Chapter Forty-Five
Brigid
Cold. Hard. My head ’ s pounding like a jackhammer. I pry my eyes open, blinking in the dim light, trying to see. Where the fuck am I?
Stone beneath me. Flickering shadows dance across vaulted ceilings. The acrid scent of incense burns my nostrils.
“ Brigid?” A familiar voice cuts through the fog in my brain.
I struggle to focus, my vision swimming. A blurry figure looms over me. Short. White hair. Fiona.
“ What... where...” My tongue feels thick, uncooperative.
“ Shh,” Fiona whispers, her eyes darting around nervously. “ Try not to move.”
Memories come flooding back. The ritual chamber. Shit.
I force myself up on my elbows, ignoring the wave of nausea that hits me. The room spins as I take it in. Sconces lit with eerie green flames, shadows across stone walls covered in murals. Naked bodies writhe in ecstasy, limbs entwined in impossible positions.
“ How did I get here?”
Fiona ’ s face is grim. “ It doesn ’ t matter now. We need to—”
A low chant cuts her off, and the sound sends a wave of fear straight through me. Hooded figures come into focus.
I try to stand, but my limbs won ’ t cooperate. It ’ s like I ’ m moving through molasses.
“ Fiona, help me up,” I plead.
She hesitates, conflict flashing in her eyes.
The chanting swells, pressing in on me from all sides. Smoke and a strange incense curls through the air, thick and cloying. My head swims.
“ What ’ s happening to me?” I gasp, struggling against the invisible force pinning me down.
Fiona ’ s expression is unreadable. “ I ’ m sorry, Brigid. This is the best I can do.”
What the hell does that mean?
A crash echoes through the chamber, followed by shouts and the clash of metal on metal. My heart leaps into my throat.
“ Brigid!” Lochan ’ s voice rings out, desperate.
I crane my neck, catching glimpses of the chaos erupting at the far end of the room. Lochan ’ s tall form stands out, his movements a deadly dance as he carves through the guards. Rory ’ s snarls mix with the sounds of combat, primal and fierce. I renew my efforts to get up. “ I have to help them.”
Fiona ’ s hand presses against my shoulder. “ You can ’ t. The ritual ’ s already started.”
Rage flares hot in my chest. “ Like hell it has.”
I focus inward, reaching for that deep well of shadow magic. It pulses just out of reach, teasing me with its potential.
Another shout draws my attention. Tiernan ’ s there too, his usually calm face twists in fury as he unleashes a blast of druidic magic. Guards go flying, but as quickly as they do, they ’ re replaced by more.
“ They ’ re going to get themselves killed,” I whisper
The chanting intensifies, pressing down on me. My body feels heavy, unresponsive. Panic claws at my throat.
“ What did you do to me?” I demand, glaring at Fiona.
Her eyes widen. “ I-I didn ’ t—”
“ Brigid!” Callen ’ s voice breaks through. “ Hold on, we ’ re coming!”
I can see him now, fighting alongside the others. Blood streaks his face, but his eyes burn with determination. My chest aches at the sight.
“ Get me out of here,” I plead, desperation coloring my voice. “ Please, Fiona.”
She shakes her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. “ I can ’ t. I ’ m so sorry.”
The magic pulses around us, growing stronger with each passing second. I can feel it worming its way into my body, foreign and familiar all at once. Fiona ’ s hand darts out, quick as a viper. Her fingers dig into my jaw, forcing my mouth open. Before I can react, she ’ s pressing a vial to my lips.
“ Drink,” she hisses, her eyes locked on mine.
I try to jerk away, but my body won ’ t respond. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat, bitter and stinging. I choke, gasping for air.
“ What the hell?” I splutter, coughing.
Fiona ’ s already moving, her hands a blur as she tucks the vial away. Her face smooths over, all traces of guilt vanishing like they were never there.
“ Breathe, Brigid,” she says, her voice soothing. “ It ’ ll help, I promise.”
I want to scream, to lash out, but the potion ’ s already taking effect. My limbs feel heavy, my thoughts sluggish. The chaos around us fades to a dull roar.
“ You bitch,” I slur. “ What did you do to me?”
Fiona leans in close, her lips barely moving. “ Saved your life,” she whispers. “ I can ’ t stop the ritual. But I can stop her from erasing you completely. Now play along.”
Her, my mind repeats. The Morrigan.
The hooded figures close in, their chanting low and guttural. It ’ s like a physical force, pressing against my skin, slithering into my ears. I try to shut it out, but it seeps through every crack in my defenses.
“ Fuck off,” I growl, struggling against invisible bonds. “ Get out of my head!”
One of the figures steps forward, placing a gnarled hand on my forehead. Ice spreads from their touch, numbing my thoughts.
“ Embrace it, child,” they rasp. “ Let the power flow.”
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to scream. “ I don ’ t want your fucking power!”
But even as I say it, I feel something stirring deep inside. It ’ s dark and wild, hungry for release. Part of me wants to give in, to let it consume everything.
No. I can ’ t. I won ’ t.
I focus on my mates, on their faces. Lochan ’ s fierce protectiveness. Tiernan ’ s quiet strength. Callen ’ s wicked grin. Rory ’ s gentle touch.
“ They can ’ t save you,” another figure hisses. “ You belong to us now.”
“ Like hell I do,” I spit, channeling my fear into rage. “ I don ’ t belong to anyone.”
The magic surges, and I feel myself slipping. Desperate, I latch onto the mate bonds that I always feel now, like strings tied around my heart. I use them to anchor myself to my mates. Use them as an anchor against the rising tide of power.
Rough hands grab me, lifting me off the cold floor. My body feels like lead, unresponsive to my desperate attempts to fight back, my shadow magic made impotent. I ’ m carried through the chamber, my head lolling against someone ’ s chest. The flickering green light casts eerie shadows across the painted figures on the walls, making them seem almost alive as they caress and fuck.
My stomach flips as I ’ m lowered onto a raised stone altar in the center of the room. The chill of the surface seeps through my clothes, raising goosebumps on my skin. Hooded figures surround me, their faces hidden in shadow. Dread roils in my gut, choking me.
“ No,” I try to say, but it comes out as barely a whisper.
Rough hands grip my arms, raising them above my head. Others grasp my ankles, stretching me out across the stone. I ’ m spread-eagle, completely vulnerable.
“ No,” I croak, the word, hardly audible.
They ignore my feeble protest. Fingers fumble at the fastenings of my clothes. They strip me bare, rough fingers scraping against my skin as they remove every scrap of fabric.
I ’ ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Tears of frustration and fear burn behind my eyes.
The hooded figures drape a heavy green robe over my naked body. It ’ s soft against my skin, but I hate the way it clings to me, accentuating every curve. I feel like a sacrifice being prepared for the slaughter.
The chanting grows louder, more insistent. The air thickens, pressing down on me. Magic fizzes through the chamber, raising the hair on my arms. My shadow magic stirs in response, a faint flicker of power that dies as quickly as it appears. It ’ s getting harder to breathe, harder to think.
A scream of rage cuts through the chanting. I twist my head, catching a glimpse of Lochan as he charges towards me, his face a mask of fury. Behind him, I see flashes of the others, all fighting desperately to reach me.
“ Brigid!” Lochan roars, his voice raw with desperation. He ’ s so close, just a few feet away.
A guard slams into him, tackling him to the ground. I watch in horror as more guards pile on, pinning him down.
“ No!” I scream silently, as words will no longer come.