“Here is the Underworld,” he answers simply, ignoring my other question. “Go now. Corinne?”
She raises her hand and mutters some strange words. A strange glow washes over us and we are transported somewhere else. Somewhere dark. It takes a second for my Vampire night sight to kick in. My stomach drops and I want to be sick. I spin around in disbelief as the chill night air seeps into my very soul.
“No!” I shout. “No!” Louder and louder until my voice is hoarse. I drop to my knees, my hands on the damp grass as I hear Devon whisper behind me with dread, “Culloden.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
I close my eyes tightly, hoping this is a dream or a nightmare. It is a nightmare. My worst nightmare. I haven’t set foot back here since that day and I had every intention of never seeing this place again. I hear the three sharp intakes of breath and Cole’s, “Motherfucker.” I open my eyes, hoping to be anywhere but here, but I can still feel the wet grass underneath my hands. I sob in horror as I see the scene playing out before my eyes. The sounds of battle are loud in my ears. I see him. I see Fraser. Hard to miss, cutting a swath through the government soldiers. I struggle to stand and push off CK’s attempts to help me. I move forward towards the scene unable to look away. It’s playing back as sure as if it was that day in April of 1746. My eyes are completely focused on Fraser. I hear my voice scream for him as everything literally slows down. He is run through viciously with a sword twisted and pulled up and out. The man who killed him turns briefly towards me and I realize now why I never really saw what happened. It’s because it happened in super speed.
Vampire speed.
It was Gregor.
Gregor had killed my husband in battle.
Time speeds up again and I see myself as Emily reach him and kneel beside him, ripping my wrist open to feed him my blood, to turn him, to save him, but he was already gone. I’m weeping, the tears falling down my face as I relive the worst moment of my life in High Definition.
“You know, lass, I would have been furious with you, had I still been alive for you to turn me,” Fraser’s voice comes out loud and clear behind me and I spin. Seeing him standing there, all six feet seven inches of him close enough for me to touch, my heart lurches.
“Fraser,” I whisper.
“Aye, lass, it’s me. You on the other hand…” He waves his hand at me. “Pretty enough, but not my wife.” He gives me that devastating smile and I Shift instantly. I feel my hair tumble down my back in soft curls. I feel myself getting slightly taller and the bodice of my dress gets slightly tighter.
“There she is, m’anam charaid,” he whispers softly, touching my face. My soul mate. I clap my hand up to his, feeling him, real, in front of me once again. He leans down and picks me up into his arms, lifting my feet clean off the ground.
“It’s good to see you again,” he says.
I’m still speechless, crushing him to me, never wanting to let go.
Finding my voice eventually, I say what I have wanted to say to him every day for two hundred and sixty-six years: “I love you. I miss you.” I know that my men are watching this, but I don’t care. In that moment, I just want Fraser. I pull his mouth to mine and kiss him desperately. He moans into my mouth and kisses me back before pulling away with a sad smile. “Do you know why you are here, lass? Why you were sent here?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t know. To let go? I don’t want to let you go. Not ever again,” I whisper urgently.
He sighs and says, “Did you see what you were supposed to see? Did you see who killed me?”
I nod hesitantly, shaking all over.
“You know that I would have been dead either way?”
I stare at him dumbly, not following.
“Sweet Emily. Even if I had let you turn me, I still would have been killed that day. Not by a sword to the gut, but to my neck. There was nothing you could do to save me. You have to forgive yourself and let go. Let me go.”
“No! I should have gotten to you sooner. I should have saved you,” I say vehemently.
He shakes his head sadly. “No, my love. It was inevitable. He came for me and he got me.”
“Oh, Fraser. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. If you hadn’t ever met me, it wouldn’t have happened.” I weep openly into his shirt.
He laughs sadly. “And the alternative? Never knowing you, never loving you, never sharing your bed and being your husband. Ending up dead in battle anyway, or in prison for treason? No, my love. This is how it was meant to be.”
I cling to him, not able to let go.
“Forgive yourself, Emily. It’s the only way,” he says.
He turns then to Constantine, who is watching us intently. “There is a lot to come. Protect her for me,” Fraser says.
Constantine nods stoically. “Of course,” he says.