The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  “We always go to market at this time,” Chef said, “Seeing as you’re both up, you can help.”

  “Happy to help,” Hamish managed. He had to start repaying their hospitality somehow.

  As if sharing an unspoken thought, Cybelle nodded at Chef and took his hand. Then they walked together out the side gate. It gave Hamish an idea. He held his hand out for Ondine. For a moment he wasn’t sure if she got the clue, until she blinked and slipped her hand in his. Warmth surged up his arm and into his heart at the contact. Her soft, small hand in his felt absolutely perfect, as if it belonged there. Then she smiled and he beamed back, his brain momentarily at a loss for something sensible to say.

  So unlike him.

  They walked, hand in hand, a few paces behind Cybelle and Chef, in the dark pre-dawn morning. The streets were quiet, broken only by the sounds of their footsteps.

  Their paces fell into a natural rhythm as they reached the market, and found themselves looking upon a hidden world of traders and businesses that were never seen by everyday people. The kind of people who valued their sleep.

  Lanterns of every shape and colour hung from the rafters to light the way. Even at this early hour, the markets were teeming with people like ants around a banana skin.

  They crossed the street where Belle and Chef had already gone, falling further behind. Ondine leaned closer to Hamish, “Stick close to me, it can get pretty crowded. If you get lost, we’ll meet back at this corner, OK?”

  “Not a problem,” holding her hand just that little bit tighter.

  For someone used to seeing the world from ankle height, the early morning market proved an exciting and daunting place for Hamish. It was something like a mixture between a madhouse and a stockyard. Stalls filled with chickens squashed up beside grocers selling mountains of fresh vegetables and fruit. And the smell! Animals, fresh fruit, bruised fruit, vegetables, flowers and spices all mixed in his nostrils. How nasty would it be to get here any later? The heat of the day would stink the place right up.

  “How much for the box of oranges,” Ondine asked one of the traders.

  “For a beautiful girl, only five schlips,” the grocer said with a beaming smile.

  “Five! Do I look like I’m made of money? I’ll give you three,” Ondine haggled.

  “I have five daughters to marry off, be gentle with me. Four and a half.”

  “They’re all mushed underneath the top layer, I bet. Three and a half, and that’s my final offer.”

  Hamish stood there, trying to keep his jaw from falling as he watched Ondine beat the price down, all the while she kept smiling and being so very nice about sending the grocer broke.

  With pantomime agony, the grocer said, “Take it, please, before I leap into the river.”

  “Done! Hamish, grab that box please,” Ondine handed over the money.

  The grocer cast a look at Hamish, “This man, he is your husband?”

  “Oh no, he’s just here for the muscles.”

  “In that case, Muscles, come back later and meet my daughters, you’ll have to marry one of them as I can no longer afford to feed them.”

  Ondine dismissed his banter. “Follow me Hamish.”

  In another lifetime, Hamish wouldn’t have been seen dead in a market, haggling with people. Shopping just wasn’t his thing. Yet, here, with Ondine as his guide, he found himself happily following her around the stalls, carrying all her goods without complaint.

  Smiling, no less! What was wrong with him?

  He’d never felt this... strange and yet comforting sense of ... domestic life. Perhaps it was the effects of being human again, of experiencing life as it should be. Or maybe the joy came from being around Ondine.

  The next sight made his insides clench tight for all the wrong reasons.

  Ferrets. In cages. Piled five high. It was too much to bear and he shut his eyes. Acid burned his gut. Nasty things moved in his throat so he swallowed hard.

  “Oh dear.” Ondine said as she saw the caged animals.

  The girl had the good sense not to make a scene. “Can we move on?” Hamish looked away, mind reeling at the thought that it could well be him going stir crazy in one of those the tiny cages.

  There but for Old Col go I.

  “Why don’t we buy them and set them free?” Ondine asked.

  In his heart he knew she was trying to be helpful. Setting ferrets free? Where would they go? He’d been lucky, he’d landed on his feet when he’d met Ondine.

