The Warrior

by RT Lucas

  “Ah huv need o’yer help Mannan.” Shuggie’s head bowed in reverence as the Sea God appeared in the guise of a shrivelled old man, grey from head to foot in a strange cloth, and sporting a pure white beard that was plaited to a point, past his knees. He was walking with a staff, leaning on it as he approached Shuggie.

  Mannan put his hand on Shuggie’s head and closed his eyes, then nodded and left without saying a word. Shuggie raised his head as he watched the wall of ocean pull back, the spray soaking him, but he barely noticed.

  As Shuggie was blessed by the pagan god, all his lands were covered by a heavy grey mist, almost the same colour as Mannan’s cloak. It looked like a veil of fog when standing in the grounds, but to the outside world, it masked the very existence of the land, keeping it safe and secret from the world of men. This was Mannan’s gift to Shuggie, but it had troubled the old God as to how it had been broken in the first place. He had warned Shuggie of dark forces at play, and to be vigilant.

  ****

  Teodora sat impatiently on their bed waiting for Shuggie’s return. Minutes seemed to be hours but as soon as she heard his foot on the bottom step she darted out of the room to meet him. “You went swimming?”

  Confused, Shuggie looked up at her, then realised what she was referring to and shook his head. “Naw, jist some sea-spray.” His voice was weary, but when he got to the top of the stairs, he scooped Teodora up in his arms and carried her back to their room.

  Teodora sat in Shuggie’s lap, feeling the dampness of his clothes saturate hers. “Hugh MacAndrew, I insist that you tell me why you executed that poor man today. He was defenceless and innocent!” She hadn’t raised her voice, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t furious with him. She didn’t think he could be so cold hearted and…evil!

  “Ah will tell ye all lass, but ye must no interrupt me. Ah cannae dae this unless ye let me tell it my way.”

  “As you wish,” Teodora snapped back at him, but she was praying inside that there was at least some sort of justifications for his actions.

  Shuggie inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before speaking. “This land was my Ancestors land – oor village wis doon by the loch-side. Ah built this castle oot o’ Clackmannan Stone wi’ ma oan bare hands, Centuries after all ma kin were deid an buried. No beings human oar Supernatural huv ever set foot upon this ground wi’oot mah permission. Those humans wur trespassing an hud tae take the consequences.”

  Teodora shook her head. “No, Hugh, you don’t simply murder someone for being on your property. That simply is not acceptable!” Or sane, she thought to herself.

  “Ye dinnae understand, lass.” He scrubbed his hand over his face several times, then tried to explain it better to her. “Afore ah wis a vampire, ah wis a Warrior here oan this land. Ah hud a family, a wife, brothers, sisters, friends. We hud a simple bit good life. That wis until one day oor lands were invaded. Ah hid tae go tae war tae protect the village, so ah made a sword and gave it tae mah wife tellin her tae leave wi’ the bairns an’ tae use the sword if needs be. Bit she didnae dae as ah bid. She stayed an when ah returned she an mah four bairns hud been slaughtered like the rest o’the villagers. The sword ah hud forged for her wis the weapon the bastards used tae massacred mah entire family.” Shuggie’s face was haunted as he told Teodora his story. Blood tears fell down his pale face and he couldn’t look at her. “The Elders an ma kinsmen aw blamed me fur their deaths, an ah wis chased oot o’ the village, marked as a murderer. Those humans were gawking o’er mah wife an bairns grave like it wis some sorta exhibit in a museum. They desecrated mah family’s grave Teodora. I couldnae let them dae that – kin ye forgive meh?” He put his head in his hands.

  Teodora’s heart was heavy in her chest as she listed to Shuggie. Cupping her hands on his face, she forced him to look at her. “Hugh, you were keeping your family’s honour, yes? You were only doing what you thought was right even after all of this time.” Her voice was strong, and level. “You must have loved them very much,” and as she said those words a pang of jealousy hit her.

  “Ah did love ma bairns, lass – mare than anythin ah loved them. Mhairi, mah wife – we were no in love, bit ah did respect her an ah mourned her loss as the mother o’ mah bairns.” Shuggie’s face was wracked with sadness.

