Soul Taker (24 page)

The stranger finally noticed him and lifted
his hand in greeting as he spoke. "It is Alexander MacLaurin, yer
cousin, milaird."

Garran let out a sigh of relief and motioned
to Rory, who hid behind the rocks, that there was no need for
alarm.

"How far have ye traveled, Alexander?" he
asked.

"Far enough to know ye better no' go home as
yet. Any Jacobite found will be killed on sight, and anyone
harborin' said men will meet the same end."

"Holy Mother of God," Rory muttered. The tall
redhead had fought at Garran's back. Together, they kept the
dragoons at bay as his men had helped the injured to safety.

Alexander shook his head. "They're monsters,
the lot of them. The patrols have been circlin' back to butcher the
injured. That's why I've come to find ye. Ye need to come with me.
The bloody bastards are holdin' women and children, threatenin' to
execute them like they did at Leanach."

Garran frowned. "What happened at
Leanach?"

"Didn't ye hear? They executed thirty-two men
yesterday, deliberately burned them alive in a barn."

Rory crossed himself, muttering a prayer.

Their life as they knew it was over. All
they had to look forward to was a noose around their head. His gaze
wavered over Alexander. His mantle looked muddied and worn, but
there was not a scratch on the lad. How had he been so lucky?
Even
he
was not unscathed. He bore a gash on his arm, that
hopefully would not become infected, and he had other numerous
flesh wounds on his body that still stung. "Ye fared well from the
battle, Alexander, when others did no'," Garran commented,
suspicion crossing his thoughts.

"I was knocked unconscious early on and left
for dead. A bloody dragoon lay on top of me, dead as ever, and so
others thought as much of me, I suppose." Alexander shifted
uneasily, but he kept his gaze locked on him, "When I awoke…" His
voice choked and he swiped a hand at his eyes.

Garran sensed something off kilter with
Alexander's explanation, but the tears that slid down his cousin's
angelic face were real.

"I do not blame ye if ye no' want to go with
me," Alexander said. "But I can't let them butcher anymore people.
I shall die first," Alexander pledged, making Garran feel guilty
for hesitating.

Women and children were involved. How could
he let them be butchered too? Garran felt bone weary and hungry,
but at this point, he didn't care if he lived or died. If it was
death, he may as well die for a worthy cause. "Lead the way,
Alexander."

"Has days without food addled yer brain?"
Rory's hand whipped out to halt his steps. "Counting Alexander, we
are six and Fergus is injured. How can we stop them?"

"We have to try. What if they had yer sister,
Rory? Or Moira? Would ye do nothin' then?" It was probably a low
blow to mention his betrothed when he'd be sick with worry if she
fared well.

Rory ran his hand through his hair with an
exasperating sigh as he digested the possibility of doing nothing
and what the end result would be. "Bullocks! Go on then. Lead us to
bloody hell, young Alexander."

So they went. Even Fergus forced himself to
follow, limping along, but keeping up for the most part.

Along the way, they ran across Donald and a
few others of the MacGillivray clan. They joined them on their
crusade.

Every so often Alexander would look back to
make sure they followed. Garran didn't know why, but his cousin's
behavior put him on edge. The way Alexander twitched and licked his
lips as though he saw a tasty morsel unnerved him.

"What plagues ye, Alexander?" Garran kept
step with his cousin; he wanted answers. The man was keeping
something back.

"Nothin'." He looked away, shielding his
eyes.

They traveled without a torch, only using the
light of the moon for guidance. They could not risk being noticed.
"How much farther?"

"No' much," Alexander murmured. Then pointed.
"There."

They trudged up the hill to peer below to
what awaited them. Garran pulled Alexander back as he crouched
down, hoping no one spotted their movements.

"There are only four men guardin' the barn,"
Alexander told him.

"How many are bein' held hostage?"

"Thirty or so."

Garran waved to the others behind him,
indicating they should split up and surround the enemy.

They moved silently, as they were trained to
do when faced with an enemy. Then he made the shrill battle call of
the MacLaurin clan.

Garran didn't know where he drew the strength
to lift his sword, but he did, as did the others who followed him.
Lives were at stake.

