by Roz Marshall
Weathering the Storm
Secrets in the Snow, Episode 6
Roz Marshall
Eden Press
Contents
About this book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
An extract from The Snow Patrol
A Note from the Author
Other books in the series
About the Author
Glossary
Characters
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2015 Roz Marshall
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.You must not circulate this book in any format.
The characters, places and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Created in the United Kingdom.
First published 2015.
This edition 2017.
Cover by Alba Covers
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at www.rozmarshall.co.uk
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About this book
Is there such a thing as a cool geek? If so, Spock must be one. As a snowboard instructor for White Cairns Ski School, he definitely looks the part. But even geeks need love, and Spock's heart has been captured by a warrior princess he's met online.
As the ski season in Scotland nears its end, Spock's plans to meet with EvenStar are thwarted by unsavoury characters and unlucky circumstances. He'll need to be as bold and brave as his chivalrous internet persona and use all of his ingenuity and talent to win the day — and win the woman of his dreams.
Chapter 1
Monday 6th March 2006
THE BLADE CAME out of nowhere; a heavy double-edged broadsword with a blazing jewel decorating its hilt.
Spock sprung to the side, raising his shield to catch the double-handed blow. With the other hand, he swung his longsword in a vicious slice aimed at the gorgon's massive thigh. Hit!
The monster roared as its sword came arcing back towards Spock, travelling more slowly now that it was losing blood — and energy — from the wound.
Without conscious thought, Spock jumped into the air to avoid the blade and used his momentum to kick the monster, knocking it off-balance.
He spun as he landed but was distracted by some yellow text at the bottom of his screen.
'Hey, Lance, you online?'
Reflexively, he slashed with his sword at the place he'd last seen the gorgon, but he was too slow.
Bellowing its defiance, the gorgon swung its weapon in a massive arc, connecting with Spock's shield and knocking him off his feet. Puffs of purple dust rose around him as he landed on the ground, wincing involuntarily as the monster's sword dove downwards towards his chest.
Defeat.
Lose: 10 experience points, 20 energy.
Return home or retry quest?
With a sigh, he clicked the 'home' button, and immediately his screen changed; the purple-tinged plain with the victorious monster was replaced by blackness and a spinning icon.
Moments later, his character appeared in the great hall of the castle he'd chosen as home. In the centre of the room was a large, round table surrounded by rough-hewn oak chairs. Tapestries hung on the walls and an eternal fire crackled in the oversized fireplace. His avatar was the only occupant.
He clicked on the yellow text to reply to EvenStar. 'Yep. Lost to that gorgon again :('
'Level 60?'
'Yep'
'That one's brutal.'
'Do you remember how you beat him?'
There was a pause. 'Injure it twice, then a damage spell IIRC.'
'K.'
'Hurry up and get to level 61 so we can meet up again.'
'Yep.' That was one of the features of the game that Spock didn't like. Players could only meet — virtually, of course — other players at the same level. It stopped more-experienced players picking on newbies, but it also constrained your choices for socialising.
In their first days in the game, Spock and EvenStar had met a couple of times, and he'd enjoyed talking to her. Or, rather, messaging her. But since then, different schedules had kept them apart, and he'd lost playing time when he moved to Scotland to work for the ski school. In the meantime, EvenStar had quickly moved up the rankings and left Spock playing catch-up ever since.
'Messaging just isn't the same, is it?'
'Nope.' For some strange reason it felt more realistic when their characters were in the same place, at the same time, even if their avatars were just 3D virtual representations of their real selves.
Spock looked down at his body in its Star Wars t-shirt and pinstripe pyjama bottoms, then back at his Lancelot character on the screen. Maybe a 3D representation of the man I'd like to be. His real self was more of a clumsy geek than a brave and fearless warrior. So much so that when Callum had given him the moniker 'Spock' in their first days in the ski school, the nickname had stuck. He actually quite liked it now — it made him feel a part of the banter and camaraderie when the instructors got together.
He pecked, one-fingered, at his keyboard. 'You back online tomorrow?'
'Yeah. Same time, same place. You?'
'Yep. That gorgon is toast. I'll get him next time.'
'So I'll speak to you tomorrow. Looking forward to it.'
'Yep.' Finally she was almost within reach; finally they would be able to see each other — or each other's avatars — once again. He just had the small matter of a gorgon to defeat first.
Flipping the laptop shut, he turned out the light. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would see her again; he was convinced of that. He wriggled under the bedcovers and fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Chapter 2
Tuesday 7th March
SPOCK SURVEYED THE run, his eyes traversing the lumpy snow, looking for hidden dangers or interesting landscape features that he could use in his lesson. Turning back to his class, he caught a glimpse of a ski pole jabbing into a skinny boy's midriff, but it was quickly retracted and the perpetrator assumed an air of innocence, staring off into the distance.
