Renounced: The Shelean Moon, Book Two Page 12

  I need to speak to you, Donny. It’s important. Leira again, now coming through quite clear. He realized the static had all but disappeared. What did she want to speak to him about? Had she changed her mind about them? How was she able to project to him, when he’d been told her projecting was blocked?

  How? I don’t know where you are.

  Her voice was impatient. Neither do I. Even so, we need to talk somehow. You’ve got some explaining to do Mr. Help me…shit, D…help us even. What’s going on? This is scary. Well scary. I’m somewhere I don’t know where—with someone I keep feeling I can’t trust. You’re doing goodness knows what, and my brother and dad aren’t shaking you by the neck for it. Too much doesn’t add up. Now, I can project although I don’t know how long for, and I’ve been told I can’t renounce ’til I do it officially. I need explanations—the biggest from you. Try to explain why you’ve gone over to the Rogues for a start.

  He’d forgotten she still chose to believe he was a Rogue.

  17

  Leira waited impatiently, even though her mum always told her that patience was a virtue. Sadly, it was one she didn’t have and one she didn’t want if it meant not knowing what was going on.

  Donny, you still getting this? Because like I said, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to project. I don’t know if I can even trust you, but hey, I can’t get anyone else, so guess you’ll have to.

  Okay, yeah. Lei, you can trust me with your life. It comes before anything else, even my allegiance to the Sept.

  And to the Rogues? she fired back.

  She didn’t need to be able to sense to get his frustration and realized his sadness regarding her attitude.

  Well tough, I can’t help how I feel. If no one would explain anything clearly, then she’d just make up her own mind up about things. And as far as she was concerned, Donny had gone over—or had he? Leira remembered all the hints, the things she had deliberately ignored, and she knew she had a lot to think about and decide on. When I can think straight and make sure Struan is out of my mind.

  Lei, you still there? What do you want to talk about?

  Truth and lies—right and wrong—and Melinde.

  Melinde? Where does the praying mantis come in all this?

  So, Donny wasn’t sure about her either.

  That, Leira thought, is one more thing to worry about.

  Good question. Wherever I am belongs to her, it seems. Apart from that—where do you fit in—and Troy, heck for that matter where do any of us? I’m so confused I put my shoes on the wrong feet this morning and didn’t even notice.

  She heard his laugh, and then his voice became concerned.

  Lei? Everything I do, I do it for you…Shit, and I don’t even like New Found Glory.

  Um, Donny…That’s just a cover version. The original artist is Bryan Adams. My dad listens to him. Er…why are we quoting corny lyrics? Because if we are, how about “Wishing and Hoping” by The Merseybeats? Ahh…now I’m in the sixties. Blame dad for that as well.

  Now, she felt his impatience. Well, she was babbling.

  Sorry, I’m a bit worked up. Right, fast—before either my projecting is stopped again, or something else weird happens—answer.

  He did.

  Truthfully? Okay, I’ll make it brief, and hope to our gods you can read between the lines. What I’m doing, what I’ve done, is all for Shalea—not for myself, on my oath. Er, and who the hell is Troy?

  He went silent. Leira realized he expected her to say something, but she didn’t know what. Then the truth hit her. Resolutely, she concentrated on Donny, just him. No wayward thoughts, no way for Struan to sneak into her mind.

  Oh, duh, you utter idiot, she thought. What a wally.

  Dad. The Patriarch, the elders. You’re gonna be Brios’s second. Why the sh…didn’t I think of that? You’re not even pale grey. Not even a whiter shade of pale.

  Aargh…Lei, no more songs. Quickly, I’m not sure about Melinde. All I do know is she’s half got her claws into Rach’s dad. Right, for where you are? As well as her house on Loch Katrine, she’s got a cottage on Loch Ard. Maybe you’re there…Because, you’d recognize her other house from all that bother with Rach and the Rogues. So just be careful, please. We don’t know where Struan is, or who’s working with him. You might want to renounce, but he seems to see you as a threat to something. And you might not want to have anything to do with me. That’s your choice. However, you can’t—and won’t—stop me caring, Leira. My promise and my oath. Got to go, take care.

