One Eye forced a smile, Helen’s warning ringing in his ears. “Yes.”
CHAPTER 8
Raven and Damon spent the day scouring the many villages that dotted the southern end of Skye. Some were no more than hamlets and they found hide nor hair of One Eye. They searched the village of Kyleakin, where the bridge running over the water from the Kyle of Lochalsh met the island. Here they found Castle Moil - which was no more than a ruined tower - where the Norwegian princess One Eye had been so interested in had lived. No one was there permanently from any organisation they could ask about visitors to the site. There was even a Castle Moil restaurant, which they thought might have attracted One Eye but enquiries there proved fruitless.
After trawling the few places to stay in the village and getting nowhere they moved on to Kylerhea, a hamlet just south of Kyleakin, the road between the two villages on a steep ascent. Damon was secretly glad the careful, cautious Raven was driving as they negotiated the hair-pin bends, grateful when the road descended into Kylerhea. Their search there yielded nothing, Damon grumbling that the only thing the place had to offer was bloody otters.
Ornsay and Armadale showed no sign of One Eye either. As the latter had a castle they thought One Eye may have been drawn there. It sat on a manned estate but none of the staff members they spoke to recognised his photo. No one at the hotel or any of the guesthouses had seen him. By the time they’d finished it was getting late, so they decided to spend the night in the village. The only bed and breakfast with vacancies had one double room available. Left with no choice, Raven booked them in.
“I hope you’re not going to forget rule number four,” she told Damon, who was grinning at the double bed.
“Course not.”
She flashed him a doubtful look. “Just so you know, I always carry an overnight bag in the back of my car, which contains a thick pair of pyjamas. So don’t go getting any ideas about us sleeping naked together.”
“I didn’t bring a bag,” he replied with that infuriating grin. “My stuff is still in the hotel in Inverness, so I’ll have to sleep in my undies.”
“As tempting as that thought is, you can wear this instead,” she said, retrieving the complimentary white bathrobe from the small en-suite bathroom and holding it out to him.
“That can’t contain me,” he said proudly.
“Try. Or you could be a gentleman and sleep in the armchair and let me have the bed.”
“That’s not bloody fair,” he said, smile falling. “I can’t fit on that thing.”
“Then you’ll have to behave yourself. I’m putting a line of pillows down the middle of the bed. As long as you stay on your side we shouldn’t have a problem.”
“I don’t know, I shift about a lot in my sleep. I might not be able to stop myself,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.
She delved into one of the capacious pockets of her black coat to retrieve what at first glance appeared to be a bracelet. “If you don’t behave yourself I’ll put this on your wrist. Each time you try anything I’ll shock you,” she said, holding up a small black square with a red button.
Damon had felt the full force of what those little gadgets could do. His dad, the inventor, made them himself. Once, he’d put one on and shocked himself just to feel what it could do. He was not keen to repeat the experience. “Okay, I get the message. Your honour will remain intact.”
“It better because if it doesn’t your tackle won’t remain intact,” she replied, making him wince. “I wonder if we made a mistake not going straight to Portree? It’s the only town on the island. If One Eye wanted to blend in he might have gone there.”
“We talked about this and agreed to check the south side of the island first because it’s nearer the bridge back to the mainland. Dad always likes to leave himself a quick escape route and that’s the best.”
“What if he didn’t have any choice but to head north?”
“We don’t know that. We’ve got to do this in the logical order.”
“I suppose.” She sighed and sank onto the bed. “I just thought we would have found him by now.”
Damon sat beside her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Me too. I thought we’d be heading home with him already, not running around a Scottish island.”
When his hand moved up towards her neck, fingers playing in her hair, his arm was wrenched aside and the dreaded bracelet snapped on his wrist.
“For fuck’s sake Raven,” he exclaimed. “Take it off.” One of the cruelties of this bracelet was that if you tried to remove it with anything except the key it caused you extreme pain with a series of vicious shocks.
“No,” she said, getting to her feet. “It’s my insurance policy to ensure you keep your hands to yourself for the rest of this trip.”
“I was only trying to comfort you.”
