Page 31 of Duncan

Over the next week as Nicole waited for the MacMar to capture one of the hybrids, she tried to adjust to her new living conditions. After spending a lifetime enjoying all the best that money could buy, she struggled with some of the more rudimentary necessities. The privy was no better than an outhouse, and the maids only brought the tub to her room once a week, so she had to bathe from the water in the washstand. She had to lace everything she wore that had been made on the island, and untangle her hair with a comb, not a brush. The lye soap the maids provided dried her skin dreadfully, until Lark brought her a container of moisturizer she’d made herself from seed oil, rose-scented water and beeswax.

“I figured being a redhead you’d have sensitive skin like me,” the seamstress said. “Once they shear the sheep this fall I’m going to try to extract the lanolin from the wool and turn it into some skin and lip balms for winter.”

Nicole appreciated all that the other women from the future did to make her comfortable, but she still left the stronghold as often as she could. She considered walking by herself to the nearby village Julianne had shown her, but lately the maids and some of the male servants at Dun Ard had been giving her the oddest looks. No doubt they’d heard about her healing the injured cart horse, and given their medieval attitudes, probably thought she was some kind of witch. Since accused witches never fared too well in primitive cultures, she was probably safer staying within sight of the guards.

The inactivity bothered her, however, so every morning after breakfast she walked out to the forest and back. Down below the trail, another stone-lined path led to a pretty, tree-shaded cove, but Valerie had asked her to stay away from the bay. As she made her way toward the trees she attracted the attention of birds, squirrels, and even a pair of little, furry creatures with small dark eyes, golden ruffs and adorable faces that vaguely resembled tiny foxes. At first they kept their distance and simply watched her, but when she scattered a handful of grain in the grass for them one day, they all ignored the food and came closer, with the weasel-like pair coming onto the trail and sniffing around her new boots.

“Good morning.” Nicole slowly crouched down, expecting them to run off, and then smiled as they both climbed onto her lap and cuddled against her like affectionate puppies. “Hey. You certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

As she petted them she discovered they had the silkiest thick fur, and when they grinned at her they displayed very white, sharp-looking teeth. Then, just as suddenly, they stiffened and scampered off, the birds and mice following after them.

“Do you befriend pine martens in your time?” Shaw asked as he came and offered her a hand.

“Is that what they were? Ah, no. They’re very cute, though.” She stood and brushed off her skirt. “Are they some variety of fox?”

“More like weasels, Mistress.” He nodded toward the woods. “You should ken they’re the most vicious hunters on the island. Many a woodsman’s lost fingers after prodding a marten. Indeed, I’ve never ken the wee killers ever show affection for any mortal.”

“I’ll be more careful, then. Ah, do you think it would be all right if I walk down there?” She pointed to the cove. “Lady Valerie said I should avoid the shoreline because of the problem with the Finfolk, but I won’t go in the water.”

He nodded. “I shall accompany you.”

As they walked down to the cove path the chieftain told her about the nearby walking labyrinth, and how it served as a place for the MacMar and their aquatic neighbors to talk and work out their differences.

“I could use something like that,” Nicole admitted. Ever since the laird’s wife had asked her to try to heal a hybrid, she had been restless; even more so whenever she thought about her father. “I know the laird has contacted the druids on the mainland to see if they can help me go home, but it seems like it’s taking forever for them to respond.”

“’Tis difficult, remaining patient when you’re far from home.” Shaw took hold of her elbow as she stepped over a bunch of weeds. “After the Pritani captured me and took me from my brothers, I watched every day, expecting them come and free me. I couldnae sit still, for wanting their rescue. Oft my pacing earned me a lashing.”

“How long were you enslaved?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Too long, my lady.” Shaw stopped and breathed in deeply, his expression darkening. “You should return to Dun Ard, Mistress Fairburn. Something in the water, ’tis dead.”

“I’m all right.” She looked at the shadowy cove, and spotted a large mound of brown seaweed floating in the center. “Do you mean that, Chieftain?”

“Aye.” He didn’t seem to be looking at anything, his eyes fixed on the embankment. When he lifted his head, she saw his eyes had turned black.

“Does the smell of death awaken the Pritani spirit inside you?” she asked quietly, easing a few steps back.

“Aye. Never run from me, even as I am now.” Shaw caught Nicole’s arm to stop her. “You should return on your own, lass, and I shall stand watch. When you reach the stronghold, bid the guards send some men with a litter.”

“I will, once we’re sure this is a person.” She could already smell the decaying flesh coming from the floating pile of seaweed, and it made her stomach clench. “Can you pull the remains to shore? It will be easier to see who or what it is.”

The chieftain gave her a long look before he nodded and waded out to the center of the cove. Taking hold of the floating, twisted mass, he dragged it through the water, and hoisted it onto the bank before climbing out and dropping to his knees. He drew a long blade from his belt, and used it to cut through the mass of wet, slimy fronds until he exposed a short arm attached to most of a shoulder and a breast, and part of a neck. Shaw pulled off his tunic, and used it to cover the remains. On his arm and chest, the black Pritani tattoos appeared to be writhing on his skin, betraying his agitation.

Shaw cannae lose his temper, Duncan murmured from her memory. Such a thing, ’twould permit the beast overtake him.

“Do you know her?” Nicole asked, and when he shook his head she reached out to touch the chieftain’s arm. “It’s okay. Whoever murdered this woman won’t get away with it.”

Shaw’s ink stopped moving, but then he suddenly recoiled from her. “Dinnae put hands on me, lass. The beast, ’twill use your boon and invade you.”

“I don’t think so, or it would have already done so.” She waited for a few moments, but experienced no pain or any discomfort other than her own distress over finding the woman dead. “I don’t know who to talk to at the stronghold. You go, and let me stay here with the body.”

The chieftain watched her for a long moment, nodded, and then vanished in a flood of inky darkness that poured out of the cove and across the trail.

Nicole sat down by the tunic-draped mound, and drew up her legs as she wrapped her arms around her knees. “I wish you could tell me who did this to you. I’d make sure Shaw was the one who carried out their punishment.”

Water splashed, and a fair-haired, stunningly handsome man quietly surfaced in the cove. The three slits on the sides of his neck revealed him to be one of the Finfolk, and the purple and gold metal crown he wore suggested he was their king. She had never seen a more beautiful or unearthly man; he might have been a computer-generated icon of the perfect fantasy warrior. His eyes, which were so vividly blue and gold they resembled jewels, shifted over her and the woman’s remains before he swam closer.

“I am Merrick,” the man said.