I had turned back to the village before I caught myself. No. I needed to stay out here and clear my head. Everything in me was burning with a desire for Lauren or freezing with a cold fury waiting to be used once again. I needed to make smart decisions and going back to Lauren without a clear plan for getting her out of here would be beyond foolish.
There was a cackle in the distance. Instinct drove me to approach fast and low crouching down as I made my way toward the sound. I stopped, dropping to one knee behind the toppled stones that had once been another cairn, and peered around the stones. A scraggly looking figure was bouncing around in the distance cackling and spinning in circles. It wasn’t much taller than Lauren but definitely skinnier, almost skeletal. I bit back a curse as I caught a glimpse of rough greyish-green skin, exaggerated chin and nose, and a dark-colored cap. A redcap. If the cowardly scavenger of a goblin was this far north, it must be tagging after one of the more powerful paranormals. The question was which one.
The redcap continued to bounce around, cackling, but it didn’t notice me. And, it wouldn’t. I was a Myrmidon, and I was uninjured. The goblin suddenly shrieked and pointed off into the distance before running as though hellhounds now snapped at its heels. I stayed still, watching and listening for any sign of its current benefactor, but nothing emerged. Perhaps the redcap was going to rejoin whatever predator it was shadowing . . . the excitement seemed to indicate prey found.
I considered going after the redcap and tracking it to the true danger, then I dismissed the idea. The only reason to hunt them would be to protect Lauren, and she was safe behind the glamours and protections laid around the village. They should be strong enough to keep her presence hidden as long as she remained away from the border. My certainty faltered slightly, however, and I headed back toward the cottage. I just needed to make sure Lauren was safe and I would bed down in one of the outlying buildings.
“Mathias!”
Lauren’s voice carried to me, but it was fainter than it should have been. “Lauren!” I shouted as I quickened my pace.
There was no response.
I ran faster, worry whipping up the cold and causing it to freeze through my veins. Upon reaching the cottage, I dashed inside. Lauren was nowhere to be found. No. I raced back outside. She was injured and on crutches. Surely she couldn’t have gotten far.
“Lauren!” I shouted. The wind had already obscured her trail making things a little more difficult. I cupped my hands over my mouth and shouted again, “Lauren! Where are you?”
The memory of the redcap burned in my brain. Lauren was a small woman and she was injured, the perfect target for a redcap. She had no idea where the protection boundary lay between the ruins. I went back inside the cottage only long enough to grab a torch. Shining the light on the ground, I scanned the snow covered grass for any hint of Lauren’s passage. A little circle and the edge of a shoeprint led me to run northwest, bypassing the stable. I followed Lauren’s trail until it crossed the boundary.
“Mathias! Mathias, where are you?”
Relief penetrated my icy haze as I realized she was still okay. Her voice was faint though. My steps slowed a little as I gathered breath to shout an answer.
“Lauren, over here!”
Cold fury rippled through me. That was my voice, but I wasn’t the one calling out. One of the Fuath was hunting Lauren and luring her by mimicking my voice. The malevolent water spirits were akin to the kelpies but they were less water bound, enabling them to hunt for victims farther out from their haunts. This one must have come up out of a loch or a river . . . and it was most likely what the redcap had followed out here.
The Fuath mimicked my call again, moving toward the northern end of the glen. I ran faster, no longer following Lauren’s trail but tracking the Fuath itself. I needed to kill it before it could touch her.
Finally, I caught a glimpse of bright green crouched among the lichen covered ruins of what had been a storehouse. My steps slowed as I approached from behind. This particular Fuath was a little less than six feet in height with shaggy dull yellow hair and clad in a bright green robe. Its focus was on Lauren who was hobbling closer to the ruins, a determined look etched on her face.
