Page 53 of The Last Kelpie

“That's what worries me,” she said. “I don't know.”

There was nothing else to say. So I went back to my table, collected my things, and left the Archive. My mind spun through possibilities. Someone had taken the journal. Someone had tried to erase it from the Archive. Someone was systematically altering kelpie mythology, making them into monsters one edit at a time. And now, there was only one kelpie left.

I found Áedán in the central garden, sitting beneath Velas's Oak with Zephyr sprawled across his lap. The griffin has his beak tucked against Áedán's chest while he made soft chirping sounds that seemed far too delicate for a creature with talons like daggers.

“Someone likes you.” I settled onto the grass beside them.

Áedán scratched behind Zephyr's ears, earning a rumbling purr. “I suspect he's just using me for warmth.”

“Maybe.” I stroked Zephyr's back as I leaned over and kissed Áedán.

When we eased apart, Áedán said, “We need to go back to the loch.”

I'd known it was coming. I had felt it building in Áedán all day—the restlessness, the way his gaze kept drifting toward the windows. Then he hadn't returned after leaving with Zoe. He didn't just need to be outside. He needed to be in his loch. I'd taken the kelpie out of water and expected him to behave like a man.

But I had to save him, and I knew the journal was important. “What about the journal?”

“It can wait.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Ethan, every day we spend here is another day I'm fading. Another day closer to forgetting who I am.” He turned toward me. “I can feel it—the edges of myself getting softer. Memories that should be sharp are becoming fuzzy.”

My chest tightened. “How long do you have?”

“I don't know. A few months, maybe less.” His face twitched, and I saw the fear beneath his calm exterior. “I need to be home, where I'm strongest.”

“But if we leave now, we might never find out who took the journal. Never understand what they're trying to hide.”

“I know.” Áedán reached over and took my hand. “But I'd rather spend whatever time I have left at home with you than waste it chasing ghosts through the Archive.”

He was right. I knew he was right. But the researcher in me rebelled against leaving questions unanswered.

“The altered stories. The missing journal. The spiral. It all connects somehow. If we could just—”

“Ethan.” He squeezed my hand. “I love that you want to save me. I love that you think there's an answer waiting to be found. But I think we've found all there is to find here. Come home with me. You can work from there.”

“You're right. I've looked through all the kelpie books here and found every reference I could find on the journal. I can continue working on my laptop at your cottage. I can even talk to Moira again and look through the books I bought in Luss. I should be able to find all the changes and when they were made. Once I know what's been done, it will be easier for me to write a proper rebuttal.”

“A rebuttal?”

“Yes, to the new stories. It's the best way to start changing them back. I'll publish an academic paper that will prove how much your myth has been altered. Then we can work on spreading the original myth. Even if someone is working against us, it should buy us some time. Once you're stable, we can work on finding who did this.”

Relief flooded his face. “Thank you.”

Zephyr chose that moment to wake up, stretching with a yawn. He blinked at us with enormous golden eyes, then chirped hopefully.

“Yes, I know you're very handsome,” Áedán told him solemnly. “But we have to leave soon.”

The griffin's head swiveled toward me, as if seeking confirmation of this terrible news.

“He's right,” I said. “We're going back to Scotland.”

Zephyr chirped like a creaky door, then lifted his head to nudge my chin with his beak.

“I think he's protesting.” Áedán chuckled.

“I think you're right.”

Zephyr got off his lap with a huffing sound, launched into the air, and flew away.

I snorted. “I guess that was griffin-speak for, 'Fuck off.'”