Chapter Thirteen

As twilight settled on the castle, Micah left the garden, Brigid’s collection of plants in hand. Sgàil na Faileas, Veil of Shadows. Though Cian had named it for the secrets it disguised, the castle’s name had never felt more appropriate. As Micah walked into the cool shade, the very walls cast a thick oppressive curtain around him. Inside, the warm lighting he had once taken comfort in, held a chill that seeped into his bones.

He made his way up the stairs to the rooms he shared with Brigid on legs that felt like lead. The plants he crushed in his hand itched like poison ivy. He wanted nothing more than to fling them to the ground and mash them beneath his toe. Render their properties useless. Make them as powerless as he felt.

But he couldn’t. He owed it to Brigid to remain strong. To be there for her, no matter the toll on his heart or the sudden cowardice that held him in a chokehold.

He entered their rooms to find the light on in her bedroom. The faint scent of something hearty from the kitchen lingered in the air. His gaze tracked the aroma to the kitchenette and an untouched platter of grilled salmon. Despite everything, a smile touched his mouth. In her darkest moment, she had still cooked for them.

The scent of patchouli wafted to his nose, and he turned from the food to find Brigid exiting her bedroom. She’d showered at some point during his excursion, and her hair flowed freely about her shoulders, glinting in the low glow of sunset like wildfire. The intricate tattoos on her forehead shone deep blue in the pale light.

She smiled, and Micah’s heart flipped over.

“Hey. I made us dinner. Are you hungry?”

With that simple question, Micah’s heart broke in two. He dropped the plants, crossed to her, and framed her pretty face between his palms. His mouth covered hers, nudging her lips apart. Her tongue slid against his, her hands fisted into the short hair on the crown of his head. A greedy murmur vibrated in the back of her throat, and Micah wound his arm around her waist to forbid her from ever leaving.

His heart poured free, emotion ran unfettered. He loved this woman more than he had ever cared about anything. And in her hungry kiss he tasted the love that seeped from her soul as well.

He couldn’t do it. No matter the danger he faced, he could not let Brigid die. If he did, he only postponed the fate her curse promised, for he would join her not long after. Maybe not by his own hand, but he’d leave an opening for the next demon he battled, a deliberate hole that would take him from the misery of a life without Brigid.

And that fate, the horrific end that came at a demon’s hands, he never wanted to experience.

Micah tore his mouth away as the pain of the inevitable became too much. He pressed his forehead to hers, closed his eyes against the anguish. “Go,” he whispered. “I can’t let you die when I can protect myself from you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t. I’m stronger than you, Micah.”

He didn’t care. Didn’t give a damn about her ability to overpower him. He’d risk that encounter when it arrived. Right now, he refused to say goodbye like this.

Forcing himself to let her go, he stepped back. With one murmur, he dropped all the wards that kept her chained inside. “Just go, damn it. I won’t be responsible for your death.” He strode to the door and jerked it open. “I’ll give you an hour before I tell Fintan. That should be enough.”

He watched the indecision pass across her face, the struggle between freedom and the fate that awaited her with the ritual.

“Go!” he insisted.

****

Everything that was malevolent inside Brigid’s soul rose up in a victorious swell at the sight of the open door. Escape! Freedom to run, to destroy, to kill and harm as she desired. No chains or conscience to reel her in.

Her father’s energy enveloped her in a welcoming embrace. Warm and comforting, despite the chill that shriveled the last of her mother’s light. The fight had been arduous, the day too long.

She didn’t want to die.

Brigid cast one last look of longing at Micah and sprinted for the door. She took the stairs in double time, passed through the hallway in a blur. One hand shot out to shove the back door open, and she paused to draw in a breath of the crisp midsummer’s eve air. Power infused her blood, strength centuries of existence gave her. Might that came with the vilest of purposes.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

“Micah?” Fintan called out.

A low snarl reverberated in Brigid’s throat, and she set her foot back inside the castle. Drandar couldn’t hurt her brother, but they had unfinished business between them. He needed to pay for locking her away, for dismissing her like some insignificant vermin.

“Let him be, Fintan. He knows what time the ritual is. He promised he would help.” Beth’s voice drifted closer to the door.

