Nature of the Beast

by Hannah Howell

  “I apologize for scaring Efrica,” Berawald said.

  “I doubt ye frightened her. She but sensed that ye needed to speak with me about something of importance and that ye would probably prefer to do that alone. So, speak.”

  “I have guests.” Between sips of wine, Berawald told Jankyn about David and Evanna.

  Jankyn frowned in thought for several minutes after Berawald had finished his tale. “She heals quickly?”

  “Aye, verra quickly. It was a shallow cut on her side only in that it didnae go deep enough to damage her innards, but it was long and bled freely. Isnae a week too soon for an Outsider to recover from such a serious wound?”

  “’Tis completely healed?”

  “Aye, naught but a faintly reddened scar is left. The bruises and scratches she was covered with faded within two, three days.”

  “That is unusual. And for that someone cried her a demon or a witch?”

  “She claims the charge was born of that and having such red, red hair as well as having pale skin so delicate that it cannae bear being touched by the midday sun. Her brother is the same. Neither of them was troubled when I ate some barely seared meat and David e’en took some of it for himself and Evanna. I wondered if they might have some MacNachton blood.”

  “It seems verra possible to me. I shall see what I can find in all of the available papers. It also makes it more alarming that she is being hunted.”

  “Ye think that these men might be more than simple, superstitious villagers, aye?” Berawald had begun to suspect that they were, but he wanted someone to agree with him.

  “Again—verra possible. The ones who mean to eradicate us ken a lot about us, far more than I like. Each thing ye have told me about the Masseys would certainly be enough to stir up their dangerous suspicions.”

  “E’en though they are both redheaded, one with green eyes and one with blue?”

  “I am nay sure these men would realize the rarity of that. Or, and this is even more alarming, they ken weel that our kinsmen have spread their seed far and wide.”

  “’Tis what I fear,” Berawald murmured. “There is one other thing—I think they ken about the spirits.”

  “They see them, too?”

  Berawald nodded. “They havenae said anything but I am absolutely certain that they do. E’en more curious, ’tis as if they shield me from the spirits simply by being close to hand. In the week they have been with me, I have been little troubled by the spirits that seem to crowd this land, and the voices in my head have been almost completely silenced. ’Tis as if, by their verra presence in my home, they have strengthened the walls between the living and the dead. The moment I reached Cambrun, the spirits and the voices in my head were all back as if they had never left me.”

  “That is verra interesting, verra interesting indeed, and it must be verra pleasant for you.” Jankyn smiled faintly. “And this Evanna—she is beautiful with her red hair, green eyes, and delicate skin?” He laughed softly when Berawald blushed.

  “Aye, she is beautiful, and, aye, I ache for her. But she hasnae told me the truth, nay all of it.”

  “The truth comes hard for one who has learned the need to remain silent simply to stay alive. Who kens that better than we do, aye? She must also strive to keep her young brother safe. If she tells ye all, is she risking him as weel? That is what preys upon her mind and will continue to do so until she feels completely safe, or as safe as any of us can feel in this dangerous world. She might weel trust ye with her own life, but hesitates because her every action affects David as weel.”

  Sighing, Berawald dragged a hand through his hair. “I understand that. I do. But right now what I truly need to decide is what to do with them. I saw signs that men had been tracking along our borders, but cannae be sure if they are the same ones hunting her and David or enemies of our own.”

  “I will tell our laird when he returns and will see that the borders will be watched much more closely immediately, although we watch them verra closely now. Whether these men are the hunters who plague our clan or simply foolish, superstitious men hunting the Masseys, they are, in the end, a danger to us all. My instincts tell me that her hunters are of the same group of men as ours are. Ignorant, superstitious villagers wouldnae trail the Masseys for so long or so far. They would be weel content with the fact that the pair had left the village.”

  “That is what I thought. So, will ye let me ken if ye find any connection between the Masseys and the MacNachtons?” Berawald asked as he finished his wine and then stood up to leave.

