Heartless A Shieldmaiden's Voice: A Covenant Keeper Novel Read online

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, applying it to his scrambled eggs. Beth went beet red, it matched her hot pink sari rather well. She looked to her mother for help. Carole bit her lip, trying to hide a smile. Beth didn’t disappoint.

  “Getting kicked out of a hotel because your parents are having wild sex, Dad! I don’t know whether to be mortified or proud.”

  Ted glanced at Carole and smiled. “Be proud.”

  “I’m going to get more orange juice.” Beth shot out of her seat and hurried across the room towards the buffet. Carole looked down at her plate of yogurt and chickpeas, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

  Ted reached across the table and took her hand, and lifted it to his lips. “Best night of my life. But I’m going to ask you to do something more, Carole.”

  She stopped laughing immediately. “No! I won’t, Ted. I can’t. Trust me, my heart doesn’t want more.” He kissed her hand again.

  “That’s not what I meant. I want you to fix what’s wrong between you and Beth. When she was younger I thought it was your fault you weren’t close. You were gone so much, and you kept us both at arm’s length when you weren’t. I felt safer there, and I thought maybe Beth did too. Now I wonder. Did I somehow teach Beth to put distance between you? I don’t like the way she treats you, and I think it’s my fault. It’s hard for me to know what I’ve cost you. Is the trouble between you and Beth because of me, or because her mother lied to her so much?” Ted whispered the last, and Carole flinched, but when she looked in his eyes there was no accusation there, and when she tried to pull her hand out of his, he held tightly.

  “Don’t. I’ve lied to Beth too, and if I’m not mistaken you used to cover for my indiscretions.”

  Carole stared at her plate blindly for a moment, tears swimming into her eyes. She whispered, “It’s not entirely your fault.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  She looked into his sky clear eyes. He’d gotten even more beautiful overnight.

  “It was partly so she couldn’t feel what you were doing to me—when you went with other women.” Ted made a sound like a wounded animal. Several families at neighboring tables turned to stare. Carole shook her head at him. “But it wasn’t only that, Ted. Beth can’t know how different I am, how different she is—it’s safer this way.”

  “Safer! Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Carole smiled at him. “Would you really want to know?”

  “If it is about Beth’s safety, yes!”

  “What if it is safer for all of us if you don’t know either?”

  Ted thought about that, pushing his eggs around on his plate for a bit. Beth had apparently abandoned them. Carole could sense her on the street outside, digging through piles of spices. It was Ted who avoided Carole’s eyes now. Even if she had been a normal woman, this would be hard for him. To be kept in the dark by his wife, for the safety of his family. She would tell him now, if he pressed, about her father and what she was. It didn’t matter what the voices said about it. She wouldn’t lie. But she hoped he wouldn’t ask, because it could only put distance between them. And she would very much like to enjoy their newfound connection, at least longer than a few hours. It was all they could ever have.

  “Okay, if you say so. But don’t blame your secrets for the gulf between the two of you. Spend time with her. It doesn’t have to involve the touch of your heart. She still needs you.”

  “I’m right here in India with her while she picks out silks and junk for her shop, Ted. How much more time can I spend with her?”

  “Go to Scotland with her. Find her dream shop. I’ll pack up the apartment in Skopelos and come when you call. But take your time, connect with her like—I don’t know—I want to say like normal people do.”

  “Not sure I know how to do that,” Carole mused.

  “Learn,” Ted said. “Fake it.”

  “I don’t think Beth knows normal either.”

  “Learn together then.” He took her hand and pressed it against his heart and smiled at her. “She’s got a really terrific mother. I think she deserves to know that.”

  “HOW MANY MILES a day do you jog, Mom? I told you they stopped serving breakfast at ten.” Beth stomped out the door of the Bed & Breakfast, her fashion boots clicking over paving stones. Smoothing her sweater-dress, she pretended to pick imaginary flecks off the creamy material, not quite daring to glare into her Mom’s eyes. Her mother was still as toned and muscular as a seventeen-year-old jock, and her incessant running seemed borderline compulsive. Now she’d upped it to twice a day. So much for spending time together. Unlocking the passenger door on the rental car, Beth held it open for her.

