Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
A va waited for the chieftains and senior patrollers to take their seats around the long oval table in the laird’s chamber before she uncovered the white board she’d asked Ben to make for her. On it he had drawn a surprisingly accurate overview map of Dun Talamh and the spell trap, which showed all of the magical features like the skyfalls and the forest illusion as well as dotted lines for the sections of the castle that had recently changed. He’d also assured her that the McKeran could read modern English, thanks to the laird asking outsiders who had come from the twentieth century to teach the clan and their vassals.
Alec, who stood by the hearth, watched everything she did with narrowed eyes. She already suspected the war master might try to belittle her or her ideas, but she knew how to deal with him. What worried her was that Tasgall had not yet shown up.
“The laird shall come soon,” Farlan said as he passed by her when he came in. “He bids you begin without him.”
What could be keeping him? she wondered. “Thanks.”
Before he sat down the seneschal went over to say something to Alec, who glared at him but didn’t move from his spot.
“Gentlemen, let’s get started,” Ava said as she turned toward the table. “We first need to search the spell trap from top to bottom.” She tapped the highest point on the map, and used Ben’s grease pencil to write “solar garden” in neat, small letters beside it. “Since this didn’t exist before I came, we’ll start here. I want a team to look through everything inside the walls and see if there’s any trace evidence that can tell us how they got here.”
Darro lifted his hand, and when she nodded to him asked, “What manner of evidence should we seek, Agent?”
“Footprints or tracks, fingerprints—I will teach you how to dust for those—and Fae crystals like the red ones studding the outside of the castle. Farlan said your father used crystals to store power. Maybe these recharge the curse that keeps you all here as well as creating these unexpected additions to the castle.” She thought for a moment. “Elspeth told me that some of your vassals were scared by an apparition that they described as a female dressed in black, so we should also look for black fibers from her clothes.”
“’Twill do no good to send a horde of searchers up there, Agent,” Farlan said as he studied the board. “The lads, they’ll trample more than they’ll find. ’Twould be best you and Alec do the hunting while the rest look about the passages and rooms near the solar.”
The war master didn’t look happy, but he reluctantly nodded. “I agree with Seneschal. Some great lumbering eejits need more space to fit themselves in a room as well.”
Several of the bigger chieftains glared at him.
The laird came in, pausing to give Ava a grim look before he said, “I’ve heard from the night watch captain, and we’ve a more pressing issue than the search now. All of the gardeners, they’ve gone missing. We’ve also lost half the sculleries and two kitchen maids.”
Ava frowned. “How can anyone go missing in this place?”
“I cannae tell you, but we must search for them now. Darro, assemble three teams to search the bailey and the outbuildings. Farlan, take charge of the household chambers on the first floor. Alec, you’ve the dungeons and cellars. Agent Travars and I shall inspect the tower rooms.” He looked around as if expecting to see someone else before he said, “All of you, stop by the armory to retrieve more weapons.”
“You think someone took these vassals, my lord?” Farlan asked.
“’Tis time for the events of the year to begin repeating,” Tasgall said. “’Tis possible the missing wished hide from the first foray. If you recall, ’twas an ugly day that resulted in three of our gardeners being skewered by the MacBren’s guardsmen. He claimed ’twas a misunderstanding.”
“Murdering three innocent people seems quite easy to understand.” Ava covered the board again before she asked, “When is he coming?”
“’Tis difficult to judge time here,” Darro reminded her.
Alec went over to Tasgall and muttered something to him.
“In another day,” the laird said. “Rory’s old anvil shattered from the cold last night. The same happened the day before the MacBren and his men first arrived.”
“When this man does come, will you allow me to speak with him?” Ava asked. “He’s never met me, so maybe I can persuade him to give up the idea of marrying his daughter to you.”
“The MacBren has a low opinion of females, Agent,” Alec said, but not unkindly. “More likely as not, he’d refuse to give you a hearing.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to try,” she chided before looking at Tasgall. “What do you think, Laird?”
He looked as if he wanted to lock her up somewhere with the other women, which made what he said all the more surprising. “I agree, as long as I stay by your side.”