  Teodora’s jealousy faded. She scolded herself for having such feelings for a dead woman, but the thought of her Warrior being in love with someone else brought out the territorial in her. She hadn’t, until this moment, realised she possessed such emotions. “Shuggah, you were doing what you thought was best, and you were honouring your dead. I understand, honestly I do.” After a short silence, her forehead creased and she dropped her hands onto her lap. “The authorities will come after us, for the death of that man – yes?” She was back to thinking practically, much more in her comfort zone.

  Shuggie shook his head. “Naw lass, ah huv taken measures tae ensure that we cannae be found.” As Teodora looked at him quizzically, he explained to her how they were, for all intents and purposes ‘invisible’ to the outside world, thanks to Mannan’s Cloak.

  Teodora’s face pulled a multitude of expressions, before laughing softly. “That is a super trick, Warrior.” She started to relax against him, and had noted that his body wasn’t as tense as it was before.

  “When we were talking, and you were sending me back to the castle, your eyes looked strange – what was happening?” Her scientific mind was more perceptive than most, and as she had never seen him do that before, her curiosity was piqued.

  Shuggie blinked and refocussed on her, the change in subject catching him off-guard. “Ah well…Ah wis trying tae mesmerise ye, lass. Dinnae get yer knickers in a twist – ah jist needed ye away frae there fast…” He had never tried to do that to her before, and since it was ineffective would never attempt it again, but he knew how a female’s psyche worked and he was more likely than not going to get a kick to the balls for pulling a trick like that on her.

  “It didn’t work though, did it?” Teodora was talking to herself. “Why didn’t it work? I mean – you tried a few times, yes?”

  “Four,” Shuggie reluctantly confessed, “an naw, it didnae work oan ye.”

  “But it troubles you that it didn’t work on me? Does it always work?”

  Shuggie shifted on the bed, clearing his throat before he spoke. “Aye, normally it always takes lass – oan humans and Supernatural’s alike. The only other being that disnae take tae it is the Commander, an that’s oan account o’ his messed up DNA. I cannae mesmerise ye fur a completely different reason.”

  “Which is?” Teodora’s focussed on him, wondering why he was taking so long to spit it out.

  “It is oan account o’ ye bein mah One True Mate, Teodora. Ah cannae compel ye cos ye are mine.” He watched her reaction intently.

  A slow smile spread over her lips. “So I am immune to your mind–games, Warrior? Well I did not require any clarification that we were meant to be together, but it is reassuring to know there is a physiological reason for it too, yes?” She giggled as she pushed the huge Scotsman to lay on the bed. “But I think you should be punished for trying to overtake my mind, don’t you Warrior?”

  Teodora didn’t give him a chance to answer.

  ****

  Shona jumped out of the back of the police car and she spun around wildly, pointing and shouting.

  “It was...we were...it was right here Officer.” All the coordinates were correct, the maps all showed where they had located the dig, but the entire section of land had ‘disappeared’.

  “Have you been drinking, Miss?” The unamused Officer asked.

  “No…No! I’m telling you it was right here and Mark – oh God, Mark!” Shona was becoming hysterical and started shouting for Mark as the Police Officer escorted her back to the car, calling on his radio.

  “Looks like a false alarm, some college kids pulling a prank. Coming back to the station, but you might want to arrange a psychiatric evaluation for this one, she’s a bit
manic.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Thomas sat at his computer, his fingers stationary on the keyboard as he tried to figure out what to type. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and none of it was making any sense.

  Opening a new email, he typed in the address of the Russian who had part funded the dig.

  [VBaranovsky@BaranovskyEnterprises.com]

  ‘I am Treasurer for the dig that you kindly invested in, but have some terrible news.’ He deleted the sentence and tried again. ‘My Name is Thomas McCulloch, Archaeologist and Treasurer of the dig that you have invested in recently, Drumnadrochit, Scotland. Unfortunately there have been developments which I need to update you on….’

