They came around a rocky bluff, and something prickled at Helen’s sixth sense. There was a long stretch of rocky beach ahead of them, but between the path and the beginning of the beach was a lot of thick trees. It looked like an ideal hiding place… and as she scanned the area, she realized with a jolt that she could hear a distant sound… could it be a bird, singing at sunset? The cry came again, and she heard Niall gasp beside her. That confirmed it. It wasn’t a bird. It was the cry of a child — a small, lost child, a child who’d been taken from his father.
“That was Eamon’s voice,” Niall said, staring wildly at the shore ahead of them. They kicked their horses into a faster gait, tearing up the shoreline, hearing the cries get louder as they peered through the trees, desperate to see some sign of the boy on the shore… and Helen cried out when she spotted something, pulling her horse to a stop and almost flying off over its neck as it screeched to a halt on the rocky path. But she was already leaping down from its neck, running into the trees, heedless of the branches whipping at her face as she ran. There had been a shape on the ground, up closer to the water in an area that was surrounded by low bushes, ideal for hiding. She slowed as she approached, trying to get control of herself — and Niall almost crashed into her from behind. She seized him by the wrist, raising a finger to her lips.
There Eamon was, maybe forty feet away from them. In the sunset light, she could just make out the boy’s tear streaked face — his hands were bound behind him and he was sitting on the sand a couple of feet from the water’s edge. Occasionally, he’d utter low, heartbroken scream, but it was clear that he’d almost given up any hope of rescue.
“Perry’s probably hiding in the bushes,” Helen breathed to Niall. They were still in the treeline, hopefully hidden from view. “He’d be waiting to jump out once the monster comes for Eamon.”
“Which she won’t,” Niall said in a low voice, reaching down to unsheathe his sword. She heard the low grate of the metal against its scabbard, felt a chill run down her spine as she realized, perhaps for the first time, just how dangerous the man beside her was. She felt a rush of gratitude that he was on her side — that she had nothing to do with the man who’d drawn this ire out of him. “You go to Eamon. I’ll find Perry.”
She nodded, her jaw tight. It was a good plan — she’d be the distraction, and Niall could figure out where Perry was hiding. So she stepped out onto the rocky beach, feeling the stones shifting under her boots as she strode along the beach, headed for Eamon. His head whipped up at the sound of her boots and she saw his eyes widen when he saw her. But to her surprise, he didn’t cry out — he just shook his head furiously, fear on his face — then jerked his head over his left shoulder, clearly indicating one of the bushes. Helen glanced behind her and saw Niall in the shadows of the trees, nodding furiously — he’d seen what his son was pointing at. The bush that Perry was hiding in.
What a brave boy, she thought to herself, her eyes welling up with tears. Even in this dire situation, he’d had the wherewithal to help them catch the man who’d kidnapped him.
It was important to keep the man’s attention on her, she knew that, even as Niall slipped around, clearly determined to creep up on the bush from the other side. So she called Eamon’s name, rushing forward, making as much sound as she could as she raced toward him. It wasn’t all an act — she was desperate to see him, desperate to take him into her arms and make sure he wasn’t hurt. Seeing him alive had been such a relief, but now her fears about his death had been replaced by new fears. Fears that he was hurt, fears that he was traumatized, fears that she wasn’t going to be able to reach him — that she’d get halfway before Perry would leap out and take him away again, somehow…
That’s not going to happen, she told herself firmly, calling Eamon’s name again. She could hear him weeping, but there was a happier note to his sobs — tears of relief that he’d been found, that he wasn’t alone anymore. She couldn’t imagine how frightened he’d been, what an awful day he’d had… and finally she’d reached him, and she was on her knees, pulling him into her lap, wiping the tears from his face as she held him tight. His little body was trembling — he was missing one shoe, and the bare foot was dirty and bruised. She checked him over for any other injuries.
“Eamon — are you hurt, does anywhere hurt?”
