Highlander's Beloved 02 - A Highlander's Passion (22 page)

Creighton, holding boots and socks, got on his knees in front of Bryce. “Listen to me now.” His kept his voice low as if hoping only Bryce could hear. “I get ye, man.” He tugged the socks on Bryce’s feet. “Believe me, I do.” He pushed on the boots, yanked on the shoestrings, and tightened them before tying them. His actions brought back memories of his doing the same thing when they were kids coming to grips with their da’s death. “I snatched these from yer closet in case ye do need to walk in an emergency. Earnan brought along crutches fer ye and a wheelchair.” He wrapped his large hands around Bryce’s ankles and squeezed. “I ken why ye need to go along. If it were Paisley, I’d be tearing apart everything in me path to get to her. I’m here to help ye get back yer woman. All ye need do is ask and
ʼ
tis done.” He pinned Bryce with dark eyes of sincerity. “I’m yer eldest brother, and I’ve got yer back.”

Bryce exhaled a sigh of relief. He could always count on Creigh; he had since the day their da died. He looked away and blinked for a minute to gain some control of his emotions. He clasped Creigh’s shoulder and squeezed. Creigh nodded once as if he understood and got to his feet.

“Thanks for yer thoughtfulness, everyone. Feels good to have clothes on again.” Bryce smiled at Ronan. “It’s fine if ye dinna want to ride with me. Ye can ride in the vehicle with Effie. She ought to be dressed and charging in here any minute now.”

“Effie?” Ronan roared.

“Yes?” She sauntered into the room, toting a large lime green bag over her shoulder that matched her slacks and her lime-and-pink-striped blouse. Small lime green loops inside larger hoops of the same color clanked when she moved her head. “I told Bryce if he left without me, I’d turn his pecker into a snail.” She arched an eyebrow at Ronan. “Do you have any objection to my riding along?”

His hand went to his crotch. “No, ma’am, none at all.”

“Good.” She swiveled to Kendric just as Earnan, Hamish, and Neilan, all shifters and part of the Matheson clan, entered the room. Effie went toe to toe with the police detective. “What reports are you getting on that phone tracking device of yours?”

“She’s in a vehicle of some kind. The driver’s broken every speed limit. He’s headed toward Glasgow and has quite a head start on us. If we go in cars, we’ll never catch up; that’s why we’re traveling by helicopters. I’ve got two fueled, waiting on the hospital’s helipad. Each holds four passengers and some equipment. I’ll pilot the one and Ronan will fly the other.”

Effie fingered Kendric’s badge and smiled up at him before she winked. “Will we have to go through any security?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I’m afraid to answer that question. Suppose ye tell me why ye ask.”

She brushed imaginary pieces of lint off his broad shoulders. “Well, there’s a matter of a small weapon in my purse.” She puckered her pink lips. “Just a wee weapon, as ye Scottish say.”

Kendric’s dark eyebrows dipped into a V. “Weapon, ma’am?”

“Yes. Small, sweetheart, and only Bryce can use it. The witches have blessed it for his success in killing this wicked wizard.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Ronan moaned. “A witchy doodad fer baby brother.”

Effie whirled on him. “You mind your manners, young man, or would that be snail dick? Did you think my earlier threat to mess with your pecker was nothing but an old woman’s puff of air?” There was much snickering and elbowing before Effie arched a finely plucked eyebrow at each man. “It took a lot of effort to get the weapon out of its secret hiding place, blessed, and tele-transported to me in time for this mission.”

Neilan elbowed Hamish and sniggered. “ ‘Mission,’ the old American calls it.”

“I willna have ye speak ill of Effie.” Earnan slid his arm around her narrow shoulders. “I’m sure she’s gone to much trouble fer Bryce’s success in doing away with this bastard.”

Kendric ran a hand down his face and around to the back of his neck. “May I see this ‘wee’ weapon?”

“Oh, sure.” Effie opened her purse and with both hands heaved from it an engraved lead dagger, longer than her arm from her elbow to her fingertips. The handle was gold and the six-inch tapered tip of the blade was silver.

