Gallowglass

by Jennifer Allis Provost

  But how long was this fairy tale really going to last?

  We found a restaurant with outdoor seating, thankfully with a few tables set in the dwindling sun. After the server had taken our orders, I found myself staring at the store fronts that lined the road. Robert seemed content to leave me to my thoughts, but the notions swirling through my head wanted out. And out they were getting.

  “Have you learned anything more?” I asked. “About the crystals?”

  “Aye, that I have.” Robert withdrew a carefully folded sheet of paper from the inner pocket of his coat, and spread it on the table between us. “This column represents those with especially protective qualities,” he indicated the column on the far left, “this next, has ones for summoning the Good People, and this last column attracts luck.”

  “Luck?”

  “I feel we could be needin’ a wee bit o’ luck,” he quipped. I nodded, studying the list.

  “What we need are stones that we can get quickly,” I mumbled. “I have the amethyst brooch you gave me, that might cover us for the protection aspect, but—”

  Robert laid his hand over mine. “Quickly? Do ye ken somethin’ I do not?”

  I sighed, and sat back in my chair. “Robert, I don’t live in Scotland. I live in America, which is…well, it’s nowhere near here.”

  He nodded. “I am aware of this.”

  The server appeared with our wine, and our soup; I’d gone with potato leek, Robert with Scotch broth. He let me eat a spoonful of my soup before he continued.

  “You were saying,” he prompted.

  I set down my spoon, and looked him in the eye. “My research grant ends soon. I can’t stay in Scotland after it’s over.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Cannot, or will not?”

  “Can’t,” I repeated. “The grant is what’s funding the cottage, paying for our food, the rental car.” The first rental, at any rate. “I’m still a student. I’m not rich like Chris. I don’t have the money to stay here after it runs out.”

  “When will that happen?”

  “A few weeks,” I replied. “By the end of September, I’ll be out of money.”

  Robert’s brow furrowed. “I gave ye the sgian dubh and brooch,” he said. “Each is worth a goodly sum.”

  “I know, and I appreciate both of them. But I have no idea of how to turn those items into money.”

  “Ye just take them to a banker and request their worth in coin.”

  I held up my hand. “It’s not like that any longer. If you try to sell something like that, and you don’t have the correct documentation proving ownership, you could go to jail.”

  Robert nodded, slowly. “I would no wish for ye to be imprisoned.”

  “Neither would I.” I resumed eating, mostly since soup tasted much better hot than cold. Also, if I was eating I didn’t have to talk. The moment I swallowed the last bite of soup Robert’s questions started up again.

  “Why did ye just inform me of all o’ that?” Robert asked.

  I shrugged. “I just thought you should know.”

  “That’s no’ the whole of it, love,” he pressed.

  “I…I just need to know where we stand.” Robert looked confused, so I elaborated, “I mean, I only have a few weeks left here, and I might not ever be able to come back.”

  “And ye are concerned as to what will happen to me.” Robert reached across the table and grasped my hands. “Worry not o’er me, lass. I can take care o’ meself quite well.”

  Hot blood spilled up my neck, and my voice shook when I spoke. “There’s not just you to think about. There’s an us, you know.”

  Robert blinked. “Us?”

  That blank look in his eyes pushed me right over the edge. “You go around, touching me whenever you feel like it, kissing my hand, grabbing my butt, making me feel all these things for you and all you can say is that when my grant dries up you’ll take care of yourself,” I said in a rush. “What about me?”

  Robert’s eyes widened. “Hear me, Karina love. I thought ye were but humoring an old man, I did no’ suspect—”

  The server—who had either the best or worst sense of timing in the world, depending on how you looked at it—arrived with our meals, thus saving Robert from what would have surely been a heart wrenching explanation. Heart wrenching for me, at least. Once the server departed Robert reclaimed my hand.

  “Love,” he began.

  “Please.” I withdrew my hand and grabbed my fork. “Not now.”

  “Karina, please,” he said.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laid all that on you. But I really would like to just enjoy my dinner, if that’s okay with you.” I didn’t add that we had a very small number of shared meals left.

