Dark Warrior [5] Midnight's Kiss Read online

  Dimly, he heard Ronnie scream as the creature’s head fell off its body and rolled on the ground. Arran grabbed the monster nearest him and wrapped his hands around its head. With a jerk and a yank, he pulled the creature’s head off.

  When he turned to continue fighting, he found the others gone. Arran felt himself begin to fall and moved one foot forward to keep his balance. He looked down at his body to see it riddled with bite marks and the blood of the monsters. It was then he grasped that it was their blood that burned his skin.

  The chamber began to spin, and no matter how hard he tried to keep his feet, his legs gave out. Arran fell to his knees hard, his body working double to keep breathing.

  A sound behind him—half cry, half moan—caught him right before he fell facedown.

  Ronnie.

  Arran knew his skin was still white, and no matter how hard he tried to tamp down his god, it didn’t work. He was in too much pain and too weak to have much command. The only good thing was that his god was also weak, so there was no chance for him to take control of Arran either.

  Arran tried to push onto his hands and knees, but only managed to scoot forward. If those creatures came back, there was no way he could protect Ronnie. That thought kept him moving.

  Somehow, he got back on his knees and turned his head to her. She stared wide-eyed at him. How he hated the fear he saw on her face. Didn’t she realize he wouldn’t hurt her? Didn’t she know he’d do anything to keep her safe?

  “Willna. Harm. You.”

  Each word was more difficult to say. The edges of his vision were darkening, and he didn’t know how much longer he could stay conscious. He had to get her out of the chamber and to safety, and preferably call Fallon for help.

  All he was able to get out was, “Get. Away.”

  “No.” Suddenly she was beside him.

  He saw her reaching for him. Arran jerked away, which caused him to topple sideways. Dirt ground into the bite marks and rubbed against the creatures’ blood, burning him for a second time.

  “Nay. Ronnie. Leave.”

  * * *

  Ronnie licked her lips and looked down at the man who had fought so valiantly to save them both. He’d been far outnumbered and wounded. Yet he hadn’t given up. He had stopped that monster from touching her.

  Bite marks peppered Arran’s bare torso, arms, neck, and even his face. She had to help him somehow, and leaving him wasn’t an option.

  “What do I do, Arran? Tell me,” she urged.

  She was afraid to touch him, not because his skin was as white as new-fallen snow, but because he was in such pain. When he opened his eyes and she saw they were solid white from corner to corner, she could only stare.

  They were the same eyes she’d seen in her dream. The man who wound her body so tight with desire did indeed have a secret as great as her own.

  His eyes shut and his hands fisted. She swallowed when she saw the long white claws. Ronnie looked around, trying to find some way to help him. She could call for help, but what would they do when they saw Arran?

  She wouldn’t do that to him. Whatever he was, he kept it secret—and now, so would she. Ronnie rushed out of the chamber and saw a large bottle of water that had been left by someone. She grabbed it and ran back to Arran.

  All the bites had to be cleaned before an infection began. Hesitantly she dribbled water onto a wound near his shoulder. The water ran down and smeared blood on his biceps.

  A sigh left him.

  “Better?” she asked.

  He gave a single nod. Ronnie began to clean off the bites, but it didn’t take her long to realize it wasn’t the bites that hurt him, it was the blood.

  She then worked diligently to remove the creatures’ blood from Arran’s chest, arms, and face. Only then did she turn him over so that his head rested on her legs and she had access to his back.

  “What are you?” she asked, now that his breathing had evened out.

  “A Warrior.”

  “Of course you’re a warrior.”

  “Nay, Ronnie. A Warrior. Remember the story that old man told you about the Celts?”

  She stilled, her hand holding the bottle above his back, ready to pour. “Yes.”

  “Tell me what he told you.”

  “I think I’d rather you tell me.”

  He winced when she touched a spot with the dried blood.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed her leg with his hand, a hand that had so tenderly held her hours ago while they kissed. A hand that was pierced with bite marks and that had claws he kept carefully away from her. “Doona fash yourself. I’ve withstood worse kinds of pain.”

  “That’s hard to believe after seeing you like this.”

  “It’s true. Ronnie, I’m immortal.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t sure what a person was supposed to say when given a statement like that. She continued to wash the blood off his back. Her hands were soft as she barely touched his skin. But she was sure there had been more bite marks on his back the last time she looked.

  “Nay, I really am. The story the old man told you is true. Long ago, when Rome came to Britain, they couldna conquer the Celts. But no matter how hard the Celts fought, they couldna make the Romans leave.”

  “What happened?” she asked, and began to work on cleaning his hands.

  “There is magic in this land I love. It’s in the water, in the verra air we breathe.”

  “And the ground?”

  “Aye,” he said. “Magic is here because of the Druids. As with anything, there were the good Druids, mies, and the evil ones, the droughs.”

  “What’s the difference between them? The choices they make?”

  She felt rather than saw his smile. “Somewhat. The mies magic is the pure form they were born with. They use it for good, to teach, or to help. The droughs, however, give their soul to Satan in order to have black magic. A single drough against a single mie will win against the mie every time. But gather a group of mies together, and the drough doesna stand a chance.”

