Midnight's Temptation

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

There was a huge explosion of magic that made Aisley’s eyes fly open. The selmyr hovered over the clearing in their gray mist, as if waiting to begin their smorgasbord.

“Aisley.”

Her skin tingled at the sound of Phelan’s voice so close. She bit back a cry as agony swallowed her when he rolled her onto her back, supporting her in his arms as he sat on the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, noting he tamped down his god and all that glorious gold skin was gone. “For everything.”

His blue-gray eyes held no emotion. “You saved me.”

“I couldn’t watch you die.”

“The child?”

She glanced away. “My daughter.”

“Created with Wallace’s magic,” Aiden said as he knelt near Aisley’s feet. “I heard everything.”

“I need to speak to your Druids.”

Phelan shook his head. “In a moment. You’re injured. Tell me where so I can heal you.”

He didn’t let her answer before a gold claw cut open his wrist and his blood dripped into what she suspected was a rather nasty wound in her gut. The pain was ebbing away. It cleared her mind, but she knew it had nothing to do with Phelan’s blood and everything to do with the fact she was dying.

“We don’t have long,” said a female from out of Aisley’s line of sight, her voice clipped with anxiety.

Aisley swallowed. “I need to talk to them, Phelan.”

He gave a nod and several more faces came into view. She knew who they were from the red book Declan had created and Jason had used. Yet, she’d never met any of them except for Laura.

“It will take the magic of every Druid here. Do you have anything to contain the selmyr?” she asked.

Phelan’s gaze jerked to her face. “You know who can perform the spell?”

“Yes.”

A moment later Fallon stood behind Phelan holding a wooden box. “This is what they were in originally.”

“Perfect,” she said. It still held magic from the first time, so it would do wonderfully to trap the selmyr.

Phelan’s grip on her tightened. “Why is your wound no’ healing?” he asked angrily.

Aisley placed her hand over his arm and the cut that had already healed. “I wanted to tell you who I was from the beginning. But being with you made me happier than I’ve ever been. I was selfish to take that time and lie to you.”

“Nay,” he said with a shake of his head, his dark hair falling on either side of his face. He jerked his head around. “Sonya! I need Sonya!”

Aisley knew her time was short. Unimaginable torture awaited her in Hell but being in Phelan’s arms made it easier to bear.

“Who can contain the selmyr?” Charon asked.

Aisley swallowed as tears gathered. She couldn’t look away from Phelan. He was all that was handsome and good and brave. She hated to leave him, but by doing so she would save him and the others.

It was Aiden who answered for her. “She’s the one.”

Phelan brushed her hair away from her face. “That can no’ be. Corann said the spell would likely claim the Druid’s life.”

“I’m already dead,” she told him.

“I can save you.”

“No. It’s what I tried to tell you. Jason made sure of that. No amount of magic, or even your amazing blood, can help me.”

Phelan felt as if the weight of the world rested on his chest. He couldn’t draw breath, couldn’t wrap his head around what Aisley was telling him.

“What did he do?”

Her smile was sad. “A spell to prevent anyone but him from healing me.”

“It’s just one wound,” Sonya said as she hurried up. “We should be able to combine our magic and get past Jason’s.”

Phelan knew by the way Aisley wouldn’t meet his gaze that it was more than one wound. “What did he do to you?”

“Tortured her,” Aiden said. “Bringing her to the brink of death. Repeatedly. He said he’d do the same to me once he won this battle.”

Phelan couldn’t wait to get his hands on Wallace. He was going to flay the skin from his body an inch at a time.

“I’m running out of time,” Aisley said.

He looked around helplessly. “There has to be a way.”

“The selmyr are breaking through my shield,” Isla said tightly. “We need to do something now.”

Aisley’s fingers, stuck at different angles, touched his face. “You know what I have to do.”

“It willna kill you. Do you hear me? Doona let it. Stay alive so we can get around Wallace’s spell.”

She smiled, her fawn-colored eyes swimming in tears. “Put the box on the ground and keep everyone away from it.”

“Aisley,” he urged.

“I’ll do my best.”

It was all he was going to get from her, but Phelan knew it wasn’t enough. Isla’s shield began to crack. The selmyr would once more descend upon them. Everything hinged on Aisley.

Something dripped from his arm that was holding her. He looked down to see it was blood. The idea of someone as beautiful and wonderful as Aisley tortured made his soul and his god bellow in fury.

He looked up as the mist began to pour through the crack in the shield.

“I know you won’t believe this,” Aisley said. “But I love you.”

Phelan looked down at her, unsure of what to say. He’d have time to think of it after she was healed. Then he would know how to respond.

Everyone moved away as the spell tumbled from her lips. Everyone but him, that is. He couldn’t make himself release her. There was no magic inside him to aid her, but he would give her whatever she needed.

The ground began to vibrate rapidly, the leaves raining down from the trees. Phelan looked at Camdyn, but the Warrior shook his head to let him know he’d had nothing to do with it.

Aisley’s magic grew and expanded with each word of the spell. It was then he understood she was causing the disturbance.

Phelan watched the mist pause as if unsure what was going on. When they tried to retreat, Aisley sealed the crack in Isla’s shield trapping the selmyr inside.

The Druids formed a circle and linked hands, offering their magic alongside Aisley’s. The tremors were so violent, it felt as if the world was about to break in two.

Phelan held Aisley close. The spell fell faster from her lips, coinciding with the vibrations.

Several Warriors surrounded the Druids while the MacLeods kept watch over Britt. But everyone had their eyes on the mist. The selmyr were desperate to get out of the shield. The mist rammed the shield again and again, but it held.

