Rowan dodged the head-on charge by sliding to the side. A putrid stench was suddenly in the air. An icy hand gripped Rowan’s shoulder. He spun and stared into the white eyes of the undead. There were a dozen of them wandering through the fog, stumbling out of the cairn tunnels with stiff joints and rotten limbs.
Something snapped around Rowan’s neck and wrapped tightly enough to cut off the air. He dropped his sword, instinctively reaching for the whip wrapping around his throat. Whoever held it yanked and Rowan hit the ground. He gasped, or tried to, but the whip was too tight. His chest burned with the need to draw breath. It was all he could think about, and yet he couldn’t do it.
“Look, Simeon. Seems they’re not ghosts after all,” purred a high-pitched feminine voice.
Divina. Of course it would be her.
Simeon and Divina loomed over him, smiling as they watched him fight fruitlessly for breath.
“Aww, poor baby.” Divinatsked. “Not into breath play? Too bad for you, especially since you stumbled intoourparty. Let’s try another game then, shall we?”
She smiled down at him, doing and saying nothing. At first, he was confused, and then a dark mist sprang out of nowhere, swallowing him. When it cleared, he was no longer in the middle of the battle at the Dagh Cairn. Instead, he was standing back in the castle.
In Ambra’s room.
Wood creaked high over his head, behind him.Don’t turn around. You know what’s there. You know what’s waiting for you.But he couldn’t stop himself.
His heart pounding in his throat, he turned.
Ambra hung from the rafters, a braided rope around her neck, her body cold and eyes lifeless. A wooden chair lay tipped over just under where she hung.
No… Not this. Anything but this!He stood frozen beneath her still corpse, staring up into the distorted, dead face of his love.Why? Why didn’t she let me save her?
Her bent neck creaked, and the corpse lifted her head. “You,” she hissed, voice scratchy. “You did this to me.”
Rowan stumbled away, falling, filled with impossible dread. “No! I didn’t know!”
“Liar!” She lifted a finger, pointing at him. “This is all your fault. You never loved me. You only used me, just like you’ll use the others. You’re nothing but a selfish prick!”
“No!” He scrambled away, breathing so fast he thought his chest might explode.
Sharp laughter cut through the vision as he backed into Simeon. The image before him shattered like glass, disappearing behind a puff of smoke. Rowan spun, and Simeon’s hand closed around his jaw.
“Let’s see who you fuckers really are,” Simeon spat, and yanked the mask off Rowan’s face.
His eyes widened at the revelation of who he found beneath, but he didn’t have time to comment on it. Rowan swung a leg up, kneeing him hard between the legs. Simeon went to his knees, clutching himself. Divina yanked on her whip, but he was faster, rolling over and landing a punch to the inside of her knee. She went down with a screech. Rowan yanked the whip from around his neck, scrambling away.
All around, the fight was in full force, each of Rowan’s sons engaged. Peter sent out columns of flame, his taps flickering. He was nearly out of power. Connor’s bow sang, but his quiver was nearly empty. Ewan was one hammer down, and swinging the one he had slowly, face red from the effort. There were still dozens of bandits, far more than they could ever hope to take on. They should retreat as agreed, and he knew it.
But then some of the smoke cleared, and he got a good look at the bandit camp. They’d dragged the bones out of the cairn, put skulls and whole skeletons up on display. A wagon near one of the yawning entrances held a pile of jewelry, gems, and valuables stripped from the dead. Bandits were one thing. Grave robbing…
And then someone had invaded his mind, tricked him into feeling that despair, using Ambra’s memory against him?
Enraged, Rowan turned, cutting through another. The bandit was dead when he ripped his blade free. He kicked one, punched another, struck out again and again with his sword. He fought like a man possessed, and maybe he was. He certainly felt as if another hand was guiding his sword, making it stronger, faster than his own. Perhaps the Thief really had stepped in to avenge the dead who could do nothing for themselves.
Four, five, half a dozen bandits fell under his blade before they broke and ran.
Simeon recovered and tried to rally them to fight, but they ignored his commands, practically tumbling over each other on their way out.
Divina looked around, watched her men flee like cowards, and then pointed her whip at Rowan. “This isn’t over, Lord of Potatoes!”
“It is for you.” Ewan chucked his hammer at Divina and an arrow flew at her.
Somehow, she avoided both and snarled. “Kill them! Kill them all!” A horse galloped by, Simeon in the saddle. He scooped Divina up as he rode by and rode out of the Dagh Cairn as fast as the beast could carry him.
Ewan retrieved one of his fallen hammers and moved nearer to Rowan as the undead closed on their position. “You all right, lad?”
Rowan swallowed the last of his lingering guilt, stuffing it down. He could deal with that later, if they survived. “I can fight.”