They got Eamon inside. At that point, he seemed to have exhausted himself a little — though he was still weeping copiously, he’d stopped kicking his legs, and when Niall lifted him down from his shoulders he just buried his head in his father’s knees and cried. Sighing, Niall lead him through to his bedroom with Helen in tow. Clearly exhausted from the rocky morning he’d had, it wasn’t hard to coax the little boy into bed, where, still occasionally sniffling, he drifted off to sleep.
“Poor little guy,” Helen said softly, once they’d left him to his sleep.
“I’m the one who got yelled at,” Niall pointed out with a wan smile.
Helen reached out to touch his forearm comfortingly, surprising herself. “Poor big guy,” she said with a grin.
“That’s better,” he said primly. “Now. Do women from the future still drink wine? Because I’ve had a hell of a morning, and I think that calls for wine.”
Chapter 19
Niall came back from the kitchen with not only a tall bottle of red wine, but a few of the pastries they’d gotten from Blair, too, which Helen had forgotten about. The drama of dealing with Eamon’s tantrum had awoken her appetite, it seemed — she happily set about demolishing one of the pastries while Niall poured each of them a glass of wine. In the quiet of the dining room, with Eamon fast asleep in the other room, it felt oddly intimate… and, Helen couldn’t help noticing, a little bit romantic. Stop that, she told herself firmly. He’s just being polite… you’ve both had a stressful morning. Friends can drink wine together.
Still, she couldn’t help but smile when he clinked his glass to hers. The wine was delicious — not a grape she could identify —not that she’d ever been much good at that stuff— but she’d always liked red wine.
“So there’s still wine in the future?”
“There’s still most things,” she said with a shrug. “Wine, oatmeal — sorry, porridge — tantrums, angry groups of men with no common sense between them…”
He sighed heavily. “They’re just scared. I understand the feeling — they don’t want to be harmed by some mysterious creature, true, but by the same token, if they can’t catch enough fish to support themselves and their families they’re as good as dead anyway. The only thing we can really do is figure out what this creature is that’s doing all this… but I don’t know how we’re going to do that without risking our own lives.”
“Would it help to lay out what we do know about the creature?” she suggested. Back in her analyst days, she’d have had a whole whiteboard up already — but with whiteboards unlikely to be invented for another few hundred years (unless she was very wrong about her history) they’d have to make do with the conversational approach.
But Niall just sighed. “All we know is that it’s Unseelie. It’s strange… usually the Monster protects us from Unseelie creatures that dwell in the Loch. They come through and either meet a swift death at her jaws or make it ashore to take refuge on land. She’s a good beastie,” he added with a smile.
“You said Maggie can talk to her?”
“Aye, that’s what the rumors say. Maggie herself is a little quiet about what exactly the nature of their relationship is, but I suspect it’s a little like a dog and its master. The creature’s clever, but not as intelligent as a human. Clever enough to know who her friends are, though… and very clever when it comes to hunting down the Unseelie that creep through the Burgh. I can’t imagine what’s the matter with her this time.”
“We ought to talk to Maggie about it, surely?”
“Aye, I heard back from Malcolm. She said she’d go and speak with the monster at her earliest opportunity. So we’ll have a little more information soon, I hope. I’m just concerned about the fishermen banding together and getting some stupid ideas. I mean, Perry was talking about the Monster as though he blamed her for the disappearances… that’s a worry and no mistake.”
Helen frowned, taking another sip of her wine. It was definitely taking the edge off her nerves, but the conversation seemed to be putting the edge back on straight away. “But the fishermen know she’s a Seelie Fae.”
“Aye, they should, in theory,” he said reluctantly. “Unfortunately, the extent to which they agree with the work the Sept does… well, it varies. Some of them are all but sworn to the Sept themselves. Some — especially those from the village — are a little on the fence. And Perry’s one of those.”
“Do you know him?”
“Aye, we used to be friends, years ago. Drinking buddies,” he added with a rueful grin. “But when I became a family man, well, we drifted apart. I have a lot of respect for Perry. He’s a good man. He’s just worried because his two brothers are both numbered among the missing.”
Helen’s stomach dropped. “That’s not good,” she whispered.
“No. It’s not. But all we can do is try to get to the bottom of what happened… and hope we can stop it before we lose anyone else.”
“What do Unseelie Fae look like?” she asked, wanting to distract him a little from the heavy subject they’d gotten onto. He took a deep draft of the wine before he answered.
“There’s all sorts. The most common are goblins — Redcaps and the like. They’re about Eamon’s height, but not nearly as cute,” he said with a grin. “But there are dozens… hundreds, really. When your pal Anna first came to the castle, there was a terrible great wolf with eyes of fire. What else have we had? Hordes of goblins, strange animals… oh, Elena had a run-in with a real terror. A woman who sucked the life out of lonely men…”
“Like a vampire?”
Niall looked at her blankly for a moment, and she realized she had no idea how old the concept of a vampire was.
“A monster that sucks people’s blood,” she said vainly.
He frowned.
“Aye, something like that. Are they common, in the future?”