Behind his goggles, Spock narrowed his eyes, noting the jacket and hair colour of the two combatants. He hadn't had time to learn the names of all of his class yet, but those two would be next on his list.
"Dudes," he addressed the group of boys. "Down here the terrain is really gnarly. Use the terrain. Use the slope. Use your brain." He pushed backwards away from the group. "One at a time. Wait till I stop."
Spinning his skis underfoot till they pointed down the hill, he zoomed off down the slope, using each hump or bump in the s
now as an opportunity to jump or turn or gain momentum, finally skidding to a halt about half-way down. He waved his beanie hat in the air to signal the class to start their descent.
As the first boy started his run, something caused him to stumble forwards, and he nearly fell over. Spock narrowed his eyes again, suspecting foul play. It was that same light blue jacket.
When the boy reached him, he asked, "Someone trip you?"
The boy's head jerked upwards, and he stuttered, "N—no."
Spock leaned on his ski poles and looked across at the boy. "What's your name?"
"H—Harry."
"And what's the boy's name who tripped you?"
Harry's head jerked upwards again, but his mouth remained closed as he glanced back up the slope towards the rest of the group.
Spock softened his voice. "Dude, I won't tell."
The whites of Harry's eyes were visible as he looked sideways at Spock. "William."
"He picks on you?"
There was no answer. But no denial either.
The arrival of the next boy stopped Spock asking any more questions, so when the class reached the bottom of the run, he directed them onto the Highlander chairlift and shuffled himself alongside Harry so that they could ascend together.
Once they were settled into the hard seats of the chairlift, he turned to the boy. "William — he's in the same class as you at school?"
Harry nodded and buried his chin in his scarf. Light blue, like his jacket, Spock noted, remembering the feeling of trying to make himself small and invisible.
"Does he pick on you at school too? Or just skiing?"
The boy pulled his scarf tighter around his face, giving the faintest of nods.
Spock turned his shoulders, so he was facing slightly towards Harry, and cleared his throat. "Dude, I got bullied at school too."
Eyes swivelled towards him.
With a forefinger, Spock pushed at his goggles so they sat better on the bridge of his nose. "They called me Simple Simon. Do they have a nickname for you?"
The voice was muffled by the scarf. "Prince Harry."
Spock let out a laugh. "William has the cheek to call you Prince Harry? Doesn't anyone call him Prince William?"
There was an imperceptible shake of his head.
Spock took a deep breath. "I was good at maths and science at school. So they bullied me."
It was like a dam had broken. "That's what happens to me. It's like, just because I do my homework, and know the answers in class, they have to pick on me." Harry rubbed his nose. "I wish they'd stop."
"Dude, they pick on you because you're different. They think they're being different, with their designer clothes and their trendy haircuts, but really they're just following the crowd. Nobody's that unique."
"So if, like, if I make myself just like them, will they stop?"
Spock shrugged. "Try not to let it bother you, dude. One day, you'll be the one earning enough money in the summer to let you ski all winter, and they'll be stuck stacking shelves in a supermarket somewhere, dreaming of a week's holiday in Spain." He raised his eyebrows at the boy. "Which would you rather be?"
Unusually, Spock had a lunchtime private lesson to teach. It was unusual because the senior instructor normally did the privates. He wasn't sure what was going on there. No doubt some drama or other that he didn't understand.
The girl riding up the chairlift beside him was one of a group of four from London. Anna. She had dark hair, a lovely voice and a pretty face. And she seemed to like him.
"Um, what made you— you guys come skiing?" He wasn't good at making small talk, he knew that, but he was curious about what had brought fellow Londoners all the way to Scotland rather than making a quick trip over to France — which was just as close and usually had better weather.
"Oh, skiing is just a bonus, darling. We're judging the talent contest on Saturday. Making a week of it." Her mouth crinkled at the corners. "Are you taking part?"
Spock laughed. "Dude, I can't sing."
"But you don't need to be a singer. What are you good at?"
"Snowboarding. Computers. Maths."
"Oh." Her face fell. "How about some magic tricks? Or jokes?"
Jokes? Jokes were Callum's forte, not his. He shook his head. "Not me."
She shrugged. "Well, there's decent prizes for the winners. And it would be good to see you there."
He smiled back at her. She's nice. Maybe he'd try to get along.
Chapter 3
SPOCK HELD HIS breath.
The huge bird of prey landed at the top of the charred remains of a lightning-ravaged tree in the clearing ahead of him, hooded eyes darting suspiciously from side to side. Around it, huge scots pine trees grew like towering monoliths from the thickets of silver birch, heather and fern that carpeted the floor of the ancient Caledonian forest.
