Veiled Threat (16 page)

The two demons came to a halt less than a foot from the hole and their gaunt faces peered at it. The one on the left gave a guttural laugh and threw an indecipherable comment at the leader. Then he stretched out one hand.

Nothing happened. He wiggled his fingers, reached an inch further then shuffled forward a few inches. It seemed as if all of us were holding our breath – Byron, me and all the demons included. The leader shouted another command and the other demon slowly nodded before raising his own hand. A streak of what looked like lightning zapped across, flickering several feet through the air and missing Byron and me by centimetres.

Mutterings rose from the assembled Fomori demons. The one Gifted with lightning lifted a leg, paused as if he couldn’t decide whether to move or not, then straightened his shoulders and strode forward abruptly, past where the border should have been. I didn’t mistake the look of relief that crossed his expression. He turned round and gave a wide-mouthed, toothy grin that would send anyone scurrying underneath their bed in fear. The monsters were real.

The leader marched up and joined him. He also smiled, although he conveyed more grim satisfaction than his minion. He bent down by the hole where the Adair flagpole had once stood and rummaged around, pulling out a misshapen, cracked and dirty troll skull. He threw back his head and laughed, a cackling sound which made Byron’s hand tighten round mine. The demon hawked and spat and a greenish ball of phlegm landing on top of the other bones. A dribble of spittle remained on his lips before slowly making its way down his narrow chin. He threw the skull to one side as if it was nothing more than a piece of rubbish.

‘Ach mag ne tre!’

The other demons visibly relaxed. The one crouching down by my tracks stood up and used his index finger to slice a line across his throat. ‘Adair!’

I stiffened. The demons, however, found this hilarious and laughed uproariously. A particularly ugly one with limp straggly hair hanging down from one side of his head, pointed towards the mansion. ‘Vas?’

The leader spat again and shook his head. He straightened his shoulders and looked in the direction of the Veil. ‘Hame.’

The Fomori demons bellowed and thumped their chests. They returned to their formation, wheeled round and marched back off again. They were leaving. Praise be.

I unclenched my jaw, realising how tight it was. My shoulders dropped and I remembered to breathe. Now that the demons were striding away, the air was sweet and fresh again.

‘Aifric is working with them,’ I half-whispered to myself. ‘But he couldn’t have sent them here. They’re leaving because they think all the Adairs are dead and the land here is still abandoned and empty.’

Byron dropped my hand like it burned him. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? My father is not working with them at all. It’s yet more proof that everything you believe about him is nothing more than a figment of your imagination.’

I moved away. ‘The first time I used an elevator,’ I said softly, ‘it was really uplifting but in the end it just let me down. When you find out the truth about him, Byron, I really hope you’re not too disappointed. He’s no hero.’

I watched the Fomori demons disappear round the bend in the road and turned to go back and find the others. I couldn’t cope with another argument with Byron on the subject of his father. Not now.

D
espite my fervent hope that the demons had only been checking out the Adair Lands and were unlikely to return, our group’s mood remained sombre. Even Bob seemed to have developed a nervous tic; his left eyebrow jerked to a fearful rhythm for what seemed like hours. Sorley was tense, barking orders and commands at everyone as he worked to bring the border back to life. When it crackled into action so many years after it had been extinguished, he still didn’t relax. He directed Taylor, Speck, Brochan and Lexie to remain on guard as the sun began to dip. Not one of them pulled a face or argued.

Sorley, Lyle and Kirk marched slowly up from the border with the bones of the long-dead trolls placed carefully on an old wagon which Brochan had unearthed. Their ceremonial solemnity would have been comical if the situation were not so tragic. I went on the hunt for Tipsania. I could have asked Byron for help; he didn’t seem to be doing anything more than standing by the old tree where we’d almost shagged each other’s brains out and glowering. It was testament to how awkward I felt around him that I preferred to speak to bloody Tipsania rather than to him.

I found her in the old kitchen, an expression of disgust pasted on her face. ‘This place is filthy.’

‘What do you expect?’ I asked mildly. ‘It’s not been cleaned for a generation.’

She flung up her arms as if to convey how ridiculous she thought my comment was. It was difficult not to smirk when her fingers inadvertently caught in a long cobweb hanging from the ceiling and she let out a tiny screech of repulsion.

