shine of her spell fading rapidly. The demonic sphere swirled faster and faster, until with a high-pitched squeal it imploded into nothingness.
As Kenna and I advanced, I chanced a quick glance in her direction. She arched her eyebrows in challenge. “Are you the queen or aren’t you? Take that witch down!”
With a slight nod of my head, I turned back to Addie. She mumbled words that seemed to wilt in the wake of the divine power arching from our rings. Her magic faltered. But I needed to do something more, something that would keep her from hurting those I loved ever again.
Remembering how Fiona and I had broken the spell on the journal, I pictured Doon in my mind—the cobbled streets, castle turrets reaching into the sky, the old chapel emanating the glory of the souls within, and lastly, the faces: Jamie, Duncan, Fiona, Fergus, Mario and Sharron, the Rosetti sisters, and even poor, abused Gideon.
The people were the essence of Doon. I focused every ounce of my being on saving them and their enchanted kingdom, which I’d come to love with all my heart. Then I sent up a desperate plea to Doon’s Protector.
Blinding beams shot from the rings, passing through the witch’s torso. Addie twitched as if burning from the inside out, purged by fire and righteousness.
She screamed in outrage, “Nooo!”
A hellish shriek rent the air, and Addie slumped over, her body aging rapidly before my eyes. Her lush blonde hair grew stringy and gray. Her skin turned sallow and shriveled into a thousand wrinkles. Her gorgeous figure shrunk, bending into her drab medieval dress and cape. Behind her, the self-perpetuating serpents began to deflate like damaged tires, dissolving into putrid lumps of ebony slime and ash on the floor.
Pure, unadulterated shock crossed Addie’s rapidly aging face. Her eyes became huge and buglike as she clutched at her throat. “What have ye done?”
“What someone should’ve done a long time ago.” I released Kenna’s fingers. This one I could handle on my own. Stepping forward, I balled my hand into a fist and punched the old woman smack in the face. “That’s for hurting Jamie!”
“And for calling me a sidekick!” Kenna added as the hag dropped to her knees and crumpled into a heap on the floor. Stripped of her wickedness, she appeared nothing more than a pathetic old woman. Innocuous, if not benign.
I stared at the miraculous ring on my finger, wondering how such an innocent-looking object could harness the power of the Almighty Protector of Doon—who somewhere along the way had become my guardian as well. I harbored no delusions that Kenna and I possessed latent superpowers; it’d simply taken an unwavering belief in the light to extinguish the dark.
Jamie rushed to my side and gathered me in his strong arms. I gratefully leaned into his solid warmth, clinging to him as fatigue washed through me. Being a warrior was seriously exhausting!
“How did ye know?” His voice was as gentle as I’d ever heard it, filled with wonder and something more intimate, meant only for me.
Leaning back, I searched his dark eyes. “Know what?”
“How did you know that you had to be willing to die to invoke the power of the substitution?”
“It was something the king—your father—said to me. That when the time came I’d have to be willing to make a sacrifice for your sake.” I lowered my head and then glanced at him from under my lashes, tapping the left side of my chest with two fingers. “It wasn’t a hard decision. I just followed my heart.”
CHAPTER 40
Mackenna
Just when I thought real life couldn’t get more theatrical, hag-Addie started to cackle again. Her hateful, brittle laugh scraped over me like dead branches in February. Vee spun in Jamie’s embrace just as Fergus and Duncan moved toward the witch with weapons drawn. But with a puff of wind, she … vanished.
The room went oddly silent as scenes flitted through my mind: the Phantom vanishing on Christine, Sondheim’s witch disappearing into the woods, the Wicked Witch of the West shrieking, “I’m melting!” That was always the end, right? There ought to have been music underscoring the moment so we could rejoice it was over and that we’d won.
Fergus kicked Addie’s empty cape with the tip of his boot. “She’s gone.”
When Vee started to frown, Jamie picked her up off her feet and twirled her in a circle. “Tha’s a good thing. Ye did it! You beat her.”
Over their whirling forms, I looked to Duncan for final confirmation. As he watched his brother and my best friend, he grinned, his smile equal parts smirky and awestruck. He brushed his dark hair back from his forehead so that it stuck up in those fantastic damp spikes. There was something so familiar—so comfortable and endearing— in the gesture, as if my heart had known him a lifetime. Our eyes locked. His velvet brown gaze radiated with expectancy that tugged at my soul.
The gossamer strands of a long-forgotten memory floated across my consciousness. Sunshine and summer heat. Someone standing on the Brig o’ Doon waiting for me. As I struggled to remember, a clock chimed from somewhere in the house. The melody of the bells pierced the thought and snapped me back to the present.
Duncan’s face grew pale, his smile slack. Heavy with shock, he murmured, “Midnight.”
With a gasp, Vee pushed out of Jamie’s arms to face me with round eyes. “Please tell me you set the clocks ahead.”
A couple of minutes. “Not enough.”
In my head, I could imagine Addie still cackling from wherever she’d gone and gloating, “Ye will never make it back across the bridge in time ta save your beloved Doon.”
Jamie clutched Vee’s arm. His manner became clipped and efficient as he pulled the new queen to his side. “The fastest way to the riverbank?”
In spite of the panic on her face, Vee remained calm. “Up the stairs and out the back door.” Before her words were finished, they were moving toward the exit.
Duncan crossed the room in a half dozen determined strides. My stomach plummeted as he reached for me. I longed for him to take me in the shelter of his arms and kiss me senseless. Instead, I grasped his powerful hand and let him drag me behind Jamie and Vee.
Just before the door, I pulled away long enough to scoop up Aunt Gracie’s journal and the upended duffel. I stuffed the book into the bag and thrust it at Vee. “Take this. Whatever you do, don’t drop it.” There were questions in her eyes but she slipped the strap horizontally across her torso and rushed into the pitch-black corridor.
Duncan waited at the doorway, his eyes voicing a particular question. He would never return to Doon if I didn’t. Or at least if he didn’t think I was going back. Before he could say anything, I grabbed his arm, tugged him into the hallway, and whispered, “I’ve changed my mind about staying in Doon.”
Feeling physically sick, I watched as wonder crossed his face, followed by relief and a new determination to get to the bridge. Duncan’s hands pressed into my back, urging me to climb the stairs two at a time. As we raced through the darkened house and out the back door, I thought of Aunt Gracie. How before she died, she’d promised me she was going to recover. But she couldn’t.
The clock from Alloway’s main strip started to toll the hour.
Once on the footpath, Duncan interlaced his fingers with mine. Anchored to his side, I had no choice but to match his long gait stride for stride. Just ahead of us, Jamie propelled Vee in a similar manner while Fergus sped past us to take the lead.
My side ached.
I focused on the bend that led to the Brig o’ Doon.
