by Helen Harper
Okay, so there were a few lingering traces of paranoia. Figuring it would be better to completely clear the air of everything first, I stepped out into the shop front and headed for the pile of books where I’d buried the Fae text. Would Mrs Alcoon recognize it? Would she try to explain it away as some kind of Cyrillic book? I pulled it out from under the other books and managed somehow to avoid disturbing the entire tower, then followed Mrs Alcoon into the little kitchen where she already turned on the kettle and was spooning more dried green stuff into the teapot. I would really have to bring my own coffee tomorrow. It felt good to be thinking about tomorrow.
As before, the vibrations of the book made my skin tingle. I thrust it out to her. “I found this when I was cleaning up earlier. I don’t recognise the language,” I lied. “Do you know what it is?”
She took it and opened the cover with care, then her eyes widened and she put the book carefully on a shelf behind her. “Now you are probably really going to think I’m crazy.”
I looked at her askance.
She explained. “It’s from the Wee Ones. At least that’s what my grandmother told me. There are several books like it kicking around here. They never seem to be there when you look for them but, when you’re least expecting it, they suddenly appear as if out of nowhere.”
Much like the Fae themselves, I though sourly. Still, I wanted to know exactly how much she knew so I pressed her further. “The Wee Ones? Who are they?”
“Faeries, dear. Sorry, I mean, Mackenzie. They really do exist. Or so I’m told – I’ve never actually seen one.” She looked at me with intelligence behind her eyes. “Oh, I see. You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? You already knew it was a Faerie book. You DO actually recognise the language.”
I nodded, feeling a bit bad at being caught out at trying to test her. Might as well tell the truth then, I figured. “Yes, I knew. I just – I just wondered why you had it. Or them as you say there are more of them.”
“It’s more a case of they have me rather than the other way around. Those books have a mind of their own, I swear it.”
The kettle hissed and spat steam, chugging its way to the boil. Mrs Alcoon washed out the cup that was in the sink and dried it with a small teatowel then reached into the cupboard for another.
“Now before I get the tea ready, why don’t you tell me what you know about Faeries, Mackenzie. How did you know it was a Faerie book?” There was nothing in either her face or her voice to suggest anything other than honest curiosity.
“I used to live with a group of people who knew about…such things,” I admitted. “But then I had to leave them because things got – uh, well, they got bad.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You don’t have to tell me about it. But I’m here to listen if you do.”
I smiled at her weakly and she smiled back. In that moment I realised that everything was going to be okay. Mrs Alcoon poured the hot water into the teapot and gestured to the table and chairs next door. I sat down and curled my feet around the legs of the chair, relaxing back into the wooden frame. This was good.
Chapter Seven
The next few days passed with surprising swiftness – and with very little action. There were no more disturbing Voice communications from Corrigan, for which I was eternally grateful, and I had settled into a routine at Clava Books, even being fortunate enough to serve a number of customers looking for information on the local sights and sounds. I spent most of my time rearranging the shelves and properly cataloguing the inventory. Mrs Alcoon hadn’t quite made it into the twenty-first century just yet, and the shop was computer less, but I brought my battered laptop in with me every morning and planned to print out the inventory once I was finished, so that she could make use of it too. Neither of us had mentioned the Fae book again, but it sat on one of the dusty shelves in the kitchen and demanded my attention every time I entered the little room to make myself a drink. At least I’d finally managed to bring in a small cafetiere and some proper coffee so I could avoid the herbal concoctions that seemed to be getting stronger and stranger by the day.
Walking home after putting in a couple of easy hours, I stopped to look in the window of a little haberdashery store. There were balls of wool and knitting needles displayed at what seemed to be knockdown prices and I wondered whether I could teach myself to knit so I could sort out some proper winter wear. A scarf couldn’t be that hard to do, surely? I turned on my heel to go inside when I felt a hand clasp my shoulder. Without thinking, I grabbed it and twisted hard, and was rewarded with a pained ooph. I looked down to see who my would-be assailant was and was faintly pleased to note that it was my one-time nemesis, Derek.
