Veiled Threat Read online

  Byron crossed his arms over his chest as his anger spiked once more. In fact, I had the distinct feeling that if I were just about anyone else the demon wouldn’t be the only charred corpse around here. His glare intensified but I was determined to stand my ground. ‘Why?’ he said in an undertone so low I almost had to strain to hear it. He drew himself even closer. Furious tension sparked between us as he dropped his head towards mine. ‘So you can accuse him of more wrongdoing? What if I told you that Taylor was a mass murderer?’

  ‘I wouldn’t believe you because he’s not,’ I said flatly. Byron gave me a pointed look and I sighed. I understood why he couldn’t grasp that his own father was a villain but sooner or later he’d realise I wasn’t lying or delusional. I might have been digging my own grave but my desperate need for Byron to see the truth wouldn’t let me stay quiet. I tried a different tack. ‘Aifric tried to kill me again this afternoon, Byron. Your beloved saint of a father wants me dead.’

  Something dark flitted across his face. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He hired an assassin. We were attacked on the road.’

  ‘Are you alright?’ he demanded. The icy anger in his eyes was turning to incandescent rage. Whoa. Back up there a second.

  ‘Obviously. But we got lucky.’ I shivered. ‘It could have been far, far worse.’

  He scanned my face, as if trying to glean the truth. His gaze dropped to my body, drifting down as if to check I really was alright before relaxing ever so slightly. Then, because our strange slow dance wasn’t apparently done yet, he stepped back towards me once more. Crowding me yet again. His actions were starting to seem very deliberate. ‘How do you know it was my father?’ he asked in a soft voice laced with steel. I opened my mouth then closed it again. Shite. Byron leaned in towards me. ‘Give me proof. Give me one tiny scrap of proof that my father, the Steward of the Highlands, wants you dead.’

  I had nothing and he knew it. ‘Logically—’ I began.

  ‘Logically, nothing. You’re full of shit, Integrity.’

  ‘I might be shit out of luck,’ I shot back, ‘but I don’t have shit for brains.’ I’d gone too far. I could see it in the tightening round his mouth and I wished I could take back my words. Shite. He dropped his arms while I lowered my voice and tried to get him to see reason. ‘Just think about it, Byron. Think about what I’ve said. It makes sense. I’m not lying.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ he said softly, ‘that you’re the one who’s concerned with the apparent sins of other people’s fathers.’

  ‘I don’t hate you for what he’s done, Byron.’

  He thrust his hands into his pockets and looked away. ‘He’s not done anything.’

  I clenched my jaw at Byron’s blinkered naivety. I wrapped my arms around my body for warmth, not for modesty. ‘Have you told him about what I can do? That I can ... take Sidhe Gifts?’

  ‘No.’

  Relief ran through me and my veins buzzed with magic. He was telling the truth. That was something at least. ‘Why not?’

  He sighed. ‘Because I know what will happen to you if I do.’ I opened my mouth but he held up a hand to forestall me. ‘Not because my father would see you hurt but because he would be hung, drawn and quartered for letting someone so potentially dangerous run around the Highlands.’

  Oh, please. ‘Aren’t you worried about that? About dangerous little me?’ I uncrossed my arms and revealed more of my bare skin.

  He ran a hand through his hair and avoided looking down. ‘Integrity, there are many things that worry me where you’re concerned.’ He raised his eyes heavenward and I wished I knew what he was thinking. ‘I have to go. I need to tell my father, the Steward, the person who ensures the safety of every soul in the Highlands, about what just happened.’ He pointed at the demon. ‘And you’re welcome for saving your life.’

  I glanced at the dead demon once again. ‘Oh, you’re a real hero.’

  He scowled. ‘Yeah. I am. And that’s because you’re still alive thanks to me.’

  ‘I was doing just fine without your help,’ I pointed out calmly.

  “You were about to be killed.’ He said the words flatly and without inflection.

  ‘Would that have really bothered you?’

