Page 59 of The Last Kelpie

“Then my plan worked.”

I laughed and settled back in my seat, using my cellphone's GPS to direct him. Áedán made it sound as if he had seduced me, as if he had wanted me from the beginning. I hoped it was true, but it was so hard for me to believe. Then again, wasn't it my job to believe in the impossible?

I tried to relax and enjoy the drive to Balloch. We traveled a winding road that hugged the loch's shore, so the scenery was beautiful. Áedán drove with easy confidence, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift between us. Balloch was pretty close to Áedán's cottage. It only took about fifteen minutes to get there.

The museum was housed in a converted stone cottage near the loch's edge. Rather small for a museum, but then it wasn't for the public. None of the places on my list were. Or, at least, the collections I was interested in weren't. I'd gotten us access by mentioning I was with the Velasca.

Since we were so close to Balloch, I'd asked Margaret Finch, the curator, if we could come by immediately, and she agreed. So, it didn't surprise me when the door opened at our approach, revealing a woman in her sixties with steel-gray hair and sharp eyes.

“Ethan Clarke?” She looked me over as I got out of the Land Rover.

“Yes, that's me.” I motioned to Áedán. “And this is my associate, Áedán.”

He inclined his head.

“Come on in then.” She led us to a back room lined with filing cabinets and archival boxes. “Folklore journals from 1900 to 2000. Help yourselves. Just wear the gloves.” She didn't hover, just turned and left.

We spent three hours going through the boxes. Áedán sat across from me at the small table in the room, turning pages with careful precision. He read faster than I expected, his eyes tracking the text with focused intensity. But although we found the sentence about truth yielding, the book it was in had been published in 1990. Not early enough to be the first.

After leaving Balloch, Áedán wanted to have lunch, and then it was too late to head to Inchmahome, which was on an island in the middle of a lake. So we went back to his cottage.

After parking, we headed around the cottage, but Áedán kept walking when we reached the front door. I assumed he wanted to go for a swim, so I turned away.

“Ethan,” he called back. “Come with me.”

“What?”

He glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

That's all it took for me to go running after him. We went down to the dock and undressed, leaving our clothes in piles. My heart was racing, eager to experience breathing underwater again. I held out my hand to Áedán.

He took it. “I'm going to take you to the stones again.”

“Why? Do you think the memories may have returned?”

“Nae.” Áedán bit his lip. “I want to make love to you amidst the stones.”

“Underwater?” My eyes went wide.

He nodded. “Their magic will guide us. Protect us.”

“Áedán—”

“It's not a marriage, Ethan.” Áedán let go of my hand. “It's just a very old blessing.”

“Áedán—”

“I understand if you dinnae want to. It's all right.”

“For fuck's sake, Áedán! Just let me speak.”

He went still. “Go on then.”

“I'm honored that you want to share this with me. I'm ecstatic that you want to protect us.” I took his hand and squeezed it. “Now let's go. My balls are shriveling in the cold air.”

Áedán burst out laughing and then nodded. “As you wish.”

We jumped into the loch together. Áedán's magic spilled through me immediately, driving away the cold. I breathed in and smiled at him. With the sun still out, I could see many feet down, the water tinted green, and Áedán glowed softly within the filtered light. He looked like a fairy or an old god. And he wanted to make love to me within a ring of ancient stones.