Page 20 of To Wed a Highlander
“I have done,” Badb argued. “I have quite the collection of souls, already. But he would be my greatest acquisition. I no longer draw my power from the Goddess, but from something darker and more ancient than evenher. Once they belong to me, their powers are mine, as well.”
The possession she’d felt before exploded into a fury of frantic need, and Kenna made a decision that could forever alter her stars. “You cannot have his soul,” she called, the flames whipping around her and reaching toward the triad of witches. “For it belongs to me, and I belong to him.Heis my mate and I accept him as such.”
Invisible cords, as soft and yet unyielding as silk reached through the ether and slid through the very fibers of her being.
Niall’s handsome face registered so many things, she couldn’t blink lest she miss something. Astonishment, pleasure, relief, victory, and finally, wrath. Storms and shadows gathered in his eyes and his lips pulled back from teeth as sharp as a predator’s.
The Wyrd Sisters were about to meet his Berserker.
In one powerful flex, the ropes surrounding him snapped, and Macha flew through the air with a swipe of his hand, breaking on the wall and slumping to the mud. Niall leapt after her, clearly intent on murder.
Kenna attacked, as well, slinging her flames in great, lashing whips trying to keep both Nemain and Badb from Niall.
She failed; Nemain had fire of her own, and seemed to steal it from Kenna each time they fought, or lash back at her, forcing her to parry. They were at an impasse.
If only Morgana were here.
Levitating herself above the fray, Badb flew at Niall with a blood-curdling screech, her talon-like fingers clawed into the air and made a fist as though she grasped something ultimately difficult to hold. “His blood is strong, and his soul stronger, but I can still take it,” she cackled gleefully, as Niall grunted his steps faltering. “He will serve me well. He will be locked in the cold darkness of the nether, always hungering, ever thirsting. And you’ll be left with his perfectly preserved corpse as a reminder of what you’ve done to him.”
“Stop!” Kenna cried out desperately, blasting Badb with a lash of flames that the old woman easily dodged.
Niall groaned and dropped to his knees, a strange illumination beginning to tear away from his back, rippling along his spine and arching as though struggling to stay inside of him.
“No!” Kenna cried. “Stop!”
The beast roared, not the roar of dominance or victory, but that of a wounded bear, desperate and furious as more of his soul ripped out of his flesh with a sound so horrible Kenna wanted to cover her ears like a child.
That roar pierced her own soul, cutting through her as nothing else had. Never had a fear of loss been so great. Never had her heart beat so hard, not because of herself butforanother.
She’d given that heart to him, and would lose it completely if she lost him.
“Come to me, Berserker,” Badb taunted. “I will take you apart, and rebuild you. I will make you forget who you are. Who you love. Forget everything and everyone butmeand my will. You will help me to bring about the Apocalypse and I will take my place among the demons to rule the afterlife.”
The tragedy of that threat broke Kenna’s will, at last. “I’ll tell you where it is!” she cried. Hurling one last fire bolt at Nemain, knowing it would do no damage. “The Grimoire, you can have it. Just— let him go.”
Badb’s eyes glowed with silver light, so evil and malignant that Kenna wanted to claw them out. “Where?” she demanded.
Kenna’s shoulder slumped, her lungs deflated, and her voice wavered as she forced out the words that may just damn the world. “The library,” she croaked, pointing to the appropriate window. “Beneath the window seat.”
Instead of rushing for it, Badb dropped Niall, curled her fingers again, and lifted Nemain from her feet. With a throwing motion, she hurled the girl at the window of the library. “Get the Grimoire,” she hissed. “Do not fail me this time.”
Wet, slick, and grotesque popping sounds echoed from the far wall of the courtyard, and Kenna turned to see Macha setting bones and mending them, the rain lending her powers of healing.
Niall faced the water witch still, shaking off the effect of Badb’s terrifying grip, and rubbing his sternum as though to prove it was still there. Recovering, he rose from the mud like the warrior he was, comprised of parts earth, water, air and fire. Like all creatures.
Rivulets of rain ran into the cuts and groves of his muscles, disappearing into his trews. His back rippled with readiness and his hands curled at his sides.
Kenna could only see him from behind, but she knew how fierce his handsome face could be, and that Macha read murder in his eyes. His speed was blinding. Suddenly he had a sword, and then Macha had no head.
Her powers were quickly waning, and she lashed out again at Badb, who leapt toward Macha with a scream that shattered the clay pots in the courtyard. Kenna’s arrows of flame pierced Badb’s robes, but were quickly extinguished by the wind and rain.
“I will end you!” she screeched at Niall. “I will end everything!”
Kenna’s legs gave as the earth beneath her shifted, plaster and stone dust fell from awnings and the short towers of Westmire Abbey. The rain abated, as though someone had swept the clouds aside, and the ground began to quake with a furious rumble.
“What fresh sorcery is this?” Niall demanded, whirling about with his sword raised.
Kenna stumbled toward him, though her heart lifted with relief. “Malcolm,” she sobbed with relief. “Morgana.”
