Donna Grant
SHADOW HIGHLANDER
Dark Sword — 5
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So much more goes into getting a book ready than just the writing. I’d like to thank my fabulous editor, Monique Patterson, for her brilliance and utter awesomeness. To the best assistant editor I know — Holly Blanck. Thanks for always answering my most mundane questions and never getting irritated. (At least not that I know of. lol.) My thanks to everyone at St. Martin’s who helped get this book ready.
A special thank you to Tricia Schmitt for the gorgeous cover. And to my agent, Irene Goodman.
Also, a note to Melissa Bradley, who does the most marvelous job on the Danger: Women Writing reader loop. You give so much of your time for us, and I can’t thank you enough.
Last, but not least, my family. To my husband for listening endlessly to plots, worries, and frustrations, and still having the perfect answer every time. To my kids, who get as excited as I do about my books, and who are always willing to tell everyone (even the drive-thru workers) that I’m an author. Love y’all!
ONE
If there was one thing Galen Shaw knew, it was magic. And there was only one reason for that magic.
Druids.
He grinned and glanced at his companion, Logan Hamilton, as Galen realized they were close to the Druids. Very close.
Right now, he and Logan appeared to be nothing more than travelers, when in fact they were Warriors, immortals with primeval gods locked inside them.
It all began centuries earlier when Rome invaded Britain. The Celts, unable to defeat the Romans, had turned to the Druids for help. In answer, the Druids called up ancient gods locked deep in the pits of Hell — gods so vicious, so depraved, the Devil himself imprisoned them.
Once loose, those gods chose the strongest warrior from each clan and became one with that warrior. Melded with the gods, the warriors, now immortal, had powers that made them unstoppable. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty.
The Romans knew they were defeated. But after Rome was gone, the Druids had been incapable of coaxing the gods from the men no matter how much magic they utilized. All the Druids could do was bind the gods, preventing them from ruling the warriors.
The gods, however, weren’t deterred. Their infinite power allowed them to pass from generation to generation, always choosing the strongest, the bravest of warriors. Waiting for a time they could once more roam the earth as conquerors.
So it remained until an evil Druid, a
The Warriors of MacLeod Castle had been lucky so far. They had executed Deirdre, or at least they thought that they had killed her. Her black magic had been stronger than any of them realized, however. She lived, and because of that, Galen now searched for a cluster of Druids who might hold the key to uncovering an ancient relic that could be used against Deirdre.
“The magic grows stronger,” Logan said as he jogged ahead of Galen to crest the top of a hill.
Galen scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed. They had been traveling for days, and thanks to their unnatural speed, they had covered twice as much distance as a mortal man. Yet it didn’t deter the unease that pricked at Galen’s soul.
He couldn’t help but think something significant, something crucial was about to happen. Whether it was to him or Logan or to their effort to impede Deirdre, Galen didn’t know.
And that’s what bothered him the most.
Logan paused as he reached the top and whistled long and low, the sound filled with delight and wonder.
Galen lengthened his stride and hurried to Logan’s side. He halted beside Logan and stared at the rugged, untamed beauty before him.
“It’s no wonder they call it Loch Awe,” he murmured.
He had seen many places in Scotland, but Galen had never viewed the spectacular vista of Loch Awe until now. Its grandeur made him feel … inconsequential.
His gaze took in the mountainsides with their vivid green mixing with the brown of the earth. Bright green grass blended beautifully with the dark green treetops that covered the steep slopes leading down to the long, narrow sapphire waters of the loch.
Galen sighed, his eyes soaking up the dramatic splendor. The water was smooth as glass in places and rippled with the breeze in others. From their vantage point, they could see the loch in its entirety as it stretched out before them.
The woods along the slopes were thick, perfect hiding places for Druids trying to stay alive and out of Deirdre’s clutches. Dotting the smooth water were various small islands, even one with a castle.
As much as Galen knew they needed to find the Druids, he couldn’t seem to move. The majesty of the loch left him spellbound, captivated. Fascinated.
“It’s breathtaking,” Logan murmured. “Everything is so still, so serene. Completely opposite of the cliffs and crashing waves of MacLeod Castle.”
Galen pulled his gaze away from the loch and turned his head to Logan. Logan was always smiling, always jesting, so it was unusual to see him so serious. Galen could only nod in response.
“Galen,” Logan whispered, his voice deepening in caution.
At once Galen stiffened. “Aye, I feel it. Again.”
It had been several days after they’d departed MacLeod Castle that Galen and Logan experienced the tingling awareness that they were being watched. But it wasn’t just any feeling. Magic was involved.
And they were feeling it yet again. It was different magic than that of the Druids they sought, but magic just the same.
“Deirdre, do you think?” A muscle in Logan’s jaw jumped as he said the hated name.
Galen turned and looked behind them. He took in every detail, searching for anything or anyone that might involve magic. There was nothing but empty land, with only a peregrine falcon flying above them.
He watched the bird of prey for a moment with its distinctive slate and white-barred belly before he turned
