The Third Fate Page 2

  Oh bother! How can I explain this?

  “I must have been dreaming or something. Sorry, but there’s really nothing to tell, girls.”

  “Paige, honey… if those are your dreams, I need to know what you were drinking before you went to sleep!”

  Brooke laughed again, relating the conversation to Lara, who guffawed in the background. Paige smiled, her first of the morning. They made her crazy, but she couldn’t imagine life without them. The ‘Terrible Trio’, that’s what Sissy had named them in their elementary years. A strong bond glued them to one another; Sissy had seen to that.

  All ye really ha’ is each other. Never forget that, lassies. Never. Let no soul ever come between ye.

  “All right, you two. I’ve got to get ready for work. Call me later. Maybe I’ll get out of there on time for once.”

  “You should come out with us tonight,” Brooke invited. “We’re going to Jinty McGinty’s…It’ll be fun.”

  “I don’t know,” Paige hesitated. “You know I don’t drink much, and sitting around while everyone else does is not all that fun.”

  “Oh, come on! It’s been an age since you let your hair down. All work and no play make Paige a dull girl. You’re too timid, Paige. How are you ever going to land a man if you…” Someone or something interrupted Brooke’s sage-like lecture, saving Paige the trouble of begging off the line. “Sorry, Paige! Gotta run! I’ll call you at seven sharp. And for the love of Henry wear something more risque than a turtleneck.”

  The line went dead, and Paige heaved a sigh of relief, muttering as she readied for work.

  “What’s the matter with my turtleneck sweaters anyway?”

  Chapter Two

  Cael fingered the Celtic cross taken from around the female’s neck, a link to her in the days of separation since he’d indulged. Her blood song enchanted him even now in the safety of Fife Manor, his coven’s safe house, and he hardened painfully in recollection of the potent elixir that coursed through her veins. Cursing, he raked his hands through his dark, wavy hair, mustering every ounce of self-control he possessed to stop himself from going to her. It was against everything he knew to desire a mortal this way. Yet her blood told another tale, a tale of the undead, of Druid lines.

  Go to her. Drink and fuck…

  Back and forth he paced like a caged animal, hanging onto his sanity by a thread. He needed help. Conjuring the image of Raven House, Cael faded until nothing remained but the faint hint of shadow where he had just stood. Then even that was gone. The wood plank floor creaked as Cael solidified in shape at his destination. He hoped to discover The Raven willing to accommodate him. Many years had passed since he last partook of her services. He’d been desperate then, too.

  Overwhelmed with grief and burning with blood lust, Cael had been deposited by his worried coven mates in this reception room after Rose MacAllister had been taken from his bed and left to burn in the dawn. He never discovered whose hand had been responsible. Fevered with thirst, thirst he had denied rather than betray the memory of young, carefree Rose and his failure to protect her, Cael had writhed on the floor – the very same where he now stood willingly - then helpless to refuse the attentions paid to him in Raven’s care. He hoped she would have the cure for him now as she had then.

  “You have need, Cael Maccinnis?” the sultry voice purred.

  The curtains parted revealing Raven, her sensuous beauty unchanged over time.

  “I do,” he ground through clenched teeth.

  “And you wish to find relief from your torments within the walls of Raven House?”

  Her sexy tone left nothing to the imagination. Cael remained silent before her.

  “Have you had another incident? That would be a shame. I cannot imagine why else an ancient would have need of the soothing I offer. If you needed to feed only, well, the human chattel would suffice.”

  Her smile never touched her eyes. She was bargaining, he realized.

  Or fishing…

  “What is it you ask of me?”

  Circling, Raven drank in his scent, her laugh soft and throaty.

  “Her scent is strong on you, Maccinnis. No scent of death surrounds you this visit. Has she refused you?”

  Cael offered no answer, which The Raven took as affirmation of her suspicions.

  “Ah, I see,” she whispered. “Rest easy, Highlander. Your desire shall soon be slaked. First, there is the question of payment – but,” her feline purr admitted, “you were such a pleasure to ease before, Cael Maccinnis, that I ask only a trifle, really. I desire the company of your coven-mate, Alden, for one night. It is not too much to ask, is it?” Running her hand over the bulge in his pants, Raven cooed, “You know I cannot take but what is offered freely, Maccinnis. Open yourself to me.”

