Lost Highlander Page 20

  “Hurry,” Daria hissed as Evelyn tried to stop her heart from exploding out of her chest. She reached her arm over the parapet wall and waggled her fingers at Evelyn. Evelyn slid sideways the rest of the way and gratefully let Daria help her over the wall. She crumbled to a heap on the parapet walkway and leaned against the wall, shaking uncontrollably.

  “Afraid of heights, are ye?” Daria asked with a snicker. Evelyn ignored her and opened an eye to see where they were. She recognized the steps down to the hallway leading to the tower door, but now it was all open walkway, sheltered by a shoulder high wall with crenellations. The tower looked far more foreboding in this time. With no brick walls attached to it on three sides diminishing it’s vastness, it rose high into the night sky, a lone citadel blocking out the stars. The tiny arrow slits showed no light behind them.

  Daria’s head jerked up and an instant later, Evelyn heard it too. Footsteps were coming from the far end of the parapet, heading toward the tower. Even in the darkness, the person wouldn’t help but notice them taking up half the walkway. There wasn’t even a barrel to hide behind.

  “Bugger. That’ll be the guard,” Daria said, shoving Evelyn toward the tower door. “Pray the outer door is no’ locked. I’ll take care of this lad.”

  Evelyn ran crouched over, turning the huge creaking handle of the outer door and putting all her weight against it. It slowly groaned open and she slipped in, heaving it shut behind her. She whirled around, trying to get her bearings in the near dark, foolishly feeling along the wall for a light switch.

  The next door led to a short winding staircase and she couldn’t believe how different the tower was in this time. In modern times it was fitted out like a comfortable guest suite, but now there was no mistaking it for anything other than a bleak jail.

  She climbed the stairs and felt around until she hit a door. It was locked and no amount of tugging on it would shake it free. A low burning lantern hanging from a hook on the opposite wall was casting a weak puddle of light. Grabbing the lantern, she held it up and turned in a slow circle, spotting a heavy key ring hung on a bent nail stuck into a wooden cross beam. She managed to get the keys down and turned back to the door.

  When she finally got the key in the lock and managed to turn it, she swung open the door and stepped onto the soggy straw floor. It smelled fairly unpleasant, but more like mold than anything else, and Evelyn was pleased that Sam wasn’t being kept in piles of human filth.

  Closing the door behind her, she held up the nearly useless lantern. The room was empty save for a three legged stool leaning against the wall with a stub of candle under it. Swooping for the candle, she lit it with a bit of straw she stuck into the lantern flame. The untrimmed wick flared brightly.

  “Sam?”

  He was leaning against the wall under an arrow slit and he blinked in the candlelight. He looked awful, mud spattered, sweater torn at the shoulder seam, dried blood caked on his collar. He had a painful looking black eye and a cut on his lip. She dropped to the floor and threw her arms around his neck, kissed him, then pulled away as he groaned in pain.

  “Oh, my God, did I hurt you?” she asked worriedly.

  He hugged her back and laughed weakly. “No, never. I was scared they’d find you.” He kissed her again. “Have you been drinking whiskey?” he asked incredulously. He shifted stiffly and she was afraid he was more hurt than he was letting on or that she could see.

  “A little. I had to.” She grabbed the bit of candle and tried to examine his face, half blinding him. He held up his hand against the flame.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, squeezing his arm, so grateful he was alive.

  “Some hunters found me. They’re all going nuts because Brian escaped so they were a little zealous in taking me in.” He glanced nervously at the door and spoke in a rush. “They think I’m just a beggar from down south, trying to find work. That’s what I told them, anyway. I think they’re sending a runner to see if anyone’s seen me around.”

  She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, feeling for injuries. He flinched when she slid her hands across his ribs.

  “Do you think anything’s broken?” she asked, wondering if he’d be able to make the climb back to the secret tunnel. He shrugged and cringed at the pain it caused him. Not knowing what to do for him, she kissed him once more. He smiled weakly.

  “How are you here?” he asked.

  “Fake Piper. She found me when I was out looking for you this morning. Her name’s Daria Glen, she’s a cousin. She’s certifiably insane.”

