Scarlet Vamporium: Vamporium #2 Page 2

  Oh! That kind of smoking. Don't I just feel a total fool.

  The line twitches in my hands and I look at him with wide alarmed eyes. “Help!”

  “It willnae put up much of a fight. Just wind the little handle there on the side.” Putting a companionable hand on my shoulder, he watches the process, “Ye can do this Ellindt, I ha'e total faith in ye.”

  I'm furiously wheeling the handle, pulling the line closer until I have a gorgeous black spotted little fishy hanging in front of me.

  I'm so excited I swing around and hug him, “Oh my gosh, I totally freaking did it!”

  He stiffens into a freeze and it ruins my jubilation in an instant. Stepping back, now awkward, I swing the line between us, dangling the trout. It's a poor bid to quell the tension which flared up in our easy tranquility.

  He holds my gaze for a long ten seconds, his slate irises clouding with something intangible. His eyes are as inclement as the weather, flashing from congenial to darkly moody. He's a hard one to read.

  He breaks the spell, taking the fish off the line for me and placing it into the waiting basket on the ground, saying, “Yer one of the few people on earth who can say they got tae fish in the Coe. It's forbidden. A few folk let ye fish on private land, and ye cannae catch in a stream this narrow unless there's been a really good downpour the day before. Ma mate Gordon, he owns this land, well his family dae, and he lets me fish occasionally, with permission ye ken. Usually ye would fish fer trout with a fly fishin' rod, but I wasnae in the mood tae fanny about. I just wanted tae get in and get out, ye know?”

  Tilting my head, I watch him.

  Wiping his hands on his knees where he crouches, he stares at me levelly, his eyes wide and the hold unwavering.

  “So you were in a mood and wanted to be alone, and then I came along and ruined it for you?” I say.

  Then why be all friendly? Why not just say I want to be alone - go away you nosy tourist.

  “I dinnae mean it like that.” He stands in one fluid movement and it is almost aggressive. “I'm done fishin', dae ye want tae take a stroll? There's a fine view down intae the glen not far from here.”

  I give him a nod, choosing silence, really wanting to take another peek at the little fish I caught.

  He gives me an apologetic smile and hands me the basket, “Would ye mind carrying that fer a sec? I just have tae put ma shirt back on.”

  Taking the handle from him I immediately open the lid and stare inside at my fish the sheeny hue of a champagne-pearl. He's so pretty it seems a shame to eat him.

  I wonder how you tell which are boys and which are girls?

  He yanks a navy t-shirt over his head and picks up the rod and gadgets that come with it. Without asking he retrieves the basket from me and hooks the strap on his shoulder, nudging his head, “This way.”

  As he does it his hair threads across his face, sticking to barely visible fair stubble.

  I wonder how old he is?

  Nodding with a small smile I step into line behind him on the narrow woodland path, watching his feet as they compact henna-dark decomposing mulch which scents the forest with moist earthy spice. Holding my skirt up off the ground I glance up often; I don't want to miss a thing. Everything about Scotland feels like an adventure. He calls fishing forbidden, but this entire enclave feels forbidden, as if I've stumbled on a secluded secret.

  He has a long stride, covering ground quietly and quickly, and I'm distracted by the blunt ends to his hair where it hangs below his shoulder blades. His t-shirt is so snug I can still see every muscle in his back flexing while he walks.

  I'm so busy daydreaming at the sight that I almost bump into him when he stops abruptly. Immediately he drops onto his haunches, reaching behind him with an arm and gently pulling me down to his level.

  “Shhh, dae ye see it?” he says in a low murmur.

  The shadows ahead of us through the trees subtly shift, and I see what he sees. Oh it's just too cute! It's still a bit of a young one, his fur rusty-red leading to dark brown at his black hooves. He skips over a rock, flashing a bright white bum at us beneath a stubby tail.

  Stooping his neck he has a nibble, glancing up with ears pricked, big innocent espresso eyes scanning his environment through long lashes.

  “He's beautiful,” I whisper softly to Doug.