  “Raven,” his voice stilled her hand, “I will accompany Alden here, but I make no promise that he will welcome your attentions.”

  “It is enough, Highlander,” she allowed. “He will not refuse my offering.”

  Betraying every instinct he possessed Cael opened his thoughts to the she-vamp. He had to put an end to his lust for the mortal. Otherwise, he would bond himself to the human woman before Samhain. Wiping his mind blank, Cael focused only on the relief he would gain mentally and physically under Raven’s expert hands. Stroking him as her fangs scraped across his neck, Raven encouraged his lust.

  Unbidden, images of the beautiful mortal flooded his consciousness. He raged with lust, eyes reddening once again, the memory of her taste awakening the beast within him. Raven hissed, shrinking away from him as if burned.

  “What is this?” she shrieked. “You lie, Highlander! The female has not refused you; your mind cries out to her even now!” Backing away from him she continued, “I can do nothing for you, Cael Maccinnis. Your desire is unwilling, bound to another. Another who yet walks among the living…”

  “I did not bond her!” he rasped in denial, immediately closing himself off from the psychic link all vampires shared.

  As an ancient he could do this, but it was difficult to accomplish without alerting other vampires. They grew suspicious of anyone choosing to close the link between them.

  “Your thoughts claim otherwise,” she laughed in a knowing way. “Seek your ease with the mysterious human consuming your thoughts and be at peace.”

  Raven faded, turning to mist before his eyes, ending the matter. Cael was on his own.

  *

  Anna Kinnell, Sissy to her girls, sat across the kitchen table from her niece, a worried look creeping over her features.

  “Did ye sleep well last night? Ye look tired, lass.”

  Rising from the cushioned chair she reached for a mug from the top shelf.

  “Here, let me get that, Sissy,” Paige offered. “Where’s your stool?”

  “Stool!” Sissy snorted. “It’s a wee lass that needs a stool. I’m no helpless girl, mind ye. I’ve lived longer ‘an ye – and get on just fine, too.”

  “I’m just trying to help,” Paige laughed. “Independence is fine, Sissy, but letting someone help you once in awhile is good, too.”

  “I’ll not be a pamperin’ myself like some old natty!” Sissy huffed, pouring a steaming cup of tea and setting it before Paige on the worn, gold-flecked Formica table top. “Now let’s hear why ye be sportin’ those dark circles under yer jade eyes.”

  “Stop worrying over me. I had long days at work this week, and when I finally collapsed at night these crazy dreams kept me from resting proper. I’ll be right as rain once I catch a cat nap or two.”

  The tea warmed Paige’s insides deliciously, and she popped a mini scone into her mouth before donning her wrap and heading for the door.

  “Don’t ye be workin’ too hard. Life is fer livin’, lass!”

  “I’m living! Brooke and Lara are taking me out later on. That is if I can stay awake,” Paige teased. “Okay, Sissy. See you tomorrow.”

  She blew a kiss in Sissy’s direction.

  Her aunt called afte
r her, “Be careful, Paige!”

  But the door had already slammed shut. Anna rested her back against the chair. Every year at this time she grew extra nervous for her niece. Her sister’s only child had become hers, and she’d promised to protect her. In softest voice of poetry, Anna’s lips mouthed the incantation re-enforcing the Druid magic that masked her niece’s true nature.

  Alone in her home, Anna’s thoughts wandered to years gone by, years she’d tried in vain to forget. Images of her beautiful twin, Agnes, filtered through the boarded-up windows of her mind’s eye, flooding her with emotion.

  Oh, Agnes. Why did ye have to fall in love like that?

  It was pointless to re-hash; her sister had fallen in love - with a vampire. Anna was beyond arguing the impossibility of creatures of the night. She’d seen plenty to convince her. Agnes fell easily, powerless to resist once the undead demon had brainwashed her. Oh, Agnes had claimed she was in love, that her love was willing and uncoerced, but Anna refused to believe it. And then the unthinkable happened.

