Highland Pull (Highland Destiny 2) (9 page)

Miranda left Gabhran with very explicit directions for what to do with the rest of his day. When they’d spoken this morning, she had been reserved, bordering on rude, and who could blame her? Her black eye was a painful reminder to him of just how badly things could go wrong, intentions be damned. If following her directions would help her, he would follow them to the letter.

He called Alfred and sent him on a few errands, then sat down at his kitchen table with a pad and pen. Miranda wanted him to write everything down that he’d learned during these last several months,
then they would make a copy. She would keep one copy and he could put the other in his vault. Whenever, wherever his next life was, he would eventually be able to return to the vault, he was sure of it.

Miranda was back at the clinic continuing the investigation into Alysone’s disappearance. He wasn’t sure she believed him, but she hadn’t called him outright crazy. It seemed to count for something that he knew Marie, and that she had made him a gris-gris. On the other hand, the fact that Gabhran had stormed into the night, drunk and in a towering rage definitely raised her warning flags. And she knew of the darkness within him, had experienced it firsthand. 

He was unable to tell her where he’d gone after he had left her, other than Congo Square in Armstrong Park. He’d sat on a bench and finished his bottle. After that, the night was a blur until he’d shown up on his own front porch after sunrise, still wearing only a pair of shorts and sandals. With blood on his hands. 

He’d withheld that little detail from Miranda. He assumed he’d gotten in a fight somewhere along the way, since his knuckles were scraped up. 

Christ, why can’t I remember? Why would I hurt Alysone? She was the only one who could understand my predicament. No, I wouldna have hurt her.
There was no need to tell Miranda about the blood.

****

This day could hardly get any worse, Miranda thought. She’d had a hangover when she woke, then she’d caught a glimpse of the shiner Gabhran had given her. By the time the guys at the station had finished with her, she’d been in a foul mood. Oh, she’d realized he hadn’t meant to hit her. He was just trying to get lose from the hold she had on his shorts, but still, it was humiliating. The whole night was humiliating. She told the old standby lie about running into a door, and ignored the comments as best she could.

She’d been first detective up on the case board, so when the missing person call came in, she’d welcomed the distraction. She hurried off to the clinic, and was confronted with a story only a crazy person could tell. The missing woman was hospitalized because she had lost her memory and thought she was from another time and place. There didn’t seem to be any sign of a struggle, she wasn’t a suicide risk, and everyone said she was getting better. The clinic
director had provided her with a list of the staff and volunteers, so she could begin questioning everyone. That’s when the shit hit her mental fan.

Miranda had been grateful to get a case so early in the
morning, she’d needed a distraction. Now, instead of a distraction, she was forced to think about Gabhran and about last night. The story he’d told her this morning was outrageous. Just enough outrageous that there might be some truth to it. She was going to take him to the bayou to see Marie tonight. She would get to the bottom of his story and find out what happened to Alysone.

“We’re all finished with the room, Detective. I found one spot on the edge of the dresser that is positive for human blood. It’s small, but I think I got enough for a DNA match. If you get a suspect, you let me know, we can match type pretty easily. The finger prints are probably going to be no help, since just about every person who works here has been in that room in the last week.” The crime scene technician carried his equipment to the truck, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

****

They had been lucky to capture Liam, Marie thought. Even with his magick suspended by the potions she’d given him, he was a powerful man. No one was sure where he’d gone from the hospital courtyard, but true to form, he’d returned to his room just before dawn. The night concierge had gathered all the players before calling Liam’s room.

“Sir, this is Andre, down in the lobby. I saw that you just returned, and I’d like to send a little treat to your room, on the house. If you like the sample I send, you may order more at any time by calling room service and asking for me. If it’s not to your liking, you might consider ordering something more suited to your particular taste. I have a varied menu.” He’d hung up before Liam had had a chance to reply. Andre wouldn’t have worried, he’d known what type of appetite Liam had.

She could picture the scene, now. When Liam opened the door, he would have found a beautiful woman wearing a long black satin cape, black thigh high boots, and a leather bustier. He’d have no doubt immediately invited her in. She’d have glided into the room carrying a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and a lot of attitude.

