The Last Celtic Witch [Celtic Series Book 1] Page 9

  Although the taste of bile rose in her throat, she swallowed a gulp of air and forced herself to peek around the corner.

  No one was there.

  A flapping noise sounded close to her head and she looked up. She screamed when a caw resonated in her ears. A large raven swooped down from the rafters and fluttered around her head, its sharp beak pecking her scalp, drawing blood.

  Adela waved her hands above her head and ran down the hallway. Her powder having disappeared from sight, she ran mindlessly, flailing her arms to ward off the ear-piercing call of the raven and its vicious blows.

  She barged through an open door at the end of the hallway and quickly shut it behind her. Leaning against the heavy oak plank, she breathed in shallow, quick gasps. Her pulse beat erratically as she tried to keep her fragile control.

  After an interminable silence, Adela pressed her ear against the oak to listen for signs of the demonic bird. When all was quiet she turned to face the darken interior of the chamber.

  "Why does that raven keep following me?"

  A shadow appeared at the corner of her eye, and she jump in fright.

  It was her orange powder.

  The tight knot within her began to relax. She sighed on a shaky breath. Opening the bag tied to the rope around her waist, she whispered, “Return."

  Adela stepped further into the chamber and was overwhelmed with a sense of evil, drugging her spirit with a heavy darkness. If the powder was in here, this chamber had to be Lady Torella's. Why did she not sense anything at their first meeting? Perhaps losing Phillip had distracted her powers.

  The chamber held a large bed, similar to hers, but with dark blue blankets and sheer curtains draped from the posts. Adela surveyed the neat covers. Not a crease could be found.

  A heat fused her cheeks when she pictured Phillip and Lady Torella tangled in the bed sheets, each clawing at the other with insatiable hunger.

  "Stop it!” she admonished herself and turned her back on the bed. Her gaze was drawn immediately to a dark mist hovering over a golden chest in the corner. She kneeled down before the chest and found no keyhole. Placing her hands on the metal lid, a malevolent energy climbed up her arm, chilling her blood. An agonizing groaned escaped her lips. She resisted the sharp pain that seeped into her soul. With all her weight, she pushed harder against the chest, but the lid would not budge.

  "Curse this chest!” Sitting back on her legs, Adela panted with frustration and absently rubbed her arms.

  She studied the outside of the strongbox. The plain sides held nary a carving or drawing.

  "It is unusual for a chest to have no creative symbols identifying the maker,” Adela said, tapping her finger against her chin. “Perhaps it has already been cursed."

  Opening the bag at her waist, she pulled out a black leaf and crushed it over the chest.

  "I command you to take away the guardian and open this lid."

  A dark green light exploded in front of her. Adela yelped and fell back. Putrid smoke filled the air, and she coughed while waving her hand back and forth to disperse the haze.

  When the smoke cleared, she edged closer to find the lid open. She pulled out vials of potions and herbs, a jar of dead men's toes, a horse's hoof, and a bag of small animal bones. At the bottom of the chest lay a thick ancient book with Dark Magick written in gold across the cover.

  The shock of discovery siphoned the blood from her face.

  "She is a sorceress."

  Against her instincts, Adela picked up the vile book and riffled through aged, yellow pages until she found the spell Torella used on Phillip to give him sexual hallucinations. Phillip had experienced no dream, but a reality. Torella had seduced Phillip that night. And it was done before Adela had even considered the love potion. Torella has spied on them all this time.

  But why?

  Why go to all this trouble when she could have made an alliance with Phillip without the potion?

  Phillip. She must warn him.

  Pushing to her feet, she rushed to the door and swung it open.

  Blocking her path stood a large fierce soldier with red hair.

  Dougal!

  He grasped her shoulders in a painful grip.

  "I want you to be a good witch and die quietly."

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  Chapter 12

  Torella exhaled as she walked into her chamber. “I suppose I will have to change my gown for the Hand fasting this eve.” Untying her black cloak, she threw the coat on her bed.