E very year just before the arrival of the MacBren and his men, most of the clan’s male vassals and all of the females would hide themselves. Since too many had suffered grievous injury and fell as if dead, the prospect of repeating such ordeals became terrifying to them. Although Tasgall knew this, the disappearance of all the gardeners made him uneasy. They had said nothing of their plans to the clansmen or any of the household staff before vanishing, and many had wives and friends they would not wish to worry. Perhaps one or two of them had panicked when they’d heard about Rory’s anvil shattering, but he knew the head gardener, Eachann, to be an especially calm soul. He’d never run off in fear.
Where then, had the old gardener and his workers gone?
“Your men watching from the tower haven’t given the signal that the enemy is approaching,” Ava said as they finished searching the gardens and went to check the outbuildings. “Maybe someone said or did something to scare these people into hiding.”
He glanced at her. “Our vassals, they’ve lived through this year for many centuries. They ken what shall come, and how best to protect themselves. Naught new happens here. What, then, could frighten them so much?”
“Something new that they’ve never had happen to them in the past.” She stopped and nodded toward the granary. “Like that.”
Tasgall regarded the outside of the entry door, which flakes of red crystals had covered almost completely. “By the gods, what did such?”
“You’ve never seen the crystals cluster like this?” Ava asked as she climbed up the short steps to get closer.
“Never once.” As she lifted her hand to touch the glittering flakes he caught her arm. “They may harm you, my lady.”
“I caught one in the gardens the other night.” She told him about what she’d done before she added, “Nothing can kill me here anyway, isn’t that right?”
He knew that as well, and yet the thought of her suffering even the slightest harm made his gut clench. “Still, I beg you permit me.”
She sighed but nodded and stepped back to allow him to take her place. The moment he brushed his fingertips against the crystals they glowed briefly and then vanished. A moment later more crystals floated down and attached themselves to the empty spaces on the door.
“It’s like they’re trying to keep everyone out.” Ava peered at the frame. “There’s something white in between the door edge and the jamb.”
As Tasgall leaned in to have a closer look his lower chest touched her shoulders, and a wave of heat spread out inside him. From the way she stiffened he suspected she’d had a similar reaction.
“I must don armor before I come near you,” he murmured as he stepped back.
“It wouldn’t be enough.” Ava turned around, her face flushed a rosy red that made him want to kiss her. “Nothing would now, I expect.”
“Then what shall we do, my lady?” If he touched her now, they’d both lose control. “’Tis only growing stronger by the day. Soon… Soon I reckon…”
“I know.” She rubbed her eyes, and when she took her hand away her lashes had gone wet. “It’s going to be pretty near impossible to leave you now. How do you think it’ll be if we’re lovers? I think skinning myself would be a nicer thing to do.”
“Then you must distract me when we’re alone.” Tasgall’s gaze went to the scars latticing her knuckles. “Tell me about these marks.”
Ava looked for a moment as if she might run away from him. “You won’t like that story.”
“I imagine ’twas worse for you.” He released her hand instead of kissing the marks as he badly wished to. “Tell me.”
“My parents beat me a lot when I was little.” Her voice sounded so low and soft the words came to him like a whisper. “I really don’t even know why they had me. They sure as hell didn’t want a child. I must have been a mistake.”
His throat tightened. “Surely no’.”
“They found ways to make me useful.” Ava looked into his eyes, her own dark with sadness. “My mother made me do most of the housework and the cooking from the time I was six years old. If I didn’t do what she wanted, she would have my dad beat me.” She extended one of her hands. “That’s where those old scars came from. He liked using a metal spatula, because when he rapped me on the knuckles with it I’d bleed right quick. The blood would scare me worse than the hurting, and after that I’d do anything they wanted.”
In Tasgall’s time he had known men who had enjoyed beating the young and helpless; all of them had been cowards. But what man did such to his own daughter? “Forgive me, but I’m glad you cannae return to your world.”
“My dad died when I was eighteen. So did my mama.” Ava moved quickly away from him, as if she couldn’t bear him to be near her. “She was no charmer, either. Soon as I was old enough she got me a part-time job at a summer camp. I never stopped working after that, and she always took all the money I earned. When I asked if I could save some for school, Mama just laughed. Girls like me didn’t go to university, she said.”
