Last Wish (Highland Magic #4)

‘You have been a naughty, naughty girl.’ His nostrils flared. ‘I have a little gathering planned. My son and heir is getting married on the Isle of Muck in a matter of days.’ He looked at Tipsania coyly and she all but snarled in response. ‘Everyone who’s anyone will be there. And not just Sidhe.’ Aifric licked his lips. ‘I’ve made sure of that.’ He cracked his fingers. ‘You see, you were becoming a folk hero. The young orphan who battled against the evil Sidhe empire and who tragically lost her life in the process. People are talking about you on the streets. There are gatherings using your name to galvanise the sheep into action against us. I can’t have that.’ He made a moue of disgust.

‘You can’t control everyone,’ I told him flatly. ‘You’re not the respected leader you think you are.’

Aifric laughed. ‘Do you think I care about respect? I’m not a school teacher. I’m delivering this country from evil. I’m Scotland’s saviour.’

I stared at him. He was telling the truth; he really believed that about himself. Maybe he wasn’t just psychotic, maybe he was plain insane.

Aifric stepped towards me. ‘Right now you’re a martyr. The world will think differently – the Highlands will know differently – after I tell them the truth. Instead of being the figurehead that encouraged a bloody coup, you’ll be the most reviled name in history. I’ll make sure of it. People will soon know who the true hero is.’

‘You?’ I scoffed.

Aifric didn’t even blink. ‘Me.’ He inhaled deeply and looked around. ‘Everyone knows that Clan MacQuarrie has more than a touch of the moon about it. You will all remain here behind your pointless borders. You will not communicate with anyone. You will not come to the wedding and you will not get in my way.’

‘And why the hell should we do that?’ Chieftain MacQuarrie growled.

Aifric beamed, as if he were delivering wonderful news. ‘If you don’t, I will raze your Clan to the ground. Do this, keep quiet and you might live to see next year.’

‘We’ll do no such thing! We could never trust you anyway.’

I turned round and met his eyes. The MacQuarrie Clan had sworn fealty to me and they would do what I asked. Yes, Aifric was lying; he’d find a way to destroy this Clan one way or another, no matter what we decided today. But if they didn’t give him at least the illusion of passive agreement, he would destroy them right now. There was no choice to make. ‘Agreed,’ I said quietly.

Chieftain MacQuarrie opened his mouth. He would have disagreed but something in my expression gave him pause. ‘I’ve got this,’ I told him. I looked at Angus. He looked almost as sick as I felt. ‘Bob,’ I mouthed silently.

Angus swallowed and nodded slightly to show he understood and I relaxed slightly. I knew Angus: there was no way he’d permit Bob or the others to mount a kind of rescue without him. Even if Aifric killed me right now, Angus would make sure that Bob’s indenture, such as it was, passed to him or someone on our team. If I didn’t live to fight another day, they would.

‘There,’ I said to Aifric, ‘you’ve got what you wanted after all.’

His lip curled. ‘Somehow I don’t feel I can trust you.’ He pointed at Tipsania. ‘I want her too.’

Tipsania was an independent being and I couldn’t tell her what to do, I could only hope that she understood there were other factors in play. We weren’t giving up entirely, not yet. I swallowed and looked at her, expecting her to flatly refuse. Her eyes drifted from Morna’s body to me and then back to Aifric. She tossed her head. ‘It would be my pleasure,’ she said loudly.

I sensed Taylor stiffen. Hell, even I was taken aback and I knew she was lying.

‘I never wanted to be with these dirty outcasts,’ she continued. ‘I want to be the wife of the next Steward. It’s what my father wanted for me.’

Considering her father was lying dead in front of her, she did a damned good job of dissembling. From the expression on Aifric’s face, he wasn’t buying her act, regardless of how believable she appeared. All the same, I inwardly applauded her for trying. Tipsania understood the machinations required to get what she wanted – she’d had all her life to perfect that attitude. No doubt if all this ended as Aifric wanted it to, she’d find a way to worm herself back into his good books, not because she was a bad person but because she understood what survival took. That thought scratched at me.

She marched ahead, her spine ramrod straight. She didn’t glance at me as she passed. When she reached Aifric and his goons, he patted her hand. ‘My condolences on the passing of your father.’

For the briefest moment, her eyes widened. Realising that she was on the verge of smacking the Steward in the face, I intervened. ‘You’ve got Tipsy for your son. The MacQuarries will stay here and stay quiet. I will come with you and participate in whatever bullshit farce you’ve got planned.’ My mouth flattened. ‘You win.’

Aifric examined me like I was a bug under a microscope. There was an odd light behind his eyes. ‘Not quite,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m still not convinced I know everything that you’re capable of and I want to make sure you’re not going to stray from my plan.’

‘You’ve got what you came for.’ I stepped forward, holding my hands in front of me. ‘Go ahead. Tie me up. I’ll be good, I promise.’

Aifric held up a finger. ‘I’m not sure you will be.’ He beckoned and the nearest machine-gun toting goon peeled off, striding over to stand next to me.

‘What do you call a man holding a machine gun?’ I asked. He gazed back at me impassively. ‘Sir.’ I managed a smile. ‘See? I’m not going to do anything stupid.’ I glanced at Aifric.

He smirked. ‘I know.’ He raised a second finger. This time it wasn’t pointing at me, it was pointing at Taylor.

Panic overtook me. ‘No, wait!’ I dug down into myself, drawing on all the available magic I had left preparing to use it in one go, even if I didn’t know how it would work. It was too late. The goon next to me raised his gun and brought it down on my skull just as there was a short burst of gunfire. I heard Taylor scream in agony and the world slid to black.





Chapter Thirteen


My mouth felt like sawdust. Every bone, muscle and sinew in my body was screaming out in agony and it felt like there was a duck-egg sized lump on the back of my head. I moaned and opened my eyes. Even though the light here was dim, it was still painful.

‘You’re okay,’ rumbled a gruff voice.

I winced and slowly turned round. Candy. ‘Are we at the Cru…’ realising that once I’d begun, I could barely speak.

‘No, we’re being moved somewhere.’

I sat up and everything swam until I felt like I was on the verge of passing out again. I lay down again hastily, pressing my palms against the large metal bars underneath me for balance. The room continued to sway.

‘Boat,’ I whispered. Candy grunted in affirmation. We had to be on our way to the Isle of Muck. Everything came flooding back to me in a rush of images. Taylor’s scream reverberated round my head. No. Just … no.

‘I’ve been told to tell you,’ Candy said, ‘that the old man is alive.’ His voice was flat; he was apparently repeating the words verbatim. ‘But he is wounded and requires medical attention. In order to ensure that you do as you are told, he will remain in that condition until after that wedding.’

I heaved in a breath, my fingernails curling into my hands and digging painfully into my flesh. He wasn’t dead. Taylor wasn’t dead.