  “And she’s helping us?”

  Evelyn paused. “That remains to be seen, I guess.” She reached down in the darkness and found his hand. He slid his other hand around her waist and squeezed.

  “What are you wearing?” he tugged at the laces of her dress.

  Daria crashed into the cell, a low burning lantern swinging at her side. Sam and Evelyn shielded their eyes.

  “We must leave,” she said with an edge in her voice. Evelyn stood up immediately and pulled Sam to his feet, supporting him as best she could. She didn’t think he could manage the trip on the outer wall back to the secret passage, and was relieved when Daria kept walking briskly past the part of the parapet they’d have to climb over. They continued on along the parapet walkway, ducking below the crenellations. Evelyn tripped over something and nearly went flying, but Sam gripped her arm and pulled her along behind Daria. Evelyn craned her neck to see what she’d tripped over and in the retreating light of Daria’s shuttered lantern, made out a dark plaid lump, a pale hand sticking out from it.

  Had Daria killed the guard? Evelyn tried to get another look but it was too dark and they were now too far past him. No, surely not. She must have just clocked him with the lantern. She thought about Mrs. Abernathy, the little old lady from Sam’s village, probably just sitting in her house drinking tea and watching a game show when she got axed. Who were these monsters? Were people completely dispensable in this time? Was killing someone the same as going for a stroll?

  “Stop, stop.” Sam grabbed her hand and yanked her to a halt. A bobbing, flickering light was heading toward them.

  “Another bloody guard,” whispered Daria, her eyes glittering and wide, teeth bared in a snarl. Evelyn took a step back, feeling as if they might have a better chance with the guard. Evelyn pulled on Sam’s arm, trying to get him to run back to the tower cell with her. She even thought she’d risk climbing over and trying to make it back to the tunnel. She just didn’t want to be there anymore. She wanted to be away from Daria.

  Daria shrieked and the guard came tearing toward them.

  “What in the hell is she doing?” Sam said, pushing Evelyn behind him and clutching his ribs. He was clearly in agony but was valiantly going to try to protect her. The guard was almost upon them. Daria stepped out and waved her arms at him.

  “They’re escaping,” she cried, pointing back at Sam and Evelyn. “Hurry!”

  The guard raced faster, he was actually pulling out his sword. Evelyn’s vision started failing her, and she knew she was going to pass out. With the grace of a bullfighter, Daria swept out of the guard’s way as he plowed past her, and stuck out her little slippered foot. The man went sprawling on the walkway, sliding past Sam and Evelyn in a clatter of weapons. He grunted as he finally came to a stop, his head banging into the parapet wall. Evelyn prayed this would knock him out, but he merely shook his head and started to rise. Before Sam could even take a step forward to try to disarm him, Daria flew at the guard and landed kneeling on his back. Wrenching the man’s head back by his hair, she slit his throat with a small shiny blade. Evelyn watched in stunned horror as the gleaming metal sliced through the man’s skin, blood pouring out over it, over Daria’s small white hand.

  Panting, she let the guard’s head fall to the walkway with a heavy thud and wiped her knife on his shirt. Blood continued spurting from his neck and his hand was convulsively opening and shutting, as if he were trying to gr
ab something. Sam took several long strides away from them and threw up. Evelyn felt like that was something she might want to do too, eventually, but right now she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man’s hand as it continued its frantic clutching.

  Daria was swearing and kicking at things. The parapet, the poor almost dead man. His hand finally stopped. Finally. Evelyn tried to swallowed the sour taste in her mouth and looked away.

  “This is no’ right,” Daria was saying over and over. “I must go. That’s all there is to do. I must go.” She swiveled her head like a snake and fastened her gaze on Evelyn. Evelyn froze under her stare, her mind curiously calm. She felt like she could have been out on a sailboat, with her hand trailing in the water, watching the sunset. Sam straightened up and started to stagger over.

  “No,” he said. “No. Leave her alone.”

