Page 38

Madeleine hated storms.

She wasn’t one to hide from the sound of thunder, but she did brace herself against power outages and structural damage.

And, of course, she prayed for everyone’s safety.

Coming from New Orleans, she knew about the power of wind and rain, but there hadn’t been anything in the cottage she could use to board up the windows.

She had, however, filled the bathtub with water.

Reflex.

Haera had told her, weeks ago, that ?tlaquoy had nothing to fear from storms because of the little trow in his mound.

She brought him food, and his magic kept the farm safe.

It sounded like an unequal bargain to Madeleine: daily breakfast for the protection of an entire property?

But Haera had assured Madeleine that it was enough for the trow; he wanted the respect signified by a daily offering.

His kind, Haera said, were big on offerings.

“And,” she’d added, “I think he likes being seen for what he is instead of having to hide.”

Now, as Madeleine sat on the cottage couch while the wind howled outside, she looked at her hands.

Haera had wanted her to meet the trow, and she’d wanted more than that.

She’d wanted Madeleine to see the unseen world from which she came, even if a trow and an Each-uisge were very different creatures.

Tomorrow morning, Madeleine would.

It was past time. Haera had been patient with her, more than she was about pretty much anything else.

If Madeleine wanted to keep leaning into doubt as a way to reshape her faith—and herself—then she’d better put her money where her mouth was.

Even if the idea made her stomach squirm with apprehension.

The current state of affairs wasn’t likely to calm her down.

Summer days in Orkney were long, and it was just the early evening, but the storm clouds had turned the sky as black as night.

Thunder clapped outside, loudly enough that she gasped.

Moments later, lightning flashed beyond the rain-hammered windows.

Good Lord, it was starting to sound like a hurricane.

Much worse than the forecast had said.

Haera was still out there.

Madeleine’s heart thumped unpleasantly.

Haera was supernaturally strong, but she wasn’t proof against a lightning bolt.

She hadn’t said where she was going or how long it would take for her to return.

She’d left on the Gator, which could easily get stuck.

Or, given how Haera drove, it could turn right over.

Madeleine pulled out her phone.

She’d call. Cell reception on Jorsay wasn’t the best, but she had to try.

No bars. Madeleine stared at the display.

No reception? The storm must have taken out a tower somewhere.

“Shoot,” she muttered as she hurried to the kitchen.

The landline phone was mounted to the wall by the back door.

She couldn’t reach Haera’s cell, but she could at least call the house, where Haera might be taking shelter instead.

If not, Jonathan would pick up, and he might at least know where she’d gone.

Then, as Madeleine was only a few feet away from the phone, the power went out.

The cottage darkened.

The rattling radiator quieted.

The only sound came from the wind, rain, and thunder.

Madeleine didn’t have the fire going yet, and there was no light source.

If this was what the trow’s protection brought during a storm, Madeleine hated to think how bad things would be without it.

She used her phone’s flashlight to make her way to the landline without stubbing her toe on anything.

It’s only the dark, she told herself.

Nothing’s here that wasn’t here before.

You just can’t see it as well .

Her parents had always warned her and David that talking on the phone during a thunderstorm could get you electrocuted.

She’d take the risk, she thought, as she fumbled the receiver from the cradle and held it to her ear.

As her finger hovered over the buttons, she froze.

No dial tone.

That shouldn’t be.

Landlines were supposed to work even during power outages.

At least, they did in the US.

Was it different out here?

Something to do with being on an island?

Regardless, neither of her phones worked.

She was stuck here alone in the dark, and she’d be an idiot to go outside in this weather just to get some company, as if she were a frightened child.

Lightning flashed. The sudden brilliance summoned her gaze to the nearest window, the one over the kitchen sink.

A gigantic horse looked back at her.

The shriek was barely out of her mouth when the lightning faded, and it was dark outside the window once more.

Her heart jumped into overdrive nevertheless.

She stared at the panes.

Had she imagined that?

Had it been Haera?

Madeleine’s hands trembled.

Now was a fine time for Haera to show off her horse form again: without any warning, in the middle of a tempest, scaring Madeleine half to death.

Then again, maybe it was safer for her in the storm, in that shape?

She might be more resilient, except…

what was it Haera had said?

Storms come from Stormhorses .

Each-uisge who grow wings and unleash their power.

She’d also said, If my herd saw me, and it was easy to catch me, my life would be forfeit .

Haera would never wander around during a storm in her true form.

Or her human form, for that matter, although she said only three Each-uisge would recognize it: the herd’s Sire, her mother, and her brother.

