The Third Fate Read online

  “I think so,” she said shakily. “I had a stitch in my side, but it’s going away now.”

  Ms. Ross came near.

  “Are you certain you’ll be able to complete the collection’s distribution? I can ask someone to handle it for you.”

  “Of course. Really, I’m fine now,” Paige smiled faintly.

  After a few more minutes of assuring, Barbara Ross reluctantly allowed her to remain at work, but insisted she go home at once if she continued to feel ill.

  Sitting at her desk to double check each title selected for the collection, Paige gathered the paperwork necessary and watched as each title moved to the checked-out column. She wanted Diana and Ruth to finish quickly, for she was deteriorating by the minute. A sheen of perspiration formed on her skin, her teeth chattering intermittently. One minute heat rolled from her, setting her cheeks aflame. The next she wrapped in her coat. All she wanted was to head home and collapse in her bed, but she had to finish. This was the first time Barbara Ross had entrusted her with a project so large – and not supervised her every step of the way. She wanted to prove that she was ready and capable of handling the responsibility. No excuses. No mix-ups.

  It’s the Awakening, lass. Ye shouldna be alone. Ye need me.

  Paige pushed the thought away. Ignoring it, she pressed through the day, determined to beat whatever bug she’d picked up. When seven o’clock rolled around, her delight at being free to go waned as she thought of getting herself home. Before attempting that feat she had to approach Barbara about taking time off. She had plenty of vacation time saved up; that wasn’t the problem. Lately her boss had been giving her more responsibility within the library, and she didn’t want to jeopardize the obvious trust building between them, but she had to get away.

  A blue-eyed Highlander demanded it.

  Hard as she tried to prevent it, her thoughts turned to him. Her mind reached for his, needing, hungry. The remembrance of his blood on her tongue sent desire spiraling before nausea supplanted all else. Quickly, she filled out the vacation time form. Placing it on Barbara Ross’ desk, Paige hurried away.

  She’d done it.

  There was no turning back. She’d set her course for better or worse. If she remained in the city, she’d be in the arms of Cael Maccinnis again.

  Chapter Seven

  Anna Kinnell prayed for guidance. Paige was changing, and she could do nothing to prevent it. Anna had bargained after the child’s birth, blindly surrendering Paige’s first Fate, desperate that her niece never live as one of the undead. Perhaps she’d been tricked. The Fates were notoriously fickle; their childlike reasoning eradicated all chance of mere mortals imagining the ways they might renege on their word.

  Debating which path to follow, Anna had booked the vacation to separate Paige from Cael Maccinnis. Anna suspected meeting him had started Paige’s Awakening. Anna knew better; it was his bite, and once bitten Paige would in turn crave blood. She would be lost to them. Paige’s mother wouldn’t have seen it this way, but Anna did. A vampire’s bite had taken her sister, now it was laying claim over her niece. Anna determined to prevent Paige’s turning into the undead. Like her father. Therein lie the problem. Malcolm, an ancient, may have influence among the Fates - and that influence could save Paige. Anna pondered whether Malcolm would help her, or if, like other vampires he would see Paige as a threat.

  Knowledge of magic exhausted, Anna had only two options before her. Risk facing the Fates again in the hopes of their intervention, hoping a worse fate wouldn’t befall her niece, or seek Paige’s father and beg his mercy. Neither appealed to her, and time grew short.

  *

  Cael cursed the light. Two full hours remained before he could return to her.

  I never should have left her.

  The coven house offered protection during the day, and Cael needed a place to lay low until night fell. The dream had come again, a premonition of Paige’s death. How or why her future played in his mind, he could not explain. But he had to reach her. She would die if he failed, and a part of him would die with her.

  Cael cursed himself as well. Why he had given her a say in the matter was beyond him. He knew best, yet foolishly accommodated her wishes for fear of overwhelming her. The cost of his folly could be her life. Memories of Rose McAllister’s untimely death came back with clarity. Absorbed with her, her parties, her festive nature, he never saw the warning signs that danger loomed. They’d celebrated excessively in the night, too much so, for he never heard her leave their bed. In those days Cael thought little of responsibility. The next good time to be had monopolized his interest. Rose was a young vampire enjoying a tryst with an ancient like himself, living it up while it lasted. Neither of them felt the bond, but they enjoyed one another’s company.

