Chloe's Guardian (The Nephilim Redemption Series Book 1) (24 page)

They turned in unison to see who spoke, and behind them, seated at a table full of food, were their three captors.

CHAPTER
28

John Knox should have kept his blasted swayback mule for all the good it did. Horatius had gotten the beast to travel only a couple of leagues out of town, but then it decided it had had enough. It stood like a statue in the middle of the road, unwilling to budge, no matter how much Horatius kicked its flanks or cursed at it.

“I am not Balaam. And you are not smart enough to be his donkey. And there is
no
angel with a drawn sword in your path or I would have seen it. Now, get,
get.
”

The animal let out a long bray and turned off the road. It lumbered into the nearby field and munched on the grass.

Horatius jumped off and slapped the animal’s rump.

“Get. Get back on that road and get a move on, you mangy, stupid, abominable creature. You are not worth the air you breathe.” He whacked its rump again.

The animal glanced at him over its shoulder, grass hanging out of its full, masticating maw.

“Stay here, then, you loathsome beast. I have to go north. I must find the girls, with or without you.”

He tramped back up onto the road, muttering about the useless animal. “Could have been there by now…crazed beast…can just go to the devil.”

The sun was high and hot. Horatius had to repeatedly check himself as he thought to fling up a surge of power and change out of his human form. It was odd how something was not working right when he used power. Could Mebahel be prohibiting him from using his power even now?
Those Celestials just
love
making everything arduous and miserable for me
. They seemed to
enjoy
tormenting him.

But the way he was knocked on his back when he tried to transfigure last was not like anything he’d experienced before. It seemed more that something inside him was mixing with the attempt to use power and turning into something disastrous.

He needed to get the girls and take them to stay with Mary of Scots and her sister-in-law, Agnes Stewart, William Keith’s daughter. They would keep them safe. Then he could go find out why his power was not working right. And see what he could do to get clearance to fly again. Maybe if he found some charitable deed to do along the way, he could win enough favor to get the decision reversed. Or he would submit an Unprecedented Supplication to his overseeing Celestials. He’d have to find some way to fly through the Corridor. Because there was no way he would use the alternative route—if Chloe even found out there
was
another way. No matter how fiercely she demanded he use it, he would refuse.

He continued to grumble as he trudged up the road. He cursed the wool cape that kept wrapping around his legs and twisting between his knees. The fabric hadn’t transmuted correctly and was too sweltering—too
wooly—
for such a hot day. His throat burned with thirst and he carried no supplies. Normally, he would just make what he needed as he went. Now he was with no water, no transportation, no anything. He yanked off his cape and tossed it aside, leaving it along the roadside for whatever damned idiot would find and take the thing.

Evil, vindictive actions played out in his imagination against John Knox, as likely to be blameworthy for everything as anyone, when a rumble behind him pulled his attention from his malicious musings.

A giant cloud of dust hovered over the horizon. The ground’s rumbling became a roar just below his threshold of hearing, but he could feel the intensity of it throbbing through the earth. It had to be the Queen’s army. They were due on the road and only hundreds of horsemen could move the ground like an earthquake. This was his chance to get the mount he needed to go after the girls and arrange for Queen Mary to get them to Agnes for safekeeping once he found them.

He left the road for the center of a field to keep from getting in the way of the galloping horses at the forefront of the convoy. The first wave of the army went by, stirring up a haze so thick most of the convoy was obliterated from view. They spread wider than the road and moved through fields—both fallow and planted—disregarding the harvestable crops. The blowing dirt buffeted his face, blocking his nose and scratching his throat. He spit and sneezed and cursed some more. Oh, how he needed a cold draught.

Once the first contingent passed, the dust settled and behind them more slowly came Queen Mary, her men-at-arms, her ladies, and the remainder of the army. Horatius stepped toward the road’s edge and waited, the taste and grit of dirt still in his mouth. When they started to pass him, he broke into a slow jog and kept pace with the group with the wagon in which Mary rode.