“Didnae you tell your other kin how you suffered?” Tasgall asked, hiding his growing disgust.
“I had no other family, but it wasn’t all that bad. As long as I cleaned, cooked, and earned enough for them to drink with their friends when they wanted, my parents left me alone.” She gave him a forced smile. “In time I was able to leave home and go to college, but they still expected me to send them money. They’d call my dorm all hours of the night to holler at me. They didn’t care that I was an adult, or that I needed what I earned to pay for my own living expenses. All that mattered to them was their boozing.”
Tasgall went to her and took hold of her hands. “’Twasnae all they wished, aye?”
“I sent them what I could and lived on ramen noodles—poor kid’s food. Their drinking got worse without me there. One day they both went to work drunk and lost their jobs.” Her shoulders drooped. “My father told me to quit school and come back home to work and take care of them. He said that I owed them that for raising me.” Her voice dropped lower, and she swallowed several times as she told him about the fire that had killed her parents. “I was so well-trained to serve them that I nearly did go back. I knew the booze would do them in someday, but if I had gone home, it would have killed me, too.”
Looking into her shimmering dark green eyes made Tasgall pull her into his arms. Holding her against him made him want to do more. Why shouldn’t he take away the pain of the past that haunted her, and give her all the pleasure she could stand? In that moment he knew how it could be for them if they became lovers. Together they’d make a private heaven away from the clan, the spell trap, and all the troubles they shared. He had but to ask her to come with him now, and she would say yes. Tasgall could take her to his chamber so they might spend the whole night making love. He’d see to it that she never again slept alone.
Unless she finds the way out of the spell trap and returns to her own time.
“You’re very kind to listen to me gripe about my unhappy childhood.” She stepped back to break off the physical contact. “You should tell me about yours sometime.”
Before he could tell her that nothing mattered but this moment, the sound of the warning horn bellowed from the watch tower.
“The cycle, ’tis beginning again,” he said, looking up to the hard reminder of his responsibilities. He locked down his emotions and desires as he went to the door.
“Where do you meet this MacBren fellow?” Ava asked as they went back into the stronghold.
“I receive him first in the great hall.” He stopped into the kitchens to assure all the maids had been sent to the dungeons and ordered the younger male sculleries to go there as well.
Darro came to join them from the garrison hall with ten other clansmen, all the best fighters. He handed Tasgall his favored short sword before regarding Ava.
“Do you wish arm yourself, my lady?” When she showed him the fighting dagger she had on her belt he nodded his approval. “I’ve spoken to Alec and Farlan, and they found no trace of the gardeners. A few of the wall watchers also didnae report for duty this morn, and Rory found their quarters in the garrison hall empty.” They walked into the hall and went to the dais. “We shall deal with the MacBren first,” he assured his brother as they passed, “and then find our people.” The guards had removed the table and benches and brought his great chair. To Ava he said, “Stay on my left side, if you would. Darro’s place is at my right.”
She went to her position, drawing her dagger and slipping it into her sleeve before she folded her arms and watched the archways.
“Protect her before me,” he muttered to his brother, who uttered a short, humorless laugh. “Aye, I ken what ’tis your duty, only I’m your laird. Do as I say.”
“You’re a dolt,” Darro grumbled.
A few moments later the MacBren and his wife walked into the great hall, surrounded as always by his personal guards. Because in the twelfth century he had been the Scottish king’s second, he dressed in the grandest of polished chain mail from Britannia. His helm, gauntlets and torque had been fashioned from purest gold, and inlaid with his clan’s signature yellow-brown cairngorm gems. The MacBren and most of his kin possessed dark gold hair, thanks to the bloodline they shared with Norse raiders that had settled in the outer islands in centuries past. They’d also inherited the raiders’ pale skin, which the sun burned rather than tanned, so all of them looked as if they were drunkards or madmen.