“Holy fukin’ hell! Small?” Kendric’s gaze bounced from the blade to her wrinkled face.

Evidently she chose not to get on the policeman’s bad side any more than she already had. “Isn’t it beautiful? The combination of the three metals—gold, lead, and silver—are imperative in killing this evil wizard.” She spun to Bryce. “You must strike him in these three places and in this order. It’s very important.”

Her breathing grew heavy and she handed the dagger to Kendric, whose eyes widened as he hefted it. She held up three fingers. “Pierce his heart first.” She lowered one finger. “Then his neck, in the jugular vein.” One finger remained outstretched. “Lastly, his navel. Remember the order—heart, jugular, navel. And you must do this in human form. It was decided your bear should not have a taste of Fauste’s tainted blood. Some of the witches fear the bear would turn to the dark side, if he did. Is that clear?”

Buzzards and bats, the old woman was something else. “Yes, ma’am. May I ask what the engraving says or signifies?”

She nodded and pointed to the encryptions. “Of course. An intelligent man like you would want to know.” She shot a scowl at Neilan, who turned beet red. It’s Greek for ‘Kill that which is evil,’ or as we modern witches like to say, ‘Kill the fucker.’ ”

All the men choked and turned their backs, their shoulders shaking. She spared them a glower.

“I’ll give it to you closer to the time you’ll need it. Bryce, I cannot emphasize enough that you do not hesitate. Heart, jugular, navel, and then he will die and your love will be safe. But only
you
can do this. The weapon has been prepared and sanctified
only
for you.” She opened her large purse and Kendric shoved it back in.

Creighton took both of her hands in his. “Effie, ye know I love ye, but as Bryce’s brother and laird, I have questions. I watched Kenzie ram a sword into Fauste’s chest and he turned into a shimmering pool of water before floating off as a cloud. So if a sword didna kill him, how will that dagger do the job? I grant it’s big as bloody hell, but…” His gaze raked over Bryce, who felt warmed from the inside out by the affection and fear beaming from his eldest brother’s eyes.

“These are all good questions, darling. The sword Kenzie used was hardened steel. Steel holds no power against a wizard. But the combination of gold, lead, and silver encompasses an exceptional force. Trust me: If Bryce follows my instructions—and I’ll do my best to be nearby—he’ll be victorious.” She stood on tippy toe, cupped Creighton’s cheek, and kissed him. “I won’t let you down, my granddaughter’s beloved.”

“Aye, I trust ye, Gram. I just had to ask.” He helped Bryce into the wheelchair.

Kendric glanced around at everyone. “Are we ready to roll?”

Effie snatched her large bag from his grasp and slung it over her shoulder. “Gentlemen, I was born ready. Keep up and don’t dawdle.” Her green heels clicked on the tile floor as she all but ran down the hallway.

Bryce glanced back at Creighton, who was pushing his wheelchair. “God I hope your baby is just like her.”

Creighton grinned. “Hell, so do I.”

Kenzie was speeding to her death in a silver Rolls-Royce with opera blaring from all eight speakers. Her headache throbbed with each musical beat. She thought her head would explode with each pounding of the timpani drums and hoped to high heaven it would, to end this misery. She’d heard Effie use the expression ‘hell on wheels’; now she understood what it truly meant.

With a snap of his fingers, Fauste lowered the volume. Still, her ears continued to throb. “What you are listening to, daughter, is the opera
Marius et Fanny,
written by the Romanian composer Vladimir Cosma. Is it not grand? This performance was repeated several times on the television. I will teach you about your Romanian heritage. There is much to be proud of.”

“Why, when you’re only going to kill me anyway?” She shifted in her seat, the buttery-soft leather barely squeaking with her movement. “Drain the blood from me and store it in a refrigerator or freeze it fer when ye need it.” Fer
God’s sake, if ye must kill me, do it now so I dinna have to put up with yer insanity fer another minute. Besides, without Bryce, I’m as good as dead anyhow.