  Shoving unwanted memories aside Anna locked them once again away, safely hiding them in the vault of her mind. It was dangerous to ruminate on such things. Vampires were powerful beings, psychically linked to one another and to sensitive humans that carried any of the old, strong blood of the Highlands. If they ever discovered her sister’s deception – or her own involvement – her niece, Paige, would pay with her life.

  *

  Mirrors lined the walls of the club’s powder room creating a dizzying infinity effect as the trio checked their reflections. Paige smoothed her fingers over the silky blond waves of hair that spilled over her shoulders, taming any strays, and applied lip balm.

  “Try some lipstick,” Lara encouraged, offering her the tube. “It’ll spice up your look!”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” Paige countered, smacking her lips. “I’ll stick to my balm. Besides, I’m not a fan of a dark eye and a dark lip together.”

  Applying makeup was not one of Paige’s greatest talents, but with her eyes it didn’t really matter – or so her cousins assured. With her wavy, yellow-blond hair and fair complexion, her slightly darker brows and lashes stood out starkly against pale-green eyes. A little shadow and mascara emphasized them enough that, at times, people stared a moment before complimenting her. Paige had never considered herself beautiful, and aside from her attention drawing eyes she rarely thought about it.

  Paige was not a stand out sort of girl. Brooke and Lara fit that bill. Boisterous and fun-loving, her cousins shared their laughter and antics with many friends, whether at work or play. They had taken over their mother’s flower arranging business a few years ago, allowing Sissy to scale back her hours to part-time and enjoy life a little more. Meeting people, making contacts, winning contracts - that was part of their business, and Brooke and Lara embraced it with a verve and style that charmed all they encountered, slowly growing Triad into one of the premier flower shops in Glasgow. Paige often helped out on the weekends. Arranging flowers was relaxing and solitary. That suited her, being the most quiet and reflective of the three.

  Form fitting denim hugged Paige’s slender hips, the straight leg cut and chocolate hued heels enhancing her long, shapely legs. Paired with a thin, winter-white sweater and short waisted blazer, the look was casual and sexy. Silver earrings dangled from her lobes, and her mother’s spoon ring adorned her right hand.

  “Come on! There’ll be no tables left if you two keep dallying.”

  “Okay, Okay!” Brooke giggled, yanking Lara from in front of the mirror and charging toward the door. “Let’s find you a fling! After that dream you described having the other night, I’d say you need to get a real man in your bed!”

  “Brooke, don’t,” Paige pleaded. “I’ll date when I meet the right person. I’m not a fling having person. It’d just be too weird, besides. I have to know someone before I can …I just can’t jump in the sack with anyone.”

  Bubbling laughter gushed from her cousin. “You’re such a prude! No wonder Sissy is always fussing at you. I’m not telling you to hump everyone west of Charing Cross, Paige! I’m telling you to let go. Stop analyzing every moment and let each day take you where it will. If you meet a great guy who likes all your boring bookish stuff, then take him home and have your way with him! You won’t melt. Trust me.”

  “Brooke’s right, Paige,” Lara agreed. “It’s time for you to get back in the world of dating. Two years have passed. Jake’s gone, but you’re still here. He’d want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” Paige sighed. “You two just don’t believe me. I’ll meet a great guy when I’m supposed to. Now let’s not spoil tonight dredging up sad memories. I’m over it. Really.”

  Paige turned and ordered a sparkling water, waiting for the sting in her eyes to ease. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was think about Jake. His unexpected and senseless death had crippled her two years ago – almost to the day. Her birthday – he had died on her birthday.

  Just like my mother.

  She hadn’t found out until a few weeks afterward. Jake had been another casualty of Iraq, not a military serviceman, a civilian volunteering to help the fledgling country get on its feet. He never made it back. To this day, she hated her birthday.

  Shaking sorrow from her mind, Paige decided that maybe she should take Lara and Brooke’s advice. She scanned the crowd, the sea of faces blurring together in endless revelry. A heavy sigh escaped her, and suddenly she felt bone-weary.

  I don’t belong here.

