by Hazel Hunter
At the barn she stopped to look up at the stronghold. She didn’t hate or fear Dun Chaill anymore. That had come from the terror she’d brought with her from her time. She could see it was just a rundown castle with some interesting secrets. With her power she might help the clan locate and destroy all the old traps, and make it a safer place to live. Maybe she’d even find out what had happened to the demon that had built it.
A dark shape came out from behind the barn. “Edane gave you pearls.”
Kiaran sounded almost polite, which made her smile a little. She’d been expecting him to come after her, but this time she wouldn’t make a fuss.
“I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you mean.” She watched one of his kestrels drop down to perch on his shoulder. “Were you watching the greenhouse?”
“Aye.” He stroked the bird’s head with gentle fingertips. “I ken you’re no’ in league with the demons, Mistress.”
Now that did surprise her. “How do you figure that?’
“Broden told me how you refused him, and then made your heart naked to him. A spy wouldnae do thus.” The kestrel released a sharp cry and flew off his shoulder. He frowned at the bird before he folded his arms and leaned back against the front barn wall. “Aye, and there’s how you came to me in the passage, and bid me flee, when I’d chased you down with sword in hand. We might have burned together, there in the flames.”
“You’re welcome.” His nice act didn’t fool her any more than it had the bird. He wanted something. “So how come you’re still tailing me?”
“You bedded him.” Before she could reply he added, “I can smell him on you.”
He didn’t sound disgusted, exactly. More like disapproving. Like Mickie.
“It’s okay. I’m going to make him marry me tomorrow.” That didn’t sound as funny as it had before, and she sighed. “I’m kidding. We’re just having fun. You know, what people do when they’re not being you.”
“You ken naught about my brother.” Kiaran pushed himself away from the wall. “Edane wasnae born with the strength or talent for the bow, nor would his sire teach him. He taught himself until he gained both. By will alone he took his place among us, and learned how to hunt. Since we attained immortality, he’s devoted himself entirely to the clan. Alone he faced down a demon and a collapse to save you, but ’tis his nature. No man I ken possesses more courage or resolve.”
Nellie caught a little hint of jealousy in his tone, too. “I may not know his life story, but I get that he’s a great guy. Anyone can see that.”
“Then look to yourself, Mistress,” the falconer said. “You’re lovely, but beneath the pretty skin you’ve no courage or honor. You use deception as easily as you laugh. You think of naught but yourself and your wonts. You yet use my brother as your slave. You claim you’re having fun, but ’tis all you may offer him. ’Tis no room in your heart for Edane or this clan. You dinnae belong here.”
Nothing tempted her to correct him, so Nellie remained silent until he walked away. She watched him enter the back of the stronghold, and then turned to retrace her steps to the greenhouse. She didn’t hurry, for Kiaran’s harsh words kept echoing in her head.
No courage or honor.
Kiaran would never like her. That much was clear. Even if she’d told him the truth about why she’d become the fun-loving flapper, it wouldn’t absolve her in his eyes. On the contrary. He’d say it was proof of her nature. And instead of being herself when she’d escaped the underworld, somehow, she’d come here as Nellie Quinn. The farm girl was gone. So was the bureau agent. Maybe she couldn’t be anyone else now.
Maybe he’s right about me.
Nellie knew the score. If she stayed at Dun Chaill Edane would be hers, but no matter what she did the clan would only tolerate her. Kiaran would definitely make sure of that. Domnall might keep the peace for a time—the chieftain had that knack—but eventually the other men would have to choose sides. That would divide them, and the contention would make Jenna and Rosealise resent her. The strain would grow until it became impossible for Nellie to stay, but her lover wouldn’t let her leave without him.
Edane had been with these men for over a thousand years. She’d been a sparkle in his eye for less than a week. She couldn’t take him from his family.
Instead of the greenhouse Nellie went to the stables, where she brought out and saddled the mare she’d planned to steal. For a moment she stroked the long rope of pearls with shaking fingers before she took it off and hung it beside the horse’s empty stall.
