Immortal Scotsman

by McQueen, H. M.

  “It’s an accepted practice. Many men have them.”

  Giving up the pretense, Kieran sat back and allowed fatigue to take over his body. He slumped into the chair. “The nightmares are bad sometimes. I can’t sleep, scared that they’ll begin. On the other hand, I don’t want to stay awake lying next to Catarina. I can’t always fight against the need to be with her. Some nights I take her but only as a last resort. Her mewling and hysterics make it hard to…,” he stopped talking and closed his eyes.

  When Malcolm spoke, fondness rang in his deep voice. “For whatever reason, our family has been chosen by the gods for this duty. To become immortal demon slayers. As Da explained it, there is usually one of us called in each generation. It’s a painful transition, I know, both physically and mentally. I don’t know why this time it’s two, both you and Cynden.”

  Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck. “When Cyn went through the change, no serving wench was safe from his bed. When they were too tired or hid from him, other clanswomen were more than eager to share their beds with him. Even then, he was hard to live with, his emotions always so unstable. Of course, I took him on the road with me as often as possible to give the womenfolk a rest. I suspect it can’t be easy to go through this alone for so long, Kit. All these years, you have managed to keep it under control, but I worry.”

  Kieran stood up and met his brother’s gaze. “I will take the leman. Now, I’m going for a swim. The frigid water should help for now.”

  Malcolm nodded in acknowledgement. “It’s for the best, brother.”

  The morning became unseasonably warm. Only a slight breeze rustled through the trees, as Kieran turned his horse toward the stream that ran through the Fraser lands. He replayed Malcolm’s words in his mind. A leman. He was sure Catarina wouldn’t care; she would probably be glad for it. It was he who wasn’t sure he could take a woman other than his wife to bed, not when he felt so strongly for his wife.

  The arrangement of the marriage had not been forced on him. He was the one who had insisted on it, convincing Malcolm of the need for the clans to unite. But his ulterior motive was always Catarina. He’d loved her since he’d first seen her, when both were less than ten and two years of age.

  That she would never feel the same for him was the one thing he hadn’t considered.

  He caught movement in the distance and reined in his horse to allow him a view into a crest of trees. Although he wasn’t formally trained as a Protector, after the change, his senses of sight, hearing, and smell were keener than those of most humans.

  Dismounting, he tethered the horse and moved silently toward the sound of voices. He hoped it was the scoundrels who’d been stealing from their herd. A smile stretched across his face. A brawl would be welcome this morning.

  For reasons he didn’t understand, Kieran paused for a minute, although his instincts howled at him to advance and fight. The solid bark of a large tree gave refuge as he tried to silence the rush of blood that pounded in his ears.

  He jerked around when a familiar voice cried out.

  Catarina.

  With a swift, practiced motion, he pulled his dirk out of his belt and peered around the tree to get a glimpse of how many men he was about to kill. There was only one man in the clearing.

  His friend Gregor.

  Her fingers latched and fisted onto the front of Gregor’s tunic, Catarina wept while he held her against his chest.

  Gregor’s eyes were squeezed shut, deep lines creased through his forehead and the corners of his eyes. Grief etched a path across his face as the man tried to soothe the woman in his arms.

  “I can’t bear to live without you, Gregor. Take me with you, I beg of you,” Catarina yowled, seeming not to care if she was overheard.

  “I wish it were different, my love,” Gregor’s voice sounded gruff and heavy with emotion. “I can’t continue to betray Kieran. He is a good man and my friend. He loves you and treats you well. I ask that you be a good wife to him. When I leave the day after tomorrow, I leave alone.”

  Kieran continued to watch as Gregor tried unsuccessfully to pry Catarina’s hands from his clothing.

  “I love you, not him. I’ve always loved you.” Catarina dissolved into sobs and collapsed onto her knees, still refusing to release him.

  Gregor kneeled before her and replied in soft tones. He caressed her back, attempting to soothe the now whimpering woman.

