The fire roared and growled as it ate into the walls. It seemed to laugh at her plan to steal the man and beast from its grasp.
She ignored the pulsating heat already stinging her flesh. She turned her back to the inferno and wormed her way between Gray’s side and Cythraul’s belly. Thank goodness she could still see the barest movement of the flesh along Gray’s ribs as he struggled to breathe.
Swallowing hard, Trulie turned and rested her head against the great black horse’s side and listened. She could heal, but she couldn’t raise the dead. She had to make sure she wasn’t too late.
A weak tap beneath her cheek filled her with hope. There was still time. She could pull this off—as long as they both responded quickly.
Trulie rubbed her fingers together. She hadn’t healed nearly as many times as her sister Mairi, but she knew she could do it. She had discovered that she too was blessed with Mairi’s gift when she had healed Karma after he had been hit by a car.
She flattened her palm on Gray’s side and pressed the other on Cythraul’s neck. Head bowed, she closed her eyes. Now all she had to do was build and release the energy. The gift of the Fates would take care of the rest.
A familiar burn exploded in the center of her chest and radiated out to her arms. The scorching energy squeezed through her veins and surged down into her hands. She kept her eyes shut and concentrated as the aching grew more intense. Healing required the most energy of all. More energy meant more pain.
She clenched her teeth, her hands shaking with the growing intensity of the power. She had to wait until the proper moment to shoot the energy into her charges. They needed the biggest surge she could propel.
Blood seeped from her hands. Crimson droplets peppered her arms, coursed down, and dripped off the tips of her fingertips. Just a little more. She bent her head, clenched her teeth, and struggled to keep from passing out.
Now.Certainty burst across her consciousness. A scream ripped from her throat as a blinding white shaft of energy exploded out of her hands.
The bodies of both man and horse rocked with the force of the impact.
She sagged forward, catching herself with her bloody hands. Forcing herself upright, she rocked back on her heels as Cythraul grumbled out an angry knicker and struggled to gain his footing. The great horse rose and staggered the few steps it took to clear the stable door, his long reins dragging in the dirt beside him. His glistening black nostrils flared as he pawed the ground and squealed out his rage.
Trulie pressed a hand to Gray’s cheek. His eyes flickered open, then narrowed as he tapped a finger on her chin. “I told ye to stay in the garden. Ye’re a stubborn wench who doesna listen.”
“Get up.” She pulled on him. “We’ll talk stubbornness later. You must get up. We have to get out of here.”
He struggled to his hands and knees, then fell back to the ground. Coughing and gagging, his eyes slowly closed.
“Open your damn eyes! Don’t you dare give up now.” She pounded on him as she stole a glance at the wall of flames steadily marching toward them. Shouts of the clansmen fighting the inferno broke through the blazing barrier. “Help us!” she screamed. But the others couldn’t hear her through the roaring chaos. She had to do something. She refused to let him die.
“You’re gonna burn to death if you don’t open your damn eyes and help me.” She held his face between her hands, willing him to listen.
He slowly rolled to his stomach and lifted his head. “The reins,” he said, coughing as he weakly pointed toward the angry black horse still pawing at the ground just beyond the stable.
The reins. She staggered to her feet. Cythraul reared up, pawing at the air and shaking his great shaggy head as he screamed. She skittered sideways, eyeing the horse’s sharp hooves cutting the air.
“Nice horse. Work with me here. Please.” Trulie struggled to keep her voice calm. Thank goodness the beast was hemmed in.The small patch of ground behind the stables was blocked off on one side by broken-down wagons and the solid-stone skirting wall on the other.
A black streak sped past her with a warning growl. Karma barked, hopping and dancing around the angry horse. Avoiding Cythraul’s pawing hooves, Karma lunged and caught one of the reins between his teeth. He clenched it tight and started backing up as though playing his favorite game of tug.
Trulie rushed forward grabbed the rein and pulled. “Calm down, Cythraul. Calm down.”
With Karma growling encouragement, Trulie managed to snag the other rein. She pulled hard and inch by inch, and with Karma nipping at the horse’s heels, together, they maneuvered the great beast close enough to get the reins to Gray.
“Here. Wrap them around your hands and hang on.” She shoved the reins into Gray’s hands. When he failed to respond, she punched his shoulder. “Gray! Do it now.”
“Ye are a worrisome wench.” He slowly wrapped the reins around one hand, then pressed his fingers against his mouth and blew a weak whistle.
Cythraul’s ears perked, then he dug in and backed away from the fire. Gray half rolled, crawled, then finally just held on and allowed the horse to drag him across the clearing. Behind them, burning hay crackled out a warning as the remainder of the roof plummeted to the ground. Shouts echoed through the bailey as the fire roared hotter. Trulie’s burning hair crackled in her ears. The cloying smell of singed hair and black smoke gagged her. She turned away and sucked in deep breaths of cold Highland air.
Wiping her bloody hands against the tattered remains of her dress, she scooted closer to Gray and pressed her hot face against the clammy coolness of his skin. As he coughed and noisily sucked in a healthy inrush of air, she wept.
He wrapped an arm around her and yanked her back against his chest. “Do ye ever do as ye are told?” he asked with a hoarse growl.
“Rarely,” she said as she hugged his arm tighter around her. Without opening her eyes, she listened hard and scanned the area with her senses. Good. For the most part, the chaos was dying down as the fire destroyed what was left of the stable. They wouldn’t have much time to rest before the clan picked their way around the destruction and discovered them. Better rest with what little time they had. Lordy, she was completely drained.
His chest shifted against her, as though he was about to speak. She cut him off with a sharp jab of her elbow. “Not now. I am worn out. We can talk later. Right now, I need a few minutes of peace and quiet before everyone finds us. Healing drains me.”
