by Unknown
“Keep your eyes open,” she said in a conspiratorial way. “These boys are always on the lookout for fresh meat A pretty thing like you is going to attract wee dicked beasties like Angus and Derek.”
“You just want him for yourself,” said Angus.
“Oh, please,” she laughed. “Even McKay’s not lovely enough to convert me to sausage. I will always be loyal to my ladies.”
She drew a pint each for the two older men and then made a hand gesture of dismissal towards them. “What a wonderful romantic thing to do,” she began, ignoring the men who sullenly withdrew with their ale. “Do you know where your granddad is from? ‘Tis a large country.” She leaned on the bar counter and looked at him directly. Her eyes were a light gray. Up close she really was beautiful and looked like she could also show up for a photo shoot. He could sense she had the sort of energy a camera would love.
“I have his journal with me. There are parts that sound as strange as what Angus and Derek were speaking. I just can’t make heads or tails of it. I do know he’s from the Highlands. I can’t figure out the name of his village but I think it’s in the Cairngorms.”
Gillian gently corrected his pronunciation. “A bonnie area. My family is from around there.” She frowned for a moment in concentration. “How flexible are you?”
McKay looked up from the whisky and said, “I think you’re really beautiful but I’m not quite that flexible.” He looked embarrassed.
“What a blusher you are! And by flexible I meant about your schedule, not your sleeping arrangements. I’m not Jordy and I’m also not a fan of a one night stand. Do you have everything in a tight schedule the way a lot of Americans do, or might you embrace your Celtic roots and be ready to go wherever your heart moves you?”
“In answer to your actual question—I’m open to pretty much anything. I left my ticket with an open return so I’m under no pressure to get back to the States on a particular day. I figured I’d need some time to ask for help in finding where my Granddad Logan might be from.”
“Brilliant,” she smiled. “Perhaps this was meant to be for I’ll be leaving on my way back home to take part in our annual Fest. It’s been going on for a couple of hundred years. It would be a real and direct introduction to what it means to be Scottish and from the Highlands.” She laughed again. “Although be prepared to keep a Scottish dictionary close by if you find the patrons in here hard to follow. Each region has its own way with words.”
She left to pull another glass of ale and presented it to one of the women who had come forward. “Here yah go, my dove.” Then she returned to McKay. “So if you’re not a serial killer and you want to take a big sip from the teat of life, why not come with me? It’s less than three hours in my wee Ford Fiesta. After that you can continue on your journey of discovery, or return with me to Edinburgh to begin your search here, but it makes more sense to me for you to go straight to the Highlands to pick up your McKay threads and weave yourself in. Bring your Grandda’s journal and I’ll see if I can tease something from it.”
“How can I refuse such an offer,” he said. He took another sip of the strong liquor. “And I can’t think of a better guide to take me on my way.”
“Well, you’ve already met Jordy so you might as well get to know the rest of my crazy family.” She left again to wait on another customer. The place was starting to get busy and between the jet lag and the whisky he was winding down. He flagged Gillian to let her know where to pick him up tomorrow morning and hit the road.
By the time he had made it back to his hotel he was already starting to yawn. He got a bite to eat and double checked his alarm to make certain he’d be ready when Gillian arrived. Satisfied, he was asleep before he could remember to switch off the light.
Chapter Four
“Charming,” Rory said, looking at the castle. He was actually thinking, “And probably stuffed to the bursting with all the petty intrigues inherent in courts.” It was said there were solitary Sidhe and trooping ones. A Pooka was definitely not a trooper. He was already apprehensive about being around Niall’s people. He felt more comfortable surrounded by humans with their lack of complications and fat bank accounts.
“Oh, you should have seen it in its glory,” sighed Niall. “It’s a shadow of its former self. It’s been declining over the years and nothing we’ve been able to find has been able to make much of a difference or turn the tide. Some think it’s a type of curse, but even after paying good money to those specializing in breaking curses, it still hasn’t helped.”