  He thought about talking to them, asking what they wanted. Then he realised he couldn’t. The noise they made was just that, noise. He couldn’t understand them any more than Ondine could.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he hefted the boxes of fruit and vegetables and moved them away.

  “Are you all right? You’re looking mockit.”

  Hearing one of his words with her accent sounded twee, but it had a serendipitous effect in that he momentarily forgot the nausea brought on from seeing his fellow ferrets in a cage.

  “It’s OK. I just wasnae expecting to see that. They won’t be sold for food or fur, if that’s what yer worried about. They’ll be sold for rabbit hunting.”[55]

  Ondine gave him a sympathetic look, before she moved towards a display of pumpkins the colour of the morning sun. It was clear to him she hadn’t bought his explanation, but she wasn’t pressing him on it either.

  A woman who left a man alone to his thoughts. What a marvel. The tension eased from his shoulders and he fell in line behind Ondine.

  After an hour more of shopping and haggling, Ondine and Hamish carried their boxes of food to the street corner, where they waited for the others.[56]

  “Chef and Belle should be back soon,” Ondine craned her neck to see above the milling crowd. The sun was coming up, but the extra light didn’t help find her sister. “I’m too short. Help me stack these boxes.”

  Doing as he was told, Hamish piled the boxes on top of each other, so she could climb up and see over people’s heads. He held her hand steady; enjoying the warm buzz from touching her skin.

  Errant thoughts eh? What can you do about them?

  With a shudder, Ondine’s balance failed and she wobbled on the top box. His heart lurched. In a flash he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. “It’s OK, I’ve got you,” he said.

  She slipped further down in his arms and they were nose to nose. “So you have,” she said, sounding breathless.

  From behind his ribs, Hamish’s heart came alive as he held this feisty young woman in his arms. “Did ye see Chef or Belle while you were up there?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “So they could be a while then?” He was fascinated by how much Ondine’s eyes were dilating.

  “Yes,” it came out as a breath. “Could be.”

  A voice inside his head said, “I’ve lost my mind. I’ve gone and fallen in love.” And then a moment later, another voice in his head said, “Good for me, then.”

  If he kissed her now, would she kiss him back?

  A new – female – voice, piped in from the sidelines. “Are you right there?” It was Belle, standing beside Chef, both of them dragging their filled trolleys behind them. “We have to get all of this back into the cool room.”

  Although they’d pulled away at the rude intrusion, Hamish found himself unable to wipe the smile off his face. And from the flushed look of Ondine, perhaps his feelings would be reciprocated.

  Something lurched behind Hamish’s ribs.

  One spell broken, another taking its place?

  PULLING THE TROLLEYS behind them, Belle and Chef were able to hold hands on the walk back. No such luck for Ondine and Hamish, they hefted their boxes of food and couldn’t relax until they got back to the hotel.

  If her sister hadn’t interrupted them at the market, Ondine felt sure Hamish would have kissed her. Would he try again? She hoped so as she made her way out to the garden to wait for the sunrise.

  “I need to tell ye somethin
g, Ondi.” Hamish’s hand touched the back of hers.

  Ondine’s heart started racing in her chest and the skin on her arm puckered into goosebumps.

  “Yer cold.” He took his jacket off and placed it around Ondine’s shoulders. “There, fits ye better than me anyway.”

  A nod was all she could manage.

  “Ye don’t like me anymore?”

  Ondine gulped as her throat constricted. “No, that’s not true,” she replied, but she didn’t say anything else because her brain had stopped working properly. She didn’t say, “Hamish, I like you too much,” or “Hamish, you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” or “Hamish, you’d better ask me to marry you or I’m going to die right now.” Although her thoughts took her exactly along those lines.

  “I’m no psychic, so I can’t read yer mind. But I’ll tell ye what’s on mine,” he started.

  Ondine forgot how to breathe.

  “I’ve taken Old Col’s advice to heart. I need to mend my ways. Tonight has shown me that. I have it in me, I can reclaim my life, and make it a good life too.”

  Hamish shifted on the garden bench, and angled himself towards her. “Ondi, can ye please look at me? I want to know ye don’t hate me.”