“I know what you were trying to do Damon and this will ensure you don’t do it again. I did warn you. Rule number four, remember?”
“I hadn’t forgotten,” he snapped.
“Come on, let’s get something to eat. I’m paying.”
“And I want a pint.”
“You can have two if you like.”
“Alright,” he smiled. “You’re forgiven.”
It was almost four o’clock before One Eye was able to extricate himself from Frederick, who had allowed him brief respite from his photos while they ate an excellent lunch before deluging him all over again. He was surprised by how exhausted he was and not just because he’d been confronted by a never-ending stream of slightly blurred photographs of small furry creatures, birds and grass. He’d be seeing them in his sleep.
There was more to his tiredness than catatonic boredom. He’d been wandering for a long time and he was only just realising how much it was taking its toll on him but One Eye lived for seeing new places, meeting new people and gathering wisdom about the world. When he was still he became stagnant and bored. The world was forever changing and he needed to keep up with it.
It wasn’t the first time Silas Hagen had pursued him. While One Eye lived for learning about the world and gathering knowledge, his nemesis lived for destruction. They’d been sparring partners for a long time and he was sick of it, all thanks to a family feud that started years ago over a land dispute. Their families had owned neighbouring farms in Norway and the random sabotage each family had perpetrated on the other’s business had eventually erupted into violence, starting with a fight between One Eye and Silas’s older brother, Kurt. Even when One Eye had moved to England with a young Damon after his son’s life had been threatened by the Hagens he’d failed to escape the feud. Kurt had attempted to kill them both. When Silas and Kurt’s third attempt to destroy them had failed two years ago, One Eye knew he had to act. So he’d taken Raven and Damon to Norway, met up with more of the family who still lived there and attacked the Hagen homestead. Only Kurt and Silas had been in at the time. Due to superior numbers One Eye and his family had won the battle, killed Kurt and burnt down the farm with Kurt’s body and a still living Silas trapped inside, so secure in their victory they hadn’t taken the time to check that Silas had actually perished in the blaze, an error that was coming back to haunt them. Thank god Kurt was dead and gone. Silas was a deadly enough prospect but Kurt…he was in the realm of monsters.
One Eye drifted off to sleep, waking just after midnight. After trying to go back to sleep and failing he sighed and sat up in bed, wondering what his next move should be. He couldn’t leave here any time soon, not until his ankle was better. In his current state he couldn’t drive and he certainly couldn’t walk. But Silas would be back. He just hoped he left the good people of Caillte alone.
One Eye didn’t know what drew him to the window, some finely honed instinct perhaps but he was almost overwhelmed by the urge to look outside. His window looked directly over the pine forest running the length of the village, obscuring it from view of the B&B. Tonight the moon was hidden by thick cloud, so all he could see was blackness but instinct told hi
m something or someone was in that forest, watching him. Perhaps it was just his imagination? He couldn’t imagine Silas being in there in the dark, after all he wouldn’t be able to see.
There was movement right outside his window. A vague shape moved away from the B&B, heading down the road leading into the village, their silhouette briefly lit by the street light at the end of the drive. It was a relief that it wasn’t Silas. Judging by their build it was either Alan or Frederick. Interesting.
That night, while Damon snored his head off on the other side of the barrier of pillows she’d lined up down the bed Raven lay awake, unable to sleep, worried sick about One Eye, especially now they knew for certain Silas was behind his disappearance. She didn’t know what she’d do if she lost the only father she’d ever known.
With a sigh she got to her feet and padded over to the window. Their room was on the second floor, so they had a great view across the village to the sea, the moon shining down on the dark water. Silas was out there somewhere, the bane of their family who they’d wrongly and catastrophically assumed was dead.
It was tempting to take some mescaline, an hallucinogen she always turned to when she sought hope. She couldn’t prepare it as a tea, which was her usual way of taking it as she didn’t have the necessary apparatus with her. Neither had she brought the cactus, for reasons of logistics. However she had brought the mescaline salts for microdosing.
