Veiled Threat (10 page)

Aifric Moncrieffe, his face unlined and his step jauntier than I’d ever seen it, smiled into the distance. The other men beside him wore faded Moncrieffe colours. I didn’t recognise any of them but their expressions were grim and set. I realised my legs were shaking but I pulled back my shoulders and walked up to Aifric, passing a hand across his face. He didn’t blink. I reached forward to touch him.

‘Don’t,’ Bob called out.

I drew back. ‘What will happen if I do?’

‘I don’t know exactly but this is a wish. And you know there are consequences to wishing.’

It was the first time Bob had ever directly admitted that. Wisely, I did as he suggested and stepped to the side once more.

A couple walked up from behind the others. I held my breath. I had seen these two before in the grove at the Cruaich when I’d received my true name. My parents. I drank in the sight of them hungrily. My mother was petite and pretty, with an elfin delicateness about her features. The same couldn’t be said for her belly, however. It was massive, protruding like a taut drum. One hand rested protectively over it as she smiled warmly at Aifric. By her side my father was tall and muscular; the brilliant shock of white hair which I’d inherited was visible even through this opaque vision. There was a faint slump to his shoulders and a pained look on his face although he was smiling through it. My stomach tightened. Was this it? Was this a hint of the madness that everyone said had caused the destruction of my Clan? The vision I’d seen in the grove suggested otherwise and that was what I’d believed. There was always a tiny kernel of doubt, though. Always.

My father strode forward, embracing Aifric in a tight hug. They clapped each other on the back and their mouths moved as they spoke.

‘What are they saying?’ I burst out desperately. ‘Why can’t I hear them?’

‘I have no control over this, Uh Integrity,’ Bob said. ‘This is the wish. I can only promise that it will fulfil what you asked for.’

I balled up my fists and glared at the camaraderie between the two ghostly men. It took everything I had to keep my greedy eyes away from my parents and focus on Aifric. I had to see what he did. He was here. Despite the fatigued, sickly look on my father’s face, this had to be the moment when Aifric gave the order for slaughter. To believe otherwise might kill me.

I watched every twitch and every movement but Aifric didn’t do a damn thing. He kissed my mother’s hand and gestured at her stomach – at me – then simply left.

A choked sob escaped me. Taylor came up and put an arm round my shoulders, squeezing me tightly. ‘It has to be him, Taylor,’ I whispered. ‘It has to be Aifric.’ Aifric was already disappearing down the road, however, vanishing out of sight as it curved away.

I shook my head. My mother turned to Gale, my father, and touched his cheek, murmuring something. He put his arm round her waist, his tenderness making me catch my breath once more. She brushed her hand against her belly again and grinned at him in a way I recognised; there was an impishness that I had seen in myself in the mirror. My father returned her smile with an expression of fear, hope and joy.

He passed a hand across his forehead and nodded, then turned back inside. I followed immediately, barely aware of my friends behind me.

Gale left my mother in the courtyard and disappeared through a doorway to the left, trudging heavily up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located. As I watched, he walked into one, fell heavily onto a bed, turned onto his stomach and closed his eyes.

I screamed in frustration. ‘What are you doing? You have to realise what’s about to happen!’ He didn’t stir. Of course he didn’t stir. ‘It’s the middle of the fucking day. Why is he sleeping?’

‘He doesn’t look well, Tegs,’ Speck murmured. ‘Maybe he was sick.’

Brochan sighed. ‘He’s not sick. He’s hungover.’

I exhaled loudly. It made sense. His old buddy had spent the night and they’d probably been carousing until late. I could understand the action but I couldn’t condone it. Not knowing what I did.

‘He slept. He fucking slept while everyone was being murdered.’ Something stabbed at my heart and I spun round, pushing past the others to sprint back downstairs.

The courtyard was empty. Where had my mother gone? I ran left into the vast room with the gigantic fireplace, searching desperately. A group of Sidhe was clustered there, joking and laughing, while a servant tidied up a cluttered mess of whiskey bottles and glasses. My mother wasn’t there. I ran to the next room, then the next. By the time I reached what was once the dining hall, I was getting desperate. ‘Where is she, Bob? Where did she go?’

