Donna Grant: Midnight's Surrender

Harriet sighed dramatically. “Just hurry.”

“Why do you want this object anyway?”

“Why does any Druid want more magic? I want to use it.”

He clenched his jaw at her condescending tone. How he was coming to hate the woman. But no matter how he looked at things, the odds of him and Rennie leaving alive were slim. Rennie had the magic, but she wasn’t adept at using it in battle.

That’s where Harriet was able to overpower her. As quick and agile as he was, the drough had an upper hand with him as well. It was a Warrior’s one weakness—well, that and the way drough blood could kill them.

Dale stopped and knelt beside Rennie. Her shoulder was bleeding slightly, and the material from her sweater had been burned away by Harriet’s magic. Seeing Rennie injured was all it took for Shomi to demand retribution and blood from Harriet.

He welcomed his god’s anger as he let it mix with his own. It was time he took a stand. Dale straightened and faced the drough who watched him with a dispassionate gaze.

“Well?” she asked. “What have you found?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing here.”

“Then you leave me no choice but to kill Rennie.”

Dale chuckled as he shook his head. “You might have more magic as a drough , but you lack intelligence.”

Her eyes narrowed on him dangerously. “You think to insult me? How is that helping your cause?”

“Think, drough . If you kill Rennie, you’ll never find what you’re looking for.”

“Her mother will know, and even if she doesn’t, I’ll get the land and search until I find it.”

Dale shrugged nonchalantly. “I foresee you spending years on that search and being left empty-handed.”

“Once I get inside, I will find it,” she snapped.

“Do you think if you own the land that you’ll somehow be able to enter this chamber?” He shook his head. “Think again, Druid.”

Harriet took a deep breath and crossed her arms over her chest. “Help me, then.”

Dale had known this offer would come, but it still didn’t make it any easier to hear. “Help you?”

“Yes. Come with me, and I’ll allow Rennie to live. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“How is my going with you helping Rennie?”

Harriet smiled, adding in as much seduction as she could. It fell flat. Everyone would fall flat after Rennie, but Dale didn’t tell the drough that. He kept the displeasure from his face as he stared at the Druid.

“Dale, really,” she said with a teasing laugh. “You’ll convince Rennie to give me what I’m looking for, and then I’ll leave her alone. And you’ll be mine.”

The only one he wanted to be with was Rennie. He’d known it when he found her, and once he had tasted her kisses and claimed her body, that knowledge had only strengthened. His feelings went deeper than he had thought himself capable of, but somehow with Rennie, it made complete sense.

“Well?” Harriet demanded, her tone edging into annoyance.

Dale readied himself for what was coming, because he knew he wasn’t going to get out of it alive. Which was a pity. He’d have liked to tell Rennie he loved her.

Love. He really did love her. The shock of it turned into joy. Rennie had helped him find the man he had once been, the man he had thought forever lost.

“I’m losing patience.”

He peeled back his lips in a smile to show his fangs. “You can take your offer and go bugger yourself. No one could compare to Rennie, especially no’ you.”

Her anger was swift—and fierce. Dale felt her magic well up just before it pummeled him, bringing him to his knees. But she wasn’t done.

She methodically cut her finger and let two drops of her blood hang in midair before she flung them at him, sending them directly into his still-open wounds.

Dale clenched his jaw to keep from shouting from the anguish of it. He collapsed sideways while his body began to systematically shut down.

He lifted his gaze to Rennie and smiled as he comprehended what the ancients and her ancestors wanted her to do—she was the only one who could defeat Harriet. It might not be part of her destiny, but it would be a start. And he knew she could do it. If only he could tell her.

The edges of his vision grew dark as his body convulsed.

It was the bellow of distress that pulled Rennie into consciousness. She winced at the pain in her shoulder and opened her eyes to see Dale on his side, his body wracked in torture.

Harriet screamed in fury and sent blast after blast of magic into the invisible barrier keeping her out of the chamber. Rennie hastily crawled to Dale. As soon as she reached him he went still and limp.

“No,” she whispered and touched his chest, hoping to feel it move. But nothing happened. “No, no, no, no. I’m not ready for you to leave me.”

Tears stung her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. She didn’t understand how he could be dead. The only way a Warrior could be killed was by beheading or with drough blood.

With Dale’s open wounds and Harriet, Rennie quickly pieced together what had happened. Her head jerked up to Harriet. Never in her life had Rennie felt such hate and rage. She climbed to her feet and started toward the Druid who had ruined her happiness.

She watched Harriet’s meltdown as she screamed and stamped her feet before bending over at the waist and tugging her hair. Rennie couldn’t find an ounce of compassion or pity.

“Why?” Rennie demanded. “Why did you kill him?”

Harriet froze, her laughter loud and shrill as she flung her head up, her long, red hair flying around her, and straightened. “I did it because I wanted to. After you kill the first time, it gets easier.”

“You mean after you killed your husband?”

“Yes,” she hissed angrily. After a pause, she smoothed out her features and said, “Dale refused my offer. For that he had to pay. Not to mention I knew it would rile you. Now you will give me what I want.”

Rennie opened herself up to every ounce of magic in and around her. She silently called to the ancients and her ancestors and was rewarded with the white ribbons of magic from the fire moving toward her to tangle about her legs. The ribbons worked their way up her body, moving faster as they did.

Rennie waited for Harriet to comment on them, and when she didn’t Rennie realized Harriet couldn’t see it.

“Rile me? You’ve done more than that, Harriet. You’ve awoken a part of me you’re going to wish you had left alone.”

“You? Please.”

But Rennie saw the little quiver of uncertainty in Harriet’s demeanor, and she took advantage of it. Rennie imagined her magic knocking Harriet on her ass, and in the next instant, it did just that.

“I hope that hurt. I’m just getting started, Harriet.”

“You’ll never be rid of me!” Harriet screamed.

Rennie was up for the challenge. No matter her fury, she couldn’t take a life—not even one as evil as Harriet. Without missing a beat, she set up spells so Harriet could never step foot on her property again without suffering unimaginable agony.

As soon as she heard Harriet’s scream of pain and retreating footsteps, Rennie rushed back to Dale. She smoothed a hand through his hair and pressed against his wounds to stop the bleeding.

“I don’t know what to do!” she yelled at the chamber, hoping her ancestors or the ancients would help her. “Help me save him!”

When there was no reply, she leaned over him, refusing to let him go. The ribbons of magic swelled to encompass Dale with her.

“Heal him,” she whispered to her magic. She had never used magic to heal before, but it was worth a chance. If imagining what she wanted worked in removing Harriet, maybe the same could be done with Dale. Rennie closed her eyes and envisioned what she wanted as she said the words. “Remove the drough blood. Close the wounds. Remove the drough blood. Close the wounds.”