Nature of the Beast

by Hannah Howell

  “Bell and I dinnae ken how old she was. Two score, mayhap two score and ten.”

  Berawald gently grasped her by the chin. “Think of her now, Evanna. Think of her with the clear eyes of a woman and nay the eyes of her child. Ye have seen other women of that age. How did your mother compare?”

  It took Evanna only a moment to find the answer to that question. She felt excited, for it meant there really could be a chance of some future for her and Berawald. An equal sense of unease plagued her, however, for she had suffered for her differences all her life, had lost both of her parents because of them, and did not truly wish to be burdened with even more.

  “She didnae look much older than I do,” she finally replied, hiding the unease she felt about accepting such a truth, for she did not wish to burden him with it. “But, Berawald, she had red hair. Much darker than my father’s but still red. MacNachtons dinnae have red hair, do they?”

  “Nay, but she wasnae a Pureblood. I do think her family got a dose of Pureblood MacNachton nay so verra far back in her line, however. Some of us do travel still. We have refuges scattered all over this land so that we might travel in safety if we choose to. We ne’er considered the possibility that any of our blood survived outside of Cambrun, especially since we have apparently lost the ability to breed, but we have recently had proof that there are some of our kin out there. A search has begun for them not only because our clan is in need of new blood, but also because they are most certainly in danger. As ye weel ken, the differences they will have make them a target for superstitious people or the ones who hunt down MacNachtons. I dinnae e’en want to think of how many have been killed or have had to spend their whole lives in hiding.”

  Evanna wrapped her arms around him. “It was the duty of the one who sired them to see to their safety, to tell your clan that there was a child somewhere.” She kissed the hollow of his throat and had to bite back a smile of pure feminine pride when she heard him catch his breath. “Ye search for them now. Let that be enough.”

  “It has to be, doesnae it?” He stroked her back, certain that he would never get enough of feeling her smooth, soft skin beneath his hands. “I think I may have found two of our Lost Ones.”

  “Aye, I begin to think ye may have. Is that what ye call us? Lost Ones?”

  He looked at her face and frowned slightly. “It seemed to be a fitting name. Ye dinnae seem to be verra sure about wanting to carry MacNachton blood. I thought ye had accepted what I am.”

  She gave him a quick, hard kiss. “I have accepted what ye are. Never doubt that.”

  “But ye dinnae wish to be of my kind.”

  “Ah, Berawald, that isnae what troubles me. I have spent my whole life hiding what I am, fighting to conceal all that is different about me. Ye have lived amongst your clan, concerned about what ye are only when ye left it, something ye did as rarely as possible. Hiding what I am, feeling the scorn and fear of others and the threat of that, has taught me that being different isnae safe. Being different cost the lives of both of my parents. Now ye tell me that I may be e’en more different from those I lived amongst than I thought I was. It shall take me some time to accept that without fear and I am so verra tired of being afraid.”

  “Ye can be safe at Cambrun. Ye can live amongst those who are like ye and David and ne’er have to hide again.”

  Before she could ask him what he meant, he kissed her. Evanna felt the hint of desperation in his kiss and immediately wanted to soothe him. When he began to make love to her again, she welcomed his every touch, his every kiss. The way he made her burn should have frightened her, but she reveled in it. Confusion dimmed her passion for one moment when he urged her over onto her hands and knees. Then he entered her with one swift thrust and she cried out each time he thrust again. This time when she felt his teeth against her neck she did not even tense. The pleasure and pain of his bite sent her tumbling headlong into desire’s sweet abyss. A small part of her mind heard Berawald growl out her name as he joined her in that delirious fall, and knowing he was with her only sharpened her pleasure.

  “I think we need some sleep,” Berawald murmured as, once he had freshened them both with a cool damp cloth, he rejoined her in his bed.

  She was in his bed, he thought as he pulled her into his arms, and he grinned with a satisfied pleasure that came straight from his heart. This was where she belonged. The heady taste of her blood still lingered on his tongue, and even though he had taken only a small sip or two, the way it filled his body with need told him that she was his mate. Berawald did not know that much about women, but he felt certain that getting her into his bed did not ensure that she would stay with him.

  He bit back the urge to demand that she swear herself to him. It was not a good time for that. She was still reeling slightly from all he had told her even though she had accepted him for what he was. Once her enemies were vanquished, he would tell her that he wanted her to stay with him as his wife, as his mate, and, if God blessed them, as the mother of his children. He would take the time until then to woo her and to try to gain a place in her heart as he had gained the precious gift of her desire.

  “Berawald, ye can see the spirits, too, cannae ye?” Evanna asked, needing to know despite the sleep weighting her body and her eyelids.

  For a moment Berawald was reluctant to answer that question, not wishing to burden her with yet another thing that was strange about him. Then he realized that she had said too. She was, in a word, confirming all he had suspected. This time it was Evanna who sought assurance that he could accept a gift of hers.

  “Aye. I have been able to see them since I began the change from boy to mon,” he replied. “I see them and I hear them in my head. I can e’en see when the spirit finally leaves. For the ones who are good, they simply walk away and disappear into a light that begins to shine as they walk toward it. Some wait a long time before they do that.”

