Page 50

Briar

T he taxi dropped me off in the public parking area down the beach from my destination just after twelve thirty. I didn’t quite understand it, but whenever I asked about coming out to Dún Na Farraige, people looked at me with worry.

Even last night, at The Seal and Stag, the pub where I’d found a room, their voices had dropped to hushed whispers when I mentioned Dún Na Farraige, like saying the name too loudly would summon something from the cliffs.

One patron tried to scare me away by mentioning a gentleman who worked there a little over a year ago.

He was killed right outside the walls of the grand estate in a freak accident.

I had pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose and smiled at him. “Are you going to tell me that a stag ripped his throat out?”

The man tilted his head. “ How did you know?”

My voice shook as I spoke. “Just a lucky guess.” I had meant it as a joke, but fear settled at the base of my spine when the man didn’t laugh.

The stories about vampires persisted. But there was something about it—something about the coincidence of the deaths of all these people.

They were years apart, but for stags to kill them all?

It wasn’t an animal that usually hunted humans.

But I suppose if a human tried to harm it, it would protect its family.

I wasn’t a believer, not really. But the pattern was impossible to ignore. If it wasn’t vampires, what was it?

I had left my suitcase at the pub after lunch, where they said they would watch it for the afternoon. Tucked securely inside my backpack, slung over my shoulder, rested the portfolio containing everything I had on Lady Isobel.

The waves rolled onto the shore in a steady, calming pulse, the wind misting my tongue with salt and spray. But the calm was a lie. Overhead, the clouds churned, heavy with warning—as if the sky itself knew something was coming.

I breathed in another lungful of salty air.

Tomorrow, I flew home, back to my life as I had known it.

With this last place of significance in Lady Isobel’s life, I would say goodbye forever to the O’Cillians and find my path ahead.

I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion pressing in on me. So much had changed in so little time.

I paused, the sand shifting under my feet, as I looked out over the harbor.

A harem of seals played in the water, their sleek bodies dipping in and out of the waves with effortless grace.

The woman from the Kirkwall ferry invaded my thoughts, and I couldn’t help but wonder—were they just seals? Or were they something more?

I laughed at myself. Vampires. Finfolk. None of them were real. Stories. That was all they were. Yet part of me wanted to return to a childhood belief that supernatural immortality and fairy worlds existed.

I tore my eyes away from the playful creatures and continued walking.

Within moments, the large manor came into view, perched on the cliffs to my left.

I walked on until I stood below the middle of the structure, looking up at the graying stones.

To my right, hewn into the rock face, an imposing staircase rose from the public beach I stood on, leading to the back of the home.

The ominous Elizabethan manor seemed the perfect abode for Cormac O’Cillian, though I struggled to envision Lorcan at home here.

My eyes followed the stone wall that extended from the house to a copse of trees to the left, their mostly bare branches reaching like decaying fingers to the sky.

Nestled among them, I could just make out the thatched roof of what I assumed was a stone cottage.

How strange it would still stand? A cottage like that should have collapsed long ago.

The manor’s beauty could not be denied, even though the windows remained dark, as though they had been abandoned long ago.

The overlooks stood empty. Would women in gorgeous gowns and men in their tailcoats and cravats have filled them the night Lady Isobel was presented as the Baroness of Blackcairn?

A voice floated past me, soft as the tinkling of bells. “And what have we here?”

I shivered involuntarily, and for a second, my heart slammed into my ribs.

I hadn’t heard anyone approach. The woman who now stood next to me embraced such a dreamlike quality I had to ask myself if she was real.

Her blond—almost white—hair fell in waves over her shoulders, reaching nearly to her waist. Her porcelain skin was eerily smooth, her lips a shade of red I had never seen before.

Her eyes—brilliant gray—mirrored the storm-heavy sky.

“You’re interested in Dún Na Farraige?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve heard stories about it and the O’Cillians. My ancestor was introduced as the Baroness of Blackcairn here.”

My skin prickled, my instincts screaming at me to walk away.