  That was it. Leira felt her head go fuzzy, saw streaks of blue and gold in front of her eyes and then nothing. She stood in front of the window and looked out at the grey loch. Loch Ard? She had no idea. What she did know was that she wanted out. Right or not, she didn’t feel happy where she was. The problem was how could she do it?

  She considered her options. She didn’t know where she was, whom she could trust, or how to go about sorting things. Troy was still nowhere to be seen, and Melinde had left a few hours earlier telling her she’d see her later and not to worry. Though, anyone in their right mind would worry. Especially when that niggle of suspicion was more than just nipping at her—and at that moment it wasn’t just nipping or biting, it was clawing and snarling as well.

  Hello, Leira. Go to the lochside. There’s a boat for you. Do it now. Hurry. Now.

  Melinde? Why was she projecting? Where was she? Leira wanted answers, and she wasn’t getting them. Melinde sounded worried.

  Leira, you need to go. Get to the boat, hurry. Do it now. She sounded agitated. Leira bit her lip…what to do?

  Just go. Do it and take heed. You must take heed.

  Who on earth was that? That didn’t sound like Melinde. The projecting was fading and the voice was faint and scratchy. It could have been anyone.

  Donny? Rach? Mum?

  No one answered. The house began to shake, and the glass vases on the table began to rattle the water in them as they splashed out and onto the polished surface. Something crashed against the wall. There was a gust of wind, and it howled down the chimney and blasted smoke and soot into the room. The windows shook, and the oil lamps flickered.

  Get out, get out, get out. Definitely not Melinde this time. The voice was younger, higher pitched.

  Flames from the logs—that until now had glowed bright and safely in the grate— flickered and licked across the hearth. Streams of blue, red, and gold fire made their way towards her and danced as they advanced steadily across the floor.

  She looked at them, mesmerized by their beauty.

  Go, the loch is your friend.

  The waves looked awfully high, but it seemed it might well be her only option. The flames circled the room, and they sang as they crackled and popped.

  The window was her escape route—if she could open it. She pushed at the latch. There was a crack. The glass splintered and shattered, and she felt herself thrown through it by an unseen hand.

  She landed on the ground with a thump that took her breath away. The air was hot, and the grass smoldered. Smoke hit her throat, and she coughed. Definitely, time to move.

  Move, Go, go, go. Waiting. A soft, Scottish, female voice urged her. Save yourself.

  As she peered through the ever-deepening smoke, she saw a small boat bounce in the waves. Its gunwale dipped and rose on the swell. She got seasick in a bath if she swirled the water too fast. How on earth would she cope?

  Looking behind her—watching grass that hadn’t missed a day of rain for weeks burst into flame—she decided she hadn’t much choice—seasick or scorched.

  Whoever that last, almost unheard, projection had been from, Leira reckoned it was sound advice. She ran. With each step she took forward, the flames seemed to leap into the place she had left. By the time her feet hit water, Leira felt as if she’d just run the four-minute mile. She could feel the heat on her legs, imagine her hair scorched and her skin blackened and shriveled. The pain increased and her skin turned…

  Wet. T
hank the gods.

  Not only was she now paddling as fast as she could—but as normal Scottish weather had come through again—it was raining. Big, fat drops saturated her skin and doused the flames.

  All of a sudden her legs felt wobbly. She grabbed the edge of the boat and climbed over the rail to fall onto the bottom as her chest heaved. She was wet, scared, and wanted her mum.

  In your dreams, Leira. No Mum. No Donny. No brother. No Shalea. Watch and learn. You’re all mine now—as you should be.

  She turned around in the boat, screamed and tried to scramble to her feet—only to fall over the side. The last thing she saw was Struan’s gloating face as he leaned over the side of the boat and grabbed her.

