Forcing aside his confusion, he signaled to his cousins. They needed to slip into the clearing at her side and her back. They also needed to show the Hunters that they faced not one, but four MacNachtons. Gybbon hoped that would be enough to cause the men to flee. Although he ached to rid the world of this pack of Hunters, a battle now could lose him the girl, and returning a Lost One to the nest was of greater importance. Women with Outsider blood were fertile and his clan was in desperate need of those. When the thought of her bearing a child for some other MacNachton nearly made him growl, he pushed all thought of the woman from his mind. He had an enemy to rout.
“Ye killed Donald!” cried a short, stocky man.
“Nay, but I will if ye take even one step closer,” said the woman, her voice clear and sweet despite her battle-ready stance.
Gybbon nearly shook his head as he used the shadows to get as close to her as possible before he was seen. He did not understand why she did not just run. Why would she face so many armed men when she could outrun them or disappear into the shadows? They had not cornered her. She still had routes of escape opened to her.
“Ye will die here, demon bitch, and we will sniff out your stinking spawn and kill him, too.”
It was hard not to curse aloud at the words “stinking spawn.” Now Gybbon knew why she did not run. Somewhere, close at hand, was a child. A child that might also have MacNachton blood. He signaled his cousins and, one by one, each of them stepped out of the shadows. Martyn moved to the woman’s right, Lachann to her left, and Gybbon stepped up behind her. He wanted to stand in front of her but he had to make sure she did not try to flee from them once the Hunters were gone. When she spun around, Gybbon smiled, revealing his fangs. It was the quickest way he knew of letting her know they were allies.
Alice Boyd stared at the man who had crept up behind her. The fact that he had been able to get so close to her without her hearing a sound stunned her. It had been a mistake to turn around, however, exposing her back to the men who had been hunting her for far too long, but she had responded to a presence at her back with blind instinct. The fact that the men now flanking her and the one behind her all had fangs did little to comfort her. Just because they appeared to be as cursed as she was did not mean they were allies.
The man behind her grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her to his side. Still reeling from seeing that there were others like her, Alice did not fight his hold. She told herself that if these men sent her enemies running, at the end of the battle she would have only three men to deal with. It gave her a slightly better chance of coming out of this confrontation alive. She forced herself not to think of the fact that if they were like her, they would be a lot harder to beat or flee from than the Hunters. She could not let fear weaken her now.
For a moment all the men did was stare at each other. Alice was tempted to tell them to all cease posturing and get on with the fight. Then the man she had injured moaned, rolled onto his belly, and started to crawl toward his companions. She pushed aside the pinch of guilt and horror over the fact that she had so badly injured him. He had been trying to kill her, she reminded herself sternly.
She waited for the three men with her to do something but they only closed ranks around her. They were protecting her but she had no idea why. She did not know them. She was sure they did not know her. Even though they appeared to be like her, she had no knowledge of any kinsmen, either.
“There are only four of them,” protested the short, stocky man as two of the Hunters grabbed the wounded man and hefted him onto the back of a horse. “We should stand and fight.”
“Nay, not this time,” said a tall, muscular man as he mounted, never once taking his gaze off the woman and the men standing at her side. “Mount, Geordie. Now.”
“They will return,” said Alice the moment the last of her tormentors had disappeared into the night.
“Aye,” agreed the man still holding her wrist. “They will try to creep up on us and take us down one by one.”
“Then, mayhap, ye best hie right back to where ye came from.”
“Not without ye.”
Fear was a sharp pain in her heart but Alice fought to hide it from the men watching her so closely. “Why should I go with ye? I dinnae ken who ye are.”
“I am Gybbon MacNachton,” said the man holding her. He nodded toward the man on her left. “My cousin Lachann.” He nodded toward the other man. “My cousin Martyn. We have been searching for ye.”
MacNachton was but one of the names her tormentors had called her. It meant nothing to her. It did, however, add weight to what her instincts told her. These men were like her. Either the curse that plagued her was more widespread than she thought or they all shared a kinship. Yet, if there was a kinship, why had her mother or father never mentioned it?