So what in the world had just looked at Madeleine through the window?

She heard a noise outside, loud enough to be heard even over the wind.

A neigh.

Not like any horse’s neigh she knew, though.

It was low-pitched but hideous in its volume.

As if it had come from enormous lungs.

She’d never thought a neigh could sound menacing before.

Her flashlight guided her toward the sink.

Seriously, was she imagining things?

Or was Haera foolish enough to walk around in her true shape?

If so, she’d better get in here.

Madeleine could give her a piece of her mind, then kiss her, then say she was absolutely ecstatic to meet the trow.

She’d do anything Haera needed her to do, because they were in each other’s keeping.

Just as long as Haera was safe.

Getting near a window was something else you weren’t supposed to do during a storm, but she’d thrown out so many commonsense rules by now.

What was one more?

Thunder clapped so loudly that she cringed.

It sounded as if it were directly above the cottage roof.

She found the edge of the sink with her hands and leaned forward toward the window.

Nothing but darkness and barely visible streaks of rain on the glass.

Mere seconds after the thunderclap, lightning struck again—a bolt striking the ground itself within easy view of the kitchen window.

By itself, that would have been enough to frighten Madeleine, but tonight she could only stare at the horse that did, indeed, stand on the other side of the glass.

She only saw it for a few seconds.

But that was more than enough time to know it wasn’t Haera.

It was huge, bigger even than Haera had been on the shore.

It was black, where Haera had been pale.

Its eyes were—oh, she must be imagining this, she absolutely must— red .

The lightning faded.

Spots danced before her eyes.

She blinked, readjusting to the darkness even as her soul began gibbering in terror.

The neigh, again. Even darker and deeper than before.

Not Haera. One of Haera’s kin, an Each-uisge .

It had to be. And probably not here for a friendly reunion with a long-lost member of the herd.

She stepped back from the window.

Her knees weren’t steady.

It was so dark in here, and she was all alone.

Meanwhile, Haera was out there somewhere?—

Wasn’t she?

Had she already been found by the other ones, however many had come here?

Was she dead?

Dead, Madeleine lunged back toward the window, she can’t be dead, Madeleine grabbed the sink, not dead, Madeleine leaned forward until her breath fogged up the glass, Haera can’t be dead, I would feel it .

She would say so, yell it loud enough to be heard on the other side.

She would make that horrible horse tell her that Haera was alive.

Lightning flashed again.

Cloud-to-cloud this time.

There was nothing on the other side of the window.

Madeleine clung to the counter.

Outside, the wind and the rain began to lessen—the storm must be passing, and quickly.

Did that mean the Stormhorses had found Haera and taken what they’d come for?

Oh God, if only she could call the main house!

Why wasn’t the landline working?

Had that creature out there cut the line to the box?

That couldn’t be. How in the world would it know what a phone line even was?

Haera had said Each-uisge avoided humans unless they were preying on them.

Preying on me . Her blood turned to ice.

She strained to hear anything.

The wind had gone from a shriek of rage to a low moan, as if saying, My work here is done .

When thunder rumbled again, it sounded more distant.

The sky, however, remained dark.

Otherwise, everything was silent except for the percussive slam of Madeleine’s own heart.

Until the creature neighed again.

Madeleine whirled on her heel.

The sound had come from the left.

She stared at the curtains hiding the nearest window in that direction, just as lightning flashed again.

On the other side of the pale curtains stood a giant horse’s silhouette.

Madeleine could barely breathe.

The horse moved on as the lightning faded.

It walked slowly, taking its time.

Madeleine, biting her lip against a groan of fear, looked at the front door.

She’d left it unlocked for Haera.

Not that it mattered, right?

Horses couldn’t unlock doors.

But this was not a horse.

This was a creature out of myth , and it could take a human shape, with human hands.

The thought was enough to unfreeze Madeleine’s knees.

She sprinted toward the door.

Every foot seemed like a mile, and every second she expected the door to open and a human-that-wasn’t to be on the other side, ready to tear her into pieces.

It didn’t happen. She reached the door and turned the lock.

There. Now she had to get to the back door.

Both doors were made of thick, heavy wood—even an Each-uisge wouldn’t be able to shove them open easily.

But just as Madeleine turned on her heel to race to the back door, a voice spoke.

“Come out, little sister.”

She froze.

“It’s been too long. Don’t you want to see your family?”

The voice was deep, masculine, and unearthly.

It resounded with an echo no human voice could, and it could only belong to one creature.

