Beyond the Highland Myst(493)

And while so involved with the building of it, he'd become aware of an ever-growing, restless emptiness inside him.

The castle had begun to consume him. Impossible for a man to labor daily for three long years and not lose a part of himself to not merely the act of creating, but the creation. The empty, waiting rooms were the promise of family and love. The promise of a future he'd never been able to envision for himself.

When Drustan had died, he'd gone and stood outside the castle for hours uncounted, staring at its dark and silent silhouette in the gloaming.

He'd imagined Gwen in the future, waiting. And Drustan never arriving. She would live alone. Nell had told him Gwen was pregnant, though Gwen herself had not yet realized it, which meant Gwen would raise their babes alone.

He imagined no candles ever flickering beyond those windows. No children ever padding up and down those stairs.

All the empty places inside him had finally been filled—not with good things, but with anguish, fury, and defiance. He'd shaken his fist at the heavens, he'd raged and cursed. He'd questioned all he'd been raised to believe.

And by the misty, crimson-streaked dawn, he'd known but one thing: The castle he'd built would be filled with his brother and his family.

Aught else was simply unacceptable. And if the legends were true, if the cost was his own chance at life, he'd deemed it worthwhile. He'd little left to lose.

"Hey, are you okay?" Chloe asked.

Dageus started, realizing he must have been stopped at the stop sign for several minutes. He shook his head, scattering the grim memories. "Aye." He paused, weighing his next words. "Lass, I haven't seen Drustan in some time."

He had no idea how Drustan would react. He wondered if he would know, merely by looking at him, that he was dark. The bond of twins betwixt them was strong. Aye, I used the stones, but the legends were wrong. There was no dark force in the in-between. I'm fine. 'Tis but that this century is a marvel and I've been exploring a wee. I'll come home anon. 'Twas the lie he'd been telling his brother since the day he'd made the mistake of calling him, unable to resist hearing Drustan's voice, so he could assure himself that he was alive and well in the twenty-first century.

Dageus, you can tell me anything, Drustan had said.

There's naught to tell. 'Twas all a myth. Lie upon lie.

Then had begun the regular calls from Drustan, asking when he'd be home. He'd stopped picking up the phone months ago.

"So this is a reunion    ?"

"Of sorts." If Drustan turned him away, he'd take Chloe to the museums. He'd find another way. He was fair certain his brother wouldn't attack him. If he'd not come home, if he'd made Drustan hunt him, that might well have happened. But he hoped Drustan would understand his return for what it was: a request for aid.

She eyed him intently. He could feel her gaze, though he kept his profile to her.

"Did you and your brother have a falling out?" she said gently.

"Of sorts." He released the brake and resumed their journey, giving her a chilly look so she'd drop it.

A few moments later, she slipped her wee hand into his.

He tensed, startled by the gesture. He was accustomed to women reaching for many parts of him, none of them his hand.

He glanced at her, but she was staring straight ahead. Yet her hand was in his.

He closed his fingers around hers before she might snatch it away. Her wee hand was nearly swallowed by his. It meant more to him than kisses. More even than bedplay. When women sought him for sex, it was for their pleasure.

But Chloe's small hand had been given without taking.

*****

Adam Black watched the automobile wind up the roads into the Keltar mountains. Though his queen had long ago passed an edict forbidding any Tuatha Dé Danaan to go within a thousand leagues of a Keltar, Adam had decided that since The Compact had been violated on the Keltar side, old edicts didn't apply.

He knew why she'd passed the edict. The Keltar, having pledged their lives and all their future generations to upholding The Compact, were to be free of any Tuatha Dé Danaan interference, because his queen had known, even then, that there were those among their race that didn't like The Compact. Who'd not wanted to leave the mortal realm. Who'd argued to conquer the human race. Who might have tried to goad a Keltar into breaking it.

So since the day The Compact had been sealed, not one Keltar had so much as glimpsed one of their ancient benefactors.

Adam suspected that might have been a mistake. For, although the Keltar had faithfully performed their duties, over four thousand years they'd forgotten their purpose. They no longer even believed in the Tuatha Dé Danaan, nor did they recall the details of the fateful battle that had set them on their course. Their ancient history had become nothing more than vague myths to them.