  Kieran’s legs felt heavy as stones, and he barely made it back to the shelter of the thick tree trunk where he’d left the horse before they gave out and he slumped to the ground.

  She’d never loved him. Air fought its way in and out of his lungs against his will. Death would be welcome compared to the searing pain that ripped through his insides.

  His throat burned with raw anguish that fought to escape, yet he waited until the sound of their horses became faint.

  Only then did he unleash his grief. It ripped out of him in loud roars that echoed throughout the forest.

  The breeze was cool on his wet face as unchecked tears dripped from his chin onto his sporran. He remained in the same spot for a long while, not caring enough to move. The rushing sound of the stream beckoned, and he considered diving into it and drowning himself, but being immortal meant he couldn’t die that way.

  How many years before he’d forget this day? How long before he would be able to think of Catarina without aching?

  Without warning, a soothing sensation began to weave around him. Warm air caressed his face, the consoling touch reminding him that his life would continue. And it would be a long one. A hazy vision of a slight female appeared before him. Fae, of that he had no doubt. Her voice held a musical resonance. “The time has come, Warrior. You must go to find your fate. Find it, and you will also find your true love.”

  “Bah! Love is naught but an illusion,” Kieran yelled at her. “My destiny includes only these things: wars, battles, and death.” He would never allow himself to suffer anything like this again. Never.

  The Fae only smiled and touched his cheek. Sea-green eyes filled with concern scanned his visage. “You are wounded. Heal soon, dear one. Allow love to enter your heart.” She disappeared.

  Never.

  At dawn’s break the next day, Kieran rode away from Fraser Castle, with Malcolm the only one to see him off. His brother seemed relieved that he’d finally decided to fulfill his destiny.

  Although Malcolm had balked at first, Kieran finally convinced the laird to allow him to fake his own death. It was the only way for Catarina to be free to marry Gregor—a fact that Kieran didn’t share with his brother.

  The brothers had been up all night setting the scene to be found when the scouts went out to look for him. They had taken one of Kieran’s horses and left it by the river; a piece of his tartan and a large bottle of whiskey were left on the bank. After cutting himself, Kieran smeared blood on a rock to give the illusion that after drinking too much, he’d fallen off his horse, bumped his head, and been carried away by the currents.

  The time for his destiny to be fulfilled had come.

  Lasitor, his battle horse, whinnied and kicked at the ground, seeming to understand they were heading off for good. Without looking back, Kieran allowed the black beast free rein, and Lasitor bolted as fast as his strong legs could carry them.

  Very soon, Kieran was away from Fraser lands, not to return until after this generation had gone.

  Chapter Ten

  What was that buzzing noise? A huge mosquito? No, it sounded more like a huge bumblebee. Wendy opened one eye and looked toward the sound. A cell phone vibrated so hard that it bounced on the nightstand. She reached for it and held it close to her face. The display read “Cyn.” She turned it off and nestled closer to the warm body behind her.

  A warm body. Wendy screamed.

  “What the hell?” Kieran bolted up from the bed, his eyes wide and nostrils flared. He blinked and scanned the room and then he stared at her before focusing on the cell phone in her hand. �
��Why in the bloody hell did you scream?”

  “You scared me! I forgot I was in your room. I thought you were a demon or something.” Wendy took a breath and held the cell phone to him. “Your phone buzzed.”

  Kieran didn’t reach for the phone. His eyes locked to where her pajama top gaped open to reveal the tops of her breasts. Alarmed, she yanked it closed with her free hand and huffed at him.

  He stomped to the bathroom.

  Not sure what to do, Wendy pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She rested her chin on her knees, the cell still in her hand.

  “Well, this wasn’t exactly how I imagined my first morning would be after spending the night with Kieran,” she grumbled.

  Hearing the water from the shower start, Wendy decided it was a perfect time to make a getaway. The man sure takes a lot of showers.

  She wondered whether her room was safe. Sunlight streamed in from the window. Surely, the demon in her room was gone by now, she thought, seeing as they didn’t seem to go out much during the daytime.