An hour later, they’d received word that Liam was unconscious, and the rest of Andre’s crew had gone to work. All record of him staying at their hotel was removed. Should Marie want to get rid of him, he would disappear without a trace.

Now he was hers for the next two days, and oh, they looked to be very enjoyable days. And nights.

Liam had briefly tested his bonds and his magick, but had acquiesced rather quickly when he’d realized it was futile to resist. Marie had made him her offer, and then left him alone for more than an hour to think over what she’d wanted. Now she was back, and dressed in nothing but a filmy white caftan that covered her completely, yet revealed everything.

It was late afternoon, and the ceremonies would soon begin around New Orleans. She lit the candles while Liam watched, still tied face up on the bed. She approached him, gazing into his eyes. He never looked away.

“What say you to my proposal, Liam? Will you cooperate?” She placed a finger over his lips to prevent his answer. Replacing her finger with her lips, she kissed him gently. He opened his mouth greedily, seeking more from her kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips, making a growl low in his throat that she felt deep in her belly.

She scraped her nails against his scalp and pulled his hair to bring his head forward kissing him harder. Their tongues battled, he tried to pull hers deeper into his mouth, then he pushed hard against her lips, to force his way inside. He began to thrust his tongue, in and out, blatantly imitating sex, while she sucked on his tongue, holding it before releasing it. 

When she finally pulled away from the kiss, her lips felt swollen and his gaze was hot with desire. He strained against his restraints, arched his back, and pushed his hips up, drawing her attention to his impressive erection. Marie reached to untie one of his wrists.

“Leave it,” he growled. “Take what you want.”

She did.

****

Randi knocked on his backdoor, dressed all in white, knowing she looked washout and tired. Gabhran offered her a drink, and she took the ice-cold ale gratefully.

“Can we talk, lass? About last night?”

“No we can’t talk about last night, unless you have something to confess,” she snapped. “And, if you do, could you give me a head’s up, so I can read you your rights first. Otherwise, we have work to do. Alysone is still missing, in case you forgot.

He winced. “Nay, lass, I didna forget.” He paused for a moment looking down at
himself. “Are you sure I have to wear this?” He pointed to his own white cotton shirt and pants and made a face.

Randi laughed at his woeful expression. “Buck up, Doc, this way you won’t stand out, everyone’ll be dressed in white.” She felt him relax at her tone, and struggled for stern. “Not so fast. You are not forgiven, and you’re still a person of interest in Alysone’s disappearance.”

She quickly turned her back, not wanting to see how he took that news. “Let’s go.” She led the way through the courtyard to the garage under her apartment and wheeled out a motorcycle. She tossed a helmet at Gabhran, and tucked her hair into her own helmet. She straddled the bike, looked over her shoulder, and said, “Get on.”

He climbed on behind her, touched her lightly, as if unsure of where to put his hands. Randi was glad he couldn’t see the grin on her face. She took off fast, so he was forced to grab her around the waist to keep from falling off, and she roared into the night.

She wasn’t sure if Marie would be at one of the lesser ceremonies early in the evening, but she would definitely be at the fishing shack later, so they had time to grab a burger on the way. While they ate, Randi told Gabhran stories of St. John’s Eve and Marie.

“I doona understand how you know Marie,” he said.

“Oh we’re second cousins, twice removed and over easy, or something like that.” She laughed easily. “It’s a big family, and we get confused about how we’re all related, so we all just say we’re cousins. It’s easier that way.”

Back on the bike, they headed to the bayou. Randi parked next to the lean-to and grabbed a pirogue, a shallow, to drag down to the water.

“Get in, I’ll drive.” She laughed.

The moon was rising as they glided through the
water, the bayou was alive with the sounds of the early evening. She confidently navigated the dark waterway, enjoying the expression of pleasure on Gav’s face as he looked at the watery cypress forest.

“
Cooeee,” she called out as they approached a dilapidated looking shack surrounded by a large deck and raised from the water on stilts. Another small boat was tied near a ladder that extended from the water to the deck.

Marie stepped through the doorway, and answered Randi’s call.

“Hey, cuz, what’re you doing out here tonight, did you come for St. John’s? No one is here yet, but they will be soon. You want to set on the porch awhile?”