“Greetings, man,” one of the horsemen yelled.

He probably thinks I’m just a local coming out to see the procession.

“Hail to the Queen Mary,” he said and tossed a copper through the air to Horatius.

He caught it easily, but kept jogging. “I need to speak with the Queen,” he huffed.

“Of course you do. I will be certain to tell her an ardent supporter abides in yon village.”

“We know each other. I am a friend of hers. From France.” He coughed and cleared his throat but refrained from much-needed spitting.

The horseman pushed his mount forward toward his departing unit. “Good day, man. You best be back to your own affairs.”

Horatius dropped back to catch his breath. He thought of turning the man’s bowels to jelly but caught himself in time. After several lines of people passed, he started jogging again. He caught another coin, but broke in before the man could dismiss him.

“I am Horace of the Saracens, longtime associate of Queen Mary’s late husband, Francis, Dauphin of France.” He used his old title that Mary knew him by. “I wish…I
must
speak to her. It is of great importance.”

“Tha’ is what everyone says, man. Move aside and spare your feet from being trampled.” And the rider pulled away, back into the thundering mass.

In spite of the weakness making his calves shake and his thighs burn, Horatius kept jogging. The wretched experience prevented him from casting a curse at the loathsome rider.

When he thought he could not possibly take another step, a horn sounded and the horde of horses came to a disorderly stop. To the west of the road, a large field of grass and wildflowers allowed space for the Queen’s party to rest. Several women emerged from the train, and servants carried large baskets of foodstuffs. A loose circle of men-at-arms formed around the area, making a barrier to protect the Queen against unwanted intrusion from the common folk who were gathering from their fields and hovels to catch a glimpse of their monarch.

Horatius approached the circle, trying not to look drunk by stumbling or walking off kilter, but he must have failed because the men-at-arms jumped and set up a perimeter as though he meant to run in and kidnap the Queen. His legs were weak and wouldn’t respond normally.

He put his hands up in surrender. “Whoa there, good fellows. I arranged to speak with Her Highness.”

No one eagerly answered him. They all stared, taking in his height and appearance. “Wait here,” one of them finally said.

The man left and Horatius had to sit down. Or more like fall down. His legs would no longer hold him up.

He waited. And waited. And grew more agitated by the minute.

He pulled his shaky knees up and rested his forehead down on his crossed arms, allowing himself just a moment to reenergize. Fatigue threatened to overtake him. He even closed his eyes, just briefly, to sooth the burning.
Ah, a wonderful relief
.

A commotion pulled Horatius from dozing. The group was breaking up and returning to the road. The men with whom he spoke earlier were gone. The whole crowd was moving away to regroup and leave. That was not allowable.

He ignored the wobble in his legs and staggered toward the group of women walking to the horses. He got through the Queen’s men milling about, gathering their belongings from the grass, and all the way to the first layer of women—when several bodies plowed into him and knocked him to the ground.

Someone lay across his head. Several others were smashing him into the grass. He could not move. His strength was gone.

“Get off his face, Connor,” a voice said. “See who it is.”

“Jemmy, if I get up, he will get up. He is a big lout. This is the best way to hold him down.”

“Ogilvie,” said a third laughed, “mind your brother. I want to see who this brown mongrel is.”

The man on his head got off, but he still could not lift up because of the weight on his back.

“I mean no harm,” Horatius bellowed into the grass.

“Why are you racing after the Queen then? You should know better if you dinna want to land in the spot you are in now.”

“I was trying— Can I get up? Would you get off—” His neck was bent wrong. And he was just plain miffed. He struggled against the pressure holding him down.

The weight increased and someone added their hands to hold his shoulders still.

“For the love of— Get off! I am just trying—”

The freckled face of a man appeared down in the grass next to his, lying sideways and lining up his gaze to match Horatius’ eyes.

“Stop fighting us or things will be worse for you.”

“I just need to see the Queen,” Horatius said through clenched teeth.

“And you think you are just going to race up to her like that?”

“I’m in a hurry. Two lasses’ safety is at risk. They were kidnapped by Gordon’s mercenaries. I need to ask Queen Mary for help. She’s a friend of mine.”

Before he finished, the two eyes surrounded by freckles left his line of sight.

“James, wha’ do you think? Should we tie him up and leave him till there is a good distance betwixt us?”

“Or we could leave ’im to the local sheriff.”

Neither was suitable. Horatius wanted to pound sense into all the idiots sitting on him. He wanted to cover them with boils. Or turn them into pillars of salt.

He would have to risk letting Satarel find his location. It suddenly became so obvious. He should have done it long ago.
Where has my mind been
? What a fool he had been to let the girls get so far away from him. Mebahel could not possibly expect him to remain so useless.

He gathered his thoughts and decided to just shock the idiots lying on him by transfiguring right then and there, consequences be cursed. They would rationalize it away anyway. He had to get moving. He concentrated.

Nothing happened.

The men still sat on him and still talked above him like they could determine his fate. He tensed to transfigure again.

But this time, everything went black again.

CHAPTER
29

“I can understand you,” Kaitlyn shrieked. She sounded excited. But Chloe’s heart erupted into an anxious gallop seeing him and hearing he could speak English after all.

“I was so disappointed to find you gone this morning.”

“You can speak English?” Chloe said. Her voice cracked and quivered, though she tried to control it.

“You could understand us all along?” Kaitlyn said.

“It was rude, you know, to leave like that—after we’d taken such good care of you both.”

Kaitlyn shriveled like a scolded child. Chloe grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“Good care?” Chloe whispered. Her hand went to her neck. Her captor's handprint from when he’d crushed her airway was unforgettable.

“A misunderstanding. I thought you were someone else. A vixen who’d robbed and tried to poison me. As soon as I realized you were not she, I let go. No harm done.”

No harm done?
Of course there was harm done!
She’d be traumatized forever. But she couldn’t say it. He couldn’t know the power he had over her. The terror he caused. She put on her bravest face. “That still doesn’t explain why you pretended not to speak English.”

“There is a perfectly good explan—”

The well-dressed woman interrupted them with several incomprehensible phrases and their captor answered back in the same unknown language. They spoke for a time then he turned his attention back to the girls.

“I have arranged for you to stay here. Lady Gordon will see to your comfort. I will be assisting her husband for a short time. See? I have your best interests at heart. I have not hurt you, have I? You need not fear me. I rescued you from your lost state outside of Edinburgh and brought you—or tried to bring you—to this good lady to provide you refuge.”

Kaitlyn sighed as though his explanation took care of everything. Chloe wasn’t going to buy his story so quickly. “You were bringing us here.”
Sure.

He nodded, looking hurt that Chloe would question his intentions. “Are you hungry?” he asked as he backhanded his companions on either side to move them away. “Certainly you are. Come on. Sit. I will not bite.”

Chloe wasn’t sure Kaitlyn even
tried
to hold back. As soon as he said sit, she sat. He poured her a drink and gave her a giant leg of mutton. But when Kaitlyn jerked back and visibly gagged, he laughed without malice, threw the mutton to a dog and offered her an apple.

He actually seemed chipper now—and almost kind. Maybe he really had thought they were in trouble. Or they did things differently here and now. Maybe he truly thought she was someone else. Was she just being prejudiced because he looked so awful, assuming the worst because of his hideous scar?

But he still hadn’t said why he pretended not to speak English.

“Why’d you act like you didn’t know English? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It is very hard to explain really. It might be hard on you, I mean.”

Chloe couldn’t imagine why. She braced for lies. This guy was a crafty one for sure. “Yeah? How so?”

“Of course, at first, if you remember, I was conversing with my companions before you even spoke. We were speaking
Gàidhlig
. I was not ‘pretending’ anything.”

“Well, when I spoke, you could have said something.”

Kaitlyn nibbled on her apple looking back and forth between them.

