“Will you keep it together,” she hissed at him when passers-by turned to stare.
“Well I’ve had enough. We’ve been all over this Godforsaken island and nothing.”
“We will find him, there’s still plenty of places we haven’t checked.”
“No we won’t, we could be stumbling about here for months, chasing our own arses.”
“Stop thinking like that, course we will.”
“How many days head start has Silas had on us? For fuck’s sake, Dad might be dead by now.”
Damon knew he’d gone a step too far when Raven’s eyes turned to ice and she produced the control for the bracelet on his wrist from the depths of her coat. “You say that again and you’ll get the full force of this bastard.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought it.”
“I haven’t and I won’t let myself because he is alive. Now we’re going to grab some lunch then get back on the hunt and if you want to carry on having a paddy in the middle of the street then you can fuck off home and do it.”
He was saved from replying by his phone beeping in his pocket. His eyes widened. “It’s a message from Dad,” he exclaimed. “It says he’s in Glendale. He’s rented a cottage. He hurt his leg and he’s been lying low. He wants us to meet him there.”
Raven got on her phone to research that area. “Apparently it’s a community-owned estate,” she said. “From what I can make out, it’s a very small, rural community.”
“The perfect place for him to hide out.”
“What’s the address of the cottage?”
He read it out and Raven managed to find it online through the holiday letting agency. “It’s legit.”
“But you don’t trust it?”
“Why didn’t he call us so we’d hear his voice and know it’s him?”
“He says the signal’s really bad, which makes sense if it’s so rural.”
“I don’t like it. Silas could have got hold of his phone and sent that message to lure us somewhere quiet. Whoever has that phone knows we’re in the area because you sent a text message to that number.”
Damon was starting to regret that move. “So what do we do? Check this out or carry on with the search?”
“Send a message back asking him what my real name is. Only you, Aidan and One Eye know. If he answers correctly then we’ll know for sure that it’s him.”
“Okay,” he said, tapping out the message.
They waited five minutes but there was no reply.
“Does that mean whoever read the message doesn’t know or that they can’t get a signal and haven’t read the message?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she sighed. “But I don’t like it. We know Silas is a sneaky bastard and he hates our family. He might want to go after us too or maybe just send us on a wild goose chase.”
“So what do you think we should do?”
The mysterious man she’d seen during the mescaline trip popped into her head. In her mind he was gazing out at the hazy sea while his arm was pointing towards the land. “Stick to the plan. This feels like a distraction.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay, I trust your instincts. Let’s finish checking this place then move on.”
The atmosphere in The Old Inn - the only pub in Caillte - was warm and convivial, a blast of warm air from the open fire hitting One Eye when Alan held the door open for him so he could hobble inside on his crutches.
The entire pub went silent, everyone turning to look at him.
“Oh my God,” said the young barmaid. “It’s Odin.”
“Not the first time I’ve been called that,” said One Eye.
This comment, accompanied by a charming smile elicited a laugh and a cheer. He was offered a seat at the best table in the pub by the crackling fire, Alan, Cherie and Helen joining him.
“What would you like Nik?” the portly landlord called to him.
“A pint of bitter please,” he replied. “Errr…”
“The name’s Ronnie and we have the best bitter on the island.”
“I don’t doubt it Ronnie. Thank you.”
His pint was brought over to the table by the young barmaid, who hovered by his side as he took his first sip.
“Mmm, wonderful,” he said, making them all smile.
There must have been thirty people in the room at the most, the majority of the tiny village convened together. Arthur and Bess from the shop were present, as well as the two ladies from the library, along with Frederick. Nik was relieved to see he didn’t have his files of photographs with him.
“Have you remembered who you are yet?” said Arthur before taking a swig of lager.
“Oy, don’t be so rude,” chided Bess, slapping him on the arm, causing him to slop some of his drink down his shirt.
“I’m afraid not,” said One Eye. “Although PC Connell was kind enough to find my backpack for me.” It was then he noticed the young ferrety man himself sat in a corner, hand wrapped around a whisky glass.
“It seems our Wild Man has Scandinavian heritage,” said Connell, gaze fixed on him.
“I’ll bet your ancestors came marauding around here,” said Bess. “Pillaging and ravishing the women,” she added with a suggestive smile.
“It’s entirely possible,” said One Eye.
“Just as long as you don’t start doing the same,” said a burly, ruddy-faced man lounging arrogantly against the bar.
“It’s hard to pillage and ravish with only one good leg,” retorted One Eye, titters echoing around the room, the loudest laugh coming from Bess.
He noted the ruddy-faced man looked her way before throwing another glare at him. It seemed he was enamoured of her and was jealous. That could be amusing.
“Just as long as you don’t start trying,” said the ruddy-faced man. Feeling he’d made his point he drained his glass, slammed it down on the bar and demanded another. Not a pleasant individual.
“Oh shut up Duncan,” said Bess. “You are so uptight.”
The lovelorn Duncan watched Bess cross the room and pull up a chair beside One Eye, forcing Alan to move aside for her.
“Tell us a story,” she said.
