"It's nice to have someone to talk to." Helena shrugged. "He's good to talk to. When he's not grumpy at me for going out across the moors in the middle of the night, anyway," she added with a grin.
They finished dinner and she headed up to bed soon after, hoping she was tired enough to get straight to sleep without lying in bed for hours thinking about the monster. Unfortunately, even as she was lying down she could tell she was too wired to sleep. She gazed out the window at the stars as she lay there, wondering about the Black Annis. Was she out there right now, moving across the moors on her spindly legs? Or was she climbing the castle wall right now, peering in through the window at the sleeping children of the Keep?
Maybe it was these thoughts that tainted her dreams… because when she finally did drift off to sleep, it was straight into a world of fog and cave walls. It felt like she was wandering for hours on end, calling name after name, every name she'd learned… the sensation of loss and grief was so overwhelming that she couldn't believe she was still alive, with the pain in her chest… she was so lost in the sandstone caves, so alone…. she reached a wall and reached out blindly with one hand to touch it, and to her shock felt her nails scrape effortlessly against the rocky wall, carving a deep gouge into the surface. It was as though the rock was made of nothing but soft sand, packed closely but freely giving way beneath the scratching of her fingernails… there was something satisfying about the sensation, and before she knew it she was hollowing out a human-shaped cavity in the wall. She stepped in, still carving, still feeling the mist dance and twist around her face… but on some level she knew there was no mist in this cave, that the fog that was obscuring her vision and her thoughts was of her own making, a figment of her mind and nothing else…
And as that thought occurred to her, the fog suddenly cleared enough for her to see her hand. She stared down at it, shocked to her bones by what she saw there, wracked with disbelief. Gone was her pink skin, her slightly bitten fingernails… instead, the hand she saw before her was twisted and old, tinged blue in the low light of the cave… but what was worse than that were the long, wicked talons that sprouted from her wizened fingers. Talons of slate gray, like iron or steel… talons that were wickedly sharp, sharp enough to carve the very rock itself… and she stumbled backwards, horrified by what she had discovered, horrified by what she had become…
And then she was awake, sitting up in bed and breathing hard as the dream cleared. Heart still pounding, she threw the bedsheets back, wrenching her hands up to stare at them wildly in the pre-dawn light in the room… and she took a deep breath, desperately grateful to see her normal pink skin, her short, regular fingernails, the little scar at the base of her thumb where she'd fallen on a particularly sharp piece of wood as a child…
Dreams, she thought dazedly. Dreams were important. All of the women had told her that… and in the absence of much other concrete information about the Black Annis, she'd take what she could get. What had this dream meant, though? She'd been wandering the caves, searching for someone, calling their name… she'd thought she was looking for the Black Annis, but all along she'd been the monster… but what did it mean, that she was dreaming from the perspective of the creature? She shivered a little, drawing the bedclothes back around her shoulders — her little fire had long since burned out and it was chilly in the room, even with the window shut and barred against the monster that was stalking the night. It had been frightening, yes, to look down at her hands and realize that she was the Annis… but the worst part of the dream by far had in fact been the loneliness, the engulfing sense of grief and loss.
She knew she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, so she got up and dressed herself, smiling at how much easier it had already gotten to slip into the several layers of clothing that were worn beneath even a simple dress. She'd gotten into the habit of wearing her old jeans underneath the skirt, both for an extra layer of warmth and in case she needed to ride a horse — the skirts got in the way a little, but she preferred having the extra layer of cloth between her and the horse. What was she going to do when her jeans wore out? Learn how to fix them, she supposed with a grin. Everyone in this castle knew how to sew — it was just one more thing she'd need to learn.
She headed downstairs for breakfast, but she could already sense that there was something wrong. A kind of intuition, she supposed… a prickle on the back of her neck, a sense of uneasiness that she didn't usually feel within the walls of the Keep. She hesitated in the entrance hall, feeling the strangest pull toward the doors… so she headed outside, not sure why she was walking in that direction, only knowing that she wanted to.
Sure enough, there was noise in the courtyard. She could see the guards atop the wall where the gate stood on the other side of the courtyard, calling to each other urgently as they worked to raise the enormous steel gate. There was a figure riding through on horseback, and as he got closer she could see under the hood of his cloak that it was a familiar face — Oliver, the farmer who'd so graciously taken them in the other night. But gone was the friendly smile she remembered him wearing, gone was the easy manner — he looked terrified, like he hadn't slept all night, and he barely stopped his horse before he vaulted down from its back, almost stumbling as he hit the ground. Helena rushed to his side, moving quickly down the steps to the castle, her eyes wide with worry.
"Oliver! What's wrong?"
"I remember you," he said, eyes widening as he looked at her. She fell into step beside him as he strode into the hall of the Castle, pulling his cloak down from around his shoulders and staring wildly about the deserted Hall. It was still too early for most of the folk of the Castle to be up, and he clenched his jaw.
"Is everything alright?"
"Helena, wasn't it? The young lass with the soldiers. You're the one who noticed the steps, noticed the thing was staring through her window." He sounded distraught, beside himself.