  He growled something under his breath. ‘You know it would have. You know that despite what you’ve done, there’s something between us. I wanted to pretend there wasn’t but I can’t.’ Frustration twisted his features. ‘You have to admit it as well. You need me.’ To scratch a particular itch perhaps. Not for any other reason. Byron wasn’t finished though. He leaned back slightly and eyed me with a mixture of what I could only define as both distaste and desire. ‘Go and put on some bloody clothes. Why the hell are you naked anyway?’

  ‘I’m not naked.’

  ‘A couple of scraps of lace hardly count as clothing.’

  I pointed at my shoes. ‘Look. Trainers.’ Then I pointed at my bra. ‘Marks and Spencer’s finest.’

  He rolled his eyes. I thought he was going to leave but instead he shrugged off his jacket and put it round my shoulders. It was warm and snug and it smelled of him. Goddammit.

  ‘Take this,’ he said gruffly. His mouth twitched. ‘I’m a heroic gentleman after all.’

  We stared at each other. I rather thought he was waiting for me to yank the jacket off and throw it at him. Instead I turned up the collar as if pretending to be cool. His mouth twitched again.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. Why the hell did the villainous wanker of the world have to be his father?

  Byron’s fingers reached out and brushed away an invisible speck of dust from my shoulder as his expression softened.

  ‘Look after yourself, Integrity. Please stop with the silly accusations.’

  He jerked his head and two liveried Moncrieffe men appeared from out of nowhere. They paled at the sight of the demon but when Byron reached down and picked up its head, they swallowed their fear. One took the torso and the other the legs. Without another look at me, they walked off with their gruesome burden.

  ‘They’re not silly, Byron,’ I whispered sadly. I pulled his jacket closer and inhaled. Then I trudged back in the direction of the pub.

  Chapter Three

  By the time I got back I was in no mood for dancing, despite Chandra and Lexie’s assertions that it would ‘warm me up’. Images of the dead demon kept flitting through my head. I knew it was a Fomori demon but surely executing it in that fashion should have bothered Byron, at least slightly. I pinched the bridge of my nose. Yet another reason why we were wholly incompatible.

  I pulled on my clothes, downed a double whiskey, gagged when I remembered that I really didn’t like the stuff and wandered off to an upstairs room which Taylor had had the foresight to get hold of. If I’d thought worries about Fomori demons and assassins would stop me sleeping, I was very wrong. I was asleep so fast I barely remembered getting into bed.

  It was good to wake up surrounded by my half-comatose mates. I’d have time to get my head together before they emerged from their post-ceilidh fug. I didn’t plan on wasting any of it. Leaving them to their slumber, I went downstairs, inhaled a large mug of tea and pulled out my phone. It rang several times before being answered.

  ‘Yeah,’ muttered Angus’s sleep-fogged voice.

  ‘Hi!’ I said chirpily. ‘It’s Integrity.’

  ‘It’s six o’clock in the morning,’ he grunted. ‘Piss off.’ He hung up.

  Somewhat nonplussed at his grumpiness, given how polite and friendly he’d been towards me in the past, I waited a minute and tried again.

  ‘It’s you again, isn’t it?’

  I grinned. ‘You’re really not a morning person, are you? I just have one question then I’ll let you get back to sleep.’

  ‘Is it urgent?’

  ‘Nope. But you’re awake now.’

  He groaned. ‘I thought I liked you. Now I think I might throttle you.’

  ‘You’ll have to get in line,’ I said cheerfully. There was an u
nfortunate ring of truth about that statement. ‘What do you know about Fomori demons?’

  ‘Ugly. Evil. Live on the other side of the Veil. What’s there to know? There’s not been one here in years, one that showed up at the Cruaich before getting slaughtered.’

  ‘Actually, there was one in Perth last night.’

  There was a moment of silence. Then, sounding much more alert, Angus asked, ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Saw it with my own eyes.’

  He swallowed. ‘Shite.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I explained what had happened. ‘The thing is,’ I said, ‘what I really want to know is what you know about Fomori Gifts.’

  ‘Wait, the Fomori have Gifts?’

  A knot of tension tightened in my lower back. That was pretty much all I needed.