“About what?” replied One Eye.
“I don’t know but you look like a natural storyteller. Go on,” she encouraged.
Her call was taken up by the others, apart from Connell and the increasingly put out Duncan.
“It’s the tradition here,” Helen told him. “Every newcomer has to tell an interesting tale.”
“And what if I fail to be interesting?” he whispered back. “Do they burn me in a wicker man?”
Helen sniggered. “Don’t worry. If they get the urge I’ll make sure to stop them.”
“Reassuring,” he smiled.
Helen’s boyfriend Simon entered the pub and pulled up a chair by her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. One Eye was amused when he looked at the patch over his eye and stifled a shudder. It was amazing how his missing eye made so many people uncomfortable.
“I do have one story,” began One Eye, taking another mouthful of the excellent bitter. “About a witch.”
Silence reigned as he spoke, describing the witch who was obsessed with gold. Her powers were so feared that she was stabbed with spears then thrown onto a fire, only for her to emerge unscathed from the flames. Three times she was burned and three times she was reborn, more powerful than ever.
As One Eye told his tale, Bess was satisfied by the knowledge that her hunch had been correct and he was a very gifted storyteller. At the end of his tale the sneeze of a mouse would have been audible, the room was so silent. The cawing of birds from outside made everyone jump, breaking the spell and they all burst into applause.
“That was fantastic,” said Bess, clutching onto his arm. “If a little unorthodox. People usually stick to stories about their lives.”
“I would have done however I can’t recall any,” he replied.
“Oh my gosh, I am such an idiot. How could I forget?” She cringed again. “Foot in mouth, that’s always been my way.”
He patted her hand, cheering her up immediately. “I have another story about a dragon that guarded cursed treasure.”
“You know some weird stories,” said Duncan.
“Perhaps my injured brain created them?” said One Eye pleasantly, which only put him even further into Duncan’s bad books.
As he spoke, One Eye noticed Connell’s gaze grow increasingly suspicious. By the time he reached the end of his story, to more cheers and applause, everyone in the room needed a top-up, so he was given some respite. Connell chose this opportunity to sidle over to him.
“Did you see Doctor Simpson?” he asked One Eye.
“I did and he said there’s nothing that can be done for my ankle or my memory but he’s confident it’ll return. He said if it hasn’t come back in a couple of days he wants to arrange a scan.” In all honesty Dr Simpson had been as doubtful about the veracity of his amnesia as Connell was. Fortunately it wasn’t something that could be proved.
“Let’s hope it does and soon. I’ve kept trying your home number. Still no answer.”
“Then it seems I’m all alone in the world.”
“Perhaps Nik. You could be the eternal wanderer, only returning home now and then. I’ve contacted your local police and you haven’t been reported missing.” He gave him one of his uncomfortable assessing stares. “That doesn’t seem to make you sad.”
“Why should it?” He gestured to the room. “I’m far from alone.”
“But what about family? A wife? Siblings? Children?” Connell smiled inwardly when Nik’s single eye involuntarily narrowed at the mention of the latter. It was enough, for now. “Good evening Nik. Enjoy the bitter,” he said before leaving.
“Just ignore him,” said Bess. “He’s always been a wee bit weird. Takes himself far too seriously. Anyway, enough about him,” she said, linking her arm through his. “Tell me about yourself.” She cringed. “Oh God, I did it again. I can’t believe it.”
“Never mind,” he said. “How about another glass of wine?”
“Sounds great,” she grinned. “I’ll get them in. You rest your leg,” she said, patting his knee before getting to her feet and rushing to the bar.
“Watch yourself there,” Helen told him. “She’s the local man eater. You’ll find yourself cast aside, picked clean.”
“You know, that sounds rather fun,” he smiled.
One Eye didn’t get his desired night with Bess. She drank far too much wine and had to be helped back to her flat above the shop by Helena and Roberta from the library. Instead of the warm bed with the warm woman he’d envisaged, he hobbled back to his cold lonely bed in the B&B with Alan, Frederick, Cherie and Helen. The latter had kissed her disappointed beau goodnight before leaving him at the pub.
As they made the chilly dark walk back the breeze picked up, making the trees shiver.
“Christ,” exclaimed a tipsy Alan when two black winged silhouettes took off into the air. “What is it with all the damned ravens lately? Is it you Nik, did you bring them with you?”
“Well Connell didn’t mention finding any in my bag.”
“That pompous arse,” said Cherie who wasn’t as drunk as Bess but who was well on her way. “He seems to think his tidy uniform gives him power over the rest of us.”
“You weren’t saying that when you thought someone had broken into the B&B and nicked the silver,” said Helen.
“Had they?” Nik asked her.
“No. Dad had taken it into the garage to polish. He doesn’t like doing it in the B&B because the polish stinks.”
“And did Connell find it?” said Cherie. “Course not. He was too busy assembling suspects in the pub to interview. He made a proper fool of himself that day I can tell you.” Cherie’s high heel tripped over a pebble and she grabbed onto One Eye to prevent herself from falling. It was only his considerable upper body strength that kept them both upright.