“Fine enough for me as long as you’re beside me,” Rory smiled. Niall led the way through the wide outside doors. To the Pooka it looked the same as any castle. Bric-a-brac, gewgaws, gimcracks, knickknacks and bibelots were crowded about in every direction. As usual, he glanced around for anything valuable he might consider stealing. Rory’s tastes focused on modern lines and designs, not stuffy traditionalism. Disappointed he found nothing he wanted, the Pooka turned his attention back to his host.
“Well, ‘tis home,” the Sith muttered. As they walked through the hallway a few humans dipped their heads in Niall’s direction and looked with open curiosity at the Pooka as they hurried off to do whatever they were doing. Rory dismissed them as the culchies and oafs that never found themselves more than an hour from where they were born. Everywhere he looked on the walls were portraits of the Daoine Sith.
“Ah, Carmichael,” Niall said as they encountered yet another human, “I’m looking for my mother. Have you seen her lately?”
“The last time I saw her she was in the kitchen supervising everything.” Carmichael nodded his head in acknowledgement of Rory.
“I’ve also just arrived with a load you’ll find in the car.” He walked on with Rory following. The kitchen was a busy place with both humans and Sith at their tasks.
“Mac,” a beautiful woman greeted him. “And who is this fine chiel you’ve come with?”
“Sweet Mathair,” he said, “his name is Rory, and trust me, he’s older than he looks. And this, is my mother, Kenna.”
“An honor,” Rory smiled. He took her hand and as she looked at him directly he slowly shifted his eye color to match her green ones.
“And talented as well,” she whispered. In a louder voice she announced she was taking a break. She inclined her head for the two to accompany her and they ended up in a drawing room where she shut the doors. “Now,” Kenna said, “we can be free and open. What might yah be?”
“Anything you want,” Rory grinned. He was suddenly a large black wolf again. She stepped back with her eyes wide and he shifted into a peacock with oddly dark feathers. Then he was a sleek black horse with frightening red eyes. Then he was simply Rory as if nothing had happened.
“I’d recognize a Pooka anywhere,” she said. “I’ve not seen your kind in more years than I can name. My own dear Mathair used to tell me a Pooka is as rare as an honest man.” “She also would say why they were so rare around civilized folk like the Sith,” she thought to herself. Politely she stepped to a small table and poured whisky from a cut crystal bottle and handed the glasses to the other two and then prepared one for herself.
“And where did you meet,” she asked Niall. She held the glass in her small hands and admired it. She had not yet taken a sip.
“At the Rocpol when I was in town for the supplies and to sign some papers.”
“The Rocpol?” she asked, her eyebrows moving slightly upward. “A most expensive place,” she murmured.
“I have expensive and excellent taste,” Rory grinned, touching Niall’s back as a statement of ownership. A Pooka was as territorial as a cat.
“I wish my son did, too,” Kenna thought to herself. She set her untouched glass down and said aloud, “I’m sure it’s been a long journey for your guest. Why not show him to your room and then rejoin me privately so we can touch on some of the last minute details for the Fest.” She kissed her son on the cheek and then bowing slightly to Rory, she headed back to the kit
chen.
“What a mother you have,” Rory said. “I hope she’s comfortable with my being here.”
“Why ever would she not?” Niall said as he kissed him. “Over the many years I’ve brought both male and female lovers. Of course I will say what would truly please her is if I had fathered brats by now.” They finished with their drinks and then Niall led Rory to his chambers. To Rory’s eyes it was comfortable and comfy, but nothing fancy or special. Again—there was nothing he could see that was worth stealing. More than anything he was aware of the fact Kenna’s glass remained full. What true child of the Isles would not share a drink to welcome a newcomer?
After showing him where things were Niall told Rory he’d be back up after dealing with his mother’s concerns. He shut the bedroom door and Rory held still for a moment, listening with more than human skill. He heard the Sith round the corner into the hall. Satisfied he was safely alone, the Pooka began to quickly riffle through the many drawers and the carved boxes that abounded.
