14

Lachlan

I watch as shock passes across her features; her eyes go round and her lips part, and she’s looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head. My own chest rises and falls too quickly, my breaths coming short as the old wound of my anger bubbles inside. It doesn’t seem fair that Key got to grow up away from all this, that she’s spent her entire life blissfully ignorant of what her family did to mine—but then again, why do I feel so much more strongly about it with her than I have with any other MacKay I’ve met? It’s not as if Finlay or Rhona or even Brodie have any idea what happens to the Greer sons at night. So why do I feel so angry that Keyanna has gotten to live without this burden?

“I…” Her eyes fall to the ground, her lips pressing together and her nose wrinkling in thought, and I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “Are you sure?”

I can’t help the harsh laugh that escapes me. “Aye, I’m pretty fucking sure. Not a detail one tends to forget.”

“But how can that be possible?”

“My ancestor managed to capture the kelpie after she cursed him. He locked her away. Tried to force her to take it back. She was there for a year, they say, before someone set her free. Before someone gave her back her bridle and let her escape into the night, taking with her any chance of fixing what she’d done.”

“And that person was…”

“Your great-great-something-or-other,” he says. “A stable hand, they say. They say he married her. That she gave him a son. Her blood runs through your veins.”

I expect her to deny it, or at the very least refute the idea of it, so what she does next takes me by the utmost surprise.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, her voice actually full of regret. “That’s terrible.”

“It is,” I manage, almost like a question because I’m still stunned by her reaction.

“God, Lachlan…your entire family? And then your dad…Wow. I can’t even imagine.”

I can feel something unwinding in my chest with every word she says, almost like her apology carries the weight of all the MacKays, as ridiculous as that notion is. Maybe it just feels good to tell someone and have them confirm how fucked up it all is. How terrible a life we’ve been forced to live. Or maybe it’s just the mournful way she says it, like she actually cares.

“I…” I feel like a fish with the way my mouth opens and closes while I try to remember how to use words. “Thank you,” I manage finally. “I appreciate that.”

She looks up at me with that same fire in her eyes that I saw in my kitchen, nodding once as if confirming something to herself before she takes a step closer to me. I startle as she grabs my hand, holding it in her smaller ones and clutching it tight as she regards me seriously.

“All this does is prove to me that I’m supposed to help you. If it really was the MacKays that cursed your family, then maybe it’s the MacKays that have to help you undo it.”

I almost tell her everything, but something holds me back. Maybe I don’t trust her enough yet, or maybe I’m enjoying the look of determination on her face, and I’m not quite ready to snuff it out just yet.

She must realize that she’s still holding my hand, a fact that I haven’t been able to distract myself from since the moment she reached for it, given how warm her hands are, because suddenly she goes pink in the cheeks and lets me go. She clears her throat and takes a slight step back, averting her eyes.

“Anyway.” She shuffles her weight from one foot to the other. “Kelpies, huh?”

I swallow, ignoring the tingling in my hand. “If you believe the legends.”

“And I suppose we do, right?”

I cock a brow. “We?”

“Well, yeah,” she says in a way that feels more like a question than an assertion. “I mean, we’re in this together now, aren’t we?”

It seems ridiculous, impossible even, that I would be standing here with a member of the family that thrust mine into ruin and considering accepting her attempts at bullying me into allowing her to help me—and yet that’s exactly what I’m doing, as asinine as it might prove to be. Because for whatever reason, and regardless of how little, I realize at this moment that I do trust Keyanna. I can’t say why, can’t even give a solid reasoning as to why I should even begin to, but I do. I can feel it, how she won’t go back on her word. How much she actually wants to help.

Maybe that’s why I open my stupid mouth.

“Aye,” I answer softly. “I reckon we are.”

Her answering smile punches through me like an actual blow; it’s wide and bright and full of a joy she’s never directed at me. Her wee bunny teeth draw my eye, and I have an insane, fleeting curiosity as to what they might feel like against my tongue.

Get it together, you numpty.

I shake the thought away, taking a deep breath and letting it out before glancing between the trees, where the sun still seems to be high in the sky. I wager I have a few more good hours before it starts to sink.

“We should get out of here,” I tell her.

“Out of the creepy graveyard?” Her voice is laced with sarcasm. “But I was so enjoying my time here.”

I roll my eyes. “Still a pain in my arse, even when you’re my ally.”

“Only for you, Nessie,” she teases.