The enemy fell, but to Garran's horror, they
rose again with their wounds healed. "Dear God, 'tis pure evil,
plain and simple," he murmured in disbelief. The enemies' eyes
turned blood red as they attacked, not with a weapon, but with
their teeth. Long and pointed, their teeth drove into the skin like
daggers. Donald had already fallen, the monsters devouring his
flesh. Fergus was next. Garran swung his claymore, taking off the
head of the large man… demon… or whatever he was that had arms the
size of tree trunks. When it fell, it did not rise again, but
decayed at an alarming rate before bursting into a cloud of
dust.

Momentarily stunned, Garran stood there.
Another demon came up behind him and attacked him, slicing his arm
nearly to the bone. Garran stumbled back. He tried to make sense of
what was happening. There had been no women or children in the
barn, but these...fiends. Alexander had led them to this slaughter,
but why? His gaze landed on the wee bastard, who stood to the side
with a woman, watching as if he enjoyed the debauchery.

These fiends weren't fighting men, but
something of nightmares. If stabbed, they bled, but healed almost
immediately. They came at them again, all except the one. Then it
dawned on him why. "Cut off their heads," he shouted as a demon
spiraled through the air toward him, spitting and hissing. Two of
his teeth were elongated, like fangs drawn to strike. Garran swung
his sword, hitting his mark. Blood spurted out of the demon like a
spray of red before the body aged before his eyes, until nothing
but dust was left in its wake.

Though he and his men had gained some ground,
it was useless. There were too many of them and they were bone
weary from hunger and lack of a decent night's sleep.

In the end, he and Rory were the only ones
standing. All the other men who had followed him were dead. The
woman shouted her order to bring them to her. The monsters that
were left did her bidding, forcing Rory and him to kneel before her
as if they were to give her homage.

She circled around them. Her long skirts hid
her feet and gave the illusion she floated above the ground. After
what he witnessed, he would not be surprised if it were true. Her
steps halted in front of Garran. He recoiled from her touch, but
this only made her laugh. "So brave, and to the bitter end,
too."

Rory's body trembled either from fear or from
the deep gash across his chest. Perhaps it was a little of both.
Even Garran was not immune to fear.

Garran met the woman's gaze. She was tall as
a warrior. Her stance told him she could hold her own in a fight
and most likely win. Her hair was dark like a moonless night,
ramrod straight and sleek, making it appear like silk as it waved
in the wind. Her skin was white and smooth and her eyes were a
light blue, a shade he had never seen on any living human being.
She was a vision of beauty, but death followed her and he had seen
enough bloodshed to last a lifetime.

This beautiful creature stared at him, her
gaze traveling over his features as if she were still debating his
fate.

"What are ye?" Garran breathed the question,
his voice raw with emotion.

Her laughter rang in his ears. "Yer
salvation. Ye are both so brave and strong."

She glanced at Rory whose curses had
turned to prayer. God had forsaken them thus far. Garran did not
put faith in
Him
coming to save them now.

"I could use ye both in my army," the woman
said, seeming to give them a choice, but Garran knew there would be
no options save her way or death.

"May the Lord protect us," Rory's voice grew
louder, which infuriated the woman. She lashed out, striking Rory
across the face.

"I offer ye a chance for everlastin' life and
ye pray to yer God."

"Ye are a demon," Rory spat.

She eyed him for a long moment before her
lips curved. Her eyes glowed red and her eyeteeth lengthened to
fine points. Her movements were a blur as she lunged for Rory,
driving her fangs into his throat.

"No!" Garran made a move to stop her, but two
of her minions held him back, their grip unyielding.

Rory fought, clawing at her face, but she
proved too strong. Soon Rory ceased to move at all. She released
him then, letting him fall to the ground. Blood covered her lips
and teeth, her eyes glowing a deeper red. She sliced her wrist with
her fingernail. Then kneeling beside Rory, she cradled his head as
if he were her lover. She let droplets of the red liquid drip into
his parted lips, which had already turned blue-gray with death.

Garran thought her mad. She murdered him.
What could she expect from feeding him her blood?

But then, the unbelievable happened. Rory's
lips moved.

