Chapter 25 #2
She, too, was mad, Shawna thought, feeling hysteria growing within her.
What if a miracle occurred, and she convinced her uncle he shouldn’t kill her?
She was in a cave in the earth, surrounded by his followers.
She didn’t know how long she had been here, and she was terrified that she couldn’t be helped.
The caverns in the cliffs were endless. David’s selkie’s lair had been one such as this.
These wretches had not stumbled upon David’s lair.
And he had not stumbled upon theirs.
“Of course, I’d wanted the child as well for this night in particular,” Lowell said.
Her heart quickened. “What child?”
“Now, Shawna, y’are no fool. Your child.
Laird Douglas’s bastard. A child is the best sacrifice to be had.
A child of five, precisely, but when you brought the boy to the castle, I knew I dared wait no longer to take him.
You should have all died. Eventually, I would have got to the others.
Gawain might have expired of old age. Alistair has always been reckless.
Alaric might have been a bit harder to kill.
Ah, Shawna! Why do you think I let you live after the fire?
To bear the child, so that I could nurture the boy to the right age, lass.
I let you live all the time after because I wanted you to die with your son, the last of David Douglas and Shawna MacGinnis, their offspring, all together.
The land should have been mine. All of it.
Douglases never cared for it right. And as for MacGinnis property, I was the youngest son, but the strongest. When you create a cult such as this one, you accrue yourself followers who will do any deed for you.
And eventually, you gain all that you want.
But as for tonight, well, it will not be all I wanted.
Douglas stole the boy from me. And as I said, an innocent maid is quite good, but you cost me young Sabrina as well.
Yet what you have cost me can be repaid with your blood, my dear.
I’d hoped to slay you at the stone—that would have been fitting.
But you are the MacGinnis. And you must be slain properly.
There was no time at the stone. But here…
well, here, the ceremony will be far more complete. ”
She realized that Lowell had been a part of her life, and a part of the lives of every member of her family. They had loved him. He was one of them. But he’d meant to kill them all and claim both MacGinnis and Douglas land for his own. “They will be looking for me right now!”
“Perhaps. They’ll never find you.”
“They will know that you are a murderer, Uncle Lowell. They will all be searching for me, and you will not be among them.”
“They will not notice that I am not running here and there with the others,” he said.
“You cannot keep this up and survive!” she claimed.
His old face crinkled deeply for a moment. “You do not know the power of Satan, child. But soon, ’tis his bride in blood you will be this night!”
He swung around, his cloak swirling with him. He lifted his hand, and suddenly, the chanting stopped.
Even those who had argued with him began to sway. Now, they all waited.
With breathless anticipation.
The markings of Satan had been painted on her naked flesh in blood.
She was ready.
Lowell drew a wicked handled blade high to ripple silver in the glow of a half dozen torches and the myriad candles.
“Laird of Darkness, accept this sacrifice!” Lowell suddenly cried out.
Chanting began again. And Lowell started to walk around the altar where she lay.
Her mouth went dry with terror.
He was going to kill her.
Any moment now, any second, he would slay her. He had no more interest in hearing anything else that she might have to say, and he had nothing more to say to her.
She was surrounded by faceless, cloaked figures, and she was going to die.
Just when she had discovered that she’d had a child. Seized and stolen from her by these wretched, bloodthirsty lunatics. A child they might well have taken tonight for his innocent blood. A child Lowell had kept alive just for the right time to kill…
She had a child. A beautiful boy.
And she had…
A husband.
Oh god, David. He could be arrogant and aggravating, he could infuriate her to the greatest passion…
Trying to keep her alive.
She couldn’t die. She couldn’t die. She couldn’t allow them to kill her!
And she would not do so.
She strained frantically against the ties that bound her, and she began to scream…
James McGregor had led a group of men into the mines. Hawk and Sloan had gone through the water to the lair David had discovered.
David chose the cliff tops himself, Alistair MacGinnis at his side, Edwina right behind him, while others followed closely in his wake.
“It’s got to be something of an accessible entrance!” David called. “They entered so quickly.”
“Sweet Jesus, I work at the wretched mines near every day of my life. The corridors, tunnels, crannies—are endless.”
“It doesn’t matter. We must find the entrance.”
“We’ll never find it!” Alistair claimed.
“We will find it! Be still!” Edwina commanded.
