The Third Fate Page 4

  “Did ye only dream of him the once, lass?” Anna inquired in nonchalance.

  “Nope,” Brooke answered for her cousin.

  “Did ye invite him in?” Anna probed further.

  “I don’t know,” Paige answered. “What would that matter? It was a dream.”

  There was an edge to Paige’s voice. Anna backed off the topic, wanting to avoid sparking questions in her niece’s mind. Questions she was not prepared to answer. Questions that, if answered, would alter her life forever.

  “What smells so good? Do I smell steak?” Paige changed the subject, going to the counter.

  Anna paled. She was defrosting steak in the fridge. It was still in the wrapper.

  After all these years, Agnes, do I finally fail you? Help me know what to do, sister.

  In truth, she’d failed her sister long ago. Anna needed help from beyond the mortal realm. It was time to renew an old acquaintance.

  In the meantime she needed to separate Paige from this mystery man. Or vampire.

  “What my girls need is a getaway. Ye did me proud at the Miller weddin’ lasses, and I mean to show ye! Where do ye want to visit?”

  Brooke choked on her coffee.

  “You, Sissy? You want us to take a vacation?”

  “What’s the fuss, Brooke? Of course I want ye to take a vacation!”

  Brooke shook her head, eying Paige with a disbelieving look as if her mother had gone daft.

  “Whatever you say, Sissy. Who will take care of the Triad?”

  “We’ll figure it out. Don’t be worryin’,” Anna insisted.

  In reality she wondered herself, but getting Paige out of Scotland until ensured that the enchantments would hold erased any hesitation. Anna worried it was already too late for that. More frightening was the prospect that Paige was Awakening, the consequences of which would rip her from them forever, whether through her death at the hands of the Council or her metamorphosis into the undead.

  *

  Cael paced outside of Anna Kinnell’s tenement building, anxious for Paige to re-emerge. Tension arced through him.

  The house was cloaked.

  Mists of Druid enchantment hung in the air, imperceptible to most. He had lived long upon the earth; Druid spell-casting was child’s play to an ancient. The Druids themselves had learned their magic from the Netherworld, part of which was vampire. Someone had gone to great lengths to hide this home and all in it, the spells used no trifling black-magic practiced by amateurs. These were intricate, imbedded layers of deceit. Doubtless, it involved Paige. Finding the motivating reason behind it was key to unlocking her significance to him. Cael grew troubled.

  Who would want or need to hide her? And why was Druid magic involved? Those questions sparked another string of riddles, each pointing to one of two options. Either Paige was being hidden for her own protection, or her true identity, whatever that may be, was being kept from her.

  Paige stepped out the door pulling his attention to the present, and he trailed behind at a distance. Without knowing for sure what was going on, Cael determined to guard her closely. In the short time they’d been apart the enchantments had been reinforced. Her mind was clouded with Druid magic, and he expected to find Paige unaware of its presence. He would talk with her about her family to gauge her reaction. Despite his unease over having bonded himself to her by blood, there were advantages. She could not knowingly lie to him, nor he to her, but as an ancient he could silence the path between them, closing himself off if needful. Age such as his entailed certain benefits.

  Dampness pervaded the atmosphere, another downpour threatening before Paige made it home, and Cael considered taking her there by his preferred method of travel, instantaneous arrival. Doing so would require further deception, and that he was unwilling to do unless her life was threatened. Instead he followed, unsure at his need to be physically near when he could protect her just as easily from afar. Seeing her safely inside her flat, watching with satisfied happiness as she smiled and lifted the small bouquet from the door knocker, Cael strengthened his own protective enchantments and vanished.

  *

  Paige allowed the wide smile to overtake her. Fingering the blossoms’ silken petals she lifted the bundle, skimming its satin softness against her cheek before unlocking her door and slipping inside her flat.

  Admiring the bouquet, dropping her bags absently in the entryway, Paige drifted dreamily to her tiny kitchen to pull out a vase. She plucked the tiny note-card from where it nestled amongst the blooms and quickly read, sinking into a chair at the small breakfast table in surprised pleasure. Returning to the beginning, she devoured the message anew.

