Highland Moon #6 (Scottish Werewolf Shifter Romance) by Mac Flynn

Author:Mac Flynn [Flynn, Mac]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mac Flynn

7

Bruce unsheathed his sword and turned towards the trail. Something slammed into him so hard that he was knocked backwards into the thick trunk of a tree. He slumped onto the ground and lay still.

“Bruce!” Ciardha screamed.

She rushed towards him, but she, too, was knocked off her feet and thrown to the ground just off the trail near me. I looked in the direction of our attack and my eyes widened as I beheld the former Bean Lyel who was now Sheehy, the witch of the old laird. She stood before us on the path covered in a black traveling cloak. Her skin was as pale as death and her eyes glowed with a demonic possession. Sheehy’s lips were curled back in a hideous grin and one hand was raised so the palm faced outward towards us. I noticed a faint hint of black fog that floated in front of her palm.

Duncan and Angus hurried in front of me and brandished their weapons.

“Witch!” Duncan shouted.

Sheehy snarled at the pair of men. “You are fools to seek to stop your inevitable destruction,” she sneered at us.

“No one is a fool who seeks to do God’s work,” Duncan challenged her.

Sheehy tilted back her head and let out a great cackle that echoed in the empty woods around us. “God’s work? Your false laird is nothing but a monster.”

“He is a better person than you!” I shouted as I pushed my way through the men and stood between them and the witch.

“Lady Campbell, stay behind us!” Duncan ordered me. He tired to grab my arm, but I moved out of his reach.

“I will no longer cower before monsters,” I insisted.

“You, the whore of the wolf, dare call me a monster?” Sheehy mocked me.

I caught her eyes with an unflinching gaze and my voice rang loud and clear through the forest. “He is not the one who seeks to murder the innocent to avenge the death of an attempted murderer.”

A dark shadow passed over Sheehy’s face “She deserved her fate, and I was glad to be of assistance to him in that regards.”

“Then it was you,” a small voice gasped. I looked to Ciardha and watched her struggle to her feet. She clutched onto a boulder and glared at Sheehy. “You were the one who advised him on how to poison his own wife.”

Sheehy frowned. “Who are you to know of-” Her eyes widened and she lowered her hand. “No,” I heard her whisper. “It cannot be. You were killed.”

Ciardha clutched her chest and turned to me. “Muira, call upon the gods for their help!” she commanded me.

I blinked at her and shook my head. “Call upon the gods? But I do not know how,” I told her.

“There are no gods who can help you!” Sheehy roared.

She raised both her arms and strands of dark velvet fog slipped around her arms. The light focused around her hands and back large black balls from which came a hot heat.

Ciardha rushed over to me and clasped our hands together just as Sheehy threw the balls at our small group.

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