Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  “God I’ve missed you,” said Aidan, burying his face in her hair.

  Damon watched them a little enviously. Raven was a cool character, just like his father but Aidan brought out all the passion and lava that seethed through her veins and which she was so good at hiding. He wished he could make her feel the same. He didn’t know what she saw in Aidan. Yes he was ridiculously good looking in a rough, dangerous sort of way but personally Damon thought he was a wanker. What man in his right mind would spend so much time away when they had a cracker like Raven pining for him to come home? As Aidan joined them at the table Damon forced down all his resentment. As Raven had so forcefully told him they needed Aidan onside if they were going to kill Silas and bring his dad home. He thought Aidan looked tired and dishevelled, no doubt having spent weeks in some hellhole with limited toilet facilities training nasty bastards to do nasty things.

  “Alright mate?” said Damon, extending his hand to him.

  Aidan was surprised to receive such a warm welcome from Damon. As he shook his hand his eyes settled on the electric shock bracelet on Damon’s wrist but he was smart enough not to mention it.

  “Not so bad,” replied Aidan. “You?”

  “I’ll feel better once Dad’s home.”

  “We’ll find him, no worries there.”

  Raven’s eyes flicked from one man to the other, relaxing when neither appeared hostile. Both were very volatile men and violence had ensued on several occasions when they were together. But it seemed they were both determined to behave. If they didn’t she’d make damn sure they suffered for it.

  After they’d finished dinner Aidan and Raven excused themselves before hurrying back to their room, leaving Damon chatting up a waitress. They staggered down the hallway to their room, desperately kissing, Raven attempting to open the door one-handed, her other arm wrapped around her husband as he kissed her neck. Finally she got the door open and they stumbled inside, Aidan kicking the door shut behind them and pressing her up against the wall, pulling her black jumper off over her head and throwing it to the floor.

  “It’s so good to see these feathers again,” he said, running his fingers over the black raven feathers tattooed on her skin, covering her arms and back, touching the tops of her breasts.

  Raven moaned as he kissed the feathers on her chest, his tongue lightly tracing the outline.

  “I need you right now,” he said, yanking down her jeans and underwear. He pressed his forehead to hers, his skin burning for her. “God I’ve waited weeks for this.”

  She gave him a deep kiss, tearing off his jumper, gasping as he entered her.

  “It’s been agony being away from you,” he breathed, sliding the straps of her bra down her arms, kissing a trail down her shoulder to her chest.

  “It’s been agony without you too,” she murmured. To her surprise he was moving slowly and gently. Usually when they were reunited it was fast and frantic.

  “I want it to last,” he said in answer to her thoughts, sweat standing out on his brow. “I’ve dreamed of nothing but this for so long and I want it to last forever.”

  It struck her that he hadn’t rushed over here just because he was worried about Silas. He’d missed her too. Sometimes she feared he was losing interest or that one day he wouldn’t bother coming home. This proved how groundless those fears were.

  “Not yet,” he growled when she teetered on the brink.

  “I can’t help it.” She threw back her head, her nails digging into his bare shoulders. “Oh God Aidan,” she cried.

  “My little bird,” he groaned.

  They clung onto each other, bodies trembling, Aidan releasing a long breath as his body relaxed. He carried her to the bed and lay her back on it, gazing down at her and stroking her hair back off her face. “I feel whole again.”

  She smiled and touched his face. “I’m so glad you’re here. Has it been rough?”

  He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “Yeah. Gets worse every year. You wouldn’t believe some of the wankers I’ve been training. The men who wanted my skills used to be disciplined, purposeful. Now they’re just nutters wanting to learn how to kill as many people as possible. I turned some away. They didn’t take it well.”

  “Did they attack you?”

  “They tried,” he replied, mischief and a bit of the Aidan Gallagher mayhem twinkling in his blue-green eyes.

  “You ready for a career change?”

  “I think security work might be more my thing now than training mercenaries. The pay isn’t as good but I’m fucking tired of it.”

  “Or you could come home.”

  His eyes flared with hope. “That’s the dream.”

  “Let’s see how we get on.”

  He kissed her. “Are you okay? I know how much One Eye means to you.”

  “The frustration that we’ve not found him yet makes me want to scream.” She allowed her armour to fall away, the vulnerability shining through. “I keep telling Damon not to think that he might be dead already, that he wouldn’t let Silas kill him but I can’t help wondering it myself.”

  “He’s not dead. He’s too stubborn.”

  This simple statement reassured her. “Yeah, you’re right.” She wondered whether she should tell him about the vision she’d had during the mescaline trip before dismissing the idea. Aidan could be jealous, especially when they spent so much time apart, so she didn’t think telling him she’d been dreaming about a handsome stranger would go down very well.

  “I need a shower,” he said.

  “You are a bit ripe.”

  “Sorry,” he replied with his stunning smile. “I was training when I got your call, so I came straight over. Facilities out there are basic at best. I was lucky to get a shower twice a week. Actually, forget the shower. I’m running a bath and you’re getting in with me.”

  “Okay,” she said as he pulled her to her feet. “But we might get stuck in there when all the dirt off you turns the water into mud.”