“What do you want, arsehole?”
“Just thought I’d say hello, sweetheart,” he gasped. “Now let me fuck go.”
I twisted harder and he moaned. “You’re a hard bitch. Thought you’d have had the sense to get out of Inverness by now.”
I leaned in towards his ear and spoke softly. “Why? Because I should be scared of you? Does it look like I’m afraid, Derek?” I gripped his wrist harder to emphasise my point.
“Fuck you!”
Suddenly his arm was wrenched from my grasp and he went flying backwards. It happened so quickly that I barely had time to register it before a trilby hatted figure swept a bow in front of me.
“Well, now that’s hardly the way to talk a lady now, is it?”
“Piss off, Solus.” I rotated away from both him and the now sprawled Derek and made to move away.
He stepped in front of me with ease, blocking my path and I looked at him in irritated exasperation.
“Leave me, alone.”
“I will leave you alone when you tell me what you are.”
Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I aimed a sharp kick at his shin, which he unfortunately dodged. “I told you. I don’t know what I am. Besides, I am no threat to either you or yours so what’s the big deal?”
“You’re a conundrum, Mackenzie. Or is it Jane? Perhaps I should just call you Red?”
Solus reached out and brushed the hair away from my face. I jerked backwards, although not quite quickly enough.
Shooting Derek a quick glance, I snapped at the Fae. “Watch it, Seelie shithead.”
He smiled, baring his teeth. It wasn’t entirely pleasant and I could barely suppress a shudder. “Oh, I think your little friend has got more than enough to worry about right now without listening in our little chat.” His smile grew wider. “I could take care of him for you, you know. It wouldn’t be hard. I could make him forget he ever knew you with a quick breath. Or perhaps punish him to make him understand the error of his ways? Give him a donkey’s head to befuddle medical science?”
“Plagiarising Shakespeare now, are you?”
Solus snorted. “More like he plagiarised us. Midsummer night’s dream – what a ridiculous notion. Although,” he took a step towards me, “you do realise that it’s almost the midwinter solstice? Strange things happen up at Clava Cairns on that particular day. But you probably know all about that having visited there already.”
I scowled. “Following me? I’d have thought you’d have better things to do.”
“Oh, I’m highly entertained just by being in your vicinity.” He looked me up and down assessingly. “I think what I’ll do is give you a nickname all of my own. That way I can be sure I won’t be accused of plagiarising anybody else. How does ‘Mule’ sound?”
I glared at him and tried to sidestep around. He moved with me and I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check.
“No,” he continued musingly, “you might be as stubborn as a mule but I don’t think being compared to a packhorse quite works. Perhaps I should keep it simple and go with ‘Fire’?”
My head snapped up at that one but fortunately Solus didn’t seem to notice and carried on. “But, no, that might prove difficult around the police. If people randomly call out ‘Fire’ when you’re around, they may just get out their guns and sh
oot you and then where would I be?”
“The police in Scotland don’t carry guns you feckless Fae. And my name is Mack.”
“You must miss having people around you who call you that,” he stated smoothly. “Why don’t I make you feel a bit better about that?”
Before I could stop him, Solus encircled one arm around my waist. I yanked away from him but his grip was tight – it didn’t really matter anyway because almost as soon as he had hold of me, the air started to shimmer. It took a second or two for it to sink in and then I really started to struggle in alarm.
“Solus, what the fuck are you doing?” I spat.
But I knew. The fucking idiot had decided to transport me somewhere using that handy Fae tactic of nipping in and out of dimensional existence. God only knew where he’d decided to go, pulling me along for the unhappy ride. Wherever it was I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be anywhere that I’d want to go. My whole stomach exploded in flame in a way that I’d not felt in months, not since Iabartu, and this time I let the sensation flood my body. Because I was furious. How dare he do this?