‘I have a question,’ I interjected quickly, hoping to forestall any further histrionics.

‘What?’ she snapped, wiping her hands vigorously on her dress. I decided against pointing out that now she had a snail-trail of cobweb dangling down her thigh.

‘The trolls are bringing up the bodies of the guards who were killed here back when—’

‘When your father murdered everyone?’

I kept my tone as even as possible. ‘He didn’t. He was framed.’

‘Right,’ she scoffed.

I drew in a deep breath. ‘Anyway, I’m going to bury them up where the Adair grove used to be. I don’t know much about the customs of those places though, or what’s expected when the ceremony takes place. I thought you might be able to tell me.’

She lifted her eyes to me slowly. ‘You’re going to do what?’ Her voice rose into a high-pitched tone of disbelief.

‘I’m going to bury the remains of the trolls in the grove,’ I repeated, reminding myself that patience was a virtue.

‘I thought that was what you said,’ she muttered. ‘I just didn’t believe it.’ She shook her head. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

I crossed my arms and stared at her. She threw her arms up, again catching them on the cobwebs. This time, however, she didn’t react to their touch. ‘Clan groves are for the Sidhe. They are sacred places which cannot be defiled.’

Defiled? Good grief. Had she even looked around this place? ‘I don’t see how burying people who belonged to the Clan in the Clan ground can be an issue,’ I said stiffly.

‘They’re not Sidhe!’

I shook my head. ‘So?’

‘Nobody does that! Nobody allows non-Sidhe bodies to be buried in their groves! Not even the MacQuarries are that insane.’

My eyes narrowed. ‘Leave off the MacQuarries. And the trolls will be buried there, no matter what you say.’

‘You can’t do it.’

I gave her an icy glare. ‘I can and I will. You are forgetting yourself.’ I drew myself up. ‘I am the Adair Chieftain and you are a guest on
my
Lands. I didn’t invite you, but here you are. I suggest you keep a civil tongue.’ I was starting to sound like I’d been educated at Eton; Tipsania was rubbing off on me – and not in a good way. It seemed to do the trick, though. She paled slightly and dropped her gaze.

‘I apologise.’

I blinked in astonishment. I’d never heard Tipsania apologise for anything. ‘Well, then.’ I scratched my neck. ‘Okay.’

She sighed. ‘It’s not a good idea. Regardless of what these Lands are like, the grove is still a sacred place. To place the remains of someone who’s not Sidhe there could cause all manner of problems. The magic—’

‘Screw the magic.’ I had utter respect for the Foinse but she was talking about the same magic that had allowed me to steal her own essence. Besides, I was going to do this; I’d promised.

She sucked in a breath but she didn’t protest any further. That was something. I shrugged. I’d never understand these Sidhe, no matter how hard I tried. I would do this without any help. I’d just make it up as I went along. How hard could a little re-burial be?

By the time I ventured back outside, Sorley and his little cortège had arrived. I fell in behind the wagon and dropped my head. As the sky continued to darken, we made our way slowly towards the solitary tree.

There was probably a particular spot that was designated for burials but, with almost the entire grove destroyed, I couldn’t imagine where that would be. I pointedly ignored Byron’s curious gaze and took the rusting shovel which Sorley was holding out. He couldn’t look me in the eye and I suddenly understood that he was expecting me to change my mind and tell him that his kin couldn’t be buried here after all. I gave him a reassuring pat, noting the wide-eyed stares from Lyle and Kirk, and eyed the ground. In front of the tree seemed as good a spot as any.

I walked over and started to dig. Unfortunately, the ground up here was so cold and hard that it took some time before I made any headway. My hands were clumsy and the watching audience of the three trolls and Byron did nothing to ease my embarrassment. After I’d made several attempts, which succeeded in making little more than a dent, Byron stepped forward but I threw him such an angry glare that he backed down. His expression was astonished at my actions but I registered a glimmer of approval as well. I told myself firmly that I didn’t care and continued to dig. The only saving grace was that once I got through the top soil, it seemed to get easier. It was bloody back-breaking work, though, and my hair was soon plastered to my forehead with sweat despite the freezing air.

Once the hole was big enough, I turned to Sorley and raised my eyebrows. He nodded and walked to the wagon, carefully lifting the first few bones before passing them to me. I struggled not to recoil at their coldness. My fingers already felt stiff and frozen from gripping the shovel and I willed them not to fumble as I placed the bones gently into the ground. Lyle – or maybe it was Kirk ‒ gasped audibly before mumbling ‘sorry’ for breaking the silence. One by one, I took the shattered remains of those brave trolls who’d stood at my Clan’s defence and added them to the others. Once they were all there, I faced Sorley.

‘As Chieftain of the Adair Clan,’ I intoned, feeling horribly like a fraud, ‘I commit these souls to the ground. There is no doubt that they died as heroes and the memory of their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. They were as much a part of Clan Adair as my father was.’ I bit my lip. What had happened to his body and my mother’s was a complete mystery. Still, I couldn’t explain how I knew it but I was sure that he would approve of this action. ‘Ashes to ashes,’ I continued. ‘Dust to dust.’ Was there supposed to be something else? Shite. I was awful at this.

I pressed my lips together, guilt rippling through me because I was doing the trolls a great disservice by not being more eloquent. But it was the sight of the tears brimming at the edge of Sorley’s eyes that almost proved my undoing. I cleared my throat awkwardly, hastily picked up the shovel again and filled in the hole.

‘When spring comes,’ I said, ‘we’ll plant a tree here. You are welcome to visit any time, as are all of your kin.’

The three trolls nodded solemnly, exchanged glances and turned abruptly, marching back towards the mansion as slowly as they’d come. The soft murmur of their voices reached my ears.

‘That was unorthodox,’ Byron commented.

I tossed back my hair. ‘I suppose you’re like Tipsania and you think it was sacrilege to bury them here.’

His expression didn’t flicker. ‘Actually, no,’ he answered quietly. ‘That was a good thing you did.’ He gazed after the trolls thoughtfully and rubbed his chin. Then his eyes dropped to the spot where we’d been the night before, heat rising up in their emerald depths. I swallowed.

For the sake of something to do rather than think about Byron, I moved over to check on the tree. Where there had once only been a bud, now the entire branch was coming to life. Tiny leaves were sprouting; they were still tightly furled but they gave a hint of what was to come. I smiled then twisted on my heel and left, hugging myself to guard against the encroaching cold. Byron remained where he was, although I could feel his eyes boring into my back. I injected just the tiniest extra swing to my hips, damning myself for it at the same time as I hoped he noticed. I was a lost cause.

It didn’t take me long to catch up with Sorley, Lyle and Kirk. They were clearly on a mission to go straight back to the border, but they didn’t appear displeased to see me.

‘The others will hold the fort for a while yet,’ I told them. ‘Why don’t we get that fire started again and I’ll make you a cup of tea? The ceremony can’t have been easy on you and you deserve a bit of a breather.’

‘It’s our job to guard the border,’ Sorley demurred. I frowned at his use of the pronoun. Our? He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Besides, we have more important matters to discuss.’

His tone was brusque and business-like but something about it set me on edge. ‘What?’ I asked, warily.

Lyle coughed. ‘We will spread the word about what you have done for us, Chieftain. Every troll in the Highlands will know.’

‘Uh ... thanks, Lyle. I didn’t do much, though.’

‘It’s Kirk.’

I flinched. ‘Sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said earnestly, blinking up at me from beneath his heavy forehead. ‘No other Sidhe would have done that for us. You care. You treated the dead as if they were your own family and we will never forget that.’ The emphasis he placed on the word ‘we’ sent shivers down my spine; he seemed to speaking for far more than the three trolls next to me.

Sorley looked over his shoulder again. He was definitely skittish about Byron but I wasn’t sure why ‒ unless he knew something about what Aifric was planning. ‘Sorley,’ I began, testing the waters.

‘He’s going to poison you!’ he burst out.

My stomach dropped. ‘Pardon?’

‘It’s true,’ Kirk said. ‘We know what he’s carrying.’

I could feel my pulse speeding up. ‘We’re talking about Byron here? Not Aifric?’ I searched Sorley’s face, attempting to quell my sudden anxiety.

Sorley stiffened dramatically, whipping his head from side to side. ‘Aifric Moncrieffe is here? Where? I’ll lance his head like a boil! I’ll cut off his cock and—’