  "No matter what you wear, milady, you will always look fetching,” Jacob said. Her new lover stood behind her and brushed her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

  Torella swiveled around and smiled. Her new dusky slave had proven to be an adequate lover with plenty of sexual energy to feed from. She ripped his coarse gray shirt apart and ran her hand down his dark, smooth chest.

  "I believe we have time before the feast to have one of our own.” Torella placed a foot on the bed and lifted her black velvet gown to her waist, exposing a thatch of dark coiled hair at the apex of her thighs. “Now eat!"

  Jacob dropped to his knees, grabbed her buttocks for support and pushed his thick, wide tongue past her outer lips. She chocked on a moan. The familiar warm sensation seeped into her body, filling her spirit with power.

  "This pleases me well,” she drawled.

  Holding his head firmly against her groin, she pinched an erect nipple beneath her gown. While his tongue swirled against her slick, satin flesh, Torella's arousal increased at the sight of Jacob's sable skin against her creamy thighs. Once she was wed, she would see to obtaining a harem of these magnificent men.

  She threw her head back, her body clenched with building pleasure.

  "Aye, that's it! Keep licking!"

  So close.

  Torella smiled with anticipation. She glanced down at her slave and her smile faded.

  "What is that?"

  Jacob raised his head. “Do I displease you?"

  Torella pushed him away and stormed around his sprawling body. “What is this chest doing open?"

  Jacob shrugged and rose to his feet.

  Lifting the lid, she ran her hand over the golden metal. “Show me who was in here."

  A reflection of the witch appeared across the lid. In the vision, Adela opened the chest and searched through Torella's private possessions. The girl rose from the floor and went to leave. But Dougal stood at the door, his murderous eyes glaring at the intruder.

  "Argh!"

  A wave of black shadow descended the chamber and her slave cowered in the corner. Her eyes glowed red with mounting fury. The air crackled with tense energy when she stormed out of the chamber.

  * * * *

  Ominous clouds gathered to the east while Phillip crouched low to study the condition of battlement's stone wall. The chestnut stallion shifted behind him, tugging on the reins in Phillip's hand.

  "Repairs will need to be done this side,” he informed two of his soldiers. A wild gust of wind tore at his hair.

  His horse sidestepped against the whirling gale, his head bucked up and down. “Easy.” Phillip rose and tightened the grip on the reins.

  The eldest soldier with a thick blond beard asked, “Think you we need to repair the wall, since we now have an alliance with the Campbells?"

  "Can never be too safe,” Phillip replied distractedly, studying the darkened skies.

  A young, lean soldier of nineteen winters questioned, “Are you having second thoughts, my laird?"

  Phillip jerked his gaze to the youth. “Nae. Why would you say that?"

  "It is just...” he looked over at the other soldier who vigorously shook his head. Uncertainty clouded his brown eyes, and he remained silent.

  "Go on, lad,” Phillip urged, his arms crossed.

  "'Tis just we were hoping you had changed your mind. A lot of the clan does not want a Campbell living among us."

  "Lady Torella is...” Phillip paused, his gaze unfocused. �
��Did you hear that?"

  "Hear what, my laird?"

  Lifting his weight into the saddle, he turned his horse around. “Something is amiss.” His chest wrenched with an unfamiliar pain. Adela's fair image came to mind and his heart raced.

  The horse dangerously galloped down the mountainside, his hooves sliding in muddy patches. Phillip used all his experience to keep his balance. He had not the time to lose his saddle.

  Mud flicked up behind the horse's backside as they raced through the open gates, his people scrambling to get out of his way. Swinging from his mount, he ran inside the cool interior of the Great Hall and called out to his servants. “Has anyone seen Mistress Adela?"

  A few serving maids stopped what they were doing and stared with blank expressions.

  Growling with frustration, he rushed passed them to take the stairs two at a time. His breath came in labored gasps by the time he reached Adela's chamber. He searched the empty room to find the few possessions she had brought with her, gone.

  She left him after all.

