Page 17 of Unveiled

“Connie. Did the storm monsters go home?”

He blinked. “Storm monsters?”

She nodded solemnly. “The black ones with funny eyes. I dreamed about them.”

A chill crawled up Connor’s spine. Shadows? He forced his voice steady. “What exactly did you see, wee ’un?”

“Just shapes.” She held her hands apart. “Big and blurry. Like shadows eating other shadows.”

Louella pulled Alicia gently away from Connor, her expression tight with worry.

Connor met Moira’s eyes. “I’ll go visit the village again this evening. Everyone will need to be patient. I must think.”

“Aye.” Moira squeezed his shoulder. “You sort your thoughts. We’ll handle the house and the residents.”

He nodded, grateful, but his mind was already back in the valley. Back in that impossible village. Back with the faces of people torn from their world.

He couldn’t shake the memory. Couldn’t shake the feeling that the Triarc hadn’t merely named him and Adrian protectors.

They’d bound them.

Connor shook himself and headed back to the study. He needed to gather his thoughts, draft a plan, and make sense of the impossible.

But when he closed the door and stood alone in the quiet, one truth echoed louder than all the others.

This wasn’t over.

The storm had only opened the door. Even little Alicia was feeling it.

Connor closed his eyes for several seconds before moving. The quiet inside the room should’ve comforted him. Instead, it pressed around him like a second skin.

His clan needed him.

The village needed him.

And Adrian—

No. He was not going to spend time thinking about the blasted Frenchman.

He crossed to the window overlooking the courtyard. A soft snow had fallen sometime before he had woken, thin and bright against the stone. A few clan members hurried between buildings, their breath fogging in the cold.

He dragged a log onto the fire and watched the sparks rise. There was a knock, sharp but hesitant.

“Come in.”

Fraser entered, rubbing a hand over his beard. “We need your instructions, Connor. Folk want tae see the village for themselves. Others want to bar the gates.”

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bar the gates from what? A magical village full of frightened people who barely know where they are?”

Fraser gave a wry snort. “Aye. Logic’s no’ a currency today, lad. Fear is.”

Connor sighed. “I told Moira we’ll head back to the village later. Until then, keep the peace for me. Tell everyone we’ll have more answers soon.”

Fraser nodded, then hesitated at the door. “Connor? You sure you’re all right? You look…worried.”

Connor waved him off. “I’m fine. Go.”

Once Fraser left, Connor sank into his chair. Worried was a lean description. He felt stretched across two worlds, his clan and that impossible valley.