  It took an almost superhuman effort, but somehow she managed to get her head to turn enough, and her eyelids to lift enough, so she could look him in the face. Not his twinkling eyes, which would hurt her heart too much if she looked deeply into them. She settled for his lips. That was a mistake, because the moment she looked at his mouth she wanted to kiss it.

  Stupid hormones. Turning me into an idiot.

  “You’ve shown me that it’s noble to be useful. To be part of a family. I’ve never had that before . . .”

  What he said didn’t make sense, because she barely heard half of it over her hammering heart. Was he saying he wanted to stay with her family, or was he about to return to his in Scotland?

  “I’ve asked yer ma and da if it’s all right if I can stay here. Just until I find me feet, like.”

  Yippee! Hamish is staying. Hamish is staying. Hamish is staying. Oh dear, did I say that out loud?

  “I’ve relied on other people’s charity for too long. I need to find my own way.”

  Hey? Had she missed a segue? One moment he was talking about staying, then he talked about leaving. She wished he’d make up his mind!

  Then he seriously overstepped the mark and took Ondine’s hands completely in his. “Do me a favour and keep away from Lord Vincent.”

  Fury took hold and her breath hitched. She pulled her hands away and felt her palms grow itchy. Oh, how she wanted to slap his smug face! It was bad enough that he was so beautiful, that she was sure he was about to kiss her in the market, that he said such lovely things right now . . . before ruining it all.

  “You sound just like Da.”

  “I want you to be happy, and I don’t think Lord Vincent would make you happy.”

  “So I’m not even allowed to have some fun?” she blurted out.

  Hamish looked into her eyes and a lopsided grin changed his face from serious to gleeful. “Aye, a girl like you should have some fun.”

  The reprieve gave Ondine a chance to collect herself. Anyone else would have patronised her, treated her like a child, but not Hamish. Guilt stabbed her heart. She owed him the same courtesy.

  “Hamish?” She hesitated, not knowing what to say next. It was right that he couldn’t stay indefinitely. Her parents were pretty generous, coping with everything that had transpired, but generosity has its limits.

  He leant closer, his eyes focused on her lips. Closer. Closer, his lips descended towards hers. His eyes closed, hers followed suit, her heart hammering with anticipation and belly turning flip-flops as she waited for his lips to touch hers.

  To her utter dismay, his lips touched her cheek instead.

  “Jupiter’s moons!” she exclaimed. If this was to be their first kiss (hopefully of many), she wanted it to be a good one. Seizing her chance, she held Hamish’s face in her hands and pressed her lips directly to his.

  An arrow-fast jolt of lust shot through Ondine and her breath caught. His lips felt so warm and inviting, the pressure not much more than chaste but the contact made her whole body buzz and fizz. Time locked around the two of them, extending the moment, filling her heart with a strange mixture of elation and pride. She’d kissed him, really kissed him, and hadn’t botched it up.

  Hamish pulled back, his shining eyes locked with hers. The smile he gave her sent warm flurries all around her.

  “Ye shouldnae done that,” he said, sounding like he, too, was short of breath.

  “Why not?”

  “Because now I have tae do this,” he said, parting his lips and pressing them back to Ondine’s, coaxing her to open to him. She nearly lost her mind at the intimate contact and the swathe of sweet and strange sensations roaring through her body. The kiss deepened and she heard a soft moan escape from Hamish. Tiny electric shocks danced over her lips.

  His chin felt prickly against her plump skin. Beard whiskers grazed her.

  “Ouch.” She pulled back and rubbed her fingertips over her inflamed skin.

  A half-embarrassed grin spread over her face. Her first pash-rash? Expecting to see the same delight in his expression, she met his eyes just as they were turning from green to black.

  Matching black fur spread over his face.

  “Oh no, not now!” A heavy weight grabbed at her heart.

  “What?” Hamish managed before he doubled over in pain, clutching at his belly. He reached to Ondine for support, and the skin over the back of his hand turned black and furry.

