Chapter Fifteen

Death stained the barren ground with blood and broken flesh. Steel sang against steel, a staccato accompaniment to the sturdier whump of arcing quarterstaffs. The brittle harvest wind whipped through the redhead’s hair as she charged at the altar with a murderous wail. Beth stood near the edge of the stone table, the lifeless child’s palm a fraction away from her pinkie. Steam rose from crimson rivulets that dripped onto her feet.

Ealasaid leapt onto the altar as Nyamah murmured an ancient phrase. Drandar drew back, his face a mask of pure rage. A horrific sound, incapable of coming from the throats of men roared over the clang of weapons and the muted grunts of expiring life.

Beth’s gaze locked on the sharp pick in Ealasaid’s hand. It flashed against the light of the full moon as she lifted it above her head. The words she spoke were guttural, unintelligible, and laden with fury that matched Drandar’s explosion. She slashed the weapon downward. Beth winced, anticipating the way it would sink into his chest.

To her amazement, Ealasaid’s hand connected with her forearm, tearing a deep gash in ivory flesh. Blood spurted forth, coursed down her elbow to stain the rough stone beneath her bare toes. When the first rich drop pooled on the smooth surface, the heavens flashed with blinding light.

Beth jolted upright in bed, panting. Sweat trickled down her temples, perspiration gathered between her breasts. Her hair was damp…and illogically, the same cool wet sticky feeling coated her toes.

She jerked her feet toward her lap and wiped at her toes. Not wet. Not sticky. Just…cold. Like the frigid air that filled her bedroom.

Rubbing at her arms, Beth pulled the robe she’d neglected to put back on around her shoulders. Dawn filled the room with pale light that helped to ease her shaking. But the terror remained. A curling finger of ice that inched through her veins, warning her not to shut her eyes again.

Beth blew out a hard breath that stirred tendrils of hair still clinging to her face.

Damn it. Fintan’s wild story had only made her nightmare worse. So much for sleeping on the troubles between them and being able to evaluate the situation more levelly when she woke. No doubt about it, she needed the safety of her tiny little apartment and its paper-thin walls to overcome the muck slogging around in her head.

It was time to go home. Past time. She should have left last night before he could confuse her more by making sweet love to her and then making a speedy exit when her questions pushed too far.

Besides, she was supposed to meet her mother for dinner tonight. Supposed to tell her what she discovered about the Whitley roots. She didn’t dare stand her mother up.

Sliding off the bed, Beth ignored the exhaustion in her limbs and slowly gathered up the rest of her belongings. She stuffed them carelessly in her bag, then pulled on a heavy green sweater and a tailored pair of jeans. Her expensive heeled boots slid comfortably on her feet—as long as she ignored the slight pinch of her right little toe.

As she rolled her suitcase toward the door, her gaze strayed to the picture she’d drawn in colored pencil. Her heart twinged, and she closed her eyes in sorrow. Best to leave it be, leave it behind. Where she wouldn’t have to confront everything that drawing represented. Besides, her closet was already full enough. She didn’t need to stuff more useless work in with all the others.

Another reason why she didn’t paint anymore—she’d run out of places to hide her work, and no one appreciated the stills of ancient times she poured her soul into creating. Dan hadn’t. Her mother neither. Emily praised the paintings, but that was Emily and what best friends did. Not to mention Emily liked anything historical.

Beth squared her shoulders away from the vibrant bonfire and turned the knob, letting herself into the hall. The castle was quiet and still. It offered no hint that Fintan might be awake. Doubtful that he was—the sun had yet to fully make an appearance. He was probably still sleeping off the consequence of desire.

She moved steadily down the hall, determined to ignore the increasing lack of space around her lungs. Her home was in an aging apartment complex on Broadway, not here. It couldn’t exist in Fintan’s reality.

****

Annoyed with every last damn aspect of his roots, Fintan stomped down the front stairwell, intending to sate his disquiet with food. He’d spent all night studying his mother’s various spell books, analyzing the scroll Beth brought overseas, and contemplating his curse. He’d warded himself a dozen times over, and still wasn’t certain he’d accomplished anything. Just as he began to feel like he’d quelled the dark desire to end Beth’s life, it taunted the back of his mind. Like a schoolboy taunting the girl he had a crush on, that darkness wouldn’t rest until Fintan acknowledged it. If he did…

He skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs. From the front door, grey light spilled into his entryway. A cold gust of winter’s breath rushed to swirl around his bare feet. He cocked his head, listening to an unfamiliar masculine voice.