Carefully, ever-so-slowly, Spock pulled the camera from his shoulder and raised the viewfinder to his face. For a moment he couldn't see the bird through the lens, and his heart leaped into his throat as he hurriedly twisted the focus ring. But once he'd found the correct tree the bird appeared in sharp relief, dark plumage on its back contrasting starkly with the snowy-white feathers on its chest and neck. An osprey. His first osprey. He suppressed a smile. One more to add to the spreadsheet. A male, if he wasn't mistaken. I wonder does he have a mate?
Framing the bird in his viewfinder, he breathed out to minimise vibration then squeezed the shutter release, hoping that he'd set the aperture and speed correctly.
The bird's head cocked, as if it had heard the tiny noise the camera's lens shutter made. Quickly, Spock took another shot, and this time the bird hopped onto a higher branch and flew off, huge wings spreading as it caught unseen currents in the Scottish forest, rising above the trees and flying off into the distance.
Spock watched it go, camera hanging limply by his side, marvelling at the grace and power of the raptor as it soared high into the grey, cloudy sky.
Once the bird had flown out of sight, he looked down at the camera in his hand with a sigh, and pressed the menu button to review the couple of shots he'd got. Not bad. He'd need to get a sound-proof enclosure for the Canon, though, if he didn't want to scare the bird again — assuming it ever came back.
If his memory served him correctly, he'd seen an enclosure in last month's 'Camera' magazine. It hadn't been cheap, but it would be a good investment for his bird photography, wouldn't it? He nodded to himself. Yep. I'll order one tonight.
With a last hopeful scan of the darkening skies above him, Spock turned and made his way through the undergrowth back to the path to the village.
Saturday 11th March
Why had she never visited Scotland before? Kaitlyn gazed out of the passenger window at the craggy mountains and heather-covered slopes that flashed by as they zoomed up the main road into the Highlands. It's beautiful here. No, not beautiful; too rugged for that. Awe-inspiring? Breath-taking? Majestic? All of the above.
Last night's stopping-off point, Stirling, had been interesting — the floodlit castle was stunning and the town was quaint. But the Highlands were inspirational.
Suddenly, two days didn't seem nearly enough. Although — she glanced at Ethan — maybe she'd been too quick to agree to a weekend away with someone she'd only known for a fortnight or so. But visiting the north of Scotland was on her bucket list, and so was learning to ski, so she hadn't been able say no.
"That's the turning," her boyfriend said and flicked the indicator. "Be there in a bit."
The Cairns 1m. White Cairns 5m. Ski Area 9m. "We staying up the mountain?"
"Nah, hotel in the town. Let's get us checked in, then we'll get skiing."
An hour later they sat at a pine table in the ski area cafe, grabbing a quick lunch before their afternoon of snow sports. "Tomorrow, how 'bout mountain biking?" Ethan said, his mouth half-full of chicken sandwich. "Or white-water rafting?"
Sounds baltic. "Mmm." She made a non-committal noise and picked
up a leaflet someone had left at the end of the table. "Get this. Talent show on at the hotel tonight. Might be a laugh?"
"Giz a look?" He held out his hand and she passed it over. "Talent Show? Erm, it's not me— oh, happy hour." He shrugged. "If the ale's cheap, I'm in." He shovelled the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and checked his watch. "Nearly one o'clock. Best get over for our lesson."
Waiting outside the ski school hut as instructed, Kaitlyn partook in one of her favourite hobbies — people-watching. Everyone wore such bright colours that even on a grey day, like today, it looked a really cheerful place. She looked sideways at Ethan. There are lots of fit blokes here, too. Ethan was nice-looking, but he had a desk job, and it showed.
The door of the hut opened, and she looked up expectantly. A tall instructor came out, wearing the red and blue uniform of the ski school and a grey beanie. For a moment, she hoped he might be their instructor, until she noticed he was carrying a snowboard. Shame. He looked cute, in a geeky kind of way.
A moment later, a dark-haired female instructor tramped down the steps carrying a pair of skis. "Lawrenson?" she asked.
Ethan nodded.
She smiled at them. "I'm Fiona, and I'll be teaching you this afternoon. Is this your first time skiing?"
Chapter 4
Saturday 11th March
MIKE TURNED ON his heel and strode away from the bar wishing he'd never agreed to come to the Talent Show. That guy's a slime-ball. Not only was Allan trying to bribe Mike to keep quiet about what he'd seen in New Zealand — offering to let him keep his job at the ski school — he was so arrogant he thought Jude would forgive his infidelity anyway.
Would she? As the first act walked onto the stage, Mike glanced at Jude's open face and ready smile. Maybe. She had pretty traditional views on loyalty and marriage. It was one of the things he liked about her; it reminded him of folks in the village back home in New Zealand.
