Page 29 of Shamrocked
“Not necessarily. He’s been cursed a very long time. We might have to be nearly on top of him before you can feel his pull.”
I could have asked for Ivarr to put me down, but I liked being in his arms. He didn’t make me feel weak, but treasured. There was a difference, and if I got to touch him in the process, then we both won. As long as none of the others got mad at him. Though I’d already seen enough of their good-natured jokes and ribbing to suspect that they’d just come right up and take me from him if it was a big deal.
Except for Aidan. I had a feeling he would watch from afar, and if I wasn’t careful, he might start to stew a little. Especially once we freed Doran. It was something I’d have to keep an eye out for, so that we didn’t go down the same jealousy and betrayal situation that had led to the curse.
In a few minutes, we found a faint trail that led up a small hill. Keane called down, “There’s a ruin up here. This might be it.”
I squirmed and Ivarr set me down. I hurried up the hill to Keane and paused a moment, looking at what remained of the old church. Breathing hard, I scanned the churchyard, looking for anything familiar. A single lone tree stretched skeletal branches into the dull gray sky. A little creepy, but nothing like the trees crowded close in my painting, trying to devour the gargoyle statue. And of course, no statue. Just a small square foundation made out of cement blocks and an overgrown flagstone path.
The motorcycle guys fanned out, looking for anything suspicious. I took a deep breath and headed down to the old church, even though I knew the truth.
“Doran’s not here,” Aidan said, his tone flat. “This isn’t right.”
I didn’t want to admit that I was wrong. It had to be this area. It had to be a church. An old church.
Oldchurch.
My brain itched like I was on the verge of something momentous. A massive surge of inspiration.
My name. My name is Newkirk. Kirk is Dutch for church.
I whirled and dragged the map sticking out of Vivi’s pocket. “You said they took the stone from this church and built a new one. Where is it?”
She pointed to one of the red circles a bit further up the bay. “Here. It’s still called Our Blessed Lady of the Lake Church.”
“We need to go there.”
None of them questioned me or voiced any doubts. They didn’t say,“But Riann, you painted an old ruin, so how could Doran possibly be at a brand-new church built just a few years ago?”Aidan jerked his head toward the beach and immediately, the guys headed that way, Keane scouting ahead as before. My eyes burned, my heart thumping too hard against my ribcage. This had to be it. I had to be right. I couldn’t bear it if we’d come all this way, and they’d believed in me. Trusted me. And I’d been wrong.
The pebbled beach narrowed, trees marching down close to the water’s edge. A little bit of ice crackled at the shoreline, but the man-made lake flowed like a river and was too fast and deep to freeze over completely. The winter temperatures hadn’t been cold enough, and spring was just weeks away. In fact, as I ducked beneath a low sycamore branch, I saw buds, ready to burst forth as soon as it warmed a bit more. Roots and stumps made treacherous hurdles for someone with short legs, but with Warwick on one side and Ivarr on the other, they offered me a hand when I needed it to hop up and over a downed tree.
Aidan jumped across a ditch and paused, looking back at me, worry grooved deeply in his forehead. “Be careful. It’s too far for you to jump.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
Arching a brow at me, he waited, one boot on a thick dead tree that made a sort of bridge over the narrow inlet. Warwick helped me up onto the log. Holding his hand, I eased out over the ditch. Well, it was actually more like a small creek than a ditch and several feet across. How the fuck had Aidan jumped over this thing without even getting wet? Let alone carrying Doran’s statue on his back.
At least the log was fairly wide and I had good balance. Warwick held my hand until I was just a few feet from Aidan and then let go. Aidan stretched his hand out, reaching for me.
Something wrapped around my ankle and jerked me off the log.
With a startled screech, I fell into freezing cold water, but it wasn’t that deep. I struggled to my feet in knee-deep water. My clothes were soaked through. Fuck. That’d be a problem in this weather. I hadn’t brought a spare outfit. I scanned the water, but didn’t see anything suspicious or scary. Aidan shrugged off the backpack and came bounding down the creek bank toward me, his eyes fierce. A short sword in each hand.
Someone bellowed, “Alarm! Attack!”
And suddenly I was flat on my back again, dragged through cold water, spluttering, my head slipping beneath the surface of the frigid water. My shoulder crashed into a rock, pain shooting down my left arm. My ankle throbbed. What the fuck had me? I couldn’t see anything. It was all I could do to keep my head above water. And then I couldn’t. Water closed over my head. So fucking cold. Taneycomo was below fifty degrees even in the hot Missouri summer, and even worse in the winter.
I tried to feel down my leg to get free, but whatever had me was still moving too quickly through the water. I couldn’t sit up against the drag. Something dark swooshed over the top of me, gliding by like a shark. Only the flash of a silver blade told me it was Aidan. A red cloud suddenly filled the water and the vise clamped around my ankle released me as quickly as it’d dragged me off the log.
Freed, I swam toward the surface, my lungs burning. I shivered so hard I bit my tongue. My arms and legs trembled, making my movements clumsy. I wasn’t going to make it. I’d die a foot away from air.
A blaze of green light hit the water and parted it like Moses split the Red Sea, clearing a shallow path toward me. Letting me breathe. Warwick. He came running toward me on a glittering green bridge of magic. Coughing and spitting out water, I managed to shove my numb arm up so he could grab my hand and drag me up out of the remaining water into his arms. I looked for Aidan, and then wished I hadn’t. Because the thing that had grabbed me was like some horrific bad dream.
Long sickening-pink tentacles twitched and writhed in the water. I thought it was some kind of freak octopus, but it had a horse head.
A horse with tentacles.
:Kelpie,:Warwick said in my head.:A big one, too. He’ll need help with it.:
