Page 63 of The Last Kelpie

“It's past eight.” Áedán moved toward the kitchen with purpose. “You need to eat.”

“Och, I can manage—”

“I'll make you something.” Áedán was already in the kitchen, opening cupboards.

“I think he needs to keep busy,” I whispered.

Ed nodded.

Tommy trotted into the kitchen and sat near Áedán, whining a little every time he placed something on the counter. I went back to photographing the pages with my phone.

“Are you going to break the spell?” Ed sat back in his chair.

I glanced at Áedán. “Yes, sir. I won't stop until I've corrected the stories.”

“That's a good lad.”

Áedán returned a few minutes later with a sandwich for Ed. “I fed Tommy some kibble. The wood box is getting low. I'll bring some in.”

He disappeared outside before either of us could respond. Through the window, I watched him gather logs from the covered pile beside the cottage, his movements methodical and controlled. He stacked several in his arms.

I hurried through the last pages, but stopped when I saw the sentence. It was the last thing written on the last page of the kelpie section. Even though I knew it was there, I still flinched when I saw it. Squaring my shoulders, I took a picture of the whole page, then a close-up of the sentence. Áedán returned a moment later with an armload of wood, which he stacked neatly beside the fireplace. Then he added two logs to the dying fire, adjusting them until the flames caught properly.

“Thank you, laddie,” Ed said. “I appreciate all you boys are doing.”

“You're welcome.”

I returned the manuscript to its box and packed my things. “Thank you, Ed. This has been so helpful.”

“You're welcome. I'd appreciate a call when you've fixed things.”

“I promise.” I petted Tommy one last time and shook Ed's hand. Then I handed him my card. It looked just like the one Julian had given me when we'd first met, except this one had my name on it. “If you think of anything else, you can reach me at this number.”

Ed peered at the card. “The Velasca? What's that?”

“It's an organization dedicated to preserving folklore, myths, and traditions.”

“Ah, I understand. Good luck to you.”

“Goodbye, Ed.” Áedán shook his hand.

Ed looked up at him. “You're magic too, aren't you?”

Áedán's eyes glowed as he leaned closer to Ed. “I'm one of those you wrote aboot.”

Ed gaped at Áedán, then nodded. “Well, hasn't this just been a momentous day?” He stroked Tommy's head. “The best day. Aye, Tommy?”

Tommy yipped.

“Goodbye, Tommy.” Áedán nodded to the dog, then we left the cottage.

Áedán drove us back to his cottage, both hands on the wheel and his gaze fixed on the road. I didn't try to fill the silence. Some things needed space to breathe before they could be spoken. It surprised me when he'd told Ed who he was, but if anyone deserved to know, it was that old man.

The cottage appeared at last, stone and slate, with the loch beyond it stretching toward the mountains. Áedán backed into the shed, and we went inside, still silent. We'd found what we needed, but this was far from over, and that tarnished our victory. He went to the kitchen, filled the kettle, and put it over the cold hearth. I sat at the table and watched him make a fire, waiting.

Finally, he sat down across from me. His hands rested on the scarred wood, fingers spread.

I asked the question that had been forming in my mind since we'd left Ed's cottage. “Who were you before all this?”