Raven washed down the salts with a bottle of orange juice. She was careful to consume only a small amount, she didn’t want the effects lasting into the morning. As it was eleven o’clock she took enough to last seven hours, so the effects should start to wear off at six in the morning, hopefully. Usually she wouldn’t consider taking mescaline during the middle of an assignment, she kept it strictly for recreational use but sometimes the visions the drug gave her could help her see something she was missing.
Raven sat cross-legged on the floor, closed her eyes and rested her hands on her knees, breathing in deeply, waiting for the effects of the drug to kick in while trying to block out Damon’s snoring. Opening an eye she scowled at him, picked up one of his boots which he’d discarded on the floor and threw it at him. It hit him square in the back, bouncing off and falling to the floor on the other side of the bed. He snorted and mumbled something into the pillow before turning on his side and drifting back off to sleep, minus the snoring.
“Thank God for that,” she said before closing her eyes again, allowing herself to relax, her turbulent thoughts settling before petering away to nothing until she was sat in perfect peace.
The warmth slowly started to build, emanating from her stomach before rolling through her body like a pleasant wave. This was soon followed by the visuals, starting with gentle colours and mosaics flashing across her vision, the colours more vivid and textured than anything she’d seen with her physical eyes.
Just as she settled into the comforting warmth and glorious colours, a loud caw filled her ears and black wings fluttered before her eyes, making her jump.
Forcing her eyes to remain closed she settled back down, only for a louder caw to ring through her ears.
The colours before her shifted and twisted, the bright pinks, reds and yellows sucked away, swirling into dark greens and browns until they settled and formed themselves into something more definite. Raven found herself standing on a stark beach, the water beside her rolling off into nothingness, the sky grey and turbulent. The shingle crunched beneath her boots as she walked, a cold but gentle breeze blowing her hair across her face, which she brushed back out of her eyes.
Another caw drew her attention upwards to the branches of an old, gnarled tree clinging to the coastline, its limbs twisted from the constant fight it put up against the icy coastal blasts. The raven launched itself into the air, unfurling its wings, the black feathers flecked with a navy blue sheen. Its beak opened wide as it flew towards her. It seemed it was going to strike her but she stood her ground. The ravens had never hurt her.
As it reached her the raven’s body twisted and contorted, enlarging, the feathers morphing into smooth pale skin. The man standing before her was a complete stranger. She’d never seen him in either real life or during a mescaline trip. He must have stood at six and a half feet, eyes black and deep set, fierce and fixed on her, intensity radiating out of them. He only appeared to be in his mid twenties, ten years younger than herself, black hair swept back off his face. His features were hard and angular but attractive. He wore black jeans and a black t-shirt despite the freezing weather, which didn’t appear to affect him while she felt it permeating her bones, melting the initial warmth of the mescaline.
Without a word he turned on his heel and stalked down the beach. Looking back over his shoulder he nodded for her to follow, which she did, her body feeling to move in slow motion. As his black boots crunched through the shingle they sent up a small puff of mud and pebbles every time he lifted his feet, which she found hypnotic.
They made their way in silence to the far end of the beach, which was equally stark, nothing but more shingle, twisted trees and that endless water which became agitated, the wind whipping up in response until Raven was physically shivering. Meanwhile the stranger continued to walk, untouched by the cold weather, even in his t-shirt.
“Where are we going?” she called to him, her voice echoing around her.
The man stopped and went rigid. He glanced at her over his shoulder, causing her to hesitate. He whipped round to face her, his expression so ferocious she took a step back. She watched as he raised one arm and pointed out to that hazy sea beyond which at first glance there was nothingness. A shape started to take form, so indistinct it was difficult to tell what it was until it grew and became more solid. It was a farmhouse and it was on fire. Raven had seen that house before, in Norway.
As she stared at the front door being eaten away by flames, there was an enormous bang on the other side, jolting it in its frame. There was a second bang followed by another then another until the door burst open and a massive figure raced out engulfed in flames, screaming…
The sea rose up and swallowed the scene, which vanished from view, the turbulent waters receding until they were still and calm once more.
The stranger approached her, that fierce gaze boring into her.
“I know you,” said Raven, a sense of familiarity welling up inside her.
