The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance)

by Merabeth James

  Something rustled in the grass close by, then a wet feathery touch brushed across his face. He shivered. It was nothing, he told himself firmly. He didn’t...couldn’t...wouldn’t believe in the possibility of ghosts like the rest of the family. Even Rayne had been rather hysterical after her encounters at Hensley Hall. This Meaghan character...Orianna look alike or whatever she was... seemed pretty substantial to him. Clearly, she was as crazy as they come and he had to admit that glowing bit was hard to explain. How did she manage that? Must be a chemical of some kind she used on her body and that gauzy white thing she floated around in, he mused. Well, there was that, too ...the floaty thing. Not that any of it really mattered. He had a job to do and no ghost would stop him. Someone laughed softly close to his ear and he took off running faster than he would have thought possible.

  Zigzagging his way through the gravestones, he finally reached the double doors of the old church. One gaped open and he slipped inside, letting his eyes to adjust to what had seemed like total blackness. Moonlight streamed through the broken stained glass windows whose colors were muted with the night. Now what, he thought? He had no idea how to reach the tower. From its position, the stairs should be along the back wall somewhere, he guessed. Moving cautiously, he felt his way forward like a blind man without a cane until, something caught at his foot and he pitched forward, landing hard on his hands and knees.

  Meaghan’s light, whatever its dubious source, would be more than welcome right about now, he thought wryly, as he flexed his wrists and pulled himself back up, using what felt like a marble font of some kind. “At the risk of being repetitive, now what?” he asked himself out loud. As if in answer to his question, a small point of light appeared out of nowhere and began to dart around him. He watched in amazement as the orb grew in size, then shape shifted and began to take another form. It was Meaghan. If he had ever doubted she was a ghost before, he had no doubts now, but she was so like Orianna he couldn’t help his shudder of revulsion, when she touched his face with a long white finger and sighed plaintively.

  “Allyn, did ye call Meaghan to ye?” she asked, walking her fingers along his cheek and down the side of his neck.

  He pushed her hand roughly away and her dark eyes grew huge with hurt and bewilderment. Her lower lip began to quiver and Allyn tried to stop the flow of impending tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just that I’m not used to being touched by a ghost, if that’s what you are.”

  She blinked rapidly several times and smiled. “Me? A ghostie? I have not thought about it over long. I am just what I am...what they made me be when they hacked me to pieces...the Baobhan Sith... because they were afeert of me,” she said with a shrug, “and maybe they had the right of it. The last laddie I took was little more than a bairn. My faither gathered my bits and wrapped them in white silk all the way from the orient. I lie over there in the mausoleum, where ye were hiding from her. She cannae have ye, Allyn. I saw ye first standing in the moonlight so fair...so bonnie. .She is naught but evil, that one, and has taken already taken much that is mine by right. ”

  She was clearly working herself into a state and Allyn knew she needed redirection, quickly, so he said, “I’m quite sure everything you say is true. You are the real Lady in White...and quite a beautiful one, but right now the important thing is for me to send a distress signal to a boat offshore. To do that, I need to find my way to the tower without breaking my damned neck or any other part of my anatomy. Can you light the way for me?”

  She laughed gaily. “This way, bonnie Allyn,” she whispered, as she began to dance forward.

  With Meaghan lighting the way, he could see well enough to pick his way through the debris without further mishap. He found the small door hidden amongst the paneling and tugged on its metal ring. It opened with a loud creak and he stepped inside, then looked up the dark shaft lit by moonlight at the top.

  Shuddering, he took a deep breath and sent Meaghan on ahead, then followed her up the narrow steep stairs that hugged the wall. A sheer drop was on the other side with no railing to prevent a fall. He shuddered again. Heights had always scared the sh-t out of him and if he stopped to consider what he was doing, he would probably bolt like a rabbit. He couldn’t allow himself that way out. His sisters needed him and, fleetingly, he thought, he had never really been needed before. It felt both good and scary at the same time.