  ‘It does make sense,’ Angus continued. ‘I’d just never thought about it before. To be honest, I never really thought much about Fomori demons before. Does the Steward know what happened last night?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said drily, ‘I imagine so. Thanks, Angus. Go back to dreamland.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can sleep now,’ he said. ‘Stay safe, Integrity. Call me if you need anything.’

  I smiled. ‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’ I drummed my fingers on the table. Angus was just one guy; he wasn’t the only person I could call.

  Unfortunately, it was a bit more complicated getting hold of the Bull. I had to go through several layers of people before I could finally speak to him. ‘You have to give me your mobile number,’ I instructed him when he finally huffed at me from the other end of the line. ‘I need to be able to get hold of you quicker than an asthmatic snail can move up Ben Nevis.’

  ‘I am not your slave.’

  He seemed to keep forgetting that part. I reminded him helpfully. ‘Actually, you pretty much are.’

  ‘I don’t have a mobile.’

  I couldn’t tell whether he was being truthful or not. It was interesting to know that Kirsty Kincaid’s Gift only worked face to face. Either way, that kind of problem was easily solved. ‘Get one,’ I told him. I had the Bull’s true name and he had to do what I commanded. ‘And tell me what you know about Fomori demons and Gifts.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Do Fomori demons have Gifts?’

  I could picture him screwing up his face in response. ‘How the hell should I know?’

  I shook my head. ‘Not good enough. Answer the question properly.’ I paused and used his true name, ‘Cul-chain.’

  He let out a curse at which even Taylor would have raised his eyebrows. ‘I do not know if the demons have Gifts. Alright?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  There was a pause. ‘Why do you need to know that?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,’ I said lightly and changed the subject. ‘How are the wedding preparations coming along? For Tipsania and Byron, I mean. It has to be on the cards some time soon.’ I realised I was holding my breath and cursed silently.

  ‘It’s not,’ he said sourly. ‘We are waiting for the Moncrieffes to make their move so we can announce the engagement. They are dragging their heels for some reason. The Steward is also disinclined to accept my requests for a private meeting.’

  I scratched my nose. I might have been rather rash when I’d informed Aifric that I had the Bull’s true name. Oh well. I couldn’t change the past and it would be good if Byron and Tipsania got married. Then Byron would be off the table for good. Wedding rings were a serious turn-off. And Byron was not for me. I opened my mouth to tell the Bull to hurry things along then changed my mind. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you do the same when they get in touch. Drag your heels ‒ for as long as possible.’ I mentally slapped myself.

  ‘This is because you want him for yourself,’ the Bull spat. ‘Byron Moncrieffe and Tipsania are in love and you’re going to steal their happiness away from them. You -’

  I interrupted before he could go any further. ‘I have to go now. Bye!’

  I hung up. The Bull was both right and wrong. No, Byron and Tipsy were most definitely not in love but yes, I did want him for myself, even with my serious doubts about him creeping in again. Crapadoodle.

  ***

  The others roused themselves before midday, groggy and bleary-eyed. Brochan was the worst. When Taylor saw my look, he leaned over and whispered, ‘Tequila shots. And a rather fetching merwoman who insisted he dance Strip The Willow with her afterwards.’

  I winced. Strip the Willow was a ceilidh dance that involved spinning. Lots and lots and lots of spinning. Poor Brochan. ‘Are we okay to leave? We can delay if you guys need more time.’

  ‘We should probably go now,’ Taylor said with studied casualness. I looked at him suspiciously and he shrugged. He didn’t even look guilty. ‘There are a few selkies who came in from the river. They weren’t very pleased when I fleeced them of their wages.’

  He’d been gambling again. Big surprise. I might have been expecting it but the revelation still didn’t make me happy. ‘You can’t keep doing that. You’re an addict. You told me you’d stop.’

  He grinned. ‘No, you told me I’d stop. Besides, we need as much money as we can get. It wouldn’t be so bad if people weren’t try to kill you all the time, Tegs, but those Clan Lands of yours aren’t going to get fixed up on their own. And if we have to keep buying new cars all the time...’