The Fuath placed one webbed hand on the remnants of the stone wall and the spiked end of its tail flitted out from beneath the edge of its robe as it prepared to attack. I ran forward on silent feet, but my attack was interrupted by a screeching shadow. The redcap landed on my shoulder knocking me slightly off balance as it scratched at my face and neck. I reached up and dragged the pest off, throwing it away from me. It hopped up on one of the taller sections of the wall and cackled, waving its blood red cap. I followed its gaze . . . the Fuath was no longer poised to strike. Lauren.
Cold seeped through me, lending speed and strength to my movements, as I vaulted over the ruined wall. The Fuath had already reached Lauren, its webbed hands were latched around her neck as she gasped for breath and struggled to stay upright. She wasn’t able to kick at it but she still had one of her crutches in hand, which she swung at the Fuath’s head. The blow glanced off the Fuath’s shoulder, instead, then Lauren’s face changed and her grip on the crutch faltered.
The Fuath opened its mouth, revealing dark serrated teeth, as it continued strangling Lauren. Ice flooded my awareness as I reached them and tackled the Fuath, ripping its hands from around her throat. I sprang back to my feet before the Fuath could take advantage of my proximity to give a poisoned bite. The Fuath scrambled up and its spiked tail whipped toward me snagging in the top of my boot and knocking me on my back. It came in close, aiming for the kill, and I waited until it was leaning over me before I struck. The Fuath’s piercing shriek sounded like nails on a chalkboard as it reeled away clutching at its shoulder where the dagger had sunk hilt deep.
I got to my feet as the Fuath collapsed. The cold steel of my dagger turned it fatal despite the fact I hadn’t pierced the heart. I yanked the dagger out of the Fuath and wiped the blade clean on its robe, staining the bright green fabric with oily black blood. Sheathing the blade as I hurried back to Lauren, I spied the redcap leaping down from the ruins. It started to approach Lauren who was lying completely still on the ground, but stopped as soon as it noticed me.
The redcap hissed and cursed, but didn’t retreat when I drew my dagger once more. I bared my teeth at the goblin and offered the creature a cold promise, “Approach her and die.”
The redcap hissed again and rattled off a curse on my parents. Not that it would affect them since they were long dead. I flipped my dagger into a better throwing position and the goblin turned tail and ran. Coward.
I watched the redcap vanish and then sheathed my dagger once more. Dropping into a crouch beside Lauren, I held my hand over her nose and mouth. I didn’t relax until I felt her breath warm my palm. Thank God, the Fuath had not bitten her. My fingers traced over her cheek and then along her jaw to examine her throat. I didn’t feel any cuts, but pulled the torch out of my coat pocket to be sure.
A fresh wave of cold fury swept over me as I took in the bruising already darkening her skin. If it had been in my power, I would have revived the Fuath only to kill it again. “Lauren.” I looked around knowing the redcap might be compelled to linger if I didn’t get her back inside the boundary. My gaze dropped to her still features once more, and I brushed her hair back from her face. “Lauren, you need to wake up.”
She still didn’t respond. Only her breathing assured me that she wasn’t going to fade. If the Fuath had managed to bite or scratch her, she would have succumbed to the poison by now. Unwilling to wait any longer outside the protection of the glamours, I scooped Lauren into my arms and started back to the cottage.
As I walked, I struggled to ignore the sense of rightness that settled over me with Lauren in my arms. The pull toward her strengthened forcing back the cold detachment and fury. She had risked injury, hypothermia, and getting lost . . . She had made her way to a Fuath because she was trying to find me. Lauren gave a lo
w moan, and I realized I was crushing her against my chest. I loosened my grip and whispered, “That was a foolish thing to do, Lauren.”
“Mathias?”
Lauren was squinting up at me and her voice was a rough whisper, but it soothed me nonetheless. My own throat tightened and I found myself unable to respond save for a curt nod. By the time I reached the cottage, Lauren was shivering terribly. I set her down in front of the fireplace and tossed more wood onto the fire feeding the greedy flames. Then, I turned my attention back to her. “Take your coat off.”
“No,” came the hoarse refusal. She frowned at me. “What happened?”