Alice studied all three men before fixing her gaze on the one who still held her wrist. She beat down a surge of embarrassment, of humiliation, over being found in such a ragged state by three such handsome men. That was of no consequence. All that mattered was if she could trust them. It was not only her life that was at risk.
Her captor was achingly handsome, more so than his dark cousins, which made her feel even more ragged and filthy. She did not need her keen nose to know that he was clean. His skin and his clothes proclaimed it. He was tall, lean, and obviously strong. His face was all elegant lines and fair, unmarked skin. As close as she was to him, aided by both the bright moonlight and her own keen eyesight, she could even see the color of his eyes. They were a brilliant green and the look in them was one of wariness. Set beneath straight, dark brows and rimmed with thick, dark lashes, they were beautiful eyes, too beautiful for such a strong warrior. His long hair was so black the moonlight caused it to gleam with a slight blue sheen. Monsters should not be so handsome.
“Why have ye searched for me?” She tried to pull free of his grasp when she caught herself thinking his slightly full lips looked soft, and tempting, but he held fast to her.
“Weel, nay for ye exactly. We were sent out by our laird to find people we call the Lost Ones.”
“The Lost Ones?”
“Aye,” said the man called Lachann. “Kin born outside our lands, ones lost to us.”
Martyn nodded. “Our ancestors were nay verra good men. They raided villages and towns for miles about. They were called Nightriders. It wasnae until recently that we became aware of the fact that they left behind children, ones born of rape or seduction. First there was a man called Simon, then a lass and her wee brother running from the Hunters just as ye are, came to us.”
“Hunters,” she hissed, her fury at her tormentors rising up to choke her. “’Tis too fine a name for them.”
“Aye,” agreed Gybbon, “yet ’tis what they do. They hunt down MacNachtons.”
“I am a Boyd. Alice Boyd.”
“Ye hold MacNachton blood, lass. That makes ye one of us. As ye now ken, we have an enemy, one that wishes to see every MacNachton dead.”
“Because we are demons, cursed and damned.”
“Nay, we are but different.” He ignored the soft, derisive noise she made. “We can talk of this later. Tell me why ye faced these men, why ye didnae use the gifts I ken ye have to just run and hide.”
Gifts? Alice nearly laughed but knew her bitterness would make it a harsh, unpleasant noise. Her family had not been slaughtered because she had gifts. She had not been beaten and raped because she had some God-blessed gift. It was fear of the darkness in her that caused such tragedy. If she had gifts she would not be filthy, ragged, hungry, and huddling in caves.
Quickly looking over the three men again, she frowned. They were clean, well dressed, and did not look hungry at all. Yet they knew what she was and, after seeing their fangs, she could not dispute their claim that they were like her. Did they have some safe haven or had they escaped true suffering because they were strong, well-armed men who had banded together?
She thought over their talk of Lost Ones, of children bred by
their ancestors and deserted, or ignored because the men never considered the possibility that their widely cast seed had taken root somewhere. Her mother had once told her that, years ago, Grandmere had taken a lover, a dark man who had visited her only at night. Her mother had been the result of that union and had said that she was certain that was where the darkness inside of them had come from. Once her grandmother had spoken of that lover, calling him her dark knight, her sinful Nightrider. Everything these men told her matched what little she knew or could remember. Alice was not sure that meant she should trust them, however. She had too much to protect to trust too easily.
And yet, these men obviously knew how to stay safe, warm, and well fed. She desperately wanted to stop running, stop crouching in caves like a cornered animal. Neither could she ignore the fact that she was changing, was becoming more animal than woman. Alice also knew that all she had done, all she could do, was not enough to gain what these men had.
She was facing defeat and death and she knew it. She was not the only one, either. Once she was gone, the ones she fought so hard to save would be lost as well. Alice had to admit that she was also tired, so very tired, of carrying all that weight alone.