Much as Nellie wanted to, she wouldn’t steal Edane’s dream. Maybe one day he’d find a gal worthy of him and his clan as well as his pearls. She hoped so.
Leading the mount outside, she pulled herself up into the saddle, and considered which direction to take. She felt eyes on her, and tugged on the reins to turn the mare away from the forest and toward the river. As she walked the horse past the kitchens, she saw a tall silhouette standing at the window.
This time Kiaran didn’t chase after her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
GALAN ROSE BEFORE dawn to search the skies, but clear weather again prevailed. He’d have to continue his search for the wench on horseback, crossing the highlands one plodding league at a time. Finding a mortal wench adept at trickery and theft would be the lesser of two difficult tasks. If the prince’s half-brother still lived, he had remained so well-hidden that he’d never once been sensed by the other demons, just as they had never discovered where the Mag Raith now secreted themselves.
Could the hunters have somehow found the same means as the outcast had used to shroud their presence in the mortal realm?
In the barn Galan cast a ward over Fiana’s bones to protect them in his absence, and then went to the stables to retrieve his mount. When he led the horse outside, he saw only a few demons standing sentinel, and two unfamiliar pack horses tethered to a post.
On the other side of the village a crowd of Sluath had gathered around one of the animal pens. Inside the fence Danar stood with two mortals in traveling robes.
Druids.
Tying his mount by the other two, Galan pulled his cloak hood up over his head and walked to the pen. Danar held each druid by the shoulder, and grinned as he listened to the suggestions being shouted by the other demons.
“Give them blades and have them fight.”
“Toss them into the well. See if they float or sink.”
“Make them use their magic on each other.”
Galan shouldered his way to the fence to get a closer look at the pair. Both wore the unmarked robes of acolytes, and the similarity of their features and coloring suggested they were bloodkin. The taller of the two, however, had the calm, ancient eyes that came from many incarnations. This close he could also feel a hint of the power the older druid possessed, and something more: the sickly-sweet odor of flesh rot.
A willing sacrifice.
That druid had likely known this journey would end him.
“Tell me why you came here, and I’ll let you live,” Danar told the druids as he drew two of the long blades from his wings. “Or say nothing, and I’ll cut off bits of you and feed them to my men.”
The shorter acolyte’s throat moved as he stared at the daggers, and then met the gaze of his companion.
“’Tis naught to fear, my son,” the older druid said. “We shall meet again in the well of stars.” He regarded the big demon. “We ken you dinnae dine on mortal flesh, deamhan. If you wish to end us, simply do so.” He smiled. “Or we may do the work for you.”
The acolyte took in a quick breath and turned, flinging himself against Danar. The deamhanan shouted and clouted him away, but not before the druid had impaled himself on one of his blades. His face emptied as he dropped to his knees and fell forward, driving the dagger to punch through the back of his robe.
Galan drew in the scent of the lad’s blood and death, but unlike that of mortals it gave him no satisfaction. As quickly as the heat filled his head, it disa
ppeared. When he opened his eyes, he saw the remaining druid scanning the faces of the demons as if looking for someone.
“Tell me why you came here,” the big demon said, “or I’ll blind you, cut out your tongue, and feed it to the swine.”
“’Tis no need to torture me for that. You violated a sacred site near this village under our protection.” The druid calmly folded his hands inside his robe’s sleeves. “Our council sent me to speak with the one responsible.”
The Sluath laughed and jeered at him before the big demon lifted his hand for silence.
“You think to punish the Sluath for trespassing, little tree-worshipper?” Danar leaned down to peer into his eyes. “It would not be wise to attempt a spell. Even now your life slips from your flesh.”
“’Tis the way of the dying. We ken we might. My son didnae wish me to travel to the stars alone.” At Galan’s contemptuous sound the other druid turned his head to stare at him. “There you are. I bring a message for you from Bhaltair Flen, head of the druid council.”
