Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Callum snaps out his arm, shielding me. Every line of his body goes taut. His stance tells me everything: He’s here. He’ll guard me. With his life, if it comes to it.
I try to step forward, but his arm is immovable, keeping me behind the shelter of his body.
Callum shouts, “Declare yourselves.”
“Easy, pup.”
“Pup, is it? I’m not the one set loose like a Campbell dog.”
Another man steps forward. “Stand down. There’s nae much time.”
I recognize him from the stables. Callum does too, because he lowers his sword arm slightly. “Angus. I see friendship has made a fool of me.”
“Stop your havering, lad, before it’s words what prove you the fool.”
Callum looks from man to man. “Are you nae here representing the Campbell?”
“We’re here to help, not harm,” Angus says, and I believe him. They aren’t rushing toward us. Their swords aren’t drawn. “I’m here to warn you.” Catching my eye, he adds, “Both of you.”
I startle. “Warn me?”
Callum stiffens, pointing his sword at Angus. “Is that a threat?”
“Calm yourself. We’re not the threat, daft lad. Aye, Campbell sent us, but it’s for the lass’s sake.”
“Why? What’s happened?” I cross my arms, shivering from more than cold now. “How’d you even find us?”
Callum is bristling with suspicion. “The laird didnae send you to kill us?”
“If you’ll both stop your blathering for one minute, I’ll tell it. As for the how, it doesnae take a wise man to figure you’d head to water. And the likeliest spot to launch a boat to the isles is Loch Long.”
“Fine.” Callum gives a brisk nod. “I’m still waiting to hear the why.”
Angus shrugs. “The Campbell fears for your lass. First he raved about Janet’s child, then about Rose. The connection’s nae my business”—he taps his forehead with a nod to me—“but Donag wants blood spilled.”
“Donag?” Callum re-sheathes his sword. “She wouldnae hurt me.”
“True enough.” The man softens his voice as he looks back to me. “But she’d hurt you, lass. ’Tis your blood she wants.”
“I know. Aoife already told me.”
“Aye, but now the woman’s issued a curse. A MacGregor must die.”
“How can that be?” Callum asks through gritted teeth.
“She’s made a corp creadha.”
Callum goes rigid, and seeing his reaction sends panic surging through me. “A what?” My voice comes out shrill. “What is it? Callum?”
His voice is hoarse. “An evil thing. A clay body.”
Angus nods grimly. “And this one wears MacGregor plaid.”
Callum’s voice is a tight whisper. “As she destroys the doll—”
Angus finishes for him, “So she destroys the person. A MacGregor will die.”
“You’re in danger, love.” Callum checks his blade with an unsteady hand, and the steel rattles against the scabbard as he slides it home. “We must go.”
I’ve never seen him like this. Callum is always steady, always sure.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “Listen, we’ll get out of here. We can take a boat like you said.”
He whirls to face me. “You don’t understand. This curse. There’s no fighting it. No reversing it. Donag wants blood. And blood she’ll have. MacGregor blood.”
I think of Gregor MacGregor, the father I’ll never know. “You mean my blood.”
“Keep watch,” Angus murmurs to his companions, then steps close to Callum. “That’s not all, lad. The old Campbell is a sentimental cur and he might come to forgive your various trespasses. But Hamish?” He tsks. “The young Campbell is on the hunt, with you his quarry.”
“That brat is long overdue a taste of my sword,” Callum says, seething. Somehow the sword is back in his hand. “I’m no coward.”
“’Tis better a coward than a corpse. Think on the lass.” Angus tips his chin toward me. “You dinnae want her to see such like. The Campbell lad is coming, and soon. Have a care.”
“You bother me with Hamish?” Callum gets up in Angus’s face. “Rose is the one who matters. Donag’s curse can strike anytime, from any quarter. You think I spare a thought for my own hide when she’s the one marked for death?”
“Nae,” Angus says, sounding like he’s trying to soothe a wild horse. He calmly takes Callum’s wrist and guides his sword arm back down. “What I think is you’ll put up your blade and get your woman safe and away from here.”
Chest heaving like he’s just sprinted a race, Callum gives the man a sharp nod. “Aye.” An inscrutable expression settles over his features, cold and hard as stone. He takes a deep breath and nods again, more slowly. “Aye, you’ve the right of it. I ken what needs doing.”
“Run, lad. Head to the woods. He’ll have a hard time of it tracking you through the trees. There’s an old fishing bothy beyond the eastern shore. Hide there, and mayhap Hamish’s blood will cool enough to realize the poor sense in crossing his father.”
“I know the place.” Callum clasps his hand. “Whatever comes, you’ve my thanks.”
“So you’ve said. Now stop your eulogizing and get out of my sight.”
