“UNCLE ALISTAAAAAAAAAIR! SORLEEEEEEEEY! MAAAAAAIRI! LORD MACTIIIIIIIIIRE!” screams Valentina suddenly. I join her; we shout at the top of our voices.
The baobhans ignore us, as if we were background noise, some night bird, or the wind in the trees.
After a while, we stop. There’s no point.
“Uncle Alistair will be in big trouble with Mum and Dad,” I say to Valentina.
“How is he going to explain this one? Vampires killed your children?”
“Poor Mum and Dad…”
“And poor us!”
We huddle together. At least the fire is warming us, though the smell of those burning furs is horrendous.
When the fire is big enough, the baobhans decide that it’s time for the party. A dinner party, probably, with our blood as the main course. They start singing an ancient, echoing, terrifying song, while circling the fire. Their red manes look on fire, and the light of the flames is reflected in their white faces.
Valentina bursts into tears, and I hold her in my arms. This is not like her – she’s always fearless. There’s nothing else I can do to comfort her. We huddle together on the grass.
One of the vampires breaks the circle, and comes towards us. She kneels in front of us, and raises a clawed hand to my neck.
I wince, then scream, as her nails break my skin and draw the first blood.
She screams too! A lot louder than me. She jumps back, recoiling in horror, and I see her lovely face turning, melting, until it’s the chalky empty-eyed horror that kidnapped us. The other vampires all scream and transform from women into monsters. They lift off the ground to float in mid-air.
“What is it? Why did they stop bleeding us?” whispers Valentina.
“I have no idea!” I press my hand against my bloodied cheek.
The baobhans hiss and scream and float about, until they form some kind of circle over our heads, hovering, like birds of prey over a rabbit.
We wait for them to strike. They don’t. They keep circling slowly, slowly, occasionally crying out to each other in their ancient language. It’s like they want us, but something is repulsing them. What is it? What’s keeping them at bay? It can’t be our pouches – they had ignored mine completely when I’d thrust it at their faces.
“Let’s try again. Let’s run. We have nothing to lose.” I whisper. “One, two, three… RUN!”
And they let us! We’re getting away!
For a few yards. Then one of them comes down on me, and throws me to the ground. Her clawed hands are all over me, my face, my chest, my legs… Until they close around the velvet treasure bag hanging from my belt, the one with the troll’s medallion and Mary’s pearl in it. The baobhan pulls violently, and I hear the bag ripping… She’s managed to yank it off.
It’s too late. She has it.
But the bag has torn. It’s flailing open, empty. Something’s shining in the grass, just beside me… I scramble quickly, manage to close my hand around the pearl and the medallion, and push them both deep into my jeans pocket.
“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NOW? YOU UGLY MONSTER!”
Valentina is on her feet, and she’s waving her little fist at them. She’s herself again, at last! I know that what she’s doing is crazy, but she’s so brave.
“YOU AWFUL, SMELLY THING! JUST GO AWAY AND LEAVE US ALONE!”
I grab her hand tightly.
The baobhans are furious. They’re circling, circling, whispering in their strange language. It must be either the pearl or the medallion, keeping them away. There’s no other explanation. Otherwise, why would they have tried to take them from me?
Wait a minute. From me. I have them in my pocket. Valentina doesn’t.
And then it hits me: I know what they’ll do next, they’ll try and separate us!
I hold Valentina tighter, with all my strength.
Right at that moment, the whole circle of them flies down at us, dragging us in two separate directions. I’ll be protected by the treasure, but they’ll kill my sister!
“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” Valentina is screaming, but it’s no use. We’re wrenched apart. She’s on the ground, and they cover her, like hungry crows…
And then, I hear howling, and again!
Two wolves, howling not far from us.
The baobhans hear it too. They float up and away from Valentina at once, and I can get to her. She has blood on her hands, but she’s fine. I hold her tight.
The wood opens and the wolves arrive, pouncing into the clearing, eyes flashing, teeth bared. One of them is carrying Uncle Alistair on his back.