Nothing about that should make my stomach flutter, and I practically snort at my traitorous body for daring to do so. I shake my head, stomping past her as I toss over my shoulder, “Let’s grab a drink at the pub. We can talk more there.”

I hear her scurrying behind me, her boots crunching the leaves beneath her feet as she catches up. “Hey, Lachlan?”

“Hm?”

Her voice lowers as if she’s uttering an important secret. “Does that mean I’m going to turn into a horse?”

My answering boom of a laugh is worth every bit of her scowling.

---

“So a pech is like…a gnome?”

I chuckle into my glass at Key’s confused expression as Rory and Blair try to explain the origins of the name of the pub.

“Aye,” Rory tells her. “Wee folk. Tiny things, but incredibly strong, see?”

She leans to prop her chin on her fist. “But why The Clever Pech?”

“That’s a good story,” Blair says, cleaning another glass. “It’s an auld folktale we heard as weans. About this clever wee pech that challenged the strongest man in the village—a giant, they say—to a test of strength in exchange for their firstborn.”

“I’m guessing he won,” Key notes.

“He did,” Blair goes on. “The giant man underestimated him, aye? Got knocked on his arse, which I imagine left him right embarrassed. Threatened to come after the pech with the force of the entire village for tricking him.”

Rory slams his hands on the bar excitably. “So the pech gave him a test!”

“Hush.” Blair playfully slaps Rory’s shoulder with her dish towel. “You don’t tell it right.”

Key looks thoroughly enraptured now. “What kind of test?”

“The pech told the giant he could keep his babe if he could guess his name,” Blair says.

Key’s nose scrunches, and I try not to linger on how sweet an expression it is. “Wait. This sounds a lot like Rumpelstiltskin.”

“Damn thieving Grimm brothers,” Rory mutters.

“So,” Key presses. “Did he guess his name?”

“Nope.” Blair shakes her head. “Ran off with the babe and raised it as his own. They say the girl grew as tall as her giant father and could be seen stomping through the lands with the pech on her shoulder.”

“It was a girl?”

“That’s what they say.”

Another nose scrunch. “That’s not a very good ending.”

“Not everything has a happy ending, mate,” Blair tells her.

I snort into my drink. “Most don’t, in my experience.”

Keyanna glances my way with sympathy in her eyes, and I realize that I’m not quite yet used to the idea of her being anything more than my supposed downfall, if my da is to be believed. It’s been easy to dislike her when all she was to me was a potential enemy—but the Key who looks at me with compassion shining out from her emerald depths is someone I definitely don’t know how to deal with.

“Well,” Rory says with a smirk. “Now that you’ve got some real brains on the operation.”

He looks proud of himself as he gestures to Key, and I arch an eyebrow in his direction. “You realize that you just called yourself an eejit more or less, right?”

“I…” Rory frowns, then waves his hand in front of his face as if to clear the thought. “Oh, you know what I mean. Surely having a woman on the inside can only help you, aye?”

“And how do you guys know about this anyway?” she asks pointedly.

“This one”—Blair hitches a thumb in my direction—“changed right in front of us.”

Key’s head swivels toward me. “Really?”

“I was just a lad,” I explain. “We knew I would eventually start to change, but there’s no set day. I was usually more careful about where I was around sunset, but the three of us got caught in a storm one evening.”

“Imagine how terrifying it is to be stuck in an auld barn with a giant lizard,” Rory scoffs.

“How old were you?”

“Twelve?” Blair answers her. “Thirteen? Young enough that we about pissed ourselves.”

“And you’re the only ones who know?”

I nod at Key. “Now that my granny has passed, aye.”

“And none of you have ever figured it out?”

All three of us shake our heads.

“I’m not really sure how much help I can actually be,” Key admits nervously. “My grandmother just decided she doesn’t totally hate my guts.”

“Och,” Blair tsks. “Hadn’t thought of that. Still. You’re a right ways less suspicious than this lot”—she jerks a thumb in my direction—“if you go digging around the property.”

“True,” Key agrees, her expression contemplative. “Do we even know what we’re looking for?”

“The bridle, of course,” Rory chimes in.

Key turns her head to look at me with a furrowed brow. “It really exists?”

“For my sake, I hope so,” I scoff.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“How could I possibly know?” I set my glass on the bar top, turning on my stool. “It’s not like someone left me a set of instructions. All I know is that the story says the bridle is what got us cursed, so surely the bridle can undo it.”

