Chapter 18

Nyall woke up to see Caroline setting food and hot brews on her dining table, and took a moment to watch her work. The thin shift she wore only came to the middle of her thighs, and the morning sunlight made it appear almost transparent. All light loved her, but the sun brought out the beautiful rose tones of her golden skin, and glinted in the pale streaks of her dark hair, now woven into a long, loose braid. She glanced over at him and smiled, her full lips curving like petals on a flower.

Last night he'd confessed his love to this woman. He'd taken her and held her and slept with her cradled in his arms. Nyall still couldn't quite believe any of it.

"I made us some breakfast." She came over and sat down beside him. "It's just toast and fruit. I haven't mastered cooking over a fireplace yet, so the toast is a little singed."

He caught the long, loose braid in which she'd woven her hair and used it to tug her down for a kiss. "You ever take my breath away, my lady, but in the morning you're glorious."

"Mmmm." She kissed him back. "You'll have to spend the night here more often, then."

They shared the simple meal together as if they'd done so for years, speaking of her plans for the cottage, the work he wished to do on the stronghold's defenses, and their plans for the day. Caroline intended to collect more abalone shells for Lark, who had worked out her scheme to make buttons with one of the clan's wood carvers. She would then make space for and plant a small blackberry bush one of the gardeners had given her.

"I'm turning into my grandmother, but I really love growing my own food," she admitted. "Brochan promised to teach me how to make preserves, too."

As he listened Nyall had to decide whether to continue the search for Shaw, whom he believed did not wish to be found. The laird had advised him that the chieftain would return when he was ready, just as he had before, but Connal didn't know about the bargain they'd struck. He found himself telling Caroline everything, and after she refilled his mug she sat back in her chair pondering what he'd said.

"'Tisnae your fault, you ken," he said, wondering if she was blaming herself for the chieftain's disappearance.

"That guy wouldn't have left if he could have safely stayed here," she pointed out. "Shaw loves this place, and the clan. You've seen how he is with the laird, Fletcher, and everyone else here. He just wants to protect the clan. I think after you showed him your power he might have been scared for you."

"Afraid for me?" He couldn't fathom that. "Why?"

"I didn't fall for his pretty face like all the other girls on the island," Caroline pointed out. "So he leaves right after I decked him, right? Then you nearly fried him with lightning, and he runs off again. The guy avoids anything that threatens him, but not because he's scared. I think he's trying to keep the tats thing from doing something after a dust-up like we both had with him. I know it didn't like me. Maybe it wants to kick your ass now."

"So what he truly fears, 'tis the thing inside him?" When she nodded he sighed. "Fack."

"When he approached me on the beach after he got back he seemed a lot better—calmer," she said. "Getting away from everyone so he can deal with whatever that thing is doing to him is smart, too. It's like maybe the only way he can settle down is by being alone."

Everything she said made sense, yet he couldn't fathom how she knew so much about the chieftain. "How do you see such about Shaw when you've barely spoken?"

"Because I do the same thing he does." She gestured toward the bay. "Why do you think I'm in the water so much? When I'm alone out there, I calm down. The sea doesn't care about my crap. I can think without distractions, and work out my frustrations. Diving every day kept me together after we broke up. So did living here by myself. Nyall, I've been alone since my grandmother died. It's how I need to live."

He'd made her suffer, just as Tiree had Prince Mar. For a moment he wondered if he'd made a terrible mistake in admitting to his love for her.

"Hey." She reached across the table and took hold of his hand. "Don't do that again, okay? You're not like your mother. If you're worried about something happening between us, just talk to me."

"'Tis new for me, depending on another. Yet you ken my thoughts before I even speak them." He laced his fingers through hers. "I shall do better, I vow."

"I know you will. And since you're in a very good mood, I have an idea I want to run past you." She told him about the notion she and Jamaran had to spend the night on an empty island outside the barrier. "It's not just so we can have fun together. Jamaran said there's a place with caves where we can shelter while you practice controlling the power. He said MacLeir was taking the sheep there to market today, so there won't even be animals you could hurt."

