She really didn’t like the idea of waiting around until the beast felt like attacking. But it seemed she had no choice.
Kincaid was extremely concerned and had offered to stay. She’d reassured him that she still had a few days, at least — which didn’t make him feel any better. But she needed to get at least a few hours’ sleep before the best sword in this part of the world arrived. Presumably carried by someone who knew how to use it.
She went up to the apartment to check on Gavin first, but couldn’t find the bird anywhere. He must have gone to hunt. Hopefully. She was tempted to just fall into bed right then, but knew she should run a final check of the shop first. After all, Brigid had been the last one to leave.
If she found a dead goshawk down there, she’d strangle the witch, Kincaid’s sister or not.
When she reached the main floor, everything looked in order. She was heading to make sure the front door was locked when a plaintive voice behind her said, “The witch isn’t here, is she?”
Rain looked back and smiled at Isobel. “No,” she said. “It’s much too late for her.”
“It is late.” The ghost stared out the nearby window. “I lose track of time, sometimes.”
“Is that what happened this morning? I missed you.”
“Really? You missed me?” Isobel practically beamed. “I would have missed you, too, if I knew how much time I’d been gone. All day, it looks like.”
“Well, thank you,” Rain said. “Where do you go when you’re … gone, anyway?”
The girl frowned a bit. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “It’s like sleeping, almost. I dream of things that happened and haven’t happened. Or might not happen.”
“I don’t get it.”
Isobel flashed a sheepish smile. “Neither do I.”
Just then, someone knocked at the shop door.
“Is that the witch?” Isobel said, looking panic-stricken.
“No, it wouldn’t be her at this time of night.” She approached the door cautiously, thinking it was probably Kincaid. He’d forgotten something, or decided he’d try talking her into letting him stay after all.
But when she opened the door, there was no one there.
“Hello?” she called. Not too loudly, in case it was someone unfriendly. She was aware of Isobel just behind her, looking curiously over her shoulder. “Is someone here?”
“Hello, aillidh.”
She recognized the voice before she saw him leaning against the light pole situated on the path. Kieran, which wasn’t actually his name. The ghost on the moors who wasn’t really a ghost. He was a bit more transparent than the last time she’d seen him, still nearly naked and wearing a wicked grin.
The instant he spoke, Isobel screamed and vanished.
“Um.” She still had no idea what to make of Kieran. Everything in her was conflicted — she was drawn to him and terrified of him at the same time. Aside from not knowing who he really was, she didn’t even know what he was. And it worried her that he’d apparently sought her out this time instead of just happening to run into her.
“What are you doing here?” she finally said. “Shouldn’t you be out haunting the moors?”
“I’m no ghost. Remember?” He straightened slowly but made no move to approach.
“Right.” She definitely couldn’t forget the way he’d touched her last time. “But you’re not exactly real, are you? I mean, I can see through you.”
His grin made her shiver. “Oh, I’m very real,” he said. “I’m just not completely here, at the moment.”
“So where’s the rest of you?”
“Somewhere unpleasant.”
The bitterness in his voice was painful to hear. “I’m sorry, then,” she said. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
“Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
She was instantly suspicious. “Why don’t you come closer?”
“I’ll stay here, thanks all the same.”
“Why?” she said. “Are you worried about Isobel? She’s gone, and she wouldn’t hurt you anyway.”
“Do you always ask so many questions?” Kieran raised a dark eyebrow, his green eyes glinting. “You’ve powerful protections laid on that place,” he said. “Any closer, and it … hurts me.”
She frowned. If there were protections on the apothecary, she hadn’t put them there. So it must’ve been Glynis. But what exactly was he, that Glynis would’ve felt the need to ward the shop from?
Suddenly she found herself stepping out the door, moving toward him without thought. And it made her angry. She stopped deliberately and said, “Are you making me come to you?”
“Not at all, aillidh.”
“Rain,” she said. “My name is Rain.”
“Is it, now?” He took a small step forward, then another, wincing each time. “Well, Rain, that’s a powerful curse you’ve got on you,” he said. “What do you plan to do about it?”
Her mouth fell open. “How…”
“I can feel it. There’s something dark and deadly after you.”
“Yes.” Her hand went to her arm, where the marks had started to tingle and itch again. “I don’t suppose you have any idea how I could get rid of it.”
He gave a faint shrug. “Find the one who’s cursed you. Turn it back on them.”
“It was a banshee, and I killed it.”
“The one who controlled the banshee, then.”
“Yes, we’re working on that,” she said with a sigh. “Anything else? It’s a black dog, if that helps.”
“A black dog,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Is it Fae?”
Once again he’d stunned the breath from her. Not even her father dared say that word — it was always faeries, or the Folk. Never the true name. “What are you?” she said. “You were going to tell me last time.”
“Aye, I was. But—” He broke off and glanced over his shoulder, and a fierce expression formed on his face. “Blasted things,” he snarled. “I must go.”
And he vanished.
Rain stared at the spot where he’d been, feeling more conflicted than ever. He’d answered nothing, and what he had told her only generated more questions. So far he didn’t seem dangerous. But he definitely had some kind of power, and she had no idea how he might use it.