  Feminine grace of Queen Anne’s Lace and Begonia’s deep thoughts show true, while innocent Daisy wars both alongside and against bold Delphinium. These reminded me of you, Lass – C. M.

  Cael Maccinnis proved again to be a most interesting man. Humming, Paige carried the small but overflowing vase to admire from her bath.

  Chapter Four

  Gathering into solid form in his coven’s safe house, Cael recognized the need to tread carefully. Kaiden of Clan Douglas presided as coven leader at Fife House, and he and Cael had never seen eye to eye. Kaiden resented that his position came to him by default when Cael had refused the leadership role that was rightfully his.

  Cael Maccinnis hated the corruption of the powerful in the vampire world. The Council set down rulings only for dishonest, manipulative under-leaders to twist and connive until their implementation differed so greatly from the Council’s original intent that the Council was, in his mind, irrelevant. If they would clean house, removing the greedy and thieving as was their right – their duty – Cael could reconsider his position. But not until. Kaiden was one of the first needing removal, and Cael had thought many years ago that by taking his rightful place as a leader he would affect change within his own coven. Harsh reality erased all thought of practicing justice in a leadership role. Kaiden and the woman he thought was to be his life-mate accused him of acting unjustly, appealing to the Council after Cael had reported Kaiden for mistreating a human. Cael had come upon Kaiden, who had bitten out the throat of a human male and left him to die, and had beaten him unquestioningly in battle. The night replayed in his memory.

  Lashing wind assailed him as thunder pealed in the sky, not weather one preferred to be out hunting in. But thirst had won out. Gwendolyn had turned him away, his anger and hurt at her rejection strengthening his resolve to feed from a human, thereby removing his need to go to her again. He was no trinket to be toyed with. His affection was true, and he deserved a woman who felt the same. What he had was a coquette, teasing and tempting only to pull back when he did not do as she wished. She refused him her company – and her blood - since learning that he had no intention of seeking a seat on the Council. Leading his coven from Fife House was where he belonged. He would not alter his decision, nor she hers, effectively ending their relationship. Cael’s hurt stemmed more from learning he meant nothing more to Gwendolyn than status and position rather than from the actual loss of her.

  Strong, pungent blood-scent pervaded the air, telling of nearby carnage, and Cael abandoned his ruminations to discover what was going on and offer aid if necessary. Following the heady aroma, he found himself face to face with a nightmare. Kaiden Douglas flung the corpse, a young man moments before enjoying the prime of life, to the ground, having torn his throat open in greedy thirst. Beside him, Gwendolyn acquiesced without protest as Kaiden roughly grabbed her, backing her against the stony outcrop and readying to take her.

  “What in the bluidy hell do ye think to be doin’ to her, Kaiden of Clan Douglas? Is it no’ enough that ye killed that man fer no reason? Ye now think to take what’s no’ yers?”

  Kaiden laughed sardonically.

  “Not mine to take?” he sneered. “You’re a fool, Cael of Clan Maccinnis. I’ve tasted her before this night.”

  Cael staggered back as if he’d been physically shoved, reeling at t
he discovery of Gwendolyn’s treachery. Her laughter seared his heart.

  “Don’t look so like a naïve schoolboy, Cael,” she purred. “Did you not once think it odd that I never drank from you? I pay you a compliment. It has been no trial enduring your attentions. But now that you’ve passed up the opportunity to actually be someone, Cael, I’ve decided that my fortunes lie elsewhere.”

  Incredulity on his face could not be removed, his pride wounded, his trust shattered.

  “Ye do yerself no favor, Gwendolyn. Ye have made yer bed. Now I’ll be leavin’ ye to lie in it.”

  He turned his attention to Kaiden, who stood, hand wrapped around Gwendolyn, clasping her breast as if he clutched a prize, eyes alight with the gleam of victory.

  “Ye will have to answer to the Council fer this man’s life, Kaiden of Clan Douglas.”

  “Who is going to tell them?” Kaiden called his marker.

  “I be the man,” Cael stated flatly.

