Interloper at Glencoe

by Julianne Lee

  Eventually her attention went to the locked door. The latch was strange. Round. She turned the handle as Nick had, and heard a snap inside. But when she pulled, the door wouldn’t come open. There was another handle above the round one, that had moved when he’d locked the door from the outside, so she tried twisting that. It moved easily, and made a clunking sound when she turned it. Now she could pull the door open with the round handle. But, since Nick had told her to keep the door locked, she closed it again and restored the top handle to its original position. She could get outside if she wanted to, but just then she was certain she didn’t want to. Especially she didn’t want anything from out there coming inside.

  She moved away from the door and looked about the room. What struck her the most was its cleanliness. There was no dirt anywhere, not even on the floor. She’d never lived in a house with a floor that was anything but earth covered in dried straw and bracken, but here her toes dug into a thick fabric like a shorn fleece that covered the entire floor right up to the walls. It was a pale green, and the walls clean and white. The roof was white, and bumpy, flat—no rafters, no roof tree—and it rested directly on top of the walls without a gap of any kind. There was no byre, not that she could see or smell, but she could tell the building in which she was situated was much larger than these chambers that belonged to Nick. Outside the window other people came and went, going about their business without even glancing at her inside this room.

  She sat on a deeply cushioned bench near the window, and it was softer than anything she’d ever felt. Even softer than the bed in the other room. Her behind sank into it and the back of it caressed her like a lover.

  Like Nick. She closed her eyes and thought of him, wishing he were still near.

  It was unutterably comfortable here. Nestled in the cushions, she sifted through the strange, new smells of the world in search of a hint of Nick. It was there, in the cushions. A faint trace of him that touched her consciousness like a tendril, insinuating and occupying. Images of him filled her thoughts, and she drifted with them. His strength, the warmth of his body, the light in his eyes. Gradually she calmed, and gathered herself to take a look around.

  She rose from the cushions and wandered to some shelves where stood some framed miniature paintings. On close examination, she was amazed at the quality of the artwork. So lifelike, and so detailed! And nary a brush stroke that she could see. She picked up one of the frames, a picture of an elderly man and woman. The painting looked as if she could reach into it and feel the soft skin of each subject, as if there were real people trapped under the glass.

  Suddenly she set the frame back on the shelf, for it occurred to her it might be so. Perhaps a faerie spell had captured these poor people inside these frames. Unsettled, she backed away from the shelves. Too much was strange. Too much was like stories she’d heard of the sidhe.

  Another set of shelves held some plants, in beautiful porcelain pots, and a large, black box. The front of the box was glass, but the window had been blackened to prevent anyone seeing inside. More black boxes of different sizes were stacked below it, covered with markings and raised round bits. She left them alone, remembering Nick’s request she not touch anything. They didn’t look terribly interesting in any case. She couldn’t even see where any of them might open.

  Inside the cabinet were stacks of flat, square boxes. Without the slightest idea of what they might be, she also let those alone. Perhaps Nick would explain when he returned.

  Feeling somewhat more adventurous now, she went into the water room for a closer look at its wondrous bowls and such. Everything here was so hard, clean and cold! She pushed the handle that made the water in the commode rush like a stream, and when she pushed it again she realized it needed time before it would work again. She lifted the lid at the back and saw the reservoir filling from a tube. When she pushed the handle, a big plug at the bottom lifted, and now she could see how the water flowed into the bowl below. But then her next question was what made the water stay in the bowl and leave only when the new water came in. Och. It was too confusing, but at least the water wasn’t appearing from nowhere via magic. Tech-something-something, Nick had said. No magic.

  The handles over the basin and waterfall tub worked like a keg tap and when she let them run the water turned warm like before. Hot water, ready at the turn of a handle: luxury beyond belief. Never mind all the glass and steel about the place. Hot water so handy would cut the time waiting for it to boil over the fire by ever so much!

  The bottles on the window sill over the tub caught her attention, and she took each of them down to investigate. Each top twisted like the one at breakfast with the juice, but the contents of these smelled very strange. One was flowery, but in a way that was too strong and disagreeable. It had been less overpowering earlier when Nick had used it to clean their hair. Another smelled a bit like food, though she couldn’t tell what sort. Remembering Nick’s warning about not eating things that smelled like food, she refrained from tasting it.

  Nick’s comb lay aside the sunken basin, and she picked it up to take the snarls out of her drying hair. It was a long, tedious process, for Nick had left the hair quite messy when he’d washed it, and so she let down the lid of the commode and sat. Gradually the tangles came loose, and her hair lay in damp strings over her shoulders and down her back. Now it would dry nicely and not look so slatternly.

  There was a cloth wadded up next to the basin, that smelled like mildew. That smell she recognized, and she took it down to rinse it out in the deliciously hot water from the tap. Then she hung it on a metal railing set into the wall. Just outside the door, inside a closet near the bedroom, she found a stack of clean, folded cloths, and she selected one to place it next to the basin where the other had been.

