Stark picked at the jacket of the Koontz book. “I know that, but it still makes me feel like shit. Looking back, I don’t know how I let it go on for so long.”
“What could you have done?”
“Stood up to her,” said Stark, his voice grim with self-loathing.
“She would have killed you.”
“I could’ve joined the Resistance like Dragon and the rest of you.”
“Like I said, if you had, who woulda stopped Neferet from giving the order to the Red Army to kill the humans at the TU stadium?”
Stark moved restlessly in the cushy leather seat. “I hear ya, but I still hate that it took me so long to get it right.”
“Dude, forgive yourself and move on.”
One corner of Stark’s mouth lifted in the ghost of his cocky smile. “Except for the dude part, you sound a lot like your grandma.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The driver’s voice interrupted their conversation as it came through the speaker system in the rear of the limo. “Gentlemen, we’re approaching the bridge to the Isle of Skye. Remember that I will drop you off, but I will not wait there. I’ll be at the Lochalsh Hotel for one full day before returning to Inverness. You have my card. Call if you’re ready to return.”
Stark tapped on the raised, tinted glass that separated the driver from the rear of the limo. Silently, the panel slid down so that Stark could see the driver, who had an adult Mark that looked like sapphire smoke.
“Hey, what’s the problem with waiting by the bridge?” Stark asked.
The vamp gave him a dismissive glance in the rearview mirror before responding gruffly. “You’ll see soon enough. Anything else?”
“No, I guess no—” The driver didn’t wait for him to finish to put the partition up.
“Sheesh,” Kevin said. “Have you noticed no one over here is very friendly?”
“Yeah, but I don’t really blame them. It was our High Priestess who started a war with humans that is still not resolved. I heard one of the London Sons of Erebus call us ‘colonists that can’t sort their issues.’ ”
“And that’s bad?”
Stark shrugged. “Apparently.”
The limo took a hard left. Gravel crunched under the wheels as it crept forward toward a long, narrow suspension bridge that Stark got a glimpse of before his window automatically rolled itself up.
“You can get out here,” the driver’s gruff voice sounded once more through the speakers.
Stark and Kevin grabbed their backpacks and climbed out of the limo. They’d barely closed the door when the car pulled away so quickly that it threw gravel at them.
“Hey! Why be a dick?” Kevin called after him.
“I’m losing his damn card,” said Stark.
“Good idea. And I’ll give him a shit Yelp review,” Kevin muttered as he stared at the long, narrow bridge that stretched between an outcropping of the Scottish mainland and the island. Live torches lighted it, but they did little to dispel the mist and cold that blanketed the island.
“All right. Well, this is the place.” Stark started toward the bridge. “Anastasia described it perfectly, but it’s not like there’re a bunch of ways on and off the island.” When Kevin didn’t respond, Stark paused and glanced back. Kevin had taken a couple steps after him but was currently standing still. His gaze was completely focused on the bridge. He cracked his knuckles nervously and shook his head like a cat trying to dispel water. “Hey, you coming or what?”
Kevin blinked several times and finally turned his gaze to Stark. “You don’t feel it?”
“The cold or the wet? It’s nasty out here, but it is January in the Highlands. Not exactly tourist weather.”
“Not that … Dread. Fear. And worse.”
Stark opened his mouth to make a sarcastic response, but he could see that Kevin was completely serious. His face was so pale that his red Mark looked like fresh blood, and even though it was cold there was a film of sweat on his face.
“Hey, you feeling okay?” Stark asked him.
“Nope. Not at all. I don’t want to do anything except run—and I mean away from the island. This isn’t normal.”
“Oh, shit. It’s part of the spell that protects Skye,” Stark realized.
“Then why the hell aren’t you sweating and terrified?”
Stark shrugged and his lips lifted in a cocky smile. “Maybe I’m just a lot tougher than you.”
Kevin frowned. “Riiiiight, no. I’m about one hundred percent sure that’s not it.”
“You wanna wait here? If Sgiach lets us in, I can text you.”
“Screw that.” Kevin drew a deep breath and shifted the weight of his backpack. “I’m coming with you.”
Side by side, Stark and Kevin entered the bridge. Intrigued by the mist-shrouded isle, Stark gazed around him. Far below, the water was dark and choppy. Once in a while, a wave caught in the torchlight and looked out of place with its cheery white froth.
“Don’t fucking look down!” Kevin told Stark.
“Dude, you sound panicked.”
“You have no idea. And I’m not ashamed to admit it. With every step it gets worse. I know any second this bridge is gonna break and we’ll fall down there.” Kevin pointed at the water without looking down. “And be eaten by sea monsters.”
“Sea monsters? Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. A big, bad, painful, fatal heart attack with a side of Ebola and an extra helping of being choked, stabbed, drowned, and then eaten.”
“Huh.” They’d come to the end of the bridge where there sat an arch made of white stone with veins of silver running through it. It was mesmerizing, and not in a creepy way. The silver reflected the flickering torchlight with electric beauty, like a zillion lightning bolts had been trapped within the white marble. “Wow, that’s incredible.”
“Ah, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” Kevin turned his face away from the arch.
“What the hell?”
Kevin sucked in long breaths and released them like he was in the middle of trying to bench too much weight. “I can hardly look at it.”
Stark knew he wasn’t playing. Kevin looked awful—like he might puke or bolt. Or both.
From the island side of the arch a deep, disembodied voice barked, “Ha Gaelic akiv? ”