That almost made Kieran more terrifying than the black dog … because at least she knew what the beast wanted.
Its only desire was her death.
Chapter 38
The Apothecary – Dawn
Though she was upright, Rain’s eyes were still practically glued shut with sleep when the knock on the door came. She’d been waiting in the shop for the trainer’s arrival, her own sword at her side, nursing a cup of coffee and trying not to think about penetrating green eyes or deadly black dogs. Now, as she made her way to the door, she only hoped to stay awake through the lesson.
She opened it and blinked a few times. The lady standing outside had to be seventy years old, at least. Standing five foot and a prayer, with a long snow-white braid coiled at the back of her head, she wore a traditional green belted druid’s robe and what looked like sneakers on her feet. This was her trainer?
Rain soon realized the lady wasn’t carrying a sword. That made a little more sense, but it still didn’t explain what she was doing here. “Can I help you?” she said.
“Rhiannon, ain’t ye?” the lady said. “I thought I was here to help you. Didn’t Ewan tell ye I was comin’ this morning?”
“Um. He said a sword trainer…”
“Aye, that’d be me.” She smiled and extended a hand. “Iona Fearghus is my name.”
Rain gave an uncertain smile, took the hand — and felt a quick, strong tug. An instant later she was on the ground, flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her.
“And there’s lesson number one,” Iona said. “Appearances can be deceiving. Or maybe it’s never underestimate an opponent. One of those, anyway.”
“Ow,” she managed. “We
ll, thanks for the lesson, I guess.”
“Yer father said ye’d have a smart mouth. But don’t worry, I like that about ye.” Iona loomed over her, grinning. “You and I’ll get along like house on fire,” she said. “All right, now, get up. We’ve plenty of work to do.”
Rain got to her feet, trying not to groan. Okay, so maybe Iona wasn’t some frail little old lady. But there was still a problem with her being the trainer. “You don’t have a sword,” she said.
“I don’t?” Looking surprised, Iona glanced down and started patting all around her belt. “Well, it seems yer right. I don’t.” She moved back a few paces into the front yard and held her hands out. “Here’s lesson number two, then,” she said. “Come at me.”
“Er, I don’t want to—”
“Draw yer sword and come at me, girl!”
Frowning, Rain pulled the sword slowly from the scabbard. “You’re not armed. I can’t just attack you.”
“Do ye think that beast yer huntin’s going to bring a sword against ye?” Iona said. “Come at me. Hard as ye can. Try to run me through.”
“All right,” Rain sighed. Hoping the trainer was wearing armor under her robe or something, she pointed the sword and lunged forward.
With a single, fluid motion, Iona twisted out of the way and the sword went straight past her, making Rain stumble with the unchecked force. Then a hand was on the back of her neck.
“Lesson number two. Never attack what’s in front of ye. Always approach from the side.” Iona released her and stepped back, surveying her with a calculating expression. “Not enough time to get those forearms strengthened,” she said. “Pity. But we’ll have to do with basic cuts and lunges, killing strokes. The real work begins after ye’ve slain the beast.”
“Terrific,” Rain muttered. “Can’t wait.”
“Come on, then,” Iona said, walking past her toward the shop.
Rain stared after her a moment. “We can’t train inside.”
“Aye, we can’t. We’re working in the back yard.”
“There’s no room to move back there,” Rain said. “It’s nothing but weeds and muck.”
Iona tossed a smile at her. “And that’s why it’s the perfect place to start. Ye must learn to take out a target, so ye’ll conquer every standing thing in that yard until ye’ve got it right.”
Rain followed her reluctantly. Chopping down weeds with a sword wasn’t going to help her defeat the black dog, and she was beginning to suspect that so-called training with Iona Fearghus would turn out to be a complete waste of her time.
But on the bright side, at least she’d be making progress on the yard.
Chapter 39
The Apothecary – Opening Time
Rain limped back inside after a few hours of whacking down weeds and attacking trees. Muscles she didn’t even know she had were on fire, and her arms and legs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds apiece. Iona had admonished her to keep the sword with her at all times from now on. She’d also threatened to return tonight after the shop closed with more lessons.
So far Rain had learned that keeping the sharp edge pointed in the right direction was a lot harder than it seemed, and Iona Fearghus was basically her father in a smaller, more feminine package. No wonder he’d agreed with Poppy so quickly.
She changed out of her grass-stained clothes and headed downstairs, picking bits of leaves and twigs from her hair as she went. When she reached the main shop floor, she heard a strange sort of whistling laughter. Gavin was perched on top of the cash register, watching her with amusement in his eyes.
She’d never seen a bird snicker before.
“Laugh it up, feather-brain,” she said, a bit relieved in spite of her comment. “Where’ve you been, anyway? I thought Brigid buried you in an unmarked grave or something.”
“Oh, I’ve been hunting and suchlike,” he said. “What happened? Were you attacked by a tree?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what happened.” She sighed and dislodged another leaf.
“Want me to groom you, then?”
“No, thanks.” She punched the open button on the cash register, and Gavin jumped at the vibration of the old machine. She smirked at him. “Serves you right.”