“Edinburgh, Miss? We best hurry, this storm’s certain to ground all flights. Pass me that bag.”

“Thank you.”

Beth! Surely she wasn’t…

He jogged to the front door. Beth stood beside a black Hackney taxi, smiling nervously at the aging driver as he took her suitcase from her hands. “Beth?” Fintan called.

She whipped around, sending her long hair tumbling about her shoulders. Surprise laced across her face for the briefest moment, before a frown tugged at her brow. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

Ignoring the icy chill and the snowflakes that wet his face, he descended the steps, stopping one riser above where she stood. “You’re leaving now?”

Averting her gaze, she nodded.

His vile half roared in outrage, and Fintan squeezed his eyes shut tight to keep the indignation behind clamped teeth. He concentrated on his breathing, ignored the demand of his darker soul to drag Beth back inside and insure she would never leave again.

“I have to, Fintan,” Beth murmured quietly.

She did. She absolutely had to leave. He couldn’t fight the curse and deluded himself by thinking otherwise. Still, he ached to hold her close, to kiss those lines of apprehension off her face and reassure her with promises from his heart. To tell her in the many languages he knew, how deeply he loved her.

He reached out a hand to wrap his arms around her shivering shoulders. But as his fingers neared her elbow, the demonic portion of his being surged toward the surface. Now. Tempt her with promises. Spill her blood.

Fintan choked down an agonized cry. Swallowed to lodge the pain so deep it couldn’t penetrate his heart any longer. He needed to touch Beth. Ancestors above, he needed her to stay.

“When…” His throat closed around emotion, and he cleared his voice to try again. “When will you be back?”

“Miss, hate to interrupt you,” the driver called out the passenger’s window, “but the radio’s reporting dangerous roads. We need to go if we’re going.”

In that moment, Fintan could have given his dark soul freedom over the damnable driver. It would have pleasured him beyond reason to stuff the man’s tongue down his throat. That, or rip it out. Either way…

Beth shook her head and glanced over her shoulder at the waiting car. “I don’t know. I have to find me, before I can consider…everything else. I’m not sure there’s a place they all converge.”

Oh damnation. He could fix this if he could kiss her. If she’d just give him an hour to explain. A day to witness the proof. He shook his head, held her gaze as he silently begged her to understand. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her eyebrows lifted, and her mouth parted with a soft gasp. Then sorrow filled her jade green eyes, and she reached behind her for the open car door. “I think I know that.” Her gaze searched his, laden with questions. Then she shook them off with a slight shake of her head. “I have to go, Fintan.” She slid into the leather seat.

Fintan lunged for the door, grabbed it by the top of the frame. “Give me an hour, Beth.”

Beth gave the door a tug. “I have court tomorrow. I have to catch a plane.”

Helpless to stop the madness taking place around him, Fintan let the door slide from his grasp. It thumped shut, mirroring the hollowness that rooted into his gut. His vision blurred as the taxi crunched down his snow-covered drive.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shed tears. Nor could he remember such insatiable anger boiling in his blood. Drandar had taken the one thing Fintan cared about the most—Beth. So help him, he would turn this world upside down to make sure his sire paid for that vile act.

Even if it meant eternally snuffing out his own soul, Fintan wouldn’t rest until he’d found a way to overcome his curse and see his sire destroyed.

He stormed into the house, guided by the equally outraged darkness that fought for control over his carefully trained thoughts. He refused to yield to the unholy calling. Refused to surrender the two centuries he’d devoted to his mother’s plight and the power he inherited from her. Nothing would make him into the monster his sire desired.

Muriel dodged his stormy path to his study, and Fintan abruptly stopped. He pinned her with a scowl. “Patrick Cullen. Ireland. County Cavan. He died in 1917. Find his descendant. Do whatever it takes to get that man or woman here. Before the Imbolc ceremony tonight.”

She squinted in confusion, opened her mouth to speak.

Fintan cut her off before she could utter a syllable. “And get Dáire here as soon as the private jet can take off.”

One way or the other, he was going to survive this ritual tonight. Then, when he was mortal, he’d swim across the Atlantic if he had to and crawl on his hands and knees to Beth. If he had to beg for her forgiveness, he would. And somehow, someway¸ he’d make her understand the last thing on this earth he’d wanted to do was turn away from her last night. Not giving Muriel time to question his demands, he stalked to his study and slammed the door so fiercely the tapestry came crashing to the floor.

Now to figure out how he could overcome a sire and a sister equally determined to destroy him as well.