  Jankyn stood up, moved to Berawald’s side, and lightly slapped him on the back. “I will. The search would go much faster, though, if ye could gather a wee bit more information for me. Her mother’s name, where they have lived, grandparents’ names, and such as that. Since ye said that she told ye the gift of healing quickly had come from her mother that would imply that the mother was the carrier of the MacNachton blood and thus the name Massey may do me little good.”

  “Ah, of course. I hadnae considered that.”

  “Talk to the boy if ye can. It sounds as if he has full trust in ye and will speak more freely. He is too young to fret o’er everything he says or be weighted down with fear that any secret he may let slip could hurt his sister. And, Berawald?” Jankyn asked as Berawald opened the door to leave.

  Pausing in the doorway, Berawald looked back at Jankyn. “What?”

  “If ye want the lass so badly, then take her.”

  “She may nay want me,” Berawald said, voicing aloud the fear that had lodged itself so firmly in his heart. “Nay when she learns the truth about me.”

  “It seems to me that her truths are verra similar. Ye havenae been so heated o’er a lass since, weel, for as long as I have kenned ye. That means something. Dinnae ignore it.”

  As he made his way home, Berawald considered Jankyn’s advice—all of it. If he could get no more information out of Evanna, then he would overcome his reluctance to take advantage of a child’s naïveté and get some out of David. He had taken them into his home and there was danger following them. He had a right to know all about them and what he might soon face in order to keep them safe.

  Jankyn’s advice to just take what he wanted, to just take Evanna, was a little harder to decide on. It was tempting and it filled his mind with some very heated ideas of just how he could do that, where he could do it, and how often he would. He was not sure he ought to give in to that temptation, however. He was the man who had saved her and her brother, had healed her, and was now protecting her. Somehow it did not seem right to take advantage of that. Even worse was the thought that, while he was caught up in an emotional turmoil and heart-pounding lust, she might just be feeling grateful. To reach for what he wanted only to discover that it did not really exist could leave him with a wound that might never heal.

  For a moment he stood at the mouth of his cave and considered that. That he would even feel such a fear confirmed his opinion that it was already a lot more than lust that made him want Evanna. She had been with him for a week but had only been awake for about four days of that time. They had talked, even played chess a few times, but he knew very little about her or her life before he had found her at the side of the burn. What he felt made no sense at all, but he could not deny that he felt it, deeply and fiercely.

  As he prepared himself to go inside and face her again, Berawald realized many of the spirits he had been seeing had faded away as had all the noise in his head as he had drawn close to his home. Here was proof that the Masseys had more than the gift of healing quickly from their wounds. For just a moment he savored the renewed silence. Berawald suspected that any spirits who had a true grievance, a real need to be heard, would still be able to reach him or he could reach out to them if he chose to, but this quiet was a gift he was loath to give up. Perhaps it was a sign that Evanna Massey was destined to be his, that she completed him, he thought as he entered his home.

  “Where is Berawald?” David asked.r />
  It took Evanna a moment to push aside her increasing despondency and smile at David. “I am nay sure, but he will nay doubt return soon. I could play chess with ye if ye want.”

  “It can wait.”

  Smothering the pinch of hurt and jealousy she suddenly felt, Evanna got out of bed. She was not accomplishing anything by lying there feeling sorry for herself. After donning the plaid Berawald had given her to act as her skirts, she began to walk around what she thought of as his great hall. Now that her stitches were out she could begin to wear her own clothes, although, sad to say, they were not as comfortable or as fine as the ones he had given her. Her strength had nearly returned in full and she tried to take some pleasure in that. The fact that it meant she and David could soon leave Berawald made that difficult, however. She knew she should leave, should no longer burden the man now that she was better, but she really did not want to go.

  And why should that be? she asked herself as she marched around the room, a humming David skipping along behind her. She really did not know the man, and despite her complete inexperience with men, she knew a strong lusting in a man often meant no more than that—a strong lusting. The heat in his gaze could be coming from just one part of his body, his mind and heart not being involved in it at all. Unlike her own, she thought with a grimace.