Marie stepped back inside, while Randi tied off the boat and they climbed the ladder. They pulled lawn chairs from the storage closet and set them around the deck. Randi heard Marie whispering and a deep rumble in return. She raised an eyebrow at Gabhran.

“Looks as though your cousin has company.”

“She’ll have a lot of company as soon as the other ceremonies are over. The final event of the night always takes place here. We probably won’t be invited to stay.”

Marie stepped out, carrying candles and corn meal. “So, you found my cousin, Druid.”

“Aye, she is my neighbor. Come to think of it, you already knew she was my neighbor, since it was your
grandda who took me to that house to begin with.”

Smiling serenely, Marie continued to set things around the deck, then walked over to Gabhran and took his face in her hands. She said nothing for so long that Gabhran began to look uncomfortable. With a deep sigh, she pulled him down to whisper in his ear, before kissing his cheek and turning to Randi.

“You can believe his story, my sweet. Now, Druid, go to the boat, I must speak with my cousin alone.”

Gabhran looked a question to Randi, who nodded, so down the ladder he went, to wait in the boat.

When Randi joined him several minutes later, she was quiet, her feelings tightly under control. She could sense that it made Gabhran nervous; he probably wanted the smiling Randi back, but she wasn’t feeling very happy at the moment. She didn’t object when he put his hands around her waist and pulled tight against her for the ride back to the house. There was comfort for both of them in their closeness.

Liam sat on the hard wooden chair and watched Marie gather her supplies for the ritual; he was taut with desire, anxious for the ceremony to begin. He was dressed in a pair of white drawstring cotton pants and naught more, his chest and abdomen were a complex pattern of symbols that disappeared below his waistband. The ritual they would perform tonight had been successful only once before, nearly a hundred years ago, and the spiritual leaders of Voodoo were counting on Marie to be able to perform it again. His magick was in stasis, not accessible to him. Whatever spells this woman had placed on him kept him tightly controlled and subject to her every demand. And she made many demands. Earlier, when she started to untie him, he’d stopped her with a word. He wanted to lose control, to be at her mercy. He knew she could kill him with a spell or potion and none would ever know. It was exhilarating.

They had been at it for hours. She had given him a potion that prevented his climax without diminishing his abilities or desire. When he’d told her to take what she wanted, she’d given a slow, feral smile
, then her clever mouth had tasted, licked, and kissed every part of him. He bucked his hips, cried out with frustrated desire, and made demands of his own. Marie just laughed and continued to seek her own pleasure.

When she straddled his hips to lower her nipple into his mouth, he’d sucked it so hard he drew a cry of pain from her that quickly turned to moans of pleasure. When he’d nipped her in a particularly sensitive spot in his frustration, he’d earned swift retribution that he was helpless to avoid or escape. Marie had been satisfied many times and in many ways, yet
his own release remained elusive. All he could do was serve at her pleasure.

She had promised his release would come with the letting of the blood, and that it would have the blessed strength of the spirits. He was more than ready. He had no fear for his safety; he knew she was using his power to supplement hers, to strengthen the magick that had been decimated by a force of nature. How fitting his own magick would help to restore magick weakened by a hurricane so close in name to his own mother,
Katerina.

A woman called out from a boat on the bayou. Even without his magick he sensed an enormous force of power. Gabhran was outside the shack. Marie told him to wait inside while she went out to talk to the new arrivals. He wondered what game the Voodoo Queen was playing?

How ironic it was that he’d spent months tracking Gav in order to bring him completely under the spell of darkness. Now the man was here, and Liam prepared himself for battle. He wouldn’t kill him unless it was absolutely necessary—but the woman with him could easily go. It would be all the push Gav needed. He had waited behind the door, but Marie had sent Gav away, and spoke not of the encounter, so he kept his own counsel.

As the others arrived and drums began to pound, rhythmically, calling to a primitive part of his soul, he knew the ceremony was about to begin. Marie came and got him and led him to the center of a ring of people. A large bonfire appeared to burn on top of the water nearby, and
candles lined the deck railing. Marie began the ritual prayers and invocations; a man stepped forward and draped a large snake across her shoulders. The snake hissed, eerily holding its head up, while it sinuously twined around her. Her body glistened beneath the sheer white fabric, and Liam was rock hard with suppressed desire.

