hair on
your
head. Or the dirty lycan.'

Sean felt Megan stiffen beside him, but he put a warning hand on her arm and she settled.

The pair held his gaze for a few seconds and then eyeballed Megan, Lydia and Nancy by turn. Sean watched silently as they took The Count from his stable and loaded him on the truck. Minutes later they were gone.

Despite Callum's words, Sean was deeply uneasy. To him, their words had resonated with malice.

‘Cup of tea?' said Nancy cheerfully.

‘Whisky?' said Megan.

Sean opened his mouth to protest. But then thought better of it. She deserved a nip. They all did. He nodded and followed them back inside.

Megan poured a healthy splosh of whisky into her tea and sniffed it appreciatively. She wished she had a pipe but settled for a seat beside Sean. The two women sat opposite and Megan observed them curiously. Witches. Interesting.

Sean took a slug of tea and put down his mug. ‘Megan, this is Nancy and this is Lydia. Good friends of mine.'

Megan instinctively took to Nancy. While she was pretty in a granny kind of way, she was way too old to be of interest to Sean. Lydia, however, was undeniably attractive. Megan eyed her perfectly proportioned nose with irritation. ‘Hi,' she said.

They both smiled and said hello back.

Nancy turned her merry eyes on Sean. ‘That went well!'

Sean smiled ruefully. ‘You think?'

Nancy nodded her head. ‘Oh yes. We're all alive. An excellent outcome.'

Megan giggled.

Sean looked grim. ‘I nearly killed Megan. And them.'

Megan smiled at him. ‘It's so cool.'

Sean glared at her. ‘Cool! You kidding? I'm out of control. What if it happens again? What if next time I can't stop or there's no one around to intervene?'

Megan realised that he was deeply disturbed. ‘Sean, you didn't do it on purpose. No one blames you.'

Lydia lifted a black raven's wing of eyebrow. ‘The Campbells might.'

Megan dismissed the point. The Campbells didn't count.

Nancy, perhaps sensing a row, took the initiative. ‘Sean, I understand your concerns but you've forgotten something.'

He frowned. ‘I have? What?'

Nancy tapped the table.

Megan looked down and realised the witch was actually touching what looked like a map. She bent forward to get a closer look. Make that an old map. Its sepia corners curled and the place names were written in a beautiful copperplate. ‘What is it?'

‘It's an old map that I found in the archives at work,' said Lydia.

Sean looked at her. ‘Where do you work?'

Lydia looked at him and then at the map. ‘The library. This,' she said, pointing to the middle of the map, ‘is Dunadd.'

Dunadd. Megan knew it. She'd been there, of course, drawn by a natural curiosity to see for herself the place her grandad talked about with so much passion. It was an ancient place still touched by the Olde world. The Olde magic.

Megan looked at Sean and she realised that her grandfather was right. A mortal couldn't speak the old tongue. And for the first time in her life, Megan was forced to acknowledge that much of the folklore and mythology she had scoffed at was, in actual fact, real. A fact proven by the living, breathing man that she loved so much. Dammit. She hated it when Grandad was right.

She tuned back in to what Lydia was saying, even though most of it was only too familiar.

‘Dunadd,' said Lydia softly, ‘is the ancient home of the Gaels.' She looked around. ‘Has anyone been to Kil Martin?'

Sean shook his head but Nancy and Megan nodded. Lydia addressed Sean. ‘Dunadd was the fortress of Dal Riata, home of the Gaels. It is set upon a rock in the centre of the flat lands. And on it is a stone in which a footprint is carved.'

Sean took in a hiss of breath. ‘I wonder…I lie at the feet of a foot…'

Nancy smiled. ‘That's right, Sean. It must have something to do with Dunadd.'

‘It is the place that the Chieftains ruled from. A royal residence if you must. It is said that the site was part of a ceremony in which the Kings were married to the land.'

Megan felt a memory stir in her mind as Lydia told the story. A ripple of something like awe ran through her. ‘My grandfather says that Dunadd was home to our ancestors. He says that we, the werewolves and vampyres, can trace our bloodlines back to the Gaels, the Picts and the Irish kings. And that once we were one people who called themselves The Children Of The Mist.' She paused to assess how the others were taking her words. Reassured that everyone seemed interested, at the least, she continued. ‘And Grandad says that some of our ancestors were Gods.'