Page 57 of Broken Veil
“At this point I feel like you could probably call it a quest.” Carys stared at the drone footage and turned the volume up on the television as Duncan came to sit next to her on the end of the bed. “I just don’t know why you’re so upset about getting Angus involved.”
Someone in the control room at the local news station clearly wasn’t buying the excuses the presenters were trying to make, because every time someone mentioned flooding, they cut to the unmistakable drone footage of a giant snake as long as two school buses.
“Of course it’s impossible to avoid all speculation,” the female presenter was saying in a very calm voice, “with the continued and unexplained occurrence of the… very large earthen berm in Salisbury.”
“I believe it’s a fairy fort,” the male presenter said. “Or at least that’s what the current theory is among the neo-pagan community in Britain.”
The early-morning traffic reporter was clearly having fun with it. “Better watch for kelpies if you’re taking a walk along the river.”
“At least this gives the boys in Leeds some kind of excuse for that devastating defeat last night,” the sports reporter said. “Just blame it on the fairies, John.”
The male presenter and Traffic Guy laughed, but the woman at the desk didn’t look amused.
Someone decided to play the drone footage again.
Carys grabbed the remote and turned off the television. She needed to figure out why Duncan was so upset. “Okay, why are you mad about getting help from Angus?”
“Because he’s Angus,” Duncan said. “And he’ll make you pay for it. Somehow he’ll make you pay. Angus never does anything for free.”
Favors and obligations were practically their own currency in the Shadowlands, so Carys couldn’t be surprised. “How long has Angus worked with you, smithing in Sgain?”
Duncan shrugged. “Around fifteen years.”
“And how much do you pay him for helping you at your forge?” It was probably a bucket of milk every week and a goose at Christmas.
Midwinter. Yule. Imbolc. Whatever their winter festival was.
“How much do I pay Angus?” Duncan crossed his arms over his chest. “Two hundred gold sovereigns a year.”
Carys blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Did you think the old bastard worked for free?”
Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. “You pay Angus in gold sovereigns?”
“You think he’d take pound notes?”
Obviously not. “Okay, but you’re still his favorite. I remember Lachlan’s father saying that you’re his favorite.” King Robb might not have said that Duncan was Angus’s favorite out loud, but it was definitely implied.
“Sure I am!” Duncan snorted. “Do you see Robb and Lachlan paying the old bastard in gold coin?”
Okay, that was fair. But Carys had a feeling that Angus didn’t really work because he was hard up for money. The magical creature wasn’t a fae. Not really. He might be a demigod of some kind, but he was ornery, opinionated, and tremendously powerful.
“If Cadell is right and Angus is some kind of demigod related to Pan, asking him to serve as a guide during this…”
“You just said we should call it a quest.”
“I have to get rid of the Morrígan. Or at least make her go back to the Shadowlands, right?” Carys shifted and angled herself toward Duncan. “Angus is powerful, he’s magical, and according to Cadell, he is really, really old. Maybe even older than the Morrígan.”
“Carys—”
“He has a fondness for you.” She took his hands, leaned forward, and kissed Duncan softly on his grumpy, pouting mouth. “And you love me, right?”
Duncan’s voice was rough. “I love you like mad, woman.” He wrapped his hand around her wrist where a red welt from the grindylows still lingered. He brought her arm up to his lips and kissed the angry wound. “I love you so much I want to take you back to California and forget all this is happening.”
“And let more golden retrievers get eaten?” She glanced at her arm. “Imagine it wasn’t you and me and Lachlan in the water. Imagine a little kid fell in.” She shook her head. “Dru may be guarding the gates, but things are still creeping across, Duncan. They’re drawn to her magic. I have to do somethingbefore anyone else gets hurt, and if Wade says Angus is the one who can help me, I’ll figure out how to buy some gold sovereigns even if that means selling my house.”
“Fuck that.” Duncan wrapped his arm around Carys and sighed. “You’re not selling your house. We’re going back to Alba, and if that old bastard doesn’t offer to help you, I’ll sic Auld Mags on him.”