Everyone was twirling and chanting, dancing and crying out; the drums grew louder. Marie closed the circle she was dancing around him until she could touch him. She caressed him with her hands as she continued to draw the circle closer, finally pressing her body against his, emulating the sex act as the drums reached a frantic pace.

This ceremony was similar to other sorcerer’s rites, and he thrummed with excitement at the thought of his seed joining that of his ancestors in this form of a fertility ritual. On an unseen cue, the drums suddenly stilled and the night air reverberated in the silence.

Marie drew a dagger from the folds of her caftan and looking deep in his eyes approached his bare chest with the blade pointed at his heart. With the knife hovering, she used the fingers of her other hand to trace the symbols painted on his skin while she recited her sacred words. When she put the point to a symbol to scratch lightly against his skin, tiny droplets of blood appeared, marking the path of her blade.

An intense and primordial drive filled Liam, entering through those tiny scratches, and swelling within him, driving his desire even higher.

“More,” he growled at her, leaning into the blade, drawing more blood.

Marie cried out, her words foreign, exotic, intoxicating. The drums began again, pounding in time with his pulse. The circle of worshippers was shrouded in smoky tendrils, the scent of burning cypress lingering on the heavy air. Marie and Liam began a dance so old none alive had seen it, but the spirits that entered their bodies knew what to do. The magick in the bayou was ancient, primitive, and alive.

The snake slithered and twisted around the two of them, as they writhed around each other. Marie continued to draw the blade across his chest, and then his back, until blood dripped from him, staining the deck. Liam was lifted into a state of ecstasy. Marie pressed herself against Liam’s bloody body and pulled him into a deep soul-searing kiss, then she handed Liam the blade. In one swift stroke of the dagger, Liam cut her caftan from her body; then he began to mark her with the blade.

Both bloody, the spirits controlled their bodies completely now, and they began the mating. Those gathered turned their backs and began the ritual chanting, the drums beat a tempo, while Liam mounted Marie, there on the deck, under the stars, magick surrounding them.

As the drums once again reached their crescendo, Liam finally reached his peak, and the seed was ripped from his body with painful intensity, he threw his head back and cried into the night; Marie’s cries of passion joining his. She made one last plea to the spirits in a language he couldn’t understand, before they both lost consciousness. A deep magick settled over the bayou.

****

As they entered the courtyard, Gabhran walked Miranda to the bottom of her stairs, said goodnight, and went in his back door. He stood, trying to decide what to do next. He was too wound up to sleep, going for a walk didna seem such a good idea, and sitting in the courtyard was definitely out after last night.

Finally, he sat in a chair in his living room and put his head in his hands, trying to sort out all that had happened and all he was feeling. His time in New Orleans was always meant to be short-lived, he’d planned on learning what he could from Alysone and then looking for others with similar stories. Now that Alysone was missing, his reason for staying here was also missing. Unless you counted Miranda.

He felt sick when he thought about what he’d done to Miranda last night. Had he gone farther it would have been beyond forgiveness. Yet, she’d seemed willing to give him a second chance. The memory of holding her, of tasting her, was one he would cherish, as long as he could. He had enjoyed their evening together tonight until she’d spoken with her cousin. Then she’d shut him out, closed herself off from him. It left him feeling insubstantial, as if he were already gone.

He pulled out the letter he’d written to himself earlier and added his memories of Miranda, and hoped he would be able to carry it forward to his next life. He sealed the envelope, addressed it to his Edinburgh home and put it in the letterbox on the front porch. He locked up the front of the house, and was just returning to the living room, when he heard a soft knock at the back door.

Miranda was standing there in her open robe, but this time she was wearing a pair silk boxers and a camisole underneath. Single woman who lives alone, dressed for bed, not to seduce. She had a bowl of popcorn, a movie in her hands, and a sheepish look on her face. Gabhran fumbled with the lock and invited her in.

“Miranda, come in,” he ushered her in and locked the door behind her.

“Is it too late? I didn’t feel like being alone right now. I brought a movie if you want to watch.”

He looked at the title. “
Braveheart
. Really, lass?” His rich laughter seemed to roll over her as he watched a shiver of awareness ripple through her body.

Miranda flushed at his comment and a look passed quickly over her face that he didn’t quite understand. She was still keeping her emotions closed off from him, and he wondered why she was here. He led her to the living room where they sat on opposite sides of the room.