The ripples in the air turned purple and then silver. I blinked several times to try to maintain my vision but it was to no avail, everything remained blurry. Nausea rose in my stomach, combating the rising fire of ire. All of a sudden I realised that Solus’ arm was no longer round my waist and I was falling forward onto a polished wooden floor, retching. My head was spinning and I felt incredibly ill. I choked and spat, trying to regain a sense of self.
After a few moments, once my poor stomach had finally settled, I looked up to see a pair of shiny stylish wingtips in front of me. My gaze travelled upwards. Well tailored black trousers, snugly fitted at the groin, an unbuttoned white shirt, with a trail of black hair peeping out leading upwards to a well sculpted chest and a rather bemused set of golden green eyes flashing a hint of surprised satisfaction down at me.
Oh fuck.
“Well I knew we’d meet again, kitten, I just didn’t expect you to suddenly materialise and hock up the contents of your stomach onto my floor.”
I scrambled to my feet as fast I could and backed away until I felt a solid wall and couldn’t go any further, my heart thudding loud in my ears. I looked around, panicked, desperately searching for a way out and realised that I was in a huge bedroom. Corrigan’s bedroom. Oh God. Not only that, but my humanity wasn’t being masked by any scented lotion this time. All Corrigan had to do was to take one small sniff and my secret would be out. The Cornish pack – my surrogate family - had never been in more danger. If I ever saw Solus again, I’d rip his throat out.
The Lord Alpha stared at me. “You look frightened. That’s not the Mackenzie I remember. So why don’t you tell me just how you get here and why you’re so afraid.”
He took a step forward and I threw up my arms in warning. “Don’t come any closer! I…” Shit, I what? “I, er, might have been exposed to something when I was transported here. And, in fact, where is here?”
Please don’t say Scotland, I inwardly prayed. If this was London then I would still have time to get out of Inverness and away from him. Assuming Solus ever decided to transport me back that was.
“You’re in the bastion of the Brethren.” He licked his lips, slowly. I swallowed. “I don’t think anyone has ever managed to invade our fort before without setting off a very elaborate alarm system. So, you’re going to do tell me how and why you’re here.”
My mouth was suddenly dry. Out of nowhere came a whining siren then the sound of banging. “Finally,” Corrigan murmured softly, his gaze intent on me. “Well, little cat?”
I pulled my posture up straight and tried to stop cowering. “I’m not a cat, my Lord, I’m a hamster.” At least that was what the smell of Julia’s lotion had suggested when I’d had to slather it over myself to keep him from discovering that I wasn’t actually a were-anything back when he’d come with the rest of the stupid brethren to investigate John’s death in Cornwall.
“Of course, you are.” His eyes gleamed with flecks of dancing gold.
“And, as to your question, I don’t know how I got here. One minute I was walking down the street, minding my own business and the next thing I know I’m throwing up on your lovely floor. I apologise. I will leave and get out of your way.” I looked pointedly at his half bare chest. “You’re clearly in the middle of something.”
He snapped forward in a blur of movement and gripped both my arms, leaning in close. “You’re not going anywhere, Mackenzie.”
Shit, shit, shit. He must be able to smell me now. I sent up a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening to keep the Cornish pack safe. The panic inside me melded with the heat of my bloodfire and I exploded into a twist to wrench away from him. What I hadn’t counted on was just how strong Corrigan actually was as I barely managed to move a couple of inches. Without thinking, I started squirming and clawing, trying whatever I could to pull myself away from him. I punched into air and missed connecting with his body, lashed out with my feet trying to kick him, but he just shifted his weight against me until I was completely pinned against the wall.
He smelled clean with just a hint of spicy aftershave. I waited for the inevitable realisation that my own scent was all wrong to hit him. Maybe I could get away before I had to answer any questions about it. And then I’d go and hide in a cave for the rest of my pitiful existence. Isn’t that what dragons did anyway? The silver needles were in holding my hair together at the back; if I could just reach out and grab one of them…I strained and just came up against the steel of his muscles. His face swam forward and he looked me directly in the eyes, then he started to lean in forward until our noses were almost touching. My heart was banging painfully against my ribcage and the fire inside me changed somehow. It was transforming from an angry, scared, attack mode heat to something altogether more consuming, more passionate, more…
A door to my right swung open and a voice suddenly filled the room. “My Lord Alpha! There’s an intruder somewhere in the building, we need to –“
Corrigan turned and snarled at the voice, the owner of which immediately backed away with abject groveling apologies. I rolled my eyes. Not much had changed in the Brethren then.