  I held up my palm. ‘Try to avoid making any bets for a while. Try it for a week.’

  ‘I can stop gambling whenever I want to. How about I turn the tables? You stay away from Byron and I’ll won’t bet.’

  Those were two completely different things. I shook my head. ‘Come on,’ I sighed. ‘Let’s get on the road.’

  Our ‘new’ car didn’t have the smell of fish that the Fiat had provided but it did bestow us with a series of alarming groans whenever Speck tried to change gear. He still managed to bring it up to an admirable speed, zipping out of Perth and back onto the road in no time. On the bright side, the stereo system was broken so we were treated to an unexpected and welcome silence.

  As we settled in for the journey, we agreed that we wouldn’t stop this time, even if Mother Theresa returned from the dead and asked for help. Enough was enough. Fortunately, the road was quiet and no one tried to interrupt our journey. I was lost in my own thoughts – and still wrapped in Byron’s jacket ‒ when we arrived at the gateway to the Adair Lands.

  ‘We’re here,’ Speck said with obvious relief.

  I looked up. A large sign was hammered into the ground. ‘This land is off limits to all. By order of Aifric Moncrieffe, Steward of the Highlands.’

  ‘Stop the car,’ I said softly.

  I opened the door, got out, walked over to the sign then drew back my fist and punched it. Pain slammed through my hand. Taylor’s door opened but I called out to him to stay inside. This was for me.

  I kicked the sign, using as much force as I could muster. It creaked and the old wood splintered but it stayed upright, so I grabbed the edge of it and started yanking it, moving it back and forth until I could pull it completely free from the ground. I threw it down and slammed my heel onto it then I dusted off my palms and got back into the car.

  ‘Feel better now?’ Taylor enquired.

  I shrugged and pulled out a splinter, sucking on the tiny wound. ‘I guess. How far is it to the main house?’

  ‘Only about a mile,’ Brochan answered. I was glad that I’d sent him here before and that what was up ahead wasn’t entirely unexpected. I gave him a satisfied nod.

  ‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asked.

  I considered the question. ‘What lies at the bottom of the sea and shivers?’

  ‘I know that one!’ Bob yelled. ‘A nervous wreck! Ha! Got it! You can’t pull the wool over my eyes! There’s no kidding a kidder!’

  ‘Well done. Now look at Brochan. Does he look scared?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Because there’s no sea near here. So there’s no ne
ed to shiver and no need to be scared. Hell, yes, I’m up for this. Home sweet home.’

  ‘It’ll be fine, Tegs.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lexie said. ‘We’re all here with you.’

  My shoulders sagged. ‘Am I that obvious?’

  She grinned. ‘Yeah, kind of.’

  Speck put the car into gear and we drove on slowly. I stared out at the land. It didn’t look like a place of evil. There wasn’t anything growing but then I already knew that would be the case, given the salting that had taken place after my father’s alleged murder spree. It was barren but sun was splintering down from the clouds and the resulting light was soft and welcoming. Off in the distance, however, there was a lone, desolate tree. For some reason that single sign of life struck at my heart more than anything else.

  Gravel crunched under the wheels as the road curved to the left. That was when I caught my first sight of what had once been the Adair stronghold.

  It was far larger than I’d envisaged, a grand building which must have housed the entire Clan very comfortably. Even from this distance, though, it was clear that it was a state of incredible disrepair. Moss and lichen crawled up one side of it; on the other side it looked as if some of the stonework was loose and crumbling. The heavy door at the front gaped open and there were scorch marks across it.

  I breathed in and reached inside myself, detaching the childish part of me that still occasionally wished all this was a mistake and that at any moment my parents would jump out from behind a corner and yell ‘surprise’. I wasn’t a child any more. I had to deal with this.

  Speck parked at the front. I got out, craning my neck and gulping in every detail. Lexie came up beside me and grabbed my arm. Taylor took the other one.

  ‘It’s not as bad as I expected,’ I told them. ‘I’m alright. It’s just that...’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. Something seems off.’