“You put very little value on your life, Roza-Kenzie. Ah, you know, I like that.” He nodded, his silver eyes glowing when he spared her a glance. “Yes, I shall call you by both names. One of those modern hyphenated jobs, so you will never forget who you should be and who you once were. No, I shall not let you die. Not until the child is strong and healthy from your milk. You will be able to nurse it for six months before I’ll have need of your blood. You’ll get to play mommy for a few months. A fair trade, yes?” He snapped his fingers again and once more the opera filled the confines of the car and battered the inside of her head.

“Where are ye taking me? Not that it matters.” She had to get a message to Bryce that she hadna left him of her own free will. She didna want him to think she never loved him.

Fauste tsked at her a couple times, grating on her nerves all the more. He snapped on the GPS screen. “We’re going to Glasgow, to the airport. I have a private jet waiting, fueled, and ready for takeoff. Then we’ll head for Romania, our motherland.”

Bryce and Effie were probably wondering where she was. She glanced out the side window as trees and towns whizzed by. Bryce would think she’d left him. He’d start hating her. Every day she’d love him more and he’d love her less. This was irony, wasna it? Now that she kent for sure she wanted to marry the rascal with the quick smile and the deep passion, she was being whisked away from him, never to set eyes on him again.

Tears blurred her vision before tenacity activated a slow burn in her stomach.

Was she seriously going to allow herself to become the victim of another sick man?

Oh no. Oh,
hell
no.

She glanced over her shoulder at Fauste, nodding to the music, lost to the strains of the violins, before she glanced out of the passenger window again. This time she smiled. Life with Duncan had made a survivor out of her. Damn if she wouldna give this wizard a run fer his Romanian money. She was Macha Verena, a witch in The Protectors Coven, and she wasna going down without a bloody hellofa fight.

As fer her pregnancy, this was the figment of a madman’s mind. The first time she and Bryce had unprotected sex was less than four days ago. That was barely time fer the sperm and egg to meet and shake hands, much less join DNA forces. No, Fauste was merely trying to play with her mind. It was time she remembered witches weren’t gullible…they were tricky as hell.

The weight of Effie’s cell phone in her skirt pocket registered. Her employer’s battery hadna been completely dead, just too low to make many calls. A teenager recently abducted by a sex pervert had been found by her cell phone’s location signal. She’d watched all about it on the news with Mary Kate while they folded laundry together a few days ago. If she kept the phone hidden right where it was, that would be one advantage.

Kenzie closed her eyes as if she were sleeping and planned some more. How far would the signal reach? Certainly not across the English Channel and Europe to Romania. Perhaps it would be best to leave it at the airport so when or if…No, she couldna think that way. She had to think positive. What did she have left but positive thoughts?

Just as she was about to board the private plane Fauste had engaged or, fer all she knew, owned, she would stumble and leave the phone on the ground. The signal would lead the police to the runway fer private jets. Then they could check flight plans. If only she could leave a note fer Bryce with it. Having him ken she didna want to leave him was so important. He had to comprehend she loved him more than the next minute of her life…even the last minute.

She would compose a chant to reach his heart. One only he could hear. The thought was a silly one. The kind many would claim only a numpty-headed fool could have. But there was magic in witchcraft—and in love.

Ronan took the controls of the helicopter holding Creighton, Hamish, and Neilan, with Bryce’s wheelchair in the back. Kendric helped Effie, Bryce, and Earnan, with all his medical supplies, into the copter equipped with the new tracking system. Once everyone was settled and belted in, Kendric slipped on his headgear and his communication device. Ronan did the same.

Earnan sat next to Kendric while Effie and Bryce stretched out in the rear seats. She took his hand. “We have much talking to do.”

He rubbed his thigh, hoping the searing pain would soon subside. “Ye talk for the next few minutes while I listen. Be prepared, though—Kendric is one daredevil pilot.”