But he couldn’t answer her — he was too busy weeping. Her cursory checks revealed no injuries — but his hands were tied behind him with rough rope that resisted her attempts to yank it free. She was so immersed in checking on Eamon, on making sure that he wasn’t badly hurt, that she’d completely forgotten about Perry — about the man who was no doubt hiding, watching her and the boy. Why hadn’t he leapt out to confront her? Wasn’t he worried about her taking the bait away? She kept her eyes low, not wanting to reveal that she knew where he was hiding… then she realized what he was up to. He didn’t mind her being there. She was just more bait for the Monster, as far as he was concerned. Anger flared in her stomach.
“He wants to hurt her,” Eamon whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming — but she was greatly reassured that he was still able to speak. She’d met traumatized children during her career — victims of kidnappings who were so traumatized by their experiences that they could no longer speak. The idea of the almost too-chatty Eamon having his voice claimed like that was too scary to think about. “He wants to hurt the Monster… he says she’ll come to eat me and then he’ll stab her…”
“She won’t come,” Helen whispered, keeping her voice low as she struggled to untie the knots binding Eamon’s hands behind him. They were cruelly tight — he’d have some rope burn to contend with, that was for sure. It could have been worse, though. It could have been so much worse. “She’s hiding at the bottom of the Loch. He won’t be able to hurt her, I promise.”
Still, she couldn’t help but look out over the water, imagining seeing the Monster’s great head emerging from the water. We could use her help, honestly, she thought with some amusement, holding Eamon close. But as she glanced at the calm surface of the Loch, the warm orange light of sunset dancing from its waves, something caught her eye. Something strange… something that didn’t belong. Was that driftwood? No — it was too still, not moving with the movement of the water. What was that? Two pointed, triangular shapes, sticking up from the water — and as she watched, one of them seemed to flick. It was horribly familiar… and her heart leapt into her throat when she realized what it looked like.
They were two ears. Horse ears, standing up straight in the water, trained on the shore. And as she watched, they rose up, revealing the top of a horse’s head. But that was no horse, she knew, her heart pounding sickly. That was a Kelpie. And from what she could see of the creature’s head, it was much, much bigger than the one they’d dragged into town, what felt like a hundred years ago.
Eamon hadn’t seen it — she drew him close, not wanting to scare him, but her heart was pounding a mile a minute as she carefully reached down to check that she still had her iron blade on her. The Kelpie’s ears flicked back when she touched it, and she realized that it must be able to sense the iron — that was probably the only thing keeping it back from her. Carefully, she gathered Eamon in her arms and went to rise to her feet, distracted so thoroughly by the stalking Kelpie that she completely forgot that Perry was loitering in the bushes nearby. As she stood, a rustle of branches gave him away — and he leapt out of the bushes, thrusting a spear toward her as he roared at her to stay exactly where she was.
He doesn’t look good, she thought faintly, staring into the man’s half-wild eyes. His clothing was dirty and torn — had he changed it since they’d seen him on the docks? — and his beard was unkempt and tangled. He looked thin, too — he clearly hadn’t been feeding himself — but he seemed strong enough as he waved the spear. She froze as instructed, wary of allowing any harm to come to Eamon, and Perry leered at her.
“You again,” he spat. “The monster apologist. Well, I hope you’re ready to be eaten alive
by your precious pet. You and the brat — get back to the water’s edge.”
And that was when Niall struck. Quickly, effortlessly, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, he rose up from a nearby bush and seized the spear from Perry’s hands. Not expecting the attack, Perry yelped in confusion and rage as his weapon was dragged from his hands — he hurled himself at Niall, who hung onto the spear for dear life, grimacing as he angled Perry until his back was to the water… what was he doing? Eamon’s eyes were wide as saucers as he watched his father struggle with Perry, the man spitting incoherent curses as he fought to wrest his spear back from his old friend… and then, with a brief look toward the water, Niall let the spear go.
Perry staggered back, not expecting the sudden release of the spear, stumbling toward the water’s edge… where, Helen realized with a muffled scream, there was now an enormous, dripping-wet Kelpie stallion, standing in the shadows with its black eyes fixed on Perry MacCullen.
Chapter 58
“You tried to use my son as bait,” Niall said in a voice she’d never heard from him before — terrible and frightening, hoarse with the force of his fury. “Why don’t you try it?”
