Bloodstone: 2 (Rebel Angels)

by Gillian Philip

  Seth rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘They’re all fine. Only sleeping. I do hate confrontations. Besides, I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’m fond of them.’

  ‘Conal...’

  ‘Is too busy sorting out his personal life to worry about us.’ Seth glanced into the woods. ‘He’s not looking, and he won’t be back for a long time.’ He smiled. ‘Anyway, he trusts me.’

  Jed’s heart crashed painfully in his chest. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You never have.’ Seth’s face was almost kind as he urged the horse forward. ‘Have you?’

  Jed looked back once at the bothy, despairing, then began to jog to keep up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ panted Jed. ‘Where are you taking him?’

  ‘Where he can do most good.’ Seth’s perfect calmness was what finally sparked Jed’s panic. ‘And where most good can come to him.’

  ‘Why?’ shouted Jed. He didn’t care why. Anything to delay him till Conal came back.

  ‘Why? Because he’s the Bloodstone. Because I have a right to him. As much as you, and let’s face it, probably more.’

  Jed flung himself at the roan. Swinging its face towards him it bared its teeth and was restrained only by Seth’s hand.

  ‘Give him to me! Give him back!’ Jed grabbed the reins behind the bit and hung on for his life. Dodging the snapping jaws, he brought the roan to a snorting, slavering halt by the weight of his own body.

  ‘Oh, of course. As if.’ The sinews in Seth’s forearms stood out as he fought to control the horse’s rage. Snagged between his arms, nestled against his chest, Rory didn’t even stir.

  ‘You’ve no right! You didn’t help him get born! You didn’t even wait to see him!’

  ‘I’ve warned you before, be wary of the horses. So this is for your own good.’ Seth’s foot lashed out, catching Jed a savage blow on his ear with a Timberland boot. As he staggered in pain, Seth seized him by the back of the neck, dragging him towards him. Jed was still hopelessly off balance when Seth struck him hard on the side of his head.

  Flung a good distance, Jed landed against a heather tussock, the air knocked out of his lungs and his skull ringing. He heard the beat of hooves goaded to a canter, and he heard Seth’s departing words as if from a great distance.

  ‘Your own good. And Rory’s.’

  The world did not make sense for what felt like a very long time. There was too much chaos in his head, too much confusion, and – damn Seth to hell – there was too much pain. After a while he couldn’t measure, Jed rolled onto his side, put his head in his hands, and let himself sob, softly and very briefly.

  And that was enough of that.

  He dug his fingers into dirt and leaf mould, finding purchase and pushing himself groggily to his feet. He staggered; caught his balance. For a moment he stood in the wild wind, swaying a little. Above and around him, the noise of the trees was huge and hostile.

  Conal. He could wait for Conal; except that Conal’s rage and madness had set his teeth on edge. He’d crept after the brothers earlier that night; had seen Conal strike Seth viciously, had seen him curse the sky.

  Trust him, Seth had said; but what was Seth’s word worth? He’d taken Rory. Conal wanted the boy, too, and why should either of them give him back to Jed if they were insane enough to think he was important to them?

  Hell, no.

  Flicking one last glance back at the bothy, letting one spasm of regret tighten his gut, Jed turned on his heel, and went after Seth.

  Winter was days away. He felt it like a massing presence beyond the horizon, a building stormcloud. It was the light as much as the temperature, a chill of brightness that permeated the sky but barely lit the earth. Where sunlight did pierce the shadows it had a glowing honey intensity. Beyond the upsweep of streaked violet cloud the unearthly light of a concealed sun was intimidating: a warning to everything that crawled on the ground to scurry into holes and stay there till spring.

  He wished he could do that himself. Lying flat on a slab of lichened rock, he searched the landscape, for a moment half-regretting his flight from the bothy. But that was only cold, and misery. He hadn’t had a choice. Lifting his shaking fingers to the side of his face, he touched the swelling bruise that marked him from temple to jaw.

  No. He’d had no choice.

  Trouble was, he had no idea what to do, where to go. Now that he knew what had happened to him, now that he’d been warned, he could keep his mind to himself, and he’d had enough of a start on Conal. The man had probably taken his small patrol back to his precious dun, for that matter. The fate of Jed wouldn’t concern him.

