Page 20 of The Last Kelpie

A shadow hovered beneath the surface. I turned to look at the trees, but the shape didn't resemble any of them. It wasn't a reflection, nor was it a fish.

I stopped walking and pointed at it. “Áedán.”

He turned to look and went still.

The shadow moved, but it still didn't look natural. The water above it rippled, and for just a moment—less than a heartbeat—the surface twisted into a spiral. Then it was gone. The water settled back into stillness. But I knew I'd seen it. And from the way Áedán was staring at the pond, he'd seen it too.

“What was that?” I whispered. “Please, tell me it was kelpie magic.”

Áedán didn't answer immediately. He walked to the water's edge, crouched down, and touched the surface with his fingertips. The water rippled outward in perfect circles. When he stood, his expression was neutral. “I dinnae know what that was, but it wasnae my magic.”

“But you saw it.”

“Yes.”

“It was a spiral.”

“Yes.” He frowned. “A spiral and an additional line, as if someone were aboot to make another spiral.”

I stared at the water, picturing the symbol again. He was right. There had been another part to it. Like the artist was starting a new line. “Or had removed part of it.”

“Removed it?”

“Yes, it looked like a continuation of the spiral, just separated. As if someone had erased a section of the line to leave the end hanging.”

“I dinnae like it.”

“So, you didn't recognize the symbol?”

“I've seen many spirals, but never one like that.”

A shiver of fear ran down my spine. “We should go back.”

Áedán nodded and motioned me toward the trail. I went first, and he brought up the rear, both of us looking back often. We walked back to the village in silence. The sun was lower, casting long shadows across the path. By the time we reached Luss, the tourists were leaving, heading back to their rental cars and tour buses.

Moira's offerings were still on the stone by the water. The flowers hadn't wilted, nor had the bread been eaten by birds. Áedán stopped and looked at them for a long moment. Then he knelt, touched the flowers gently, and whispered something. I caught the lilting sound of his voice, but that was all.

When he stood, his eyes were glossy. “Someone remembered. After all this time. Someone remembered.”

“She remembered you, Áedán. You saved her mother. Her mother never forgot, and now she will never forget. That, more than any story, is a testament to who you are.”

He held my gaze. “I killed that man, Ethan. He was going to hurt her. Just for fun. So, I waited until she was gone, and then I went after him.”

I knew I shouldn't condone killing, but I didn't care. “Good. Because of you, a wicked man died, and an innocent girl lived.”

Áedán blinked. “You dinnae care that I'm a killer?”

“No, you did what was necessary.”

I will never forget the look on his face—as if I were something wondrous and rare. I imagine he saw something similar on my face when I looked at him.

Chapter Nine

The next morning I returned to the loch prepared. Notebooks in a waterproof bag. Camera with an extra battery. A digital recorder Julian had insisted I bring, small enough to fit in my palm. I'd dressed practically—jeans, boots, and a jacket that could handle the wind off the water. I looked like someone ready to conduct a proper interview.

Áedán was waiting on the shore, hands in his pockets, watching me approach with an expression I couldn't read.

“Good morning,” I said. Professional. Composed. “I thought we could start with—”