Chapter 21

 

 

Malcolm rested one ankle on his knee and rotated his whiskey tumbler between his fingers, watching firelight play on the amber liquid inside the glass. A mellow, relaxing sensation buzzed in his head from the alcohol.

The first glimmer of dawn showed beyond the window, and his eyelids stuck together when he blinked. He longed for his pillow where he could think things over and float away into the oblivion of dreams.

Boyd sat in the armchair nearby, sipping his own whiskey. “It’s all very curious, do ye no’ think so?”

“What is?” Malcolm didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to talk to anybody right now, and especially not Boyd.

“I still cannae figure out why the pirates dropped ye and the lassie off in Ness,” Boyd told him. “I cannae understand why they didnae throw ye overboard.”

Malcolm groaned and slapped his forehead. “Do we have to talk about all that again? How can anyone understand why the pirates do aught? They did it. That’s all I care about.”

“I cannae discount it so easily,” Boyd remarked. “And neither should ye. It’s dereliction of yer duty to ignore such a blatant example of misjudgment on their part. They must have had a reason. It’s yer job to figure out what it was.”

“Very well,” Malcolm muttered. “I’ll set to work figuring it out first thing in the morning. For right now, I only want to sleep. I would be doing just that if ye hadnae insisted on dragging me in here.”

“Ye wouldnae have been sleeping,” Boyd countered. “Ye’d be in Vic’s room, tending to her every need. Ye said so yerself.”

Malcolm refused to rise to the bait. He crammed down the part of him that might have blushed at the mention of Vic, tossed back the rest of his whiskey, and set the tumbler aside. “If that’s yer worry, I’ll go straight to bed.” He got to his feet.

Boyd jumped up at the same time. “A moment longer, laddie. I have a challenge for ye.”

Malcolm cocked his head. “What challenge?”

“That boy downstairs,” Boyd replied. “I’m giving him to ye. Show me how ye put an end to him to pay him back for the generations of wickedness his kind visits on the world. I’m sure ye’ll do a muckle fine job of that. Come along.”

“No’ tonight.” Malcolm turned away to hide his disgust. “I’m too tired. I’ll show ye a thing or two come daylight.”

“Now.” Boyd’s voice sliced through the air, leaving no doubt in Malcolm’s mind about what he meant. “Ye’ll do it now.”

Malcolm arched an eyebrow at the man.

A genteel smile danced on Boyd’s lips, but his eyes flashed in the firelight.

Malcolm chose his next words carefully. “I believe ye’ve taken that boy’s fate just a shade too seriously, lad. Ye’ve done enough to torment him for one night. Leave it ’til the morning.”

He turned for the door one more time, but Boyd grabbed him by the arm. “Ye’ll do it now, lad. I want to see ye put an end to him. I’ve been waiting a long time to see ye at work. I cannae rest until I see ye do it.”

Malcolm studied him. The direct, cold expression on Boyd’s face left him in little doubt. Boyd knew he was a traitor and an Angui mole. He was cornering him into this position to kill one of his own men so if Malcolm refused, he would have clear evidence of treachery.

Malcolm’s head spun, not so much on how to get out of killing Noah. Noah was as good as dead already. If he hadn’t bled to death from that stab would, Boyd would kill him anyway. Noah would never get out of the Guild House alive. That was certain. No, he only cared now about saving himself. He ought to slaughter Boyd here and now, but Boyd was the better swordsman, and the noise of their blades crossing in the Guild Master’s apartment would draw the whole house down on top of their heads.

He threw up his hands and turned away one last time. “Very well. If that’s the way ye want it, I’ll do it. It’s the only way ye’ll let me get some sleep.” He slid back the door and started down the corridor toward the basement stairs, but his mind wouldn’t keep still.

Noah would want Malcolm to kill him. He would prefer one of his own to take his life if he had to die, which he did. He would understand Malcolm had to do this to maintain his position inside the Falisa ranks and that there was no other way out of dying at Boyd’s hands one way or the other anyway.

How could he live with himself if he took another Angui’s life? How could he ever face Ned and the others with the news of what he’d done?