  He had hoped...

  He shook his head. It broke his heart to see the hurt look in her eyes when he told her to leave. However, ‘twas for the best. So why did he have the sense that Adela was in trouble?

  "Macquire,” Phillip called to a heavily built soldier passing in the hallway.

  "Aye, my laird?"

  "Who is on duty as Gatekeeper?"

  "That be O'Malley."

  "Summon him."

  * * * *

  "Is this about the chicken I ate?” Adela tried to shrug her arm free from her captor's grasp, but he only tightened his hold.

  A boisterous laugh echoed off the enclosed walls of the secret passage he had shoved her into. “I can see why Phillip is infatuated with you.” Dougal leaned closer to her ear and she smelled garlic on his breath. “Even confronted with death you have a sense of humor."

  She scrunched up her face and waved her hand across her nose. “I have seen my death. It will not come by your sword."

  "Brave words you speak."

  He pushed her into another passage and another spider's web.

  "Why do you wish me ill?” She brushed the silky net from her face.

  "Once you are dead, the love spell will be broken."

  "It is Dougal, right? The War Trainer?"

  "Aye."

  "Then let's assume you have some sense about you.” Adela abruptly snatched her arm back and turned to him. “Whether I am alive or dead the love spell would still be effective."

  "You would say anything to save your life."

  "Aye, usually I would, but this time it is true.” Adela squinted through the darkness to see the color of his aura shift. “You are not in love with Lady Torella. She is has enchanted you with lust."

  "What makes you think I do this for her?"

  "The energy surrounding you tells me it is so."

  A vision flashed before her eyes of Dougal's head being sliced off, his blood soaking the fields.

  "Listen to me, please. We must return. There is death for you ahead,” Adela implored.

  "Shut up!” He yanked her arm and heaved open a thick door at the end of the tunnel. “My plans will not be thwarted."

  A gust of wind kicked up around Adela's gown, blowing her against the solid wall of Dougal's chest. He pushed her outside into a meadow full of fragrant heather and pine trees. The secret passage led them to the other side of the mountain.

  Adela tried to convince him again. “You must listen to me."

  "I do not care what you say. You will die, and Torella will be my lover once more."

  "Nae, I will not!” A shrill voice called from behind, sending a shiver of fear through Adela.

  Dougal's face went pale and he turned, pushing Adela before him as a shield.

  "I told you to look after her, not kill her!” Lady Torella's black gown swayed in the blustery weather.

  The sword from his scabbard lifted on its own accord and raised high in the air. He released Adela's arm to defend the blow, but was too late. The sword sliced through his neck, severing his head.

  Warm blood splattered on Adela's face and clothes. She stood still, her body numb with shock.

  The fierce winds whipped ebony hair around Torella's face as she walked closer to Adela. The sorceress wiped blood from Adela's cheek with her fingertip and placed it on her tongue. “Hmm, taste like metal."

  "What do you want with me?” Adela's voice wavered with apprehension.

  Torella smiled with wicked green eyes and circled Adela like a predator playing with its prey. “I want your baby and then your powers."

  Adela gasped and her hand flew to her stomach. “I am not..."

  "Aye, you are! Phillip's seed grows deep within, mixing with your enchanted blood."

  Adela yelped when Torella grabbed her arms. Within a blink of her eyes, they were transported to the castle's dungeons.

  Adela forced back the nausea that threatened her balance. She backed away from the sorceress until she felt the damp wall behind. “Phillip would not allow you to kill me."

  Torella threw her head back and laughed while caressing the vial resting on her chest. “Thanks to your love spell, Phillip would do whatever I ask."

  "Why were you not affected by the same spell?” Adela's attention was drawn to the necklace. “That vial protects you."

  "You are quick, lass.” She walked over to the barred window and smiled down at the bailey below. “I simply love the smell of burning witch."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "When you burn on All Hallows Eve, your powers will be transformed unto me just like the other Celtic witches before you."

  Adela gasped. “You killed my family?"

