Emma knew she’d regret asking, but she just had to know. “Who is thisCailleach na Mointeach? What do you mean she brought us together?”
“Cailleach na Mointeach. The old woman of the moor. Mistress of the Stones and half-sister to the Goddess Brid.”Torin’s face darkened as he spoke. He flinched against what must’ve been unpleasant memories. “She is the one who awakened me from my cursed sleep and joined our paths at the stones.”
What he said didn’t make sense. But then, nothing about Torin made any sense. Emma pushed herself away from the counter. He needed help. Badly. Emma pushed the memory of the strangely filling cup to the back of her mind and focused her attention on his troubled face. Aside from the scars, he seemed so…healthy. What a shame his mind was gone.
“Maybe you should come to the clinic with me and let Dr. Mackenzie check you out.” That had to be it. Maybe MacKenzie could arrange a trip to the mainland for a CAT scan or MRI. Torin had to be suffering from some weird psychosis. Could be some sort of syndrome linked to the terrible scars he wore. Uneasiness stirred the coffee in her stomach into a nauseating slosh. A psychosis wouldn’t explain the magic coffee cup that refilled on his command. She just wouldn’t worry about that part right now.
“Why do ye fight what ye’ve seen with your own eyes? Why do ye not accept what your senses tell ye?” Torin took a step closer, his hands flexing open and closed with a jerking, irritated rhythm.
“Because nothing you say ever makes any sense. Nothing about you could possibly be true.” Why wouldn’t he listen to her? Emma gave up on the mug of coffee clenched between her hands. With an irritated jerk, she threw the now tepid liquid into the sink. If Torin wouldn’t get the help he needed, there wasn’t anything more she could do. He had to go. She had important work to do, and she hadn’t traveled all this way just to get waylaid by a muscle-bound mystery in a kilt. “Look. I have to get to the clinic. By the time I get home this evening, I’d like for you to be gone. I let you stay here last night because of the storm, butthat’s it. There has to be some sort of shelter around here where you can stay until you get your bearings or figure out wherever it is you belong.” Emma inhaled a shaking breath. “If you won’t agree to get some help, then I can’t allow you to stay here any longer.”
Torin’s lips curled into a frustrated sneer. “The only help I can use, Emma, must be given by you.” His expression shut down as though a protective shield shuttered into place. “But I willna stay where I am not welcome. But ye must know this: our fates are intertwined. Ye canna be free of my existence so easily. Nor can I be free of you.” With a dismissive jerk of his head in her direction, he yanked his still dripping plaid off the rack beside the hearth and headed back out into the storm.
Chapter
Fifteen
The rain pelted against the tight weave of the plaid bunched about his shoulders. The water beaded up and rolled in tiny rivulets down the water-resistant wool. The damp cold of the endless gusts of wind seeped into his bones and stung his skin. Damn the woman and twice damn the infuriating Cailleach for shoving that frustrating female into his life. Maybe now, the spirit woman would agree to return him to the memory-free peace of the shadows. His conscience nudged him as Emma’s tear-streaked face blotted all other thoughts from his mind. She had been so helpless when she’d thrashed with terror against the evils of her dreams. A brewing darkness troubled the little stone guardian, and it was plain she had no idea whatsoever how to fight it.
Aye, well, she’d oustedhimeasily enough. Torin snorted as muddy water splashed over his soaked boots as he slogged through the flooded path. Squinting through the gray sheets of water sleeting down from black, sagging clouds, Torin spotted an outcropping of rain-slicked boulders wedged into the hillside. At last. A bit of shelter.Out of the cold, body-numbing rain, he could gather his bearings and plan his next move.
Stomping into the cave created by the massive stones, Torin shook the water from his body. With a snap of his plaid, water flew from the heavy weave and splattered across the damp sandy ground of the cave floor.
And now for a fire.Torin glanced around the perimeter of the small grotto. Bits of driftwood wedged around the base of the rear wall. Gray fingers of broken branches poked from between outcroppings of jagged stone scattered the length of the cave. The relentless wind had deposited all manner of debris throughout the dank interior. He pried the smooth, bleached branches from the grip of the rocks and stacked them near the entrance. It would be so much easier to manifest the wood but the tenet regarding abuse of the energies nagged at the back of his mind. Torin stared at the cold lifeless pile of debris. Well. Perhaps a bit of magic wouldn’t hurt. He waved his hand over the miniature pyre, then stepped closer to the yellow flames as they greeted him with welcome heat.
Glancing around the small damp cave, Torin broke the silence with a satisfied chuckle. He’d done what she’d instructed. Found somewhere else to stay. Albeit briefly. He would have to leave before the tide returned. As he stretched his hands over the warmth of the fire, he drew in a heavy breath. Now what? He sensed Emma needed him, but she just didn’t realize it. The meddlingCailleachhad shoved him into her life and now neither of them would know any peace until they took the path the old spirit woman wished. Wariness stirred deep in his gut as he stared into the flames. The last woman he had gotten close to had torn his heart from his chest. Scrubbing his hands together, he ground his teeth until his jaw nearly cracked. Perhaps, if he returned to his blessed stones, he could breach the portal and leave this god-awful place to the likes of Arach.
“Now, ye know damn good and well the old woman will ne’er allow ye to pass through to the next realm until ye’ve done her bidding. Did ye not learn a thing when ye failed to end your life?”