  “Did ye just hurt yourself?” David asked as he trotted along beside her. “Ye just made a face.”

  Slowing her pace a little to match his, Evanna shook her head. “Nay. I was just thinking.”

  “Oh. I like it here, dinnae ye?”

  Evanna suddenly realized that her brother had settled in for a long stay with Berawald and nearly cursed. “’Tis a cave, David.”

  “Aye. A really nice cave. I e’en have my own sleeping chamber. I like Berawald and he is teaching me chess.”

  She stopped, crouched down before her brother and grasped him by the shoulders. “David, m’love, this isnae our home. As soon as I am strong enough for traveling, we must leave here.” And take our troubles with us, she added silently.

  “Why? Berawald has a lot of room.”

  “But that doesnae mean he wishes to fill that room with a woman and child, ones who arenae e’en his kinsmen.”

  “I dinnae want to live on the streets and eat rats!” he wailed.

  “What are ye talking about? I ne’er said we would do that.”

  “We cannae go home e’en if we have one still. That means we dinnae have a home, and people without a home live on the streets of smelly, dirty towns and eat from midden heaps and eat rats and get all dirty and have fleas and I want to stay warm and dry and eat good food. We can stay. Berawald will keep us safe.”

  Evanna used the billowy sleeve of the shirt she wore to dab at the tears streaking David’s angelic face. “We cannae ask that of him. The mon saved us, healed my wounds, and has sheltered us for a week. It wouldnae be fair, or right, to abuse that kindness by lingering here and putting his life at risk. I certainly dinnae want to see him get hurt. Do ye?”

  Berawald lurked in the deep shadows of the entry passage and shamelessly eavesdropped. He had to beat down the urge to rush over to the weeping David and assure the child that he would not be left to starve in the streets. The craving he felt to hold fast to Evanna and her brother was growing stronger by the hour. What Evanna told the boy about not wanting to see him hurt eased some of his concerns. She might not have told him the truth about herself, but she was not intending to ensnare him in any way. Maybe Jankyn was right; he should just take what he wanted. The secrets and the troubles that stood between him and Evanna could be sorted out later, perhaps even in bed.

  “He would fight for us,” David protested, hiccoughing a little as he struggled to control his tears. “He is a good, brave mon.”

  “And ye think we should thank that good, brave mon for his help by leading killers to his door?” Evanna asked softly.

  “Nay,” David mumbled, “but we dinnae have anywhere to go. We dinnae have Da to find us a new home, either.”

  When her brother began to cry again, Evanna sat down on the floor and pulled him onto her lap. She struggled to control her own urge to weep. Her father had been a good and loving man, even though he had lost a lot of his thirst for life when their mother had been killed. He had never harmed a soul or committed even the smallest of crimes, yet those men had cut him down on his own threshold, calling him a demon. Her father’s last act in life had been to give it up to save her and David. The fact that she could not even give him a burial worthy of such a sacrifice would always grieve her.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Evanna looked up at Berawald and slowly shook her head. “Nay, ’tis but a moment of grieving for our father.”

  Before she had even finished speaking, David had torn himself from her grasp and thrown himself against Berawald, wrapping his thin arms around the man’s waist. Evanna stood up, ignoring the fierce need to do the same, and turned her thoughts to David. Her brother was becoming dangerously attached to Berawald and that would make it all the harder to leave. She hated to bring the little boy even more grief, but they could not stay here much longer. Not only had they not been asked to stay, but it was wrong to bring a man, one who had shown them nothing but kindness, into their troubles.

  “I miss my fither,” David said, his face pressed against Berawald’s taut stomach. “I miss him a lot.”

  Berawald eased the boy’s tight grip and then crouched down so that he could look him in the eye. “Of course ye do. Ye didnae e’en have time to say fareweel, did ye?”