His wife, who had come from an important tribe in the south, had worn a traveling gown of costly silver and black brocade. She added to her short stature by wearing a high headdress of handmade, crystal-beaded lace that elegantly covered her silver-streaked dark hair. Along with the glittering baubles she wore on her fingers, wrists, neck and ears, she had a haughty expression so severe it seemed to turn the very air around her frosty.
“McKeran, you disobedient pup. Didnae you receive my invitation to come to court?” MacBren made an impatient gesture. “Never tell me you did, for then I must skewer you for ignoring me and our king. Make your greeting to me and my lady, then."
One of the times that Tasgall had not bothered to properly greet the king’s second, his guards had shoved a sword through Darro, so he made a point to rise from his chair and bow.
“My clan and I, we’re honored to welcome you to Dun Talamh, Mormaer MacBren, Lady MacBren.” He held his bow as long as was proper before he straightened and gazed into the older man’s pale brown eyes. “How may the McKeran serve the crown?”
“The king didnae send me on his business, lad. I come on a matter of the heart.” The MacBren’s gaze shifted to Ava. “I see you’ve a pretty new bed wench. Why dress her as a man when she’s as ripe and toothsome as Theodora?”
His wife sniffed and regarded Ava as she might a diseased vole.
Tasgall ignored the taunt. “What then brings you to Dun Talamh, my lord and lady?”
“Go and see to the horses,” the older man told his rear guard, who abruptly walked out. He then removed his gloves and retrieved a small painted rectangle of vellum, which he held out. “You’ve never met my daughter, Torra. Look here and you’ll see she’s a true beauty, like her lady màthair .”
One of the guards behind Tasgall’s chair came to retrieve the miniature painting and brought it to him. In order not to offend the MacBren and his wife, he pretended to study the portrait of the young blonde woman.
“I agree, she’s all you claim,” Tasgall said, and gave the portrait back to the guard. “Does your daughter fare well?”
“Indeed, she does, lad, only she’s reached her maidenhood now. ’Tis time to match her with a man worthy of sharing my bloodline,” the MacBren said, so sternly he made it sound like a threat.
His wife stepped forward and stretched out her hands in a beseeching gesture. “My lord, our Torra took a fancy to you as soon as her sire spoke of your clan and holdings. Our lands, they’re but ten leagues apart, so when settling here she may visit her home whenever she wishes.”
“’Tis many worthy of her hand who may offer the same or better, my lady,” Tasgall told her.
“We desire no other, for we’ve chosen you.” The MacBren’s brows drew together. “The McKeran Clan’s proven their loyalty and honor time and again. You’ve no wife to attend to your household.” He waited for him to reply, and when he didn’t he said, “You cannae go on bedding pretty sluts like that one if you wish sons of your own.”
“I’m not bedding him, my lord, nor am I a slut,” Ava said suddenly. “I’m only a visitor, like you and your wife.”
Lady MacBren drew out a lace handkerchief and used it to cover her nose and mouth, unaware that Ava would not understand the subtle insult.
“So, you say, wench.” The MacBren looked her over as if really seeing her for the first time before turning his attention back to Tasgall. “I’ve spoken to the king on the match, which he greatly favors. I shall gather our families together and bring Torra to you by the next full moon, so you may kneel and offer her your heart. Indeed, you may wed her here that same night. Prepare well for such, lad. We’ll expect a grand feast.” He took his wife’s arm, turned away with her and walked toward the archway.
It always happened so quickly like this, and now he had to set the whole ugly chain of events into motion. “Wait a moment, my lord. I’m honored by your offer, and wish with all my heart I could accept, but I cannae wed your daughter. Forgive me, my lord, my lady.”
The MacBren halted but didn’t look back at him. “Think on what you say now carefully, Tasgall. You well ken how the match shall benefit you and your clan. You’ll become my son, and all your kin my own. The king and his court would gaze upon you with favorable eyes in all matters as well.”
His wife did a half-turn and gave him a strange, almost desperate look of pleading. “Torra’s lovely and gentle, my lord, and you’ll find no prettier or better wife anywhere in Scotland. Please reconsider and accept her."
“Forgive me, my lady, but again I say I cannae marry her.” He rose from his chair and stood in front of Ava as the mormaer turned around and flung a dirk at where he had been sitting only a moment past. “’Tis my right to take the wife I desire. I dinnae wish wed your Torra.”