  The next room to explore was the bedroom, and it held little she didn’t recognize, beyond another of those boxes with a black glass face. The bed was far softer than the mattresses filled with straw she’d always known, and the linens were fresh and new. And astonishing in their color. Nick’s bedsheets were dark red, and over them lay a quilt of luxurious thickness that was a burnt brown color. Even the pillows had covers the same color as the sheets. A low, little table stood beside the bed, on which were a lamp and a small book. A chest with drawers in it stood across the room, and atop it was a small black box with numbers on the front.

  While she was looking, one of the numbers on the front of the black box magically changed. A chill skittered through her spine and she had to look away lest the thing do anything else strange. There were a number of jumbled items on the chest, that made no sense to her. Small metal bits, some tiny chains, a couple of small bottles with those twisting tops like the juice jug, a skull cap with a long brim only on one side, and a paper box containing some of that soft paper folks here used for cleaning their behinds. She knelt to look under the bed for a chamber pot, and found none. So, for what did he keep the paper in here? She shook from her head the images her imagination provided, and continued her examination of the chambers.

  The last remaining room was a surprise. In it stood two tall cases of shelves, both filled to overflowing with books. She’d never in her life seen so many; the only book her father owned was a bible, and that went unread for the most part. Father and Dùghall weren’t much for it, and she’d not been taught at all. Now she pulled out one of Nick’s books to find it was entirely of paper, but the lettering on the front was gold leaf. Gold! Her jaw dropped in astonishment, and she hurried to put the book back on its shelf. Surely Nick would be upset if he learned she was disturbing such a valuable collection.

  On a desk near the window was yet another of those black-faced boxes, though this one was pale brown and only the glass front was black. A chair on wheels stood by the desk, and she rolled it back and forth across the fleecy floor. There was a worn spot in it where Nick had rolled the chair many times before. Then she returned to the sitting room, at a loss for what to do with herself.

  The day was pr
ogressing, as she could see by the change in the light through the windows. It had dimmed in the bedroom but was brighter now in the sitting room, for the sun had moved to that side of the building. Through the huge window there she could now see the water in the bright blue pond glistening with gentle ripples that seemed to come from nowhere. There was nobody out there now. Nothing moved in the stone courtyard, not even the leaves on the many green, broad-leafed bushes growing about it. The sunshine was almost unbearably bright, reflecting from the white stone, and the light on the water danced in her vision like sunset on Loch Linnhe. She blinked and squinted, entranced.

  Soon she decided she was hungry again, but wasn’t sure what Nick wanted her to eat. There was food in that cold box, she was sure, so she went to see what might be found.

  There was a great deal of food in that box. Some of it she could recognize, but most of it she didn’t. There were still plenty of juice and eggs. She found some vegetables: carrots, cabbage, and some green bits that looked like flowers. And onions. Those she knew well, and wondered why such a man as Nick would need to eat onions. Even her father, who was not a rich man, only ate onions in the darkest of times. She bypassed the vegetables, and found a very odd-looking package, with something like a skin, but she could see through it. Inside was meat that had been sliced miraculously thin. She poked at the outer skin, then pulled at it, and one side of it broke open. She pulled out some of the slices, smelled of them, and realized they were ham.

  Good. She liked ham. She ate some of the cold slices, then put the package back where she’d found it. Further investigation revealed a glass jar with one of those twisting tops on it, and inside were pickled cucumbers. She ate two of them with pleasure. Another one of those nearly invisible skins held a small cheese, and she ate that entirely. Full now, she licked her fingers and closed the door of the cold box.

  Her fingers were sticky and smelling strongly of vinegar and cheese now. She glanced out the window at the pond. Did she dare open the door to go out and wash?

  Then she remembered she didn’t need to go outside for that. The water room was for cleaning. So she went there, ran the water in the basin until it was warm, and scrubbed her face with her hands. There was soap on a dish next to the basin, and it lathered so high, and felt so slippery on her skin, she stayed and played with it a little before rinsing. A cloth for drying hung on the wall railing, so she used that. So handy. So... clean. Nothing smelled bad here. Not as it should in any case, and the only odor she recognized in these chambers was the mildew on the small cloth.

  Also the scent of Nick on the cushioned bench. With nothing better to do, she went there to sit and laid her head on the pillow at the end. Images of Nick filled her mind, and the comfort of the cushions seeped into her body. It was warm here. So comfortable. Held softly by the deep cushions, her troubled mind eased by the scent of Nick, she drifted to sleep.

  Chapter 10

  A rattling awoke her, and she opened her eyes on darkness. For one terrifying moment she thought she was in her father’s house and the rattle was of a sword in a scabbard, but then she remembered the day and Nick, and knew she was far away from anywhere familiar. She sat up on the cushioned bench, and rubbed her eyes.

  There was more rattling, and the squeak of the door opening. Nick’s voice came in the darkness, “Why is it so dark in here? Beth? How come you didn’t turn on... oh. Right.” The door squeaked closed, and suddenly there was light.