  David shook his head. “And now I have to go live in the streets and pick through midden heaps and eat rats.”

  “David,” Evanna began, not wanting the boy to try and wheedle any promises out of Berawald.

  “Nay, ye willnae have to do that,” Berawald said, cutting off the scolding he could see Evanna wanting to give the boy.

  “But we havenae got a home now,” David said.

  “Ye will have a home.”

  “Berawald, ye must nay promise such things,” Evanna protested even as her heart leapt with the hope that the home he offered would be with him.

  “I must and I can,” he said in a voice that broached no argument. “Nay matter what else happens, I will ensure that ye have a home, David. A safe home. One with a big cat to eat any rats that venture too close to your door,” he added with a smile, and was pleased to see the tearful smile that curved David’s mouth. “Now, shall we play a game of chess ere we eat and ye have to seek your bed?”

  Evanna watched Berawald and David move to the table where the chessboard was set up. The look in Berawald’s dark eyes when he had made his promise had stolen her breath away. He meant every word of it. The way he had glanced at her, including her in that promise, had made her heart leap about in her chest like a wild thing.

  Careful, lass, a voice in her head warned her. He had not said it would be his home he offered them. Holding on to that warning to control a giddy hope she could not fully tamp down, Evanna moved toward the fire. Cooking always calmed her and she definitely needed calming now. The very last thing she wished to do was reveal her growing feelings for him when he had yet to give her any real hint that he might, someday, return them.

  Five

  “Where is David?”

  Berawald looked up from the ledgers he had been blindly staring at for far too long and blinked away the blurriness in his eyes. Evanna stood by his chair, her small hands clenched so tightly in front of her that her knuckles shone bone white. She had been quiet, a little nervous, and somewhat evasive in the two days since he had kissed her, but he had been unable to think of what to do or say to break this new awkwardness between them. Now, however, she just looked worried, very worried.

  “He went to the burn to try to catch us some fish for dinner,” Berawald replied, and watched as her worry rapidly turned to alarm.

  “It isnae safe for him to be out alone.”

  “Be at ease, Evanna
. I check for signs of strangers and threats each and every night, and no one has drawn near.” He decided it would be a very bad time to tell her that there was a good possibility her enemies were lurking at the borders of his land. They were still too far away to pose any immediate threat, but he suspected she was not in the mood to accept any assurances about that.

  Evanna tried to calm her fears but was not very successful. It had been quiet around the cave and Berawald did diligently go out and check for signs of her enemies every night, but that knowledge did nothing to make her fears about David ease. Everything inside her was demanding that she find David immediately and drag him back to the safety of Berawald’s unusual home. She did not have the sight but she had learned long ago to trust in her instincts. Those instincts had kept her and David alive as they had fled from their enemies. She could not ignore them now. Nor could she ignore the ghostly apparition of a young woman standing near the passage out of the cave who kept jabbing her finger in the direction of the burn, although she would not mention that to Berawald. He did not seem to notice all the spirits that wafted through his home.

  “I ken it,” she said. “I ken that all ye say is the truth. Howbeit, I feel a true need to find David and see for myself that he isnae in any danger.” When she saw how closely he was studying her, she gave him a trembling smile. She hoped he had not seen her glance toward where the ghost floated, still jabbing her finger and now stomping one wispy foot in impatience. “Nay, I dinnae have the sight, if that is what ye are thinking. I dinnae ken what ye would call it, but something inside me demands that I find David. Now.” And the ghost at your doorway looks as if she wishes she had body enough to come and kick me into motion, she added silently.

  Berawald chanced a brief glance in the direction Evanna kept peeking and tensed. A spirit stood there, and if her finger pointing and foot stomping were any indication, Evanna’s instincts were being strengthened by that spirit. He attempted to open his mind to the spirit and nearly jumped to his feet when a loud Go now! Get the laddie! pounded in his head. Even though he was sure Evanna and David could see the spirits, they still had not told him so and now was not the time to discuss the matter.