Brigid pulled herself back outside. Her brother would have to wait. But in the near future, she’d catch him when his wife wasn’t around to keep him safe.

As deep lavender engulfed the fields, Brigid raced for the forest. The grass cooled her bare feet, the wind whipped through her hair. All reminders of the land she came from, the ancestors who had walked before her. With each fall of her heel, she absorbed those ancient energies, reveling in the wildness of her spirit.

At the edge of the tall trees, she stopped, hidden in the darkness, to look back at the rooms that had imprisoned her for so long. A light glowed in the window, silhouetting Micah’s strong, athletic frame. Her heart tripped, and she closed her eyes to regret. He had shown her kindness when she least deserved it. Set her free knowing she would return for him.

If only things could be different…if she could somehow alter fate.

“I had wondered when you would come.”

Drandar’s voice brought Brigid’s thoughts to an immediate halt. She spun around as an invisible belt snapped around her lungs.

He stood in the shadows, unseen to all who didn’t share his blood. Long dark hair flowed around his shoulders. Silvery eyes glinted with the vile calling of his purpose.

“Father,” Brigid managed through her surprise.

“I had begun to fear you joined your siblings in their treachery. It is good to know I can depend on you and Taran. Come and embrace me, Brigid.”

Embrace him…Something deep inside her soul shriveled at the thought. But if she didn’t, if she denounced Drandar, he would turn on her. His strength doubled hers, even in his weakened condition. And while he couldn’t kill her, he could do far worse. Confine her to torture. Carve on her when he could find no other victim. Make her spend the rest of eternity locked in pain and blood.

She swallowed down fear and crossed to her sire. Shaky arms wrapped around his waist. With a deep breath, she laid her cheek against his cold chest.

“You are such a prize, daughter.” His hand stroked her hair. “If they could have all been like you and your brother, we would have ruled mankind.”

His praise made her want to shudder. Wisely, she locked her knees and squeezed her eyes shut against the reflex. If she yielded he would know. He would see through her and recognize the traitorous nature of her soul.

Drandar released her and took a step away. He cocked his head, studying her in the dwindling light. “You do not seem happy to see me.”

“Oh, I am,” she hurried to assure. “It’s just…I’ve been stuck in there…I’m…overwhelmed.”

A wicked smile spanned his face as he nodded. “Understandable. I will help you right this wrong, Brigid. Your brother, his wife, and that interfering demonologist will learn the folly of their actions.”

Micah? He intended to hurt Micah? Hatred worked its way through Brigid’s conflicted spirit. She dipped her head to prevent her sire from recognizing the telltale flash in her eyes. If Drandar had ever cared for her, he would understand the way his curse divided her. But he didn’t. He never had. She was just a tool, a means of adding to his might.

They were all a means of revenge for Nyamah’s defiance.

“You will help me,” Drandar continued. He looked to the castle, searched the high windows.

“Help you?” She frowned at the surprise that crept into her voice, cleared her throat, and asked, “How?”

“He cares for you, and he is in my way. Your brother has tasked him to guard the ritual against my presence. I need the power the flames will raise. Isolde dealt me a severe blow.”

A shame Isolde hadn’t eradicated him entirely. If she had, maybe the curse would have lifted on its own.

“Bring him to me, Brigid. I will feast on his soul as his body withers in my hands.”

Her stomach heaved at the image that surfaced of Micah trapped in Drandar’s deathly clutches. There would be no quick end for him, nothing but pain and suffering. For with each scream Drandar elicited, his darkness gained strength.

And if she refused…how much of her soul would aid her sire’s plight?

If she had a spine at all, she’d run away from this conversation and turn her back on her sire. But running from Drandar wouldn’t protect Micah. Only one thing would. And while she would pay the price eternally, Micah’s life was certainly worth the punishment she’d earn.

She forced herself to look Drandar in the eye. “I will bring him. Come to the fire when it illuminates the tops of the monoliths.”

“Ah.” His laughter rasped through the night. “I have taught you well. We are our strongest when the fires burn their brightest.”

With a shaky nod, Brigid agreed.

“I will see you soon, daughter.”

“Yes.” As he disappeared within the deeper shadows, she whispered, “Yes, you will.”