It couldn’t be! David determined, God, it couldn’t be! He knew where they had taken her, he was convinced he even knew who was involved in taking her—and he wasn’t going to be able to find her.
He crawled desperately over rock, hesitated.
“Shawna!” he shouted.
Hopelessness filled him, pain, agony. He fought it. He had to find her. He’d search and search and search until he found her.
And pray that he did not find her too late.
He saw a crack in the stone and hurried toward it. It was a crack, and nothing more. In fury and frustration, he stood tall upon the rock, shouting her name again. “Shawna! Shawna! Shawna, for the love of mercy…”
His cry ricocheted and echoed off the rock. It rose into the night like the howl of a wolf beneath the full moon.
And amazingly, it was answered. Answered by the shriek that came to him faintly…
From the rock directly beneath him.
“Here!” he shouted suddenly. “She’s right here! Goddamn, somewhere right here!”
“There, David, there’s a shelf, an overlay!”
Edwina was right. There was an entrance right by them. It was there, the opening, behind an overlay of sheer rock. His sword in his hand, he tore through the opening.
Shawna twisted, shrieked, screamed, writhed, managing to break one of the ties that bound her ankles.
The creatures fell around her. Desperately, she kicked and struggled. Grunts, groans, and swearing sounded as she made contact with a number of jaws.
Her feet were held down.
Hands fell upon her naked shoulders.
She looked up.
Lowell stood there. Chanting. Chanting…faster, faster…faster.
The cloaked figures were dancing. Kissing the genitalia of their Goat God.
Lowell’s voice rose to a terrible pitch. His arm jerked in an upward motion.
His dagger gleamed.
She shrieked and twisted wildly. The blade was falling.
Yet, just then, a body came dropping out of the darkness of the night, landing hard upon the cavern floor, then pitching atop hers, covering it, completely.
David. He lay atop her, guarding her flesh from the knife if it should fall.
With his own.
But he didn’t intend to die. He had swiftly come upon her reaching out. His hands gripped Lowell’s arm before it could descend to the stone with the blade.
The two men were locked in combat.
David went rolling from her, drawing Lowell down with him to fall on the other side of the altar.
Shawna screamed in panic once again. Another face appeared atop hers.
Alistair.
His eyes stared into hers.
Hers into his.
Alistair, another of her kin.
Oh god.
He had a knife.
She started to scream again.
“Hold still, Shawna, I’ve got to free you!”
She froze. He was working at her bonds.
“Still!” Alistair urged.
She held still. His blade slit the ropes that had held her. She was numb as he drew her body from the table, but he urged her to move, to hurry.
“Alistair—”
“Shawna, there’s a lot of people here, move!”
She did so. He urged her back against a wall, and she saw that David had risen from the floor. His arm was soaked in blood, whose, she did not know. He backed away from the cloaked figures, motioning her and Alistair to keep behind him.
“Rush him!” someone cried.
And two brave souls did so, but David drew his sword and swung, and both of the cloaked figures were taken down in the one movement.
“Bloody bastards, can no one do anything right?” one of the figures shouted. Casting off his cloak, he came forward.
It was Fergus Anderson.
With a roar, he went flying toward David, his knife raised.
David sidestepped him.
Shawna turned away as David’s sword plunged into the man’s back.
The mood within the cavern suddenly changed.
“Escape!” a voice whispered, and madness ensued, all of the figures trying to reach the narrow entryway.
Then suddenly backing into the cavern once again.
Hawk Douglas and Sloan Trelawny had come. A figure moved against Sloan.
“Sloan!” Hawk warned.
Sloan drew a pistol with terrifying speed. One bullet was fired. The figure dropped.
No one moved.
Then one of the figures started to weep.
It was Gena Anderson, Shawna realized.
“We’ll leave the rest of them to the law,” David said quietly. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said.
He wrapped his black velvet jacket around Shawna. She tried to walk and stumbled. He picked her up and carried her from the cavern. She closed her eyes as they walked. She never wanted to see the Goat God, or her fallen uncle, again.
They came out into the chill of night. Clinging to David, Shawna looked up to the sky.
The moon was full and shimmering.
Naturally. It was the Night of the Moon Maiden. But it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered.
She was in David’s arms. And she was his wife.
And the way that he was looking at her now…
She knew that he loved her.