  Since childhood the sense that she was different, not in outward appearances but inside, a puzzle piece in the wrong box, persisted in Paige’s heart. Strobe lights flashed, bodies bounced in time with the drumming beat, laughter and conversation drifted in the air, but she felt disconnected from it all. Different. Other.

  Tonight her agitation was more pronounced. Strains from at least five separate conversations rang in her ears and music layered on top of that along with overpowering smells. Her stomach roiled, overloaded with sight, sound, movement. It was as if she saw everyone and everything at once. Panic flooded her mind.

  What in all of Hades is going on with me?

  She had to get out of the place! Fixing her eyes on the exit Paige wove her way through the crowd, the press of bodies seeming to close in on her from all sides. Not a moment too soon she burst through the door, squeezing her eyes tight and breathing the cool night air greedily. Large gatherings had always been uncomfortable, but never before had she reacted so strongly. Hurrying around the corner, hoping no one had seen her crazy dash for the exit, Paige backed against the white-washed exterior, putting her head between her knees and breathing deeply. The pounding of her heart slowed, and the chilled autumn night cooled her skin.

  “Are you all right?”

  The deep voice startled her.

  Okay. You hear all the conversations going on around yourself but can’t hear this guy walk right up to you? That’s just great, Paige.

  “I am. Thanks.” She smiled sheepishly in the direction of the stranger, unable to discern his appearance in the shadows. “I probably got a little overheated. That’s all.”

  She thought he would approach her, but suddenly he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

  “There you are!” Brooke yelled, flitting over to her. “We didn’t know where you’d gone off to. What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!”

  Lara stood a few meters behind Brooke, ready to jump back inside where it was warm.

  “I’m not feeling so well, guys. I think I’m going to head home.”

  “Are you sure, Paige?” Lara walked over, forgetting about the cold. “We can go with you if you’re feeling poorly.”

  “No, no. I’m not as bad as all that. Stay and have a good time. I think I just need to get some rest.” She grinned at the pair of them, long faced at her leaving. “I didn’t sleep so well the last several nights, remember?”

  “Right then!” Lara cheered up, wink
ing teasingly. “Ring me up in the morning.”

  “Love and such,” Brooke said flippantly, kissing her cheeks. “And don’t forget about brunch. We’ve got all the fresh flowers coming in right after, and we’ll have to have everything arranged for the Miller wedding at two o’clock.”

  Thankfully her flat was close by. Paige didn’t have the energy to go much further. The black panel-box door awaited her patiently, a beacon for her tired eyes as she marched up the front stairs and turned her key in the lock. Lemon infused air greeted her nostrils, the furniture polish’s potent aroma hanging thick in her little flat, and the simple welcome had the corners of her mouth curving in contentment.

  Home.

  A luxurious, scalding soak, cotton sleep wear, and hot toddy – in that order – were just the remedies her inner doctor ordered. Then she would sink into her comfortable bed and sleep until she woke on her own. Tomorrow was Saturday. After enjoying a lively brunch with Sissy and her cousins and once she was satisfied with the Millers’ reception table arrangements, Paige planned to head over to the library to indulge in her favorite pastime, reading on Druidism and magic. Currently working through a volume dealing with the legend and lore of the Druid religion, she hoped the text would be available. Having been born on Samhain and with the holiday upcoming, Paige had delved into the mysteries of the ancient religion with relish, losing hours in blissful perusal of the documented accounts of Druid ritual and practice.

  Familiar creaks from the stairs accompanied her ascent to the bath, the day’s exhaustion forgotten within the comfort of home. Piling her hair atop her head she sank into the warmth of the filling tub and sighed in her joy. The stereo emitted soft white-noise, the news announcer’s monotone recitation of world events relieving the too quiet of the house.

  Darkness claimed the last remnants of rose and purple in the western sky, dropping its curtain on the final act of day. Paige smiled, wondering if her cousins were having success in finding their ‘Mr. Rights’ tonight, hopeful for them. That just wasn’t her style. It had taken her twenty-two years to find Jake – or more so, he found her. The thought of another man finding her as wonderful as Jake had seemed improbable. Jake had accepted her for who she was. And he’d not once complained about turtleneck sweaters. At twenty-seven, she wondered if she’d remain alone forever.