  But after the short day’s journey, it was beginning to concern Jed very much.

  He stared across the valley. In the ominous dusk the blue-grey clouds were blotched with snow-light, the pale sky floodlit while the earth lay in shadow. The air smelt of frost and oncoming night.

  Jed frowned. Only one chunk of the landscape drew the dying light, and that was a solitary hill, two or three miles distant. It looked lit from within, its summit glowing pink and translucent above thin blizzard-drifts of cloud. It was eerily like looking through rock to the bare flesh of the land.

  He’d started to scramble to his feet when he felt his hackles bristle, and then he heard it: a clear hoof-fall. Jed froze. He wondered if Conal would only kick the shit out of him, or just kill him and be done with it.

  ‘You’re going the wrong way.’

  It wasn’t Conal’s voice; it held a tinge of accent that Jed couldn’t place. His spine crackled with fear. He knew he’d have to turn in the end, but it took every scrap of guts he had left to do it.

  The horse was the colour of a fox, and it was no water horse. It was saddled, a thoroughbred with a fine head, pricked ears, and a silver gleam in its otherwise ordinary horse-eyes.

  A man leaned on the pommel. His face was Viking-handsome, his reddish-blond hair and beard cropped very short. He had a look of great curiosity on his face, and his eyes were simply the warmest brown eyes that had ever mesmerised Jed, the colour of melted sugar.

  ‘And you are?’

  Jed tensed, but not with fear. ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Well, None Of Your Business,’ the man laughed, ‘this is private land. So will you be moving on quickly or will you be telling me what you are doing on it?’

  ‘I’ll be telling you that I’m looking for my little brother,’ said Jed, managing to sound both mocking and aggressive. ‘So if you won’t be telling me where I can start to look, I’ll be going right on. It’s a free country. There’s a right to roam. You can’t throw me off this land.’

  The rider was silent, half-smiling, as if he both could and would do just that.

  ‘Nevertheless, you are going the wrong way. If you don’t believe me, go on and get lost and die of exposure. See if that helps your precious brother.’

  Jed grunted, bit his lip. Looked across the valley to the far hill. Came to a decision.

  ‘I’m looking for Seth MacGregor.’

  Indulgently, the rider rolled his warm brown eyes. ‘Aren’t they all. Well, I can take you right to him, if you ask nicely. Cuilean.’

  Jed swallowed to hear his name spoken by this unexpected man. He beat down the rising fear, and let himself hope. And for the first time in his life, he let himself beg.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please.’

  ‘Good!’ The rider grinned and slapped the thoroughbred’s shoulder. ‘You know when to swallow your pride. That makes you almost a man, not a whelp, and they’re arrogant fools to call you one. Come, then.’ Taking up the reins he turned the chestnut’s head and urged it forward. With his back confidently presented, Jed could see the bronze-hilted sword buckled to it, and the sleek modern crossbow that hung from his saddle.

  He didn’t feel like arguing anyway.

  The light had gone from the far hill now, its silhouette fading into the wintry sky, but Jed kept up easily with the horse’s pace. The warm gaze of its rider made his
scalp itch.

  The man gave a low laugh. ‘Listen mate, you stick with me. I’m no witch. Not like the freaks.’

  ‘Aye, right,’ said Jed. ‘What are you doing here then?’

  The rider wasn’t letting it go. ‘I came with a woman, mate. Got me out of a tight spot.’ He chuckled. There wasn’t much humour in it. ‘I’d stay in stranger places for a woman like her. But you watch these faeries. They’re not like you and me. Can’t trust them, mate. You watch that Seth.’

  Jed gave him a cool look. ‘Don’t you worry about me, mate.’

  At a distance the hill had had a barren look, but as they climbed higher the trees grew denser and the mist frayed. Underfoot Jed could feel heather and soft peat, alive with fungi, blaeberry and bearberry. Though the light faded fast and the night darkened, the forest was dappled with starlight, and the silver light stayed constant, so he wasn’t quite aware when the sky vanished and a narrow twisted cavern opened into a hall flagged with grey stone and roofed with arches of ancient wood, high as a cathedral. Vines twisted up the pillars, moss and pale lichen frosted every edge and curve, and the air was white-scented with night flowers.