  Daria reached up and grabbed a handful of Evelyn’s hair and viciously pulled. My turn now, Evelyn thought, as Daria held the knife against her neck. The sharp smell of the guard’s blood still on the knife caused her to gag, and she was no longer on a relaxing lake cruise. Her scalp was on fire as Daria continued to pull her head down by her hair. The icy cold blade pressed under her jaw. Sam stopped in his tracks and held his arms out.

  “Don’t,” he pleaded. “What do you want me to do?”

  Daria sneered at him and wrenched Evelyn’s arm up behind her back and began pulling her back to the tower. Evelyn stumbled a little and the blade nicked into her skin.

  “Just come along,” Daria said. “Don’t be trying anything heroic. You saw this knife is very sharp.”

  Sam nodded and slowly followed as Daria dragged Evelyn backward to the tower. He kept a safe distance, his eyes locked on Evelyn, looking for any opportunity to get her free. Evelyn tried not to trip and fall, knowing that would be the accidental end of her. She had to believe that Daria was just having a meltdown at the plan erupting in such a spectacular manner. They’d agreed to be friends in the barn. Surely, surely Daria wouldn’t kill her?

  They made their way around the first guard they passed, still lying in a motionless heap. It seemed an awfully long time to be down from a blow to the head. That’s two, Evelyn thought. And me, three. Probably Sam, too. It was all over. She seriously didn’t want to cry. The knife was already biting painfully into her skin. A whimper escaped her and she felt a tear slide out and run down her cheek. It was almost cheerfully warm against the cold night. She looked at Sam and he shook his head. What was he trying to say? Don’t give up? Stop crying? It didn’t matter.

  At the first tower entrance, Daria stepped aside and told Sam to open the door and go stand at the other side of the room, away from the door that led to the stairs.

  “We’ve no time to go further, this will have to do,” she said. She wrestled Evelyn in after Sam and pulled her down to a sitting position, giving her hair a final, cruel yank before she let go. Still pointing the knife at Evelyn, she hurriedly lit a lantern and took a little cloth bag out of her pocket and dumped the contents of it on the floor. She arranged them in a haphazard way, sweeping the straw aside.

  Sam had been surreptitiously edging his way closer to Evelyn, but after about three feet Daria stood up almost casually, as if she were going to take a little stretch, and was over to Evelyn in an instant. She slashed at Evelyn, cutting straight through the fabric of her dress and into her shoulder. Sam yelled and she whirled on him.

  “Get back to where I told ye to go,” she said. “Or it will be somewhere more vital I cut.” She smiled at Evelyn. “Ye can thank me for it no’ being yer face. Now tell the lad to behave while I prepare.”

  Evelyn gripped her wounded shoulder and looked at Sam. He was shaking with rage, but she just shook her head. “I’m all right,” she said, blowing out through her mouth.

  Looking fearfully down at her shoulder, she saw that it was true. The cut was long but shallow. She pulled at the torn part of her sleeve and put pressure on the neat slice. She didn’t know which was more terrifying, that it could have been much worse and she might have gotten lucky or that Daria was just really practiced at cutting people. The pain was bad, but when Evelyn realized what Daria was doing, her relief outweighed every other feeling. It was what she’d done when she sent Brian to the future, getting the spell ready to send them home. She looked hard at Sam, trying to let him know it was going to be fine.

  “Come along,” Daria said, after finishing arranging the sticks just the way she wanted. She pointed to a spot on the floor. “Sit there, aye? You lad, go stand in the doorway and keep a lookout.”

  Evelyn scooted to the spot in front of the sticks and leaned over to get a better look at the configuration, thinking it might be helpful for when she and Sam got back. If Lachlan and Brian weren’t returned in the blast radius of this spell, maybe she and Piper could recreate it.

  “Oh, God,” Evelyn muttered, sitting up straight. “Are those bones? From people?”

  “Blood and bones, m’dear,” Daria said, sitting across from her. “It does no’ come cheap, what we’re doing.”

  Sam stepped out of the cell, but Daria didn’t seem to care about him now. She was staring at the pile of bones, her eyes glazing over. She held the knife loosely in her lap.

  “Doesn’t he need to be close by?” Evelyn craned her neck, trying to see where Sam had gone. He was no longer in the doorway, or even in the walkway as far as she could tell. Daria ignored her or didn’t hear through her trance.

