Page 8 of Darro

Don’t you want to clear the air about all the dead people connected to your property, Mr. Beaumont?

I read about the FBI agent who died while on her way to the castle. Do you think someone helped her drive off that cliff?

Grace Johansen’s agency is demanding a reinvestigation of her disappearance. What’s your opinion on whether she could have gone into your castle? She might have been looking for that grandmother of hers who vanished while on the tour back in the fifties, and met the same fate.

I hope you’ve got a good lawyer, pal, because I’m smelling class action lawsuit.

Bodach could have turned his back on the castle and relocated to a safer spot in the mortal realm, where he could live as anyone he chose to, except for one problem. Since cursing the McKeran Clan in the twelfth century, he had been trying in vain to retrieve the one treasure that had been his motive for getting rid of the half-Fae highlanders: Torra MacBren, the latest incarnation of a powerful druidess whose magic allowed her to possess at will and live in any body she desired, including that of an immortal.

Once Bodach stole her life essence he would also possess her ancient magic, and then could use it to return to Elphyne, eliminate all of his enemies, and rule both the light and dark courts as King of All Fae.

Unfortunately Torra had been hiding inside the stronghold when he had cast the melia spell that had imprisoned the McKeran, their vassals and the castle outside the mortal realm. Because Bodach had not named her upon creating the spell trap, her body had been destroyed, leaving her spirit to remain forever imprisoned along with the clan. Forcing the McKeran to relive the same year of horrors over and over had been amusing, but the continual enchantment would not permit Bodach to stay long every time he attempted to enter and search the spell trap. Since his own magic could not affect him, it threw him out every time.

Bodach had also become aware of the strange changes happening inside the pocket universe that held the clan imprisoned. The cycle of time, which should have repeated the same year over and again in the exact same manner, had increased in speed. What had taken months to play out for the last nine centuries now took only a few weeks. The creatures he had been using to try and neutralize the clan so he could search the stronghold had also behaved oddly, and all had grown to monstrous sizes. He suspected the spell he had used to create the trap might be reacting to the enchanted insects he had been sending inside, but he wasn’t sure. The peculiarities of melia magic eluded him as much as the spirit of Torra MacBren. During his last attempt, fire had broken out in the stronghold, killing the clan’s chatelaine.

Whatever the cause of these disturbing new developments, he suspected he needed to act quickly now.

If his new scheme worked he would soon be able to both freely access and remove whatever he wished from the other side of the enchantment. The passage appeared empty, as it always did, but as it was now night, it was at its weakest. He pulled on his chain mail glove before pressing his palm against the magical distortion, which opened like a transparent portal.

“Come out and greet me, my little servant,” Bodach murmured as he sent a flick of his power through the opening.

From a crack between two wall stones a golden spider emerged, skittering down to the floor and moving to the center of the passage. It appeared slightly battered, but even as Bodach watched, the dents in its metallic carapace slowly filled out and vanished.

“Very good.” He crouched down to look in the arachnid’s shiny black eyes. “Did you kill the intruder?”

The spider could only communicate crudely, but the blurry images it showed Bodach made it clear the reporter had escaped its poisonous bite. It seemed to be a dark-haired female, perhaps one of those silly podcasters he’d invited.

“I have no doubt you will have ample opportunities to correct your mistake in the days ahead,” he assured his creature as he stood. “Now, spin your web and toss it to me.”

His success with insects infiltrating the spell trap had come after centuries of failed experiments. Although of limited use, he had learned to capitalize on the tiny creature’s inherent abilities. There was no guarantee that this new tactic would work, but it had to be tried.

The spider reared up, its spinnerets producing hair-thin red-gold threads that it caught with its legs and wove into a thicker cable. Once it was long enough it hurled the braid of webbing at the distortion, through which it passed. Bodach caught the length of it with his fingers, and as the spider wove more, he fastened it to the bottom of a torch sconce. He had sent the spider into the spell trap for the purpose of creating a stable doorway that would not be noticed by the clan. Through it Bodach would be able to come and go freely, but since the enchantment held everyone inside Dun Talamh prisoner, they could not do the same. Since the creature’s web had been made of red crystal-infused gold, he might also wrap some around himself before he crossed over to prevent triggering the enchantment.

“Make more web, enough for me to affix to all sides of the passage,” he instructed the spider. “That should keep the way between the two universes open. Then you may fashion me a shroud.”

A large shadow appeared in the torchlight behind the spider, and a deep voice said, “I see it over there.”

Bodach stumbled back as a gigantic clansman rushed around the corner and ran toward him, stopping only to lift his boot and stomp on the spinning arachnid. That crushed it flat and severed the web strand connecting it to the other side of the barrier. The McKeran chieftain then took down a torch and set fire to the remains of the spider. The fire flared wildly up around his hand just before he tossed away the torch and stepped back from the burning arachnid until the flames engulfing it died down.

“Will you idiots ever stop interfering?” Bodach muttered.

As if he’d heard him, the chieftain straightened and looked directly at the distortion, meeting Bodach’s gaze through the opening. The big brute strongly resembled the clan’s laird, but then all of the oversize bastards did. He wore a chieftain’s pin on his tartan, so he was one of the clan’s senior men. He had eyes that appeared deceptively mild; in them Bodach saw something dark and dangerous that made him take a step back without thinking about it.

The chieftain leaned forward slightly as if peering through the hole in the enchantment. “What do you here, coward?”

Realizing he could see him through the gap in the barrier, Bodach silently cursed himself as he spun around and disguised his true form. But as he did so, it also registered that the new opening might be something he could use. He turned around and muttered a fear spell before he sent a flick of power through the opening.

“Come for the wee lass?” the chieftain taunted as he drew his sword. “If you want her, you go through me.” As the spell hit him he took a step back. “The fack?”

The opening in the distortion disappeared, but the clansman still stood on the other side staring at him as if he could see him. Did he have druid blood? Bodach wondered. That might explain why he wasn’t cowering in fear from the spell he’d just cast over him.

“Come through if you dare,” the chieftain taunted, beckoning rudely at him without looking the least bit frightened. “Face a man in a true fight instead of tormenting wee lasses and hiding in the shadows, you bastart.”

Interfering ox.

The spell had failed to take hold. For a moment Bodach wanted to use his power again, this time to punch a hole through the spell trap, seize the man and tear off his head. He also knew if he did that he could disrupt the imprisoning enchantment, which might collapse and destroy the castle on both sides. The backlash of such an act would then descend on Bodach and likely obliterate him.

“Aye, I saw you, old man,” the chieftain said, coming as close as he could to the distortion without triggering its repelling power. “Dinnae come here again, for we’ll skewer you proper before you step one foot inside our home.”