Chapter 22 #2
‘You’re not hurt?’ Lachlan asked. George stared straight through him.
‘I am… unharmed.’ As though his legs would no longer hold him up, George turned and grasped the stirrup on his saddle.
The horse had moved a few paces down the hill, further away from the invisible menace of me, Lachlan and Mal.
It seemed to regard the goat as sanctuary and was trying to hide behind it.
‘He went over the edge,’ Mal said faintly. ‘Just… fell.’
‘Is he dead?’ Lachlan tried to lean over to see, but I gripped hold of him and wouldn’t let him step off the path for a better look.
‘If he’s not, I bet he wishes he was,’ Mal said with a return to his usual waspishness.
‘And he’d better be a good swimmer. Also possibly be wearing an Iron Man suit or have a working knowledge of submersibles.
No, Lachlan, I think he’s dead.’ The wobble in his voice gave away the shock that his words did their best to conceal.
George was slumped against the horse. The goat was regarding them both with an expression of utter disdain, but at least seemed to have been dissuaded from a further attack on Mal.
‘Jamie wanted to kill me.’ George’s voice was weak.
‘I would never… what am I to tell Isobel?’ A shaky arm passed over his eyes.
‘Jamie…’ His voice was trembling now. ‘Oh, Jamie lad, what did I ever do to you?’
‘I think we ought to go back up to the castle,’ I said, trying to sound as though I had any authority here. ‘You can’t ride on until you’re feeling a bit more… until you’ve got over this.’
‘Aye.’ Still gripping the stirrup, George turned his horse’s head.
It was reluctant to walk on while we stood there, so Mal, Lachlan and I went on ahead up the slope and back through the postern, where George’s re-emergence after his leaving came as some surprise to the occupants, who had clearly heard nothing of what had gone on on the track.
‘My lord?’ Fergus came running up. ‘What ails ye?’
George let go of the horse and Fergus took the bridle. ‘There has been… an accident,’ George said carefully. ‘Yes. An accident. Jamie Kintail has fallen to the sea below us.’
There was a moment of muttering and a few looked around and then crossed themselves. Fergus called to Jeannie and she came bustling over, took one look at George and went off again, returning a moment later with Kenna.
‘The earl needs a draught,’ Kenna said, looking at George. ‘I’ll just fetch my herbs and make up a wee potion.’
Kaylinn and David, still grey-faced although not hanging onto one another now, came over to us.
‘Did he…?’ David asked.
‘Yes,’ Mal replied.
‘Did you…?’
‘No. It was the goat.’
‘We couldn’t see what happened,’ Kaylinn explained. ‘There seemed to be a lot going on down there.’
I looked over to where George was sitting now on one of the castle steps. Cellar Dog had gone over and was dribbling on him, which George seemed to regard as vaguely comforting. He fondled the dog’s ears while staring straight ahead as though hypnotised.
‘He’s in shock,’ I said. ‘I’m going to talk to him.’
‘Yes, because the presence of an intangible demon from another time is just what you need to cheer you up after a near-death experience.’ Mal had clearly recovered from his own shock. ‘And, for the record, my hand is burning like a bastard.’ He unclenched his fist to reveal a blistering palm.
‘Grabbing the barrel of a gun is not the most sensible idea,’ Lachlan observed and Mal gave him a look of such heavy sarcasm that it almost fell off his face.
‘Yes. Thanks. Ten minutes ago that would have been great advice. Now it just comes over as smug, and, seriously? When everyone is shouting “Stop him, Mal!” I was running low on options.’
‘Good move luring the goat though,’ I said. ‘And you did an amazing job getting to George so fast.’
‘No commendations on my bravery?’
‘Any bullets would probably have gone straight through you,’ Lachlan said, clearly not sounding quite certain enough to reassure Mal. ‘I don’t think we can die, because of the paradox it would create. But I’m glad we didn’t have to test that theory.’
Mal just rolled his eyes and went back to nursing his hand. I left them all to it and approached George, who had lost some of the worst of the green tinge to his face but was still glassy eyed.
‘You’re sure you’re all right?’ I asked him.
He glanced around, making sure that nobody was watching. Nobody was – all the workers were treating an earl collapsing outside his own castle following the ‘accidental’ death of his brother-in-law as an everyday occurrence and getting on with their various tasks.
‘I’m not altogether certain,’ George said, his voice low and his eyes fixed on the horizon. ‘But I’m not shot, and for that I must thank you, my demon.’ Now his eyes came back from contemplating the hereafter and rested on my face. ‘I am assuming that you bewitched the goat, yes?’
I thought about explaining the ongoing antagonism between a completely invisible demon and the goat, tried out several sentences in my head, dismissed them and just said, ‘Yes.’