  Robert scowled, but he didn’t argue. “As ye like, love.”

  We began our meal in silence. I’d ordered lobster, since I’d probably never get fresher seafood than here in this fishing village, while Robert had decided upon capon stuffed with cranberries and nuts. After my temper had cooled off, I said that the capon looked a diminutive Thanksgiving turkey.

  “Thanks giving?” he repeated. “Is that a breed o’ fowl?”

  “It’s a holiday in America,” I explained. “You celebrate it by eating a ton of food, and everyone goes around the table and says what they’re thankful for.”

  “It sounds verra nice.”

  “It is.”

  After a moment, he asked, “Well then, what are ye thankful for?”

  “My brother, my education,” I said. “And my dinner, of course.” I glanced up. “What are you thankful for?”

  “Many things; good food to eat, good air to breathe, me faith,” Robert replied. “Mostly, though, I am thankful for ye, Karina me love.”

  “I’m sure someone would have sprung you from the tree eventually,” I said as I struggled with a lobster claw.

  Robert laughed and held out his hand. “Give it here, lass.”

  I handed over the claw, and watched as Robert cracked the shell, then as he grabbed my fork and picked out the meat. “Strange creatures, lobsters are,” he murmured. “’Tis so difficult to get at the meat, one wonders if they ken how tasty they are.”

  I giggled. “So the tough shell is the lobster’s last stand?”

  “Perhaps.” Robert dipped a forkful of meat in butter and held it out to me. “Or perhaps a tough shell merely masks a tender, sweet heart.”

  I smirked and took my fork; being that I was still mad at him there was no way I was letting him feed me. “Funny.”

  “Lobsters are many things, but funny is no’ one of them.” Robert laid his hand on my wrist. “And, love, I am no’ just thankful for ye from freeing me from the tree.”

  I stared at him, the lump of lobster meat like concrete in my throat. “Oh.”

  Robert smiled and turned his attention to his own plate, and didn’t bring up the taboo topic of us again. At least, not while we were eating.

  The food didn’t last long with our appetites. Once the plates had been cleared, and we had finished our after dinner coffees, Robert cajoled me into walking around the village with him. The sun had almost completely set during our meal, and we strolled up and down the dark streets until we found ourselves once again past the sea wall, staring out over the dark, swirling water. I imagined that the thoughts crashing about my head were similar to the waves; endlessly cycling back and forth, but never making any headway.

  “Karina,” he began. Robert took my hand, and immediately forgot what he’d been about to say. “You’re positively frigid, love!”

  “I am not frigid,” I snapped, realizing a moment later that he meant cold, temperature-wise. “Well, maybe I’m a little chilly.”

  He chuckled softly. “What else could I be meanin’?”

  “Oh, hush.”

  Robert moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “Better?”

  I turned sideways, and rested my cheek against his chest. Robert widened his stance, and tucked my head
underneath his chin. “Better.” We remained that way for a time, silently sharing our warmth as if I hadn’t bitten his head off a scant hour ago. “I don’t think you’re old.”

  He snorted. “I am a verra, verra old man.”

  I shrugged, as much as one could shrug while wrapped in a gallowglass’s arms. “I’m a geologist. I deal with things that are millions or even billions of years old. You’ve got nothing on that.”

  “I suppose not.” He pressed his face against my hair, and murmured, “About these things I make ye feel.”

  I so did not want to have that conversation. Lucky for me, a distraction had arrived just in the nick of time. “Look, it’s one of the baby seals from before.” I wiggled out of Robert’s arms, and crouched before the barking pup. “I think he recognizes me.”

  “Karina,” Robert warned, but I ignored him.

  “Here, boy,” I coaxed, reaching toward him. The little guy barked, and started flopping his way toward me. Just as I was about to ask Robert if he could run to the store and grab a can of tuna for my new friend, the pup roared.

  Roared.

  “Wha—” I fell backward, scrabbling away from the pup. Robert grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet, his other hand brandishing his claymore.

