Bastian frowned, as though not understanding. "Of course. We are of the Dyadd Morgaine, the Tribe of the Goddess." He saw their lack of comprehension, and his frown deepened. "You don't know of the Dyadd, or the arukhin, and yet you know of the Drakkyn. How can that be, if I may ask?"
"Are you associated, then, with the one called Mordred Andrakkar, or his son?" Malcolm asked. At the mention of that name, something dangerous flashed in Bastian's eyes and he drew his sister closer to his chest. For the first time, Gabriel noticed that there was something odd about Bastian's teeth.
"Are you?" was his flat reply as he regarded them all with renewed wariness. And suddenly Gabriel began to understand: Drakkyn must come in more than one variety. Considering the only sort he'd met so far had been evil and semi-reptilian, that could only be a good thing. His father seemed to agree. Duncan sighed wearily and stepped forward, putting out his hand. After considering it for a moment, Bastian accepted it and shook.
"It seems we have a common enemy, Bastian an Morgaine. But I'm not sure what we can do to help you. We barely know what to do to help ourselves at this point." Briefly, Duncan explained the encounter with the Andrakkar in December, the shock of discovering themselves to be descended from something called Drakkyn, the disdain and threats of annihilation from Mordred. And of course, and with great pride, the way Gideon had taken a chunk out of Mordred and driven him off. When he finished, worry had settled again into Bastian's expression.
"I'm afraid I don't even have time to explain. Rowan can tell you more when she awakens. But if the Andrakkar have become interested in this world, that makes my leaving all the more urgent." He looked at their faces again, seeming to search deeper than just the visible. It was discomfiting, Gabriel thought, to have those eyes settle on you even for a second. They passed over his face once and then returned. To stay.
"You," Bastian said. "What is your name?"
Gabriel stared back unflinchingly. He suddenly felt just the way he always had every time a teacher had sent him to stand in the corner, which was quite a few.
"Gabriel. MacInnes."
Bastian was silent for interminable seconds as he continued to stare, making the hackles on the back of Gabriel's neck rise in reaction. He couldn't shake the sensation that this man, or creature—whatever he was— was looking not at him but into him ... searching. For what, he couldn't know, but he had a sudden wild hope that it wouldn't be there. That he would be found lacking, and therefore excused.
Bastian's sudden brisk nod crumbled that wish into dust.
"I give my sister into your keeping until I return, Gabriel MacInnes." Bastian approached as Gabriel's eyes widened. Give ? Sister? He took a step back despite himself. He'd signed on to protect his family, the Stone. But it looked as though Bastian was about to hand him a living, breathing woman he'd never seen before. Gabriel searched frantically for something to say that would stop Bastain in his tracks. In his horror an image flashed through his mind, that of the unfortunate goldfish he'd once attempted to keep in his apartment that had managed to die of some bizarre form of aquatic leprosy. And he'd actually tried with that one! But a woman ... a Drakkyn woman, no less.
"Wait just a damn minute!" Gabriel growled, putting his hands up in front of him. "I'm no babysitter. And where the hell do you think you're going in such a hurry?"
Bastian advanced on him, undeterred. Gabriel shot a glance at the others, who didn't appear to be in any hurry to help him. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, Gideon looked suspiciously relieved. Gabriel frowned at him. Just because the man had Carly to take care of shouldn't exempt him after all. And what of Duncan, or even Malcolm? They were ostensibly running the show here.
Reflexively, Gabriel's traitorous arms lifted to catch the woman who was being unceremoniously shoved at him.
"I have my own score to settle with the Andrakkar. As does she," Bastian said, inclining his head to his prone sister. "But she's too weak right now. You'll need to make sure she feeds, though she'll fight you on that." He sighed, his gaze upon her both affectionate and irritated. "The Goddess knows I've had my hands full trying."
"Uh, sorry, but what exactly do you mean by feed?" Gabriel asked, suddenly understanding what was bothering him about Bastian's teeth. The incisors were long and deadly sharp. Just like a ...
"In Nevada, where we were, Lucien Andrakkar entered this world. I intend to find out how. Then," Bastian said, his voice a dangerous rasp, "I'm going to make sure it never happens again."
"We'll come with you," Duncan said, his jaw set, his expression grim. "I'll do whatever I can to blow those bastards out of the damned universe."
Bastian gave a slight bow, but he was already backing away from them. Gabriel felt the weight in his arms and was overcome with the desire to hurl it right back at Bastian. He couldn't be responsible for her. What could Bastian possibly have seen in him that would indicate this was a good idea? He had a life, for Christ's sake!