“You almost got yourself killed because you crossed the boundary,” I stated, hearing the chill seeping into my calm and precise words. The image of Lauren in the Fuath’s clutches flashed before me again. I clenched my jaw and turned away from her as I found the tea kettle. The water was boiling and only needed tea leaves. I busied myself with the tea as I added, “You shouldn’t have gone out there. I told you to stay in the cottage.”
“Actually you didn’t say anything. As usual.”
I looked over my shoulder to find her glaring at me. “I told you too much as it was, but you should have the common sense to stay inside where you will be safe.” I poured her a mug of tea and handed it to her. “Drink this before you lose your voice entirely. And, stop trying to talk.”
The look she gave me would have killed if she had been a different paranormal. There was silence as she drank her tea, and I lingered only long enough to assure myself she was moving without pain or stiffness. Then, I headed for the door. My steps slowed, however, when she broke the silence, “I see you’re running away again.”
I turned back to find her watching me, disapproval in her dark eyes. I frowned at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You are running away, again,” she repeated.
A harsh laugh escaped me as I stepped toward her. “I am not running.”
“Looks like a duck . . .”
I glared at her. “Why are you doing this, Lauren? Are you being foolish because you’re a Spotter or because you’re female?”
Lauren sucked in her breath. “Get off your high horse, Mathias! Don’t make this about me when everything that has happened since we left Edinburgh has happened because you decided to stop talking to me. Instead, I’m given the choice to go with you to wherever by however means that you don’t bother to discuss with me or strike out on my own knowing your current frame of mind is ripe for stupid ideas about going after Weard’s hunters for no reason.”
“If I went after them, it was to protect you,” I countered coolly.
Lauren laughed, but there was no pleasure in it. She tugged her shawl down and ran her fingers through her hair, sending pins tumbling, then shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m here, Mathias. I truly don’t. You are being completely unreasonable, and I don’t understand why. You just stopped talking about the plan and made all these changes by yourself like I’m just some sort of baggage you have to handle and move around until you decide you’re done. Then you disappear, leaving me alone for hours or days, without ever offering an explanation of why we’re doing this or why we’re going to go here instead of there. Which is what you did when we were still in the States. We talked, we made plans together. But for the last two weeks, you’ve been acting like you don’t even know what together means or how to share your plan before you enact it. And, I don’t understand why this changed. Why you changed. Because you believe you’re Myrmidon?”
“I didn’t lie about my heritage,” I stated as icily as I could, glaring down at her. “Who would claim such a heritage on a whim?”
Lauren pursed her lips. “Fine. You’re a Myrmidon. It would certainly explain a few things. Achilles liked to run away too, after all.”
“Enough!” I snapped. “You were almost killed tonight because you were being a hardheaded fool, Lauren. I am a Myrmidon. I don’t require your protection or your help.”
“I was almost killed tonight,” she countered in a low voice, “because I was looking for you. There may be a hardheaded fool in this cottage, but it most certainly isn’t me.” She staggered to her feet and balanced precariously. “If you decide to vanish again, I would greatly appreciate it if you returned my crutches before doing so.”
I moved to steady her, but she held up a hand. As she hopped and limped her way to the bedroom, I called after her, “Lauren.” When she stopped, she didn’t turn to look at me and that was for the best. “Do not come after me again. Stay inside where you will be safe.”
She braced herself in the doorway and for a moment she said nothing, then she offered a slight nod. “Don’t worry, Mathias. I’m going back to my old habits, which include never chasing after a 10.”
She limped into the bedroom and closed the door firmly behind her. I forced myself to head outside returning to the spot where she was attacked. I searched for the recap, but the goblin had already retreated beyond the glen and so I left it. Gathering Lauren’s crutches, I took them back to the cottage. I set them up against the table and then stared at the closed bedroom door for a long moment. The burning pull I felt made me consider knocking until she opened it and I would . . .
I shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t tell her everything she wanted. It was too dangerous and it would only tie her more firmly to me. I couldn’t do that to her. Better she stayed angry and alive than grow too close and die for that act. A Spotter and a Myrmidon did not belong together.