Garran watched in horror as Rory grabbed hold
of the woman's arm and bit down on her, suckling blood as if he
were a babe at his mother's breast.

"Enough, ye fool, ye'll drain me dry." She
shoved Rory away and stood. Garran stared at her and then to his
childhood friend. Rory lived, but it wasn't the kind-hearted soul
who peered back at him. Rory lunged toward Garran hissing and
spitting like a rabid animal. Garran knocked him to the ground
before the woman pulled his friend back, as if he weighed no more
than a small lad.

"No, my pet. Not this one. There will be
others for ye, but this one is to join us."

"I need…" Rory blinked, shaking his head.
Confusion clouded his words, but the fog lifted and a part of his
sanity had returned. "I do no' know what it is I want, but there is
a hunger so strong, gnawing at my insides." Rory met Garran's gaze
with longing. "I hear his heart beatin' like a drum inside my
head." He covered his ears with his hands as if trying to drown out
the sound.

The woman placed her hand on his head,
petting him like a puppy. "There, there my sweet. We shall make it
stop."

Her gaze landed on Garran and he swallowed
back the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. He had no
intentions of becoming a sniveling dog at her feet. He threw his
weight into the minion who held him in check, knocking him off
balance. He took off at a full run, intent on making it over the
ridge.

Only a few more steps and he'd have a chance
of losing them within the shadows and brush, but before he could
take another step, the minion plowed into him, bringing him down.
Bigger and stronger than any human Garran had ever faced, the
demon's fist plowed into his face, beating him until his ears rang.
The demon then dragged him back by his arms, not caring how the
rocks and bramble sliced through his skin on the way. The minion
threw him at the she-devil's feet.

She grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to
look up at her as she bared his throat. With her fingernail, she
caressed his exposed flesh.

"What are ye?" Garran rasped out, but for the
moment, she ignored his question.

"Ye are a strong one, my pet. Ye are afraid.
I can smell it, but I know ye will fight me to yer last breath. I
like that. It excites me." She closed her eyes and moaned in
pleasure, a sound Garran only heard when coupling. Yet this woman
could conjure ecstasy from a scent. Her eyes snapped open and her
light soulless eyes stared at him. "Ye want to know what I am? I am
a Bobhan Sith or as some humans call us, Vampyre."

His eyes widen in disbelief. He knew of the
legends and the warnings his father gave him. "Nay." He shook his
head. "It is no' possible. The Bobhan Sith is a monster for stories
to scare the young lads from wanderin' too far from the keep."

Her wicked laughter made his skin crawl. "So,
ye have heard of my kind?"

"I will no' submit to ye."

"Oh, but the beauty of it is, ye will." Her
hand held him still, her strength that of ten warriors. She took
his throat, piercing through the flesh. He beat at her, trying to
pry her loose, but it was as if she were made of steel. He could
feel his life ebbing away. Pain and a sick feeling of euphoria
overpowered him as he listened to her slurp. His hand fell away,
paralyzed. He was dying and with death, she would bring him back as
a monster like her. He prayed she would drain him dry, so his soul
would be released.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the
sound of gulping. Would it never end? Then, he realized in horror
it was he who drank greedily. Repulsed, but unable to stop himself,
he held onto her wrist and took nourishment. "Enough." She yanked
her arm away and he lurched forward. She chuckled as she knelt down
in front of him, cupping his chin while forcing him to look at her.
"See, my pet, ye are already mine."

Disgusted by her touch, he pulled away.
"Never," but he already knew she had spun her evil web around him
and he was caught. "Damn ye to hell, demon."

A smile slowly spread across her face. "We
are both damned, but ye'll still need to make yer first kill for
the transformation to be complete." She patted his cheek. "Later,
my pet." She then turned away from him and looked to Alexander. "Ye
did well."

"My liege." He knelt before her. His head
bowed in homage. Garran thought he would be ill. He wanted to hate
Alexander for leading them to their death, but how could he fault
him when he too was infected with this she-demon's blood. Already
Garran felt the rage and hunger changing who he once had been, but
then he realized the full impact of the betrayal when Alexander
spoke again.