At the mention of his name, Kendric shifted in his seat and handed them each headgear. “Put these on. Ye can hear what’s happening, but ye will not be able to talk into them. If it gets too much fer yer fragile nerves”—he pierced Bryce with a smirk—“just hang them around yer neck. I’ll be starting communications with home base, which will be Maisie, our dispatcher, and Ronan now.” He started flipping switches and the rotors came to life, a gentle vibration overtaking the helicopter.

“Maisie, this is Kendric, pilot one. Pilot two is Ronan. Check in, pilot two.”

“Pilot two speaking,” Ronan’s strong voice boomed over the headgear. “I’m guessing you’ll be dealing mostly with Kendric, pilot one.”

“Aye, but thank ye fer giving me a reading on yer voice.
ʼ
Tis almost as handsome-sounding as Kendric’s. Pardon me, pilot one.”

Pilot one gave pilot two the finger. “What do ye have fer me, Maisie?” Kendric kept up a continual flipping of switches as he jotted down figures on a clipboard.

“The signal is now moving away from Glasgow. West. Still speeding. I’m guessing the driver is heading fer the Glasgow International Airport.”

Kendric shoved his clipboard between his seat and a control box. “Pilot one taking off.” The metal bird rose and Bryce closed his eyes fer a second, hoping his stomach would behave itself. “Pilot two, you’re cleared fer takeoff in sixty seconds.”

“Roger, pilot one.”

“Maisie, contact the airport fer me.” Kendric glanced over his shoulder at Effie and covered his mouthpiece with the curl of his hand. “Would this Fauste have the resources fer a private jet?”

“He can get whatever he wants. Money is no object.”

Kendric nodded and removed his hand. “Maisie, check with the traffic controller in charge of the runway fer private jets. See if any of them have filed a flight plan fer this morning. I’m thinking he’ll be headed fer Romania, but check all private takeoffs. Hard to tell where Fauste is planning on taking his abductee.”

“Copy that.”

Soaring over the rugged beauty of the Highlands was always a treat fer Bryce, especially early in the morning as the sun rose in its pink and gray glory to announce another day. He loved it best when the fog hugged the mountains and steep hills of rocks and the pines and other Scottish trees like a blanket of heavenly thistledown. Leaning his head against the window, he absorbed every detail. Aye, these Highlands were rough and unbreakable, just like their inhabitants.

Bryce heard Kenzie’s voice. He stirred in his seat, evidently asleep and dreaming. And what a comforting delusion it was, hearing his beloved saying the same words over and over even after he opened his eyes. He pulled the earphones down around his neck, glanced out the window at the hills and rocky streams they flew over, and shook his head. “Effie,” he whispered.

She wrapped one of his hands in the coolness of hers and leaned his way. “What is it, sweetheart? Your aura looks troubled.”

He looked into her different-colored eyes. “Am I awake?”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Your eyes are open and you’re making sense when you talk. Why do you ask?”

“I’m hearing Kenzie.” He leaned forward and forked his fingers through his hair. “I’m losing me mind. I’m so worried about her, I canna think straight.”

Effie patted his hand. “Maybe not. She might be trying her damnedest to send you a message. With her powers, she might be able to. What is she saying?”

“It’s a rhyme she’s repeating over and over.”

The old woman nodded and smiled. “I’m betting it’s her. Tell me the rhyme.”

He unhooked his seat belt so he could whisper in her ear; he didna want anyone else to hear.
“I’ll love ye, Bry, until I die…Fauste in his mania is flying me to Romania…I truly love thee, please dinna hate me.”

Effie shook her finger at him. “It’s unusual for a Wiccan message to reach a human, but there are a few written records in the ancient books about it being done, especially when the emotional connection is strong.”

“Can I send one back to her so she kens I’ve heard her?”

She shook her head. “I can try reaching her with something brief like ‘He’s heard you’ that will put her at ease, but I can’t be sure she’ll get it. The two of us don’t have the connection you two do.”

“What if I try? It couldna hurt, right?” He had to let his calico-eyed darling know, to ease her mind. He didna want her to die or suffer thinking he hated her. Damn, he had to try to reach his woman through thought transference.