  It could have been heartbreakingly beautiful, thought Jed. But only if your heart was the right shape.

  He was aware of being watched, aware of murmurs of interest, of people loitering in the shadows to follow his progress, but he felt surprisingly unthreatened. When the echoing hoof-falls halted, the blond rider beckoned him forward and dismounted, keeping his hand on the bridle.

  ‘Kate. Another guest.’ A fragile green veil sighed as he drew it aside.

  The woman who rose from the bed pulled crumpled linen sheets across her nakedness. She didn’t seem so terrifying. She wasn’t intimidatingly tall, but her beauty was breathtaking. Her hair was a bolt of copper silk that caught the light as she pushed it out of her heart-stopping eyes. They were golden, like the eyes of Conal’s wolf’s, but darker: the colour of honey. Her smile was wide, there were faint laughter creases at her eyes, and her expression was all warmth and kindness.

  ‘Jed, darling one. Welcome home!’

  Jed barely heard her. He was too busy staring at the man who rose from Kate’s white-linen bed, who tugged on his jeans and came forward into the flickering silver light, buckling his belt. The bronze buckle was familiar; it had crossed Jed’s mind to nick it. It might have been crass if it hadn’t been so beautifully carved: the outstretched wings of a merlin.

  Seth was all languid, loose-jointed, but there was a febrile glint in his eyes as he leaned on the wall unsmiling. His chest and arms and stomach were as hacked about with old scars as Conal’s. Jed had thought of him as weaker than Conal, and he realised with a sickening jolt that he wasn’t. He was smaller, and leaner, but his spare thinness was all strength, like one of those steel cables that if it snapped could take your head right off.

  Seth’s angular face was harder than ever, his left eye violently bruised and swollen and filled with a whole new intensity of pain and hate. It was impossible to go on looking into it, so Jed’s gaze slewed to the tattoo on his shoulder muscle, intricate knotwork that came to a point at his bicep. It was identical to Conal’s, to the one he’d seen when the man stripped to wash. Only yesterday, he thought. After Jed had slept on his shoulder. Something knotted Jed’s stomach, and suddenly he felt like howling with regret, as if he’d made some terrible mistake but didn’t yet know what it was.

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Safe,’ said Seth.

  ‘No. I said where is he?’

  ‘Hush, lad.’ Kate touched Jed’s arm, but he ignored her. ‘Seth’s telling you the truth,’ she said. ‘Rory is safe. And he’s happy, happier than ever he’d be with bandits and rebels in the wilderness. I’ll take you to him.’

  She glanced back over her shoulder at Seth. She seemed to hold his gaze exactly as long as she wanted to, and when she broke it Seth looked sick. This time he avoided Jed’s eyes. Seizing a white shirt from the tumble of sheets he pulled it on, covering the tattoo. The shirt looked thin and cool but it clung to his damp muscles as if he was burning up with shame and desire.

  All the same he shot a look of contempt at the blond rider, who spat on the floor as he passed. Seth stopped. Loathing oozed out of him like sweat.

  ‘You hurt the whelp, Laszlo, I’ll have your balls on a spike.’

  Jed swallowed hard and stared at the blond, whose lip was curled in something not unlike amusement. Though not much like it, either.

  ‘Boys,’ murmured Kate. ‘Laszlo won’t touch the young man, Murlainn. Jed is my guest. Although if you’re keen on him yourself...’ She left it hanging, her mouth quirking with the joke.

  Seth turned, and searched Kate’s golden eyes. ‘Oh, I believe he’s taken.’

  Kate’s facial muscles tightened ever so slightly, but her smile remained fixed. ‘Murlainn?’

  ‘Isn’t he? Spoken for? I thought that was Laszlo’s whole problem.’

  ‘Naughty.’ With an air of barely contained patience, Kate flicked out her hand towards Seth, presenting the back of it.

  He stared at it for long seconds, then sullenly took a step back towards her. Lifting her hand, he kissed it, and pressed it to his forehead.

  ‘Better.’ Kate’s lively air was restored. ‘Now, Nils. You and I will take Jed to his brother.’

  Seth strode out of the hall in silence, the dark shape of Branndair loping to his side as he disappeared through an archway.