  He squeezes my hand in answer. Just then mommy deer steps from behind a thick trunk, watching over her teenage offspring.

  My heart melts all the way to my toes when a squirrel scuttles across a fallen log, halfway between us and the deer. He's so darling with his bristly bushy tail that reaches up beyond his ears. He sits back on his hind legs, lifting up, sniffing the air. His little nose twitches something fierce while he absently gives his fluffy white chest and tummy a scratch.

  His movement disturbs the deer and they hop away, but little squirrel man looks directly at us and then scarpers quickly, racing up a tree to get far away from us lurkers.

  My limbs are weak with awe. I've never been totally in nature like this, I've been a city girl my whole life. This is beyond my hopes for dawdling through the forest to entertain myself on my first lonesome morning here.

  Yet here I am, I've caught a brown trout which is not brown at all, I've seen roe-deer, and the cutest red squirrel ever. I feel like I fell into a Disney movie.

  Slowly, silently, Doug swivels on the balls of his feet to smile widely at me. His joy is as obvious as mine.

  For no reason whatsoever my eyes sting with tears. The moment I just witnessed is affecting me emotionally now.

  “You must love it here,” I whisper.

  He squeezes my hand again and finally lets it go, “Aye, there's nae doubt about that.”

  “It's fabulous,” I mumble, my voice thickening and choking me. The tears win, slipping down my right cheek.

  He thumbs it away as if he has been in this situation often. Giving me an understanding smile his full lips compress just the once, his deep gray eyes flicking to charcoal intensity. “It's our duty tae keep them safe. There are some places in this world where mankind has nae right tae be interferin'.” He gestures to the forest cloaking us, “This is one of those places. Here we are the visitor and we must nae take more than we absolutely need or the next generation cannae have this experience.”

  “They're both so ginger and rusty.” It's just an observation.

  He laughs, soft and low, it's intimate, “Och aye. In Celtic lore the color of red on any creature, animal or human, it means they hail from the other side. They belong tae the faeries, they walk between realms. Sometimes the faeries adopt animal shapes as a disguise, but ye know them because they always ha'e red fur. Only a dead heart would kill a creature with red fur, and only an eejit would anger the fey.”

  He shakes his head, losing the mood we just shared, crushing the awestruck moment, “Everything I catch goes tae feedin' my family. I caught only three fish, one fer each of us, and I ha'e permission tae fish in that burn. It's our duty tae have the survival skills, it's in our blood ye ken. But it makes me seethin' livid when tourists barge in tae take from this land. There's somethin' hallowed about Glencoe, I cannae explain it...”

  His jaw tenses and the muscles flex, his bitter anger evident.

  “I promise I won't hunt here.” I might hunt you though.

  I'm worried he's accusing me of something just because I'm a foreigner. “What's a burn?”

  “Och, I dinnae mean you,” he instantly smiles, and his entire expression clears. “And a burn is a wee stream.”

  He gives me a look that plainly wonders if I'm strange. Maybe I am because I thought burn was heat induced pain, not cool clean stream.

  Wow, to have a face that expressive, it's literally like the relief when you get to bask in a ray of sunshine breaking through on a cloudy day.

  He laces his fingers through mine, pulling me up with him, “Come on, we cannae sit here all day, we're disturbin' the beasties.”

  He starts walking along the trail
again, this time keeping my hand cherished in his.

  My pulse frolics gaily at the contact, his hold folding his presence right around my heart and blasting me through with a buoyant thrill. Looking at our hands locked together, I take it as a sign. He likes me.

  Savoring the long legs and powerful arms traversing in front of me, he's like a shield between me and an alien environment. I know as long as I'm with him I'm going to love it here.

  Glancing up I spy another robin peering down at me from the branches we slink beneath. He must be my guardian angel, he led me straight to Doug. As if in answer he twits once, then takes off back the way we came.

  He's red too. He could even be a fairy in disguise. A red breast marks his lineage.