He gave himself up for lost as he marched down the basement stairs. He would die down here along with Noah rather than face that. Getting stabbed or tortured to death by Boyd appealed to him more than spending eternity with another Angui’s blood on his hands.

The two men arrived at the base of the stairs. Malcolm waited in the pregnant darkness while Boyd struck a match, raised the fragile flame to the lantern overhead, and the light spread through the icy chamber. He turned toward the hollow where they’d left Noah hanging from the bar.

Boyd stopped dead in his tracks and stared.

Malcolm gasped.

The ropes lay in tatters on the bloody floor. The hollow was empty.

Boyd rounded on Malcolm, baring his teeth. “Roust the lads. Comb the grounds. He cannae have gotten far. How in the name of Christ did he get away?”

Malcolm blinked at the hollow. All the resolve he’d mustered to face this moment disintegrated and crumbled through his fingers. He could hardly believe the evidence of his senses. “Someone must have freed him. Someone cut him down.”

“Who?” Boyd bellowed. “Who would dare come down here in the dead of night to steal him from us?”

“I did.”

Both men whipped around fast to find Vic standing at the foot of the stairs. The ghostly lamplight washed down her figure. She glowed out of the dark like some kind of apparition from beyond the grave.

Malcolm struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

She stood straight and firm before Boyd’s withering glare and returned his harsh expression with steady, unwavering resolve. “I stole him from you. I cut him down, and I just spent the last five hours standing on the hill south of town, watching his ship cross the channel. He just made landfall. You’ll never catch him if you search for all eternity. You lost him, and you can suck on it.” She spat out the words with hate-fueled venom.

Boyd stood rooted to the spot, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. All at once, he lunged at her and thundered in her face, “Ye foul witch! How dare ye defy me? Ye’ll pay for this.”

She stood her ground and narrowed her eyes back at him. “You thought you’d make me pay by watching you torture him. Now you find out it’s you who will pay. You crapped yourself doing that to me, and now I’ll never tell you anything you want to know ever again. You can forget about me helping you stop Ree and Ned from making that elixir. I’ll spend every scrap of strength I have defeating you. I’ll destroy you, and I’ll do everything I can to help them. You have no one to blame for this but yourself. You think you can be deliberately cruel to me and anybody else that falls into your hands, and I’ll just buckle and do your bidding? You’re gonna find out differently.”

He roared in her face again.

She blinked and shrank from the noise but didn’t retreat.

Boyd snatched her arm and spun her around. He shoved her up the stairs snarling and spitting, “Ye wretch! Do ye think ye can fly in the face of my wishes? I can make ye talk. I dinnae have to use torture to do it, either. Ye’ll talk, and ye’ll wish ye’d done it of yer own free will.”

Malcolm rallied himself out of his shock to follow them.

Boyd hauled her up the stairs and flung her into her room. “Ye want to be our enemy? Is that the way ye want to play? Very well. Ye can be our enemy, but ye’ll no’ leave here until ye tell me what I want to ken.” He pulled a bunch of keys out of his pocket and locked the door, then turned around panting to face Malcolm. “That should keep her from getting into any more mischief.”

Malcolm choked trying to breathe. “What do ye plan to do with her?”

“Och, she’ll talk.” Boyd tossed his keys up and caught them. “I’ll send for a wizard I ken. He’ll get the information out of her if anybody can.”

Malcolm’s skin crawled. “How do ye ken she kens aught she hasnae told ye already? Ye have the names of her friends in the future. What more do ye need?”

Boyd gave a sickening chuckle. “Ye dinnae concern yerself with her any longer. Ye get yer teams ready to go. I’ll pass ye the information when I get it.”

Malcolm didn’t move. He didn’t want to leave Vic alone with this psychopath, but Boyd had made up his mind.

Boyd studied him and waited. “Off ye go, laddie. Tell me when yer teams are ready to go. I’ll need ye to cast the spell to send them back.”

Malcolm frowned to himself. “Aye. Ye will.”

He couldn’t let them travel forward in time. That was certain. They could identify him. The instant they saw him in the future, they would know he was Angui. He had to stop them before that happened.