  He was panting with exhaustion by the time he reached the top and cursed himself for his weakness. The old bell still hung there and he wondered when it had last rung over this god-forsaken village. Picking his way carefully, he followed the narrow wooden walkway that edged the perimeter to the lantern, whose light must be visible for miles.

  He looked out over the dark water, but the light from only one boat was visible. Okay...here goes, he thought, as he stripped off his sweater and held it in front of the lantern. Three dots...three dashes...three dots, he counted, then paused and waited for a response. There was none, so he began again...and again...and again. If necessary, I’ll do this all night, he thought grimly, or until someone came to stop him, which was a very distinct possibility. Not just the good guys were watching!

  Meanwhile, Meaghan began to grow bored with his lack of attention and started to dance around the walkway, but soon tired of that as well. Then she tried tickling Allyn’s ear as he counted his dashes and dots, but he brushed her hand away impatiently. Hurt and confused, she sighed deeply and said with more than a touch of petulance, “I want to dance with ye, Allyn, while the moon still rides the sky...fat and bold and made for all I would do to ye, if ye but let me. Ye are so verra bonnie, Allyn. I would drink of your sweetness...just a wee sip no more. Come away....”

  “For heaven’s sake stop it, Meaghan! Can’t you see I’m busy? I haven’t got time for your foolishness now!”

  Meaghan’s soft glow began to darken, as she spat out, angrily, “No time! Just for that, I will be leaving ye to her and her great beast. I hope he eats ye up!” and with that, she poofed into nothingness.

  Allyn looked at the spot where she had been, feeling a combination of remorse and irritation. Whatever else she was, and he didn’t want to speculate on that too long, she was a woman and just like every one he knew she didn’t like not getting her way. Normally, he was happy to indulge them if it got him what he wanted, but in this case? He shrugged and returned to his signaling, though by now he could barely stand upright.

  It seemed like hours later, when he rubbed his eyes, wearily, and leaned against the wall. He would rest...a few moments no more, he thought. He was amazed that no one from the manor had spotted him yet and then he heard a noise below. Someone had opened the tower door. He looked around desperately, but there was no place to hide. Whoever was coming up the stairs had him cornered like a rat.

  The footfall on the stone steps was stealthily moving upward. The only way out of the tower was down those same steps or the bell rope that looked ancient and frayed. He shot a quick glance down into the darkness far below him and shuddered. “It’s okay, Allyn. It’s just like the rope climb in gym class,” he lied to himself in a hoarse whisper. Grabbing the rope, he began a hasty descent, praying fervently all the way. The bell rang raucously but there was no help for that. A dark figure on the steps made a grab for him, as he passed and then a shot rang out, the muzzle flash lighting the tower briefly. Startled, he almost lost his grip, but, gritting his teeth, he kept going until he reached the end of the rope and dropped the short distance to the stone floor. Someone shouted and he could hear the clatter of feet racing to intercept him, but an adrenaline rush carried him through the church unscathed. Once outside, he scrambled for cover behind the closest headstone.

  Peering around its side, he saw a figure appear in the doorway. It was Angus...no mistake. The same Angus who had betrayed Charlie and delivered her into Seth’s evil hands. He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned and vanished back inside the church, where he could well spend precious moments looking for him. H
unkering down in the thick grass behind the tall granite tombstone, he considered his options. He would need a place to hide and quickly. Where wouldn’t Angus look for him? And then it came to him...his old room in the manse under their very noses! Of course, there was still Tilda to consider, but he would have to take his chances.

  Crouching low, he zigzagged through the cemetery till he reached the low hedges in front of the manse. The kitchen was well lit but the front of the house was dark. Taking a deep breath, he darted across the open space and up the front steps. The door opened at his touch and he smiled at his good luck.

  He stepped inside and eased the door quietly shut behind him, then listened intently. All was quiet except for the tick of the long case clock in the hall and the clatter of pans in the kitchen. At least now he knew where Tilda was. Running into her in the dark had not been an enticing proposition!