“My old friend has indeed risen high.” Amused now, he pulled back his hood. “Deliver his message, then.”
“For your evil acts against mortal and druid kind, you shall die a mortal death, and no’ be permitted to reincarnate,” the druid told him. “Surrender to Master Flen, and for the haven you once provided for his tribe, he shall assure you’re given a quick and merciful end.”
How like Bhaltair to repay a debt with vengeance. Galan flung off his cloak and leapt over the fence, summoning his power as he strode toward the druid.
“Aye, opening Fiana’s grave, ’twas my doing. She belonged to me, no’ Flen.” He seized the druid by the throat. “Your cowardly master cannae threaten me. I’m beyond his reach now, but no’ he from mine. Soon I shall hunt him down and tear the soul from his chest. Do you hear me?”
“Aye, as do the Gods,” the druid choked out. “Surrender or you shall be damned for eternity, Aedth–”
The druid’s neck snapped, and he went limp.
Galan stared into the ancient eyes, which sparkled for a moment as if with joy before they clouded and went flat. Dropping the body, he raised his boot and stomped on the young, slack face until it became unrecognizable.
The demons who had gathered around the fence grumbled bitterly as they wandered off to resume their posts. Danar bent to turn over the younger druid and yanked his dagger from his belly.
Galan wiped the gore from his boot on the druid’s robe before he regarded the big demon. “Now you shouldnae again doubt my loyalty.”
“Find Nellie Quinn and you may take my place at the prince’s side.” Danar looked toward the south, breathing in deeply before he grinned broadly. “Don’t ride out yet, Aedth. By sunset you’ll not need the nag.”
Although the skies remained clear, a subtle change in the air made the wings on Galan’s back itch to spread. Then he knew what the big demon sensed. “A storm comes.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WAKING UP TO find himself alone in the greenhouse had Edane on his feet in a heartbeat. He tugged on his trousers and boots and tossed his tunic over his shoulder before he hurried out. The ward he’d cast remained undisturbed. No one had taken her in the night. She’d left.
A tired-looking Broden intercepted him on the way to the stronghold. “She’s gone, Brother.”
Edane shook his head. “From my arms, aye, but Nellie wouldnae–” The sight of the pearl necklace in Broden’s fist silenced him. “Where found you that?”
“The stables,” the trapper told him. “Hung by the stall of the mare she took. She went through the forest to the river, and crossed it. I reckon the lass rides for Wachvale.”
The jolt of shock soon faded as Edane thought quickly. He had seen the strangeness in her eyes last night, and had felt her shake just before she’d gone to sleep. Now what he’d assumed to be weariness took on a darker meaning. Something had frightened her, and from her pure delight in loving him it had not been that.
Nellie remembered something more. Something that made her run from me.
“Tell the chieftain I go to find her,” Edane told Broden.
The trapper looked as if he might say more, and then nodded and handed him the pearls before heading into the stronghold.
Edane ran to his chamber to collect his best bow and his sword. Stuffing his largest quiver with iron-tipped arrows, he strapped it to his hip. He had lost his taste for the hunt long ago, but in him burned a new desire. If the demons came for his lady, he would strew the glen with their pretty carcasses.
As he made to leave through the kitchens, he found Rosealise waiting with a packed satchel.
“Our stores have not been touched, so I believe Mistress Quinn left without food or water.” The housekeeper then offered him a small cloak. “I made this to fit her. It’s still rather cool after dark.”
“My thanks, Lady Rosealise.” Nellie’s lack of provisions now plagued him. If she found her way through the ridges past Wachvale, she could travel any of a dozen trails or roads into the midlands, but she’d find little water and no food.
Domnall and Mael met him at the stables, and as he saddled his horse the chieftain said, “We’ll summon the others and ride with you, Brother.”
“After last night, you cannae leave your mates or the stronghold unprotected.” He swung up onto his mount. “’Tis best I go alone. Mayhap if Nellie sees ’tis only me, she’ll no’ hide or run. We’ve much to settle between us.”