  “Still funny my little bird.” He pulled her to him. “Go on, say it.”

  “My powerful hawk,” she said flatly, stroking the tattoo of the bird on his neck.

  “That’s better,” he said before pulling her into the bathroom.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Maybe you should stay here this evening Nik instead of coming to the pub?” said Alan.

  One Eye remained defiant. “I will not hide away.”

  “I respect that and I think it’s very brave of you but what if things get ugly?”

  “I’m sure I can handle it,” he replied with an amused smile. “And cowering in here just makes me look more guilty. I’ve nothing to hide.”

  “It’ll be fine,” said Helen, prodding at her mobile phone. “Nik’s right. He’s got to get out there and show everyone he’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I agree,” said Frederick.

  “Ah Luke,” smiled Cherie when he appeared in the lounge. “We’re all off to the pub. Want to come?”

  “Yes, why not?” he beamed, his smile making her blush, which didn’t go unnoticed by Alan.

  “This will be such fun,” Luke whispered to One Eye, the two of them hanging back from the rest of the pack as they made their way in the dark to the pub. “Hunting down a killer. I do like a challenge.”

  One Eye was dismayed by the zeal in his bright green eyes. He halted him, allowing the others to go on ahead so they wouldn’t overhear. “Listen, I want you to behave. No seducing the local women…”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  “…no getting drunk, no playing your practical jokes. But most of all, you do not under any circumstances tell your goat story.”

  “But that’s my greatest story.”

  “Great is not the word I’d use for that debacle. No goats. Understood?”

  “You’re no fun anymore One Eye. Sorry, Nik,” he added with an infuriating smile.

  “Things are very tenuous. If we’re lucky enough to avoid being killed by S
ilas then we might get strung up from a lamppost by the locals.”

  “By God things are never dull with you around. And don’t worry. I will obey, great leader.”

  Helen glanced over her shoulder. “What are you two whispering about?”

  “Nik was just telling me about recent events,” grinned Luke.

  Her suspicious eyes flicked between the two of them. “Are you sure you don’t know each other?”

  “We’ve never met before,” said a cheerful Luke, revelling in the game. “Some people just get on from the moment they meet. Already Nik feels like an old friend but as he has amnesia, even if we were old acquaintances he wouldn’t remember.”

  “Hmmm,” was all she said, although her eyes held a lot of knowing. “Where are you from Luke? That’s not an English accent.”

  “Oh, here and there but I’ve spent most of my life in Norway.”

  “That’s strange because even though Nik sounds English I’m sure I’ve caught a Scandinavian twang in his voice.”

  “Only natural. We’ve all got viking blood in our veins. They did enjoy sowing their wild oats wherever they went.”

  “I suppose.”

  “So who do you think killed Bess?” he eagerly asked.

  “You’re not shy about coming forward, are you?” countered Helen.

  “Never have been. Shyness is such a hindrance, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose and I think it was Duncan.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A local farmer. He’s been after Bess for years but she always rejected him, not surprising because he’s so bloody miserable.”

  “Handsome?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “I’ve found that a handsome face can often override the most negative personality traits.”

  “You’re very harsh on us women Luke.”

  “I’m talking from experience.”

  “You have a handsome face. Do you have the negative personality traits to match?”

  “That is for you to find out,” he winked.

  One Eye rolled his single eye. Had he just made things ten times worse by bringing Luke here?

  The pub once again came to a halt when One Eye walked in, only the curious stares had been replaced by hostile ones. The ladies of the library came to his aid, sitting either side of him in solidarity. Fortunately Luke’s arrival took off some of the pressure, everyone curious to meet him, his relaxed demeanour and good looks drawing them to him, although the ladies of the library remained firmly in One Eye’s corner.

  As he talked to Roberta and Helena he made sure to keep one ear on Luke’s conversation with the locals, Arthur and the landlord particularly enjoying the tales of his adventures around Norway and the rest of Scandinavia. He was sensible and didn’t tell his goat story, which people found funny or didn’t believe altogether. More often than not they were deeply offended.

  One Eye relaxed as the atmosphere in the pub relaxed. Perhaps more of the locals were convinced of his innocence than he’d initially thought?

  The calm was short-lived. The door banged open and Duncan tramped in, looking brooding and troubled. His gaze fixated on One Eye immediately and his body seemed to grow, fingers twitching, muscles tensing.

  “Oy you,” said the landlord, pointing at Duncan. “I’ll have no violence in my pub.”

  “Relax,” replied Duncan. “I wouldn’t attack a lame pensioner.”

  There was a snigger from Luke’s direction.

  One Eye wanted to protest that he was only fifty five but he couldn’t as he was supposed to have memory loss, so he was forced to swallow the insult. Not that he found that very difficult, he’d had to swallow many during his time wandering. He wondered if it was some sort of test on Duncan’s part. Plenty of people had made stupid mistakes when angry. Judging by his vague look of disappointment, One Eye assumed he was right.

  Duncan took a seat at the bar, the landlord handing him a pint, which he mechanically drank while keeping watch on One Eye, who was in turn trying to watch both Duncan and Luke. Watching two people when you only had one eye wasn’t easy.