“Is this official business, Detective?” he asked, afraid she would say it was.

“Not really. Marie vouched for your story. I have a lot of questions, but I need a little time to accept it all first.”

He struggled with his conscience for a minute, but he knew he had to tell her all of it. She was already lost to him, and she needed to be. He was not the man for her. He propped his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. “I do have a confession of sorts to make. Something I withheld from you this morning.” He refused to look at her. “When I arrived home this morning, there was blood on my hands. I doona know where it came from.”

He felt the weight of Miranda’s stare before he finally looked up and met her eyes.

“I didna hurt Alysone, I swear it, I wouldna have any reason to hurt her.”

“Were you fucking her?”

Shit. The cop was back. Well what did I expect.

“No, Miranda, there is only one woman I wish to take to my bed.” He smiled and tried for charming.

“Stop it.” No smile, all business. “Did you hurt her in any way?”

“I doona remember much of last night, lass, but she was my only connection to my
changes; she is a nice lass. I was trying to help her, I have no reason to harm her.”

“Let me see your hands,” she demanded.

When he put his hands, palm up in hers, she looked at them carefully, then turned them over and examined the knuckles. There were abrasions and scrapes on the knuckles and palms. “It looks like you were fighting.”

She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe and made a call, asking for the Armstrong Park security tapes to be pulled from the previous night. She left a callback number and hung up.

“What else do you remember?”

“I thought this
wasna an official visit.”

“Well, you were the one who decided to confess something,” she snapped.

“Miranda, look at me.” He took her hands in his. “The real confession I have to make is about my behavior toward you last night.” He brushed his knuckle lightly across her cheekbone, just below the bruised eye. He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on the bruise.

“I am more sorry than I can ever say. I will walk you home, now. You had a long night, followed by an even longer day today.”

Miranda’s back stiffened. “Are you asking me to leave?”

“
Och, no, lass, never.” Thinking of opportunities lost, he asked, “Miranda, ever since you spoke to Marie, something has changed, will you tell me what is going on with you?”

Miranda looked up at his face,
then shook her head. “What’s it feel like, Gabhran, the dark? What does it do to you?” she whispered.

Gabhran turned his back to her. “It wants me to do dark things, to change
who I am. Worthington, the Druid Master wants me to join him, he thinks the time for Druids to rule the world is here, and that I have some kind of power that will help him. I listened to him, because I was looking for other answers, and I thought I could walk away whene’er I wanted.

“Marie somehow foretold I was coming here to New Orleans, and she led me to this house. Here I feel—less conflicted, it helps keep the dark at bay. The
gris gris helps as well. For that matter, so does the music. I told you last night I forgot to wear the gris gris, I wasna planning on seeing anyone, just a quick trip, for my walk and dinner. By the time we got to Finn’s place, I was consumed with having you, at any cost.”

He turned and faced her then, regretting the disappointment he saw reflected in her eyes. “I canna take it back, lass, but know that I would, if it were possible.”

Their gazes locked for an impossibly long moment.

Miranda’s phone played a jazzy little number, releasing them both from the moment.

“Detective Close.” she turned her back to him and listened for a long time.

“No, thanks, that’s good work. I appreciate the rush.” She listened a while longer, nodding her head in silent agreement with the person on the other end of the conversation.

“No really, that’s all for now, but ask the video geeks to clip it to a DVD for me and put it on my desk. Make some stills, too. Yeah, thanks again,” she said before flipping her phone closed.

Gabhran was getting better at reading her emotions he mused. Just for a minute there, he had sensed a flash of grim satisfaction; the cop was still the one in the room with him. Then she walled herself off again, keeping her thoughts and feelings tightly in check. He didna want to
know the source of the cop’s satisfaction. She gave a little nod, then blew out a breath.

“Do you mind if we just sit and watch the movie for a while?” she asked.

“Nay, lass, I doona mind.” He picked up her bowl of popcorn and led the way upstairs to the room with the television. It was furnished with a couch and two recliners, and Gabhran busied himself with starting the movie and lowering the lights, giving Miranda time to choose her seat first. Since she had plopped herself in the middle of the couch, he made for one of the recliners.