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“Rob—”
He tightens his hand on my throat, cutting me off. He glares and he clenches and unclenches his jaw like he’s chewing over his next move.
“I could kill you,” he says, “but Duncan fancies you.” He lets go and steps back. I drop an inch to the ground and double over, gasping air and rubbing my throat. “If you are a witch, then you’d best help. We’re likely to be caught and I won’t be a captive again.”
His words are hollow and echo with unspoken fear. I cough, trying to ease the pressure and pain in my throat.
“Rob,” I say hoarsely. He gives me a glare. “If you do that again, I’ll killyou.”
His eyes widen and he stares like he’s waiting for the punchline of a joke. I stand up, square my shoulders, and meet his stare with my own steady gaze. His lips tremble then a wide smile spreads across his face and he laughs.
“Mother Mary and Joseph, I think I see what Duncan does.”
“Good,” I say. “Remember that and don’t ever touch me again.”
“Aye, lass,” he chuckles, and I can’t tell if he’s taking me seriously or being placating.
He scans the night, cocking his head to listen. I’m not sure if we’ve worked out the differences or where we stand but it doesn’t matter. Right now, I need him, and I think he needs me too. It’s certain enough to let it be for the moment, because right now we have a lot bigger problems.
“Are we lost?” I say “we” but in truth I am and I’m hoping Rob isn’t.
“In the Highlands?” he scoffs. “A MacGregor is never lost here. This is home and home will provide a way.”
That isn’t something I’ve ever heard before and I can’t tell by his voice or mannerisms if he’s serious or making fun of me. He moves off to the edge of the stand of trees and peeks his head out, looking all around then staring up at the sky. It’s cloudy and the moon is hidden once more so I have no idea what he’s looking for or what he’s using to navigate, but he moves forward with confidence.
The mists move around us like an ocean of white, stirred by our passage and by some barely felt breeze. It looks and somehow feels like waves lapping against us, reinforcing the comparison. The world is a stark contrast of black and gray. Deep dark shadows block vision but it looks like the shadows themselves are held back by the mists.
“This is Fae work,” Rob mutters. The first words he’s spoken in at least thirty minutes.
“What do you mean?”
He waves an arm around.
“You think I don’t know the touch of the Fae when I see it?” He freezes mid-gesture, looking past me. “Down.”
I don’t hesitate to drop to a crouch. Rob reaches for me through the mist and his hand finds my breast. I twist and he latches onto my arm. Silent, he pulls me forward until his face is pressed against mine.
“Don’t speak,” he whispers. “Move.”
He moves his arm over my shoulders and we duckwalk. It’s slow, painful going. We don’t make it far before I hear the clatter of others moving through the dark. I don’t hear dogs this time but that doesn’t mean they’ll be far away.
Fear is exhausting and apparently has limits. This entire situation is terrifying, and, on some level, I am scared I’m sure, but I don’t feel it. Instead, I feel empty. I focus on one motion then the next. Forward. Always forward.
“Any signs?” a deep voice asks, and I freeze. It’s close. Too close.
Rob tightens his grip around my shoulders, tugging me closer and forcing me to keep moving. We’re going blind; for all I can tell we’re moving right into the hunters whose number I don’t know either.
“Something here,” someone calls off to the left.
What? What sign did we leave?
Rob stops and when I try to move forward my face presses against cold stone. Panic blasts through the emptiness in my head and involuntarily I gasp.
“What was that?”
Rob clasps a hand over my mouth and he’s close enough I see the bloodshot whites of his wide eyes. I’m trembling and can’t stop. Tears blur my vision and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt this is it.
“Here.”