“Uncle Alistair!” I cry out. He runs to us and holds us tight.
“I thought I’d lost you! I thought you were dead!” he whispers.
“They didn’t bleed us! It was the pearl, Mary’s pearl! Or the medallion, or both!”
Uncle Alistair puts a hand on my mouth, to silence me.
Lord McTire is speaking, in the baobhans’ language. I have no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds menacing.
The vampires listen, hissing and whispering viciously. When Lord McTire is finally quiet, they fly swiftly away, and disappear into the fairy mound, dissolving into the darkness as if they were made of darkness too.
We’re saved.
Sorley howls, a howl of victory.
Uncle Alistair takes my face in his hands. “It was the medallion. It’s iron. Baobhans hate iron.”
“And I hate baobhans,” says Valentina fiercely. Uncle Alistair hugs us both, very tight and for a long time.
***
Lord McTire carries Valentina and me on his back, and Sorley carries Uncle Alistair. We travel silently among the trees, back from the horror, towards the safety of McTire house.
Not long later, we’re in bed, exhausted like we’ve never been before.
“Luca…” says Valentina in a small voice.
“Yes?”
“If you had killed the troll, he wouldn’t have given you the medallion. If he hadn’t given you the medallion, we’d be dead.”
It’s true. I remember the moment I looked into the troll’s pale, almost white eyes, and I saw such fear in them, and resignation. I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill him.
And that act of mercy had saved my own life.
“I know…” I whisper in the darkness.
But there’s no reply. Valentina is already asleep.
PART FOUR: WINTER
24. WHERE MY DAD FINDS OUT AND WE’RE IN TROUBLE
Alistair Grant’s Scottish Paranormal Database
Entry Number 21: The haunted cliff
Type: Post-mortem manifestation
Location: Canisbay, Caithness
Date: The present
Details: A forlorn figure walks the cliff at Canisbay, occasionally sitting down to watch the sea. He disappears if anyone tries to make contact.
The next morning, at the McTire breakfast table, we’re quiet. We’re very much in the doghouse. Or in the wolfhouse, actually.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Alistair. When we saw the wolves…” I hesitate. Werewolves? Wolves? What do they prefer to be called? Lord McTire doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “We thought you were in trouble. We thought you were being attacked.”
“I know.”
“It was incredibly foolish of you to come out…” says Lord McTire. We bow our heads. “…and brave. Both of you. The way you tried to save your uncle when you thought he was in danger…”
“The way you didn’t run from the baobhan who had Valentina, you let her take you too…” intervenes Sorley, looking at me.
“You’re easily two of the bravest children I’ve ever met. This is for you.”
Lord McTire stands up, walks around the dinner table – it goes on for miles, so it takes a good few minutes to circumnavigate it – and hands us a velvet case, one each.
We open them in silence. Inside, a dagger. A silver dagger, decorated with spirals and lovely intricate designs. The handle is carved in the shape of a wolf�
�s head.
We’re speechless. Even Valentina. I can feel Mairi’s eyes on me. Lord McTire speaks to us solemnly.
“They’ve been in our family for generations. They were supposed to go to Sorley and Mairi, but we talked about it. They want you to have them.”
“You’re now part of the clan McTire, as well as Grant. That is, if you want to be,” says Sorley.
“Do we have to be werewolves?” asks Valentina, matter-of-factly. I elbow her.
“It’s not compulsory,” laughs Sorley.
“You’ll need these daggers. They’re made of silver – a metal of great use against many creatures. Though we’re not in the habit of harming anything, you might need to defend yourselves.”
“Lord McTire, Sorley, Mairi…” I’m caught in the solemnity of the moment. “Thank you.”
“Yes, thank you so much!” Valentina gets up and gives each of them a big hug, and then she hugs Margaret as well, who’s looking on with shiny eyes.