The genie fluttered up and placed one tiny palm on my cheek in a gesture he’d never made before. ‘Be patient. The wish will show you what you need.’

My mouth twisted in frustration. The wish wasn’t showing me a fucking thing. My father was comatose upstairs, my mother had vanished, and here were dozens of Adair Sidhe who I didn’t know filing in for their lunch break. This wasn’t what I needed to see.

‘Cheese freaking sandwiches?’ I yelled. ‘Who the hell cares?’ I watched a group of laughing women toss back cups of water poured from large flagons and gritted my teeth. ‘This is ridiculous!’

‘Look.’ Brochan said it quietly but there was an urgency in his voice that made my tantrum subside immediately.

‘What?’

‘The far end of the table. The woman.’

I followed his gaze. One of the older women, dressed in servant’s clothes, was turning purple and choking. Without thinking, I darted forward. Taylor grabbed my arm, pulled me back and reminded me that what we were watching had already happened. There was nothing I could do to change things.

Bit by bit, her companions started to notice. A burly warlock hauled her out of her seat and thumped her on the back. When that didn’t work, he wrapped his arms round her body to start what could only be the Heimlich manoeuvre. Even if he could have pulled if off, it wouldn’t have worked. As it was, he began having breathing difficulties. He released the woman, whose eyes had already rolled back into her head, and doubled over in agony.

Lexie pointed at the group of laughing women. They weren’t having fun now. Several of them had been sick, a pool of their vomit spreading across the long wooden table. At least one was already dead.

Watching this terrible scene unfold in total silence made its horror even more wrenching. These were my people ‒ and they were all dying.

‘It was poison,’ I said, turning away, unable to look any longer. ‘It wasn’t my father who killed them. It was poison.’

Taylor nodded grimly. ‘And we already know Aifric has form for that method of disposal.’

I tried to think clearly though it wasn’t easy. ‘It’s still circumstantial. There’s no actual proof that he did this.’

‘Who else could have?’

I didn’t have an answer. I wanted to feel relieved that it wasn’t my father who’d committed such a heinous act but, until I knew for sure who was culpable, I couldn’t relax.

My mother appeared in the doorway, right in front of my eyes. She was sweating and pale but there was a smile on her face. She was clutching her belly and obviously looking for help. Labour, I thought dully; she was in labour.

It was the expression on her face that made me start crying my own huge, silent tears. Her eyes darted round the dining hall, her smile slowly disappearing as first confusion, then horror followed quickly by terror filled her face. She ran forward, a few stumbling steps made all the more awkward by her size and condition. Then she seemed to think better of it; perhaps she realised there was nothing she could do. Maybe she wanted to get my father. To fetch help.

She spun round and ran out. We went after her. She fell into the courtyard, threw back her head and screamed, her mouth wide open.

A shadow flitted in the corner of my eye. Lexie cried out and so did I. But we couldn’t warn Coira Adair. She couldn’t see us. She saw the archer though, and turned to him just as he loosed the shot. His eyes were dull and pained as he melted away again but right now, it wasn’t him I cared about.

Whoever he was, his aim was true. The arrow struck my mother in the chest, embedding itself deep in her body. Without realising it, I clutched at the same spot on my chest. There was another flutter of movement as my father appeared, running towards her and scooping her into his arms. The anguish on his face filled the entire courtyard. He yanked open her simple peasant’s blouse, his fingers touching the arrow, pulling away and then touching it once more.

‘He can’t decide what to do,’ Speck said softly. ‘Should he pull it out or leave it in?’

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t capable of speech.

My mother wasn’t dead. She grabbed at my father, her lips moving. He shook his head and she tried again. He was crying but her eyes were clear as she told him what she wanted. She was a warrior right up till the end when her body jerked violently just once before going still.

I collapsed to my knees; I could barely see what was happening through my tears and I wiped furiously at my face. My father seemed frozen for a long moment, staring down at her as if willing her to wake up. Then he sprang up and ran to a bag hanging from a nail. He drew out a knife with a long sharp blade and went back to her.

I knew what he was going to do and the last thing I wanted was to see it but I had to. I owed both of them that much; they deserved that I bear witness to this terrible event. It was, after all, what I’d wished for.