  “’Tis one o’ the fuath,” he yelled as he thrust his sword into the not-seal’s neck. More abominations erupted from the sea; some were finned humanoid creatures, almost like the Creature from the Black Lagoon, some resembled mammals, some snakes. I. Hate. Snakes. All of them were terrifying, and all of them were striding and slithering toward us. Robert and I broke into a run as the skies opened above us.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Karina

  We ran from the fuath as they dragged themselves from the sea and fell from the clouds, my stupid high heeled boots first getting lodged in the wet sand, then skidding across the slick cobble stones. I couldn’t see anything except Robert’s back as he ran in front of me, and all I could hear was the rain hitting the road mingled with the otherworldly shrieks from the fuath that chased us. Every bone-chilling sound called up images of their crazed red eyes; long, needlelike teeth; their filthy claws; what they would do to me with those teeth and claws. I pushed myself to run faster.

  My heel caught in a joint between the cobbles and I went down hard. Robert crouched beside me and yelled something, but his words were lost in the downpour. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders, hauled me upright and flung me against a hard wall. The impact made me see stars.

  Once my senses dribbled back to me, the first thing I realized was that I wasn’t being rained upon. The second thing was the massive pain blooming at the base of my skull, probably from hitting my head. I groaned as I rubbed the sore spot, then Robert clamped his hand over my mouth.

  I tugged his hand away, and whispered, “My head. I think I hit it.”

  Brows furrowed, Robert threaded his fingers through my hair, and gently explored the back of my head. While he did that, I peeked over his shoulder at our surroundings. We were standing underneath an archway that I assumed was the support for a bridge, or maybe the terminus of an alleyway; the stone wall behind me was what I’d hit my head against. Robert had wedged us into the far corner, beyond the pool of dim light that filtered in. I shivered in the cold, musty air; if the fuath figured out this little ruse and found us, we would be trapped.

  I gasped, wincing, when Robert found the lump on the base of my skull, but otherwise remained silent. He massaged my head for a moment, then he pressed his lips against my ear.

  “Och, love,” he breathed, “Forgive me. I did no’ mean to hurt ye.”

  I pulled back, about to tell him that I understood that he hadn’t done it on purpose. It wasn’t like he’d had a lot of options, what with the monsters chasing us. Before I could say as much I heard hoof beats rattling across the rooftops, followed by an all too close howl. To my horror, the howl was answered from somewhere on ground level, followed by scratching near the arch’s opening. I bit the inside of my mouth, the pain doing little to center me.

  As the scratching moved closer I started shaking, and I pressed my hands to my mouth to keep my teeth from chattering. Could the fuath hear teeth chattering? Then a chorus of those bone chilling howls sounded from directly above us. I squeezed my eyes shut, and moved my hands from my mouth to my ears.

  “They’re going to find us,” I whimpered, remembering too late that we were supposed to remain silent. Robert’s fingers slid from my hair to my jaw, and he titled my face up. I wouldn’t open my eyes, so he was forced to whisper.

  “Be still,” he murmured, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. “I will protect ye.”

  My lips parted, which was a bad idea since the creatures howled again. Since my hands were covering my ears I couldn’t stifle this latest round of sobs. Robert pressed his mouth to mine, swallowing my cries. Figuring we were going to die anyway, I fisted my hand in Robert’s shirt and kissed him.

  Robert drew back and we looked at each other for long moments. Even in the dim light I could see his blue eyes, the emotions skating across his face: wariness, determination, hope. I liked hope the best.

  I slid my arms around Robert’s neck and kissed him again, softly at first, but he wasn’t in the mood for a quick peck. He kissed me hard, his hands gliding down my sides to encircle my waist, then his hands were under my thighs as he lifted me against the wall. I locked my ankles behind his waist, opened my mouth beneath his, and let him devour me.

  This wasn’t how mermaids kissed. This was how two people who had no idea if they would survive the night kissed.

