Caledonia Fae 03 - Enemy of the Fae (13 page)

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Things started to change after I read your signature. I recognised your intent, and I asked Ríona to show me the rune for passion. When we worked on it together, I realised I could read some. I guess that gave me the confidence to tell them they were connecting the wrong rune with the word
druid
. One of the keepers asked me to try to write the correct one. This is what I made.”

“This is
druid
?” Eilidh held her breath as she contemplated. She breathed out. “The druids are
draoidh
. Of course.” She thought she might burst into tears, and the realisation brought her up short.

“What’s the matter?” Munro said, touching her arm tenderly.

She handed the rune stone back to him. “The power in the talisman is affecting me deeply,” she said. As soon as he took the shale from her, she felt more in control. “Quinton, I must apologise.”

“For what?” he asked, looking and feeling genuinely confused. “Is something wrong?”

“Our people have treated yours so badly, almost like vermin.”

“Nah, most faeries are fine, once they get to know us,” Munro replied.

She refused to argue, even though she knew he was holding back. Confessing the true beliefs most fae held about humans would shame her too much. She shook her head and repeated, “You are draoidh, sorcerers, in your language. Do you realise what this means?”

“Not really. The keepers are freaked out though. They didn’t want me to tell anyone.”

Eilidh didn’t understand what
freaked out
meant, despite her decades living in the human realm, but she could imagine the keepers’ reactions. “The draoidh were the most powerful among the fae in ancient times, almost legendary. They built the foundations of our most sacred traditions, created new magic. They were more powerful than any royal.” What Munro learned might change a significant understanding of fae history.

He put down the talisman and removed the rest of his clothing as he talked. “We found an interesting story about an artefact some draoidh made together. I’d like to study it more, but I wanted to tell you what I’d learned first.”

“I’m glad you did,” she said, and was instantly overcome with guilt that the first thing she thought was to discuss the discovery with Griogair. How would she balance these two powerful and important men? If what her druid believed about the draoidh was true, he might soon eclipse them with his power. The demands made of him by all the kingdoms, not just Caledonia, might become great.

She needed the druids to remain under Caledonian rule. What might she offer them, beyond the guest-rights they now enjoyed? Would elevating them strengthen or destabilise her position? Perhaps she could cede them their own territory within her kingdom. She needed to speak to learned men, scholars, but none associated with the keepers. This information must not spread beyond Caledonia. She had to hope the keepers wouldn’t want this tale coming out yet either, but she had no influence or control over them.

Her whirring thoughts stopped abruptly when she felt Munro’s lips press against hers. “There will be time for plans at nightfall,” he said. “You faeries are fond of saying the night is for work and study, but the days are for rest and play.”

Eilidh smiled, trying to push aside the buzzing thoughts. “You’re right,” she said, returning his kisses. “We do say that.”

“Let me worship you, my queen,” he whispered in her ear, taking her lobe into his mouth. A shiver went down her spine, and she melted into his embrace. Her troubles and worries wouldn’t go far, but she needed the respite. She made love to her druid, as she had many days before, but today a thrill rippled through her. He was
draoidh
. She didn’t know if something had unlocked within him, or if she only imagined the new powers surging in his blood as they joined.

Rory sat at the bar and stared into his tall, thin glass of Coke, wishing his magic didn’t keep him from drinking beer. Flùranach insisted on going places with large crowds. During the day, that would mean the main shopping area with its tourist traffic, restaurants, and businesses. But this late at night, especially when the winds off the sea were bitterly cold, people flocked to pubs and nightclubs.

The hour crept toward 1 AM, when the Aberdeen pub would close. Rory had no idea what night it was, except it must have been a weekend. Otherwise the place would have shut at midnight.

When Rory and Flùranach left the Otherworld, they didn’t run into any resistance from Watchers. The human druids had permission to come and go, and Flúranach’s looking like an adult had some benefits. No one recognised her as the eight year-old granddaughter of a conclave leader. Once in the human realm, she used her astral talents to cast a light illusion over them both. Rory still looked human, but his flawless ivory skin, eyes that shone at night, and slightly pointed ears would stand out in a crowd.