  And the drinking…and the sex…

  Rose, for being one of the undead, exuded life, reveling in each moment with delight and attention to the smallest pleasure. Her love for living re-ignited a spark long missing from Cael’s existence. He’d never forgiven himself for failing her. She died that morning, left to burn in the sun - alone. He always suspected they had become too prominent within young vampire circles, too popular. The simplest way to ensure that Cael stayed where he was supposed to, in the shadows until he came around to the other ancients’ way of thinking, had been to remove the thing inspiring him. Rose.

  He’d loved no other since, had trusted no one implicitly. To think differently from the Council, to discredit their hierarchy as antiquated and feudal in application, to dare to speak out against them was to invite tragedy. Those in power want to remain in power. Natural born vampires wanted to maintain their position of status within the vampire community. To ensure that, they promulgated the myth of their superiority over changed vampires. They also had to guarantee that no half-born survived.

  Sick dread filled Cael’s gut at the thought. Once again the Fates had entrusted him with the life of another, and once again he allowed his instinct to be overruled. It would not happen again. If his hesitation to act caused Paige’s death, he would seek the sun, life without her unthinkable. Paige was half-born, and therefore in danger. Analyzing the visions of his sleep, Cael prepared to prevent Paige’s death.

  As the hours played out Cael relived each moment of the dream, trying to capture the details in his memory. The events of the tragedy surrounded travel, the hazy image of an airplane flickering in his mind’s eye. Whether the airplane was the means to her end not revealed to him. Armed with this information he decided to take Paige to the Highlands using magic, highly irregular and fairly dangerous with one not fully changed, but a risk worth chancing.

  Introspection continued until the sun sank low enough that he dared risk exposure. Hiding all evidence of research on half-born vampires and Druid magic, Cael readied to go to Paige. Tonight he would abide no refusals; Paige was coming with him.

  *

  The sharp rap on the front door startled her even though she’d been expecting, preparing for it all day. Summoning her resolve, Paige breathed deeply. She was not going downstairs, would not answer the door, could not allow herself to fall into his arms.

  Cowardice filled her along with guilt. Ignoring him was cruel, but if she laid eyes on him, if he touched her, even once, her resoluteness would dissolve. Cael held a frightening power over her, and after the insanity last night Paige needed time alone. She doubted her lucidity at this point, and staying away from him seemed the wisest option. Burying her head under the covers, Paige tried to drown out the pained confusion in his thoughts.

  Lass, what are ye doin’? Let me come to ye…

  She didn’t respond. Hard as it was, she knew it was for the best. Cael would get over her. He was smart, kind, gorgeous.

  He was a vampire.

  He could have any woman he wanted.

  I doona want any woman, Paige. It’s ye I want.

  Tears filled her eyes. Spilling them onto the pillow in pitiful abandon, Paige cried the tears she’d kept hulled
inside for years. Tears for the mother she never knew. Tears for the father she was denied. Tears for Jake, who had been such a wonderful person. And now tears for Cael Maccinnis. She loved him already, and that’s why she had to let him go. The thought of bearing another loss frightened her as much as vampires, or this supposed Awakening.

  Maybe it was the strong emotions roiling inside her, maybe what Cael described as her Awakening, but pain seized her anew, and she was helpless beneath its cruelty. Everything faded to black as she huddled further and further inside herself, locking out the insidious pain. No longer did she cry. No more did Cael’s entreaties to let him in bombard her mind. Only the pain. In turns through the night she writhed in agony and battled the severe nausea, falling into the sleep of exhaustion during each reprieve. When morning’s light wakened her, Paige sat up, head aching slightly but feeling much better. No Cael in her thoughts, no pain. Tentatively, she stepped out of bed, testing the truth of what she believed to be so, and when her legs supported her ably she shuffled to the shower.

