Witches of Skye : Reap what You Sow (Book Two) Paranormal Fantasy

by M. L. Briers

“And what if you can’t forget?” Jack asked with a flick of his eyes toward one of the many tourists that were in the bistro; this one was approaching the counter.

  “Then chalk it up to unexplained and move on.” I watched him consider my words as I moved along the counter to deal with the man.

  Thankfully, this guy was an American, so I didn’t need to play charades, but he was loud, proud, and eager to see everything on the island as quickly as possible. That in itself was an impossibility. It might have been a small island, but it took more than a day or two to see every major site, and another few to really get a feel for the place.

  “Two more of your special coffees and two slices of that great apple pie,” he said, turning a look at Jack and offering a friendly nod. “Great pie, tastes like a slice of home.” He said to Jack.

  “Aye, I’d say there’s magic baked into that crust,” Jack offered back, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. If he only knew.

  “Sure bummed to have missed the haggis hunt,” the stocky man said.

  I almost rolled my eyes back into my head. A lot of tourists came to Scotland because it was on their bucket list. You would have thought they would have read up on it before traveling all that way, but no — and the locals liked to take advantage of that fact.

  “Aye, those little beasties can be quick on their feet.” Jack got into the swing of things, and I sighed inwardly.

  “One of your countrymen, big guy, built like an outhouse, showed me a picture of one of those mean looking critters on the Internet.” He scratched at a few bites dotted on his arm. “I sure would like to have bagged me one of those.”

  There were times when I really — really — wanted to head-butt the counter. Now, it wasn’t mean, it was just playful, but some of my fellow countrymen, especially after a few drinks, decided to wax lyrical, as only a Scotsman could, and weave some stories around the fabled haggis beast.

  The animal in question usually had sharp and pointy teeth, three toes with razor-sharp claws, and was a mean one. Unless that was, you caught him in the glare of your torchlight; then he would panic, and freeze in place before running left to right — right to left — where you could get a shot off right between the eyeballs.

  I’d lost count of the number of tourists that nervously asked about the vicious haggis beast that would descend upon them en masse if they stumbled across a nest of them in the wild, and tear them to shreds. You’d think that would be reported as worldwide news somewhere? But, no.

  If only they knew the real monsters that walked the land. But, those stories of old that had been written about vampires and werewolves were firmly buried in myth and legend and hardly spoken about. Smart werewolves and vampires throwing people off the scent like that, boy, must they hate Twilight.

  “They’re very tasty, and on the menu. Which is why the hunting season starts early before the tourists get here,” Jack lied.

  “Maybe next year I’ll come early for hunting season,” the man offered back, scratching some more, and I sighed.

  “Perhaps when you get home you should check that out on the Internet,” I offered.

  There was no point in making the man feel foolish now. Hopefully, when he did uncover the truth and realized that the locals had been pulling his leg — he could just laugh about it and not curse all Scots never to return again.

  “Sounds like a plan,” he agreed.

  “Well, I have to be going, enjoy the rest of your stay on Skye,” Jack said, and the American reached out and shook his hand.

  “Nice to meet you, son.” He offered a wide, blotchy grin as they parted ways. “Nice guy.”

  “Yes, he is,” I muttered, not wanting Jack to overhear me and get the wrong idea.

  “These damn midge things are bloodsuckers,” the man said, scratching.

  “Bicarbonate of soda in a paste…” I offered, and he nodded, impressed.

  “Thanks, I’ll give it a try.” He turned towards his wife, who sat scratching her uncovered blotchy legs at the table. “Bicarbonate of soda for the itch!”

  “Like chickenpox!” She nodded happily, and then went back to scratching again.

  “I’ll make up a paste for you now,” I said, taking pity on them, as I put the last slice of their order on the tray.

  “I’ll take the tray,” he offered back. “Please hurry back.”