Asgall said, “It’s dead, you know. The trow. I ate most of it in just a few bites. No more magical protection for you, although you might have guessed that by now.”

Madeleine shuddered.

Yes, on some level, she had guessed.

“Madeleine?”

She hadn’t been ready to hear her own name in that voice, sinister as a cold hand in the dark.

She gasped.

“If my sister’s too cowardly to come out of her own accord, perhaps you could encourage her? Perhaps you could tell her that if she comes out, I will spare you.”

Oh God.

Oh God. Madeleine stumbled backward a step, and then she turned and dashed to the back door.

Even as she did, she heard hooves pounding the ground outside of the cottage in the same direction.

Asgall must have heard her moving inside—of course he did, Each-uisge had supernatural hearing, and she wasn’t being quiet—he was keeping pace with her.

He was so fast, would he actually beat her to the back door?

Madeleine slammed her body, shoulder first, against the door as she threw the bolt—the new, sturdy iron bolt Haera had installed only a couple of weeks ago.

Asgall’s steps came to a stop on the other side.

She’d barely made it.

The door seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright.

He’d answered one question.

Haera was alive, or at least he hadn’t killed her.

Apparently he’d do Madeleine no such courtesy.

Hail Mary, full of grace .

Her lips moved silently around the familiar words even as she trembled from head to toe.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

“Hello, Madeleine.”

His voice might have been right in her ear.

Madeleine stepped back from the door, her eyes going to the glass panels at her eye height.

There were only four of them, and they were small—not enough to break and get into the cottage.

They were, however, large enough to see the horse’s eyes looking right at her.

“She’s not in there, is she?”

Madeleine and Asgall stared at each other.

Her mouth was as dry as if she’d swallowed half the ocean.

“She’d come out if she were. She cannot allow another to hurt you. I heard what she said to you on the shore.”

What?

“I’m there fairly often, you know. It’s not difficult to conceal myself. I saw her standing before you in her true form as well, on another night. Ready to push you into the sea, drown you, and eat you.”

Madeleine shook her head mutely.

Haera would never have done that, she’d said so.

“Ah. She’s never told you about that? She must have forgotten.” His rumbling voice growled with scorn.

“Perhaps she was too busy learning about love .”

Oh Lord.

He had been there; he’d seen and heard everything.

Were those the only times they’d been spied on?

Haera had been reluctant to walk on the shore but had convinced herself otherwise, for Madeleine’s sake.

Madeleine should have paid attention to Haera’s instincts, not her own.

She kept looking into his eyes.

Maybe that was wrongheaded—he might take it as a challenge—but this thing had tried to kill Haera and might be set on doing it again.

She wasn’t about to cower before him.

“What do you want from us?”

Asgall’s laugh had no joy in it, but it was a nightmare breed of horse and man, both of them cruel.

“You say, ‘us.’ As if you share the same life. As if you understand what she wants.”

Madeleine lifted her chin.

Just because his words were confident didn’t mean they were right.

“I’m pretty sure I understand Haera more than you do. It seems you weren’t exactly close.”

“True. She was always a fool. Why our father indulged her, I’ll never know.” Asgall slowly backed away from the door.

One step, two, three.

Was he leaving? Would that be a good thing, or was he going to find Haera?

Either way, it gave Madeleine a better look at him as the sky began to lighten in the storm’s retreat.

His hide seemed to shift from black to dark blue, depending on how he moved.

His head was longer than Haera’s, his body larger by several…

inches, or whatever you used to measure horses, she didn’t remember, she couldn’t remember anything.

“Still,” he continued, “we had something in common. A desire to take flight and unleash the storm.” His dark tail swished.

“Did she tell you about the Stormhorses?”

Madeleine swallowed.

“Yes. I take it that some of them just passed overhead?”

“You take it correctly.” When Madeleine flinched, he snorted again.

“Calm yourself. Calder died several tides ago. None of the others save our mother know her human form.”

“You never told them?” she asked in astonishment.

“Not you or your mother? And…isn’t it a risk for you to come on land too, if they could see you from the sky?”

“My mother’s motives are her own. As for me—some chances are worth taking, as is cloud cover. Why should I want anyone else to have what is mine? That’s something else Haera understands.”

Jonathan had told Madeleine that some things were put into your keeping.

He’d been right. “We both understand it.” She thought of Haera’s family savaging her, how lonely Haera had been in the herd.

“Better than your kind ever could.”

Asgall tilted his head.

His eyes held an uncanny intelligence.

