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Authors: Maeve Greyson

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BOOK: Eternity's Mark
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“Please, Hannah. Look into my eyes. My eyes are the one thing about me that will never change, no matter what my form.” Taggart let his hand drop and waited, his wings folded against his back as he spoke.
She peered closer. “But, how is this possible? Why ...
what
exactly are you?” Hannah whispered, struggling to find her voice. She wrapped her arms around her body, hugging tight to keep from collapsing. A raging shiver, a sudden chill not caused by the blustering wind, shook her body. What she wouldn't give to be back in Jasper Mills. Why had she ever followed him to Scotland?
With a sidelong glance at the darkening sky, Taggart exhaled a great, rumbling groan as he unfurled his wings and held out his hand. “A storm is coming. Let me take ye to the caves. I will try to explain everything there.”
Hannah clutched her hands about her throat and glanced first at Taggart's wingspan and then the size of his outstretched hand. She could fit her entire ass in that hand and still have room to spare. Her heartbeat out-pounded the crashing waves battering the rocks below.
Breathe, Hannah, before you pass out.
“Please, Hannah. Please try and trust me.” Taggart's voice lowered to a throaty whisper; the pain in his eyes begged her to give him a chance.
She moved her lips, but no sound came out. Then she coughed and tried again. “I ... I will try.” She edged closer to him, touched the tips of her fingers to his palm, and flinched. She couldn't help it. His new form made him look as though he was about to rip her to shreds.
Taggart remained motionless. He held open his hand. His corded tendons rippled as his muscles tensed while Hannah stared at his outstretched arm. She edged her hand deeper into his waiting hand and exhaled when she realized she'd held her breath. The feel of his hand wasn't that much different in this strange new form he'd taken. His palm scraped a bit to her touch; still warm, leathery, and maybe just a bit tougher, sort of like a tortoise shell, but still similar to a human's touch. A bit strange, not what she'd expected. “I thought you'd be cold.”
That observation elicited a bitter laugh from his armored chest. “I'm not a reptile, Hannah. I am still just as warm-blooded as you.”
“I didn't mean ... what I meant was ...” Hannah stammered when she saw the hurt flash in Taggart's eyes. Her heart wrenched as she realized the depths of his pain. So this was Taggart's secret, one of humiliation and pain. He'd been an outcast because of his Draecna heritage. “Taggart, I am so sorry.”
“Do not pity me, Hannah.”
With a curt nod, he scooped her into his arms, cradled her against his armored chest, and launched them both into the sky.
 
A myriad of caves honeycombed the land of Taroc Na Mor, hiding the location of the sacred nurseries. Several entrances dotted about the estate, all well hidden and guarded by mystical wards and trusted members of the Guild of Barac'Nairn.
Taggart touched down on a narrow strip of beach littered with weather-stained bones and debris. The tide was in and there was barely enough room to stand in front of what appeared to be a sheer wall of impenetrable rock bleached white by years of exposure to nature's abuse.
Hannah pulled her collar higher about her face and glanced up into the black, thunderous sky. She'd kept her eyes squeezed shut while Taggart flew them the short distance around the tip of the cliff. Flying in an airplane was one thing. Hang gliding in the arms of a winged creature was a little more then she'd ever imagined.
A gust of wind yanked at her body, nearly jerking her off her feet. She grabbed at Taggart's wing to keep from toppling into the chopping waves below. Taggart curled the leathery shield of his wing around her and waved a hand over a shimmering obelisk imbedded in the face of the sheer wall.
“Greetings, honored prince. Greetings, honored Guardian. Is it time for the clutch to be released?” The faint outline of an extraordinarily tall, wispy man appeared on the rock wall, his features elongated and wavering with the wind.
Taggart nodded. “Greetings, Luthor. No. Not at this time. We only wish to view the nursery, please.”
Hannah shivered, peeping out from the protection of Taggart's leathery wing. What the heck was Luthor? A glance around her feet took in all the scattered bones. She swallowed hard against the bile burning at the back of her throat. Some of those looked like human bones. She pressed closer against Taggart's side and tightened her arm around his waist.
A rumbling sound interrupted the hysteria hammering inside her head and the rock wall in front of them shuddered and began to shift. As Hannah watched, what she thought was a fissure in the impenetrable rock wall widened into a dark, yawning entrance.
“Thank you, Luthor. Please close it behind us. When we've finished viewing the clutch, we'll leave through the internal passage and go up to the castle.” Taggart nodded his thanks to the transparent man as he pressed Hannah toward the opening in the wall.
“As ye wish, my prince. I am here to serve.” Then Luthor disappeared into the mottled surface of the limestone cliff.
As Hannah slid through the opening of the cave, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder. “Why did he keep calling you prince?” she whispered with a shiver against the damp air of the cave. She wrinkled her nose against the wet, earthy smell. She'd never liked close places.
“Luthor is one of my oldest followers. He found it difficult. . .
still
finds it difficult to accept the fact that my father left the House of Cair Orlandis and the rule of Erastaed to my younger brother, Sloan.” Taggart waved his hand at the unlit torches along the walls, causing them to erupt with flames.
Hannah turned in a slow circle, blinded by all the blazing torches. “I see.” What other secrets had Taggart been hiding? She turned back to Taggart, now standing before her in his handsome,
human
form. “So, is your brother like you?”
Sending a bitter laugh echoing through the dripping rocks of the cavern, Taggart shook his head. “No, Hannah. Why do ye think my father selected him? I am the last of my kind.”
Hannah flinched at the acidic spike in Taggart's voice. His bitterness oozed like a raw, open sore, tainting the air between them. “Taggart, I'm so sorry. But I'm a bit confused. How can you be what you are and then your brother
not
. Dammit! I'm trying to figure this out without hurting your feelings!” She wished she could reel back her words. It seemed like the more she babbled, the darker the pain flashed from the depths of his eyes.
