Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (25 page)

Payton,
mo luaidh,
I’m going to save you. And then I will be forever by your side.

Sam

Kyle’s fingers trembled as he read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of it.

“She’s got the gift of second sight. She sees things. She says the Fates have sent her here to save my life,”
he said, remembering Payton’s words.
His brother had trusted her, even when she had foretold disaster.
“Aye, I believe her.”

Payton had said this without a shadow of a doubt in his voice. Which was why he, too, had to trust her and not hesitate. Payton had to read these few lines, and fast.

As Kyle pushed the note into his fur pouch, the skin on his arms prickled. Sam had written about a massacre. If she told the truth, he could not stand idly by as his brothers rushed headlong to their doom—or, as she referred to it, a curse. He had to stop it.

Only when he reached the stables did he realize he was still carrying the package for Sam in his
sporran
. He wouldn’t see her at Galthair but would instead follow his brothers as quickly as he could. He would therefore just return the package to Payton. No sooner had he stuffed everything into his saddlebags and reached for his weapons than the stable boy handed him the reins. With one final glance up to the darkening, cloud-heavy sky, Kyle drove his horse out of the gate.

C
HAPTER
33

M
y foot was bleeding. I had stepped on some sharp wooden stick, which had pierced the sole of my flimsy sandals. Every step I took was painful, and I almost didn’t have the strength to keep going. I had been hiking since the morning and didn’t expect the road to Castle Coulin to be that long. Night had fallen, and I needed to be careful not to lose my way. I caught a glimpse of Castle Coulin after I had finally reached the mountaintop—from which I was now descending again.
Just don’t lose it now that you’re in the home stretch,
I kept reminding myself.

I pressed my hand against my side, but it didn’t help. My body ached all over, and I needed a quick break.

“Goddamn Highlands!” I wailed, slapping my cheek when I felt yet another midge bite. Those tiny, wretched flies had been following me all day, and I felt as though I must be covered in hundreds of bites.

I was so close to Coulin that I didn’t want to give up now, and so I put one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the pain, the itchiness from the midge bites, and my physical exhaustion, just so I would get there in time.

A small noise nearby made me spin around and whip out the dagger.

“Shit!” I whispered, remembering the bandits. I ducked and tried to be perfectly still while anxiously scanning my surroundings. In this darkness everything looked like a bush or rock to me.

Then I finally made sense of a black shape nearby and hunkered down even lower. I suppressed another cussword, even though I had several good ones lined up on the tip of my tongue. Cautiously, I glanced around. I was sure that there had to be someone—a person—because a fully saddled horse wouldn’t be wandering around the Highlands all by itself. But that was exactly what it looked like: The horse was alone, roaming here and there and just chewing on grass.

I watched it for a while longer to make sure that I wouldn’t run into its owner, wherever he or she might be. But I was in a hurry, and a horse suited me and my aching foot just fine—even though I had no idea how I would even get up on it.

I stood up and started quietly speaking to it. When it turned its head in my direction, I carefully held out the palm of my hand. It didn’t seem shy at all and came closer while I blabbered on and on, hoping to gain its trust. Eventually I was able to run my hand slowly down its neck, trying to find the reins.

Startled, I withdrew my hand when I felt something wet and sticky underneath my fingers. I couldn’t see it in the darkness, but I knew right away that it was blood. My hands were covered in blood, and I recoiled, trying to fight my panic.

Dammit! I couldn’t lose my cool now. That horse was my ticket out of here, and I wiped the blood from my fingers in disgust before firmly and determinedly reaching for the pommel. In doing that, my hand accidentally grazed the embroidery on the saddle. I could just about make it out in the fading light: Highland thistles, all lined up in a row around the seat, all the way down to the saddlebags.

“No,” I stammered in terrified disbelief, shaking my head and denying the obvious truth. “No, please, don’t let it be true,” I begged, running my hand over the enormous bloodstain.

It couldn’t be! Again I saw the Scotch thistles before me and remembered how Kyle had ridden off into the sunset in this very saddle, laughing. I needed to be sure. In a frenzy, I tore open the saddlebags, rummaging through them in search of some kind of proof. Was this really Kyle’s horse? Was this Kyle’s blood on my hands?

There had to be a different explanation. But deep in my heart I knew that Kyle’s destiny had already been fulfilled. And all because I hadn’t had the courage to warn him.

Desperately, I rifled through the bags. Through my veil of tears, I barely saw what I was pulling out: a long leather band, a fishing line plus hook, a package wrapped in soft leather, and a piece of paper. There was nothing that I could specifically ascribe to Kyle, and so I unfolded the piece of paper and froze. The note slipped from my numb fingers, and I watched it, shocked to the very core of my being, as it slowly drifted to the ground.

How did the letter I had left behind for Payton get into Kyle’s saddlebags? And what was Kyle doing here, anyway?

Payton’s words popped up painfully in my memory. Words of explanation and apology for what he had done—what he would do—this very night:

“And surely everything would have turned out differently if Kyle hadn’t died! He was the youngest of the alliance. He wasn’t supposed to be there at all that night, but he rode after the others, secretly following them.”

He was following the others! Why?

The letter rose from the ground, spun around, and rose higher and higher until it was swallowed by the darkness, as if the wind wanted to carry my words up into the sky so everyone would know of my guilt and shame. Had Kyle followed his brothers because of me?

“No! Oh God, please…no!”