  “A shower seemed higher priority since we’ll be driving all afternoon,” Carole said.

  Beth tried not to roll her eyes. Mom answered questions like a lawyer. Why did time alone with her mother make her feel ten again? Sit by me Mom, talk to me. Taking a deep breath, Beth fished in her huge leather purse. I’m not being fair. Mom used to skate and swim with me all the time, and cook me anything I asked for, when she was home, anyway.

  Beth located what she’d been looking for. “Here, I snagged some oatcakes and fruit for you.” She shoved a bag into her mother’s hands. “We’re going to need to find someplace with good food. The next B&B said they won’t cook special meals.” She closed the door and hurried around the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. Her mother sat rigid in her seat, hands clutching the paper bag, eyes straight ahead. “It’s okay to relax, Mom. I’m a good driver.”

  “It’s not you,” Carole said. She reached over and tugged on Beth’s belt to make sure it was secure. Beth took a deep breath. What had she been thinking to agree to this? What had Dad been thinking to suggest they scout the area alone? How could a mother and daughter have absolutely nothing in common?

  At the end of the driveway her mother twisted back and forth, craning her neck to scour the empty roadway for oncoming cars. “It’s safe,” Carole said and jammed two oatcakes into her mouth. Beth impatiently stepped on the gas and the car lurched forward. Carole grabbed the dashboard and shot her a dirty look, chewing fast. Dad would have laughed.

  “You really should learn to drive. You wouldn’t be so paranoid.”

  “I’m surprised you actually like it,” Carole said through her mouthful.

  “Why?” Beth demanded. She sensed the lie coming before her mother even swallowed the food and said it.

  “You just—seemed to like walking when you were little. Hikes are fun. You and I used to go on long walks all the time.”

  Maybe when you could carry me, she replied to the lie in her head. “It’s almost two hundred kilometers to the Isle of Skye. I’m sure you could run it, but I’d prefer to drive.”

  “Don’t sass me, Beth. Turn here.” Carole pointed.

  Grudgingly Beth obeyed. The rental bumped onto a rough, dirt road barely wide enough for their car. Bracken and broom brushed against the vehicle on both sides.

  “This isn’t the way,” she complained. It looked like weeds overtook the road further ahead.

  “It’s a shortcut.”

  Beth glared at the lie and her mother actually rolled her eyes a bit.

  “Technically it is longer. But it takes us away from civilization sooner, so it feels shorter to me. I like peace and quiet. Besides, I thought you wanted to check the nooks and crannies of Scotland.”

  “I do, but are you sure it’s even a road? Looks like a sheep path.”

  “Same thing where we’re headed.” Carole leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Beth slowed down. For her mother to fall asleep inside a vehicle she was driving would be the ultimate compliment.

  “I AM GOING to freeze to death out here,” Beth fussed, half laughing as she trudged forward. “I had no idea Scotland was so bone chilling cold! Maybe I should see if I can get my job back. There’s a branch in New Delhi that might not be so bad.”

  Carole plunged across the moor, muck sticking to her sensibl
e hiking boots, leading the way for Beth. They were surely not too far from civilization and heat for her spoiled child. Maybe it was a good thing the car had broken down. Sometimes Beth's naivety shocked her; choosing a place to live based on a book you’d read at age twelve seemed impulsive. As much as Carole hated the voices, they’d never allowed her to be naïve. She was glad Ted hadn’t come after all. While he was doing his best to be supportive of Beth’s plan, he couldn’t hide the fact that he preferred financial security over Beth’s idea of a General Store. The last thing he needed to know was why she’d chosen Scotland. Carole stopped, turning to her daughter.

  “So pick someplace different, Beth. You look happier wading through this mud than you have in the past few years. I’d say you’re on the right track.” And despite her daughter’s whining, Beth’s heart did feel happier. Carole could feel it bouncing outside her own. That was a feeling she’d learned to treasure.

  Beth stopped in the middle of the road, beautiful in her sweater dress and ridiculous fashion boots. “Mother,” she said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, “I’m freezing! Where are we? We should have stayed on the main road, and we definitely should have brought a map.”

  “This is the main road, I don’t need a map,” said Carole.