He didn’t speak, although his eyes were heavy with knowing. They stared at each other, the wind becoming so strong she was almost knocked over while he remained immune.
An horrific noise shook her body and her eyes snapped open. Raven found herself back in the B&B, still sitting cross-legged on the floor. Damon had started up his horrendous snoring again, which had pulled her out of the meditation. She sighed with frustration, getting the feeling he’d prevented her from discovering something important. She glanced at the button for the electric cuff he wore, which sat on the bedside cabinet, tempted to use it just to get a bit of payback, then thought how unfair that would be. It would also lead to him sulking at her for the rest of the trip when they needed to work together, so she decided not to give her brother an electric shock.
The effects of the mescaline had already worn off, which was a first, it usually lasted for hours but then again, that had been no ordinary meditation, she’d never experienced visuals like that before. Her body felt cold, as though the chill of the sea still lay within her bones, even though the room was warm. She thought of the flames, that massive figure engulfed in fire and shivered. That confirmed it. Silas was indeed still alive. The only silver lining in that big scary dark cloud was that it wasn’t Kurt. That would have been so much worse.
She climbed into bed, curling up into a ball, grateful for the thick duvet. Exhausted, she drifted off immediately.
CHAPTER 9
One Eye spent the next day just relaxing and resting. He’d been left alone, purposefully hiding out in his room to avoid Frederick and his dreaded photos. He’d heard him knock and softly c
all through the door that morning but Nik had pretended to be asleep until he went away. He’d been brought his lunch by Cherie, who had patted his hair and shoulders just a little too much for his liking before eventually leaving him alone. One Eye liked the ladies but there was something false and desperate about her that repelled him. Thank goodness his room was en-suite, which meant he could remain hidden away. Now it was dinnertime, so he decided to leave his nest and hobble into the dining room. Cherie had had the foresight to give him the only bedroom on the ground floor.
Cherie greeted him with a giggle and a kiss on the cheek. Helen sat at a table by the window reading a magazine while tucking into her dinner rolled her eyes.
“I hope I’m not disturbing,” One Eye said to Helen, taking the table in the far corner, away from the windows. It was getting dark outside and he didn’t want to be illuminated for his nemesis to see.
“Course not,” she smiled. “Actually it’s nice having some company, other than that boring sod Frederick.”
“That’s not very nice dear,” frowned Cherie. “He’s a sweet man.”
“Then why do you always rush out of the room when he comes in?”
“Because I’m busy,” she said with one of her bright smiles before turning to One Eye. “Tonight we have smoked mackerel or Alan’s fabulous steak and sausage pie. Both are served with gratin dauphinois potatoes and peas.”
“The pie sounds wonderful, thank you. I’m ravenous.”
“You’re not the only one,” she said with a meaningful wink. “And what would you like to drink? Something hot or something cool and wet?”
“Oh God,” said Helen. “I’m going to throw up.”
“An orange juice will be fine thank you.”
“Wouldn’t you like something stronger?” said Cherie.
“Can’t. Painkillers.”
“Oh yes, of course.”
She bustled into the kitchen to deal with his order. As the door swung open he glimpsed Alan scampering about the kitchen, face pink with the heat from the cooker. One Eye had kept watch last night and had seen that figure return to the B&B two hours later, creeping up the path like a burglar. He couldn’t help but wonder what they’d been up to. If it had been Frederick it could be something as harmless as bat-watching or star-gazing but their demeanour had been guilt-ridden. Idly he wondered if it had been Alan meeting another woman. But how could he sneak out of the house without his wife noticing? There was only one explanation - they had separate rooms, it was clear their marriage wasn’t a happy one. He’d known plenty of people who stayed stuck in a loveless marriage because they were worried what the neighbours might think or sometimes for financial reasons. One Eye didn’t consider either enough to spend his life miserable. He’d been married once, many years ago to Freida, Damon’s mother but they’d divorced when Damon was seven as he’d been unable to stay faithful to one woman. He’d always been the same and it appeared he was never going to change. Freida had remained in Norway, where they were both from. Damon intermittently went over to visit her but they didn’t get on that well, their temperaments were too similar, leading to fiery clashes.
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