  Half an hour later, Thomas finished typing but before he got the courage to press ‘send’ he grabbed a bottle of whisky and drank straight from the bottle, nearly vomiting afterwards. His eyes scanned the document again which gave details of the find, then the mysterious stranger with the strange eyes and teeth who confronted them, and then the unexplainable ‘vanishing’ site, Mark’s simultaneous disappearance, and Shona’s mental breakdown. Thomas had been there and knew the truth, but when he read the version of events in black and white, even he didn’t believe it – so how could he expect a wealthy businessman halfway across the globe to? There was only one way for him to find out. He pressed ‘send’.

  ****

  Valentin Baranovsky was glad to get out of his mansion and away from his companion. She no longer thrilled him. She terrified him, and the reaction she had had to Martinez’ indiscreet communication had just been the tip of the iceberg.

  The confusing thing for Baranovsky was that although Martinez seemed on the face of it to be setting him up, he had come good with his delivery of the new drug he was wanting him to buy and market. A container had shipped and the delivery made to one of his warehouses just outside of the city. As his limo drew up outside the warehouse, his guard opened the door and escorted him inside. He never took any chances, especially when out in the open – he had too many enemies and would be a trophy kill for a rival mob faction. Besides, every Mafia boss worth his salt was taking extra precautions after the Belcastro incident.

  As the boxes were unloaded and checked, Baranovsky sat in the chair located in the middle of the warehouse and peeled off his back leather gloves, his full length fur coat hanging over his shoulders. It was so cold, that when he spoke his breath fogged, and yet the man opposite him was dressed only in his boxers and socks. He had been tied to his chair, with a gag shoved in his mouth.

  “Proceed,” Baranovsky waved his hand dismissively and watched with impassive eyes as the needle was inserted into the man’s arm. He wanted the product tested before he began to market it. Just another safety precaution, to ensure that he wasn’t being betrayed in some way. The man slumped awkwardly in the chair, the restraints the only thing keeping him upright, and he lapsed into a deep trance with a beatific smile and glazed look on his face.

  “What is this drug called again?”

  His guard spoke quietly and Baranovsky nodded. “Euphoria indeed!” Clapping his hands together he smirked, “Then let us start distribution of this new product this afternoon.” Turning to another guard he added, “And keep me updated on the test subject, and sales information.” He had seen enough to know that he had a superior quality narcotic that would run his rivals out of business. Perhaps he had misjudged Martinez after all.

  As he returned to his Mansion, Baranovsky went straight to his office – he wanted to immerse himself in work, reducing the amount of time he had to spend with his companion. He contemplated having her killed and dumped, but something inside of him told him it wouldn’t be that easy. Demure had turned to danger, coy to calculating and mysterious to murderous. No, he had to tread this tightrope very carefully to reach a satisfactory solution.

  As Baransovksy opened the door, he heard his companion’s voice.

  “Lock the door, darlink.” She turned around in his burgundy leather high backed chair like a Bond villain. Her bright red lipstick had smudged over her lips and her large chocolate coloured eyes were staring at him, daring him to defy her. “Eleven more minutes to go…”

  Baranovsky’s blood chilled in his veins. Doing as she instructed he stood stock still. “What a lovely surprise.” He was trying to keep calm, but didn’t think it was working because his right hand was starting to tremor.

  The companion tightened a chain around her hand as she remained seated behind his desk, and a muffled scream seemed to be coming from under the desk. Baranovsky’s eyes darted in the direction of the noise, but she diverted his attention.

  “Surprises? I am not so happy with surprises, Val. I like...hmmm...I like control” her cackle made his brain hurt. “Sit down, Val…I have much to discuss with you. Ten more minutes to go...”

  He didn’t want to sit down – he wanted to get the hell out of there and keep running, but his feet were moving against his will, and he felt the chair sliding behind his knees forcing him to sit down. Only then did he realise what was making that strange noise – there was a man under the desk, chained and bleeding, kneeling at her side like an obedient dog. Baranovsky’s eyes bulged and his mouth was suddenly very dry.