"Oliver — what's wrong?"
"She's gone," he said bleakly, and she could feel the horror dawning in her own mind. "Mary's gone. That thing took her."
Chapter 23
It wasn't long before Laird Donal came to them. Helena had flagged down a servant as soon as she'd realized what was happening with Oliver and sent the girl to fetch the Laird immediately. He looked half-asleep, but his eyes were alert and a worried frown creased his face as soon as he saw Oliver standing in the entrance hall.
"Laird Donal," the man said, sketching a neat little bow, though Helena could tell he was distracted and that the courtesies were the furthest thing from important to him right now. "My apologies for disturbing you at such an hour. I have awful news."
"What's wrong, Oliver?"
"The creature — whatever it is that's been stalking our flocks and taking our lambs — it's been — I've been —" He was stumbling over his words and Helena took his arm, squeezing it hard, trying to lend him some of her strength. He shot her a grateful look before continuing. "We saw its tracks around the house the other night. Helena here noticed it was staring in at my daughter's window. I woke in the night — maybe an hour ago — thought I heard my daughter screaming. Was worried she might have had bad dreams, or something. But when I went in to check on her, she…" He swallowed hard and she could hear him fighting tears. "She was gone, Laird Donal. Gone from her bed, the blankets all kicked and thrown about. And the window was wide open, the lock on it broken."
"Did you see it?" Laird Donal wanted to know. His eyes were full of dismay. "Did you see where it went with her?"
"I ran straight out, tried to find any tracks by torchlight, but the rain had washed anything useful away," the farmer said, shaking his head with grief. "I don't know what to do, Laird Donal. I was beside myself — my wife suggested I come straight here, so that's what I did." He spread his hands uselessly. "Can you help? Is there anything —"
"Of course we'll help," Donal said firmly. "We'll do everything we can to get your daughter back, Oliver. You have my word."
And with that h
e was gone, sweeping off into the depths of the castle, presumably to rouse the guards and organize a search party. That left Helena with Oliver. She could see that the man was trembling, clearly very shaken by his ordeal — she led him gently by the arm through to the dining hall, where she sat him down and tried to convince him to have a glass of water to drink at least. He did what he was told, but she could see that his thoughts were far away.
"She's so little," he kept saying, shaking his head. "She's just so little…. what if she's hurt, what if that thing…"
Helena took a deep breath, torn between her own fear and wanting to comfort the man. "We think… we think the creature is lonely," she said softly, thinking of her dreams. "We think it wants companionship. I think… I think it's likely that it won't harm Mary. It may just want to… to keep her with it."
"Like some kind of pet?" Oliver said, horror on his face.
She shrugged her shoulders, helpless to say much more than that. "More like… a child. We think the creature may… may want to be a mother, in a strange way. We think maybe she lost a child, once." How much should she tell this man about what she knew of the Black Annis — that it may well be a woman who once lived a normal life, a woman he may well have run into in the village now and again? "So have hope," she said firmly, squeezing his arm. "She could very well be safe and sound. She's a brave girl."
"She is at that," Oliver said softly, his eyes full of love for his daughter. "I only pray… I only pray she's well. I wish I'd barred her window! I locked it tight, but I hadn't gotten around to nailing wood over it — I wish I'd —"
"You can't blame yourself," Helena said softly. They sat together for a long while — she quickly gave up on trying to coax the distraught shepherd into eating something — before the sound of commotion in the entrance hall drew her attention. She got to her feet, and Oliver followed her into the entrance hall, where dozens of guards had gathered. Brendan was there, too — her heart skipped a beat when she saw him, and he gave her a smile as he strode over.
"Oliver. Good to see you. I'm so sorry for what's happened," he said, shaking his head. "I promise you, we'll find her."
"You have my thanks, Brendan."
"We've organized search parties. We'll cover as much of the moor as we can — we're going to work from your place out across the moors toward the sandstone cliffs. If she's anywhere, she'll be there."
"That's the second time someone's called this thing a 'she'," Oliver said, glancing curiously at Helena. "Do you know more about it now than you did? Is it some kind of … mother bear, or something?"
Brendan sighed. "Honestly, we don't know what it is. For now, we're just going to focus on trying to find Mary. Will you ride with us?"
"Of course. My horse is in the courtyard —"
"I'm coming too," Helena said firmly. Brendan looked at her, surprised.
"Are you sure? We have plenty of guards —"
"I'm coming," she repeated, pinning him with a steely gaze that dared him to try to challenge her on this one. She'd made a scene in front of all of these guards if she had to. "There's no way I'm staying in the castle when a little girl's lost out there —"
"Very well," Brendan said with a shrug. "You can ride well enough?"
"I've had lessons from the best," she said with a smile, thinking of Marianne's careful tutelage. "Besides, I've got good eyes."
"The more searchers, the quicker we find her," Oliver said firmly. And with that, they were on their way. Helena was impressed by how quickly the guards had mobilized — it seemed like the whole staff was here, dozens of men running back and forth, helping each other tack up horses and get ready for the search. She saw one packing torches and realized with a shiver that they were either expecting the search to go on into the night… or planning to go into the sandstone caves to find the monster. That sent fear prickling at her stomach… but the idea of the Annis dragging poor little Mary deep into the caves was so frightening that she was glad the guards were planning on going in there.