The interruption had at least allowed me to regain some of my ragged emotions. He’d obviously not noticed that I smelled like a human yet. I had no idea why not but I had to keep my fingers crossed that it stayed that way. Maybe he had a cold. I cleared my throat. “My Lord Alpha, I believe I mentioned earlier that I may have been exposed to some kind of, um, disease, on my way here. I suggest you back away as it could very well be lethal.”
Corrigan stilled for a moment, his grip on my wrists tightening until I winced in pain. “What kind of disease?”
He’d fallen for that? Clearly the Lord Alpha wasn’t as intelligent as I’d once thought. I widened my eyes to convey the horror even more dramatically. “A terrible, terrible one. It makes all your hair and teeth fall out and your skin turn green. Then it starts to attack your nervous system making you throw up violently.” I gestured to the remains of my earlier lunch now deposited in a sticky mess on his polished floor. “As you see. So you should stay away from me. I’m sure it’s incredibly contagious.”
He appeared to relax infinitesimally and growled at me. “I’ll take my chances.” His slid his hands from my wrists up to my arms and gripped painfully. “Now tell me where you’ve been, why you ran away and how you got here. In that order.”
“I’m a rogue, my Lord,” I spat. “I don’t have to answer to you anymore.”
“Funny,” he said softly, “I don’t think you ever answered to me, even when we first met.” Tell me now.
He was using his Voice to command me. This was too easy. I looked into his emerald green eyes and stated firmly, “No.”
I was pretty sure that once shifters went rogue, their alpha’s Voice no longer worked on them so I could avoid having to pretend that I was compelled to answer. What it did mean as well was tha
t Corrigan still thought I was shifter, lack of shifter scent or not. I’d worry about the why later, right now I was just relieved. For his part, however, he wasn’t as impressed at my bravura as I was, and he pulled his right hand away from my arm and slammed it around my throat, choking the breath out of me.
“Mackenzie, you need to start talking before I rip it out of you.”
My bloodfire flickered back into its usual action at the violence. I sent a quick thank you to whoever was looking down on me for that small mercy. Corrigan had moved enough that I could get some purchase with my legs so I pulled my knee up as hard as I could and shoved with every ounce of strength I had into his groin. He immediately let his grip loosen from around my neck and gasped in pain. I managed to move away from him and the wall, and into the centre of the room.
Corrigan rotated round and glared at me furiously. He was obviously still in pain but trying not to show it.
“Who’s the big bad Lord Alpha now?” I taunted softly.
He snarled at me in return, sparks flying from his eyes. A sharp knock came at the closed door and a muffled voice called through. “My Lord Alpha? Is everything okay?”
I blinked. Oh fuck that was –
“It’s fine, Tom. Go away.” Corrigan’s voice was hoarse but he was obviously not going to be crippled for life. Shame. He watched me, raising his eyebrows. “Do you remember your little wolf boyfriend, kitten? It must be difficult for someone of your proclivity to keep track of everyone you sleep with. Would it hurt you to know that he barely remembers you? He won’t even mention your name and when I ask him – or his fiancée – they both just clam up. You clearly have an interesting effect on those around you.”
So Betsy and Tom were engaged? That was good news; in fact, I almost betrayed myself by smiling at the information that Corrigan had probably hoped would hurt my feelings. I wondered as well whether the geas was still in place and that was why they both clammed up when he interrogated them about me. Interesting…
I lifted up a shoulder and attempted to remain nonchalant. “Pass on my sincerest congratulations to them both. And now, my Lord, I must take my leave.” I glanced over at the windows, which were draped in some kind of opulent golden brocade curtain. “Which floor are we on?”