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believe in." She yanked hard, managing to free her wrist.
Rhiannon cocked her head to the side, a quizzical light in
her eyes. "You're not participating. You simply must be
present."
"I'm not?"
"No. Who told you otherwise?"
Eyes narrowed warily, Miranda searched Rhiannon's face
for some sign she might be telling lies. But those blue eyes
shone with genuine confusion. To insure there were no
misunderstandings, Miranda repeated, "I don't have to say
anything, do anything, or participate in any fashion? I just
have to sit and watch?"
Rhiannon bobbed her head quickly. "You'd be smart to stay
out of Cian's sight too. He's got it in his head the writings are
wrong, and that you don't need to be near any of it. Maybe
he's right, but I'm not willing to take any chances. Will you
come, please, Miranda?"
129
Cursed to Kill
by Claire Ashgrove
The pleading light in the redhead's bright eyes wreaked
havoc on Miranda's common sense. Instinct told her to sit
down and dismiss this foolishness. But displaced guilt rose,
arguing that she was being selfish. If she didn't have to do
anything, then she wasn't part of the ritual. Observing
harmed nothing. Under those circumstances, refusing a polite
request was just a mix of stubbornness and affronted pride.
She let out a heavy sigh, annoyed with herself for caving.
"Fine. I'll come watch."
"Oh, thank you!" Rhiannon's words came out in a relieved
rush. She beckoned once more for Miranda to leave the
spacious room.
After grabbing the manuscript from atop the table, Miranda
stepped into the hall. She looked around, observing the only
light came from old sconces on the wall that held oil lanterns.
Though overhead lights hung from the tall ceiling, strangely
they were unlit. Farther down, the stairwell landing glowed an
eerie yellow-orange, as if the rooms below were also lit in the
same fashion.
Rhiannon stalked past, her quick steps preventing Miranda
from asking. In silence, she followed the long red hair that
swished at Rhiannon's hips down the two flights of stairs, into
the front foyer, and through a set of double doors to a long
hall that Miranda suspected had once been a ballroom. As
she'd guessed, the electric fixtures were dark, the only light
she could find, that from similar kerosene lanterns.
Odd. Though perhaps not, if one believed in the
metaphysical and magic.
130
Cursed to Kill
by Claire Ashgrove
"This way," Rhiannon called from a pair of frosted balcony
doors. The crisp nighttime breeze rolled through, stirring
heavy silk draperies. On the gust of fresh air, rode the faint
scent of a nearby campfire.
Miranda's nose twitched with the smoky fragrance as she
stepped onto a tiled balcony that overlooked the house's rear
property. Through the nearby trees that framed a manicured
lawn, she glimpsed the flickering light of a bonfire.
"Do you need a jacket? We'll be outside for a while."
"No. I'm fine." Miranda rubbed her arms, the chill that
prickled her skin having nothing to do with the Southern
Highlands cooler weather. Her long sleeved sweater would
keep her warm, so long as her anxiety didn't get any worse.
"Okay. Hurry." Rhiannon took the wrought iron stairs two
at a time, descending to the clipped lawn.
Miranda followed on her heels, piqued by unexplainable
curiosity. Truth was, as annoyed as she'd become, she
wanted to know what had everyone in a ruckus. Wanted to
understand why those hand-written pages of runes were so
damned important and why they had Cian tied in knots.
Rhiannon's pace quickened, forcing Miranda to jog to keep
up with the redhead's long stride. They passed a fragrant bed
of flowers, ducked beneath an old tree's gnarled branches.
Though nature had invaded the path they took through the
sparse woods, Rhiannon's pace never faltered. She
maneuvered through the overgrown brush like stepping
stones lay beneath her feet. Finally, when they'd gone so far
that the house became merely a dim shadow, she stopped
and pressed a finger to her lips, indicating Miranda should
131
Cursed to Kill
by Claire Ashgrove
remain silent. When Miranda nodded in understanding,
Rhiannon pointed at a four-foot wide tree stump.
Miranda took a seat on the weather-smoothed surface.
"You must stay here. The stump is protected. If
something...goes...wrong...you'll be safe." Her whisper
rustled with the stirring leaves. "Don't come out, Miranda. No
matter what you see."
With that, she plucked the ancient writings from Miranda's
fingers and ducked around a dense row of thorn bushes. For a
moment, Miranda panicked. From where she sat, no
moonlight touched the ground. All around her shadows
loomed, and the faint signs of active wildlife set her nerves on
end. But then, as she glanced over the hedges, the breeze
stirred once more, parting the overhead canopy. A sliver of
silver filtered through the decaying leaves, illuminating
Rhiannon's fire-red hair. Miranda focused on the gentle bob,
watching her ascend a small rise to a slight plateau. Just
ahead of her lithe outline, four tall megaliths rose around a
low-burning fire.
Surprised, Miranda squinted. Not merely four. Several
more stood twice as tall as Rhiannon. Bare from the waist up,
Cian rested a shoulder against one thick stone. The firelight
bronzed his skin and shadowed the definition of his muscles.
Despite her anger with him, Miranda's throat turned dry at
the sight. Even if he currently defined the meaning of jerk, he
was still magnificent.
He accepted the manuscript from Rhiannon, bowed his
head over the aged papers. She couldn't make out his words,
but the sound of his voice echoed through the wilderness.
132
Cursed to Kill
by Claire Ashgrove
Then, as if he had ordered them to do so, the overhanging
branches parted, allowing the moonlight to spill into the
grotto. She could see him clearly now, and as he turned, her
eyes widened at the stunning artwork on his back. Painted in
the same tinge of blue as the marks on Rhiannon's face, an
elaborate Celtic knot spanned from shoulder blade to shoulder
blade, nape of neck to waist.
The exact same symbol drawn on the very last papyrus
page.
Miranda swallowed, sensing something. Something she
couldn't define, but whatever it was, made the downy hairs
on her arms stand on end. Cian bowed his head, and his voice
reached her ears as clearly as if he stood at her side.
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133
Cursed to Kill
by Claire Ashgrove
Chapter Fourteen
Cian glanced up from his mother's handwriting to study his
siblings. The stones were prepared, the ground sanctified,
and all around him, power hovered in the wings, humming
between the tips of the monoliths, waiting to be summoned.
They had gathered earlier to discuss the situation. Now,
before he could take another step toward mortality, he must
gain their unanimous agreement.
"You've heard our mother's wishes as she wrote them.
What have you decided?" He directed the question at Taran,
the one most likely to object.
As expected, his youngest brother snorted derisively. "I
won't have any part of this. I've no desire to become a weak
mortal. Our mother might have been the Selgovae's high
priestess, but she chose her mate. You want me to turn
against my father, the one who gave us this precious gift."
Cian's temper threatened to defy his straining will. "Did
you not hear what she wrote? She didn't choose Drandar. He
chose her. Manipulated her with his demonic tongue and
forced her into slavery. It was a ploy to give him control of
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