  18

  Well, that was a non-event. Donny had finally helped Brios home, only to be kindly, but firmly, shown to a guest bedroom by Shala with the firm command to sleep. To his amazement…he did. He’d been convinced he would stay awake replaying the night’s activities and going over his projecting with Leira. Instead, he’d fallen asleep instantly and slept until he woke with a start as the sunlight crept across the window and fell on his face. He was sure he’d been dreaming something strange about Leira and boats. But he knew that would more than likely be a nightmare. Leira didn’t do boats—even a pedal boat at the safari park made her go white and want to throw up. What was even more mystifying was the certainty that it was something that hadn’t happened yet. Was it an omen? The more he tried to sense, the more his head ached. It was no good. If he was meant to sense, he would.

  Donny threw back the duvet and headed for the shower. While the hot water pounded on him, he examined his bruises. They were purple and angry looking, and there were a couple of burn marks on his arms from the sparks. No wonder he ached. The last twenty-four hours had been action packed, to say the least. He wondered if he’d managed to convince Leira that he was one of the good guys. There hadn’t been any more projections from her…none…which in itself seemed strange. He’d have thought after all that had happened, he’d have heard something.

  There was a knock on the door as he dressed in yet another pair of Brios’s trackies. At this rate, he was going to have to start keeping a set of clothes there.

  “Yeah? It’s okay, I’m decent.” There was a laugh, the door opened, and Shala came into the room. She held a mug. Steam rose from the contents.

  “Coffee,” she announced. “Marok made it. He’d like you to be downstairs in ten minutes. He’s got to go out, but he needs to talk to you before he leaves.”

  Donny took the mug with a murmur of thanks and nodded. “No problem. How’s Bri?’

  “Still asleep, and will stay asleep for another few hours at least. Herbal induced, all natural, but well needed.” Her eyes twinkled. “How did you sleep, Donny?”

  That explained it. Shala was a natural healer, and she’d made sure they both drank a cup of tea before they’d been told to get some sleep.

  “Very well, thank you. A few weird dreams, but I feel fine now.”

  “Anything I should know?”

  “Nah, it’s all good.” He didn’t think it was worth talking about his dream of Leira. Not yet anyway.

  “Fine, well, Marok, is in the kitchen cooking bacon and eggs, I think. I’ll see you down there.” She went out. Her long multi-colored skirt swirled around her legs as she left the room.

  So that was why his sensing was suppressed. Donny laughed softly. If Marok and Shala had decreed it, he’d have to wait until they changed their minds. Nothing he could do would alter things.

  It seemed strange to be in the Parde kitchen sitting at the big, oak table without either Brios or Leira there.

  “Okay.” Marok had waited until they’d all finished eating. “Let’s have it. All of it, even Leira projecting to you.”

  What the… How the hell does he know about that? Ooh, duh, of course, he’ll have allowed it.

  “Everything?” he asked cautiously.

  “Everything. Brief and bullet point style if you want, but nothing left out.”

  Donny thought about his evening, took a deep breath, leaned forward, and started to talk.

  Ten minutes later he sat back and took a mouthful of cold coffee. Yuk, shoot. I hate cold coffee. And why is Marok staring at me like that? Oh shit, yup. I forgot to mention that strange sort of dream.

  “Something else,” he said slowly. “Not a projection, not a dream exactly either. I don’t really know what it was. It was Leira and a boat. Weird though, I know it hasn’t happened yet.”

  Marok nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve gained your next level of gifts, Donny. We feel you and Brios need to progress as fast as possible. This was a future sight. Not something you can totally change, so don’t think you’re about to make your footie team win. Other things though? Perhaps you can affect them. Unfortunately, not until they actually occur. Oh and by the way, not the footie.”

  “Pity,” Donny said dryly. They could do with a boost.”

  “Sorry. Now back to this business. You had no idea of the time scale?”

  Donny shook his head. “No, nothing else, just that very brief glimpse. I don’t know where it was or anything—just a tiny boat, big waves, and Lei—I think. It was so quick and so hazy that to be honest, it could have been anywhere, even on a ride at the fair. I couldn’t tell. Does this mean I’m not up to scratch on the future sight thing yet?” He smiled to show he wasn’t seriously worried. “Do I need to study more?”