His first instinct was to refuse, but he had always kept his troubles to himself. "Wouldnae you rather keep me happy, so I dinnae summon the lightning again?"

"If life here was perfectly peaceful, and no one ever threatened or attacked us, I'd be glad to," she said, nodding. "Only you're being hunted by this enchantress chick and her shape-shifters, and then there are the raiders and slavers and all the bad guys out there who might blunder through the barrier. As weapons go, you know nothing is bigger or scarier than lightning."

"Aye." He still had some reservations about trying to harness the boon, but he knew she was right. "I'll send word to Jamaran, and we'll sail to the island after sunset."

As he loweredhis sails Lugh watched the last of the witches descend the gangway to the sand bar, sloshing through the shallow water as they walked toward the empty island. His mouth hitched as he saw how they hissed and minced, as if a few inches of sea scalded them. Perhaps it did; he knew almost nothing of their kind except that they had poor tempers and seemed woefully ignorant of the other strange creatures who had long abided in the mortal realm.

The vows he'd taken long ago forbid him from using violence against any other being, or he might have summoned a tidal wave to crush and drown them all.

The large heavy one with the sharp tongue came to stand beside him, her beady eyes shifting as she regarded him as she might a wharf rat. "Ken you how to sail this old tub alone?"

She yet remained suspicious of him, but then, she seemed a little wiser than the rest. Sometimes she forgot to guard herself, and showed a few flashes of her own torment over what she had been forced to do. Lugh thought he might have liked her, had she different blood in her veins.

"Aye, only I'd die of thirst before I'd reach home, for you locked away all the water." He wanted to laugh—water would never be his weakness—but she might then decide to remain on board. "Enjoy your frolic, Witch. I shallnae sail off and leave you stranded."

Once she descended and joined the one-eyed witch who had waited for her, Lugh pulled up the gangway. In another hour the full moon would rise, calling to all the shape-shifters to change into their true forms. He walked over to the hold hatch, unwilling to watch the witches become that which tainted their blood. He didn't fear the sight of the half-Therion females, but had spent his long life avoiding all the Fae and their half-mortal get. Being trapped on his own boat surrounded by them had been purely torturous; he longed to return to his stone cottage and sleep in his own bed.

I should jump over the side and swim home.

In Haven, a tiny cove nestled away on an island few visited, he abided happily with his crew and their families, with whom he fished and helped build skiffs to sell in the coastal villages. All those in Haven belonged to the ancient druid tribes who had fled north to escape the Romans, and still practiced the old ways that he had learned to love as a lad. None of them had wanted wealth or power, as the serenity of their simple existence kept all content. When he'd first founded their colony he'd had to pretend to die every few decades, and alter his appearance so that he could pass as his own son. Eventually the eldest men came to him and revealed they knew he was not entirely mortal.

Be at peace, Maister, and ken we and ours shall ever serve as your vassals.

What Speal and her sisters did not understand was the nature of his crew. Thanks to their druid blood, death was never truly the end for them unless they chose that. Their spirits returned to Haven from the Well of Stars again and again through rebirth, which was also likely how the fishermen had discovered Lugh was an immortal being. Although it disgusted him to think of the young men the enchantress would slay, all of them would have the chance to live again if they wished to return.

A sharp rap on the hull stopped him in his tracks, and he looked over to see water flowing up over the railing. Unlike the dark seas around the boat this current glowed with tiny blue-green lights, and seemed as thick as honey.

The current slowly poured across the deck, emptying into the hatch.

"Ah, fack me." He glanced at the sand bar before he hurried over and climbed down the ladder.

Water slowly swirled around the weathered planks of the hold, collecting itself and taking on a brighter glow. It rose from the deck to shape and turn itself into a large mortal with a stout body. Hooked claws sprouted from the ends of his thick fingers, and his ears grew to sharp points. He glared with his large black eyes before he spat on the deck. So it had always been between them since Lugh had turned his back on the halfling and left home to return to the druid tribe that had fostered him and create Haven.