“My dear sweet Hannah.” Taggart chuckled as he nodded toward a pile of large, rounded stones for her to have a seat. “Ye're the only soul I've met in over seven hundred years who has truly given a damn about my feelings. Have a seat and I'll try to explain exactly how my dysfunctional family tree is laid out.”
Hannah perched on the edge of the flat rock shelf. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she waited for Taggart to begin his tale. Poor Taggart. She noticed he always paced whenever he fretted, as though it enabled him to speak. If he didn't stop soon and begin talking, he'd have a trench pounded waist-deep in the damp loam of the cave.
“Not only was my father the ruler of Cair Orlandis—” Taggart paused, inhaling a deep, groaning breath as he rounded another lap of the cave. “He was a time-traveling, sorcering, scheming bastard who always looked for ways to use the universe for his own selfish means.”
Hannah bit her lip and held her tongue. Wow. Surely the story could only go up from here.
As Taggart paced, he locked his hands behind his back, stared at the ground, and kicked a few stones from his path. Hannah's heart hitched a sympathetic double-clutch as Taggart walked out his demons. Her body tensed as Taggart's face strained with the effort of laying out his painful memories to the light of day.
“Some would say my father was a handsome man. And there have been several historical references of female Draecna enamored with humans. However, these feeling are usually not returned and these Draecna learned to put their unrequited loves aside.” Taggart paused; a thunderous scowl darkened his face as he raked a hand through his black, windblown hair. “But my father was also a powerful sorcerer; he decided to con a young Draecna female into giving him children. He couldn't charm any of the Draecna of this century into giving him young. They wisely feared the insanity of the magical beings that would result from a mixture of Draecna DNA and my father's tainted blood. So, my father traveled back in time and found a young unsuspecting female. He found my mother, Isla.”
Taggart's words caught her off guard. Shifting on her cold, hard perch, Hannah couldn't help but interrupt. “Taggart, you said
children,
but you said your brother isn't like you. I'm sorry, but I still don't understand.” Hannah rubbed her temples. She was having trouble keeping up. He'd sprung so many surprises on her lately; she wanted to get this one straight. She wished she could write it down.
With a heavy sigh, Taggart shook his head and turned another lap in his circle. “Sloan has a human mother. He is my
half
brother and is only thirty years old. Sloan is from this century and has very little magic flowing through his blood. But dinna make the mistake of underestimating him; he is quite capable of basic elemental magic.”
“Then where are your other siblings?” Hannah stood and rubbed the feeling back into her rear. Enough of that chilled, damp seat. She knew she remembered him saying his father conned Isla into giving him
children
. Taggart had spoken as though he had siblings.
Taggart fixed Hannah with a look that chilled her to the bone more than the stones of the cave. “They are dead, Hannah. I am the only one left. My mother killed them all.”
Hannah's hands flew to her pounding chest. “What? What do you mean she killed them? Why?” She struggled against the nauseating bile rushing to gag her.
Taggart's jaw rippled as he clenched his teeth; the pain in his eyes begged her to understand. “They were insane, Hannah. They were a danger to themselves and any world they happened to enter. The strength of their powers required a great deal of responsibility and they had no conscience at all. Mother tried guiding them, but when they refused to change, she made the only choice she could. That is why Mother is now a goddess among the Draecna. Her unselfish sacrifice to the race and the worlds has been deemed truly great.”
Hannah swallowed against the lump of emotions knotted in her throat as tears welled up in her eyes. Draecna or not, the poor female had to kill her own babies to save the worlds from their cruel insanity. “How many?” Hannah choked on her whisper. “How many did she have to kill?” She almost couldn't speak the words. She couldn't fathom what Taggart's mother had endured.
Taggart stopped pacing. A barely discernable shrug rippled across his shoulders as he stared at his feet. “There were seven of us in the clutch. I am the only one left.”
“Where is your mother now?” Hannah edged closer across the sand-covered floor. The echo of the wind howled through the cavern, magnifying the loneliness of Taggart's life.
With a hollow laugh, Taggart stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. “Ye never quite know where or when Mother is going to show up. She has a habit of popping up when ye least expect her.”
“Oh, so surprise tends to run in the family?” Hannah gently teased as she veered from the mouth of the cave and turned toward the rear of the cavern, heading for one of the darker tunnels. She sensed Taggart didn't want closeness right now. He'd shut down on her. If anyone understood needing a bit of distance, she certainly did. With a shuddering sigh, she hugged herself. Perhaps a bit of distance would be better for them both. Besides, what would an emotional wreck like her know about helping an isolated soul like him?
“Not that way, Hannah.” Taggart took her arm and steered her toward the tunnel to the left. “If ye wish to see the nursery, we need to follow this one.”
Hannah tensed. “Could you light some more torches? I just felt something rather damp slither beside my foot and I'm really hoping it was just a clump of seaweed.” She hadn't felt any vibes from whatever it was on the ground so she hoped it wasn't any type of creature.
The walls sweated, radiating the steady cool of the moist earth, but the farther they traveled down the torch-lit tunnel, the warmer the air grew. Taggart brought the torches lining the passage to life. Hannah's feet sank into the soft, white sand sparkling in the light of the flickering flames. The farther they walked, the finer the grain became and her feet sank deeper into the path.
“What is that sound?” Hannah stopped. She cocked her head, straining to listen to the music floating down the passage. “Is that Mozart I hear playing in the distance?”
Taggart closed his eyes, turned his face in the direction of the nursery, then smiled and shook his head. “No. Vivaldi. Ye missed it because the song neared the end and they have it programmed to fade out when it's time for the next selection.”
BOOK: Eternity's Mark
8.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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