  “Sadly, it’s not that easy,” Marok replied. “It’s because of where Leira is now, the fact that someone is trying to stop her communicating, and the fact she’s in the middle of renouncing. At least she got something to you. I don’t know why it didn’t come to her mum or me. I can’t get a handle on anything around her at the moment. It’s worrying, very worrying.” He paused before he continued. “My apologies, Donny, but can I suggest you go home? Not because we want to get rid of you, but because your new skills will be strongest there. Do you want a lift? I’m on my way to Glasgow in a few minutes to see if I can get more information there.”

  Donny decided fresh air and a chance to think would be better. Five minutes later he was walking down the drive, then along the lane to the village.

  All of a sudden he couldn’t move. Talk about déjà vu. There’s a hell of a lot of being unable to move at the moment. What the f…

  What? Where am I? What’s this? Water, a stream, trees, and shit, the Ben’s not far.

  He could see the outline of Ben Lomond mountain clearly. Its lower slopes looked almost near enough to touch.

  No way have I walked to the Ben. Hell, I haven’t been up it for ages, so, whose nightmare am I in now?

  Donny realized he was lying on his side.

  Sway her. Show her. It’s up to you now. Change it. Change her. Help her. My hands are tied, but you can do it. I’ll be watching out for Leira. You sort Ali.

  Who the hell are you? Okay, you saved my life earlier, but that’s no reason not to introduce yourself. Damned rude.

  A rustle of leaves as the wind danced through the trees was his only answer.

  “Anyone there?” That came out loud and clear, even if his question wasn’t answered.

  Okay, then, I’ll just go. Well…I would if my legs would let me. There’s a hell of a lot of witchy tricks going on at the moment. Who the hell do I know who’s a witch?

  “Who’s the coward?” he spoke to the clearing and noticed the small bubble of water as it rose through the rocks, the bunch of wildflowers growing in a crevasse, and the trees with their leaves beginning to turn for autumn. “Who brought me here and isn’t man enough to tell me why?”

  “I did, and I am all woman.”

  The voice came from behind the boulder. He swung around and for the first time saw the hieroglyphics carved on its surface. Before he could check them out, a figure walked around the side of the huge stone dressed in a long, red cloak. A hood hid all features.

  “I brought you here to my special place. It
’s our time now.”

  “What? What sort of rubbish is this? Our time? That’s a load of crap. There is no us, never has been, never will be.” Donny was incensed. Whoever spoke was as his gran used to say, off their trolley. Quite mad. “You’re delusional. How did we get here anyway? For that matter, where the hell is here?”

  “Not hell. My place—our place.”

  He shook his head as the figure approached him. “Never that. How many times do I have to say it? No our place, no us. I have my other half even if she doesn’t want me. She’s my soul. You know that. Hell, you’re not even a Shalean.”

  How did he know that? Donny wondered what other skills he’d gained because he was damned sure he did understand his what…abductor…was not a Shalean.

  “No, maybe not. However, I am a witch.”

  19

  Leira spluttered. The water was cold and tasted vile. She’d thought Scottish water was supposed to be soft and pure. This wasn’t. It was incredibly hard when you hit it with a thump. Looking at Struan’s face as she was hauled upwards, she thought she’d rather trust the water than him. Not that she had any say in the matter. She was no lightweight, but he pulled her back into the boat as if she weighed no more than a feather, and she could do nothing about it. The waves that had been so high before began to soften and calm until the loch was once more glassily smooth. They were probably the only things around there that were calm. Struan’s face showed malevolent satisfaction. A scar on his left cheek was vivid and angry. She didn’t remember seeing it before. It looked a lot like the Shalean sign for traitor.

  If that’s what it is, he deserves it. Leira felt satisfaction, murderous rage—and sick.

  “You stupid ass.” She was incensed and showed it. “What the eff are you playing at, eh? Sneaking around, nipping into my mind, scaring the life out of me. Grr, you, you! Ahh, if it wasn’t for the fact I’m about to throw up, I’d push you over the side, you moron. You stupid, little, slimy, moron. Get me out of this boat now, or I will be sick. Probably over you.” Her voice rose with every word until she was practically screaming at him.