"They're no' my witches," Lugh said, folding his arms. "They captured my boat, and took prisoner my vassals. I bargained thus so they'd spare most of them; the rest shall return reborn. Reckon you 'twould be anything tempt me come into your water, old man?"

MacLeir went over and sat down at the table, still giving him an ugly look as he stretched out his hands palm-up. Since he knew if the old man spoke, the boat would fall to pieces around them, Lugh went over to sit across from him. He waited before taking hold of his hands to make his reluctance clear.

The table and the hold vanished, leaving them facing each other in a dark gray void.

"They're but halflings that serve that mad enchantress," MacLeir bellowed like an angry bull. In this place his voice sounded just as loud and frightening, but could harm nothing in the mortal realm. "They slay helpless mortals so they may steal their bodies and their lives. Why didnae you sink the boat and drown them?"

"Forget you I'm a fisherman, no' a warrior?" He pulled up his sleeve, revealing the stone bracelet he wore that shielded him from other Fae. "I live as a mortal, and I shall do only as a mortal may, just as I vowed to you when I left for good. Besides, 'tis my facking boat. Why should I sink her?"

"I gave Mar my vow I'd protect his sons from their sovereign." MacLeir's face reddened. "Caladh's so close if you spit 'twill land on a MacMar's face. Collect these eejit females and take them away."

Always with the old man it was about what he desired, without an inkling of respect for Lugh's own wonts. He'd always thought McLeir foolish for pledging to abide among and safeguard the clan, for it compelled him to live as they did, a life that ill-suited him. Yet since he had done the same with his magic folk, he could not fault him for it.

"They need the night on the island, and then we shall sail south," he said. "'Tis the best I may offer."

MacLeir looked as if he might wield his power against him for a moment, and then his shoulders sagged. "Why dinnae you ever listen, lad? They're half-Therion, so they cannae ken remorse or decency. Only blood and death shall ever appease them."

"They dinnae ken much of their own nature, and naught of others." He hesitated before he said, "They're a pitiful lot, and I reckon much more despair awaits them. When they ken how they've been deceived, 'twill serve as proper punishment."

MacLeir shook his head. "Never I reckoned fostering you with mortals should make you as mawkish as them. Very well. Keep your word and take them south in the morn. I shall make for Caladh and warn the MacMar."

Lugh released his hands, and suddenly the void melted back into the hold. He stood and bowed to the old man, who came around the table and gave him a rough embrace before he dissolved into a pool of sparkling water. Once it had funneled itself up through the hatch, he followed, and stood at the railing as MacLeir's true form streamed over the side of the boat and splashed into the sea. Blue-green lights twinkled for a moment as the current raced north, and then faded from sight.

Had he still cared about the old man, his abrupt departure without a word of kindness might have wounded him. Instead Lugh experienced a welcome sense of relief. "Farewell, Sire."

Caroline carriedthe last bundle of provisions to the dock, where Nyall and Jamaran had put everything else in the boat they'd be sailing to the island. The hull of the long, narrow skiff had been covered with dull white and gray tanned hides that matched the wide sail on its single mast. The main and quarter decks appeared to be made of light blue wood at first glance, but as she got closer she realized it had been painted with something to make it appear the same color as the sea water. Although the boat resembled a flimsy, oversize canoe, when the commander helped her step down it barely moved in the water.

"This is one of the Selseus's ghost boats, right?" she asked, glancing over the side to see unfamiliar markings that appeared embossed in the material of the hull. "I've never seen anything like this. At night it must be practically invisible on the water."

"'Tis our custom sail beyond the barrier after dark," Jamaran said as he raised the long triangular sails, while Nyall retreated to the back of the boat. "None of the fishers from the mainland venture as far north as Caladh, yet we sometimes encounter raiders and slave transports."

Caroline went back to the stern, where her other lover stood beside the long tiller attached to the rudder. Although everything on the boat seemed primitive, the simple, sleek design and lightweight materials used to build it probably allowed the craft to fly over the water.