“What in God’s name is that?” Perry whispered, clutching the spear tightly. The Kelpie took a few more steps out of water and he lifted the spear, causing the creature’s ears to flick back in annoyance as it hesitated, the iron clearly doing its job. Perry looked over his shoulder at Niall, who had moved away to come and stand at Helen’s side, a twisted smile on his handsome face.
“What’s the matter, Perry? Didn’t you want to draw a monster from the Loch? Here it is, ready and waiting for you.”
Perry squared off against the Kelpie, narrowing his eyes a little as the creature tossed its head, clearly not impressed with the iron. But those sharp black eyes were darting all around the place, reading the situation, clearing already figuring out what was going on… and detecting Perry’s weaknesses, his reach. It took a few more steps out of the water, Loch water streaming from its mane and tail… but Helen knew full well that the creature’s mane would never dry, not truly.
It was enormous — it was taller than Perry even at the shoulder, bigger than even the enormous draft horses she’d seen pulling plows in farms in the village. And like the dead one she’d seen, there was something subtly wrong with its muscles… something about the way they rippled and shifted under its silky black coat suggesting they weren’t muscles, but something else entirely. It reminded her, she realized with a jolt, of the movement of a water bed. That was a strange image to come to mind. Was it possible that the creature was composed of living water, somehow? That its skin was a thin layer, holding in the water that it was made of? That would make sense… but her mind moved from the composition of the monster to its deadliness as it tossed its head, making a charge at Perry that it called off at the last second, shying away from the iron spear. But it had learned what it wanted to learn, she realized with a frightened shiver — Perry had flinched away from it, and there was a look of triumph in its eye. Now it knew he was frightened.
“Where’s the Monster?” he demanded, looking over his shoulder at Niall. “What’s this trained horse you’ve brought out here?”
Niall barked incredulous laughter. Even after all this time, Perry was still in denial? “Your commitment to your delusion would be admirable if it hadn’t caused the deaths of two men,” Niall said firmly. But to Helen’s surprise — and unease — he wasn’t the only one laughing. There was a strange, deep chuckling sound coming from the Loch, for all the world as though a person was standing there and laughing. No — not a person.
The laughter was coming from the Kelpie.
Perry turned back to the creature, clearly unnerved by the laughter even as he raised his spear defensively. It took another step toward him, curiosity clear in its cold black eyes.
“What are you?”
“You know what I am.”
The voice was unexpected. Shockingly deep, shockingly human, accented lightly — Helen realized with a strange thrill that it was the same accent that Maggie and Darter spoke with. A Scottish accent, but something about it was a little different to the way the people of the castle spoke. Was it the accent of the Fae? She remembered Maggie mentioning that the Kelpie were capable of human speech — it was so strange, still, to watch this creature speak, to see the lips of a horse move and shift with the vowels and consonants of human language. Wrong, somehow. It sent a chill down her spine, and she felt Eamon bury his face in her shoulder, clearly too frightened to continue to watch the standoff that was happening. The dull clink of metal distracted her attention briefly, and she realized that Niall was holding the iron bridle. But the Kelpie was still speaking.
“I am the water. I am the wind. I am your death.”
“You’re — you’re — “ Perry’s whole body was stiff as he stared uncomprehendingly at the monster before him. As it spoke, its lips had lifted up, revealing its razor-sharp teeth. She remembered the accusation Perry had leveled about the first Kelpie’s body — that Niall had filed down the teeth of a dead horse. He is probably regretting that now, she thought with a thrill of fear. Were they about to watch a man be eaten alive? She put a hand on the back of Eamon’s head, not wanting him to be any more traumatized than he was already. “You’re a Kelpie,” he said, finally.
The creature whinnied in amusement, pawing at the rocks beneath it with one hoof. “So the humans call us,” it uttered, and she could hear scorn dripping from its voice.
“You — you killed my brothers.”
“You killed my brother and dragged his body into your town square,” the Kelpie said thoughtfully, no emotion in its voice.
“That wasn’t me.”
“All men are the same man,” the Kelpie said dismissively… and Helen felt an odd tingle of recognition, thinking of the way Maggie had held them all responsible for the harm that Perry had done to the Monster. Did the Fae really think of them that way? As interchangeable parts of the same whole? To be fair, she thought with a pang of guilt, that is how we thought of the Kelpies.