He uncovered a ring made of pewter engraved with Celtic designs. “I suppose this would have been worth something—a few hundred years ago.” He let it bounce back to the front of the drawer where he had found it. “Not even magic,” he sighed. In the closet he swiftly fingered and felt the clothes, paying careful attention to the ceremonial wear. Half a dozen sporrans were scattered about and one held a handful of coins older than the E.U. –along with a wadded up handkerchief. He was puzzled at the pinch of rice he found at the bottom of one of the fancier ones.
He traced the scrollwork on a really quality brooch attached to Niall’s fly plaid, that went over one shoulder. It was set with small rubies. Beautiful but something everyone in the area would recognize as belonging to his host. Although he loved the Internet it meant easily identified items like the brooch would be difficult to fence. It helped to put things away for a few decades, but he was getting worried that technology was advancing so quickly, whatever the World Wide Web mutated to in a generation would be able to track what now belonged to him—that might have belonged to someone else. It was why he had turned more often to jewels. They were valuable in the past. They’d be valuable many tomorrows from today. He opened the window and leaned on the sill. “Fie,” he hissed, “a thief should not have to work this hard.” He sighed, “At least the sex is good.”
Niall walked quickly to rejoin his mother in order to satisfy her and then he could go back to Rory. Emerging into the kitchen he saw her at the open door looking out into the gardens. Seeing him she walked outside, expecting him to follow.
“What is it?” he said, closing the door.
“How could you bring a Pooka into our home? Didnee even listen to your granny? She warned you to avoid the thievin’ bastards! They don’t even have glamour. If they have to use Power they’re no better than a village hedge witch!” She spat on the ground and a tiny cloud of black smoke swirled up.
“I remember her having several fingers of the whisky in the drawing room and then her bad mouthing more than Pookas. It’s the twenty-first century—we should be beyond these old petty pokes and jabs. Maybe it’s that kind of attitude that’s been bleeding away our vitality. I’m old enough to remember when our crops and herds were many and strong. And when has a single Sith infant been born? Is not Moira the youngest of us all and she’s past forty years?”
He turned away from her and towards the east wing where Rory and his bedroom were waiting. “I’ve been enjoying his company. I won’t kick him out on his arse because my granny was prejudiced against anyone who wasn’t part of our family.” He turned back and looked at his frowning mother. “And be honest—after enough alcohol she wasn’t that fond of her family.”
“We have our ways and our words for a reason,” she said flatly. “Respect the teachings of your elders. Pookas weren’t meant to be in true society. They’re as welcome as water in a holed ship. One comes by every few generations in the hopes they can steal from the ones who are too young to know better. It’s the nature of a Pooka to be a Pooka. And him like a high king at the Rocpol. I bet he paid the bill not with fairy gold but with swag he’s stolen from someone.”
Niall laughed, “And it was so proper,” he drew out the word, “that in the old days our family paid in the coin of fairy gold that would only be dried leaves when touched by the light of dawn? We are the ones with the high ground?”
“I’ve said what I meant to say,” She had her hand on the doorknob of the kitchen, “You’re a grown man and you should be making your own decision.” She paused and looked at him, “And you should learn from your mistakes, like the one that’s in your bedroom.” He watched the door close and he struggled to control his temper. He felt it was so unfair for her to judge Rory when she had no way of knowing him.
Taking a deep breath he reentered the house and set off for the Pooka. He tried not to rush but the hallway had never felt so long before. He opened his bedroom door and saw Rory curled up on the bed in the shape of a large black dog with blazing eyes. Then Rory was looking at him. “Wolf for the woods, and hound for the house,” he said lightly.