"If this goes as fast as I think it will, I want one," she told him as she leaned over to look at the rudder. "Have you ever sailed one of these before now?"

"Aye." He put his arm around her waist. "After Tiree died I oft escaped the stronghold, and sometimes went with Merrick and his men on patrols." His gazed shifted to Jamaran. "I sailed with them the day the king went in search of our friend."

"Were you part of the rescue team?" When he nodded she grimaced. "That must have been terrible."

"Aye, for Jamaran had already drowned," Nyall told her. "I reckoned him dead, only Merrick sensed a spark of life still within him. I held him in the water to keep his body from sinking while the king transformed him."

Caroline flashed back to what Merrick had told her when they'd first met. I ken, for I hear every thought in his head. "Could that have affected both of you?"

He stiffened. "I yet lived, and I'm half-Fae. The Selseus may change only mortals."

"It's just that you did change after that. Merrick and Jamaran can read each other's thoughts, too, remember? So there's that, and a few other things." She didn't want to upset him again, so she shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I guess."

"What more?" he said, frowning.

"Well, you love the water as much as Jamaran does, and you swim just as fast. The only thing you're missing are the gills. I don't know how the process works, but after Merrick saved him you instantly became best friends. In a lot of ways you're like two halves of the same person." Caroline watched his expression. "Maybe your Fae blood is what kept you breathing air and living on land, but otherwise..."

"Merrick's power changed us both." Nyall looked over at Jamaran, who was watching them. Instead of scowling, however, his mouth curved into a smile. "'Twould explain much."

"If you were a guy and girl, you probably would have fallen for each other." She leaned against him. "Instead you became closer than brothers, and then I show up. You both go crazy for me, but you're not jealous of each other at all, and I want you both. We had some rough patches, but it's worked out beautifully for all three of us, right?"

"Indeed." He kissed her temple.

Sailing to the empty island took a few hours, and by the time they reached the rocky north shore of the place night had fallen. The full moon bathed everything with a misty white light, and even seemed to make the stars twinkle a little brighter. From what she saw Caroline guessed the island was close to three or four miles long. A long line of hills rolling along the center blocked the view of the other side, but Nyall had told her it was mostly made of tide-flooded shoals and sandbars.

Nyall lit a torch before he helped Jamaran drag the boat through the shallows to a spot sheltered by old pine trees, where they tied the mooring ropes. Caroline collected their provisions and the tartans and linens she'd brought so they could sleep comfortably outside. Other than the sound of the waves and the brisk sea breeze rustling through the tall grasses beyond the beach, there wasn't a sound, which seemed a little eerie.

"'Tis too windy here for a fire," Jamaran told her as he helped her off the boat and took the heavy bag of water and food she carried. "We shall build one near the caves."

She walked up to Nyall, taking hold of his hand. "Let's go."

Caroline was glad she could keep her lover from sinking into the ground, but once they made their way over the dunes the sand turned into marsh. Walls of tall grasses and shrubs spread in all directions, and had grown so thick they looked almost impassable. Here and there flat-topped, moss-covered boulders, some larger than their boat, lay like giant skipping stones left behind by some enormous kid. That was when Nyall drew his sword and handed it along with the torch to Jamaran, who walked ahead of them to cut a path through the dense growth. As he did, thuds and rustling betrayed the presence of small animals around them as they scattered.

"Am I going to step on a rat nest?" Caroline asked, only half-joking.

"They'd flee before you could," Nyall told her. "'Tis naught on the island that may harm you but red deer, and the herds remain in the hills so the does may bear their young."

Jamaran suddenly stopped, and raised his hand to make a strange cutting gesture. Nyall pressed a finger to her lips and drew her closer to his side as he walked up to join the commander, who then stuck his burning torch into the muddy ground, extinguishing the flames. He then looked hard at his friend.

"We're no' alone here," Nyall leaned over to murmur against her ear.