  “Why do ye think they linger here?”

  “I am nay sure. My belief is that some linger to watch o’er a loved one, such as a child, or there is something left undone, some crime done to them that they need to have resolved. The spirit that insisted we go to David is of a woman who was murdered by her lover, tossed into the burn when it was running high and fast. Tossed in with the child she had borne him.”

  “How sad. Is the child’s spirit still here?”

  “Nay, I suspicion he was quick to go to that light. I believe she stays because she waits for her lover to pay for what he did to her and her child. I fear I may never be able to help her and hope that someday she will simply leave to be with her child.”

  “Do the bad ones linger? The spirits of the evil?”

  “I have seen none, but I dinnae go verra far from here, do I? The few I have kenned and seen die were claimed by hell verra quickly. Something dark rises up from the ground the moment death is certain and grabs hold of the spirit. I have heard it scream as the darkness closes round it and takes it down. To hell, I suppose.”

  Evanna shivered. “I pray my sight and David’s are never that precise. We dinnae hear voices in our heads all the time, either. ’Tis rare that we hear them at all.”

  “That is because there is something about ye and David that strengthens the wall between the living and the dead.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.” He ran his fingers through her thick, soft hair and knew she would soon be asleep. He could hear it in her voice. “Since ye have joined me here I have kenned a peace, a quiet, that I havenae kenned since I became a mon.”

  “I am glad. Ye need your rest.”

  Berawald felt her grow heavier against him and knew she had finally fallen asleep. Her voice had been tantalizingly husky, but there had also been the hint of a slur to her words. She badly needed to rest. He knew he should sleep but his heart was too full of hope and pleasure. His mind was also too full of plans to make her love him, to make her and David his family.

  He thought about his laird, about Jankyn, and about the o
thers who had found their mates. Berawald had not fully understood the bonds they appeared to share, but he had felt the pinch of envy at times. He had envied them the pleasure of having a woman in their bed every night, of having one that was more than just a bedmate to ease an itch, and he had certainly envied them for the children they had. Now he understood what else they had found. He understood the depths of the bonds he had seen, how they twined around a man’s heart, mind, and soul. He felt all of that with Evanna and desperately wanted her to feel the same.

  How to accomplish that was the question. Berawald’s experience with women was not much to brag about. He was often so lost in the world of the dead, his mind so clouded by the voices he heard day and night, that he did not even think about women and the bedding of them. Although he knew that the way Evanna’s presence silenced the noise and cleared his mind was not all that bound him to her, he did not want to lose that. He did not want to lose her at all.

  Closing his eyes and reaching out for sleep, Berawald prayed he could learn the trick of wooing a woman’s heart. He needed Evanna as tightly bound to him as he was to her. Precious as her passion was to him, he craved her love. If it became necessary, he would swallow his pride and seek advice from Jankyn about how to woo a woman. His pride would be a small price to pay if it meant he could keep Evanna at his side.

  Eight

  The men are coming.

  Berawald was jolted awake by that sharp voice, his heart pounding with alarm. He looked around but saw no one except the spirit who had urged them to go after David, and he realized the voice had been in his head. It took him a moment to clear the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. She had forced herself into his head, urgency cracking the wall that now sheltered his mind from the constant chatter of the dead, and he was not sure he liked that.

  “Where are they?” he asked, hoping she would give him a reasonable, clear answer, something spirits were not usually very good at.

  They are near the outside opening. They will find it soon. Save the lad.

  “How many of them are there?”

  More than ye can fight. Save the lad, she urged again before she faded away.

  As he leapt from the bed and began to dress, Berawald suddenly realized what was holding the spirit of the woman here, or at least part of the reason she lingered. She had been unable to save the life of her own child. Guilt was but one of the tethers holding her in the land of the living. He hoped that by helping to save David’s life she would finally find some peace, but he began to doubt it. She had already saved David’s life once and yet she remained, haunting him.

  Grabbing up Evanna’s clothes, he shook her awake. “Get dressed. Our enemies are close to finding this place.”

  “Ye have seen them?” she asked as she took her clothes from his hands and hurried to dress herself.

  “Nay, our ghostie told me. She watches over the lad.” After buckling on his sword, he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a brief, fierce kiss. “Gather a few of your things and wait for me at that passage I showed ye. I will get David.”

  Evanna nodded, forcing herself to obey as he ran from the room. It was hard to leave David’s safety in someone else’s hands, even Berawald’s. Every part of her cried out to run to her brother and get him to safety herself, but she resisted that call. She would only get in the way, and, even more dangerous, slow them down in their attempt to escape. Having become painfully knowledgeable about the need for a swift escape, she knew Berawald’s orders were the ones she had to follow. It did not stop her from praying for success with every step she took, however. She also promised herself that if she heard even the faintest sound of trouble before David and Berawald joined her, she would go to help them. When Berawald had first shown her the way out, he had told her that no matter what else was happening she was to get herself to safety and never look back. That was an order she knew she could never obey.