  “What do you mean you don’t need a map?” said Beth.

  Carole didn’t answer, but she heard Beth grumble under her breath, “I thought hikes were supposed to be fun.”

  Carole told her, “Walking along a road is not hiking.”

  “Oh look! Thank goodness! Here comes a car!” Beth seemed thrilled for the interruption and jumped up and down, frantically waving her arms as though it were a matter of life and death. The driver of a little blue Mini Cooper sped up to get to her, screeching to a halt and leaning over to open the passenger door wide and welcoming. Carole had no doubt the man would be chivalrous. Beth invited chivalry, until she started speaking. Likely they wouldn’t make it a mile in the car.

  “Thank you so much for stopping, you’re a lifesaver. Mind giving us a ride to the nearest phone?” At a soundless nod from the driver, Beth grabbed a lever and slid the passenger seat forward. She motioned for Carole to climb into the back.

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Come on, Mom,” Beth hissed. “I’m not walking another step, there’s no way I’d fit, and I’m wearing a dress!”

  Carole crawled into the backseat. The seats were almost flush against the front, and she had to stretch her legs across the backseat to fit. Beth slid her long frame into the vehicle, her knees almost level with the top of the dashboard. She slammed the door shut and Carole’s heart skipped a couple of beats. It looked like a clown car, but felt like a metal coffin. The murky sludge of the vehicle settled through her, making her shudder. It made her think of mud puddles with oily rainbows resting on top.

  “Our car broke down miles back, and we have absolutely no idea where we are. I haven’t seen a single road sign!” Beth’s greeting sounded ridiculously dramatic. Carole was certain the only danger walking the moor was blisters from Beth’s stupid footwear.

  Carole knew there were no weapons in the car, as nothing more could possibly fit, so she tried to relax. The heavyset driver in an ill-fitting suit looked stuffed into his seat, but he didn’t look dangerous. Smoothing a horrible comb-over, he put the car in gear and accelerated. Crossing her arms over her chest Carole stared out the window, trying to breathe calmly. Ninety-eight seconds. It would take over a minute to extricate both Beth and herself from this car. Unacceptable in an emergency. In the back of her mind the voices stirred, and she fought to ignore them. It was bad enough without their two cents.

  Beth prattled on in the front seat. “I’m Beth White and this is my mother, Carole White. I can’t tell what end is up on this moor. This is the way to Skye, right? I have reservations at a Bed and Breakfast near there, The Highlander Pottery House. My stars! I never saw anyone wear a suit coat over tartan before. Your kilt is lovely! Mother! Look at this fabric! Such beautiful wool. I’ve never seen the likes of it. Bet you could put that through a washing machine no worries. Goodness, I apologize for being rude. Thank you for picking us up. I’m sure glad you happened along. Where were you headed?”

  From the backseat Carole got the impression that Beth was fingering the man’s kilt. Did her daughter have no common sense?

  “Vale. Meh naim’s Doric.” The man spoke in heavily accented Scots, finally managing to get a word in. The brogue so thick that his next words were muffled gibberish. Carole took an immediate dislike to him, although she was certain no man could be held responsible for his tone while Beth petted his thigh. Doric wasn’t much taller than the steering wheel, and when he turned his head towards Beth his eyes were level with her breast. His head turned that way more than it looked out the windshield and the car waivered onto the bumpy shoulder of the road.

  “Try not to distract Doric while he’s driving, Beth.” Nameless anxiety tugged in the back of her mind.

  “It is possible to talk and drive, Mother,” Beth sniped. “My mother thinks driving any car requires the concentration of a NASCAR race.”

  Again half the car slid off the road, bumping along the shoulder.

  “Is something wrong with the car?” Beth asked.

  “Aye, cahrk goan vale ‘tis a bit jarrin’,” Doric replied and he twisted the wheel, accelerating. The vehicle jerked onto the moor and Carole’s head bounced against the roof violently. The car thudded up and down momentarily and then a violent whoosh slammed into it, rocking the vehicle back and forth for long seconds. Then it was over, and Doric continued coasting downhill as though nothing had happened, though his comb-over now rested upside down on the wrong side of his head.