"I thank you, more than I can say. But the most important thing now is keeping Rowan safe. She is precious to the Dyadd, our future leader ... whosoever may be left of us, at any rate. Something she and I will find out together once I return." His gaze, bright and determined, flicked back to Gabriel. "I warn you, Lucien is nothing short of obsessed. He is still searching for her. He can't be allowed to have her. No matter what."
Gabriel opened his mouth to protest, but incredibly, he heard Duncan's voice answering for him.
"Gabe'll keep her safe. Just you be sure and shut whatever back door he's found into our world."
Gabriel turned his head to look incredulously at his father, who pointedly ignored him.
Feeling like a man who had just been tied to a sinking ship, he tried to think of something, anything he could say to pass this off to someone else. All he could come up with, though, was one outraged question.
"Why me?" he roared.
"Because you're the only one who might be even more stubborn than she is," answered Bastian. There was a quick smile, a disturbing flash of teeth, before his look turned somber. "Just be sure she feeds. She's been starving herself, and her power is all but gone. She'll need all she has for what is to come."
"If you think," Gabriel began, his temper heating to a full boil, "that I'm just going to let her ..."
"Luck to you, brother arukhin. You'll need it. May the blessings of the Goddess Morgaine rain down upon you all. I will return."
There was a blinding flash of light, a deafening crack like a massive tree splitting in two. And when his eyes could focus again, Gabriel saw that the woman Bastian had called "precious" remained in his arms, silent and still frustratingly real. Looking up, he saw that all eyes were fixed on him. All, that was, but Bastian's.
For as suddenly as he'd appeared, Bastian an Morgaine had gone.
Chapter 3
At first she was adrift in nothing but soothing, silent darkness. Wrapped in warm arms, unaware of other eyes on her, Rowan let herself enjoy the novelty of feeling protected, safe. Willfully blind, floating beneath the surface of consciousness, she knew nothing but that for once she was at rest without the company of her terrible dreams.
Then, gradually, there were voices.
Unfortunately, they were irritating.
"... that I'd take care of her, but what if she takes care of me? She's a Drakkyn, for Christ's sake ..."
"... just lucky for her she isn't a goldfish ..."
"... all well and good for you, but did you get a look at his bloody teeth?"
"For the love of God, Gabriel, stop being such a whiny jackass."
Rowan frowned at the unfamiliar rumbles of several male voices, none of which sounded happy despite carrying an accent that was both strange and beautiful to her ears. They echoed at first as though coming from far away, a meaningless conversation carried over distant hills. But as Rowan came somewhat unwillingly back to herself, she became aware that one of the voices vibrated against her ear each time it sounded.
She also slowly became aware that the unpleasant subject under discussion was none other than herself.
"What am I supposed to do with her? I've got to get back to Tobermory in the next few days or Jerry'll have my head. I've been gone a week already! It isn't as though I can just drop everything and move back to Iargail, you know that."
"You gave your word, lad."
"You mean you gave my word."
"You heard what the man said. Those Andrakkar bastards are after them, too. How can you refuse when he's off to push them back again? I only wish he hadn't disappeared so quickly on us. We've as much right to go and fight as he does, whoever the hell he is."
A beleaguered sigh, to Rowan's rapidly increasing irritation, came from whoever belonged to the arms she'd just been so obliviously enjoying. She was being held, her body still curled into the gentle embrace that was so at odds with the words being spoken. I am not enjoying this, she told herself. And truly, what with the insulting manner in which she was being discussed, she wasn't. Mentally, anyway. But her tired limbs firmly refused to peel themselves away from the delicious heat. A lovely smell, clean and altogether male, filled her nostrils and threatened to muddy her already fuzzy thinking. Then the voice again, low and slightly rough with that thick and rolling accent, thrummed against her ear.
"No, you're right. I know you're right, all of you. It's just ... honestly, what is a simple werewolf going to do with some ... some bloodsucking Drakkyn? Ideas? Anyone?"
That's it, she thought, opening her eyes to glare directly up at whoever had his damned hands all over her person while referring to her with the distasteful title of bloodsucker. If she'd had just few less principles, she would have simply chomped down on an arm to see how he liked that. As it was, words would have to do.
"Putting me down would be a nice start, thanks." Her voice, Rowan was pleased to find, was a little hoarse from her confrontation with Lucien but strong enough to be heard.