No one could ever mistake him for an ordinary horse.

“So,” he said, “she is not ‘my kind’ any longer?”

“You should go,” Madeleine said, shaking.

“The storm’s passed. Someone might see you. You should go back to the sea and leave us alone. We’re not hurting anyone!”

“Not hurting anyone?” His lips pulled back.

His teeth were bigger than Haera’s too, and just as pointed.

Made to rend flesh and scale.

“A human would think so. It’s time for my sister to pay me back. Tonight, I’ll finally take what I want.”

Madeleine’s fists clenched.

“And what is?—”

“After I take what she wants, first.”

He turned around and kicked the door with his hind legs, so hard the wood groaned as if he’d knocked the breath out of it.

The cottage itself seemed to shake.

The whole door shuddered with the first kick, and a long crack appeared with the second.

The new, strong iron hinge on the door creaked and began to bend.

Madeleine fled, although there wasn’t anywhere to go.

She could hide in the bedroom, but that door was much flimsier, and he’d find her right away—it would gain her a few seconds, perhaps.

It’d be even more useless to run outside, where he’d chase her down in moments.

There was a block of knives in the kitchen.

Shaking and hot with adrenaline, she grabbed the butcher knife.

Why did she have to shake?

Wasn’t adrenaline supposed to make you strong and sure, like those stories of women picking up cars to save a child?

Madeleine had the wrong kind of adrenaline.

She was about to rattle into pieces.

Asgall kicked again, and his back hooves appeared through a crack in the wood.

His next blow would finish the door.

Madeleine backed away, holding out the knife with both hands, for all the good it’d do her.

She’d be lucky to get within striking distance before he cut her down.

Would he make it quick?

Or would she suffer as he ripped her limb from limb?

Hail Mary, full of grace ?—

Someone screamed outside.

It was so wild and loud that Madeleine dropped the knife.

That wasn’t a human scream, but an animal cry of fury, and again, she heard something galloping around the cottage.

Haera.

“Oh God.” Madeleine grabbed the knife, her hand shaking so badly she almost dropped it again.

“Oh God, oh God.”

Moments later, Haera cried out again, wordlessly: a ringing bell of challenge that Asgall answered with his own bellow.

Madeleine dashed to the door, in which Asgall had kicked a substantial hole.

She looked through to see Haera and Asgall facing each other on their hind legs, their front hooves kicking the air.

They hadn’t made contact yet.

Maybe it was just posturing, Haera warning Asgall away.

Maybe he’d come to his senses and actually go.

Asgall lunged, so quickly Madeleine could barely track it.

His hooves struck Haera’s chest and she staggered backward, turning enough to show he’d drawn blood.

Their hooves must be sharp as razors, just like their teeth, they could hurt each other so badly, he could hurt Haera so badly?—

“Please,” Madeleine moaned, to any god out there who might listen.

“Please, no.”

Haera shrieked and turned around.

When Asgall immediately went for her hindquarters, she kicked backward.

He staggered, and Haera whipped back around, snapping at his neck.

She must have bitten him; he yowled.

When she darted away before he could bite her too, her muzzle was bloody.

The siblings circled each other, snarling and panting, going up and down on their hind legs.

Air steamed from their nostrils.

Asgall’s eyes flashed red in his dark face, and Haera’s eyes glowed golden as the sun.

They were massive in their size and power as they attacked each other again, and this time, Asgall got his teeth in Haera’s mane, between her shoulders.

Then everything happened fast. Haera shrieked again and butted him with her head, but it was too late.

Asgall bowled her over, pushing her down to the ground on her side.

Then he was atop her, his teeth fastened to the back of her neck while she screamed and kicked him.

She drew more blood from his hide, but it wasn’t enough.

He was too big, too furious.

Madeleine yanked the door handle.

Why wasn’t it opening?

Oh, right, she’d thrown the bolt, Asgall hadn’t broken that, she had to unlock it, had to rush out there with her pathetic knife and do something .

Asgall didn’t look up when she charged through the door.

He was focused on Haera.

Maybe Madeleine could get in one stab or something—or at least startle him so he’d pull away?—

“Stop!”

Madeleine turned.

Jonathan was running toward them, his gait unsteady and effortful.

Maybe that was because he was clutching a shotgun across his chest.

They used a gun to put down sheep, she remembered dizzily.

Connor had told her that.

She hadn’t wanted to think about it.

Asgall cried out. Jonathan’s arrival must have distracted him, and Haera had bitten his neck.