  Smiling, I walk looking everywhere, amazed by this sacrosanct corner of the world where I am lucky enough to wander with a Highlander holding my hand. He makes me strangely safe and happy.

  Chapter 2

  Ellindt:

  Once we're settled on a large flat rock overlooking the steep incline down the valley, Doug gestures to the right. “Down there, that's Loch Achtriochtan.”

  His smile is wide as a Frisbee, his tone laced with pride, “If you ever go down there in the winter ye'll see whooper swans. It's been a slow process but their numbers are finally increasin' each year.”

  Nodding at my tour guide, I say, “I've never heard of a whooper swan.”

  He chuckles, saying through his laugh, “In the old days they called 'em elk. That one really confuses the tourists. They're just white swans and look regular. You can tell them by the color of the beak, it's yella with a black tip. But they grow huge, some weighing as much as thirty-one pounds.”

  “Wow, that is big,” I nod, not nearly as excited by swans as he is.

  “I dinnae suppose talk of wild duck and swan are yer thing.”

  What's he, a mind reader?

  I shrug, offering a bashful smile.

  “So why are yer dressed like you walked out of the wrong century?” he says.

  “I wasn't planning on bumping into anyone because our home is remote, and because I'm stuck here without my twin I had to keep myself entertained.” Smiling wider now, almost embarrassed to be caught, I confess, “I found a bunch of old clothes in a bedroom and decided to get dressed up and just be girly.”

  “You have a twin?” he says, looking delighted.

  “A brother,” I say, nodding as if it's no big deal to smash his hopes of two of me.

  “So you have a brother?”

  “Yup. Three of them. One older, one younger, and my twin who's my age.”

  “Any sisters?” he asks, lifting my hand and turning it over as if he's going to read mysteries from my palm print. He's a real tracker, what was he hoping for, a hoof and spoor?

  “No sisters,” I say, waiting for my hand back.

  “You've been eatin' blaeberries,” he smiles, examining the purple splodge left on my finger from holding blueberries. Looking back up at me, releasing my hand, he says with his dimples deepening, “Must be tough being the only girl.”

  Shaking my head, catching my long hair to stop the wind from whipping him with it, I say, “Not really, I get preferential treatment because of it. My uncle is tougher on them than on me. Especially Seithe. For some reason he expects Seithe to be a saint.”

  “Who's Seithe?” he asks.

  “He's my twin. I get the impression uncle Venix is training him to take over the family responsibilities one day.” Tired of talking about me, I say, “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”

  “A younger brother.”

  I take the opening, “So how old are you?”

  “Twenty-one. You?”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  “How almost?” he asks.

  “Next week,” I smile.

  “Oh! So it's nearly yer birthday.” He looks excited when he says, “Are ye busy tonight? Dae ye fancy coming to a ceilidh?”

  “What's a kaylee?”

  “A ceilidh is just a bunch of friends getting together and having a bit of a party. The boys will be there jammin', and och everyone just has a good time ye know? It'll give ye a chance tae meet some of the locals. Then we'll have a proper excuse tae have one on yer birthday and ye won't be a stranger.”

  “I don't know, Doug. I'm not sure I'm allowed to go out. I'll have to ask my aunt.” Worried that I'm probably underage, I pry, “Where will it be? Is there an age restriction?”

  “It's a house party so there's nae age restriction.” He gives me a goofy smile, as if finding my ignorance of how his world ticks amusing.

  “I'll ask Selene,” I nod. “Do you have a cell phone? Then I can just text you about tonight.”

  “Sure,” he nods, scrounging inside his jean pocket and yanking out his phone. “What's yer number? I'll send a missed call tae yer phone so you have mine.”

  I rattle off the digits, suddenly aware that Selene is calling for me. She sounds worried.

  Ellindt! Don't hide from me when I call you! If you think I can't find you, think again!

  Standing abruptly, I'm panicked at the thought of Selene finding me sitting in isolation with Doug. Fraternizing with boys is how I ended up in trouble in the first place.

