Chapter 18
In kelpie form, Torrpricked his ears and listened to the quick footsteps approaching in the darkness. He sniffed the air. Smelled like Cat. Why would she be out here at this time of night? Something must have happened.
He watched as she emerged from the shadows of the trees and strode into the moonlit clearing.
She wore her long black cloak with the cowl over her head. A braid of her red hair escaped and gleamed in the moonlight.
He nickered and trotted toward her, hoping she would tell him why she'd come. She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him as she had that morn.
But something wasn't right. She smelled like Cat to an extent, but someone else's scent also clung to her.
The witch.
Had Cat been tussling with Wilona and taken on some of her scent?
When he pulled back, something remained around his neck. It smelled like leather and herbs. Then she murmured ancient Gaelic words.
The voice was not Cat's.
'Twas not Cat at all, but Wilona!
Torr reared, roaring a violent neigh. But when the leather tightened upon his neck, it stole his will. Feeling almost paralyzed, he settled his hooves upon the ground. Movement or any protest seemed impossible.
His mind drifted away on the breeze as if he'd been given a strange and powerful elixir. He could not hold his eyes open. He craved sleep.
A calm nothingness surrounded him.
"Aye, that's a good lad, Torr." The words reached into his trance. "Sleep as long as you wish."
Sleep? Nay, he did not want to sleep. He must awaken and take back control.
The strange, contradictory scent of this human irritated his nose.
He snorted and opened his eyes.
"You're awake?" Her expression was overly bright, making it obvious she was pleased with herself. Damn her evil hide.
"You killed Alpin; therefore, you will take his place." She tugged Torr forward... with a bridle. He'd read about this in the old manuscripts—a magical bridle that every kelpie feared most. The hated leather straps caused a tingling cold anywhere they touched. Nausea gripped his stomach.
Saints! He was doomed. The morning sun shining brightly confused him. He'd never been in kelpie form in the daytime. The bridle must have kept him from shifting. Besides that, they were no longer on his clan's lands. He glanced around, not recognizing his surroundings.
How had so many hours passed? And how had he covered so much ground without any awareness?
Wilona grasped the reins and pulled him forward. Sluggishness infused his bones, and even though he willed himself to break free, he couldn't.
"You are my servant now, kelpie."
I shall never be your servant.
At least, he didn't think so. The realization that he might be forced to obey her every command was the most revolting sensation in the world.
"And you'll never turn back into human form unless I allow it." She smiled, sickening him.
A string of the vile names he wished to call her ran through his mind, but he couldn't talk or even utter a sound.
"Halt." She climbed onto the boulder beside him, then hoisted herself upon his back.
"Be a nice pony and take me to my new home. I'd hate to have to use a whip on you." She chuckled. "On second thought, I might enjoy it."
