Midnight's Captive(7)

“Then how?” Phelan asked and threw up his arms in frustration.

“Another Seer, perhaps?”

It was a shot in the dark, especially since the Seer they had at MacLeod Castle, Saffron, was the first in ages.

Phelan shook his head. “Nay. He knew us. Knew things only someone who had spent time with us would know.”

“There’s no way. We were with the other Warriors and Druids after Declan was killed. We went through every book in that mansion and destroyed it. There is no possible way for him to know anything.”

“Yet he does. He no’ only knows us, but he knows black magic. In order for him to become drough, there has to be a ceremony. Someone had to know the ceremony. Which means we missed something.”

The music coming from his office changed to a relaxed, sensuous beat as Whitesnake began belting out “Slow an’ Easy.”

“I know Gwynn already did a background check on Jason through the computer.” Charon rubbed his chin. “But I think I’m going to do my own digging into Jason Wallace’s past. Maybe we’ll find something.”

For the first time that evening there was a ghost of a grin on Phelan’s face. “Just what I wanted to hear. Shall I return tomorrow?”

“Give me a couple of days. Where are you going?”

“No’ far. I’ll be around,” he said and vanished into the trees.

Whereas Charon had set up a home in Ferness, Phelan was forever wandering. Everything he owned was in a small bag on the back of his Ducati motorcycle.

Charon rubbed his hand over his chest. The wound might be gone, but he couldn’t stop remembering the feel of the blade inside him or the drough blood methodically shutting down his organs.

He hadn’t spoken of it to Sonya after she healed him. Mainly because he hadn’t been the only one injured, but more importantly, because no one else had said they continued to feel the poisonous blood once Sonya had worked her healing magic.

Charon hoped it was only because he’d had the drough blood inside him for so long, and not because there was something different about him.

He started up the stairs leading to the deck outside his office. Just as he reached the top step, he spotted the shirt.

Hesitantly, he put his hand on the plain black tee. Without a doubt, he knew it had been Laura who put it there. Had she seen him? Was that how she knew his shirt was ruined?

Charon picked up the shirt and turned to where a carafe sat on the table. Steam still drifted through the space in the lid. He bent to retrieve it, and found his gaze locked on Laura.

Her eyes were closed as she swayed enticingly to the music. He had wanted her from the first moment she walked into the pub and asked him for a pint of ale.

He figured with her English accent she was just a tourist passing through as everyone did, but when she asked for his help in locating a room, he knew she saw the beauty of the town as he did.

The next day, he learned she was looking for work. Two years later, and Charon still didn’t know what had brought her to Ferness.

She didn’t pry into his life, and he didn’t pry into hers. Even though he was insanely curious at times. Especially when she would look at a locket she kept in her purse.

Suddenly, Laura stopped and opened her eyes. Their gazes clashed, and as always, Charon found himself arrested by the pale green orbs that stared at him.

It was a good thing she wasn’t a Druid or Charon might give in to his desires. With every Warrior at MacLeod Castle finding their mates with Druids, it was difficult not to think about doing the same.

But he was better off alone. Not to mention, no matter how hard he tried to feel any kind of magic around Laura, there was none.

She wasn’t a Druid, and he had seen enough death in his long life. Not even the lust that burned through his veins could change his mind and have him slack his body with hers.

He knew it would be glorious to have her in his arms, to taste her kisses, and hear her cries of ecstasy, but he couldn’t stand to lose one more person in his life.

So, whatever pleasure he might find in her arms would have to be forgotten.

The glass door slid open and she greeted him with a soft smile he’d come to expect. “I was getting worried.”

Charon glanced at the deck. How much longer would she worry about him? There would come a time he would have to leave Ferness behind forever. The people he knew, the friends he had would stop thinking of him, and he would fade to nothing.

Maybe that’s why Phelan didn’t put down roots anywhere and why the other Warriors kept hidden at MacLeod Castle.

He thought he was doing something good for himself. In reality, he’d only made things more difficult. At one time, things had been so easy, so uncomplicated. Where had it all gone wrong?