  At his answer Kaiden flew into him, fangs bared, but Cael was ready, deflecting his blows and stopping him cold, the fight ensuing short but definitive. Cael was an ancient, his power far greater than the younger, lesser vampire could handle. Summoning power from the air around him Cael forced a pulse of white hot energy at the vamp, ending the confrontation before he killed the younger vampire. Cael came to stand over him, the heel of his leather boot firmly pressed into Kaiden’s jaw.

  “Ye canna prevail, and I’ve no wish to kill ye. Settle with the Council and live long enough to gain some sense.”

  Kaiden’s testimony alone would have had no effect, but with Gwendolyn beside him swearing to his version of events, the Council had listened. They accused Cael of instigating the fight, causing the human’s injuries to be inflicted when he tore Kaiden from him in the middle of feeding. With the testimony of two against him the Council had censured him harshly, ruling him unfit for leadership a span of five years. Once the five years had passed, Cael flatly refused to resume his post, telling the Council he wanted no part in their injustices, that he held them responsible for Kaiden’s lies. Their psychic connection allowed them to see untruths and half-truths, yet they had still ruled in favor of Kaiden, claiming the incident too convoluted to be seen clearly. After Cael’s refusal Kaiden had been offered the position, which he gladly accepted. By that time Gwendolyn had moved on to bigger and better things. He hadn’t seen her since her damning testimony.

  Cael headed for the library, anxious to delve into texts on Druid magic, needing to refresh his memory to discern from which of the Houses the magic surrounding Paige stemmed. The pattern was a mixture of old and new, some of the imbedded charms hiding her true nature reminiscent of a cloaking formula used long before the Romans gained power in the Isles.

  “I canna believe my eyes!” Alden, one of the few Cael counted a friend, boomed. “What brings ye to Fife House this night?”

  Falling in step with Cael the vampire cheerily slapped him on the back.

  “I doona wish my presence announced to all in the house, Alden,” Cael spoke quietly, his friend shaking his head in understanding.

  “Aye, Maccinnis. Ye want to avoid the Douglas. I know well. Why are ye here tonight? It’s unlike ye to venture in when Kaiden’s here.”

  “Druid magic. I’ve run into an enchantment that puzzles me, Alden.”

  The two exchanged hushed whispers, Cael explaining that he believed the enchantment to be a derivative of a charm used by the Fates themselves.

  “Be careful, Maccinnis,” Alden warned. “Just earlier Rowan informed me that Kaiden was summoned to a Council meeting. It seems the Council is nervous about a ripple in the psychic link shared by all vampires. Yer an ancient. Did ye feel it?”

  Cael at once intuited it must have been the moment he and Paige had become connected, thankful he had trusted his gut and cloaked her so well. But why would his link with a mate – mortal or otherwise – be felt in the common psychic pool of vampire connection. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Vaguely. But that’s fer them to worry on. This matter is verra, verra important to me, Alden. Can I count on ye to keep silent about it?”

  “Doona ye know the answer to that question, Maccinnis?”

  “I do,” Cael sighed, sorry to have hurt his friend by asking.

  “Then doona shame me by askin’.”

  “Forgive me, friend,” Cael offered, his friend’s smile the acceptance of his apology he hoped to find.

  “I hold no grudge against ye, Cael,” Alden confessed. “We’ve been through too much for that foolery.”

  A true friend was more rare than gold, and he counted Alden as his oldest and dearest. Leading the way to the library, Cael explained as much as he dared without exposing Paige. He knew Alden would never tell a soul, living or otherwise, but he lacked ability to cloak his friend’s knowledge from another ancient if he were to be questioned.

  Opening the dusty tome on Druid spell-casting, Cael probed Paige’s mind, seeing her still safely tucked away in her little apartment before delving into his research. Changing the incantations surrounding her ever so slightly ensured no one could get near her without first alerting him. Confident that he could devote full attention to study he brushed her mind with his presence, gladdened at her response yet simultaneously worried by it.

  Come to me.

  He wanted to do nothing more. First he needed answers.

  Rest now, lass. I will come to ye.