“I am second to the king, you young eejit.” His face mottling with a dark reddish-purple color, the MacBren strode up toward him, only stopping when Darro stepped between them and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Whether you wish to or no’, I say you shall marry her on the night of the full moon.”
His wife rushed over to him. “We shall talk again with the McKeran soon. Come away, now, my dear.”
“I shall never wed your daughter, no matter what you do.” Saying the same words he did every year used to aggravate him, but he had learned if he didn’t, the MacBren would wait until he did. “Find a better man for your lass, my lord.”
As the older man reached for his sword Darro drew his. “You’ve no right, attacking our laird in our keepe, Mormaer. Go now or be dragged out.”
“Turo, please,” Lady MacBren begged, tugging on his arm.
“I shall return, lad, by the new moon. When next I come you shall accept my offer, or forever regret the day your màthair whelped you and your sniveling brother.” With that the MacBren turned and left, almost dragging his wife along with him.
Ava released a long, slow breath and brought out the dagger she’d been hiding behind her arm. “Is that all that happens?”
“This first time he comes, aye.” Darro sheathed his sword and looked over at Ava. “You did well, Agent Travars. I hadnae expected he should answer after you spoke.”
“What just happened is the first event of this year that keeps repeating in the trap?” she asked. When he nodded she looked at Tasgall. “I’m guessing his men killed your gardeners when they went out to see to their horses.”
“Aye. One grabbed a young lad and demanded grain and stabbed him when he instead fought to get free. Two more came to the lad’s aid and died while attempting to protect him.” He didn’t like thinking about the many vassals who had and would again suffer at the MacBren’s hands. “No one would punish the king’s second or his men for such, but vassals in our time were as animals to most nobility.”
“Now that they’ve spoken he may order his men to seize Agent Travars during the next cycle,” Darro said. “He shall recognize her when he returns. Indeed, he looked upon her as if she dared stand in his way. His lady wife also openly insulted her.”
“Maybe he thinks I am a problem. I’ve never been here until now. I got that handkerchief-to-the-nose thing she did, by the way. In my time girls just pinch their nose like you stink.” Ava walked over to the window slit and peered out. “Huh. They just disappeared as soon as they went through the outside gate.”
“Go and assure his men didnae harm any of our vassals,” he told his brother before going to join her. Standing behind her made him want to fold his arms around her, especially after the way the MacBren had spoken to her. “When ’tis time for the next event, you must seek sanctuary with our other lasses in the dungeons. We built a cell there behind a wall that the MacBren’s men cannae find.”
She turned around and looked up at him. “I’m not someone who hides when I’m threatened, sir. I fight.”
“Aye, and so I ken.” He let himself touch her cheek briefly. “Only those bastarts shallnae fight you. They’ll do worse.”
“I know. Miz Holm told me about that.” She looked for a moment as if she might step closer, but then she moved away. “When does the next event happen?”
Tasgall appreciated her efforts to keep them from becoming entangled, and yet resented them at the same time. “On the new moon, in seventeen days. Shall we go to the gardens? The missing may come out of hiding now and return to their work.”
“Okay.” She started to walk out, and then hesitated. Without looking back at him, she said, “I’m sorry I can’t be with you, Laird. Sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
That soothed him more than anything else she might tell him. “And me, my lady.”
R ory finished hammering out the plate of copper that Ben Miller had asked him to fashion for one of his inventions and dropped it in the quenching tank of water to cool and harden. Although the healer’s efforts greatly mystified most of the clan, he understood that the mortal had made peace with being unable to escape the spell trap only through creating his contraptions. As soon as the MacBren left, the laird would likely want to resume the search for the missing guards and vassals, which still troubled him, too. In all the cycles of the repeating year, no one had ever vanished without a word to anyone.
“Well, you look like you could use a long, hot bath,” a coy female voice said. “Do you need someone to scrub your back? I’d be happy to, Goliath.”
Rory glanced at the woman, whom he vaguely remembered as an outsider who had come some years ago, and now worked in the gardens. Patty? Molly? He could never recall their names. Hanging up his square head hammer, he went over to her.