  “What on earth was that?” Beth asked, rubbing bruised knees.

  Cold terror shot through Carole in waves. She already knew. Why did I ignore the voices? My heart knew! They’d entered a veil. Ignoring the pristine vista of Scotland sprawling green and rugged outside the windows, she turned her full attention on Doric. The man wasn’t old, though he was mostly bald, and while he was very short, he wasn’t fat either. The broad shoulders stretching the suit jacket were pure muscle. Warrior. He wagged a finger at Carole, tiny eyes staring through the rearview mirror.

  “Dinna be scanning meh, Shieldmaiten. Gifs me a wicket haideck.”

  “Danger. He is like us, but not. He wants Beth.” The voices predicted far too late what Carole could easily deduce for herself. This warrior wanted Beth—at least until he knew what her father was. How had she not noticed the vague touch of his heart? Had the touch of Beth’s drowned it out? Could Beth feel it? Of course she could! No wonder she liked the creepy little man!

  Beth twisted to look curiously back at her, apparently unable to completely decipher Doric’s words about Shieldmaidens and headaches. Beth turned back to Doric, and matter-of-factly reached over and plopped his greasy patch of hair back into place on his even greasier head. “If this is Scottish weather, it’s definitely out of the running for my shop. That was like a personal tornado! Though I’d like to buy some of that wool your kilt is made from. Is it local?”

  Beth continued her one sided conversation as Carole’s mind raced and she fought to reign her thundering heart in. She would have to kill Doric before he realized what they were and killed them. Had the mark she left on Ted’s heart changed hers enough to let them pass safely? Did her heart feel married? Surely he would have reacted already if he’d realized she wasn’t married to one of their own. Carole fought back panic. Beth couldn’t know what any of this was! They had to get out of the veil before anyone else saw them, or Beth saw too much! There were only a few wooden shacks within view and no other people in sight. Carole sensed no one as far as she could scan, but the veil stretched days farther than she could ever sense. No, she had to kill this man as quickly as possible, just not in front of Beth!

  A few hundred yards from the nearest shacks, the car rolled to a stop at the bottom of a s
lope.

  “Why are you stopping?” Beth asked. Doric slid the gear into park.

  “Wok,” he responded. Opening the door, he began the process of disembarking.

  Carole sat perfectly still, her mind racing while her daughter complained. “Was that shaking just the car then? That was weird! And now our rescue vehicle breaks down too.” Beth threw her door open and climbed out. After sliding the passenger seat forward for Carole to crawl out, she straightened and stretched her lean body, griping, “Do you know what, Mom? I’m getting a cell phone. I know you don’t like them, but I don’t care. I don’t like getting stranded.” Turning towards the huts, Beth continued her oblivious monologue. “No phone lines either. Hey, Doric? Is this where you get your wool?” Suddenly she sounded excited as she pointed at the largest shack. Bolts of colorful fabric were stacked along the front porch, and a cart full of it stood to the side.

  Before Carole untangled herself from the back, Beth hurried around the little car and slid an arm through Doric’s. With her stiletto boots she stood well over six feet tall. Even including his flopping comb-over Doric barely made five feet. In her pale sweater dress, silky blonde hair neat as a pin, next to squat, bowlegged Doric in his kilt and a dark suit coat, they made an odd pair. Carole couldn’t believe her daughter could bear to touch him. Climbing out of the vehicle, every cell of her being urged her to kill the man quickly. She wondered that he dared turn his back to her, that he didn’t sense it, but both Beth and the warrior faced in the opposite direction, ignoring her.

  “Oof, this place smells fantastic. Edible almost. Does it to you too, Doric?” said Beth.

  “Tis clean.”

  “Hah, my Mom always says that, that things are clean. I know exactly what you mean though. It does smell fresh and clean. Maybe I could open my shop around here, are there any little villages nearby?”

  Companionably the two of them marched towards a distant shack, Beth excitedly yammering about wool, kilts, and her shop. Carole lagged behind, her skin crawling and the voices urging escape. Outside the confines of the car it became clear that the mucky strangeness she’d attributed to the car was actually the faint polluted touch of Doric’s heart. While it was recognizable as one of her kind, there was something wrong with him, something dark.