  In truth, I was relieved not have to answer any more questions, cryptically or otherwise, from Jack. I just hope that he didn’t ask them somewhere that he shouldn’t.

  That could get the man killed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  ~

  The rest of the day went by in a blur of tourist activity. Tourist season was well and truly upon us now, and even Ross couldn’t get his usual table on any of the three occasions that he came for feeding time at the zoo.

  He didn’t seem to mind as he sat at the counter and made stupid faces and offered goofy looks at Moira every time she came out of the kitchen. Yep, Ross was back to being Ross again – yea – not.

  It was about that time of year when we were going to need to take on extra employees to deal with the extra customers. I put it on my mental to-do list to start calling around the usual suspects.

  Eileen also came out of her book-cave at this time of year to help out, and at a push, Gran, but we didn’t like to inflict her on too many customers, it wasn’t good for reviews.

  “If I feel this tired in my twenties what am I going to feel like when I’m Gran’s age?” Moira said and followed it up with an old person huff as she sat her double-wide backside down on one of the chairs and reached for the mug of sickly sweet tea that kept her going. It was bliss to have peace at last.

  “No more late nights and partying for you until after tourist season ends,” I chuckled, trying to be graceful as I dropped my backside down onto a chair opposite her. It didn’t work. I felt heavy like a Coo.

  “How did we have so much energy ten years ago, and now…” She finished it off with a sigh and topped it by blowing a raspberry. My sister – the wordsmith.

  “More importantly, how does Gran have so much energy now?” I decided to check out Gran’s personal Book of Shadows to see if there were any answers hidden in those blank pages.

  “Ooo, good point. Maybe we could get a little bit of what she’s been having.”

  Moira’s chuckle sounded good, over the last few days it has been lacking. I suppose it wasn’t just a weight off Ross’ mind, but Moira’s as well that he hadn’t been carving up tourists in his sleep, or eating sheep instead of counting them.

  “I vote I leave my car here and you can chauffeur me home,” I said, tired to the bone.

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

  “How about I give you both a lift home?” Malachi’s voice boomed into the open space from the kitchen doorway, and I could have sworn that I had locked that back door.

  “Oh, good, the perfect end to the perfect day,” Moira bit out with her acidic tone, and she flicked a teasing look at me over the rim of the mug.

  “Really? Because I’m envisioning something wooden and pointy, and aimed in the general direction of his heart,” I shot back.

  “Oh, that would be good — you always know the right thing to say to perk me up.” Moira grinned.

  “You know, a person could feel very unwelcome if he didn’t know better,” Malachi said, taking a slow walk around the counter and across the shop floor towards us.

  I didn’t know if I was going insane or not, but I was sure that every time I saw that man he looked better. Sexier. It was very annoying.

  First, I have a crush on Jack. Human Jack. Being human was a plus on his side, but apart from his sexy self, there wasn’t much that seemed compatible between Jack and me.

  Second, I seemed to be developing some sort of a — thing — for Malachi. Vampire Malachi. What that thing was I didn’t know. But that wasn’t a plus in my book.

  Two sexy God-like beings and both off limits. Life could b
e cruel sometimes.

  Moira put the mug down on the table, and cupped her hands around her mouth, “take the hint!” She called.

  “Harsh,” Malachi said, his eyes glinting with amusement as he turned his gaze to me. “Don’t you want to protest on my behalf?”

  “Not really, no.” I didn’t even pretend to think about it.

  “Witch-slapped,” Moira chuckled.

  “Let’s see, since I’ve been here I have — saved you from Lachlan,” he pointed toward me, “saved you from Lachlan,” he pointed at Moira, “disposed of a body, got you out of a sticky situation by pretending to be your boyfriend…”

  “Do tell?” Moira jumped all over that one.

  “Let’s not,” I grumbled.

  “Saved you from yourself with Ross, yesterday,” he pointed at me again, “been more than generally helpful by figuring out that your boyfriend,” he pointed at Moira, “didn’t kill anybody, and watched over your house while you were sleeping last night — did I forget anything?” He looked at the ceiling and waited for an answer.