Torin didn’t bother lifting his gaze from the mesmerizing flames, just stretched closer to the drying warmth. “What are ye doing out of your loch,Seonaidh? Have your mortals not offered ye suitable ale to slake your unquenchable thirst?”
The blue tinged form of a spritely youth wavered just outside the mouth of the cave, standing with both arms outspread to the blowing rain. “Nah. The offering they made was suitable enough. Why do ye think they’re receivin’ all this blessed rain?”
Torin snorted, snapped a branch of wood across one knee, and tossed it into the fire. “I figured thisblessed raincame from theCailleachherself to force the woman to give me shelter.”
“Aye well, there is that. So, pray tell, oh damp stone guardian, why is your stubborn arse shivering in this cave instead of sitting in front of her lovely peat fire?”Seonaidhlifted his chin and released an ecstatic sigh as he closed his eyes to the blowing water pelting his face.
“It would seem our present day stone guardian has a bit of a problem accepting the magic. She only believes what she can see or touch and doubts even that if it doesna agree with her learned rules for reality.” Torin blew out a heavy breath as Emma’s reaction to the cup of mulled wine filled his thoughts. He could only imagine how she would react if she witnessed all his powers.
“The magic’s been hidden from her consciousness up until now and she’s also shaped by her history. Surely, ye understand how the past molds the pliable beings of this time?”Seonaidharched a pale blue brow in Torin’s direction. “The poor woman’s been scarred by her past, Torin. Have ye not even bothered to look?” The water spiritlowered his arms and hooked his long, graceful fingers into the straps of his flowing tunic. Tighteninghis mouth into a disapproving line, he tucked his chin to his chest with a sad, sympathetic shake of his head. “The kelpies told me they sent her birth mother and her adoptive parents to the other side. They’re still hissing about how the wily female guardian snatched her stepsister from their grasp.”
Torin glared into the crackling flames. So that was why Emma denied the magic. No wonder she turned her eyes from the proof staring her in the face. “Damn kelpies. Do they not understand what damage their actions do to those left behind by their mischief?”
“They dinna care. Ye know ye canna tell a kelpie anything.”
Torin paced away from the fire, circling the small circumference of the cave. “How long since her parents died? How bad was it when she saved her sister?”
“Damn, Torin, have ye grown so lazy and inept with your centuries of sleep? Scry it, man. Ye need to see it for yourself so ye might learn what the old woman has placed within yer grasp.”Seonaidhwaved a thin blue hand toward a shimmering puddle just outside the entrance of the cave while glowering at Torin.
The surface of the puddle immediately stilled and shimmered with a blue-white aura. The rains parted around the circumference of the glowing pool as though it were protected by an invisible barrier. The center of the glowing circle of water darkened as images formed across the surface. A strangely shaped boat appeared, orange in color with swollen sides, as though the thing was made of some sort of inflated bladder. Inside the boat, with puffy bright vests lashed around their bodies, sat an older man, a gray-haired woman, a young woman, and a spindly armed little girl. Torin edged closer to the revealing puddle. He crouched down and touched the tip of his finger to the water’s edge. The vision immediately sprang into motion and the out-of-focus picture sharpened.
Recognition rippled through his body. The young woman was a much younger Emma. Her green eyes were wide in her pale, panic-stricken face as she wrapped her arms around the tiny, tow-headed girl beside her. The boat lurched and dove between froth-covered rocks jutting up through the surface along the center of the treacherous stream. Angry water poured into the boat, drenching the passengers clutching at the ropes. The girls screamed as the boat slid halfway up an out-cropping of treacherous black peaks. The thrashing inhabitants flipped out of the orange bladder into the churning stream.
Torin leaned closer to the disturbing image, flexing his hands as Emma clenched a flailing hand through the straps fluttering loose in chaotic abandon down the side of the raft. She thrashed against the rushing water while maintaining her hold on her sister by the strap wrapped around the glowing orange vest. The boat burst free of the cluster of stones; the current rushed them down the swollen river. Emma yanked her young sister close, arching back against the rushing water to keep the child’s head protected against her chest. Torin watched. He held his breath in mounting dread while the girls bobbed along like two small chunks of river debris lost to the mercy of the water. The river finally released its hold and tossed them into a gently whirling eddy. With her arms wrapped around her sister’s limp body, Emma staggered to the muddy shore. Collapsing with the child on the unforgiving strand of rock and mud, Emma raised her head. Her hand shaking, she shoved matted hair out of her face as tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked around the remote wilderness with frantic, jerking motions. Her body froze, and she eased back on her heels when her gaze landed on what she sought.
Torin grimaced. A sudden feeling of helplessness flowed through him as Emma paled even further, then collapsed into a huddled mound of violent sobbing after she spotted themangled forms of her parents. Their broken bodies dangled from the branches of a downed tree wedged between boulders in the center of the stream. Their arms trailed atop the water as the current tugged at their lifeless limbs. Rage choked him as Emma’s sobs echoed out of the vision. She cradled her sister in her arms and rocked the unconscious child against her breast.
Raising his head, Torin scrubbed the image from his eyes. The memory of the pain etched on Emma’s face forever burned into his mind. “And what of her birth mother? Does she bear the trauma of that loved one’s death as well?”