  Questions looped endlessly in her thoughts. What was making her ill? Did she dare believe what Cael had told her about being a half-born vampire? She’d seen with her own eyes, truth overwhelming her to the point of existing in a state of denial. Was illness producing these strange dreams and hallucinations? Either way, she couldn’t flee Glasgow fast enough for comfort. Later this night she’d be sitting safely with her aunt and cousins, getting far away from this nightmare. Fear prickled, whispering that she wouldn’t be able to outrun it.

  Checking her phone after a long, hot shower, Paige read the message from her boss, Barbara, relieved beyond belief that her vacation was not only approved but met with a kind word. She didn’t want fear of damaging her reputation at work hanging over her while she dealt with whatever was happening to her. Barbara might be a tough boss, but the woman had a kind heart underneath the no-nonsense exterior.

  Wanting to take advantage of how great she was feeling, Paige packed her suitcases. Lara texted saying she and Brooke would pick Paige up at seven o’clock, leaving Paige the day before her to get ready. She felt so good, in fact, that it was almost difficult to remember the suffering of the night before. No ill-effects from the pain or nausea remained, hinting at the possibility that the illness had run its course.

  *

  Cael Maccinnis was not a being to trifle with. He’d seen everything in Paige’s heart, the only reason he hadn’t forcibly taken her right then. Her pain had been too intense to move her. Throughout the long night he’d been beside her, cloaking his presence in order to offer comfort, to get her through the night. Dawn was breaking before her symptoms abated, and he dared not risk moving her then. Again, he was separated from her. But not for long.

  Day grew increasingly overcast, a thick fog creeping over the city, eerily invading every corner. From Fife House Cael followed Paige’s thoughts and plans, angered that she thought to run from him. He’d told her of its futility; he’d not lied. That she would deny herself – them both – the pleasure of being together, a denial that was hurting her right now, in the hopes of avoiding a possible future pain made no sense to him.

  But you know not what it means to be mortal, Cael.

  His conscience broke in, putting her actions into perspective. One thing was certain. If she thought to be getting on that plane the woman was indeed daft. He’d not allow it. He’d risk her displeasure, her anger, to prevent her death. She’d thank him later. For once he was going to act on what he knew to be right; damn the consequences. As the heavy fog rolled in, he smiled. He’d be going to her long before sunset.

  Once safe in the Highlands Cael could properly care for her during her Awakening. He’d heard it a grueling process, convinced after what he’d seen last night. Paige needed blood, the richer and more powerful, the better. His was perfect. Convincing her to drink would be the hardest part, and he was betting on her natural survival instincts to aid him. She’d been so upset after biting him she’d not actually taken enough to offer her much help. Soon, her body would need blood to survive.

  “Maccinnis.”

  The single word spoke volumes.

  Cael eyed the vampire who had betrayed him so long ago. He’d like to kill him, but wouldn’t give the Council the satisfaction. They cared little for Kaiden Douglas beyond his acquiescence to their rules and regulations, and Cael knew that they thought him a lesser being all around. That’s exactly why he was in the position of Fife House coven leader. Kaiden of Clan Douglas would never buck the system – he’d exploit it.

  Kaiden, shorter than Cael’s six-foot three inch frame, postured haughtily. Cael offered no signal to his own feelings, staring coolly at the vehement glare thrown his way.

  Kaiden’s expression changed, a malevolent smile creasing his face.

  “I see you’ve finally found another female,” he commented, distaste lacing his tone along with interest. “I’ll remember her scent, Maccinnis, perhaps look her up sometime.”

  The implication was more than Cael could stomach. Grabbing Kaiden, his preternatural speed caught the younger vampire off guard, and Cael slammed him into the stone wall.

  “The day I catch the taint of ye near her, Douglas, be the day I rip yer throat out.”

  Visibly shaken that Cael would dare to accost him knowing his position as coven leader, Kaiden backed down from the current confrontation. Kaiden enjoyed no hope of victory, and both men knew it. But Kaiden was conniving and ruthless. Cael had erred in showing his hand. If Kaiden discovered he was bonded to a female, forget the fact that she was a half-born who wasn’t fully through her Awakening, he’d use it to his advantage.

