Beyond the Highland Myst(779)
Mere inches from Lucan’s outstretched hands, the mirror crashed to the floor. One corner of the ornate golden frame struck marble with the sharp report of a gunshot.
The Dark Glass shattered into thousands of silvery, tinkling pieces.
To Jessi, it seemed as if the entire universe froze but for those glittering shards of silver cascading across the floor.
Her husband’s life lay in those pieces.
When the clock began chiming the midnight hour, her pent breath exploded from her lungs on a soft sob.
One. Two.
She raised her gaze from the floor, stared up at Cian. The Dark Glass was broken now, beyond repair. The tithe could never be paid again. She’d lost him.
Three. Four.
Dimly she was aware of Lucan, frozen, looking all-too-humanly bewildered, standing next to the twisted frame, in the midst of the shattered glass.
Five. Six.
She felt the same. Bewildered. Disbelieving. Devastated. She’d begun the day with so much hope, only to end it with none.
Dimly she was aware that the other MacKeltar had, at some point, joined Dageus behind the balustrade and everyone seemed rooted to the ground, transfixed by the scene before them.
Seven. Eight.
There was a silent request in her husband’s eyes. She knew what it was.
She’d promised not to watch him die. To remember him as her man, not a prisoner of Dark Magycks.
Nine.
It was a promise she’d always meant to keep. Just not this way. Dear God, just not this way. “I love you, Cian,” she cried.
Ten. Eleven.
Her promise kept was all she had left to give him.
Tears spilled down her cheeks when she squeezed her eyes shut.
Twelve.
* * *
28
It was Lucan’s laughter—after the twelfth chime—that made her eyes snap open again.
Jessi gaped blankly at the dark sorcerer who was still, mystifyingly, standing there.
Then up to the landing beyond. Her heart lodged in her throat.
Cian was still there, too!
How could that be? The glass was shattered—it was after midnight on Samhain—and the tithe hadn’t been paid.
They should both be dead!
They should be dust. Little piles of it. Why weren’t they? Not that she wanted them to be. At least not one of them.
“Oh, God,” Jessi breathed, “who cares? You’re still there! Oh, God, Cian!” Inhaling sharply, she broke into a sprint for the stairs, for her beloved, living, breathing husband!
“Jessica, love, watch out!” Cian roared.
Lucan had spun around and was heading straight for her, slipping and sliding over slivers of glass.
“Blethering hell, Cian, he’s mortal now,” Dageus roared. “Doona kill him. We need to know where the Dark Book is!”
But his warning came too late. For both of them.
As Lucan lunged for her, she slid the blade that Dageus had given her down her sleeve, into her palm.
She raised her hands to fend him off, and the blade slid into the front of Lucan’s chest at the same moment the tip of a jeweled dirk pierced through him from behind, driven straight through his heart by the force of Cian’s throw.
Then she was backpedaling away from the falling sorcerer and Cian was racing down the stairs toward her and taking her in his arms, turning her away from the gruesome sight.
She heard Dageus shouting down at Lucan, “Where’s the Dark Book, Trevayne? Blethering hell, tell us what you know of it!”
Lucan Trevayne whispered, “Fuck you, Keltar.”
And died.
“Oh, my God, you’re alive. I can’t believe you’re alive!” Jessi couldn’t seem to stop saying. Nor could she stop touching Cian, kissing him frantically, desperate to assure herself he was really there and wasn’t going to disappear, or turn to dust at any moment.
“Aye, love, I’m alive.” A string of curses spilled from his lips and he scowled down at her. “You tried to barter with the devil himself for me, you crazy woman. Bloody hell, doona you ever risk your life for mine. Ever! Do you hear me?” Burying his hands in her dark curls, he pulled her against him, slanted his mouth over hers, and kissed her hungrily.
“You would have done the same for me,” she said breathlessly when he let her breathe again. As a matter of fact, he’d said so much on the day of their wedding. Should death come anon, he’d said, ’twill be my life for yours. So what if he’d refused to let her say the same. She made identical promises in her heart. I am Given.
“Not the point,” he growled. “ ’Tis what a man does for his mate.”
His mate. Jessi stared up at him, a sudden, stunning realization dawning. “Oh! The wedding vows you said that day were the binding vows you told me about, weren’t they? You gave me the binding vows and wouldn’t let me give them back! Didn’t you?” She thumped him in the chest with her palm. “You tricked me!”