Chapter 23 #2
The Beithir twisted, trying to shake off the Kelpies, trying to reach me, but they were relentless. Murdoch and the crows continued their assault from above, a constant harassment that kept the creature off-balance.
“Enough!”
The Beithir’s roar shook the island to its foundations. Lightning exploded from its body in all directions, and for a moment everything went white—the Kelpies scattered, the crows tumbled through the air, and I threw myself flat against the rocks with my hands over my head.
When I looked up, the Beithir was staring at me.
But something had changed in its eyes.
Aye, the rage was still there, but beneath it—beneath his fury and grief—something cracked. Even so, I wasn’t sure there’d be enough time. The Kelpies were regrouping, circling back, preparing for another assault. The crows cawed from high above seemingly ready to dive again.
And the Beithir ... the Beithir looked at the Kelpies like it was seeing them for the first time.
“They protect the Stone,” it said slowly. His voice rumbled through me. “They are not my guardians.”
“They serve the truth,” I said, pushing myself up onto my knees. “That’s what they’ve always done.”
“And I ...” The creature’s voice faltered. “I thought they were mine. I thought their hunger for Wright blood was loyalty to my father’s memory. But it was never that. It was always ...”
“The Cailleach,” I finished. “She corrupted everything. She turned guardians into monsters and protectors into executioners.”
The Beithir was silent.
The Kelpies held their positions, waiting. The crows circled overhead, Murdoch’s harsh cry echoing across the water.
“I have been a fool,” the Beithir said finally.
“You were lied to.” I squeezed my hands into fists, my nails digging so deeply into my palms that I was certain I was drawing blood.
Graham had been in the loch far too long. Goddess, please don’t let him die. Please.
“That does not excuse what I have done. What I have sustained.” Its massive head turned toward the Kelpies, toward the dark shapes hovering in the water. “They tried to tell me. They pushed back against the curse even as they were forced to serve it. And I ... I did not see.”
“You see now.”
“Aye.” The word came out heavy with exhaustion and sorrow. “I see now.”
The Beithir sank lower in the water, its great body seeming to deflate. The lightning faded from its scales. The fire dimmed in its eyes.
“Your man,” it said. “He still lives.”
My heart stopped. “He … he’s alive?” I couldn’t let hope bloom. Not to just have it shattered if the Beithir was lying to me.
“I’ve held him … beneath the waves. I was not ready to let him go. Not until I understood.”
“Where is he? How? Is he—”
The Beithir disappeared beneath the surface.
I scrambled to the water’s edge, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. My body shook with terror as I waited, gulping in air. The Kelpies parted, making way, and the loch went still as I waited to see if my future would be forever ruined or not.
Then the water surged, and the Beithir rose again.
Graham hung limp in its coils.
The creature deposited him on the rocks at my feet—not gently, but not cruelly either—and retreated back into the water. Graham lay motionless, his skin pale as death, his lips blue, water streaming from his hair and clothes.
He wasn’t breathing.
“No.” I fell to my knees beside him, my hands finding his face, his chest, searching for any sign of life. “No, no, no—”
I tilted his head back, pinched his nose, breathed into his mouth. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
I pressed on his chest. Hard. Harder.
“Come on, Graham. Come on.” My voice broke. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave me now. Not after everything. Not after—”
I breathed into him again. Pumped his chest again, once more falling into the rhythm of saving his life. My arms were shaking, my ribs screaming in protest, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
“Breathe!” I choked out, my eyes going to where my friends waited across the water. I needed Faelan. How could I get her here in time?
It’s too much.
He’s been under too long.
It was too late.
The Beithir watched from the water.
The Kelpies circled in silence.
The crows settled on the rocks around us, their black eyes fixed on Graham’s still form.
And Gran’s ring, clutched in my bloody hand, began to glow.
I didn’t notice at first, as I was too focused on the rhythm of breathing and pressing and begging the goddess to give him back to me. But the light grew brighter, golden and warm, spreading from the ring to Graham’s chest.
And Graham coughed.
Water erupted from his mouth—so much water, how had there been so much water inside him?—and then he rolled onto his side choking.
Choking, but alive.
“Graham!” I curled around him, not caring about anything except the fact that he was breathing, he was alive. “Oh goddess, Graham—”
“Agnes?” His voice was wrecked, barely a whisper. “What ... what happened?”
“I think I broke the curse.” I couldn’t think straight, instead just helplessly pressed kisses to his forehead, and savored the overwhelming miracle of having him back. “I think it’s over.”
It had to be over. Bloody hell, but it had to be over, because if the Beithir struck again now, we were screwed.
He reached up, his hand trembling, and touched my cheek.
“Hi ya, gorgeous.”
“Now is not the time to flirt,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“You’re a belter, you are, Agnes. You did it,” he said. “You actually did it.”
“I told you I would.” Had I? Nervous, I glanced over my shoulder at the island, but no threat loomed that I could see.
“You bloody infuriating woman. I can’t believe you came out alone.” His voice gained a little strength. “We’re going to have a conversation about that later.”
“Much later.” I kissed his forehead, his nose, his mouth. “We can argue about it for years.”
“You’ll never win an argument with me again, lass. I’ll just bring up how you made the most stupid, impossible, idiotic—”
Above us, the Beithir let out a long breath.
“If you don’t mind?”
“Och, it’s still here?” Graham tried to rear up, but I just held him back, not wanting him to move too quickly.
“It’s okay, just wait,” I said, pressing my lips into his sodden hair.
“The curse is broken,” the Beithir said, its voice rolling across the surface of the loch like distant thunder reaching you after a lightning strike. “Your family is free, wee Bookkeeper.”
I looked up at the massive creature, at the ancient eyes that now held something other than rage. Grief. Shame.
“Thank you.” I wished I could say more, but I’d lost my flair for eloquence when I’d begged for the beast to understand.
“Do not thank me. I sustained the curse for three centuries. I am responsible for every death, every drowning, every moment of suffering your family endured.” The Beithir shifted in the water, its head drooping.
“I was once a great guardian, as all those before me were. And now, I must reflect upon my actions and decisions that have brought me here this day.”
“You didn’t know.” It was the most grace I could give him. So many had been lost because of this curse.
“Ignorance does not excuse my desire for revenge.” The Beithir lowered its head, bringing its eyes level with mine. “But perhaps ... perhaps it can be the beginning of something else. Something better.”