“As soon as you called out for Horace, it took me aback, for I knew a Horace who is a shark and scoundrel. I feared he may have been the very one of whom you spoke and so I thought to listen and see. From your conversation, I ascertained he was probably the same man. I must apologize for causing you and Miss Kaitlyn here any affliction. I intended to make known my suspicions and concerns to you, but alas, you left too soon.”

Chloe eased down onto a bench. “What do you mean about Horace? What do you know about him?”

He rubbed another apple to a glistening red on his sleeve and rolled it to her. “Your Horace is a large man, no? And from the Middle East? Horace is not even his real name. I was on Crusade and he suddenly showed up. He was a terror. He caused immeasurable grief to so many.” His fingers caressed the length of the scar running from his temple to his chin. “This was a gift from him. He is violent and ruthless. Has he caused you grief? To your loved ones? That seems to be his way. Those who spend time with him always end up hurt…or worse.”

That had to be her Horace. No one else would match that description. Or have that pattern of behavior. “What kind of stuff, specifically, do you mean? Like, is he a criminal—
murderer
or something? Does he hurt little kids?” She remembered Horace taking Benji without permission.

The man cleared his throat and bent in closer. “I cannot really say. Not in mixed company. But he over-drinks and seduces girls. The rest—I will not go on.”

Kaitlyn gasped. The food in Chloe’s throat stuck. What had she done? Benji had spent the day with him.
She
had fallen for him, his flirty gaze. He’d been toying with her since she met him—drunk no less—on the cliff top.

She swallowed hard. “So you’re saying he’s really bad?” Images flashed through her mind—Horace there when she was locked out of her car, when the gang attacked, when his father attacked them. She realized that every time he “helped” her, it was after he caused the trouble in the first place. “No really. What has he done? How bad is he?” She had to know.

“Truly, I cannot utter the words. It would be indecent.”

Kaitlyn’s hand flew to her mouth. Chloe felt sick. How could she have trusted him? Because of him, Benji might be dead. Nana, Mom, Michelle, all of them, stuck in the burning house because Horace abandoned them there to save his own skin.

“Are you okay?” the captor asked her. His scar and puckered cheek didn’t seem as menacing as it had before. His gentle voice made her throat tighten and tears flood her eyes.

But she couldn’t tell him. Who would understand what had happened? That some half-angel had flown her from another century and left her family dying in a burning house?

Kaitlyn reached over and took her hand and said to him, “I think she might need a moment.”

That made it even harder for Chloe not to cry. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek.

He touched a cloth napkin from the table to the tear. “If I can do anything…”

“I just want to go home.” She said it to herself.

“I know,” he said. “I think I might be able to help—”

The woman at the table yelled out at them. She argued with their captor until he grew red and the scar on his face blanched even whiter. Kaitlyn placed her hand on his clenched fist and he let his breath out.

“She is being pigheaded. She wants payment for our meals. Right now. I told her I will have it once her husband pays me for my services. But that is not soon enough for her.” His fist clenched back into a ball.

“Maybe we can help,” Kaitlyn said. She motioned toward the pipe and lute players who had stopped playing when the yelling began. “We can play some music for her royal highness, if you can find us some instruments.” She looked at Chloe for approval. Chloe couldn’t help but nod. Kaitlyn was so earnest. And what would it hurt? Getting her hands on a cello would be soothing therapy when the rest of her world was crashing around her. She’d have time to figure out just what to do with all her changing feelings—both about Horace and this new guy.

“No ‘royal highness’ needed. She is just ‘lady.’ But maybe you have a workable idea. She loves fine things. What do you play?” he asked.

“Bach, Mozart, The Beetles, Tchaikovsky—”

“She means she plays viola and I play cello. Do you have those here?”

“Let me see what I can do.” He spoke to the woman. She left them alone and barked at a nearby servant instead.

“They can get some instruments. That will keep her calm for a little while. At least until we have a chance to get to know each other better. So, you wish to go home?”