not for us to interfere.” The voice was calm and without empathy.
“You do not interfere? You demanded I find a mate.”
There was no response.
He tried to keep his control. “She told me she was compelled to come here. Why?”
Still they did not respond.
Anger surged through him. “You brought her here. She needs your help. She’s dying.” He pointed to where he left her.
“Only you can help her, Grand Master.”
“Me?” He stopped short. “How? If I could she’d already be cured.”
“Why do you care what happens to her? She is just a simple Orkney witch. Nothing else.”
Ideas flashed across Max’s mind. If he was the only one that could help her the answer must lie in his greatest gift. His magick. He must get her back to Avebury, back to his magick, before the sun set.
“Here.” He unrolled the mistletoe. “Here is your talisman. Send us back to Avebury,” he demanded.
“So, you found your mate,” the Ancestor said with a satisfied voice.
Max looked at the healthy mistletoe and gaped in astonishment. The plant was dead when he’d last looked. How could it now be alive? Icy fear raced up his back. He glanced at Ellyn on the far side of the circle. Her kisses. He had teased her and it was her kiss all along.
“You hold her destiny in your hands.”
His eyes moved from the mistletoe to the Ancestors.
“I don’t understand.” He gave the Ancestors a questioning stare.
“It appears that with her last breath she has made certain you will succeed. Is there any other way for her to prove herself to you?” voiced one Ancestor.
“No,” Max whispered. “Not her last breath.”
“No? Were you not willing to fight, sacrifice yourself, to save her?” another Ancestor said. “Can you not see the love in your heart for her?”
“Then why these tests?” he demanded. “Am I not worthy? Is. She. Not. Worthy?” he asked.
“This was not your test,” the Ancestor said.
Not a test? “Then what?” Anger rolled off him in waves. “The time we’ve wasted, the pain she’s suffered.” He fisted his hand and forced himself to remain calm. “What would have happened if we didn’t find each other?” he demanded.
“It is fortunate for you both that you did,” the Ancestor said.
Max lowered his head and stared at the ground. His mind raced to think of a way to save Ellyn.
“You both needed to find your soul mates. We provided opportunities. For both of you. But know that, in time, your love for each other will be greatly tested. Your love will have to be very strong for that…test.”
Max raised his head. Of course their love was strong. His eyes found the altar. The mistletoe, alive and healthy, caught his attention. A ray of hope blossomed. Max grabbed the mistletoe from the altar. “We will be ready for your tests when the time comes.”
He rushed to Ellyn and held the mistletoe under her nose. Silently he begged her to breathe deeply but he saw no response; instead she shivered.
He knew from her shallow breaths and pale skin that she didn’t have much longer.
“Don’t leave me, Ellyn. Not when I’ve just found you,” he demanded. Distraught, he could think of nothing else but to hold her and love her.
He rested the mistletoe on the rock ledge above her head. “Stay with me,” he murmured in her ear. Her eyes closed, he kissed them, and moved on to her lips. With her cradled in his arms, he held her to his heart, and silently prayed. He witnessed the sun slip below the horizon and the last remnants of light darken—their fate sealed.
Her eyes fluttered open and a smile spread across her face. “I dreamt of you, Grand Master,” she said in a sleepy voice.
He looked deeply into her eyes and held her close. “My heart,” he murmured in her ear. “Oh, is it Grand Master now? I much prefer Max.” He let the realization of his love for her wash over him. “Ellyn. I have much to tell you.” He spoke with as reasonable a voice as he could manage.
She put her
Learning to Kill: Stories