  I don’t know how long we stayed that way, wrapped in each another’s arms beneath that bridge. It could have been a year, an hour, perhaps even the barest second. I forgot about the creatures pursuing us, the pouring rain, Nicnevin’s curse; I forgot everything but Robert. He, however, managed to keep his wits about him.

  “Lass,” he murmured. “I believe they ha’ moved on.”

  I blinked, unsure what ‘they’ he was referring to, when I remembered the fuath. I unwound my limbs from Robert’s body, listening for their howls and scratching, thankfully hearing neither. Robert held me against him as I slid down the wall, his hands lingering on my waist as I steadied myself. His release was sudden, my body cold where he’d held me. He went to the mouth of the arch and peered down the alley. “The rain continues,” he said. “Like as no’, they have lost our scent. We’d best return to the cottage before they retrace their steps, to keep them unaware of where we lay our heads. We have a promise to keep to the wights.”

  I was trembling again, but not because of the fuath. As Robert assessed our situation with military precision, far more concerned with a herd of tiny fairies than me, I realized that our kisses had meant nothing to him. He had just wanted me to shut up, and distract me from imminent death.

  I just threw myself at a preacher. I am such an idiot. A hot tear slid down my cheek; I dashed it away and rubbed my nose. Robert picked that moment to turn around; based on his expression, he saw a sniveling girl who had gotten the wrong idea. Or he thinks I’m a whore, I thought, remembering how I’d wrapped my legs around his waist.

  If he thought that, he didn’t say as much. “Karina,” he murmured, “take my hand.” I did, mostly because I didn’t have a lot of options either, and followed him out into the night.

  The rain had lightened from a downpour to a light drizzle, not that it mattered since I was already soaked to the bone. We walked in blissfully uneventful silence for a while before we reached the part of the village with street lamps. I turned my face toward the light, and wondered if I could avoid darkness for the rest of my life. The dark was where you found things like evil fairies and seal pups that wanted to eat you, not in the bright light of day. Well, except for that fuath that had taken over the old lady at Inchmahome, and the White Lady at Tantallon… Still, the light was safer. It had to be. While I contemplated how many lamps it would take to keep the cottage blazing like t
he sun twenty four hours a day, Robert grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him, kissing me hard.

  At first I was startled, then I was mad. What, did he think he could just maul me whenever he wanted? I opened my mouth to yell at him but he slid his tongue against mine, silencing me and defusing my anger in one fell swoop.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked when we parted.

  “Because,” he replied, his hand cupping the nape of my neck, “I do no’ want ye to think I only wish to kiss ye when we’re being chased by foul beasts.”

  “Oh,” I mumbled. “I thought—”

  “’Tis plain what ye thought, love,” Robert said, brushing his lips across my knuckles. “I did no’ mean to upset ye. Forgive me if I have.”

  I nodded, having lost the ability to speak. Robert smiled, and we resumed walking.

  Once we were inside the cottage, and had locked all the doors and windows, I retreated to the bathroom. I contemplated a hot shower, then decided that I’d been wet enough that day. I towel dried my hair as best I could, the rain having darkened the brown strands to nearly black, and after dragging a brush through it I returned to the common room.

  Robert had stripped out of his wet clothes, and was wearing black sweats and that old Iron Maiden shirt that had become his favorite. After he shut the bathroom door I entered my bedroom and got out of my second set of waterlogged clothes in as many days, then I pulled on a long-sleeved charcoal gray sweater and black yoga pants. The sweater was tissue paper-thin, but it was soft. After the day I’d had, soft was winning.

  I was sitting on the edge of my bed, trying to decide if I wanted to wear socks, when Robert returned to the common room. A few cushions hit the floor and bounced into view through my bedroom doorway, which meant that he was getting ready to pull out the couch.

  “Robert.”

  “What is it, Karina love?” His large frame filled the doorway, all but blocking out the light from the kitchen. “Do ye be needin’ anythin’?”

  I swallowed. “Stay with me tonight.” His eyes widened, and for a terrible, heart-stopping moment, I thought he would say no. “Please.”