  Beth jumped, and squinted against the brightness. She shaded her eyes and struggled awake. “Have I slept through the night?” She stared at the light, which came from an object near the door she’d though was a vase. A roundish blue-and-green one, with a linen cover over it. Now she could see it was like a large oil lamp or lantern, but it produced a light brighter than any flame she’d ever seen. And no flickering. Nick went to another such lamp, reached into it, and with a click there was even more light. The room became bright as day. She looked at the large window, and saw only blackness that reflected the extreme light of the room. Nick went to the window and pulled a cord so the curtains moved across by themselves.

  “No, silly. It’s only seven o’clock. The sun just went down, like, a second ago. Are you all right?”

  “I slept. I didn’t know what to do with myself, and this bench is so comfortable. I expect I fell asleep.”

  “Well, come with me. We’ll score some fast food and then do some shopping. You need clothes.” He pulled at the brightly colored cloth about his neck to slip its knot, began to unbutton his sark, and went into the bedroom.

  “Score?”

  “Obtain. We’ll hit a Mickey D’s for hamburgers, then we’ll pick up some essentials for you.”

  “Hangaburrs?” She waited for a reply, but heard only sounds of dressing in the next room. She repeated a little louder, “Hangaburrs?”

  “It’s a sort of sandwich. You get them in a fast food restaurant.” Nick returned from the bedroom wearing a black sark that revealed his arms like the white one he’d given her that morning, a pair of trews a lighter blue than the one he’d worn earlier and tighter at his thighs, and heavy brogues of pristine white decorated with laces and tiny white bows. The soles were so thick, they might have been boots. His stockings were worn underneath the trews rather than over, and she thought it strange for Nick to not want to show off the shape of his legs as he did his arms and behind. Not that she didn’t like the tightness of these trews, particularly the way they crumpled at the front with the shape of him, and clung to his hips. It was difficult not to stare. He held out his hand to her.

  She still didn’t understand where he was taking her. “Restaurant?”

  “It’s a place where you go and sit down, and they bring you food. Well, in this case you buy the food at a counter and then sit. You’ll see. It’s meat; you’ll probably even like it. Well, sort of meat.” She took his hand and went with him out the door. He turned to lock the door behind him. His insistence on locking the door made her nervous. What was he locking out? Or in? Were the people around here so careless as to let someone steal from their neighbor?

  He guided her past the pond, which now glowed with an unearthly blue light of its own. Did Nick even know he lived in a faerie land? Surely he must; he’d seen how she lived, and had to understand this world was unnatural.

  The chambers all around where other people lived were lit up like Nick’s, and she could see shadows moving behind other curtains. Many windows. Many, many shadows. All so close together, living literally on top of each other; the sight was boggling.

  Then they came to what seemed somewhat like a stable, but all made of stone and there were no animals. Instead there were two long rows of carriages. At least, they appeared to be something like carriages, and that was the only thing she could think of they might resemble. They had wheels of sorts, and windows. Some were shiny and some were not, and they were all manner of colors. So many colors the row looked like a rainbow that ran the entire length of the building. It was quite beautiful.

  “Here.” Nick stopped at one, and pulled his keys from his pocket again. Another lock. Locks everywhere, it seemed. The keys made a merry jingling as he opened the door of a small, red carriage and gestured her inside. There was a chair, cushioned like all the other seats she’d seen here. The lack of wood for furniture in Nick’s world was evident, but Beth didn’t miss it, and wondered why anyone would. She slipped inside and settled into the comfortable seat.

  “Watch your hand,” Nick said, and she laid her hands in her lap. Then he closed the door with a soft thump and went around to the other side of the carriage, unlocked the door, and got in. Then the key went into yet another lock, under a wheel in front of him. “Seat belt.” He turned to her and gestured behind her. “That strap back there. Pull it around you.” She obeyed, and he took the strap, fiddled with a metal bit on it, and slipped it into something at her left side so that it clicked, and the strap crossed her lap and her chest.

  She poked at the metal b
it, and realized it was a buckle. Seat belt. Of course it was buckled. “Why does the seat need a belt?”

  “You need it, for safety.” He turned toward her and rested an arm atop the wheel. “I’ve got to warn you now; we’re going to go pretty fast in this thing. Faster than you’ve ever gone in your life.”

  She looked at him, and found the prospect both fascinating and frightening. “How fast?”

  He thought for a moment. “Do you know how far a mile is?”

  “I’m told the length of the entire glen, from Loch Leven to Etive Mór, is nigh onto thirty or forty miles. A two-day walk for a healthy man.”

  “Well, we’re about to go fast enough to cover that distance in about an hour. If the car were to stop suddenly without us being strapped in, we’d smack right up against the dashboard and probably die.”

  A cold sweat broke out, and Beth suddenly wanted out of the carriage. “I dinnae wish to die.” She turned to the door, but couldn’t find the latch.

  “It’s okay, Beth.” Nick reached for her hand, and held it. The strength of him calmed her some, and she was able to stop trying to scramble away. She turned to listen, breathing hard. “It’s okay. I do this all the time. Every single day I get in this car and go to work in it. I’ve never needed the seat belt, but I wear it just in case.” He leaned forward to look her in the eye. “And listen to me, Beth.” She looked at him, and he continued, “I would never, ever put your life in danger. If I weren’t certain this was safe, I wouldn’t let you come near this car. Do you understand me?”