She drew her dagger and nodded, shifting in back of Jamaran as Nyall moved behind her, keeping his hand in hers. In that single file they waded through the grasses, trying not to make any sound. The commander then turned and grabbed them both, hauling them behind a large rock and tugging them down to take cover.

The sound of sharp voices drifted through the grass to them, although Caroline couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but it sounded strange—almost like they were bickering and shrieking at the same time. She inched toward the side of the rock to take a peek around it, but couldn't see anything but grass at first. Then she smelled smoke, and saw a flicker of flame from a few hundred yards away.

One torch appeared, and another, and then three more—and they were coming closer to where they were hiding.

The voices got louder as well. They sounded as if they came from a large group of women who seemed to be speaking a few words before they shrieked and hissed like angry animals. Nyall tugged her against him and pressed her between his chest and the rock, covering her mouth with his hand this time as if he didn't trust her to stay quiet. Caroline thought about biting him, and then saw a woman who was pulling off her clothes and flinging them into the grass walk by the boulder.

"Stay back from the water," a deep voice said, shrieking the last word.

The nearly-naked woman turned, and the moonlight showed the empty socket where one of her eyes had been gouged out. She parted her lips as two huge white fangs curved down from her upper jaw. "Stay back from meeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

Caroline forgot to breathe as the woman dropped down on all fours, her body writhing as her limbs bulged and twisted, and dark fur shout out of her skin. More women rushed past the rock, dragging the woman who now looked like an enormous black jaguar down toward the dunes. Others attacked them from behind, and then they all began tearing at their clothes and screeching like angry cats, colliding and swiping at each other with hands that swelled into gigantic paws with long, curved black talons.

She pressed her hand over her mouth this time to keep from screaming as all of the women changed into monstrous felines. Some raced off, but others turned on each other, uttering yowls that tore through the air as they swiped at and bit each other. The sound of their squalling and fighting made her clap her hands over her ears. Blood flew like rain, spattering the boulder and all three of them, and she saw Nyall's grip on his blade tighten.

Stop.

The wind died away, and the screeching shape shifters went still and silent, frozen in mid-change. As Caroline rose to her feet she could see dozens of them surrounding the boulder, making bile rise in her throat. In another moment they would have found her and her guys.

"Come on," she said to the men. "We've got maybe four minutes to get the hell out of here."

"Their boat, 'twill lay anchored on the other side," Jamaran said.

Nyall put his hands on her shoulders. "We cannae risk returning to Caladh with you, my lady. We'd lead them straight to the clan and the Selseus. Jamaran and I shall distract them while you go."

"What are you talking about? I'm not leaving you here with those things," Caroline told him, and looked at the commander. "You can't stay and fight a hundred of them."

"We shallnae fight." Jamaran nodded toward the hills. "We shall hide in the caves."

"Right. You suck at lying." She swiped at her eyes. "Please don't do this. Don't make me leave you here to die."

Nyall looked into her eyes as he reached out to his friend, who came and hugged them both. They held her tightly, like two tired swimmers about to go under for the last time, and then they let go and took off running in the direction of the hills.

Caroline nearly went after them before she realized she only had a minute left to reach the boat. They would make it to the caves, she promised herself, because they wanted to live. They wanted to live and come back to her. She stumbled over the dunes just as time snapped back into motion. Something like a vertical oil slick welled up in front of her. When she reeled back it turned into a man. He looked past her in the direction of the screeching felines.

"I'll draw away shifters, lass," Shaw told her, his eyes going solid black. "Ready the boat, and take our lads with you. Hurry."

Caroline nodded, unable to stop herself from cringing as the chieftain turned back into the black thing and disappeared into the grass. She wanted to go after him and help, but there was no way she could fight dozens of Cait Sith in their beastly forms; they'd turn on her and tear her to pieces. Turning away and rushing down to the shore, she waded her way over to the boat and climbed in before she stood at the bow and tried to see what was happening.

Something grabbed her ankle, and as she screamed a webbed hand jerked her leg and dragged her over the side into the water.