Before we leave, the McTire family accompany us to the loch shore. Lord McTire calls the mermaids with his special whistle and, after a wee while, they appear, swimming towards us. I kneel down, to get as close to them as possible.
I recognise the one who saved me from her eyes. She puts her blue-green arms out to me, and I hug her. I don’t care about getting wet. I look into her black eyes, and she makes a deep singsong sound, like a whale.
“I’m so glad to see you too.” My voice sounds just like hers.
She puts out her webbed hand, and I put mine against it, like we did on the glass when she was in the aquarium.
“See you again, soon,” she whispers.
“Soon,” I answer, and it sounds like water lapping on the shore.
They sing for me, a beautiful haunting goodbye song, and then they swim away, towards the heart of the loch. I watch the waters until they disappear. We’re walking towards the black truck when I hear a lovely sweet sound coming from the loch.
It’s a tiny tender yeeeeeeey. It’s Finlay, saying goodbye.
***
I can still hear Finlay’s small voice as I step into the truck. Right at that moment, Camilla materialises on the back seat between us.
“Hi! I’m back. Did I miss anything?”
“Camilla! Wait till I tell you what happened to us! We got kidnapped!” exclaims Valentina.
I let Valentina tell her about our terrible night, while Camilla aaahs and ooohs and floats upwards in excitement, while I drift away, lost in thought, reflecting on all that happened to us in Loch Glas.
The trees are golden and red and brown as we travel back to our van at Loch Brue, and then towards home. I have my rucksack in my lap, and I notice for the first time that it feels very light.
I rummage in it. No diary. Have I forgotten to bring it from Loch Glas? I can’t have. I never took it out while I was there. Or at Loch Brue. I must have left it at home. A chill travels down my spine, a terrible doubt – but I push it to the back of my head. It’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s safe.
“About the McTire family…”
“One of the few wolf families left in Scotland,” explains Uncle Alistair.
“There are others?”
“Yes. I know a couple.”
“Have they always been like this… I mean, was Lord McTire the first, or…”
“Or. They’ve been wolves since forever. You see, thousands of years ago, Scotland had three clans, the Wolf, the Bear and the Cat. Many people could turn into their clan animal at will. This gift has nearly been lost through the generations, but some families still retain it…”
“Right… so are there werebears? And werecats?”
“They don’t call themselves that, but yes, there are a few that can turn into bears and wildcats.”
“I wish I was one,” sighs Valentina.
“A werepoquito, Valentina?” I laugh.
“Very funny. And what about Mairi? Is she a werewolf too?”
“No, only the males in the family inherit the gene. She’s quite remarkable, though, I can assure you. I think you’ll find that out one day.”
We drive on. It’s beautiful here as autumn turns to winter, and my mind wanders, lost in a dream. I think of all that’s ahead of us, all the adventures we’ll have, the discoveries we’ll make. One day I was a normal boy from a remote island nobody ever heard of, the next day I’m doing all this.
I feel brave, I feel strong. I feel like I’m doing what I should be doing.
Since Uncle Alistair appeared in our lives, we’ve freed the village of Hag from the stone fairies, and given baby Ella back to her people; we’ve saved Mr and Mrs Nicol from becoming troll food, and given the troll a new home; we’ve helped save the stranded mermaids; we’ve given Mary her ring back, and we’re giving her a taste of life on land; and we saved the zeuglodon from becoming a science experiment, or ending up in some weird creature zoo. And, we’ve survived being attacked by a bunch of vampires.
Loch Glas is just the best place I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d like to go back there soon, and ask Sorley to tell me every single story of every creature they’ve rescued. I’ll never forget the dinosaur’s long neck rising from the water, its back like an ancient moss-covered hill… Like centuries past looking at me in the face, in a single magical moment.
I don’t need anyone to know about what we do, about the RWR. I don’t need the glory. It’s enough to know that I’m doing something special, that I’m part of something necessary and unique.