“I think that’s the lead stallion,” she whispered to Niall.
He nodded, not taking his eyes off the beast. Thankfully, the Kelpie was too engaged with the conversation with Perry to overhear them.
“You killed my brothers!” Perry said again now, anger beginning to show in his voice.
The Kelpie tossed its head, an oddly equine gesture. “Killed them and ate them whole,” it said, its eyes glinting. “Did I pull your brothers from boats, or did I kill your brothers on the lake shore? It was all the same to me. You tethered the foal here, on the shore, to lure me?”
Perry was reeling. “I — I thought the Monster would come —”
The Kelpie snorted. “Dull Seelie creature. Too slow to catch me, though she ate six of my brothers. No matter. I’ll kill you now, human man, and devour your flesh. Join your brothers in death.”
Perry roared, fury in his voice, and lunged forwards, driving the spear toward the Kelpie. But for such a large horse, it was surprisingly agile. Helen watched in shock as it dodged to the side, its hooves churning up the stones as it shifted around, lightning quick, rearing up onto its hind legs to strike out at him with its unshod hooves, sharp as blades in the warm orange light. Eamon had turned his head back to watch the conflict, and he screamed, clearly frightened, wriggling his hands furiously in the ropes that bound them. Frustrated, she yanked at the rope — and to her relief, the ropes finally gave way, releasing the little boy’s hands from their bindings. The rope dropped to the ground beneath and Eamon rubbed his wrists, which were red raw from the ropes.
Perry was screaming, completely berserk, a guttural sound that ripped itself free from him as he stabbed at the Kelpie again and again like a wild animal. There was nothing careful in it, nothing calculated — he didn’t seem to care about his own life at all, so desperately fixated was he on killing the Kelpie before him. But the spear missed,
again and again, and every time it missed, the horse struck him — lashing out with a hoof here, swiveling to knock him flying with its huge haunches, lashing out with a hind hoof to wind him. The horse whinnied in triumph as one particularly well-placed blow smashed the handle of the spear and sent the two halves flying — Perry stared up at it in fury, then scrambled after the top half, grabbing it just in time to send the Kelpie reeling back from him. Now it was the length of a short sword, he had lost the advantage of keeping the Kelpie at a distance — it closed in, nipping at him with its sharp teeth, and Helen gasped as she saw wounds appearing faster than she’d thought possible in the man’s clothing. It tore a piece out of his shoulder, drawing a guttural shriek of pain from him — and, sick to her stomach, she watched it toss its head back to swallow the piece of flesh whole, its eyes sliding shut with seeming pleasure at the taste of the raw flesh. And when its eyes opened again, they were glowing a deep, crimson red.
Niall wasn’t at her side any longer. She’d been so distracted by the fight that she hadn’t seen or heard him slip away — but there he was, creeping past Perry stealthily, giving the battlefield a wide berth as he slowly but surely crept up behind the Kelpie. Sure enough, he had the iron bridle in one hand, and she realized with a shock that he was going to try to get it onto the Kelpie. She thought of the effort it took her to get a horse to put on a regular bridle, and a shiver ran down her spine. Was he going to be able to pull it off? It was a good plan — distract the horse with Perry, then try to get the bridle onto it while it was focused on its prey… but what if it went wrong? He had his iron sword at his belt but watching Perry struggle to keep the Kelpie at bay with an iron weapon, she worried whether that would be enough to keep him safe. What if Eamon, only just rescued, watched his father die at the teeth of the creature that he’d been saved from?
But there was nothing she could do. All she could do was watch and wait — and pray that Niall managed to pull off what he was attempting. She watched his face, the intensity of his movements, the careful way he was creeping up behind the Kelpie and realized with a shock that what he was doing would potentially save Perry’s life. She knew that wasn’t his main goal here — but as she watched him, she saw the worried way he was looking at his former friend. There was some part of him there that was wanting to protect his friend — she could see by the look in his eye. He may well have wanted to kill Perry earlier, but now, when it counted… well, he was doing what he could to save his life.
Needed By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Forever Book 5) Page 35