  Ronnie was enthralled with his story and how easily he spoke of magic and Druids. Her hands had gone from stroking his shoulders to playing with his hair. She chided herself and poured more water on the bites.

  Only to discover there weren’t so many as before.

  “So the Celts went to the Druids for help,” she said.

  Arran nodded. “The mies wouldna help them, but the droughs would. The droughs called up gods long forgotten and locked in Hell. The strongest warriors from each family stepped forward to host a god.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

  “They were desperate to rid their land of the Romans. So the warriors accepted the gods, and in the process became unbeatable in battle. They attacked Rome again and again. It wasna long before Rome left Britain altogether.”

  Ronnie twisted her lips. “That’s not what Rome says happened, but then again, I know all about how countries in power decide what will be written in history.”

  “Aye. With the Romans gone, the warriors began to turn on each other and anyone else they encountered. The droughs had expected to be able to pull the gods out of the men once their mission was finished, but it didna go as planned. Nothing the droughs did stopped the gods. So they went to the mies for help.”

  “That took some guts.”

  Arran shifted his back, the muscles moving as fluidly as water. “It did. It also took the droughs and the mies working together to bind the gods inside these warriors. It was the first, and last, time the two sects worked together.”

  “So the gods were bound. What happened to the men?”

  “They remembered nothing of what they’d done since the gods entered their body. The gods were bound, passing through the bloodline and going to the strongest warrior each time. The gods were never again supposed to be unbound. But there was a drough who wanted to rule the world. She found a way to unbind the gods.”

  Ronnie looked across the chamber at
the vacant wall and thought back to the old man’s story. “The MacLeods. The old man mentioned the MacLeods.”

  “That’s where Deirdre began her run for power. She used her black magic to make herself immortal and spent centuries looking for the MacLeod who was the key. She found out it wasn’t just one MacLeod, but brothers. Three brothers, in fact.”

  “This Deirdre didn’t really murder the entire MacLeod clan?”

  “She did,” Arran said, and sat back on his heels. His skin was still white, and his claws still visible as well. Claws …

  They accounted for the marks she found in the dirt after Arran had saved her, when the ground caved in. He’d used his claws to secure himself. Now it was all beginning to make sense.

  Ronnie took one of his hands in hers again and inspected the long, curved white talon. “Did Deirdre find the MacLeods she needed?”

  “Aye, and she unbound their god. The three brothers shared a god because they were equal in battle. They were the first of us, and the ones who were lucky enough to escape Deirdre. It didna deter her, though. She set out, finding more of us and unbinding our gods.”

  “This white skin, the claws, and your … your eyes,” she said, and paused to swallow. “They are what make you a Warrior?”

  “Doona forget these,” he said, and peeled back his lips for her to see his fangs.

  “Are you trying to scare me?”

  “I want you to know me.” He glanced away. “Ronnie, the form you see me in now is what happens when I allow my god to rise up. I have control over him, but no’ every Warrior does. The gods are strong. They want battle and blood and death.”

  “As strong as you Warriors are, did you not go after Deirdre?”

  He smiled and looked at the ceiling. “That’s a verra long story, but we did. And we beat her as well as her successor, Declan Wallace.”

  “Declan,” she said in awe. “Interesting. Does Saffron know what you are?”

  “Of course.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly, and it was a moment before she realized why. “Because her husband, Camdyn, is also a Warrior.”

  “Precisely.”

  She looked at his chest in time to see one of the bites heal. A quick glance showed her all but a few of the bites were now gone.

  “You really are immortal. Can you not be killed?”

  “Aye. Take our heads, or put drough blood in our wounds.”

  “Lovely,” she murmured, and stood. She dusted off her hands and looked around the chamber. “Those creatures. What were they?”

  “I’ve no idea. I’ve never seen the like in all my years.”

  “And just how many years are we talking about?”

  He grinned and got to his feet. “Six hundred and forty-six.”

  “Six…,” she said, and then lost her ability to talk.

  Arran shrugged. “There’s a story as to how we were leapfrogged through time, but that is going to have to wait. You didna know you were a Druid. How then did you know how to use your magic?”

  “I didn’t,” she said with a shrug. “At least, I didn’t do it on purpose at first. I just thought I was lucky. Then I realized that I could hear the artifacts singing to me. And only I could hear their song.”

  “Pete doesna know?”

  “No. No one but you. I love what I do, Arran. I know it’s wrong how I come about the relics, but I have to find them.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with what you do, Ronnie. Each Druid has a special gift of magic to use. You’ve chosen to use yours in your work, and you doona harm anyone in the process.”

  “Until today,” she whispered.

  “Why did you open the box?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “It’s what I came down here to do, but then I changed my mind. I was going to take the box to my tent and open it later. But the overpowering urge to open it took me. I couldn’t stop myself. By the way, I think you need to add those creatures’ blood to your list of things that can hurt you.”

  She could feel his eyes on her, his white eyes. Gone was the golden gaze she’d come to enjoy so much. As if he were reading her mind, his white skin faded away. His claws disappeared, the fangs vanished, and his golden eyes returned.