The seneschal tied his mate’s satchel to a saddle loop. “Signal with a fire if you find you need the clan. We’ll bring our ladies with us.”
Edane clapped the big man on the shoulder before he rode out of the stables and galloped toward the river. Once he’d crossed the rushing currents, he picked up the mare’s tracks, which angled to the north side of the glen before following the edge of the forest.
He urged his horse into a hard run toward Wachvale. The spell boundary surrounded the abandoned village, but ended just beyond it. Edane knew once past the protective barrier the demons might find Nellie, as the scout had when she’d fallen into the pasturelands. What would convince her to take such a risk?
At last he approached the long stone wall dividing the glen from the now-empty pasturelands, and saw the thorny wooden gate to the village standing open. Beyond it the missing mare placidly grazed on the high sweet clover. Seeing the hobble and saddle left on her reassured and dismayed him all at once. Nellie had made sure the mare would not wander away, yet she hadn’t finished riding.
Edane walked his horse through the gate, dismounted and closed it. The thorns from the bramble branches covering the gates pricked his palms, but the shredded empty ties atop them gave him pause. When they’d come to gather the livestock left behind to starve, he hadn’t bothered to go into the village itself. He had seen the pink and white crystal spiral ward left behind on the gate.
Someone had since removed it.
Weather and time had scattered much of the remains of the once-prosperous village, leaving only a few charred stone hearths squatting on blackened earth. He left his mount hobbled beside the mare, and walked between two mounds of scorched slats. The sense of walking over burial ground came over him as he passed odd pits scoured shallow and smooth by the wind.
Between them he saw the small boot prints that Nellie had left. Her trail went from the pits across the three-sided village green, and into the only structure left standing: a tall, narrow drying shed with walls made of stone. He walked past the village well and approached it, slowing his step only when he thought of her power.
Everything Nellie touched told her its past. Coming here meant seeing the horrors inflicted by the plague. Edane stopped just outside the shed.
“My lady, ’tis me. I ken you must be… Will you come out?” When no reply came, he peered inside at the shadowy interior. “I wish only to see that you’re well.”
“Sure, have a look.” Nellie’s voice sounded tired and dull as she emerged. Soo
t begrimed her boots and streaked down the front of her garments. In her hand she held a piece of dirty wool. “I should have kept riding, but I thought…” Her brows drew together as she glanced around her. “Food. I stopped because I needed food.”
“You read what the plague did to the villagers.” He wanted to hold her in his arms, but something in her manner held him back. “’Twas a terrible thing.”
“None of them got sick.” She met his gaze, anger burning the confusion from her eyes. “That druid who bossed you around—Galan—he brought a bunch of thugs here. They murdered most of these people, and set fire to the houses. Then the demons came and culled the thugs. I saw everything they did.”
Sickened by the revelation, Edane reached out and touched the wool she still held. “Then Galan shall be made to answer for it.”
“When they left a few people were still alive.” She knotted her fist around the cloth. “Something else came and killed them, and then dragged away all the bodies. It looked like it was made of shadows.”
The feel of death clung to Nellie even after Edane had taken her to the communal well so she could wash. Maybe it was the coldness of the water as he poured it over her hands, or the soot from all the burned things she had touched still on her clothes. Reliving the slaughter from the villager’s homes and possessions had been worse than anything she’d picked up from the walls of Dun Chaill. She definitely couldn’t live here, not after seeing that shadow monster, but she couldn’t return to the castle either.
Are we having fun yet? the cold voice sneered inside her head.
“The creature made of shadows, ’twas likely Galan,” Edane told her. “To enter the village unseen, he may have cloaked himself with a darkness ward. Ending the few living and hiding the bodies would also conceal what he did here.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not staying here.” Nellie watched him dry her hands with the edge of his tartan. “And I’m not going back with you. I don’t belong at the castle. I need to find my own place.” Far, far away from you, she added silently.