And then, one day, maybe when I show him my diary, my dad will see that I’m just like him. He’ll speak to me, ask me things about my life, and we’ll chat for hours and do things together. I’ll be his best friend. Better than boring old Reilly, who doesn’t even exist.
Yes, it’s all going to go the way I planned.
I look at my sister, her blonde hair falling on her face, immersed in the latest issue of Reptiles of the Americas. Then at Camilla, sitting between us, transparent and pretty in her white dress. And finally, at my uncle’s profile as he drives, the straight nose, the determined blue eyes, the stripy blue and green scarf wrapped many times around his neck. We’re a good team. I never, never want to be apart from them.
As we drive into Eilean, the brightly coloured houses seem to shine against the dark grey sky, and the sea is announcing a storm. It’s good to hear the soft sound of the sea lapping against the shore, like a welcome home. We stop at Weird HQ to leave our bags and equipment, then walk on. Alistair is taking us home. We’re chatting and laughing as we come through the alley at the side of our house and turn into the wee courtyard.
My mum is standing in front of the back door, her arms crossed, her lips pressed together. It looks like she’s been crying. Something has happened.
Uncle Alistair stops in his tracks, frozen.
“You know,” he says, in a blank voice.
“Yes.”
“Listen, Isabella… I never meant…” His face is full of horror.
“What happened to you?” Mum shouts out suddenly, taking my face in her hands. The scratch from the baobhan’s nails.
“It was… brambles…” I mutter.
“Oh, I don’t even want to know!” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Valentina hiding her scratched hands behind her back.
“Isabella, I’m sorry…” Uncle Alistair takes a step towards us.
She raises a hand to stop him.
“I don’t want to listen, Alistair. You put my children in danger. Terrible danger…” Her voice breaks. “Duncan explained to me what you used to do. It wasn’t an accident, with your parents.” She shakes her head in horror. “It wasn’t an accident. It was an experiment.”
“That’s not true… It was meant to be a party trick… They asked me to… to… And I’m putting it right! I’m nearly there!” He puts his arms forward as if he’s trying to reach out. Isabella takes a step back.
I realise I’m shaking.
I take a step towards Valentina. Our hands me
et and we cling to each other.
“Duncan showed me the diary. Luca’s diary.”
“You weren’t supposed to read that! Dad wasn’t supposed to read that… Not yet!” I blurt out.
“Children, come inside and go upstairs. Your dad wants to see you. Alistair, just go.” My mum interrupts me. “Duncan doesn’t want you in our house and, to be honest, neither do I.”
Alistair goes, back hunched, eyes downcast. Alone.
I feel something wet fall on my hands, on my forehead, on my cheeks. I look up, and there’s a million little white flakes twirling in the darkening sky, falling and falling silently on us, and on the sea
***
Valentina has been sent to bed. Camilla has gone to Alistair’s house, because, she said, we’re together and he’s on his own again. I’m upstairs in my dad’s study.
“I can’t believe you deceived us like this. I can’t believe you lied to us,” my dad is saying.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. But if I told you, you would have made us stop…”
“Too right we would have, Luca!” booms my dad. His eyes are shining with a black, angry light.
Strangely, I’m not afraid. I’m angry too.
“What we do is important, Dad! I’m doing something valuable for the first time in my life, something that matters!”
“Everything you do is important to me,” says my mum quietly.
“To you, yes. But not to Dad! He doesn’t even speak to me!”
They both look at me, horrified. My dad’s eyes are wide with upset.
“You’re making stupid excuses now,” he says in a small voice. My dad, a small voice?
“No, he isn’t. He’s right,” says my mum. She looks steely, determined. “You don’t speak to him, in fact. Or to Valentina. You barely speak to me, actually. All you do is… write.”
My mum and dad fighting. This is not really happening. This is not supposed to happen.
“Isabella, this is not the moment…” starts my dad.
“It’s never the moment, with you,” I burst out angrily.
“Don’t speak to your father like that!” retorts my mum, instinctively.
Really Weird Removals.com Page 18
