“It’s a cruise, dear,” Myrtle said. “With all of your research about the Highlands, and the Vikings, I’m surprised you haven’t planned a special day trip on land.” Gran pulled back her black lace veil, which completed her depression era mourning ensemble. Her bobbed black hair framed her heart-shaped face and ruby red lips. She tugged at her black gloves as if they were beginning to slip down, and plopped down into a seat. “Oh my, woe is me,” she groaned, and placed her hand across her face as she leaned back in the chair, then gave a loud sigh. “Who is going to take care of the apartment once you’re gone?”
“You’re such a ham,” I snickered. “Mom had seven children. If I’m not here, one of the boys can stop by the apartment.”
“The apartment that must stay in the family,” she quipped. I watched her peek out from beneath her arm. “And I know my dear daughter birthed a little bit more than half of a football team, but you are special.”
“You can open your eyes now.” I crossed my arms, as if I were the mother and she the child. “If I didn’t have to go, then I wouldn’t.”
“I can feel it from the ether. Something bad will happen if you go. Do you have all of your vials with you?”
I shook my head. “That was all research.”
“You dug up black henbane for the gods’ sake. You can’t tell me that was only research.”
“I also burned a little of it, and dreamt of dragons, so we know that’s all it was.”
“The gods were trying to give you a sign,” Gran urged. Of course, since she was a ghost and I wasn’t, it wasn’t like I could argue about what the gods had in store for me, or what happened after that final breath on this side.
“No, dragons don’t exist,” I continued. “Magic doesn’t exist, and the supernatural world that I’m aware of is only in my fiction—present company excluded. The dragon had to be from something I was watching. That’s it. Let’s just change the topic.”
Gran wagged her petite finger, the one that held one of the largest baubles I’d ever seen. It was true, though; what you were buried in is what you haunt in too. “You don’t have to get testy about it. The ritual was still a ritual, and it opened you up. I’ve been telling you for a long time that you are a seer.”
“Just because I see you, doesn’t make me anything special. There are more important things to deal with than this supernatural mumbo jumbo, like this cruise. If I don’t go, we won’t be able to live in this subsidized apartment in the middle of Manhattan—a deluxe luxury that no one understands how I’m able to afford.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried not to scream. When Gran got it into her head that something should be done, nothing less than an exorcism was going to get her to change her mind.
“You should cast the runes. They will agree with me.” My great grandmother had a way of being overdramatic.
And it wasn’t because she was dead, a ghost, and I could still see her.
I wiped away the imaginary sweat on my brow. “Gran.”
“Stop. I hate when you call me that.” She fingered her black pearls.
“Okay, Myrtle.”
“Enunciate it dear. It’s like that beautiful beach. You’re butchering my name today.” She pushed herself out of the chair, fluffed her flapper hair, and retrieved a cigarette out of thin air. I wasn’t sure how she still held on to her cigarette holder, and all of the charms from then, but things had a way of appearing—like she had an invisible ghostly vault.
“Well, if you go, then I am going too.” A nice trunk materialized and she sat down delicately on it.
“You can’t just leave this place.”
“I can with this.” She held out her hand and therein rested a lovely gold and onyx Art Deco mourning ring. “Check in the back of the safe and you will find it there. Your mother was always one to break tradition.”
When chaos ensued, that meant that Gran always had a plan. I could almost swear that her need to make sure her family was okay was why she refused to cross over. She’d been a young mother, and watched everyone grow up under this roof, and participated as much as she could.
Of course, it helped that the females of the family had an opened third eye and could see her. As a kid, it made for interesting play dates.
I opened the safe and reached in the back. And just like she’d said, a ring was indeed there. I pulled it out and paused. Gorgeous didn’t begin to describe it. A deep purple amethyst rested in its center, surrounded by seeded pearls and diamonds. It bore the inscription: Myrtle Davidson who died June 28th, age 23.
“You should really stay here.”
“Nonsense, and miss the chance to see the old country that my mother always told me about? She’d left behind poverty and persecution for hope of a better life here. She just didn’t know—
“She’d have to head to Ellis Island to find her happy ever after.” I finished in unison. “You know that was the basis for my first novel.”
“Yes, if you throw in a shifter or two.”
“If I’d tried to tell the story that my grandmother, twice removed, ran away from Scotland because of a dragon, I would have been laughed out of Maurice’s office.”
“Sure, but you also would have told the story of your heart. You’ve been laughed out of there now, haven’t you, dear? And you are no closer to being happy with what you write. Stories comes from passion—like delicious food. Our history is so rich, reaching all the way back to King James Court. Now, that is a story you must tell—that of the trumpeter’s daughter.”
I shook my head. Ever since I could remember, Gran had been telling me stories of dragons, and royalty, and how her family had received precious gifts from the king himself.
“I tell you, Scotland is magical.”
“Well, I don’t plan on really making land. It’s a cruise around the British Isles and up to Iceland. All I can hope for is that I don’t freeze.” With that in mind, I plopped another sweater into my suitcase, and clicked it closed.