“My,” she smiled, squeezing his bicep. “What big muscles you have.”
“Come on dear,” said Alan, taking her by the elbow and steering her away. “Let’s get you home before you have him running for the hills.”
“You cheeky bastard Alan,” she slurred back.
“Oh great, here they go again,” sighed Helen as the warring couple went on ahead of them, still bickering. “Hopefully Dad will be able to placate her with brandy when we get in. What is it?” she said when One Eye hesitated before the same copse of trees that had made him uneasy earlier that day.
“I thought I heard something,” he replied, attempting to make out one large, hulking shadow from all the flickering shadows racing through the trees but he was unable to. Surely Silas couldn’t be in there? He wouldn’t put anything past that diabolical bastard.
“Nik?” said Helen.
“Do you have bears up here?” he said.
“No. You’re freaking me out now,” she added when he continued to stare into the dark depths of the trees. “When I was a kid I used to have nightmares about werewolves hiding in those trees.”
“Sorry,” he replied, continuing on his way. “I think the dark and wind is a little eerie after the warmth of the pub.”
“I don’t think you’re the type to get spooked over nothing,” she replied, looking nervously over her shoulder.
“We all have our weaknesses,” he said, resisting the urge to look back. He might not be able to see anyone but he could feel a hot, ferocious gaze burning into his back.
CHAPTER 12
“Oh come on Raven,” barked Damon. “You can take the sodding thing off now, we’ve got separate rooms.”
After scouring Portree and getting nowhere they were spending the night in the town before moving on. Both were tired and growing increasingly cranky.
“It stays on until we get home,” she retorted, throwing her bag onto the bed in her room.
“I look a right dick going around with a bracelet on,” he said, shaking his arm.
“Then hide it under your jumper.”
“It won’t go under my jumper, it’s too big.”
“You’ve got two choices,” she said, producing the control for the bracelet from her pocket. “Keep it on and shut up or keep banging on about it and get shocked.”
His lips pursed, face growing increasingly puce before spitting back, “Fucking fine. I’ll keep it on then.”
“Good,” she retorted as he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. “Jesus, we sound like a couple of squabbling kids,” she sighed.
Damon’s tantrum already forgotten, she sank onto the bed, wondering whether they did the right thing ignoring that text message supposedly from One Eye. They still hadn’t had a reply to the question about her real name, she hadn’t been christened Raven. She’d adopted that name when One Eye had taken her in, he and Damon becoming the family she’d always wanted. She also felt a bit guilty about her row with her brother but she lacked the energy to smooth things over. Besides, it was always best to let him cool off first.
She scrambled for her phone when it rang. It wasn’t One Eye but she wasn’t disappointed by the caller. “Aidan,” she beamed.
“My little bird,” he said. “God I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” she replied, just the sound of his voice making her ache inside.
“You at the barn?”
“No, I’m on the Isle of Skye.”
“A contract?”
“Nope. One Eye’s gone missing and me and Damon have tracked him to the island.”
“Missing?”
She explained the situation and their subsequent search.
“Jesus,” he exploded when she’d finished. “You really think Silas is behind this?”
“We do. In fact, there’s no doubt anymore.”
“Right, that’s it. I’m coming over.”
Raven was torn by this statement. Naturally she couldn’t
wait to see him again and his skills would be very handy when confronting Silas. On the flip side, bringing Aidan into an already volatile mix could cause the situation to explode. “Where are you?”
“Bosnia.”
Raven didn’t flinch. She would have been more surprised had he said somewhere with a reputation for tranquility. “By the time you get here we could have found him. We’ve already searched most of the island, there’s not many places left to check.”
“Sounds like you don’t want me there.”
“Of course I do but I don’t want you to have a wasted journey.”
“If I get to see you it won’t be a wasted journey.”
Raven’s heart melted. “Okay Aidan. Let me know when you’re setting off.”
There was the click of keys on the other end. “I’ve just booked the next available flight out. It leaves in fourteen hours and lands at Aberdeen. I’ll contact you when I’ve landed. Love you. Bye.”
Before she could say another word he’d hung up, probably so she couldn’t talk him out of it, not that she would, she wanted him here. She wouldn’t tell Damon just yet about Aidan’s imminent arrival. He was in a bad enough mood as it was.
Icy fingers grasped One Eye’s leg and he jumped awake, reaching for the small knife he kept tucked under his pillow. Fortunately for Cherie he realised it was her before he pressed the blade to her throat. She was laid on the bed beside him.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“What I’ve wanted to do since the moment I saw you,” she slurred, pressing herself against him. She wore just a thin satin nightgown. Any excitement this fact might have engendered in him was eradicated by the pain that shot through his leg when she accidentally kicked his injured ankle.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” she squeaked. “Did that hurt?”
“Just a bit,” he grimaced, waiting for the agony and nausea to subside.
“Why don’t you let me make it up to you?” she said, attempting to kiss him.
He took her by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “Your husband’s just upstairs.”
“So what? He never bothers to touch me, so he can’t object when someone else does.”
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