  “Control?” his voice was starting to betray him “What do you need control of Mabel, my little butterfly?” His smile couldn’t quite form on his face, but he was trying – so hard. As he stared closer at his companion, he realised that it wasn’t her lipstick that had smudged over her mouth – it was blood. He recoiled at this revelation.

  “You mortals – pah! Beyond pathetic … If you want something done, you have to do it yourself, isn’t that right Val?” She smiled a grotesque, bloody smile at him and gave another hard pull of the chain in her hand which earned another pained cry from under the desk. “Nine more minutes to go….”

  “Now, Val, you have disappointed me, and I don’t handle disappointment well. I would like to say I could forgive you, but I could never forgive disappointment – only forget.” She gave a throaty cackle again as her mouth seemed to tear a little at the corners, trickling fresh blood over the drying mess on her chin.

  Where were his guards? Baranovsky’s panic was in full throttle now, his flight or fight instinct stuck on ‘flight’. As though she could read his mind, Mabel leaned forward tut-tutting and shaking her head. “You wouldn’t want to leave me,” she pouted and fluttered her eyelashes at him. He could feel his nails scratching into the wood of the armrests as he backed away in the chair, unable to get back up.

  “Eight more minutes to go...”

  “How have I disappointed you, love of my life?” Bile was rising in his throat, but he was fighting with himself to keep control of himself.

  Mabel sneered. “If you have to ask, you’re too stupid for me to explain it to you.” She sat staring at him for what seemed like hours, but was only minutes.

  “Tick Tock, Val…Tick, tick, tick, tick...Tock!!” throwing her head back, laughing and screaming indecipherable words, Baranovsky knew that he was staring into the heart of madness.

  Suddenly, her laughter stopped and she stood up, dragging the man in chains behind her – he was crawling on his knees and stumps where his hands once had been. “All you had to do Val was to please me – such a simple little task, and yet...” She was standing in front of him, and he could smell rotten flesh and decay which was turning his stomach even more. Suppressing the vomit in his mouth, he turned his head away from her and squeezed his eyes shut. Where the hell was his security detail? He needed them to save him from her.

  In a horrifying mimic of the broken Russian’s voice Mabel squeaked his inner thoughts back to him. “Save me, save me, savemesavemesavemesave meeee! Isn’t it custom for humans to be on their knees when they beg for salvation?” she taunted him. “Seven more minutes to go…”

  Before Baranovsky had a chance to open his eyes, he found himself kneeling on the floor beside the mutilated man and at the feet of his tormento
r.

  “He had wanted me to use you for his own needs. He thought he could use me to gain your trust, but he underestimated Mabel! Yes, he underestimated her – they all underestimate me…why is that?” She had tilted her head to the side and was looking down at Baranovsky, her voice suddenly fragile.

  These constant mood swings were going to give him whiplash, Baranovsky thought – and wondered if she was truly wanting an answer, or if he spoke would it incur her wrath again? While he was contemplating that, he seen out the corner of his eye a small piece of meat discarded on the floor – a raw steak?

  A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew as Baranovsky realised it wasn’t raw steak – but a severed tongue! It must have belonged to the whimpering man beside him.

  Mabel grinned, picking up the tongue and waving it in front of Baranovsky’s face. “Ah yes, you like this? I bit it out of his mouth when he tried to talk untruths to me!” she smiled, smugly. “Six more minutes to go…”

  Baranovsky’s eyes looked from the tongue to Mabel’s’ mouth – realising that was why she had so much blood on her face. She disgusted him to his very bone marrow. And what was with the ‘countdown’? More minutes to what? Baranovsky thought that he was having some sort of delirium or madness of his own – trapped in a nightmare and unable to wake up. This was no nightmare – this was real and he was trapped at the mercy of an insane maniac!

  “And I cut off his hands.” Mabel yanked the chain and the man’s tears flooded from his dull eyes. “…because he was trying to keep what was mine from me! Isn’t that right, pet?” She drawled “Five more minutes to go…”

  Thomas hadn’t experienced pain or fear like it in his life – he was the head of a Mafia clan – had ordered atrocities the likes of which could be seen in horror movies but nothing he could have imagined could compare to this – and he never thought for one minute that it would ever happen to him.