  Berawald was not surprised to find the ghost at David’s bedside. She looked both frightened and frustrated. He suspected she was cursing her inability to just pick up the boy and run. He did not care to think of the many ways she might haunt him if he did not get David away from the men about to invade his home.

  “David, wake up,” he said, gently shaking the boy. “We must leave now.”

  The speed with which the boy woke, fear darkening his eyes, pinched at Berawald’s heart. He knew life was hard for nearly everyone, that one could not always keep the innocent safe from death, pain, or hunger, but he wished he could banish the fear in David’s eyes. He would, however, make the ones who put it there pay dearly.

  “Have the bad men found us?” David asked as he climbed out of bed and began to dress.

  “Aye, I fear they have,” Berawald replied as he shoved a few of David’s things into his small bag. “I had thought that I had hidden the other bo—men—weel, but something has brought their companions here.”

  “Mayhap they came looking for the other men.”

  “Verra likely. Ready, lad? We have to move quickly and quietly.”

  “I can be quick and verra quiet.”

  Berawald suspected he could be and that thought made him sad. As he led David out of the small bedchamber he had given him, he pretended not to see the boy wave farewell to the ghost. At some time David would have to learn the truth about him and the MacNachtons. Berawald could only pray that the boy took the news as well as his sister had.

  “I think we need to move faster,” whispered David. “I can hear the men in the passage coming this way.”

  Sharp hearing, Berawald mused. Yet another MacNachton trait. “They willnae find us, lad. Trust me.”

  “Aye, I do.” The moment David saw Evanna he ran up to her. “They have found us again, Evie.”

  “I ken it. Be brave, lad,” Evanna said, quickly hugging her brother and kissing his cheek. “Berawald has a way for us to get out of here unseen. They willnae get us.”

  “Ye and the lad go first,” Berawald said, keeping an eye on the entrance to the tiny room they now stood in. “I will take up the rear. There are no turnoffs so ye dinnae need to fear ye will take a wrong turn or get lost if I fall behind and cannae tell ye where to go. Just move quietly and carefully. There are loose stones upon the path that could trip ye and a few low spots.”

  Taking David by the hand, Evanna moved to the far end of the little room where the bolt-hole was cleverly hidden by the angle of the walls and Berawald’s supplies. “Dinnae fall too far behind,” she said, and then slipped into the passage that would lead them away from their enemies.

  Berawald waited until he was certain the pair were well inside his escape route. He then began to quietly back toward it himself. He was just inching into the opening when he heard the men enter his great hall. Holding himself as still as the stones surrounding him, he fixed all of his attention on their voices and hoped he would hear something useful before he had to flee. Any hint of what the men sought, planned, or knew could prove helpful.

  “Curse it!” bellowed one man. “They arenae here!”

  “But where could they go? This is a cursed cave,” growled another man. “They didnae come by us as we came in.”

  “They cannae do that, can they, Duncan?” asked yet another man, unease creeping into his slightly boyish voice. “They cannae make themselves like the mist or the fog, can they?”

  “Dinnae be any greater fool than ye already are, Will,” said the first man who had spoken, one Berawald assumed was Duncan. “There has to be another way out of here. Start looking.”

  “But where could they go?” asked Will, repeating the question the second man had asked. “He is one of them. Ye saw what he did to our men. Jesu, Duncan, he ripped out poor Robbie’s throat. He must be one of the stronger demons, one of them MacNachtons.”

  “Of course he is, lackwit. I am nay surprised the women wouldnae be as strong as the men. Women are weak by nature. And the wee lad isnae grown yet. I mean to see that he ne’er reaches his manhood. And that lass h
as to pay for cutting me. I dinnae mean to let the bitch die easy once I get my hands on her.”

  It took all of Berawald’s willpower to stop himself from rushing out there to confront Duncan. That man was definitely the leader and the greatest threat, but most of Berawald’s rage was because of what the man had threatened to do to Evanna. When a man said he would not let a woman die easy, there was only one thing he could mean. Duncan meant to debase Evanna, to force himself on her, and for that thought alone he would die.

  “Are ye sure she is even still alive? Ye caught her good with your sword, nearly gutted her.”

  “Nay good enough, for she kept running with the lad, didnae she? Weel, soon she will have too many wounds to heal from, just like her cursed mother had.”

  “There may be others of their ilk on this land.”

  “Fine, then we will be able to cull the herd. Find that cursed bolt-hole! Now!” he yelled at the men Berawald could hear moving around his home.

  Berawald slipped farther into the passage and then hurried after Evanna and David. As best he could judge from all the sounds and voices he had heard, there were at least twelve men tearing apart his home. There would be others standing guard outside, perhaps even a few searching the area all around for signs of a bolt-hole. Far too many men for him to deal with. The wisest thing he could do now was to get Evanna and David to Cambrun. Then his kinsmen could help him rid their lands of this scum.

  “The ghostie is with us,” whispered David.

  Struggling to move as swiftly and silently as she could, Evanna glanced behind her. The ghostly woman stayed close behind David. The spirit was obviously trying to protect this child as she had not been able to protect her own. Touched by that though she was, Evanna would rather have seen a broad-shouldered Berawald with his sword and all those knives she had seen him tuck into his clothes.