The sheer amount of magic coming from Aisley made Phelan’s skin tingle and need course through him. How he missed holding her, seeing her. Touching her.

“Phelan.”

He looked at her, sure he’d heard her whisper his name. But her eyes were closed and the spell still underway. There was a shout as the mist dove at the Druids on its way to Aisley.

Suddenly her eyes flew open, her body tensed as she finished the spell.

The screams of thousands of selmyr filled the air as the mist was forced into the box. Ronnie hurried over to it and slammed the lid closed when the last of the mist was inside.

“It’s over,” Phelan said and looked at Aisley with a smile. That smile fell when he felt the magic draining from her as fast as her blood. “Fight, Aisley.”

She tried to smile as her eyes closed. And she took her last breath.

“Aisley,” he said and shook her. “Fight, dammit. Fight!”

“She’s gone.”

Phelan looked up to find the Fae woman standing before him. She didn’t wear a sassy smile this time. The sadness in her swirling silver eyes said it all.

He swallowed and pleaded, “Please help her.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” The Fae knelt next to Aisley and rested her hand atop hers before she also touched Phelan. “She saved you. She saved all of you.”

“And there’s nothing you can do?”

She shook her head of long blue-black hair. “Aisley knew by doing the spell it would take the last of her life.”

“So she’s in Hell now?” Phelan asked, hating to even think about it.

The Fae rose in one graceful motion. “There is much left for you to do, prince. I’m going to ensure Wallace can’t bother any of you for a few days so you can bury Aisley. It’s all I can do. I’m sorry.”

Phelan didn’t watch her disappear. His gaze was on Aisley. Bury her? He wouldn’t bury her. The thought of her locked underground as she had been at Wallace’s turned his stomach. Her spirit needed to soar.

He gathered her limp body in his arms and stood. Then he turned and started toward Ferness.

* * *

“How is he?” Hayden asked Charon.

Charon shook his head as he stared at his whisky. Phelan had been locked in the storeroom with Aisley’s body for hours, refusing to come out or allow anyone in.

“Is the pyre ready?”

Hayden poured himself a glass of whisky and sank onto the couch. “Aye. Just.”

“I should go tell him.”

“No need. Isla is taking care of that.”

Charon frowned at Hayden. “Was that a good idea?”

“My wife is stubborn. She also yearns for Phelan’s forgiveness.” He scratched his chin. “Isla was never fully drough. Aisley was. How does a drough fight against everything they are?”

“I wish I knew. Maybe it would help Phelan heal from this.”

“Will he ever heal from this?”

Charon drained his glass. “Doubtful.”

* * *

Phelan sat staring at Aisley’s body. He cleaned the blood and dirt from her, changed her into a long black gauzy dress he’d gotten from Laura, and combed her midnight locks.

Never again would he look into her fawn-colored eyes or run his fingers through the silky strands of her hair. Never again would he feel her satiny skin or hear her scream in pleasure. Never again would the sound of her laughter brighten his day, nor would he trip over her discarded shoes.

Never again would he feel her magic or know the taste of her kiss.

“I should’ve listened to your explanation,” he told her. “You tried to tell me, but I couldna get past the idea that you were drough. You were running from Wallace. I knew you feared whoever it was, and I wish I’d have known then. I would’ve never let him get to you.”

He blinked and felt something drop onto his cheek. Phelan swiped at it and found a tear. The last time he’d cried was after he’d been chained in Deirdre’s prison as a young lad.

Phelan squeezed his eyes closed as he recalled the wounds and injuries he’d found on Aisley’s body as he washed her. How she had been able to even stand, much less stay alive, he would never know.

“I was too afraid to admit how much I cared for you. What a fool I’ve been. I never got to tell you that I lo … I love you, Aisley. And now you’re gone.”

He waited for her to sit up and tell him what an idiot he was. Phelan was prepared to grovel at her feet, anything, if only she’d come back to him.

There was a soft knock on the door. A touch of magic could be felt. He knew of only one Druid who would dare approach him at that moment.

“Come in, Isla.”

The door creaked open and she stepped inside before closing it softly behind her. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Nay.”

“I’m sorry, Phelan. I truly am.”

Emotion he’d been holding back choked him. He nodded, but didn’t try and speak.

Isla stood beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Aisley looks beautiful.”

Phelan rose and walked to Aisley. “The pyre is ready, is it no’?”

“Yes. It doesn’t have to be done now. We can wait.”

“She deserves to be set free.”

Phelan was surprised when Isla laid a small handful of wildflowers beneath Aisley’s hands, which were clasped over her stomach. He lifted his eyes to Isla and found her crying silent tears.

“I forgive you for your part in what happened to me,” he said. At her surprised expression he jerked his chin to Aisley. “She told me to let go of the past. She was right. I should’ve done it long ago.”

Phelan carefully lifted Aisley one last time. He was tempted to do as Isla suggested and wait, but he knew it was wrong. He would be staring at a body, not the soul that had once been housed within it.

Phelan followed Isla through the forest to a spot near a small stream. On either side of the path were Warriors and Druids from the castle. And to his surprise, he spotted Rhys, Constantine, Banan and Jane, and Guy and Elena.

The pyre was built up over the ground so that Phelan had to take two steps so he could place Aisley’s body on top. He smoothed out her gown and hair and placed one last kiss on her lips.

“Be free,” he whispered.

When Phelan turned around, Charon was waiting at the bottom of the steps with a torch. Phelan took it as he walked down. Before he changed his mind, Phelan thrust the torch into the bottom of the pyre and walked back to the group.

The hardest thing he ever did was watch the fire grow, the flames getting closer and closer to his beloved Aisley.