Brochan knelt down beside me and took my left hand; Lexie did the same to my right. I felt both Taylor and Speck at my back and Bob on my shoulder. They were there with me. I wasn’t alone.

My father cut through my mother’s flesh, slicing through it as his own body shuddered in pain. There was blood everywhere. It seemed to take an age and I could sense him withdrawing into himself. There was just him and his gory task; nothing else remained. When he pulled out the tiny red baby, her face contorted and her umbilical cord still linking her to her mother, I felt as if I was being stabbed in the heart over and over again.

‘That’s you,’ Taylor said. ‘That’s actually you.’

Coldness descended across my shoulder blades. ‘And that’s Aifric Moncrieffe.’

The Steward strode through from the main entrance, his hands gripping a sword. My father didn’t even notice. Aifric sliced the sword through the air, once, twice, and then he smirked. A heartbeat later he plunged it into his old friend’s back.

My father spasmed and crumpled, falling as my baby self fell with him. Moncrieffe hands took me from him as Aifric stood over his failing body and grinned from ear to ear.

I stopped looking at my father’s killer; instead I focused on my father. ‘I’m with you,’ I mouthed.

He blinked slowly. He knew he was dying, it was there in his eyes and in the way his body relaxed. He didn’t fight death; it was almost as if he welcomed it. A world without Coira, his wife and my mother, wasn’t worth lingering in. I saw the light leave his face and his jaw slacken.

And then the ghostly vision disappeared and I was looking at the old dark patch and the few forlorn weeds still pushing up from the ground.

It took me a long time to move. At some point I was aware that my tears were drying and my heart was still beating. I got to my feet and slowly walked over to stand on the spot where my parents had breathed their last.

‘That’s how he did it,’ Speck said. ‘Aifric. That’s how he beat the magical border. He pretended to leave but didn’t. Probably killed whoever was guarding it and simply waited for the poison to do its job. Then he came back to mop up.’

‘It’s a miracle he didn’t kill Tegs too.’

‘She was a baby. An innocent baby.’

‘Everyone else in Clan Adair was innocent too,’ I said aloud. My voice rang out more steadily than I thought it would.

Lexie murmured something as I walked away. I loved my friends like family but right now I needed to be alone.

‘What about the consequences of the wish?’ I heard Speck ask.

‘You’re looking at them,’ Bob said. ‘The consequences of fulfilling the wish are already consequences enough.’

I kept walking.

I
sat under the tree for the rest of the day, watching both the real shadows and the imaginary ones. The others were sensible enough to leave me in peace. I’d like to say my thoughts were coherent but there was little other than pain. For now I didn’t plan or scheme or plot, I just let myself feel. I was entitled to that much.

The sun had fallen when Taylor eventually approached. His hands were in his pockets and he ambled slowly, giving me plenty of advance warning. When he reached me, I looked up. ‘You drew the short straw then?’

He gave a crooked smile. ‘I wanted to come.’ He held out his arms, ready to envelop me in a hug. There was no denying the anxious light in his eyes.

I shook my head and stood up. Enough wallowing; I was supposed to be a warrior, after all. ‘No. I’m good now.’ There was just the slightest tremor in my voice.

‘Integrity...’

‘I’m okay, Taylor.’

He searched my face, trying to ascertain the truth. Then he nodded and dropped his arms. ‘Good. The, um, troll. Surly?’

‘Sorley.’

‘Yeah, him. He’s causing some kind of ruckus. He’s not very ... happy.’

‘You mean he really is surly?’

Taylor’s smile grew, albeit tentatively. ‘Yeah. I’m not sure he’s going to fit in. He’s very stressed. About everything. What if he decides to go back to Chieftain MacBain and tells her about how pathetic our security is?’

‘Well,’ I said slowly, ‘we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it.’

Taylor looked at me. I looked back innocently.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘that joke doesn’t actually work. He’s not a bridge troll.’

I smiled. ‘You still got it though. Come on. I’d better go see what he wants.’

When we reached the courtyard, I dared myself to look at the dark patch for a moment. Pain lanced through me. I could feel Lexie, Speck and Brochan watching me anxiously. None of them said a word. Get a grip, Tegs.

‘I’m alright, guys,’ I said, when the silence became too uncomfortable.