  Moving as quickly as he could, he crossed the dark entry hall to the stairs and made his way up, hugging the wall for support as his adrenalin rush deserted him. The upper hall was as deserted as he expected. Everything was going just fine, he thought. Angus was looking for him outside, Tilda was in the kitchen, and safety was just a few steps ahead. Then he heard the front door open and Angus bellow angrily, “It was him messing with the light. I almost had the little bugger, but he got away.” Tilda’s voice joined his and then both were muffled, as they pushed their way through the swing door into the kitchen.

  His heartbeat was as rapid as a gerbil’s by the time he opened the door to his old room and closed it behind him. He crossed to the window and looked up the hill, where lights seemed to be on all over the manor. Meg should be up there by now, he thought grimly. Had she found Charlie? And just what could Meg do if she had? If only he could be sure his signal had reached someone on the right side of this mess. But Meg had been right for once. Who dicked around with Morse Code these days? But who was being the negative one now? Someone had seen it and help was on the way…it had to be. Holding that thought dear, he crawled under the bed to wait out the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Meg sat for a moment in the road where she’d fallen, then laboriously hauled herself to her feet. The flashlight she’d stuck in the waistband of her jeans had fallen out and rolled a few feet away. She scrambled to recover it and sighed in relief when her fingers closed around its cold surface. Pointing it towards the ground, she held her breath and flipped the switch. So far so good...it wasn’t broken and neither was she, she thought, which would make what she had to do a whole lot easier.

  Brushing off her jeans, she retucked the flashlight and looked up at the manor that was still some distance up the moors. It seemed like light streamed from every window, which wouldn’t be helpful for what she had in mind...or almost had in mind. The final bits were yet to be worked out!

  She planned on sneaking back in the way they’d sneaked out, but beyond that her plan fizzled. How was she ever going to find her sister in that monstrous stone pile riddled with secret passages and rooms that Seth probably knew well, since Orianna certainly knew her way about. Maybe Meaghan could be persuaded to come back and help, she thought. At least it was worth a try.

  As fast as she could, she climbed the steep slope, keeping to whatever cover she could find along the way. Chanting Meaghan’s name as she trudged, she hoped to see her appear in usual Meaghan fashion, though a bright glowing ball might be a little obvious to anyone looking their way. Nothing happened, so she tried begging. That didn’t work either. She must be busy elsewhere else, she decided, and hoped she wasn’t busy with Allyn who was too weak to resist a seduction that could well leave him sucked dry as a raisin or a ....... She gave up on her metaphor and shook her head. It was stupid to worry about what might happen, when there was so very much ‘happening’ right now.

  Her thoughts carried her as far as the outer wall that fronted the manor. Keeping low, she stayed out of sight of the main gate and circled the wall towards the stable. Hiding in the trees behind it, she looked around. The tack room light was on, but no one seemed to be about. Taking a deep breath, she darted towards the paddock fence and moved along its edge, hoping its scant cover would conceal her from the relentless moon.

  The big bay was in the paddock and nickered a greeting. She held her breath, waiting to see if anyone would investigate the noise. Moving forward, she was dismayed to see the bay following along side, clearly curious about her strange behavior. “Scoot,” she whispered, pushing on the nose he shoved over the fence just above where she crouched. He nickered again and her heart stopped. “Please be a good horse and go some place else. Any place else,” she begged. His tongue flicked out and he lipped a lock of her hair. “Ouch! Stop that,” she cried, pulling a curl out of his mouth and backing out of his reach. He snorted and tossed his head and she took off at a run, heading for the next available cover...a cluster of ornamental trees near the stable doors.

  Deep in the safety of their shadows, one hand, absently, explored the spit soaked curl on top of her head, while she tried to remember the route they had all taken earlier. A howl drifted over the moors. Orianna was out there with Cerberus looking for them. There was something predatory and savagely evil about the woman who looked so much like the playful Meaghan. But then she remembered, Meaghan...playful Meaghan with her childlike smile... was a real Baobhan Sith...a vampire who killed people. Again her thoughts drifted to Allyn. Hopefully, Meaghan wasn’t smiling at him just now.

