Page 5 of Alec

Chapter Two

Alec McKeran heard nothing as he walked the passages of Dun Talamh. No one who crossed his path bothered to speak to him, either. He told himself he preferred that, and it was partly true, for he had never bothered to cultivate a sociable character. If he could live out his life alone in this facking spell trap he would, for only in complete solitude could he be at ease. Instead, he was imprisoned with his clan, the other half-mortal sons of the Fae hunter-warrior Keran and his female human lovers. They were many, thanks to their sire sowing his seed across the length and breadth of Scotland for centuries before being killed in a battle with a storm demon.

What most embittered Alec was knowing his Fae sire had never returned to Ebrel of Stranraer, Alec’s mortal màthair, or ever once bothered to meet his son by her. Keran probably hadn’t cared what had happened to either of them.

A maid hauling a steaming water bucket stopped and bobbed, giving him a long, wistful look before she scurried away. Thanks to his face, a great many wenches in the stronghold dreamed of someday finding their way into Alec’s bed. It disgusted him to be the object of admiration and desire. For years and years shepherds and village lads had punished him often for attracting their females. His grandsire, who had many other reasons to despise him, had always assumed his blatant prettiness meant he also possessed a woman’s desires.

You wee flaming bawsack. I’d geld you with a dull blade before I’d let you touch another lad.

Since Alec refused to share his bed with anyone, and rarely slept well, he spent most of his nights pacing the passages of his clan’s castle. Looking for any sign of weakness in the enchantment that held them imprisoned had turned up nothing, but that wasn’t really his purpose. Walking tired him enough to permit him a few hours of sleep before dawn. Escaping the ugly memories of his youth had always proved impossible, but giving his restless brain something more to do than brood also helped better leash his short temper. Darro, the laird’s second and the clan’s peacemaker, had often reminded him that he could not exist on anger and suspicion alone.

Someday, Brother, you shall settle all your scores, the chieftain had once predicted. Then what ’twill be left to occupy your time?

Alec had shrugged, unconcerned. Unless you’ve the means to bring back the dead, never shall I settle any of them.

At the end of his rounds, he always checked the entry to the spell trap, as it was the one and only connection Dun Talamh had to the outside world, where the castle also existed. Nothing could escape once on this side, but now and then birds, animals and even people wandered into the trap. Those of the modern world, known by the clan as outsiders, did their best to adjust to their new life at the stronghold. Nearly all of them remained convinced that there had to be a way to return to their world. Most didn’t accept that they had been made immortal by the spell trapping them with the clan and would likely spend all eternity at the stronghold. They regularly held meetings among themselves to offer ideas on how to end the curse, although every one of their notions had ended in failure.

Their forlorn hopes also spurred Alec’s nightly searches, for he knew the outsiders didn’t deserve this fate any more than the clan did.

Last month a law woman named Ava Travars had come through while pursuing a killer hiding among their vassals. Upon discovering and cornering her target, the FBI agent had been drugged and nearly dropped into a smelting furnace to burn alive. At the last moment Tasgall McKeran had intervened, saving Ava and sending the killer instead to that grim demise. As no outsider had ever died inside the spell trap, Alec had almost expected to find the murderess resurrected the next morning. Yet she had never returned to life. Before he could warn the laird about concealing the killer’s fate, however, word spread throughout the stronghold. Now all knew one could die by casting themselves into a furnace.

Although such an end should have frightened anyone too much to attempt it, Alec worried that they would begin losing those too despondent to go on.

Stopping at the end of the passage that led to the spell trap’s entry point, he saw nothing to indicate anyone or anything had come through. That, too, was another worry, as shortly after Ava’s arrival, giant caterpillars had appeared, hunting, stunning and cocooning the clan and their vassals. Since ordinary insects could not survive in the spell trap it seemed obvious that someone on the outside had enchanted the creatures, but for what reason? If it had been the same one who had cursed the clan, why attack those incapable of escaping their prison? Was it not enough to force them to relive the events of a terrible year forever?