“What wants Eachann?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. Everyone’s gone and hid cause of that guy and his men who always come here and make such a ruckus.” She moved closer, her lips pouting as she reached out to touch his arm. “Can’t I stay with you, baby? I know for sure you’ll keep me safe from those raping killers that come along with that old man. Plus maybe you and I can look for the treasure my ex-hubby wants.” Her lashes swept down over her eyes as she trailed her fingers up to his shoulder. “I’d do whatever you like, of course.”
In her eyes he saw slyness, not lust, and suspected she had not come to hide or have him protect her. Yet why would a woman gardener wish to seduce him? Unlike Farlan or Alec, he had no authority over anyone. That and his size frightened most of the females at Dun Talamh.
“What truly want you, wench?” he muttered.
“My name is Polly.” She sidled close enough for her chebs to brush his abdomen. “I’ve been so lonely since I came here. My ex was such a pig. All the other girls don’t like me because I’m prettier than them, and they think I’m going to steal their guys away from them. Can’t really blame them, either, cause I sure could if I wanted. Only there’s just one man I dream about every night. A great big bear of a man who’s always alone like me…”
Rory caught her wrist as she slid it down to his belly, and then shook his head.
“Oh, come on, big guy. I don’t kiss and tell, so no one will ever know we did the nasty.” She yanked her hand from his grip and reached for the laces of her bodice. “Look at these pretty titties.” She bared her breasts and shoved them against his chest. “Don’t you want to play with them?”
He was a man, not a stone wall, and the sight of her bare flesh stirred him. At the same time he experienced such a huge surge of shame that it made his half-erect cock go limp.
“Poor baby. You’ve never been with a girl, have you? That’s what everyone whispers.” She moved her breasts side to side, caressing him with them. “Come on, Goliath, don’t be shy.” She glanced at the chains on the floor near the workbench. “Maybe you’d like a little B and D. I’ve been with lots of guys, and I can show you how to do everything.”
Rory closed his eyes for a moment. He had used his hand for so long it no longer gave him pleasure, only release, and the temptation to give her what she wanted seemed irresistible. He then imagined the one woman he actually desired learning that he’d trifled with Polly, and how she would look upon him after that. He might never have a chance to love Inga, but he knew in his heart that no one else would ever do.
“I dinnae want you,” he told her flatly. “Go.”
Polly’s expression shifted from eager to scornful. “What are you, like Alec? You getting it on with that swish? Don’t they chop off your pecker if they catch you screwing another guy, or something like that? Hey.” As he took hold of her arm and marched her out into the passage she didn’t struggle. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you to jerk off by yourself. Stupid gorilla.”
In the shadows something slithered, catching Rory’s eye, and he shoved Polly behind him as a long, glistening ribbon of white shot out and clung to his chest. Where it touched him his flesh went dead, and despite using all his strength he couldn’t pull it away.
“Oh, well, guess you’re a dead man. I got to get looking for this treasure my ex wants anyway, so tah-tah.” Polly patted his shoulder, and then he heard the sound of her footsteps receding down the passage.
More of the sticky stuff came to wrap around his forearm and hand, and before he could turn and flee into the forge it wrapped around his legs. That was when a thing came out of the darkness. It resembled a giant light green segmented caterpillar and was spitting the sticky fibers from its gaping mouth.
It means to cocoon me, Rory thought as it began covering him with numbing strands, and despite using every ounce of his strength he couldn’t free himself. He opened his mouth to call for help, and then closed it again. He had no idea if this creature could kill him, or simply turn him to stone for the rest of eternity. Either way, the sacrifice of one life seemed better than all those who would lose theirs when his shout caused the stronghold to collapse. Better I die now than crush everyone in the keepe.
Would anyone miss him? Would Inga?
White strands covered his face, and as the creature blindfolded him he thought of the chatelaine, and how he had watched her from afar for seven decades. He didn’t regret keeping his distance, for he was too big and brutish for her. He only wished he’d been given the chance to tell her of his love for her.
Farewell, my beautiful lady. May we meet again in another life.