  Connell was the next to arrive who, to One Eye’s dismay, homed in on him rather than Duncan. A tall, broad man with a scowl and messy greying hair walked in with him. There was a commanding intensity about him that drew everyone’s gaze in his direction. Connell whispered in his ear and nodded in One Eye’s direction, the newcomer staring at him with dark intelligent eyes.

  “That’s Detective Inspector Campbell from Flodigarry, the next village,” Roberta told One Eye. “Although he’s based in Portree. Connell’s nose has been put well and truly out of joint. I don’t know why he’s surprised, they don’t usually let constables handle a murder inquiry. I should know, I watch the TV shows.”

  “Maybe Connell should watch them too,” smiled One Eye, making them both titter.

  He noticed Campbell’s head snap his way at the sound of laughter, his gaze telling him he thought he was the devil, even though he hadn’t been the source of the sound.

  “He’s coming over,” said Helena excitedly.

  Before Campbell could approach One Eye the door burst open and the tall, thin man who ran the local glamping site rushed in. “There’s a bear on the loose.”

  Ronnie’s deep laugh rolled around the room. “A bear? There haven’t been any bears around these parts since the tenth century. Or has this one been in hiding?”

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” retorted Stan. “I was checking on the wigwams when I heard this growl. I turned around…and there it was. About ten feet tall, towering over me, its claws like knives.”

  There was a moment of silence before everyone burst out laughing.

  “It’s true,” yelled Stan over the din.

  “Course it is Stan,” said Cherie. “We all know when you say you’re going to check on the wigwams that you’re really going to down a load of Scotch.”

  Arthur leaned into Stan before recoiling and wafting the air before his nose. “You smell like a distillery.”

  “I am not drunk. I admit I had a wee nip to keep out the cold but that was it.” He looked to Connell. “Give me a breathalyser test, I’ll prove it.”

  “I don’t carry them around with me,” he replied.

  “Tell me more about this bear,” said Campbell. “You sure it was a bear? Did it have fur?”

  “Sir, you can’t be serious?” said Connell.

  The look Campbell gave him silenced him.

  “Tell me more about this bear Mr…?”

  “Stevens. Stan Stevens.”

  “Calm yourself Mr Stevens and tell me exactly what you saw, not what you think you saw.”

  “Right, well, there was this shadow ten feet tall…okay, maybe not ten. Perhaps seven.”

  “And did you see fur?”

  “Well, not exactly fur. It was so dark.”

  “Could the figure have been wearing dark clothes?”

  “I suppose.”

  “And these claws, tell me more.”

  “I didn’t see all the claws, just one. Long and silver.”

  “And the eyes, what were they like?”

  “Black as pitch with the devil in them. Sorry,” he added when Campbell’s eyebrow arched. “They were black but it was so dark I suppose they would be. Surprisingly human too, a lot of intelligence in them. The head was covered in thick black fur though.”

  “Could that fur have been hair by any chance?”

  Stan was becoming less sure of himself by the second. “It could, perhaps. You understand, the only light was from the torch I dropped on the ground, I got such a fright when I turned round and that great big thing was looming over me. I ran, leaving the torch behind and I won’t be ashamed of that. If you’d seen that devil you would have run too. It’s lucky I know the ground so well I could run here without need of the torch.”

  The pub had gone quiet to listen to this exchange, thinking that Stan hadn’t seen a bear but he’d certainly seen something.r />
  “Are there any guests staying at the glamping site Stan?”

  “No. The last ones checked out two days ago. It goes dead this time of year.” He thought of Bess and shuddered.

  “Thank you Mr Stevens,” said Campbell, dismissing him.

  “What do you think Sir?” said Connell.

  Campbell nodded him to one side as the pub resumed its noisy chatter, the landlord handing the shaking Stan a stiffener. “I think Stan saw a man carrying a knife not long after a woman was stabbed through the heart with a blade that still hasn’t been found.”

  “You think it was the killer?”

  “I think it very likely only his imagination got the better of him. I also think dropping the torch might have saved his life.”

  “How so?”

  “If the killer is a stranger to the area he won’t know the terrain in the dark as well as Stan…”

  “Meaning he was unable to chase him?”

  “Exactly. Of course, this is all supposition. It could have been an innocent passer-by and Stan’s imagination and the whisky got the better of him.”

  “God I hope so. I don’t like the sound of what Stan saw at all.”

  “And if it was the killer it puts our two prime suspects in the clear,” he said, looking from Duncan to One Eye.

  “That’s a bit convenient.”

  “Perhaps a bit too convenient. Either of them could have arranged for Stan to have that little fright to throw us off the scent.”

  “That’s true too.”

  “We must assume nothing.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Connell, gazing up at this man who he was rapidly coming to respect. Naturally he’d been pissed off that the case was being taken away from him but now he realised how much he could learn from Campbell.

  “The law says innocent until proven guilty,” continued Campbell, enjoying dispensing his wisdom to an eager audience. “But in my experience it’s best to assume all suspects are guilty. That way you don’t miss anything.”