  “You mean like threatening Moira when you first arrived?” I asked and saw the grimace that crossed his face.

  “Misunderstanding,” he offered back.

  “No, I understood it quite well,” Moira tossed back. She too had a glint of amusement in her eye as she grinned at me.

  Perhaps I was judging the vampire a little too harshly? Nope, Gran’s warning still rang in my ears.

  “Me too,” I offered my support to Moira.

  “Well, the past is the past and cannot be undone. I’d like to be judged on my merits,” Malachi said.

  “In that case — there’s the door,” I offered him a smug grin. “Breaking and entering is an offense.”

  “I didn’t break anything…” Malachi tossed back with a smug smile.

  “He probably picked the lock with a claw,” Moira chuckled.

  “Something like that,” Malachi agreed.

  “Well, he won’t need to go to that much effort, the front door has a key,” I said as I lifted my hands and shooed him in that direction. He sighed, but after a second or two; he did start towards the door.

  “You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

  “What are the odds?” Moira said.

  “I don’t know, but I want that bet,” I said. “I’d put the house and business down on it.”

  “Go ahead, mock me,” Malachi said, pulling open the front door to leave.

  “Your hair looks like a Highland coo, your preference for black on black ensembles is tired, and a cliche and you’re not as charming as you’re trying to be,” Moira shot out.

  I was jealous — she’d got there first and done it so much better than I could.

  “Protest all you want, I know that you both like me really,” Malachi said, and rushed out the door, closing it behind him before either of us could rush to comment. Chicken.

  “I think somebody tall, dark in the personality department, and extremely handsome, in the – I have a boyfriend, but I’m not dead yet, sense is interested in — you.” Moira had chucked that at me when I was least expecting it.

  In truth, I was still trying to come up with several put down lines for the vampire. I almost choked on my own tongue at her words but recovered quickly while offering her a death glare.

  “That’s not even up for consideration, or a good topic of conversation,” I bit out.

  “Two big words in one sentence — hmm — somebody is interested in the vampire.” Moira deduced, wrongly — maybe.

  I grunted in annoyance. I wasn’t about to overly protest her argument because I had learned that when trying to avoid, evade, and sidestepped any issue, it was better to offer a death glare and remain mainly silent.

  “Oh, yeah, I hit that nail right on the head,” Moira chuckled.

  Okay, sometimes the avoiding, evading, and sidestepping, didn’t always work out as planned.

  “Bite me,” I grumbled into my mug of tea.

  “Says the witch to the vampire — shall I call him back?” She chuckled, but she stopped the moment that I zapped her.

  “I liked you better when you were sullen and worried about Ross,” I grumbled.

  “So, I take it Jack is off the menu?”

  “Jack was never on the menu…”

  “Watch that nose; it’s growing, Pinocchio.”

  “I …” I was lost for words. I didn’t want to think about Jack or Malachi, but both of them kept turning up like a bad smell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  ~

  We got back to the house just as night was setting in. Gran had called with a list of groceries, and we’d zoomed around the local supermarket with Moira pushing the shopping trolley, and me being the helpful fetcher of goodies. I have to admit that I took great pleasure in lobbing food at her head, especially when she was distracted by sugary treats. It was payback for her Jack and Malachi comments, and hitting her with a packet of pasta was somewhat satisfying.

  I dragged a box of shopping out of the back of my car and turned to find Moira doing the same at hers. After balancing the box on the bumper and slamming the boot, I started off for the house.

  I was close to the front door when I heard the rumble of a deep, angry growl, and the shriek that left Moira’s lips chilled me to the bone. I turned back toward her just at the moment that the werewolf came out of nowhere and headed right for her.

  I dropped the box that I was carrying, uncaring of the contents, as I pulled on my magic, raised my hands, and yelled at Moira to do the same.