Rory thought Flùranach would cling to him, uncertain what to do. He planned to take her to a couple of pubs but keep her at arm’s length from the other patrons as best he could. She put a damper on his strategy right away. Gone was the sweet, shy little girl of a few weeks ago. Even though the illusion hid her spiralling ears, gave a more human colour to her eyes, and added flaws to her pale skin, she looked too bloody good to be real.

Loud music thumped, drowning out conversation. One guy after another came up and asked her to dance, seeming not even to notice she was with someone. Rory couldn’t help but suspect she used astral magic to draw them in. Rory had encountered some cheeky blokes in his time, but he’d never seen them literally queuing up to talk to a woman, no matter how good looking.

The Coke tasted bitter and artificial after months of little besides the freshest Otherworld honeyed froth, berry juices, and water sparkling from magic rather than carbon dioxide. Rory pushed his drink aside and watched Flùranach wriggling on the dance floor, having the time of her life. The whole scene made him sick. His gut reacted as though sleazy guys were hitting on his wee sister. Her rhythmic gyrations grabbed everyone’s attention.

He wanted to drag her out by her ear. Confusion twisted him up inside. On one hand, he thought of her like family. On the other hand, seeing her as she was now, his mind teemed with images that shamed him to his core. It made him think he should go to confession, something he hadn’t done in a long time. He wondered if Father Ranison would have more problems with Rory being a druid or having carnal lust for a girl off-limits for so many reasons. First strike against him was her real age, not that he understood what to call real.
What a fucking tangle
, he thought.

She danced with four of them at once, rubbing her hands down her body and twirling in slow, seductive circles. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. Enough was enough. He made his way toward her and took her by the arm. “We’re leaving,” he said.

She turned and met his eyes. The light in her presence dimmed, and he realised she’d been muddling the minds around her. The men she’d danced with slowed down and avoided each other awkwardly, as though trying to remember why they’d been doing what they had.

Flùranach yanked her arm away. “I don’t want to go,” she said. “I want to dance.”

He took her hand roughly and pulled her from the dance floor and out to the street. Suddenly, nobody paid them any attention, and the crisp air cleared his head. “What the fuck were you doing in there?” Anger boiled in his chest. “I should take you over my knee and smack some sense into your backside.”

“Dancing,” she said with a flutter of her eyelashes. She raised her arms and turned in a writhing circle. “I like the way humans dance. I’m tingly all over.”

Rory blushed in the darkness. “Dammit, Flùr. You’re supposed to be looking for druids, not wiggling your arse about. You’re eight years old, for fuck’s sake.” He said the words aloud to remind himself as much as to scold her. Watching her was making it hard to supress those thoughts. She looked so adult.

Her smile faded, and she stared at him hard. Suddenly she looked haunted and angry. “You have no idea what I am.” Her voice echoed in his head, and her eyes darkened into black pools. “I don’t remember what it feels like to be young.”

Bloody hell.
He needed to get her back to Caledonia now. “Come on, Flùr. You promised. We came and looked, but we should go home.”

“Rory, please,” she said, sounding like herself again. “I can’t return empty-handed.”

“We can go back now, and they won’t even realise we were gone. We’ll slip through the gates. Everything will be okay. If we stay much longer, it’ll be a much bigger deal.”

“Let’s stay the night,” she said. Something in her tone tugged at Rory. Deep in his soul, he knew she was manipulating him, but he didn’t have any way to fight it, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to. “Don’t worry,” she said, stroking his arm and leaning in close. Her dark red lips looked delicious against her pale skin. The voices telling him it would be wrong to want her grew more distant with every passing moment.

People started to filter out of the pub. Closing time had come, and the mostly male group laughed and joked with each other as they made their way into the street. They seemed none the worse for their contact with Flùranach. No one noticed her now, which appeased Rory’s temper for some reason.

“Okay,” he said finally.