To her relief, nobody had taken the placid black mare she'd been riding yet. She led her out, tacked her up as quickly as she could, and jumped onto her back, glad she was wearing her jeans under her skirts. It felt good to be acting, to actually be doing something useful in the face of all the uncertainty about the Annis, about what it was, how best to proceed against it… she rode alongside Brendan at the back of the group, listening as he barked instructions to the guard. They'd fan out and ride across the moors toward Oliver's farmhouse, then split up to search in more detail between the farmhouse and the sandstone cliffs.
The sun climbed higher and higher into the sky as they searched. Helena settled quickly into the rhythm of riding, scanning the ground ahead of them carefully. They passed the farmhouse an hour or so later — Helena could see Oliver's wife standing in the doorway, and she lifted an arm to wave to the search party. The men waved back, and Helena hoped that the woman took some comfort in their numbers, in knowing that the men of the castle were on the search for her missing daughter. She only hoped that they'd find her safe and well, return her to her family before night fell…
It was midday when a cry went up along the line, and the search was halted. Curious, Helena rode with Brendan up to where the call had been made, and she blinked in confusion to see a band of maybe a dozen men on horses, all wearing worried expressions. They weren't men she knew — with the exception of one familiar face, who spurred his black horse forward to greet Brendan. It was Sir Baldric, Weatherby's man — and he looked a little confused to see the men of the Clan out in force like this.
"Brendan MacClaran. What are you all doing out here?" Baldric asked warily — and Helena realized belatedly that this was a potentially tricky political situation. Lord Weatherby's territory was nearby, from what she'd gathered — was Baldric going to assume that some kind of attack was being mounted? There seemed to have been some tension between Laird Donal and Lord Weatherby…
"We're searching for a lost child," Brendan explained, raising his voice so that Baldric's men could all hear the explanation — then lowering his voice again for the details. "It seems the creature has graduated from taking baby lambs to human children."
Baldric shook his head in dismay, his face gray. "That's exactly what we're out here for."
Brendan looked blank. "Did Oliver's wife come to Lord Weatherby for aid?"
"I don't know any Oliver. One of the servants came to me this morning, all torn up with fear. Said her son had gone missing overnight — said the window had been torn open, showed us tracks in the mud. These strange, long, twisted footprints — almost human, but not quite."
Helena's heart sank to her toes — she could see that Brendan recognized that description too from the look of dismay on his face. "The Black Annis."
"We think so," Baldric said grimly.
"Let's join forces," Brendan said firmly. "The more eyes we have on this, the better. And it's pretty clear that we're all looking for the same thing."
Sure enough, the men wearing Weatherby's livery all fell in amongst the MacClaran guards, and the search continued. There was an uneasy energy between the men, but as the afternoon wore on Helena got the sense that working together on the same project was forging ties between them. The search for lost children… that was a universal human project, no matter the political differences between you. Baldric and Brendan rode together, chatting as they searched, and Helena smiled to herself to see a friendship forming between the men.
They were deep in conversation about the various parts of London they both knew when the line came to a halt again. They'd reached the edges of the sandstone cliffs, and there was some commotion as the men dismounted their horses and set about ensuring the beasts were tethered safely to a small stand of trees near the edge of the cliff. The intent was clear — all of these men intended to go straight into the cliffs to find the children. It seemed word has spread about where the dead guards had been found… everyone in the search party knew that the crea
ture they were searching for would be found in these sandstone caves, more likely than not. Brendan and Baldric were exchanging worried glances, and they called the men in to discuss the plan of action.
It seemed that none of the men knew how to access the caves — but all of them were willing to go in to find the creature. Weatherby's men all had swords at their hips, and she could see that the MacClaran guards were armed, too — they drew the packed torches out and distributed them amongst each other, their expressions grim.
"Now, how do we get in?" Baldric wanted to know, scanning the cliff's edge thoughtfully. "There's a hell of a lot of undergrowth in the way…"
Helena raised her hand, realizing this was something she could actually help with. "I know where the entrance is," she said. "I've been in there before — I know the lay of the land of at least the first few caves. I'm happy to lead the way —"
"No," Brendan said straight away, his expression drawn. "It's too dangerous."
"Caves aren't dangerous to me," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Need I remind you that I do this for a hobby? This is something I actually know about."
"I don't doubt your skills underground," Brendan said, raising his hands. "But it's not an empty cave you're going into. The creature that's in there… there's no predicting what it might do. You're unarmed, Helena. And you don't know how to fight with a sword. I can't let you go in there by yourself."
She gritted her teeth, unwillingly admitting that he was right. If the creature came at her again, she wouldn't be able to defend herself. The image of being trapped inside a cave with the Black Annis crossed her mind, and she shuddered. "Fine," she said irritably. "But I'm still the one that knows the way in — the best way we know about yet, anyway."
Highlander Hunted: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander In Time Book 8) Page 18