  Unfortunately, Moira seemed to be caught in a moment of hesitation and stood paralyzed to the spot. On a fast run, the werewolf pushed up from the ground with his powerful back legs, and I unleashed my magic at him, not that it did any good because a second beast roared out of the darkness, and met the first head-on in mid-air.

  As my magic cracked off a branch from a nearby tree, Moira shrieked again, this time, she did seem to have her senses about her and dropped the box at her feet.

  I cursed that my magic had missed its intended target. I thought it was strong enough to take the beast down, but obviously, the second wolf had ideas of its own, and as they disappeared from view into the darkness once more, I turned back to my sister.

  “Moira, this way,” I snapped out, jarring her into action, and she set off for me on fast feet.

  The sound of wolves fighting in the darkness was a terrifying backdrop to the moment, but what pained me more was that I couldn’t see what was happening.

  I used my magic to illuminate the inside of the house, shedding light over the area from the windows, before I turned my attention to the cars. One snap of my fingers and a little magic and the headlights snapped on, flooding the area with bright, artificial light.

  I caught sight of the beasts in all their glory as they snapped their powerful jaws at each other, and swiped razor-sharp claws through the air. But it was the ferocious sound of the fight that worried me the most. I had to guess that Ross was one of those wolves.

  “Get inside, girls,” my father’s voice boomed out into the silence that held between Moira and I as we stood helplessly by while Ross was in a pitched battle that we could do little about.

  I shot a look back at Dad as he stalked toward us from the house. I could tell that he was pulling on his magic, and readying himself to use it.

  “I think one of them is Ross,” I said, knocking my father’s hands down so that he didn’t inadvertently hit Ross’ beast with his magic. He cursed at being constrained from unleashing his magic at them, but it was for the best.

  “Get inside,” he said again.

  “Not on your life,” Moira openly defied him, and so did I.

  “It’s Ross,” I said — nothing more needed saying.

  “If I can’t use my magic then Ross will just have to fend for himself,” Dad said, and he didn’t look too happy about it.

  “It’s at times like these that you wish
you had a friendly vampire on hand,” Malachi said, but he didn’t stop to be chastised, or belittled as he rushed toward the beasts.

  Malachi reached them in the blink of an eye, and he wasted little time in splitting them apart. He received a swipe from a razor-sharp set of claws in the process, and I bit down on a curse. It wasn’t that I cared, or that he wouldn’t heal, it was just … I have no idea.

  No good deed goes unpunished,” Malachi bit out. Pitching the wolf that had cut him through the air, where it landed on the ground with a satisfying thud – unless that wolf was Ross and then – ouch!

  “Call the winds to turn and shift,” Gran said from behind me as she came from the house with Eileen hard on her heels like a puppy dog.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “Follow your sister’s speak,” she hissed at me, and I concentrated on the words that Eileen was muttering, but in all honesty, I’d thought my sister was just muttering about being dragged into the jaws of hell, but no, she was definitely spelling something.

  Moira and I joined in, pulling on our magic and forcing it out into the night air; where it twisted and weaved around like a hair plait. We chanted together – three witches – three sisters – charmed – calling on the Goddess to grant our needs, and filling the air around us with a beautiful glow.

  The northern lights had nothing on us as the color of our aura’s met and merged. We were as one. It was positively illuminating, forgive the pun.

  That was when I heard the sounds of pain that were being dragged out from the wolves. Caught in our magic, they sounded like we were flaying them alive.

  I hated that it was happening to Ross, but what else could we do when we didn’t know who was who? As the shift back to human started to take shape, I had to wonder if it might have been all the more painful to stop what we were doing now.

  ‘Stay with it, Moira,’ I willed my sister to keep going. It was as if I could feel her misery, her doubt.

  ‘What the bloody heck do you think I’m doing?’ Her voice echoed inside my head and almost bowled me over onto my backside. I choked on my magic for a heartbeat…