“Let’s scare up some afternoon tea,” Niall said, stretching out his hand to touch Rory’s face. “You may have had a late lunch but my own stomach is reminding me I’m in need of nourishment.” Rory rose gracefully off the bed. As the Sith watched, his mussed hair moved by itself into a knife sharp part. “Not even a want for a mirror?”
“A Pooka is exquisitely aware of his body. I can feel when it’s done up right and proper.” He had put away his clothes into Niall’s closet and slipped his new suitcase under the bed. He dressed and together they stepped into the hallway. Rory looked troubled.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked the Pooka.
“That smell,” Rory said so quietly Niall had to strain to hear him. “I thought we’d be far enough from the Shetlands to be safe from the likes of him.”
They rounded the corner and a dark haired man had stepped out of a guest room. He was tall and lean like Niall but looked older. Thick stubble lined the lower half of his face. His eyes were an olive green. “Niall,” he said, “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.” Then his eyes narrowed as he looked at Rory. His eyes filled with the color of molten gold. His features began to waiver and he seemed to grow taller and wider. His hands were becoming claws and his face lengthened into more of a snout.
“Ah, Mathow,” Niall whispered, “How can you be losing control like you were a wee lad again? Change back before someone sees you.”
“A Wulver has no control,” Rory growled from behind him. “I’d recognize that stink anywhere.” He had become a black wolf again and silently bared his sharp fangs at Mathow. As a horrified Niall watched, Rory took on his human form again. “Half-shifter,” Rory said, his tone icy. “Stuck in between a true wolf and a true man. Aren’t your kind better suited to stay outdoors?”
“Both of you,” Niall said, “I’ve none of this. It’s like the old tales of hospitality being beaten to death in our home. I don’t know why you both react this way but I tell you it stops now.” He looked from Rory to Mathow and then back again. “We’re polite enough to pretend the mortals know not what we are. The last thing we need is for one of you to blatantly show off how non-human we can truly be. It may have been well over a century since an Enforcer came to the Highlands, but I damned well won’t sit by and watch you cry out for one.”
Rory said nothing but stood in front of Niall with crossed arms. With self-righteous scorn he watched Mathow struggle to return to his human form. All Niall could see was the pain the shifting caused his distant cousin. Mathow’s family had always come to the Fest and been welcomed. He could hear the breaking of bones that reformed themselves and was impressed that Mathow was not screaming out in pain. Rory made it seem so effortless.
“Then let’s be on our way to show everyone how civilized and human I can be,” Rory said, leading the way. He could hear Niall trying to comfort the now almost human Matho
w. When Rory turned the corner he looked into the frightened face of a gray-haired human woman. “And what might yeh be looking at, yah gammy tool?” She looked as if she were going to cry and he strode past her. He kept reminding himself the sex with Niall was good. But he was beginning to wonder if it was really that good.
Chapter Five
“I love this bridge,” McKay told Gillian. “Everything is so clean.” He looked at the stonework they were driving over. “It feels as if we’ve wandered into the past. We haven’t seen another car for nearly an hour and everything looks like pictures in a story book. There were times we were passing villages that look as if they were built by Disney and I expected the inhabitants to clock out at 5pm to go home to their condos.”
“Oh, it’s all real enough,” she said. “But for all the years I’ve gone back and forth from home to the Pink Thistle and back again I do feel like I’m crossing into a different world.” She pointed out a deer to him that was bounding away, deeper into the woods. “And not a time there is where I don’t look forward to going home and not a time when I don’t look forward to driving back to Edinburgh. This place starts feeling too small and people start talking about me not marrying a man and popping out babies. It’s why cousin Jordy led the way out.”
“Are people really homophobic?” McKay asked.
“I doubt it’s a word they’ve even heard. It’s more that in communities like mine people become set in their ways.” She slowed down to let McKay take in the grandeur of the mountains that had suddenly come into view. “And those ways don’t include someone like me living with her lady love. What the well-bred do is their prerogative,” she said, a chill creeping into her tone. “They bed whom they like.” She looked over at McKay and smiled.