  The cell phone buzzed again, and she yelped, dropping it onto the bed. Stifling a giggle at her reaction, she looked at it, curious to see who was calling. The display read “Cyn” again. She looked at the closed bathroom door, the water in the shower was still going. She decided to answer and let Cyn know Kieran was busy.

  “Hello, Cyn,” she said brightly.

  “Hello? Wendy?” Cyn’s voice came across as soon as she answered.

  “Yes, hi. I, um, I am in Kieran’s room because I freaked out last night, and well, he’s in the shower.” Wendy waited for Cyn to begin to ask her questions.

  He didn’t. “Please, tell my brother that Roderick and I will be there in an hour.” He hung up without another word.

  “Rude thing. It must run in the family,” Wendy said, putting the phone back on the nightstand. She pulled a piece of paper out of the printer on the desk and wrote Kieran the message.

  No time like the present to face her demons, literally. With squared shoulders, she limped out of the room to prepare for another day of captivity.

  Exactly an hour later, Wendy heard the rumbling of engines coming from the front of the house—Roderick and Cyn arriving on their motorcycles. She pushed away from the kitchen table and hobbled to the counter to put out more bagels, toast, butter, and cream cheese. She had convinced Hector to allow her to serve breakfast, not because she felt a sudden urge to do the domestic thing but because she wanted to hear what the Protectors’ plans were concerning her.

  Fallon entered the kitchen first. She held out a cup and saucer and pointed to a teakettle on the counter. “The Earl Grey is hot and ready for you.”

  “Thank you, Wendy.” He poured the tea and stirred milk into it. “I must apologize for my behavior last night.” Fallon looked appropriately chagrined; his eyes slow to meet hers. “I was out of line.”

  “Yes, you were, you scared me,” Wendy replied with a scowl. “But I accept your apology, especially since you’re being nice enough to let me stay here.”

  Eyebrows drawn together, he took note of the bagels and other items on the counter and gave her a puzzled look. “Where is Hector?”

  “He’s gone to the farmer’s market. Said something about a need to support the local community.”

  “I see,” Fallon replied, not seeming to ‘see’ at all. He sat at the table and buttered a piece of toast, looking up expectantly when Cyn entered.

  Cyn smiled at Wendy good-naturedly. “Good morning, Wendy. How’s the ankle?” She smiled back and gave him a thumbs up. “Oh, good, I’m starved,” Cyn said, spotting the food. He poured himself some coffee and grabbed a couple of bagels.

  The space seemed to shrink upon Roderick’s entrance. The massive Spartan towered over the other Protectors, yet he moved silently and with the grace of a large cat. His striking silver hair was tied back with a leather strap. His almost white eyes, which reminded her of a Siberian husky’s, scanned the room before he nodded to her in greeting. In addition to being a demon slayer, he was a doctor who’d been practicing medicine until he’d been recently reactivated by Julian to join the Protectors. Without speaking, Roderick reached for a bagel and began to spread cream cheese on it.

  Kieran walked into the room, not looking at the others. He’d obviously met them at the front door. Without a word, he went straight to the coffee pot and filled a tall cup.

  After Roderick and Cyn joined Fallon at the table, the three Protectors began talking about a broad spectrum of topics regarding their work and families, not seeming to care whether Kieran joined in or not. He remained by the counter and listened.

  A few minutes later, Cyn ate the last bit of his bagel and glanced at Kieran. “Is your personality here yet, Kit?” Kieran glared back at him without responding. “Okay, I guess not yet.” Cyn’s attention went back to Fallon. “What time is Julian calling?”

  “We will call him in a few minutes,” Fallon replied. “I’m hopeful that he will decide to put our quarantine to an end.”

  The others mumbled in agreement.

  A few minutes later, the men made their way to Fallon’s library, and Wendy wondered if Kieran would join them. He remained by the counter, drinking his third cup of coffee, and stared straight out the window.

  As Wendy finished putting the leftovers away in the refrigerator, she jumped when she felt Kieran’s warm breath on the back of her neck, his body heat radiating into hers. “No doubt they will want to speak with you, so stay near,” he told her and walked out.