The air in front of the entry rippled, and Alec frowned as he moved closer. He could smell an odor of sickening decay now. The stone in front of his boots seemed to shift, and a large, black hole appeared in the floor. A pebble-sized hailstone shot out and tumbled across the passage floor. A moment later a small mortal body came hurtling up out of the darkness. Alec caught the child before leaping back from the edge.

The tiny female lifted one bloody hand to cover her eyes and said something, her limbs trembling wildly. A huge bruise on her jaw quickly paled and disappeared.

Alec could not hear her words or any sound until sunrise, thanks to the night deafness his mortal blood had plagued him with since birth. Telling her he would not be able to understand her until dawn would only frighten her more. She clutched him about the neck so tightly he couldn’t take a breath, not that it would harm him. Very little could inflict injury on him, thanks to his sire’s Fae blood, and she weighed only as much as a sack of goose feathers. Holding the delicate wee thing made his heart clench.

A bairn now, come to this cursed place where she should never grow another inch, nor age a single day. Gods, but he wished he could send her back to her world.

The child’s body seemed to be stretching, as if she were trying to free herself from his hold. Gently Alec placed the girl on her feet and knelt down before her, but then she clutched him again. He disliked being touched by females, and had never once been embraced like this, but he suffered no disgust. Perhaps it was due to the way she shook, her arms and legs jerking, that tugged at his heart.

I shall protect her.

Her long red-brown hair spilled over her face and shoulders like maypole ribbons, and she smelled of white lilies in full bloom. The longer he held her, the more she seemed to weigh against him. That yielding softness of her and her lovely scent made him wish she might hold onto him for the rest of the night. At once he grew appalled over his own yearning. The girl had not yet come into her womanhood, and now that she had been imprisoned in the spell trap, she never would. He could never have any sort of closeness with her.

“Calm yourself, lass.” Awkwardly he patted her narrow back with his hands.

Pulling her arms down, the girl took a step back, her eyes wide as she looked around them. Torchlight now revealed her mature features and the sweet, unmistakable curves of her body. She also looked much taller, her arms and legs long and graceful.

Alec could not quite believe what he was seeing. She had arrived as a child only to grow in a few moments into a woman?

It did not seem possible, for the small form he’d seen fall into the trap should have barely reached his elbow. Now she appeared at least ten handspans taller, and her body shape made it clear that she was no bairn. She also seemed to be dressed in garments far too small for her, and splits had appeared all over the odd slippers she wore. Then it dawned on him what had happened. Thanks to the enchantment in the spell trap, those who came in from the outside were healed of all injuries. Her diminutive size must have been due to an illness she’d suffered.

Yet how could he explain such to her? She didn’t know the simple hand signs the clan used with him during the nights. If she asked him anything, he would be unable to hear her words.

Seemingly unaware of how stunned he was or the changes to her body, the lass moved her hands expressively as she spoke. Already the blood was drying on her fingers, which appeared long and slender. She stopped and stared at them, and then noticed the hole in the floor. Skittering back, she turned and hurled herself into Alec’s arms again.

“’Twill be well now, lass,” he said as vibrations against his neck told him she was sobbing. “I have you.”

Alec knew he should carry her to the great hall and summon the laird, but her violent trembling and the tears soaking the shoulder of his tunic persuaded him to take a different direction. As he climbed up the stairs, a broad-shouldered silhouette appeared on the steps above him. Farlan McKeran, the clan’s seneschal, grinned as he saw him, but then sobered as he saw the woman Alec carried. His concern showed in his gaze as it shifted over them both.

“She’s just come through, and she’s terrified out of her wits, so dinnae come near.” He jerked his chin in the direction he meant to take. “I’ll keep her with me in my stronghold chamber. Bid Ben come straight away, and Lady Ava.”

Farlan nodded and ran off toward the infirmary.