“The world is full of possibilities, Bryce. It never hurts to try. Sometimes people give up too easily. They focus on the negative instead of the magnificence of what could be.” Her fingertips swept across his forehead. “Unclutter your mind.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Open your heart. Keep the message brief and repeat it after she says hers. Don’t try to talk over her. I’ll close my eyes and do what I can to open the channels of communication. Hold my hand while you try to contact her.”

Bryce closed his eyes, clasped Effie’s hand, and waited fer Kenzie to finish her poem. When she did, he silently answered. “I understand, luv. I’m coming fer ye.” She spoke again, repeating the same little rhyme. When she was through, he mentally reiterated his words. Back and forth the noiseless, repetitive communication went. He should have checked his watch to keep track of how long he’d been at it, but the thought never occurred to him. All that mattered was hearing her voice and hoping against hope she’d hear his.

Then, nothing.

Their rhythm had stopped. His heart seized mid-beat.
No! No, God, no. I need the security of her voice.

“She’s gone silent.” He leaned forward in his seat and forked his fingers through his hair again. Bloody hell, he’d go insane if he didna hear her. As long as he could receive her chant, he knew she was still alive.

Kendric banked the helicopter to the right and Bryce leaned his head against the coolness of the window. Pain twisted his heart and clutched his gut. He’d lost her.

“Bry?”

He jerked straight in his seat.
“Beloved?”

“Airport.”

“I’m coming er ye.”
He hadna lost her. He’d battle his way through hell to get Kenzie back. Fighting Fauste would be akin to doing that, but the end result would be worth it if he could secure his future with the woman he loved.

“Yeah, Maisie?” Kendric said into his mouthpiece.

Bryce slipped his earphones back on to pick up whatever information was being passed to Kendric.

“Pilot one. A Gulfstream private jet, Juliet-Foxtrot-Six-Six-Six, has registered a flight plan to Baia Mare, Romania, with a stopover in Frankfurt. No doubt to gas up or maybe to pick up a passenger. It’s currently setting on private runway Charlie-one-two.”

“Yer a genius, Maisie. What time is it scheduled fer takeoff?”

“In twenty-eight minutes, sir. Refueling is still taking place. So is maintenance.”

“Copy that. Thank ye, darlin’. Ye may have saved two lives this early morning—the young lady who was abducted and her fiancé, me cousin Bryce.” Kendric began normal communications with the landing tower, identifying his official rank and fudging Ronan’s a tad.

Earnan shifted in his seat to examine Bryce. “I’m going to inject ye with a strong painkiller fer yer leg. I typically use it on horses.
ʼ
Twon’t make ye sleepy or slow yer reaction time. I dinna like to use it often on humans, fer it can be habit-forming. Can ye reach back fer me brown leather bag?”

Once Bryce passed him the briefcase, Earnan prepared the injection while Bryce raised in his seat to slide down his sweatpants. He soon realized he wore no boxers. Earnan saw his predicament and handed him a sweater he’d taken off earlier. Bryce used it to cover his cock and balls.

The veterinarian slipped out of his seat and crouched in front of Bryce. He removed the bandage and examined the incision. “
ʼ
Tis healing nicely on the outside. Let’s hope the inside is doing as well.” He laid his hand over it. “Dinna feel a fever. Aye, always a good sign.”

A cool rub of an alcohol wipe, the prick of the needle, and the sting as the medicine spread through Bryce’s thigh. Earnan covered it with an extra-thick bandage, nearly double and as dense as the previous patch. The momentary cold numbness changed to pain-free normalcy.
Damn, these are some fukin’ good drugs.

“ETA fer the airport is fifteen minutes. I’ve cleared it with the runway tower on the western end, the one they use fer international flights, fer both of us to land in front of the Gulfstream. Then we’ll disembark and board the jet. Creighton and Ronan will lead the charge to hold Fauste so Bryce can stab him with the dagger.”