The bird frowned, and then bobbed low suddenly, staring at something on her. “You have a sword,” he said. “I didn’t know druids used swords.”
“We don’t. Mostly. It’s—”
“Hey, did that bird just talk?”
Rain jumped a little at the voice behind her. “Isobel,” she said, moving aside to look at the girl. “Maybe you could try materializing in front of me once in a while.”
“Sorry. It’s just that I thought I heard—”
“Yes, I did talk,” Gavin said. “Hello there.”
“Gavin, remember what we discussed?” Rain said.
The bird gave an awkward little shrug. “Don’t think she’s going to fear me much. She’s a ghost, isn’t she?”
“All right, fine. Maybe the two of you can entertain each other and stay out of the way.” With an exasperated smile, Rain shook her head. “Isobel, this is Gavin,” she said. “Gavin, Isobel.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Isobel said, dropping a little curtsy. “I’ve never seen a talking bird before.”
“And I’ve never seen a ghost.” Gavin bowed in return. Sort of.
“Great, we’ve all met. Now maybe you two should find somewhere else to be, before Brigid gets here and … well, you know.”
Isobel was already gone before she stopped talking. Gavin looked a bit put out, but he took flight and veered into the back room, presumably to go upstairs.
As it turned out, they were just in time, because Brigid walked in seconds later.
“I hope you haven’t brought any more filthy animals in today,” the girl said as she strode toward the back counter. “I won’t tolerate it. And the next time, my brother won’t be here to stop me if you try it.”
Rain rolled her eyes. “Nobody here but us chickens.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” She’d picked up a few odd sayings in the States, some of them she wasn’t even sure what they meant. And speaking of the States, she realized she’d been here for a few weeks and never told her college roommate that she wasn’t coming back as quickly as she’d planned. She should probably get in touch with Steffie at some point.
She was starting to wonder if she’d ever be able to finish her degree. Depending on how long it took to end whatever was happening here, she might not be back in time to start the fall semester.
And what was she supposed to tell them? Sorry, I had to go home and fight a bunch of monsters from a magical realm? That wasn’t likely to help her get readmitted.
“Are you planning to do any work today?”
The sound of Brigid’s voice pulled her attention like nails on a chalkboard. “No, I thought I’d stand here and hold up the cash register,” she said as the other girl settled into her usual seat behind the counter. “You know. Your job.”
“I’m supervising, apprentice,” Brigid said. “Maybe if you’d do things right once in a while, I wouldn’t have to watch you so closely. By the way, we’re almost out of mistletoe and … why are you wearing a sword?”
“Because I don’t have a lick of fashion sense.” She was sorely tempted to mention that being an apprentice wasn’t easy when your mentor never bothered teaching you anything. But she’d thought of another use for Brigid’s swollen ego at the moment. Maybe she could trick some information out of her. “You know, I just noticed there are protections on the shop,” she said.
Brigid sneered. “If you’ve just noticed now, you’re worse than I thought. I knew they were here the moment I walked through the door.”
“Well, you are better than me.” She tried to sound gracious, though the sarcasm fought hard to come through. “What are they for, anyway?”
“They’re pointless. Silly, superstitious, outdated wards.” Brigid snorted and pulled her iPad fr
om her bag. “Supposedly, they keep out the Unseelie.”
“The what?”
“Don’t you know anything?” The redhead rolled her eyes so hard, all the whites showed. “Unseelie are bad faeries, and Seelie are good faeries. As if there’s any such thing as faeries in the first place, good or bad. Honestly, it’s like believing in Santa Claus.”
Rain couldn’t help shivering. If that was true — and lately it seemed that faeries were far more real than Santa Claus — it meant that Kieran was Unseelie.
She had no idea what made a faerie bad. But now that she had a name for what he might be, maybe she could find out.
Chapter 40
Ogham Wood – Night
There was no way Rain was going to make it to the castle tonight.
Just as she’d promised, Iona returned promptly when they closed the apothecary and put her through two more hours of grueling workouts. When the pint-sized drill instructor left, she warned that she’d be back again at dawn. And this time she’d bring a sword.
Rain figured she’d be lucky to survive the next three days. By the time she faced down the black dog, she wouldn’t be able to lift her arms anymore.
She’d showered and gone to bed early, but sleep refused to come. Her mind wouldn’t stop working, turning over everything that’d happened in the past few days — from the talking bird to the encounter in the village, dinner with Duncan and the utter mystery that was Kieran. Not to mention her new … appreciation of Kincaid, which wasn’t helping her focus at all.
Finally, at around ten, she gave up and got out of bed. If she couldn’t sleep, she’d at least do something productive. Like gather some mistletoe to shut Brigid up. She grabbed a large shoulder bag, a small handsaw and a flashlight, strapped her sword on, and headed into the woods.
She might not remember all of her father’s lessons about faeries and bog witches and death omens, but she’d actually retained quite a bit of the things he’d taught her about plants. For instance, she knew that mistletoe grew high in the branches of certain trees, most commonly water oak. Some of the ash trees here also had infestations of mistletoe. There was an ash grove not far beyond the druid encampment, and she headed there on memory alone.
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