  Voices sent her crawling deeper into the bushes. Two men passed her in silence so close she could have touched them. Peering through the leaves, she watched until they disappeared around the corner, where Seth’s Land Rover was parked. He had brought her to the house just as she’d thought. Now to get inside and find her!

  She had just started to make her move, when two more men cut across the lawn and headed towards the house. As she ducked back inside the shrubs, a twig snapped. “You hear something?” one man asked.

  Meg stopped breathing, as she waited for the answer. “Probably a fox or somethin’. You're not thinking it's one of them Ravynnes, are you? Why would they come back here?”

  “Well, we have their sister,” the first man replied.

  “You mean the boss has her, we just wish,” was the laughing response, as they moved on.

  "Please be okay, Charlie, she whispered. "You are the strongest person I know and maybe the stubbornest, though you may think otherwise and have often..." She sighed. She had almost reached full babble without Charlie to stop her. Time to get moving again, though the idea of retracing her steps through the manor’s nether regions filled her with horror.

  The moon had slipped behind a scattering of dark silver rimmed clouds and she said a prayer of thanks. A long stretch of open lawn lay between her and the bushes that grew along the manor’s stone foundation. Even with the moon’s cooperation, she would still be a target if anyone happened to look in her direction. Crouching low, she sped across the grass then slid into the bushes and thick growth of ivy. Now to find the cellar doors, she thought. Too bad she hadn’t paid closer attention on their exit, but she hadn’t believed she would ever be’ deja vuing’ her way back here.

  It seemed like she’d gone miles, dodging into the prickly vegetation at every sound, crawling beneath lighted windows, waiting to pass French doors until all seemed clear, but by luck more than anything, she found the cellar doors.

  Opening the right one, she looked down into utter blackness. It was worse than she remembered...far worse. Pulling her flashlight out, she shone it down the stairs. . Fleetingly, she remembered her brother calling her a 'wuss' and her chin rose defiantly. She was not a wuss and, even if she was, nothing was going to stop her from going down those steps. "Watch out rats, spiders, slithery things, evil entities or anything else that wants a piece of this girl. Meg Ravynne is on her way!" she whispered as loudly as she dared, then began the descent into her own special brand of hell.

  ***

  Grey was restless. S
omething was teasing his awareness...stirring him up...making him anxious and he didn’t know what it was. He took another turn around the battlements bathed in moonlight and looked down again upon the scene below. A boat was anchored close to shore and small boats were being ferried back and forth into the cove. The manor was ablaze with lights even long after it was usually dark in sleep. A blinking light shone from the ruined church tower. It looked like a signal of some kind, but for whom or for what purpose he couldn’t begin to know.

  The scenario below had become almost routine, since he had arrived...the one who called himself Seth Marley...though the time differed. A cargo was dropped off, containing? He wasn’t sure, but it was rumored through the others who remained in the manor long after their deaths, that women were involved in some illicit trade. He was truly evil, this man, and there was something else....something important that he should know but didn’t. But as evil as he was, the dark haired one who looked like Meaghan was worse. She was both evil and mad...and dangerous! More than one lad lay in the churchyard below after she was done with him. Not that his own hands were free of blood...nor Meaghan’s. But that was in the past...at least for him.

  The sea wind stirred the kilt that hung from his narrow hips and brushed his muscled thighs. The night was growing cold, but he could not feel the chill. There was little that he could feel any more. Not hunger...not thirst...not even lust, though he had never thought to see that day, and then she came. He brushed back a strand of black hair the wind had teased over his forehead and let his thoughts turn to Meg.

  She was beautiful without knowing it. Curvy and warm with curls the color of honey that a man could twine around his heart. Her eyes were clear and guileless...honest and kind. She would not hurt a living thing. But there, he sighed, was the rub. He was not a living thing. He was a ghost? A 'betwixt and between' thing forced to wander these parapets alone for all eternity. His bitter laugh was answered by a raucous cry as a pair of dark wings circled overhead. With a rush, the huge raven descended and took the perch Grey offered on his forearm. “I still have you, my friend,” he said, stroking along his sleek back Nevermore’s eyes locked with his and he uttered an almost human sound that mingled with Grey’s sigh.