“No matter. Put the ring on, and let’s go. A grand adventure awaits us, and surely, you aren’t going to leave me here to be ignored by the others?”
“The others being my brothers who can’t see you?”
“The others also being those henpecking spinsters who refuse to walk in the light. I told you that old Mrs. Goldstein still refuses to leave until her great-grandson fulfills his promise—a promise of a five-year-old has little meaning. I told her, but she won’t listen. No. She remains, haunting that apartment until he becomes the next pop star. As if scaring the poor child to make him practice his music isn’t futile.”
“Didn’t you try that on Dad?”
“Yes, but that was to shut him up. He sounded worse than a cat in heat. And according to your mother, she’d made sure he’d been fixed.” Her eyes crinkled from laughter. “See dear, some things are meant to be.”
I could only smirk. Gran wanted an adventure and I wanted a paycheck. Plus, what harm could there be in taking an extra passenger with me?
“Before we go, let’s try the henbane again. I think it will clear your vision,” Gran suggested.
“You’re just trying to kill me. Too much of that stuff is deadly. The next thing I know, you’re going to suggest that I drink mistletoe tea, and yes, that’s toxic too.”
“Well, love, I do have a fondness of death. But if you die, how will we ever take the cruise together?”
I rolled my eyes. I eased the ring onto my left middle finger. It was a perfect fit.
“Come, let us begin before I have to get to the port.” Gran clapped her hands in glee. “Might as well turn the chanting music on to get an authentic experience.”
“This is going to be the best thing. You won’t regret it!”
4
Alistair
Alistair pulled on a dry dress shirt over his wet body. For the past five days, he’d been jumping aboard cruise ships in hopes of allowing the magic to lead him to the seer.
“Blimey, nothing,” he swore, an
d buttoned up his shirt.
But the queen’s orders were to be followed, as she was over the Order of the Dragon—the top spot—and everyone had to defer to her judgment, even him being the leader of the Scottish branch.
Loud classical music echoed in the chamber, where only a torch’s light shone. He moved to the chamber’s center and in the soft dirt with his dragon claw, instead of his human hand, he leaned down and created the holy sigil.
And therein sprouted a Valkyrie before him, Kara, one of Odin’s strongest female warriors. Her silver armor reflected the tiniest of lights, and her raven black hair cascaded over her shoulders. A thin golden tiara rested on her head with Odin’s insignia engraved on it. “I’m sorry, dear Alistair, but her Lordship cannot be reached now. She asked if it is urgent that I come in her stead.”
“I’ve yet to find the seer,” Alistair huffed.
“Do you, oh mighty dragon, seek help in doing as ordered?” He could hear the contempt in her words.
Instead of answering, he cast her a charming smile. “Surely love, you have more that you can help me with than just words.”
“The last time I helped you, I ended up in the equivalent of a time out. You were considered a distraction.”
“And still when I call, you answer.”
Her frown faltered.
“We can never be together, Al, and your charm will not do anything but cause me to remove my sword from its sheath and see if your innards are more human or beast. I will not betray my king, or oath.”
Alistair raised his hands in mock surrender. “I would never ask you to do such. Instead, I ask for your help, assistance that the King and Queen need not know about.”
“I cannot wield magic,” she said. “But there is a plant that can help you: bog myrtle.”
“What the bezerkers use?”
“Yes, for you, it should allow you to see that which is not seen by the eye. Your blood has magic in it. You are not just a wielder of it.”
“That is stating the obvious.”
She reached into a pouch that hung from her belt, and passed it to him. “Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.”
“And this will help me find the lass? So, I can then stop chasing cruise ships like a bloody dolphin?”
“I’d say more like a shark, but you get the picture.” She chuckled. “Got to love what the queen has you do.”
Alistair palmed the bag.
“You will also need to ingest just a small amount,” Kara said.
“What happens if I should ingest too much?”
“I’ve never seen one of your kind take this, so I can’t say. I’m not a healer or herb witch.”
He reached into the pouch, pulled out a good pinch and put it on his tongue.
“There’s no tarragon in this, right?”
The herb danced on his tongue until his mouth numbed, and spread slowly throughout his body.
For the briefest of moments, the classical music that had been playing shifted, and he heard chanting music. He closed his eyes and stood in an apartment from the looks of it. Outside her window, he heard loud vehicular noises, as her window was slightly ajar. A woman with unruly, reddish-brown curly hair, with smooth brown skin, sat on a sigil, palms up; her words melting with the ancient chant of Kvasir, the god of poetry. Her face he could not see, but the comforting scent of lavender enveloped him. “Mine,” the beast within him roared. A sound he was not only unfamiliar with, but also didn’t quite recognize. In all of his years, that had never happened.
He further scrutinized the apartment, until his gaze fell upon a stack of luggage nearby, and on top of that, a cruise ship ticket.
“Eureka!” he practically screamed.
Just as soon as a vision of the woman’s face began to appear, she disappeared again.
Alistair opened his eyes.
“Well, at least that’s a start,” he said and nodded his head. Now he knew exactly who he was looking for and where to find her.