“No. Well — I mean, we have millions of books and movies about them, but — they’re not real. At least, I don’t think they are.” Her eyes widened a little. “That being said, I didn’t think time travel or faeries were real, either. Shit.”
He laughed — a real laugh, surprising her and filling her with warmth. It was good to see a smile chase away the worried frown that had been on his face for so long. “There’s all manner of beasties out there,” he said solemnly, raising his glass to her. “But we’ll prevail, Helen. I, for one, am glad I’ve got a woman like you in my corner.” Maybe it was the wine, but that compliment made her blush to the roots of her hair. He grinned at her, leaning a little closer as he reached out to tilt her face up from where she’d dropped it to stare at her shoes. “You don’t take compliments well.”
“Not used to them,” she stammered, acutely aware of the touch of his hand and the closeness of his face, the strong, manly scent of him, the way his eyes seemed to be boring into hers… “I don’t really… I mean, I don’t socialize much…”
“That’s a shame,” he said softly. Then he was leaning back, filling his wine glass again, and she took a steadying sip of her own, her heart pounding. “There’s nobody back home? Nobody special?”
“I guess it wouldn’t matter if there was,” she said, feeling a surprising pang of grief for her life back home. At least she hadn’t left some lover or partner behind. “But — no. Not married, not engaged, not even dating anyone. Never really got around to it.”
“That’s strange,” he said casually. “I’d imagine a woman like you would have no shortage of admirers.”
Is he flirting with me? She fought the blush that was still rampaging across her face, trying to be cool for just once in her entire goddamn life… and failed miserably. “I’m not very… no. No, I — I’ve always been a married to the job kind of gal.”
“Married to the job,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s me, these days. Well, Helen. The job is five hundred years in the future. What are you going to marry instead?” He looked at her for a long moment, and she could feel her heart pounding… she had absolu
tely no idea what to say. She’d never been flirted with this directly in all her life, and she could feel herself freezing up… but then Niall, to his credit, broke the spell with a laugh, reaching over to fill her wine glass again. “Worth thinking about, anyway. Once this investigation is over.”
“Investigation, is it?”
“Aye, I’ve adopted your word for it. Hope that’s alright.”
“More than alright,” she said, screwing her courage to the sticking place. “Sounds much nicer in your accent than in mine.”
He laughed, clearly pleased by the compliment, and she felt as proud and exhilarated as if she’d just run an entire marathon. They finished their wine, chatting a little more about Helen’s work with the FBI, and more lately as a private investigator. And when the wine was finished, Helen could tell they both felt a little more confident about getting the bottom of what was going on in the Loch.
A few days passed without incident. Resentful as they were about it, the fishermen stuck to Niall’s suggestion about not going out into the Loch after dark or before sunrise. It seemed to be effective, for what it was — no more fishermen went missing (they’d all started keeping a much closer eye on each other since the disappearances had begun, with Niall even keeping a kind of unofficial list to make sure everyone was accounted for) and neither did any of Brendan’s guards, though the missing man was mourned and strongly missed.
It was evening of the third day, and Eamon, Niall and Helen were headed up to the castle to dine with the Laird and his men — an invitation that had been sent, via Anna, earlier in the day. Eamon was absolutely thrilled, convinced that the invitation was for him specifically, and though he didn’t let on, Helen could tell that Niall was pleased to be dining with the Laird.
“Hopefully he’ll have some news about what’s going on,” Helen pointed out as she brushed her hair. It felt odd, getting ready for an event without having makeup to put on — she made a note to ask Anna if there were medieval equivalents of rouge and powder. “Surely Maggie’s had a chance to speak with the Monster by now, if speaking is what they do.”
“Aye, perhaps,” Niall said, nodding. “At least there haven’t been any more losses since we put the curfew into place.”
“But we can’t continue insisting that the fishermen restrict their work to daylight hours, can we?”
“No, you’re right there. A lot of the best fishing is done in the very early hours of the morning… there are certain species of fish that just don’t get caught during the day. At any rate, we’ll get the Laird’s insight on what’s going on.” He offered her his arm, and she took it, surprised and pleased by the gesture. “Shall we?”
“Come on, come on,” Eamon demanded, running ahead of them and drumming his fists on the wooden door to what Helen was slowly coming to think of as their quarters. Laughing, they followed the child into the cool night air, Niall calling out a warning as Eamon sprinted ahead of them at a rapid rate.
“Eamon! You’re going to fall off the docks and get eaten,” he said irritably.
“Am not, am not! Hurry up!”
“He’s excited to dine with the Laird.” Helen smiled as they started up the long set of stairs that would lead to the courtyard.
Niall nodded, smiling, but there was a distracted look in his eye. “Donal mentioned that Father Caleb from the village would be joining us.”
“Father? Like a priest?” Helen was surprised. She hadn’t heard much talk of religion since she’d gotten here.
“Aye, a priest. He doesn’t come here often. I’m worried it has something to do with the disappearances.”