* * *
Chapter Nine
Lauren
Mathias wasn’t there when I finally emerged from the bedroom after a rather fitful night of sporadic sleep. He had left the crutches for me to find, so perhaps I hadn’t erred as badly as I feared. Looking back, I wished I hadn’t snapped at him but all the stress and worry over him finally combined with my anger to hit the boiling point. I sat at the table putting my hair in a braid and trying to ignore the urge to go look for him.
He was a grown man, a 10 for goodness’ sake, what did he need me for? Looking out for him? Hardly. Realistically, I couldn’t defend him from anything unless a minor miracle occurred and I was not only healed but also much more skilled at combat. I spot threats, confronting and attacking them is definitely not what I trained to do. And, obviously, he no longer wanted to talk to me so we probably weren’t even friends anymore.
My heart gave a twinge at the thought, but I only scolded myself. It was stupid to be upset about things. There had been no promise between us nothing except friendship and then a need to rely on him for help in escaping Weard’s hunters. That was all that truly tied us together. Mathias had made that clear.
So why did it bother me so much?
I couldn’t even begin to answer that question. If only because I knew, and I wouldn’t . . . couldn’t even think of it. It was too painful and stupid and everything I had worked to protect myself from come to life. I tried to keep myself busy, but hobbling around the cottage only lasted so long before I was ready to crawl up the walls.
The second day I finally ventured outside the cottage. A small part of me expected Mathias to swoop down from where he was hiding for the sole purpose of scolding me and escorting me back into the cottage. A larger part of me was disappointed when there was no sign of him. I ignored the urge to go look for him. He was still a 10. It was still dangerous to provoke him, and I was fairly certain that if I strayed too far, I would be treated to the sight of a provoked 10. Something I could most certainly live without experiencing after I had already witnessed his icy wrath up close and personally. Something else I would prefer to never see again.
I hobbled into the stable. Ailsa snuffled my coat in greeting and plucked at the hem, no doubt looking a snack. Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pulled out a little bag of baby carrots. I fed them to Ailsa and then Fife noticed. The gelding was quick to shove his head close enough to be slipped a few carrots as well. Artair acted as though he was above it all u
ntil I felt a hot breath against my neck and glanced over my shoulder to find him. His dark liquid gaze was steady as he waited. Soon the carrots were gone and all three horses were munching contentedly on their oats.
Looking around the stable, I noted that there were plenty of signs pointing to Mathias’ presence since he had to be taking care of the horses. When I finally left the stable, I didn’t return to the cottage right away. Instead, I wandered back to the small rundown house where I found him when he was trying to pry apart the fireplace. A strange mix of relief and disappointment roiled in my stomach when I pushed the door open to see only an empty room. There was nowhere in the one room house for anyone to hide, but I still ventured inside far enough to look around. I bit my lip as I realized I was looking for blankets or bedding of some type. Surely Mathias hadn’t resorted to sleeping in the stable. It wasn’t a proper stable. It was more of a lean-to that was just large enough to shelter the horses from the elements. Despite my earlier declarations of giving up on Mathias, I still wanted to, well, to know that he was okay. And that he was safe too. As angry as I was at him for not talking to me, I was really worried about him. He said he was a Myrmidon, and I had no choice but to believe him now. Or at least act as though I didn’t doubt his story. But that knowledge only made me worry more.
Eventually, I retreated back to the central cottage. The tiny seeds of hope I had been nurturing that I might find Mathias there vanished as soon as I entered. I thumped into the back room with a bit more force than necessary as I realized I was failing miserably at separating myself from the feelings that irritating man stirred up in me. I didn’t want Mathias to disappear. I didn’t want him to leave me alone, certainly not like this where I didn’t even know if he was truly staying in this hideaway anymore. The whole thing was an exercise in frustration and worry. I had never been fond of the trust exercises previous employers had forced me to participate in, and this was the worst one ever.
Flight by Numbers Page 10