Through a crack in the strands Rory saw a butterfly with silver wings flutter around the caterpillar before lighting atop its head, as if it meant to watch him die.
A va walked the length of the gardens with the laird, but they soon discovered that none of the missing workers had returned. Darro also came to join them briefly to report that more interior guards had disappeared, along with an entire group of watchers that had been coming off night duty.
“Our vassals might run and hide from the MacBren, but no’ our brothers,” the chieftain said. “’Tis something serious amiss, my lord.”
“Our first task, ’tis to protect our vassals,” Tasgall said. “Send word for them to gather in the great hall and set four guards on each archway after you barricade them. Agent Travars and I shall check the granary and sheds before we join you.”
“As you command, Brother.” Darro regarded Ava as he drew a sheathed dirk from his belt and offered it to her. “I ken you’ve but one. Two blades, ’tis better.”
“Thank you, sir.” She fastened it to her belt and then shivered as he left them. When she realized why, she said to the laird, “We should do this another time. It’s starting to get very cold out here.”
“’Twill take but a few moments to glance inside.” As snow began to drift down around them he faced her and reached out to brush something from her head before pulling up the hood of her cloak. “The snowflakes look pretty against your hair, but they’ll melt as soon as we enter the keepe.”
She nodded, wishing he’d stop saying such things to her and yet happy that he had. She’d need something to remember him after she got back to the real world, something that would keep her warm on all the long, lonely nights she would be spending without him. As they walked over to the tool shed she considered asking him to come with her, but she could never take him away from his family. Someone in her time might discover Tasgall’s nonhuman blood as well, and he’d end up being studied like a lab rat at some government black ops site for the rest of forever.
“Dinnae fret, my lady,” the laird said, startling her. “’Tis enough that we found each other in this place. I shall hope for another life someday, one in which we might meet and love.”
Ava didn’t believe in reincarnation, or any sort of afterlife, but found it strangely comforting that he did. “I’m not so lucky, so I think one life is enough for me. See anyone in there?”
He peered in through the shed’s window before shaking his head. “My lady màthair came back to me and Darro many times as she aided us with finding our brothers and founding the clan. ’Tis common for druid kind to return to the mortal realm and live again.”
“I’m not druid kind, sir.” She glanced at him and saw his frown. “I never knew anything about my parents and their background, so I took a DNA test when I was in college. It said that my people mostly came from Wales and Italy, not Scotland.”
Tasgall smiled. “I didnae reckon you’re druid kind, Ava. I but wish you were.”
He’d started slurring his words a little, and his face had gone almost milk-white.
“I think we need to find you a nice big fireplace where you can warm up a bit.” She took hold of his arm and headed for the nearest door to the stronghold.
“I forgot that we’ve a blizzard coming in tonight.” He moved slower as they made it to the door and went inside.
Ava accompanied him to the great hall, which was now crowded with the clan’s vassals, and made him sit in front of the largest hearth. After tossing more wood in and asking a maid to bring some hot drinks, she grabbed some tartans that had been hung on wall hooks to wrap around him. Standing beside him, she watched the color slowly seep back into his skin. The urge to stroke his damp hair with her hand proved so tempting she finally moved to the other side of the fireplace.
“Does that happen to you so fast every time?” she asked him.
He smiled at the maid who had returned with two steaming mugs, and waited until she left before he said, “Aye, and naught may stop it but a good blaze, a pile of tartans, and…hot brew.”
Tasgall averted his gaze as he said that, and Ava knew why.
“My lord.” Looking somewhat frazzled, Farlan came over to them. “Two of the chamber maids I sent down to the dungeons, they didnae return with the others.” The sound of arguing made him eye two carpenters who were making angry gestures. “I must deal with their husbands before they take their axes to each other.”
“Keep the guards here. They’ll aid you with calming the vassals,” Tasgall said as he got to his feet. “Ava–”
“You’re not going anywhere alone, sir.” She smiled at the seneschal. “We’ll be back in a minute.”
Farlan nodded and hurried off.
“It’s pretty cold down there,” she told the laird as they went down the passage to the stairs leading to the dungeons. “I can have a look by myself, right quick.”