With worry gnawing at her stomach, Helen followed Niall into the dining hall. Usually, she’d be excited to meet someone new. But not if it meant that there had been some horrible new development in the case…
Chapter 20
As always, the tables were groaning with food, and the noise, chatter and warmth in the Hall was enough to make Helen feel a lot less anxious about what was happening. Niall escorted her first to the table where they’d be sitting. Sure enough, there was the Laird, looking rather formal in Clan tartan — and at his side, Anna, resplendent in a gorgeous gown. Helen embraced her, murmuring a compliment in her ear about the gown — and caught the slight eye roll that was her only response, remembering with a grin how much Anna disliked long skirts. Malcolm was there too, with his wife Nancy, and Brendan and Elena were already seated at the table.
In the middle of the table was a tall, callow youth who for a moment Helen mistook for a servant, he looked so unsure of himself. But he was wearing all black, and she realized with a start that the collar he was wearing denoted a Catholic priest. This must be Father Caleb. Why, he looked all of fifteen years old — though she could tell from the slight stubble on his cheeks and the fine lines around his eyes that he must be at least into his twenties. An unfortunate look of youth, then — one that his bad posture didn’t do much to alleviate. She reached out to shake his hand as they were introduced, and he scanned her face with an expression that he clearly thought was doing a good job of hiding his fear of her. It wasn’t.
“Helen Washington,” she said with as reassuring a smile as she could muster. This man looked more nervous than she was. “You must be Father Caleb.”
“I am, I am,” he said, clearly working to make his voice deeper than its natural resting place. “I understand you’re a newcomer to the castle.”
“I am,” she said, careful not to say too much — she remembered what Anna had said about how the villagers felt about magic and Faerie activity. Somehow, she got the feeling that this priest wouldn’t want to know that she’d been brought back through time from the future by magical faeries — he seemed to be having a hard enough time meeting a woman as it was. “They’ve been incredibly gracious hosts.”
“They are known for that,” Father Caleb agreed, shooting the men around him a look as he cleared his throat and sat at the table. They all started their meal — but not before Father Caleb had piously said a few words over the food.
Laird Donal lowered his head obediently — but Helen caught the sidelong glance he shot Anna as he did. Not especially fond of the church, she gathered from that brief look. Interesting.
“You’re not from around here, Father Caleb?” she asked once the prayer was done, interested in making conversation. He shook his head around the mouthful of bread he was working on.
“No, no. From Ireland originally, but … well, I was brought here by the Lord.”
Donal cleared his throat hard, and Anna thumped him on the back with a funny expression on her face. There was clearly more to this story, and Helen leaned forward, intrigued.
“By the Lord?”
“By a band of witch-hunters,” Malcolm said quickly, his eyes dancing, and the murderous look Donal shot him reminded her so much of the interactions between her own brothers that she almost burst out laughing then and there. “Father Caleb was part of a roving band of criminals who wrongfully accused Donal of witchcraft —”
“Do we really need to tell the whole story?” Caleb squeaked.
“But he chose the right side of the conflict,” Donal said, giving Malcolm a sidelong glance that clearly promised further recrimination later. “And in gratitude for his services to the Sept, we suggested he stay and set up in the local church, which had been empty for some years.”
“Yes, well, anywhere there’s a flock, so will a shepherd find his home,” Father Caleb said piously.
Helen made a note to ask Anna more about that story later — the woman was clearly hiding a grin that suggested there was a lot more to it than had been conveyed.
“And how is the flock, Father Caleb? Forgive me, but we don’t usually see you unless something’s wrong.”
“Ah, well, yes. Unfortunately.” Caleb cleared his throat. “As much as I do love visiting you all, there is an ulterior motive to my visit.”
“Not just Blair’s cooking?”
“No,” he said quickly
, swallowing a mouthful of perfectly cooked meat. “Though that is appealing. Ah, no. It’s to do with the villagers, and with a certain amount of — dissent, that’s rising. I felt it prudent to keep you informed.”
“Dissent? Does it have anything to do with the disappearances of the fishermen? Because those have been under control.” Donal was frowning over his plate.
Caleb nodded, a guilty look on his face. “It does, I’m afraid. I was — I was at the local tavern, simply to eat a simple meal and converse with my flock, you understand — when I overheard something of a meeting in the far corner. It was led by a man called Perry MacCullen.”
That name was familiar. Helen looked up at Niall, remembering the man who’d confronted him on the docks a few days earlier — Niall’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were glazing. “Aye, I know the man,” he put in, voice rough. “What was he saying?”
“They were talking about the disappearances. The general gist of the argument was that — that it isn’t some new monster that’s killing the men. They concluded that it was the Monster of the Loch that was taking the men.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Niall said, teeth gritted. “They know as well as anyone that the Monster is an ally — it does no harm to any of us — if anything, it protects us from —”
“Well, I’ve never seen any Monster, so I couldn’t possibly comment on what it is they were talking about,” Caleb said stiffly, and she saw him reach for the crucifix that hung around his neck. “But I felt this intelligence may be of value to you all up here. You may find groups of men hunting… hunting the wildlife of the Loch, out of a misplaced idea that it’s causing these tragic disappearances.”
Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5) Page 12