  Sensing her return to deep sleep, Cael began to read.

  *

  Days bled one into the next as Cael discovered the woman he now believed to be his future. Amazement filled him at her deep psychic connection to the realm of the undead, re-enforcing his belief that Paige was more than mortal. Not an evening passed without his sharing her company, and he had learned much.

  Underneath her awkward and shy exterior existed a woman of superior intelligence, great humor, and generous heart. Paige threw herself into her work with zeal, maintaining a positive attitude despite the devastating events she’d lived through. A small tendril of guilt wound its way round his heart, for he was also digging for clues to her past. He wanted to be honest with her but needed to discern what he was dealing with before turning her world inside out.

  Walking the streets of the West End and chatting, Cael probed for more details of her childhood. Being near her remained a constant battle. Separation was unthinkable, yet his desire for her blood, her body, threatened to over-run his self-control constantly. Fighting the instinct to simply steer her onto a dark side street and take what he wanted, Cael reached for her hand and continued strolling.

  “Do you want to go inside any of the shops?” she asked, looking up at him.

  His gut tightened every time he looked into her eyes.

  “The walkin’ is good if that suits ye,” he answered easily.

  When a smile broke over her face, hidden as it was in the night, his heart beat faster.

  “Truth is, Cael, I don’t really like clubs and parties much. I’d rather be somewhere quiet.” She sighed, still walking beside him, hand held fast with his. “I’m sure a guy like you has a lot more interesting people to hang out with,” she laughed at herself then, surprising him with her ease at the topic. “My cousins tell me how boring I am, how I should live it up a little. I guess what I’m trying to say, Cael, is that I like life simple. If you’re looking for someone who loves the night life or lots of excitement, I’m the last woman in Scotland you should be with.”

  It was his turn to laugh.

  “I like things simple too, Paige.”

  He stopped, pulling her in front of him. Her eyes lowered, conveying her shyness.

  “Look at me, lass,” Cael rasped.

  A moment passed. Slowly she raised her gaze, meeting his, the uncertainty and questions plain in her eyes. He bent, his lips meeting and moving over hers in gentle exploration. Soft and pliant in his arms, Paige’s sweetness had Cael battling his hunger. He broke their kiss and hugged her to h
imself, willing his desire be patient, for she knew naught of his kind, his world.

  Looping around, they headed back toward her apartment, the damp night sending her snuggling into her coat against the chill. Noticing, he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side, encouraging her nearness.

  “Is it yer aunt and cousins that ye have for family then? No others?”

  He tried to sound nonchalant without causing her any pain.

  “That’s it,” she said. “I’ve no one else. What about you?”

  “It’s a long time I’ve been alone. I’ve no family to speak of.”

  “That’s awful!” Paige shuddered. “I’ve always feared being alone,” she confessed.

  After a moment’s pause Cael answered, touched that she freely shared something so personal. It further proved that she was honest and open, that the Druid magic was another’s doing.

  “Ye willna end up alone, Paige Kinnell. Trust me.”

  Cael was going to make certain of that.

  *

  Malcolm of Clan Gaunson paced the limestone floor, oblivious to its beauty. Preoccupation with last night’s event crowded all else from his mind. The Council would hold a meeting in less than an hour on the subject, and he had to have his thoughts and memories locked away, hidden, with no trace that he had done so before then. He needed special security. But what price would he pay for it?

  Pilar Michaels was on her way at his request. Malcolm walked a precarious line, he knew, in inviting the Druid priestess. A strange energy, tense and dark, sparked within him when she was near. After their last encounter he swore never again to summon her, but this could not be helped. Last night’s disturbance, the ripple felt by every member of their Council, had come from a powerful source. He believed it was his daughter.

  His daughter…

  A daughter he believed to be dead. A daughter born of a mortal woman.

  It was not possible, was it? That after twenty-seven years he would discover the babe had lived? His precious Agnes, lost in birthing his child. He had never forgiven himself. By his hand she had died, more or less, for it was carrying his seed that ultimately robbed her of life. Such a foolish choice, yet one he could not entirely regret.