“You’re not going anywhere alone, ma’am,” the laird said in a passable Texan accent, making her laugh.
Halfway down the stairs the torches had been extinguished, and Tasgall took down one that was still lit before entering the darker area. That was where Ava found one woman’s boot sitting by itself on the step. She picked it up but saw no blood on it.
“I guess one of the women ran upstairs so fast she left this behind, like Cinderella.” As a faint, noxious odor reached her nose she put down the boot and drew her dagger. “Do you smell that?”
The laird breathed in and grimaced. “Aye, ’tis like flesh rot. Only naught dies in the spell trap.” He stepped in front of her.
Ava wanted to point out that she wasn’t squeamish about corpses, and she certainly didn’t need him to play body shield. Still, having his bulk between her and whatever was down there stinking up the dungeons did give her a sense of being safer.
The shadows seemed to grow darker as they reached the bottom of the stairs. All of the torches around the cells had been snuffed out as well, and the light from the torch Tasgall held only provided a limited amount of illumination. Ava saw fresh boot prints all over the dirt floor from the people who had hidden down here during the MacBren’s visit, but also some long, wide streak marks, as if someone had dragged a body away. She pointed them out to the laird and held a finger to her lips, and when he nodded she followed the marks, which lead her through a door that separated the long rows of prisoner cells from the outside.
They had only gone a few feet when the door suddenly slammed shut behind them, making Ava spin around at the same time Tasgall encircled her waist with his arm and pulled her back against him. A faint hissing sound came from the other side of the door, and when she tried to open it she heard the bolt bar drop on the other side.
“Hey,” she called out, and hammered on the door. “You better open this up, now, before I get mad. You don’t want to see me mad.”
No one replied, and soon the hissing faded away. Ava turned to look at Tasgall, who had released her and was moving along the rows of cells, a frown on his face.
“What’s the matter?” she asked as she joined him.
“Look.” He pointed inside one cell, which had a rounded mound in the center of the floor. He walked in and pulled back some of the straw covering the mound to reveal a long, hard cylinder of white that had the vague shape of a large man’s body. Beside it lay another, smaller mound, from which a triangle of embroidered fabric protruded.
“That’s one of the maids,” Ava said, recognizing the stitch work. “Her name is Una.” She bent down and gingerly touched the white material covering the body, which seemed as hard as plaster. Up at the top whoever had done this had made some air holes, through which the maid was breathing, judging by the white puffs in the air around them. She pressed her hand over where she thought the chest might be and detected the slow but regular thump of a heartbeat. “She’s not dead.”
A quick inspection of the other cells revealed more of the cocooned bodies, all of which were still alive. Then Ava discovered a large pile of a pale, decaying substance that reminded her of lard, from which came the terrible smell.
“Why is this rotting?” she asked the laird.
“Naught may die inside the trap,” he told her again as he inspected the substance. “’Tisnae a living creature. ’Tis the flesh from something unnatural. Skin, mayhap, shed as the thing grew larger.” He gestured toward one end, which sparkled with a sickly green color. “’Twas bespelled.”
“Whatever left this is what cocooned those people,” Ava guessed.
“Take the torch,” Tasgall said, and when she did he ran toward the door, hurling the full weight of his body against it.
“That’s not going to work, sir.” Seeing him do that upset her, and she caught his arm when he would have tried a second time. “Farlan told me you built the castle to withstand all manner of attacks.”
“The guards wouldnae barricade the door against us,” he said, and rubbed his face. “Even if they meant to protect me, ’twould serve no purpose now that the MacBren’s left. Rory himself…tested the…doors.”
His last words came out slower than his first, and the knot in Ava’s throat tightened. When she held up the torch she saw that his face had paled again. “Will Farlan send someone to look for us soon? Is there a hearth in here?”
“No hearth, and ’twill take time.” He eyed the torch in her hand. “Even with the straw, we cannae build a fire. ’Tis no venting.”
“Then we’ll have to figure out something else to keep you warm until someone comes looking for us.” As he began to sway, she tucked herself against his side. “Hold onto me, Tas. Just hold on.”