I wept uncontrollably. I had been so sure that I didn’t have a choice, but now the feelings of guilt overpowered me. As I recalled Payton’s words, they were like a knife thrust into my heart:

“Cathal had spotted him in the distance and immediately sent someone back to take Kyle home. But it was already too late. Kyle had been attacked—stabbed from behind with a short dagger. He had drowned in his own blood.

That cowardly and deceitful attack changed everything. Now everyone called for revenge. Kyle had been one of them, and everyone wanted to avenge his death. Within a few minutes, they had charged the enemy’s castle. It was the middle of the night, and most of the inhabitants were asleep.”

And
I
was the only one who knew that it wasn’t the Camerons who had killed Kyle! Nathaira Stuart had invented the ambush to hide her own treacherous act!

“If Kyle hadn’t died that night, the McLeans wouldn’t have joined our fight. They would never have taken part in the massacre of the Camerons without a personal reason to join in. I killed Kyle for us!”
Nathaira had admitted to Cathal back at the motel, shortly before dying herself.

When she told this story back in present-day Delaware, I had felt the pain and anger about this betrayal very deeply. But now that I was living through it all myself, experiencing it firsthand—being responsible for it, on top of it all—I crumpled to the ground in a pathetic, helpless heap and sobbed uncontrollably. Dark storm clouds shifted, covering the moon and throwing the world into a black abyss. A blinding streak of lightning twitched across the night sky and burned itself into the darkness.

“Murderers! Cowards! They’re going to pay for this!” the men roared.

“Damn them all to hell!”

“Their castle must burn!”

The voices screamed for revenge, and then the one female in their midst pulled her sword and reared her handsome black stallion. “Let us put an end to this feud once and for all! Nobody will dare attack us ever again! Death! Death to the Camerons!”

She dug her heels hard into her horse’s flanks, breaking into a gallop toward the enemy’s castle. Her raven hair blew behind her like a fateful beacon of warning, beckoning the men to follow her. Payton looked over to his oldest brother, the man he had sworn an oath of allegiance to, the man whose orders he would follow no matter what.

The news of Kyle’s murder had hit Blair hard. The last words he had spoken to the boy had been in anger, and Payton knew that Blair regretted this deeply. Hatred burned in Blair’s eyes when he pulled his sword and commanded, “Revenge for our brother!”

Nobody stayed behind. Everyone scrambled for their weapons—not a single man hesitated. They all wanted to repay murder with murder.

Payton, too, wanted to numb this boiling pain with blood. He wanted to kill the person who had done this with his own two hands, and so he turned and raced his horse toward the castle, pulling his broadsword in full gallop.

It hadn’t taken them long to storm the poorly defended parapet and open the castle gates from within. Now they hacked and slashed their way into the heart of the castle keep, with the Camerons taken by complete surprise and falling easy victims to their burning, bloodthirsty hatred. Men, women, and children perished under the angry blades of their attackers.

Payton’s grief and raging pain guided his hand, and over and over made him raise his sword against an onslaught of enemy warriors.

By his side was the youngest of the alliance: Cathal’s little brother, Kenzie, whose very first battle this was. Blinded by his thirst for revenge, he was charging an enemy much superior in experience and strength, and Payton had no choice but to cover the young hothead’s back.

He followed him into the castle keep, almost stumbling over the limp, lifeless body of a slain maidservant. Still behind Kenzie, he saw him charge up the stairwell and hurried after him, listening for the clinking of swords and angry shouts of men as he started climbing the tower. The winding staircase was dark, with only a faint shimmer of moonlight coming through the tiny arrow loops.

The blackness made Payton stop for a moment, mercifully numbing the bloodred noise swirling inside his head. With his chest heaving, he pressed his forehead against the cold stone wall. Tears streamed down his face as he detected the metallic scent of blood on his clothes and felt the heavy steel blade in his hand.

The image of his slain brother burned into his raging mind, and his throat felt so tight that he thought he would suffocate right here in the stairwell.

Kyle had been what they called a child of the sun. Wherever he was, there was joy. He would never have wanted all these people to die. He didn’t approve of violence and had never even enjoyed hunting.

Payton stumbled on. He kept going with the sudden realization that he’d made a terrible mistake. The freezing air on the battlements awakened his numb mind. Disoriented, he spotted Kenzie facing a man who’d barely had enough time to get dressed before grabbing his weapon. Even without shoes or a vest, the man swung his axe with deadly precision.

To end this brutal massacre, Payton couldn’t allow Cathal’s brother to get hurt. He needed to come to Kenzie’s aid, even if he had no intention of ending another life, enemy or not. For whatever was happening right now, it was terribly wrong. There was no other word for it but
murder
.

He had to bring the others to their senses if he ever wanted to redeem his mortal soul. Was it too late for that?

There was Cameron blood on his hands, and it had soaked through his shirt. A name flashed through his mind: Sam. And, as if the mere thought of his beloved conjured her image, she appeared right before his very eyes.

The wind lashed at her hair, pressing the white nightgown tightly against her body. Seeing the terror on her face, Payton instinctively stepped toward her. She held out her arms as if trying to push him away, looking over her shoulder in a frenzy. Two of Cathal’s men blocked her exit and moved in with a cold and calculating precision.

Sam? Why was she here? Was she really here? Payton shook his head to get rid of the apparition—but nothing happened; she was still there. The horror in her eyes, the desperation…