Callum snatches our things, grabs my hand, and we run.
Skirting along the shore of Loch Long, we go for what feels like hours.
We go until I’m nauseated and don’t think I can go a step more.
It’s long enough to track my regrets—a forgotten bundle of oatcakes, tucked uneaten beside the fire.
The hair ribbon left in the grass, untied by Callum’s careful fingers what feels like a lifetime ago.
After a while, my running falters. I’m stumbling, barely jogging, breath burning in my chest and thundering in my head.
“There.” Callum points to the trees that fringe the shore like a ruff of inky black. Holding tight to me, he plunges us into the woods.
I trip almost at once.
He lunges to catch me. “Come, Rosie-love. Just a little more now. For me.”
The woods are dense, the thick canopy of branches swallowing all the light. Invisible rocks and roots trip me.
We haven’t slept, not really. My body wants to shut down. Shock, exhaustion, fear, cold—it’s all been working against me until it feels like my brain has stopped communicating with my legs.
“I’ve got you.” Callum wraps his arm around my waist, bearing more of my weight, and rather than stumbling like we’re in a lame three-legged race, our strides fall into sync. “That’s the way,” he murmurs. “You’re a braw wee hellcat, remember? You can make it. You’re close now.”
“We’re close,” I correct him, but I can barely hear myself over my panting breath and the sound of our crashing footfalls. I repeat, “You mean we’re close.”
But either he doesn’t hear me or he’s ignoring me to focus on the trail. It winds perilously, and yet he manages to leap us over branches, navigating turns and switchbacks like he knows where we’re going.
The last time I was on a path this twisting—
Dread sweeps through me like a cold fog.
“What is this place?” I try to catch glimpses, but the trees whip by as we run. The deeper we get, the more claustrophobic the path becomes. “Where are we going?”
“To your home.”
Callum is too focused, too urgent, his grip firm but his touch strangely distant. He’s pulling me forward, but he won’t meet my eyes.
“Wait. What? You said we’re not ready yet. Until we can figure out a spell that works for both of us.” I try to slow down, but Callum is a freight train hurtling through the forest. “I thought we were going to hide out. We’ll get a boat, then we’ll figure it out together.”
I plant my feet in the dirt, forcing him to stop. Finally, finally, he turns toward me.
“Together, Callum. Right?”
Faint light shines through a break in the branches overhead, and it catches his face in snatches, highlighting a frowning eye, the ridge of a cheekbone, one tight corner of his mouth. His expression looks broken, like a puzzle that’s come apart.
“There’s no time,” he whispers. “This is the only way.”
“But the boat…and the island…” I keep waiting for this to make sense, for something to click. “We don’t have the right magic.”
“The strength of my will must be power enough.”
He leads us forward again, more slowly this time, and we grip each other tight. Him, pulling me forward. Me, tugging him back.
“Your will? What does that mean?” I’m waiting for him to explain how we’ll find a boat, live happily ever after.
He doesn’t answer.
He starts to chant.
“No. No, no, no.” My heartbeat stutters, like I’m bleeding out with every beat. “Callum, stop. Tell me what you’re saying.”
There’s a break in the woods, and Callum stops walking. Stops chanting. “The bothy.” He points to an abandoned cottage. “It’ll serve.”
It has a sagging roofline. Broken boards dangle from gaps in the walls. Moss rises from the forest floor, covering the bottom half like it’s about to swallow the place whole.
“I don’t understand. That place? Serve what? Who lives there? It looks empty.” I hate the manic pitch of my voice, but dread is choking me. I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
An ancient forest.
A winding path.
This old cottage.
I dig my fingers into his arm. If I hold on tightly enough, if I don’t let go, we’ll stay together.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says with ghastly calm. “It’s your way home.”
“Our way,” I insist. “You’re coming with me.” When he doesn’t reply, I press, “Is this about Hamish? He doesn’t scare me. We can fight him. You’re a million times stronger than he is.”
Callum looks down at me, and his expression is so terrifyingly flat, I almost look away.
“It’s true,” he says. “I could fight Hamish. But another threat to you would follow. And another. Until Donag’s blood price is paid.”
What’s happening hits me with sudden, savage clarity. “Did you know this whole time? That you’re sending me back tonight, alone?”
“No, I’d wanted—”
“The new moon,” I cry, peering up despite the branches hiding it from sight. My knees buckle. He catches me, and I want to shove him away and pull him closer simultaneously. His arms feel like the only thing keeping me from shattering. “Was this your plan? Was everything a lie?”
“Och, love, no. Never could I lie to you.”
He angles me in his arms, and I can’t help it—I meet his eyes. I’m desperate for the connection. For a lifetime of looking at him.