  Wendy blew a stray lock of hair from her eyes. She hadn’t heard anything of pertinence so far. They talked about a new communication device they were testing and other things that didn’t have anything to do with her demon attack. Well, she was just going to have to ask questions when she joined them.

  Julian briefed them over the speaker-phone on Fallon’s desk while the Protectors listened.

  Kieran didn’t know what would happen with regard to Wendy, and he didn’t want to care. The vision of her in his bed earlier that morning, her top gaping open just enough to give him a glimpse of her breasts, made him clench his jaw to keep from closing his eyes.

  He needed to get away from her and soon; she affected him too much. He needed to kick someone’s ass. Or maybe get his own kicked.

  Hector walked into the library. A man came into view behind him.

  Jumping to their feet, the Protectors took a stance of defense. Kieran’s and three other sets of eyes instantly measured the man. Recognition allowed them to relax one by one.

  The newcomer was a Protector.

  Julian’s Italian-accented voice came through the telephone speaker on the center of the desk. “From the sudden silence, I presume Logan has arrived. Logan West will be working in Atlanta now. I will let him explain his experience with Warrior demons to you.”

  West sauntered into the room, looking more like he belonged in an old western saloon than in Fallon’s fancy Tudor-inspired library. The long duster he wore over his jeans, coupled with a hat he could have snatched off of John Wayne’s head, left no doubt as to where he’d originated from. Fallon’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows hitched when Logan pulled a chair out and turned it around to straddle it. Kieran liked the man already.

  “Welcome to Atlanta, cowboy,” Kieran said. West nodded at him and proceeded to tell them how much and why he hated Warrior demons.

  A tale of death and battles in West Texas between Protectors and Warrior demons that decided to invade the then small town of Abilene enthralled them. In 1910, Warrior demons killed all but two of the Texas Protectors before finally being driven out by reinforcements that arrived almost too late.

  “I hold no ill will toward Julian. In those days, communication was not as fast as it is now,” Logan told them. “As soon as Julian received our telegram, ten Protectors arrived. We were able to kill most of the Warrior demons, but a few escaped.” West reached for the cup of black coffee Hector had placed in front of him.
“I know I’m a young Protector, as compared to y’all, but you can be assured that I have a vendetta with those bastards that will make up for it. Damn things are hard to kill, I can tell you that much.”

  Julian took up at Logan’s silence. “Since your quarantine began, there have been several attacks on humans in Atlanta. A few have resulted in death. It could have been any demon, but I doubt it. The Warrior demons are trying to draw you out. We must fight back and protect the people. I’m lifting the quarantine, effective tomorrow at dusk. I suggest you stay up all night tonight and sleep tomorrow.” Julian continued giving them additional instructions.

  When he finished speaking, Fallon jumped in. “What about the woman?”

  “Were you able to read her mind?” Julian asked.

  “Somewhat.” Fallon hesitated, meeting Kieran’s eyes. “She blocked me, with…with Christmas songs. She has a unique ability. I am not sure what to make of it.”

  Roderick and Cyn looked as if they were about to burst out laughing. Kieran glared at Fallon, and West looked into his coffee.

  Julian was not amused. “If she is aware of the existence of demons and also now knows about us, I suggest someone clear her mind, or I will.”

  Inexplicably, Kieran’s gut clenched. He must have made a sound because everyone turned to him. He wouldn’t do it. “What? I’m not doing it.”

  “I already tried,” Fallon interceded with the revelation. “When I said she is strong minded, I wasn’t kidding.” He turned to Cyn. “What do you know about her? Maybe Emma has some insight.”

  “Last night, Emma confessed that Wendy has known about demons and Protectors for a couple of years now. That’s probably why you can’t erase her memory of it. She was attacked by a demon two years ago, and one of us saved her. Wendy told Emma that the Protector, who was either Kieran or me, tried to wipe her memory. The Protector, whom I’m guessing was Kit since I don’t recall her, left thinking she wouldn’t recollect what happened.”