  ‘Such a sulker.’ Kate tied a leather belt round her dress and ushered Jed and Laszlo from the hall. ‘Now, you’re my guest, Jed! Go where you like. Treat my home as your own. Because that’s what it is.’

  She made his flesh crawl. Having her strolling languidly at his back gave him a horrible sense of being stalked by a spider. For all her warmth and delight and her beauty, he didn’t like this place and he didn’t like her. The beauty left him cold, especially the wind chill from her fluttering eyelashes.

  The passageway seemed interminable, but ahead of him Laszlo stopped quite suddenly and smiled. Jed became aware of a fast, itching beat of music; with a flourish Laszlo ushered him into a room where maybe a dozen women clustered round something on the floor. In the centre sat Rory, focus of all their attention, his barleycorn hair catching the light as he slapped at a hide bodhran. Losing the rhythm entirely he giggled and fell over, ending the music and sending the women into gales of laughter.

  The laughter hesitated and died as Jed shoved forward to Rory and hoisted him into his arms. Some of the women glared at the intrusion, but Kate was behind him, smiling and stepping forward. As if catching their cue from her, the women relaxed and sighed indulgently. Jed shut his eyes, hugging Rory, afraid to let him go again.

  A woman leaned over Jed’s shoulder to tickle Rory’s chin. ‘He’s a darling,’ she cooed.

  ‘But not your darling.’ Jed jerked him away from her hand, but his frown slackened in puzzlement. ‘I’ve seen you before.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Her smile was coy but wary.

  ‘Black jumper.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Cheap red blazer.’

  Kate stepped between them, dismissing the woman with a warning glance. ‘Come, Jed. I’m sorry it had to be this way but you’d never have brought him to me otherwise. Your brother is where he belongs now, and so are you.’

  ‘Don’t use my name. You don’t know me.’

  ‘Ah! Too long with bandits.’ Kate laughed softly. ‘Oh Cuilean, not all the Sithe are psychotic. If Conal wants to ride around the wilds with his gang, looting my farms and taking his sword to my men, let him. Let him see where it gets him. Cù Chaorach is a sorrow to me, but I wish him no harm, despite all he’s done.’

  ‘That’s not what—’

  ‘Ah, you’ve heard a different story? My dear, Conal may seem old to you but believe me, he has some growing up to do.’ Closing her eyes, Kate sighed. ‘I’d so like to see him get the chance.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’

&
nbsp; ‘Oh, come, don’t be like that. I love that man with all my heart, but Cù Chaorach is a bomb with a very short fuse. Even Finn agrees.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ muttered Jed.

  ‘Then she can tell you herself. Can’t you, my dear?’

  In the silence and stillness, there was movement. Out of the shadows further back, one of the women slowly stood up: the youngest of all of them. Only by blinking and squinting into the dimness did Jed recognise her, and his gut turned over.

  ‘Finn?’

  She reddened as she came forward, but she didn’t avert her gaze. ‘Hello, Jed.’

  ‘There.’ Kate clapped her hands. ‘I think we’ll let you two catch up. Hmm? You must have such a lot to talk about.’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ he told her, searching Rory fruitlessly for signs of mistreatment: bruises, nits, unscrubbed fingernails, anything. ‘But I kind of expected to find you in a dungeon.’

  She twisted a strand of hair manically between her fingers. ‘Well. That’s what I’d have thought too. Before. You know. Now.’

  ‘Conal’s so worried about you.’

  She laughed. ‘I was worried about me too. But only till they brought me here. Jed, she hasn’t hurt me, she hasn’t threatened me; she hasn’t even tried to scare me.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s lovely. The lights are on full-blast. But nobody’s home. There’s nothing behind her eyes.’

  ‘Are you seriously calling her stupid?’

  ‘I’m not talking about her brain.’

  Finn opened her mouth. Shut it again, and frowned. ‘Watch yourself. Remember she can see in your head.’

  ‘It’s all friendly little threats in this place, isn’t it? If I can keep Seth out of my head – and I can, now – I can keep her out.’

  She looked at him then as if seeing him for the first time. ‘Jed.’ She took a breath. ‘What happened to your face?’

  He’d forgotten all about it. Absently he touched it, felt the throb of pain in his flesh. It was like the ache of a very old, scabbed-over cut.