“Lass, we mean ye nay harm,” Gybbon said quietly, knowing that she was trying to decide if she could trust them or not. “Ye are nay alone, are ye. There is a child, aye? Let us help ye. Let us take ye to your people, to Cambrun. Ye will be safe there, far safer than ye are now. Ye and the child.”
“Ah, aye, my stinking spawn.” Alice felt his hand briefly clench and saw anger tighten his handsome face. Oddly, that sign of the anger he felt over the insult to her child helped decide her course. “I have to trust in what ye say. There is no other choice for me. If these bastards hunting me dinnae succeed, hunger, cold, and exhaustion will. So, I believe ye had best follow me.”
Gybbon released her and then found that he and his cousins had to move quickly to keep pace with her. She scrambled over rocks with ease despite her unshod feet and climbed the rocky hill with a speed and agility he and his cousins were hard-pressed to match. Either she had a natural skill or she had lived like this for a long time.
When she slipped into a crevice between two huge boulders, he followed. The soft curses from his cousins told Gybbon they were finding it as tight a squeeze as he was. He stopped inside a small cave and was about to complain a little when he looked toward the small fire in the center of the cave. The sight that met his eyes trapped his petty grumblings in his throat.
Chapter Two
Four pairs of eyes stared back at Gybbon. Even as his stunned mind struggled to accept the fact that Alice Boyd was protecting not just one child, but four, the largest of the children shifted just enough to place his too-thin body between the smaller children and the adults. Gybbon studied the boy who studied him, and judged the child to be nine or ten years of age. The MacNachton mark was strong on the boy.
Two small dark-haired girls huddled behind the boy. Gybbon did not even try to guess their ages but he doubted they were long out of infancy. One small boy kept trying to get next to the oldest child only to keep being gently shoved back. All four children looked as ragged, dirty, and feral as Alice. Gybbon doubted they were all her children, however, as she did not look to be more than twenty years old and only one had the look of her.
“Be at ease, Alyn,” Alice said as she moved to crouch at the oldest boy’s side.
“Ye brought the Hunters to us,” Alyn said, his tone of voice wavering between question and accusation.
“Nay, I would ne’er do so. E’en if ye cannae believe I would die to keep ye safe, can ye doubt that I would do so for Donn, my own son? Or for wee Jayne or Norma?”
Alyn bit his lip and shook his head. “Nay. But if they arenae our enemies, who are they?”
“MacNachtons,” replied Gybbon as he and his cousins cautiously moved closer. “We are like you, and the men hunting ye hunt us as weel. ’Tis our belief that ye all have some MacNachton blood.”
“I dinnae ken what blood runs in my veins, but ’tis a curse nay matter where it comes from,” said Alyn, a very adult bitterness tainting his words.
Gybbon sat and stared at the boy from across the small fire, his gaze never wavering even when his cousins sat down flanking him. “Aye, at times it does feel like a curse, holding us firm in the shadows and causing our innards to gnaw with a dark hunger. ’Tisnae the devil’s work, however, and we are nay demons. We are but a different people. Our ancestors reveled in those differences, acting with both arrogance and cruelty. My laird’s father put a final end to that long ago. What we ne’er kenned was that while our ancestors took whate’er they wanted or needed, they also left their seed behind. I would like to say they would have cared if they had kenned they had bred children, but I am nay sure they would have. I do believe, however, that it ne’er occurred to them that their seed would take root.”
“Any mon with wit kens that if ye scatter your seed about some of it will root and grow.”
There was such anger and pain behind Alyn’s words it made Gybbon’s heart ache. “Aye, so they should. Howbeit, MacNachton seed doesnae often take root. We have clung to our home, away from others—the ones we call the Outsiders—for a verra long time. We also bred within the clan far too often. One day the laird looked about and realized that in forty years, only one full MacNachton, what we call a Pureblood, had born a child and that the only other child born at Cambrun had come from a MacNachton and an Outsider. So, ye can see why it ne’er occurred to us that ones of MacNachton blood had been born outside of our lands.” He shrugged. “If ye cannae breed at home, why should ye be able to breed away from it, aye?”
“Your clan has no bairns?” asked Alice, suddenly understanding why the men had stared at the children as if they truly were gifts from God.
