by Helen Harper
Aifric frowned. ‘You know that your name will be top of the list for the next five years. Hell, you were almost voted in last time. Become Steward and you’ll spend all your time at the Cruaich instead of here with Coira. You’ll be a stranger to your own son.’
‘Actually, I’m told the baby will be a girl. It doesn’t matter though. I won’t accept the title. I have no inclination in that direction.’
‘You might not have a choice, Gale. Extending my term is going to do you a favour.’
‘But it’ll have repercussions for everyone else too. Not just now but in the future.’ Gale shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I realise you came here seeking my support but I can’t give it. Not for this.’
For a moment, Aifric’s face was blank. Then he broke into a smile. ‘You’re just too damned principled for your own good. When you’re seated on the Cruaich throne, I’ll remind of you that.’
Gale grinned. ‘I’ll step down as Chieftain of the Adair Clan before that happens.’ He drained his glass.
Changing the subject, Aifric regarded him curiously. ‘Your Gifts,’ he said slowly. ‘Have you used them lately?’
‘You’re asking about one Gift in particular, aren’t you? The soul-punching.’
Aifric nodded.
‘No. And I have no plans to use it. I’m not even sure I know how to. Most of the first time was a blur.’
‘It’s a lot of power.’
‘A lot of destructive power. I already have everything I could possibly want. I don’t need anything else.’
Aifric picked his glass back up again and raised it in the air. ‘To you.’
‘To us.’ Gale eyed the lack of contents in his own glass. ‘I’m going to need more whisky.’
***
Aifric and his merry band departed the next day. With a pounding head, Gale waved them off. Whisky was no longer his friend. Ten years ago, perhaps; even five years ago. Now he was just too damned old.
‘You’re looking a bit green around the gills,’ Coira teased.
He curved an arm round her waist. ‘I’m never drinking again. I might have to lie down and sleep it off.’
Coira touched her belly. ‘Do that. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.’
Gale’s eyes went wide. ‘It’s time.’
‘Not quite yet but I think she’s getting ready to make her move. And,’ she added with a dancing glint in her eyes, ‘Lily gave me some noster root yesterday. It’s meant to help things along. She’s gone out this morning to get more, just in case.’ She leaned her head against his shoulder.
‘Are you afraid?’
‘Of the pain? No.’ She gnawed on her lip. ‘I’m afraid for her though.’
‘Our daughter?’
‘We’re bringing her into a scary world.’
Gale smiled. ‘She’s an Adair. She’ll do fine.’
A few hours later, when he heard the first yell, he assumed that Coira had been right and her labour was beginning. The entire Clan would be galvanised into action; it was a long time since an Adair heir had been born. When there was a second scream filled with numbing terror, however, he knew that something was heartbreakingly wrong.
He sprang off the bed and ran, following the noise. He made it to the courtyard just in time to see Coira crumple. Blood blossomed at her chest, the shaft of an arrow was embedded at its centre. An inarticulate cry ripped from his throat. He rushed to her side, gathering her up in his arms. What the hell had happened? He pulled apart her blouse and stared at the wound.
‘Who did this, Coira?’ He pressed down hard and tried to stem the blood. Too afraid to pull the arrow out and cause more damage, he fumbled. Coira moaned. ‘Hang on,’ he said desperately, ‘just hang on.’
There was no one else in sight; the entire place was deserted. Hours ago, there had been people everywhere. Now it was like a ghost town.
‘Help!’ Gale shouted. ‘Help us!’
No-one came.
Coira moaned again. ‘Save her,’ she gasped. ‘Save our daughter.’
His throat closed up and he couldn’t speak.
Her hand, slick with blood, reached up and grabbed his. ‘Gale, you have to do this. We both know I’m not going to make it. Just save her. Look after her. She’s what counts now.’
He swallowed hard. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘You’re going to be alright. I’m not going to let you leave me.’
Her body jerked, spasming as another wave of pain crashed through her. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
Tears blurred his vision. Why was he all alone? It didn’t make sense. He leaned down and listened for a heartbeat. It was faint – and failing. The pulse at Coira’s throat fluttered and went still. Gale froze.
Move, a voice inside his head urged. Move now.
He forced himself to his feet, ran and found his knife. There was no time left. Coira was gone but he could still save their daughter. He could still do what she’d asked of him. Whether her attackers were still here or not, he had to act.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He gagged at the first incision. He was no doctor and the cut was ragged and deep. He forced himself to breathe and tried again, taking more care.
There was no conscious thought now. It was as if something had taken over his body and possessed him. When he finally pulled his daughter from the body of his dead wife, there was almost nothing of the man called Gale left.
‘There he is.’
A heartbeat later pain ripped into his back. He fell backwards, the baby girl still clutched to his chest. As Gale Adair inhaled his last few breaths, his daughter breathed her first.
‘I told you he’d go looking for her. Tell the Fomori that their present worked. It was better than we could have hoped. They don’t need to worry about what lies in Gale Adair’s future. Not any more. The Adairs are no more.’
‘They’ll be pleased. The poison was fast. It’s a shame those two didn’t have breakfast, though. It would have gone easier on them if they had.’
‘Hangovers and pregnant women. Both are equally unpredictable.’
The voices swirled around Gale. They sounded as if they were coming from very far away. He struggled to hang on to each one; they were familiar but his brain was too fuzzy to focus.
The pain had gone now but he felt very, very cold.
‘What do we do with the child?’
‘Strangle it.’
Silence filled the courtyard. Then: ‘You do it then.’
There was a curse. ‘Give her to me.’
The bundle on Gale’s chest was lifted. The child cried, seeking out warmth. Gale tried to croak. He willed his hand to rise up but every limb felt leaden and heavy. If he could just bring his final Gift to the fore again, at least he’d have his revenge. But there wasn’t enough energy left inside him. He had nothing left to give.
‘We could keep her alive. As leverage. We’ll need something to keep the damned Fomori in check from now on.’
‘If she lives then so does Clan Adair.’
‘She’s just a girl. Besides, we can tell her whatever we want and she’ll believe it. Gale Adair was more powerful than any other Sidhe, living or dead. He possessed three Gifts, the last of which was soul-punching.’
The second voice sounded pleased. ‘He killed his own Clan. Every single last one of them. He thought he could be a hero but in the end he was nothing more than a genocidal maniac.’
‘Went crazy.’
There was a pause. Gale shuddered.
‘Do you think people will believe it?’
‘History belongs to the winners. In thirty years, no one will remember Gale Adair. Salt the ground and destroy all the evidence. Give the baby to the Bull. She’ll be alive but he won’t give a shit about her. It’s four years since Coira Ochterlony dumped him and he’s still sore about it. We can make up any story we want.’
Gale stared up at the sky. It was very dark. He wanted to say something. He wanted to scream bloody vengeance. His jaw worked but it
all just too much. Seconds later everything went dark.