“What about Key?”

Everyone swivels their head toward Rory, staring back at us with his head cocked.

I look at her and find her just as confused as I am. “What about her?”

“You said she saved you,” Rory points out. “At the cove. You think she’s got a bit of that kelpie witchcraft in her?”

“I—” My mouth closes just as soon as it opens, my lips turning down as I consider. “She doesn’t even know how she did that.”

“It’s true,” Key adds. “I’m not sure how I did any of the things that have been happening since I showed up here.”

“Right, and she—wait, what?” I lean in closer, narrowing my eyes. “What do you mean ‘any of the things’? What else has been happening?”

“Well, I can’t be sure”—she rubs at her arm—“but there was this thing with a window opening after I couldn’t get it to budge, and of course there’s the whole healing thing, and then…” She shakes her head. “It sounds insane, but I may have made it stop raining the other day.”

“You made it stop raining,” I echo.

She shrugs. “I mean, I asked it to stop, and it just…did?”

“And that didn’t strike you as odd?”

“I thought it was just a coincidence!”

I mull this information over in my head, an inkling of possibility trickling through my thoughts, but then I clear it away with a firm shake of my head. “We can’t be counting on whatever is happening to Key. Not without knowing more about it. Especially since she can’t control it. The bridle is our best bet.”

“So,” Key says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Where are we supposed to look for it?”

“I’ve already been through Rhona’s attic—”

Key makes an indignant sound. “You went snooping in my grandmother’s attic?”

“I think I’ve more than earned the right, all things considered,” I snap.

Key narrows her eyes. “Point taken.”

“Regardless, I didn’t see anything of note, but there’s so much stored up there…I could have missed something. Haven’t found anything in any of the wee rundown buildings around the farm either.”

“What about the auld Greer castle?” Blair asks.

Key perks up. “Castle?”

“Belonged to my ancestor,” I tell her. “There’s nothing there. I’ve searched all over that place.”

“But not with Key,” Rory urges. “Maybe her kelpie magic will pick up on the scent of something.”

“She’s not a bloody hound,” I snort.

“I mean…it couldn’t hurt,” Key says.

I peer at her suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not just wanting to see the place as some sort of tourist excursion?”

“Oh, fuck you,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. “Like any of this trip has been at all a holiday. I haven’t done a single touristy thing since I got here!”

Rory raises a finger. “You did visit Loch La—”

Key shoots him a glare.

“Never mind,” he finishes.

“We have to start somewhere,” Key urges. “I just know I’m here for a reason. I can feel it.”

“It’s a two-hour walk,” I tell her. “Land is too rough that way to go by car.”

“I can walk,” she answers eagerly.

I rub my lower lip, frowning. It feels pointless to visit a place I’ve already crawled all over a dozen times before, but I can’t help wondering if perhaps there is something I missed. Something that Key and her strange, burgeoning magic might uncover. The possibility is enough to shoot a tiny thrill through my stomach, but I don’t let it show. I don’t want her to realize just yet how desperate I am. It would only frighten her.

“S’pose it can’t hurt,” I sigh. “But it really is a hell of a walk.”

She juts out her chin in this petulant, adorable way, and just thinking of her as adorable has me reeling, because I should be holding this woman at arm’s length. And yet, here I am, signing up to go trekking across the countryside while she most likely complains the entire time. My da would think I was completely mental if he knew.

I ignore the pang in my chest at the thought of my father.

I’ll save him. It can’t be too late.

“All right,” I concede wearily. “I guess we’re going on a hike, then.”

“Right now?”

“In the morning. There’s not enough time today. I have to get back and check on the cows.”

“Oh.”

That look is in her eye again, and I’m not quite sure I like the way it makes me feel. Almost like I should be comforting her. Mental, I tell you.

“You just be ready for me at sunrise,” I tell her. “You can meet me at the cove.”

Her sympathetic expression morphs into a smirk. “Will you be clothed this time, at least?”

“I’m sorry,” Blair interjects. “Come again?”

I roll my eyes. “Never you mind.” To Key, I add, “I’ll try to make sure I’m decent.” My lip quirks. “I’m sure you’ll be very disappointed by it.”

The slight pinkening of her cheeks is admittedly lovely, and I wonder if it’s possible that I actually enjoy making her so irritated. Almost like this odd back-and-forth between us is…fun.

Her eyes glitter with amusement. “In your dreams, Nessie.”

On second thought…