  The sun rose for the new day, casting the beer garden into pink-orange light. The full moon was gone. A pile of second-hand clothes sat lifeless on the ground. Where Hamish the man had been, now sat Shambles the ferret.

  Chapter Twelve

  Swearing. Some people are good at it, some people trip over their tongues. Take the not-yet-sixteen Ondine, for example. Her swearing wasn’t very advanced, because she’d had a reasonably protected life so far – as protected as a person can be while living in a pub.

  For example, when she becomes frustrated or shocked, she will just as likely say “Jupiter’s moons!” as “Clutterbuck!” (or something sounding very much like that). On the other hand, Shambles, who up until now had managed not to swear too much in front of the de Groot family, proved himself proficient in profanity.

  “Ye chanty wrassler, A’ll dun’t ye!”[57]

  His accent came back thick and strong. “A’ll gar ye claw whaur it’s no yeukie!”[58]

  “A’ll saut yer brose, Old Col!”[59]

  “Ma tongue isna unner yer belt!”[60]

  Despite the accent, some of his further swearing required no translation, which only made Ondine’s face burn with shame. Those lips she’d just kissed spewed forth the most fearsome curses.

  “Shambles, please calm down!” Her heart ached for the man he’d been not a moment ago. How horribly unfair that he should revert like this. Could the timing be any worse?

  Despite her pleas, Shambles would not be stopped. He swore some more, with a few new expressions. After he’d exhausted his repertoire, he went back to the start and repeated the tirade all over again.

  It was too cruel, watching him writhe about on the ground, her handsome young man reduced to ferret form again. Ondine felt her heart constrict, tied up like one of Chef’s string roasts. Heat seared her face and eyes. Something wet splashed on her cheeks. Oh for shame, she was crying! What was the point of trying to behave – and be treated – like an adult, if she ended up blubbering like a child who’d just found out Santa wasn’t real.[61]

  “What’s all the racket?” Ma said, as she came out to the garden and took in the scene of Ondine crying with a black ferret at her feet. “What did he do to you?”

  “It’s yer mad auntie, she’s struck me down again, and I didnae do anything!” Shambles complained, rubbing his
furry paws over his head in anguish.

  “We only kissed,” Ondine said, surprised to hear her words come out as a croak.

  “That’s highly inappropriate, Ondine de Groot,” Ma said.

  It’s a sure sign of trouble when parents use your full name. Ondine knew better than to argue with her parents when they were in a foul mood.[62]

  Actually, arguing with them at any point often proved a waste of time because she seldom emerged the winner. But all good sense had flown because their Beautiful Kiss had ended too soon, as had Hamish’s human form. “It was just a kiss,” she found herself repeating in a tone that implied it didn’t really matter, when in reality it really, really did matter. It mattered a whole lot.[63]

  She’d become good friends with Shambles the ferret, but Hamish the young man seemed the answer to her dreams. How long had she imagined what he’d be like as a real person? Then to get a glimpse of his true self, to let him into her heart – only to have it taken away so soon. Could life become any crueller?

  Shambles resumed swearing. Loudly and lustily.

  “Get inside, Ondine. I’d like to speak to Shambles alone,” Ma said.

  “You’re so unfair.” Ondine wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. “I’m not a baby, so stop treating me like one!”

  “We’ll stop treating you like one when you stop behaving like one,” Ma shot back.

  In frustration, Ondine’s hands balled into fists. This was an argument she couldn’t win, but she’d try anyway. “You were my age when you and Da got together, so that makes you a hypocrite as well!”

  “It was different then –” Ma started.

  “Oh, blow it out your ear!”

  Things went very silent. Ondine slapped her hand over her mouth in shock. She’d never spoken to her mother like that before, and the power of it made her heart hammer against her ribs.

  Ma stood there, mouth agape. Even Shambles stopped swearing and moaning on the ground.

  With lips pressed into two straight lines of fury, Ma straightened her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height, which was a couple of centimetres short of her youngest child. When had her mother shrunk so? Ondine wondered about this for a nanosecond before they resumed the mother–daughter showdown.