Flùranach beamed and kissed Rory softly on the cheek, a sweet, shy kiss with a hint of come-hither, a reflection of the child she had been and the seductress she became. He wondered how many facets her evolving personality would reveal. “Where do we go next?” she asked.

“Nothing will be open now,” he said. “Everyone is heading home.” He glanced up and down the street as things grew quiet. “We’ll have to get a room. Rest until morning. The humans will be more active after the sun rises. We might find better luck then, if you can stay awake during the day.”

She smiled, and it made him feel ridiculously happy. “Thank you,” she said.

None of the druids had human jobs anymore, so he had a limited supply of cash. At least he still had an active credit card. Munro told them all they should keep bank accounts, and they used the address of a faerie house on the Isle of Skye for their mail. Now Rory was grateful of Munro’s caution. Rory had been ready to cut himself off completely from the human world, but Munro said they never knew what they might need someday. He’d even started talking about alternate identities for the far future. If they bonded a faerie, they’d live hundreds of years, so somebody might notice if accounts stayed open so long.

Rory and Flùranach walked to a chain hotel a short distance down to the centre of Aberdeen, an anonymous place accustomed to midnight check-ins. He didn’t like the look the reception clerk gave Flùranach but decided not to make an issue of it. He paid extra for a room with two beds, partly so she would realise he didn’t plan to take advantage, and partly so he might be less tempted to try.

When they arrived at the room, he showed her the facilities. She’d grown up on the Isle of Skye, so she understood flushing toilets and electric lights, but she’d never slept on a mattress with springs. She bounced on the bed, laughing and giggling, but stopped when Rory refused to join in. He was too taken with the sight of her to know what to say, and he hated himself for the way his mind spun in circles.

“Are you very angry with me?” she asked, letting the illusion of her human appearance drop. The seductive way her spiralling ears curled before his eyes made his heart thump.

“No,” he said. “I’m just tired.” It was mostly a lie. True, he had grown accustomed to the nocturnal habits of the fae but was looking forward to sleeping in a proper bed. He wanted to take a shower but didn’t feel comfortable with either of them getting naked. That couldn’t lead anywhere good. “We should rest until dawn, then we can get breakfast and walk by the shops and the businesses in the city centre. There should be more people around.”

“Okay,” she said. Her hair was dishevelled from bouncing on the bed. She’d never looked more beautiful. “Will you lie with me?” She scooted over to make room on her double bed. “I’m not sure I can sleep with the stars overhead.”

Rory paused but held his resolve. “No,” he said gently. Taking off only his shoes, he lay on the bed and turned his back to her. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stay strong if she came to him in the darkness.

He heard her shuffling pillows and blankets, and eventually she settled in for the night on her own side of the room. Neither of them slept, but at least Rory could close his eyes and rest, believing he’d done the right thing.

Beyond telling Munro that the Watchers had discovered a blood trail leading back toward Canton Dreich, Eilidh refused to discuss the murder investigation with him. She gently insisted he not pursue it further. He understood, but he didn’t like it. If people learned the Watchers saw someone disguised as Munro near the cottage, his involvement would only make him appear suspicious.

He and Eilidh took their midnight meal together, an unusual occurrence because typically her advisors absorbed every moment of her night-time hours. The pair ate in a companionable silence, and Munro enjoyed the quiet feel of her presence. Eilidh had always been a passionate and skilled lover, but he noticed an intensity about her that afternoon he very much appreciated.

Their brief respite shattered when a steward padded in.

“I do not wish to be disturbed.” Annoyance flashed in Eilidh’s silver-green eyes.

“I offer a humble apology, Your Majesty. However, a message arrived from your consort, and the head steward commanded me to inform you immediately.” The young male faerie flicked his eyes toward Munro, then lowered them again. Six months, and the earth faeries still didn’t know what to make of a human dining alone with the queen. Most were friendly enough, especially the advisors and elders. The servants had the most issue with his lack of station because they didn’t seem to understand how they should treat him.

Eilidh tilted her head in subtle acknowledgement, and the steward placed a sealed parchment on the table beside her plate. “Shall I wait for your reply?”