  “Will he get sent back if he isn’t close?” Evelyn said louder, starting to get up to go after him, too scared of leaving him here to care what Daria might do. Daria’s attention snapped back to Evelyn and she narrowed her eyes and shrugged.

  “It makes no difference as I am the one going,” Daria said. Evelyn sat back down with a thunk, her knees turning to water at this proclamation.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her heart pounding with fear. It hadn’t been this bad when she watched the guard get killed, or when she was clinging to the wall fifty feet above the ground, or when Daria cut her. This was real fear now. Staying here was not an option.

  “I must be with Brian. ‘Twas my first mistake, letting him go alone.”

  “No, you can’t, Daria. You can’t go. You can’t survive there anymore than I can here.”

  Daria raised an eyebrow. “I canno’ stay here. My family will know I killed the guards.”

  “No,” Evelyn shook her head so hard her hair whipped her face. “No, just tell them Sam escaped and killed them, and - and you found them, but Sam ran off. They’ll never find us because we’ll be gone. They’ll believe you.” She grabbed Daria’s arm and tried to catch her breath. “Send us back, bring Brian back, you can get away to France or somewhere and be happy. We can’t live in this time and you can’t live in mine, you have to believe me.”

  Daria disdainfully shook her arm free of Evelyn’s grip. For a moment it looked like she was considering it. Evelyn gathered all her wits about her to keep selling her plan as the best and only one when Sam poked his head back in the cell, harried and out of breath.

  “There’s a light at the end of the walkway. Another guard, I think.” He stepped into the room, shut the door and barred it. “You have to do it now,” he said. Daria swore.

  “It will be me,” she said with grim finality and held her arm over the pile of bones, preparing to cut her arm and bleed on them.

  “No,” Evelyn said and started to cry, great wracking sobs. Sam knelt down beside her and took her by her good shoulder.

  “What?” he demanded. “What the hell?”

  Evelyn put her head down and sobbed. Daria slid the knife along her arm, letting a few drops of her blood spill onto the bones on the floor. She said a few words which sounded like ‘Go to the store, we’re out of dog food’ to Evelyn and ‘Take care of your sister when you’re at the fair’ in Gaelic to Sam. Evelyn stopped crying mid sob, feeling a heavy languor come over her. Sam sat back on his heels and looked from Evelyn to Daria. A t
iny bit of hope sprouted pathetically in Evelyn. Maybe they’d make it home in the blast.

  Evelyn jumped when the door rattled and an immense pounding of fists rained down on it. A guard was yelling on the other side.

  Daria blinked a few times and then raised her knife again, reaching across for Evelyn’s arm. With sick resignation, she held it out. Sam made a move to stop her.

  “I’ll do it,” he said with a glance at the door. He shoved up his sleeve and held out his arm. Daria said something else in a sing songy voice. Evelyn thought she had to have said ‘Those nachos have a lot of fat. Did you see my phone charger?’ and Sam was sure he heard ‘The bridge was down so we went the long way.’

  Daria stared at Sam with unseeing eyes for an unnerving amount of time, the knife poised over his forearm. He looked like he was about to take her hand and make her do it when she snapped out of her hazy state and nodded.

  “I must take it all,” she said. “It must be all of it.” She raised the knife over her head in both her hands and Evelyn realized with horror that Daria meant all of Sam’s blood. Daria hadn’t had anything from the future the first time and overshot by hundreds of years. Now that she had them, she could probably navigate to the precise minute that Brian first appeared in the twenty-first century. Evelyn screamed, and tried to get to the door, thinking their chances had to be better with the guards.

  “Oh, no,” Sam bellowed, still not understanding what Daria was after. “We need to get home and she’s our only chance. I don’t want to get strung up in this hell for murders I didn’t commit, and that’s what’ll happen if those guards get in here.”

  He grabbed Evelyn around the waist before she got to the door and pulled her back. She fell in a heap against the wall and slid to the floor. With no time for even an apologetic glance, he lunged away from Daria, missing the downward swing of her knife.