  Torella laughed without mirth. “Who do you think raised the suspicions of the town's people on All Hallows Eve?"

  "I will not let you get away with this. I will find the power to fight you."

  "No witch has been able to on All Hallows Eve. Although, ‘tis delicious to watch."

  Adela's eyes darkened with rage. “That will not happen to me."

  "Aye, it will. Once the flames start to singe the skin on your feet, you will crumple with pain.” Torella floated over to Adela and stood inches away from her. “I can smell your fear already."

  Adela tilted her chin a fraction higher.

  Ignoring Adela's bravado, Torella pivoted, her gown swirling above the soiled rushes. An expression of smug delight showed in her eyes. “There is one option that I suggest you take. You can either allow your baby to burn along with you in your womb, or drink this potion.” A chalice materialized within her hand. “With your death, your babe's soul will enter my womb, to be brought up as my child, but with your powers."

  "Dear Goddesses."

  "They cannot help you now. This dungeon is cursed to bind your powers until All Hallows Eve.” She placed the chalice on the floor and opened the dungeon door. Turning back, she added, “At least you got your wish, Adela. The MacAye bloodline will exist after you are gone. Each generation will give me their powers. My eternal youth and beauty will be assured."

  "Nae, you cannot do this!"

  "Drink the potion, Adela. Save your baby from burning to death, and Celtic magick will live on."

  The dungeon door slammed closed. Adela jumped from the heavy echo. She rubbed the chill from her arms and looked out the window to the bailey. Sounds of hammering floated up to her prison. Torella's soldiers were building a base for the stake.

  Her vision was coming true.

  Her fate inescapable.

  She will burn.

  Leaning against the mossy walls, she collapsed to the floor and sobbed with desolation. Through the tears, her eyes flicked over to the chalice.

  By itself, the chalice scraped eerily across the stone floor when it came to stop within arms length. Adela picked it up. Its lime liquid glimmered with hope. Tenderly, she placed a hand across her stomach. An overwhelming love radiated from her core being.


  She was with child.

  Phillip's child.

  She knew what she had to do.

  After wiping her tear stained face, Adela held the chalice with both hands.

  "Phillip, wherever you are. Forgive me. I must save our baby."

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  Chapter 13

  Phillip's cool exterior depicted an ease he did not necessarily feel. He shifted with impatience on his high chair while overlooking the festivities. His lovely betrothed sat to his right, her cleavage full and enticing in a blood-red gown. Phillip resisted the urge to stare at her. Every time he did, his will melted in her sensual emerald eyes, urging him to give her anything she desired.

  Instead, he chose to survey the room, his astute gaze leaping over the heads of countless people, seeking the familiar face of only one that remained elusive.

  A warm hand glided up his thigh and a jolt of heat went through his muscles.

  "What are you doing, milady?” he choked out the words, keeping his eyes averted.

  Lady Torella whispered in his ear, “I want us to have an heir straight away.” With one finger, she tilted his chin toward him, forcing his gaze to be captured within her almond shaped eyes. “Perhaps we could start this eve?"

  "My laird,” Macquire's deep voice called from a distance, slowly pulling Phillip out of the trance.

  "My laird.” The soldier's voice was closer. “Pray pardon for my interruption, but I have found the gatekeeper."

  Phillip shook his head to clear it. But he did not miss hatred emanating from the lady's eyes, while glaring at Macquire. The poor soldier lowered his head and stood to the side of Phillip's chair.

  "Who did you find?” Phillip stirred from his seat and twisted around to focus on what his man was saying.

  "O'Malley. The Gatekeeper."

  Phillip stared blankly at the large soldier and then beyond to the elderly gatekeeper standing close to the wall.

  "You ask me to find him immediately."

  "I ... I do not know why."

  Their puzzled expressions reflected his own as he searched his hazy memory of the afternoon. After a long pause, he cleared his throat and responded, “Go back to your duties. Wait—has anyone seen Dougal? He has not reported to me in some time."