Last Wish (Highland Magic #4)

For a moment his words barely registered then I stopped my panicked scan of the room and turned to him, gaping. The same Truth-Telling Gift which buzzed through Molly’s body told me that he was speaking the truth. Things were worse than I thought.

‘Whose Lands are closest to the Veil?’ Aifric asked softly.

‘Adair!’ someone shouted.

He nodded grimly. ‘Yes, Adair.’

Seriously? Now I was being damned because of geography? I threw my hands up in disgust but, because of the handcuffs, the gesture was lost on my audience although those on the front row did pull back as if they were scared that I’d attack them.

‘You will have noticed,’ Aifric continued, ‘that the MacQuarries are not here. They were attacked only two days ago. There were…’ he closed his eyes for a brief second as if in pain ‘…some deaths. Tipsania Scrymgeour’s father, whom we know Integrity Adair despised, and Morna Carnegie.’

The entire Carnegie Clan jerked in horror. They weren’t alone; Morna had been well liked by everyone. The Bull was dead as well but even this lot knew he had been an oaf. It was Morna’s passing which caused the real dismay.

‘Integrity,’ Aifric said, looking me directly in the eyes, ‘was her death a result of your actions?’

It seemed as if the congregation was holding its breath. That absolute bastard. He didn’t know that by stealing her Gift, I had hastened her passing but he did know that I believed she would still be alive if I hadn’t asked her to go to the MacQuarrie Lands. In that sense, she was indeed dead because of me. What answer could I give?

The Sidhe were growing agitated with my silence. ‘Answer him!’ several of the yelled. ‘Say the words, you Adair bitch!’

Aifric knitted his fingers together. ‘I’ll ask again. Was Morna Carnegie’s death a result of what you did?’

‘Yes.’ My voice was barely audible but it didn’t matter. The room erupted and at least five Sidhe leapt out of their chairs and lunged towards me. Aifric blocked their path but they seemed determined to rip me to shreds. They were like a group of baying hounds – and they were baying for my blood. The noise was deafening. Aifric turned to face me, making sure no one else could see his expression. There was a glimmer of triumph in his eyes and a sly smile on his mouth. Then his face smoothed over into the calm fa?ade of the benevolent Steward once again.

‘People! Calm down! She will answer for her crimes in prison!’

There were shouts in response. ‘No! She deserves to die!’

‘Execute her!’

The call rippled round the room as if we were in a football stadium. At this stage, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they started a Mexican wave. The chant rose and rose, ‘Kill her. Kill her. Kill her.’

I straightened my shoulders. There was no sensible way out of this. I would have to rip the Gifts from as many of these Sidhe as possible and damn the consequences. I didn’t know what I’d be getting but I’d have to pray to get at least some magic I could use ? and that taking it and using it to serve me wouldn’t send Taylor to his grave. I drew in a deep breath and prepared ? then the doors of the church were flung open and a fireball was launched across everyone’s heads, slamming into the wall just beyond Aifric’s head. The chanting stopped immediately as Byron strode down the aisle, followed by Jamie and Angus.

‘What the fuck is going on here?’

Aifric recovered from his shock in record time. ‘Byron! You’re supposed to be getting ready for your wedding.’

With his kilt swinging angrily from side to side and a crisp white shirt open at the neck, Byron marched up to his father until they were barely inches apart. ‘What are you doing?’

If Aifric was concerned about his son’s anger, he didn’t show it. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt your preparations,’ he said calmly. ‘You shouldn’t be worrying about all this.’ I could see the cogs turning in his mind; he realised the situation was slipping away from him and he needed to bring it back under control. I held my breath. What was he going to do?

I jerked forward to try and warn Byron but Aifric’s arm shot out and held me in place. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, my son has always had a soft spot for Integrity. It would hurt him immeasurably to know of her crimes—’

‘She hasn’t committed any crimes,’ Byron snarled. ‘The only criminal here is you.’

A loud gasp reverberated around the room. Aifric’s hand went to his mouth. ‘Has she bewitched you? Son…’

Byron stepped away and glanced at me. The harsh light in his eyes softened for a heartbeat and then he re-focused and pointed at his father before addressing the congregation. ‘Aifric Moncrieffe, the Steward of the Highlands and my father, killed Gale and Coira Adair and destroyed the Adair Clan.’ Two old biddies in the second row clutched each other but everyone else seemed frozen. ‘On several occasions he tried to murder Integrity Adair. Jamie’s psychometry Gift will prove it. My father has plotted against all of us.’ Byron held up the letter we’d discovered in the Fomori demon’s pocket. ‘This is a petition for peace from the Fomori demons. The three who brought it died at his hands.’ He met his father’s eyes. ‘The only danger to the Highlands is you.’ He gestured at Molly. ‘Am I telling the truth?’

She squeaked and nodded. Aifric, however, merely tutted. ‘You think you’re telling the truth because this woman has manipulated you into believing her. We have proved that she is the evil one, not me. All of these people will back me up. In fact, even Integrity will back me up.’

From the corner of my eye, I saw Bob high above the heads of the stunned Sidhe. He was flapping his arms wildly in a panic. My stomach dropped. What now?

Byron exploded. ‘Bullshit!’

Aifric drew back and gestured upwards. I saw Taylor on the balcony above us, propped up between two burly goons. His shirt was soaked in blood and I wasn’t sure he was conscious. Byron, realising something was amiss, followed my gaze but Taylor and the two guards had already vanished. At the same time as Byron looked up, Aifric opened his palm, flashing a concealed blade. It wasn’t me he was threatening, however, it was his own son.

The magic that prevented me from speaking was lifted abruptly. ‘Speak, Integrity.’ I didn’t need to hear the warning tone in Aifric’s voice to know what would happen if I didn’t say what he wanted.

Rage spread through me, burning my body with more force than Byron’s Pyrokinesis ever could and I trembled with the potential for violence. There wasn’t anything Aifric wouldn’t do to get his own way; he’d slaughter his own son right here in front of just about every Sidhe in Scotland if that was what it took.