When he reared back, she rolled up and slammed her head into him, driving him away enough that she could stagger to her feet.

Asgall backed away, looking at her, his teeth bared.

Haera lowered her head, clearly ready to charge again.

“I said stop !” Jonathan yelled, as he came to a stop himself, by the corner of the cottage.

His face was red, and his chest heaved.

“The both of you! Stop!”

Asgall took one step backward, and then another, looking back and forth between Haera and Jonathan.

Haera remained still.

Her legs shook, and she seemed to be keeping weight off the front left one.

She bled from her back, where he must have sunk his teeth in.

And he’d rolled her over, leaned on top of her with his weight—had he broken any of her ribs?

Whatever he’d done, she was hurt, that was clear.

Otherwise, she’d ignore Jonathan’s order not to attack.

Madeleine could feel the rage coming from her, had heard it in every snarl and scream.

Asgall’s rage, however, seemed to have banked.

He seemed, moreover, to have forgotten Haera existed.

He looked only at Jonathan, who looked back at him, bent over and breathing heavily.

“Leave her be,” Jonathan said between gasps.

“Leave us all. Oh fuck, it’s really you. I knew it—the lights went out, and somehow I knew—” He groaned.

“Fuck off. Go.”

“Why would you say that?” Asgall asked.

He was panting too. “When you’ve called to me for so long?”

Madeleine’s mouth fell open, because that could only mean one thing.

Asgall was the Each-uisge Jonathan had known?

Haera’s own brother? Why had neither of them told her that?

Jonathan shook his head.

The rain came down on his jacket, on his bare head.

It soaked into Madeleine’s hair and clothes too.

“It’s you who’s been calling me. Haven’t you? With the dreams? The other day, I woke up standing outside—because I heard a voice, I heard your bloody voice.”

Asgall pawed the mud with one hoof.

“We call to one another—you and I. It’s always so when our kind bonds with yours. I expect my sister and her victim are the same.”

“Victim?” Madeleine blurted.

“She’s not,” Jonathan said.

He hefted the shotgun and cradled it to his chest, not aiming it.

It looked heavy in his arms. “Haera’s not you, and Madeleine’s not me, and I won’t let you hurt them. I’ll shoot you first. I swear to Christ I will.”

Asgall laughed.

It sounded as awful as the first time.

“Madeleine isn’t like you? So my sister never told you the truth. Of course she didn’t.”

“Shut up,” Haera snarled.

“Get out before he kills you or you’re seen. Or don’t you care anymore about exposing the herd?”

“A fine accusation for you to make. How many lies have you told them about us?” Asgall turned to Madeleine.

“Let’s find out.”

“Shut up!” Haera repeated.

“Madeleine, go back inside!”

“I won’t leave you,” Madeleine said hoarsely.

Something pressed against her chest, and she realized she was clutching the butcher knife there with both hands, just as Jonathan held his shotgun.

“I’m not afraid of what you are. You can—you can—” She clutched the knife even tighter.

“You can change in front of me, you can do anything, I don’t care. Just as soon as he’s gone.”

“What’s going to chase me away?” Now Asgall’s voice was low, mocking.

“That mighty blade of yours? The truth will cut you worse.”

“Haera’s told me the truth.” Even though Madeleine’s courage was arriving later than she’d have liked it to—probably because someone was here with a gun—at least it had come.

“I know everything.”

“Madeleine,” Haera said.

“Everything,” Asgall repeated.

“Like the Stormhorses.”

“Like the Stormhorses,” Madeleine said between her teeth.

“And I’ve kept it to myself, because I’d never betray?—”

“And how I want to be one—as does she?” Asgall looked at Jonathan.

“Do you know how Stormhorses come to be?”

Haera tried to charge Asgall again, but she staggered and groaned.

How could they treat her injuries once Asgall finally left?

Because he had to leave, with Jonathan’s shotgun, with the danger of discovery.

But afterward, Madeleine and Jonathan couldn’t exactly call a veterinarian.

If Haera changed back into her human form, what would happen to her wounds?

“Get out,” Jonathan said, but he still didn’t point the gun at anything.

“Go back to the sea, you bastard, you’re the one who tells lies—you told me nothing but lies!”

Asgall bared his sharp teeth.

“I told you lies and truths then, when you were beautiful. Now you’re a pitiful old…” He stomped his front hoof again and shook his head wildly.

“A pitiful old man, I thought I saw you on the shore not long ago—just wandering along, head bent, it wasn’t you, but it could have been...”

An old man on the shore?