Page 66 of The Last Kelpie

Then his smile faded.

Not gradually. Instantly. It disappeared as if someone had flipped a switch. His eyes went wide, and he focused past me, toward the door.

“Áedán?”

The door exploded inward.

Not physically. It didn't break or splinter. Instead, something surged through the door explosively, like smoke or a shadow. It moved wrong, coming across the floor in spurts of jagged movement.

I scrambled to my feet. Áedán was already moving, putting himself between me and the thing that had just invaded his home. He settled into a fighting stance, preparing for whatever the thing might do.

The entity stood in the center of the room. At least I thought it was standing. It was hard to tell. Looking out of the corner of my eye, it appeared solid, but every time I tried to focus on it, its edges drifted away in wisps of ash. The air around it shimmered like a heat distortion, making the cottage walls appear to bend. It roughly ressembled a person—two arms, two legs and a head. But the features were wrong, blurry, as if someone had smudged its face. It didn't speak. Didn't make any sound at all. But it moved toward us with terrible purpose.

Magic shifted under Áedán's skin, so beautiful, but now it seemed deadly. “Stay behind me.”

“Áedán, I don't think it's after me.”

“Good.” He shifted to the right.

The entity lunged at him.

Áedán met it head-on. They collided in the center of the room with a boom more felt than heard. Áedán lurched back, eyes wide. The thing moved toward him. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—a fire poker—and swung it at the entity's head.

The poker passed through it without resistance, but the entity still stopped and turned toward me. Áedán was there in an instant, grabbing the entity by its throat. I gaped as the thing went solid in his hands. He shoved it backward with a roar, and it sailed through the door. Áedán chased after it, yanking the door open and then launching himself out into the storm. I followed, rain immediately soaking through my clothes and lashing at my skin, cold and sharp as needles.

I still had the poker in my hand, but Áedán and the entity were already down at the loch. Áedán fought savagely, punching at the thing. I ran across the grass and slipped halfway there, falling on my ass. I scrambled to my feet as they grappled at the edge of the dock, the loch churning beneath them, waves crashing against the wooden posts hard enough to send spray ten feet into the air.

Just as I reached the dock, Áedán got his hands around the creature's waist and lifted it. For a moment their silhouetted stood against the flashing sky, two dark figures locked together. Then Áedán threw the entity into the loch.

I didn't think it would work, but as soon as the entity hit the water, it began to dissolve. Not like the way it dissolved when I looked at it. More like being unmade. The ash that drifted from it spread like a dark stain across the water.

Before it pulled a Wicked-Witch-of-the-West, it screamed a name over the roar of the storm. “Áedán!”

Then it was gone. The water where it had fallen looked normal again. Just rain pitting the endless gray of the loch. No stain. No ash.

Áedán stood at the edge of the dock, breathing hard. His hands were shaking. When he turned to look at me, his face was white. I snatched his hand and dragged him away from the water. We stumbled back inside the cottage, and I locked the door even though I knew it wouldn't matter. Whatever that thing was, doors didn't stop it. Áedán collapsed onto the sofa, still shaking and soaked. I grabbed blankets and wrapped them around both of us, then snatched my phone off the side table with trembling fingers.

Julian answered on the second ring. “Ethan, what's wrong?”

“Something attacked us.” My voice sounded strange. Too calm. As if I were reporting on someone else's experience. “At Áedán's cottage. Áedán forced it into the loch, and it vanished.”

Silence on the other end. Then, “Describe it.”

I described its blurry face, the drifting ash, and the way it moved. “Julian, was that a Forgotten?”

“Yes, you encountered one of the Forgotten. It would have been after Áedán, not you.”

“It was. Before it disappeared. It said Áedán's name.”

Another pause, longer this time. “That shouldn't be possible. The Forgotten don't remember anything. That's part of being a Forgotten.”

“Well, this one knew him.” I looked at Áedán. He was staring at the fire, his expression distant. Haunted.

“Bring him here, Ethan. Now.”

“Tomorrow. We're too exhausted to drive now.”

“Tomorrow then. Leave as soon as possible. And one more thing.”