  “Relax, Highlander,” Kaiden said, attempting to hide his tremulous speech. “There’s no need for violence between us. That didn’t go well for you the last time if I remember correctly.”

  “Aye, Douglas, nor fer ye.”

  Kaiden reacted as if he’d bitten into a bitter source, the reference not only to his own sound defeat but to Gwendolyn, who had left Kaiden for another soon after the incident, stinging. She had never been loyal, waiting for Kaiden’s punishment to be ended beyond her shallowness.

  “You haven’t got her either, Maccinnis,” the words hissed from his clenched teeth.

  “Aye. But then, Kaiden, I doona want her.”

  Kaiden adjusted his white dress shirt and jacket, the sneer returning to his pale face.

  “I suggest you keep this female more satisfied than your last. Otherwise, you’ll lose her as well.”

  Kaiden nodded pointedly, ready to parry words anew. Cael denied him the pleasure. He’d offer no further information on Paige, his only goal to get her to the Highlands and have the Awakening complete. Everything else could wait. It would take great power to cloak her during the transition, assuming he could alter what his visions revealed. Turning on his heel, Cael strode from the hall into the misty haze of afternoon.

  *

  Malcolm debated. Darkness surrounded his thoughts concerning his daughter, the unknowing a torture worse than he’d imagined. Burgundy velvet draped the floor-to-ceiling windows, intricately carved molding boxes topping them. Opulent furnishings decorated the spacious study, none more magnificent than the heavy cherry desk he sat behind. The comforts, however, offered no respite from the uncertainty pressing in from all sides.

  Pilar had held her end of the bargain thus far, the labyrinth created in his mind concealing his knowledge. What the woman would ask in return had yet to be discussed. He had caught no further glimpse of his child, nor gained any insight into her situation.

  “Malcolm,” the familiar voice called, tapping on the door to his study. “May I come in?”

  He exhaled, steadying himself for the rush of emotion her presence would induce.

  “Please, come in, Pilar.”

  Dark hair framed her angelic face, her blouse open enough to hint at ample breasts, her lips a siren’s blush. Pilar was a woman who got what she wanted, and he guessed that she had cho
sen this moment to present her demands. Seductively, her hips swayed as she closed the gap between them, each step bringing her closer to him and his hunger for her. Pilar was dangerous. Druids were comprised of curious humans, humans with gifts from the Fates that did not fit in with the hoard of humanity, and half-born vampires who managed to survive. Pilar was a Druid priestess and half-born vampire that not only managed to survive and mature, but had never turned vampire. She embodied what the Council feared most. Druid priestesses were versed in the most complex magic. Their very survival depended on their ability to conceal what they were. They were also learned in the ways of the vampire, knowing more than most vampires knew of their own race aside from the ancients themselves.

  Her blood called to him. He desired her. And Pilar knew it.

  What she didn’t know was that his body demanded he bond to her. Malcolm was extremely powerful. Counted among the oldest of the ancients, he had lived, loved, and lost over millennia, battling for the existence of his kind against innumerable foes, victorious thus far. Pilar may be worthy of his respect, but Malcolm was ready for her, and he was a dangerous opponent.

  “Something has come to my attention. Is it safe to speak freely in here?” she asked quietly.

  “Of course,” Malcolm responded, caught off guard by her secrecy.

  He had been expecting a different approach.

  “You mentioned a woman, Anna Kinnell, the other day.” She bent near his ear. “It seems the woman has been in contact with a Druid. Not a priestess, mind you, but a woman of considerable power.”

  “This is nothing out of the ordinary,” he responded, uncertain why Pilar was behaving as if it were a matter of grave concern.

  “Malcolm,” Pilar whispered, her brown eyes showing a disquiet Malcolm had never seen in them before, “it is rumored this woman has the power to summon the Fates themselves.”

  Malcolm paled, and Pilar dropped to her knees beside him, clasping his hands in her own. “If this is true…”