  “I have to go. I'll call you later,” I say, rushing up the slope and onto the path. Snapping back to face him I offer a quick smile, “It was very nice to meet you. Sorry I have to dash but my aunt is calling for me.”

  Without looking back I gather up my skirt in tight fists and sprint a good distance into the trees, think of Selene's garden, and instantly appear on the lawn.

  She swivels to face me, anger making her eyes glow molten silver. “Where were you?”

  “I was exploring. What do you expect me to do, sit around and mope all day?”

  “You were far away missy because I was calling you for an age.”

  She has an uncanny knack of knowing my thoughts so I decide to just come clean straight away. “I was following a bird down at the bottom of the garden when I bumped into a boy fishing in the stream. I caught my first trout!”

  “And you sound so proud to be fishing while I stress that you've been attacked, or kidnapped, or hurt!”

  “Selene, you freak out over nothing. I'm a vampyre, I doubt anyone could hurt me.”

  “And that's exactly the kind of attitude that will get you murdered. These people aren't ignorant savages, Ellindt. They are one of the few cultures still walking this earth who remember us. They remember what we look like.”

  “Seriously? Selene, all he did was talk about smoking fish and the population growth of wild swans. He took me to see the deer in the forest. He may as well be called Ray Mear because he's into survival and nature, and that's all he talked about!”

  “Well thank god one boy has his head screwed on the right way. Is he simple? It's not often the opposite sex doesn't react to a vampress.”

  “He didn't seem simple. I just think he'd rather be catching fish than entertaining girls.”

  This seems to relax her and she smiles, her eyes dulling back to brilliant blue, “Good.” Linking her arm in mine, she starts to march me back up to the house, “Why are you wearing my old clothes?”

  “This is yours?” I ask, fingering the coarse linen of my skirt.

  “Of course it is. This is my house isn't it? We live forever, and well, sometimes I don't have the heart to burn the old just because the world lost good taste in feminine clothing. We don't all like to wear jeans and sweaters constantly. I'm a lady, not a wench.”

  As we reach the top step to the manor, I swallow my nerves and broach the subject. “Do you think you'd let me go to a house party with Doug?”

  “Who's Doug?”

  “The boy I met fishing.”

  “How old is Doug?” she says, staring down her nose at me with her hand propped on her hip.

  This is where she explodes.

  “Twenty-one.”

  Steeling myself for a parental tantrum, I wait it out, ho
lding her gaze without flinching, without betraying my anxiety.

  “And he didn't react to you?”

  “Did he kiss me or ask me on a date, alone? Did he think the sun shines from my rack and try to get fresh? ... no. He did say I might like to meet some of the locals so I'm not a stranger, which is why he invited me to a kaylee at a friend's house tonight. I see no harm in meeting the locals. I may as well get a bit of exposure to this place and the people before I'm shipped off back to my warden.”

  I stress the word alone, making sure she gets the point that we'll be a crowd, not some romantic moonlit stroll down on the banks of Loch Achtriochtan.

  She stares vacantly for a second, pursing her lips in deep thought before snapping her full focus back on me. “I will allow it, but I want you back here the second you think they suspect you're different. Blend in, dress down...” She steps closer, dropping her voice, “And do not tell your uncle I allowed you to have some fun.”

  Yay! She's actually on my side!

  Bouncing, I squeal, “Really? I can go?”

  “Yes. But don't be home late or I'll get worried.”

  “Yay! Okay!” I go running for the stairs, “I'm going to phone Doug!”

  I miss her smile because I'm so busy torpedoing up to the second floor to unearth my phone from my bag.

  *

  Douglas:

  Standing up at the top of the ridge, looking down at me, again her beauty strikes me as extraordinary. Her long wavy hair is the color of sun kissed moonlight. It's so pale it's almost white, but it holds the warmth of blonde in it.

  “It was very nice to meet you. Sorry I have to dash but my aunt is calling for me.”

  Her voice is a melody, it's soothing and hypnotic, as pretty as her face.

  Before I can find my own voice, she's gone.