  “We need to look at everything in this chamber.” He walked to the nearest item and inspected it. That’s when it dawned on her he was looking for something.

  “You came to this dig for a reason.”

  Arran’s head slowly lifted, and he looked at her. “Aye. There is a spell I’m looking for. This spell will bind our gods once more and allow the Warriors who are married to live normal, mortal lives. They doona wish to bring children into this world while they’re immortal.”

  “Saffron and Camdyn did.”

  “And that was an accident. The Druids at the castle have been preventing pregnancy, but somehow with Saffron and Camdyn, the spell didna work.”

  “Druids? At the castle?” she repeated.

  He winced. “Ah … aye. There are Druids.”

  “And you think I’m one?”

  “I know you’re one. As a Warrior, I feel magic. Yours, Ronnie, is mie magic,” he said, and turned to face her. “Help us. Help me find the spell. It was taken in one of three shipments from Edinburgh hundreds of years ago. Two of the shipments, one by land and one by sea, made it to London. The third shipment went by land on the most difficult route. We believe this dig is part of the shipment.”

  “Shipment of what?”

  “Magical items.”

  After the monsters she’d just seen and learning about Arran, she didn’t hesitate to believe him. And after what she’d just released into the world, she needed to do something to make things right. “What am I looking for?”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  Arran shrugged. “I’ve no idea. It could be anything. At one time it was a scroll, but it had since been changed.”

  “That’s not a lot to go on.”

  “I know,” he said, and picked up a dagger. “It’s all we have.”

  “Don’t you need light?” Ronnie asked, and reached for her flashlight.

  He inspected the hilt when he found knotwork. “Nay. I can see as well in the dark as in the light. Anything that looks suspicious, let me know. This involves magic, so it could be anything.”

  “Not anything, surely. I mean, it’s a spell that was on a scroll. It’s not like it could magically become dirt or something.”

  Arran set aside the dagger once he was sure the knotwork on the hilt and blade were not the scroll. “Larena, who is our only female Warrior, has a ring. Inside the ring is a list of all the families who had a Warrior step forward so long ago. With just a few words, that list disappears into the stone on Larena’s ring.”

  “Well. Now that I know,” Ronnie said, and went back to looking.

  Arran smiled and moved to the next object. It was a scroll. He cautiously touched the edges to see how it had barely begun to be affected by time. It couldn’t be that easy, to find the spell on a scroll.

  Could it?

  He gently took it in his hands and unrolled it. With a sigh, he closed his eyes. It was a spell—but not the one he needed.

  After he carefully rolled up the scroll, Arran returned it to its spot and stood there. The spell on the scroll could be harmless. Or it could change everything.

  “None of these artifacts can see the light of day.”

  “Why?” Ronnie asked as she picked at a small rock and put it in the beam of her flashlight.

  “Each one of them is magical in some way. Some hold magic, like the box, and some are magic, like the scroll I just found that has a spell. There are still Druids out there, both good and bad, and it would be better for everyone if no one knew of these items.”

  Ronnie walked to him and touched his arm. “What about those pieces that did reach London. Where are they?”

  “Carefully guarded.”

  “How would you know?” she asked with a chuckle.

  Arran ran a hand over
his chin. “Larena’s power as a Warrior is to become invisible. She saw for herself just what was under lock and key in the royal palace in London.”

  “Shit.”

  “Larena’s power has come in handy on many occasions. She helped us defeat Declan and free another Druid, she found Saffron originally, and—”

  “Wait. Found Saffron?” Ronnie asked. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s no’ my story to tell, but I’ll say Declan kidnapped Saffron and kept her locked in a dungeon below his house.”

  Ronnie shook her head in surprise. “Dear God. Why would he want Saffron?”

  He hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her since it was Saffron’s story.

  “Or is she a Druid you spoke about?” Ronnie asked. Her eyes widened when he didn’t deny it. “Saffron is a Druid? What was it about her that Declan wanted?”

  “Declan was a drough, Ronnie. Saffron is a mie, but she’s also a Seer.”

  Ronnie shrugged and asked, “What does that mean exactly?”

  “Seers are the ones who see bits of the future. Saffron will get glimpses of people’s futures. Sometimes events will change those visions, and sometimes they willna. There have been a few instances when we’ve been able to help those involved if we knew them.”

  Ronnie rubbed at her cheek that was smudged with dirt. “I can’t believe Warriors are out there, and that I’m a Druid. A Druid! What else is there?”

  “These new creatures now, and to be honest, there probably is more.”

  “I don’t know whether to be excited or frightened.”

  “Probably a wee bit of both.” He moved to the next item and saw Ronnie staring at the box she’d opened.

  Arran walked around her and grabbed it. It was completely smooth, with no markings on it anywhere.

  “There’s nothing,” Ronnie said.

  “Aye, there is. I can feel the magic. I knew as soon as I arrived at your dig that magic was here. The problem is that I can no’ do magic, so this will take a Druid who knows what to look for to look at it and tell me what’s being hidden.”

  Ronnie turned around and put the light on the object behind her. “It’s another scroll.”