But it wasn’t that easy. I glanced at the formidable stone staircase, my heart thudding.

Beyond it, the cliffs stretched almost to the water, leaving just a small swath of sand to walk on.

I turned to face the woman as she stood between me and the public parking.

A movement on the far overlook above me caught my eye. The man standing there, looked down at us, distracting me. When I looked back, she had moved closer. I cleared my throat, stepping closer to the cliffs, hoping she would walk on. “But I’ve seen it now, so I should go.”

“No, my dear. You won’t.”

She took another step forward, trying to herd me into the rocks. And it was working, I realized, as my mouth went dry, feeling the earth rising behind me.

“Because if you’re looking for them—if you’re trying to learn—then that means you know too much.”

I put my hand out to touch the sharp stones beside me and swallowed air.

What did she mean, I knew too much? I only knew what Cormac and Lorcan had told me.

I tightened my hand into a fist, glancing around.

She blocked my path, the only way back to the parking beyond her. My pulse pounded in my ears.

Her face twisted, and I caught sight of fangs descending from her upper gums just before her snarl reached my ears, and she launched herself at me. Vampire. How was it true that vampires were real?

My breath left me in a strangled gasp, and the world tilted.

This couldn’t be happening. But I didn’t have time to worry about it as she crashed into me, knocking me into the wall.

I struggled, pushing at her face while I kicked my legs, trying to get them between us.

My arms shook with the exertion of holding her head away from me, my fingers digging for her eyes.

My hands pushed into the air, and I fell forward onto my knees with a gasp. My chest heaved, my pulse pounding so loudly it took me a moment to register the sound of her body hitting the ground. A strangled sob came from my core as I clutched at my heart.

I looked up. The man from the overlook stood in front of me, his ginger hair framing his pale face and ocean-blue eyes. He didn’t look at me, his eyes never leaving the vampire pushing herself up from the crumpled heap she had fallen in at the water’s edge.

“How did you get down here so fast?” I gasped out the question.

His eyes flicked briefly to me before returning to the vampire as he extended his hand toward me. “Never mind that. Let’s get you inside.”

I used his steady posture to pull myself up. His grip was firm and solid, as though he knew he had nothing to fear from anything, including the vampire he had just stopped from attacking me—the vampire who was now snarling off to his right.

I tensed beside the man and gripped his hand a little tighter.

Every nerve in me screamed to run, but the man clenched his jaw before he gave my hand a gentle squeeze and turned to face her, bending his arm behind his back so he never broke our connection.

He spread his legs apart, and his shoulders relaxed.

“Enough.” His voice was cold and sharp. “This one is mine.”

His words sent a bolt of something—fear, disbelief, maybe even something darker—straight through me. What did he mean? He shifted his posture to stand fully between the woman and me, blocking her from approaching me as she inched toward us.

She froze and hissed at him. “Why is it you can never abide by the truce?”

He laughed—low and dark. “Because the truce is between you and my parents,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “And we both know that I am more than that.” There was something about the way he spoke, something final, something untouchable—like he existed beyond the rules everyone else had to follow.

I stared at the woman around the man’s broad shoulders, my fingers cradled in his.

“Now,” he continued, “I’m going to get this woman inside.” He dropped my hand as he stepped backward and put an arm around my shoulders, grabbing my bag from the ground where it had fallen. “And you are going to leave.”

His arm tightened around me, steadying me. His words were soft as we took a small step forward. “Come.”

I glanced at her; her face a mixture of fury and disbelief as I let him lead me toward the steps. I didn’t resist his protection. Maybe it was shock, or perhaps something more profound—a silent, instinctive understanding that I was safer with him than alone for now.

I leaned into the man as we walked up the steps rising through the cliff toward the manor, his arm bracing me. My heart pounded.

“You’re shaking, pet.” We reached the door at the top of the steps, and he opened it, gesturing for me to enter.

I swallowed, my brain struggling to comprehend. Fangs. She had fangs. Isobel’s stories were real. The man’s gentle hand on my shoulder brought me back to the here and now.