“There are more now, for our laird and my father both wed Outsiders. It was my laird’s plan. He himself is born of a MacNachton and an Outsider.” Gybbon briefly flashed his fangs. “Few Outsiders can tolerate what we are. Our laird hopes to slowly breed out what makes us so feared. Although we begin to think the best we can do is lessen the differences between ourselves and the Outsiders enough to more easily move among them.”
“Why would ye want to?” grumbled Alyn.
“To survive, Alyn,” Alice whispered, easily seeing the path the MacNachton laird was walking.
“Aye,” agreed Gybbon. “We may be stronger, fiercer, and all of that, but there are far more Outsiders than there are MacNachtons and there always will be.”
“Even if ye gather all the Lost Ones.”
The fact that she had seen that reason for their search told him she had a keen wit. “Ye could rightfully cry me a liar if I said that wasnae in our minds when we started searching for any with some MacNachton blood in their veins. It wasnae what truly started the search, however. There are many reasons.”
“We have time,” she said as she sat down beside Alyn and the small boy named Donn crawled up onto her lap.
“Nay, I dinnae think we do. Those men didnae flee home and I think ye ken it.”
Alice sighed. “Aye, I ken it, but they will halt and plot for a wee while. ’Tis their way. They have a wounded mon they need to tend to.” Or bury, she thought, and felt the pinch of horror and shame. She quickly shook that away. She was fighting for her life.
“Time that we should use to flee this place.” Gybbon looked at Martyn. “Can ye fetch the horses?”
“Aye.” Martyn stood and signaled Lachann to join him. “We will bring them closer, hide them, and fetch some supplies. I think it best if we eat ere we set out for Cambrun.”
Gybbon briefly glanced at the children and nodded. “Watch your backs.” As soon as his cousins slipped away, he said, “We will travel to Cambrun as soon as we have eaten. That is all the time I dare linger here. Ye can eat food, aye?”
“Aye,” replied Alice, wondering just which MacNachtons might not be able to and hoping it was not an added curse tha
t would come to her later in her life, “though that cursed hunger isnae silenced by it.”
“I ken it. It can be leashed, however. Can ye abide the sun?”
“A wee bit. Morning and dusk. Longer if the clouds are heavy. High noon, the heart of the day, is dangerous for all of us. And, ere ye ask, we all have those cursed fangs, all our senses are keener than most people’s, we move faster, heal faster, are stronger than most, and, if my grandmere wasnae lying about when my maman was born, dinnae age too quickly. My maman was two score and ten when she was butchered but she didnae look much older than I am now.” She smiled faintly when he just cocked one dark brow in question. “I am but two and twenty.”
“And this is your son?” he asked, nodding toward the boy seated in her lap.
“Aye, Donn is my son. He is four now and has kenned naught in his short life but running and hiding. It isnae the life I would choose for any child, but at least they all still live.”
“Your husband?”
Alice held his gaze with her own, hoping he could read in her face what she did not want to say in front of the children. “I have ne’er had one. Nay, nor a lover or a love.”
Gybbon could see the fury and grief in her eyes, eyes that appeared golden in the firelight, and knew what she did not say. Donn was a child conceived in violence and humiliation. He felt a fierce urge to find the man who had abused her and make him suffer. Gybbon told himself that was because he had always abhorred men who abused women, but a small voice in his head scoffed at his excuse. This dirty, ragged woman was having a very unsettling effect on him and he was not sure what that meant or might portend.
With their callous arrogance and willful indifference, this was the hell his ancestors had condemned their children to. Alice had said that her mother had been butchered. Gybbon did not have to ask to know why the woman had been killed. The MacNachton blood had come from the mother, had left her different in a world that treated any differences with a dangerous superstition. He did not want to think on just how many MacNachton kin had met similar fates, but it was a fact that was hard to ignore, especially when he was facing a woman and four children who had all suffered losses. It fed the urgency his clan felt, fed the strong need to collect up all the Lost Ones they could find as quickly as they could.
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