5
Leslie
When I’d agreed a cruise to Scotland would be great to re-spark my career, I’d somehow forgotten that whole seasickness thing. Instead of dancing in the dancehall, eating at the buffet, or even playing shuffleboard, I’d succumbed to bouts of unease. With each sway of the ship, my stomach flip-flopped and thought to lurch.
Although Gran decided to travel with me, she seemed to have taken an interest in all of the other people on the ship. I’d never heard her rousing chuckle reverberate so loudly throughout the halls.
Twilight, with the sky painted in beautiful blues and purple, the sun waved goodbye, and music played from the live band on the deck above.
I leaned over the deck rail of the cruise ship, watching the waves slap against its side. The salty sea air did nothing to ease my plight. My stomach lurched, and I thought I’d swallowed a bit of my vomit.
“Don’t keep me waiting,” Claudine said with a slight giggle. She wiggled her fingers in a slight ta-ta, and practically lost a hip, pushing it to the side to accentuate her curvy figure.
“Did you hear that?” Claudine asked, moving to my side. “He’s going to take me dancing.”
I tried to smile at that. She’d been trying to set up a meet-cute with Donovan for months, and I’d given her the greatest of excuses—a themed cruise with authors, readers, and photographers with their cover models.
Donovan looked great in leather. He looked great in cotton. And from his overs, he even looked amazing in Scottish kilts. I’d booked him often enough to grace my book covers to know all of his smoldering looks, even his bedroom eyed gaze. And I’d seen him work his magic on an assistant or two.
Claudine was not my assistant, just my older sister.
I wiped my mouth with a hanky, and pushed away from the ship’s rail.
“You do know that he’s a romance cover model, right?”
“Yes,” she sighed.
“You do know that he’s most likely meeting a lot of women on this trip?” I arched my brow.
“What’s that supposed to mean? As long as he likes a little sport afterwards, that’s fine.”
“It might just all be a game.”
“Well,” she stuck out her ample chest, and pulled her halter top higher as if gearing up for the challenge. “I’ll just have to play for keeps. You might know about fictional love, but I know about men.”
“As long as you don’t leave this one tied to my bed in my room, we’ll be fine.”
“Leslie, it’s all just for research. How are you ever going to describe a real adventure without living it?”
“That doesn’t mean my jumping on the popular trend of whips, chains and ball gags.”
“Don’t forget the anal beads.”
I wrinkled my nose. But that was Claudine, always thinking about ass.
6
Alistair
“You called for me?” Lloyd trudged forward. His graying hair thinning, and his back a little hunched. Blue overalls sloppily rested on him, and his too-big-for-him Wellies thudded against the floor with every step.
“Yes, dear man. How goes everything down at the farm? We haven't had time to catch up as to the caretaking of the property.”
Lloyd had been with him for years, way before the old man began to hunch over. He'd known Lloyd from his youth, and watched him grow older, and hopefully wiser.
“Things are okay, sir. This year's harvest is set to occur on time.”
“Harvest?”
“Yes, the cattle have to be culled.”
Alistair grimaced. That was not what he wanted to discuss this morning. Culling wasn't the thing he wished to be reminded of. Life was confounded and complicated by death.
“And the tenants?” Alistair asked. “Are they well cared for?”
“As well as tenants can be. Of course, you need to invest some monies to patch up those cottages bordering the property, as well as the fencing.” Alistair stared at Lloyd. In all of his years, he'd been an honest steward, yet the m
ore they conversed, the more he questioned.
“Didn't we just invest a few thousand pounds to repair them?”
“Yes, sir, but the most recent storm came through and caused a good amount of destruction. If you'd like, I can take you to see them tomorrow—”
“No, no,” Alistair interrupted him. “I completely understand how difficult it must be to have to show the progress to me by night. Instead, we shall come up with a plan.”
“A plan, sir?”
“Yes, it will be helpful to make sure that everything is tended to in a timely and efficient manner.”
Lloyd stared down at the floor. “Sir, I've served your family for a good number of years, as did my family before me, and we've never done anything that might cause your lordship harm.”
“You mustn't fret.” A mischievous smile crossed his face. “But see, I can feel when things are a little off, and since you are speaking about money, I can only believe it has to do with that, or is it something else?”
Lloyd gulped. “It is something else, my lord. I was in the village today, and I heard the whispers again.”
“Whispers?”
“They say that the beast was seen again, swimming in the loch. The beast that not only eats our sheep whole, but has also killed our women.”
Alistair frowned.
“And there is evidence that this beast is responsible?”
“Yes sir, it eats the sheep whole and then spits out the bones, leaving them for us to discover. It happens once a month and concurs with the sightings.”
Alistair knew that Killian, during his raids, steered clear of populated places, and stayed on the protected and sacred grounds. Folklore had a way of ever expanding around these parts.
“Do you think we have something to fear?” Alistair stood from his chair, placed his hands behind his back, and began to pace.
“My father once told me about the beast, who we've called Nessie, and how he once saw it too—looked him in the eye and thought to eat him, but he was able to fight it off with his paddle. What if this Nessie has returned and is again trying to eat the villagers? Could that explain what is happening to these women too?”
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