The Vampire Laird (A Ravynne Sisters Paranormal Mystery/Romance)

by Merabeth James

  “I am perfectly fine. If you two would just let me alone instead of hauling me about like a sack of potatoes,” Allyn said petulantly.

  “You are a sack of potatoes,” Meg told him, resisting the impulse to give him a hard shake. “There’s a rope along the wall. Hang on to it and Charlie and I will hang on to you. Now move.”

  Dust and bits of debris were stirred up with their passage, while sticky cobwebs caught at their hair and brushed across their faces. No one had been this way in a very long time, Meg thought in disgust.. A rat squeaked and ducked for cover and she stifled her shriek of surprise and horror. She’d hated rats ever since she’d seen the DVD “Willard’ as a child. ”I hope we’re almost out of here,“ she muttered.

  “Almost,” Meaghan told her over her shoulder. “Just through here.”

  "Through here” turned out to be another stone door that opened into what could only be the cellars. There was a pervasive odor of damp, mold and rats. Meg shuddered. Cellars were also on her ‘least favored’ list. “Come on, Meg” Charlie called over her shoulder, knowing she would have to offer some encouragement at this point.

  “I’m coming...the faster the better...if I see one more pair of beady red eyes I’ll....”

  Allyn sniffed disdainfully. “You always were a wuss.”

  “I am not a wuss, Allyn. Just prudent and safety conscious. You have heard of rabies, haven’t you? And rat bites...”

  Charlie uttered a warning growl that effectively silenced them both. “Get moving you two and save the bickering for later,” she hissed.

  Meaghan led the way through room after room piled high with stacks of old furniture, boxes, crates, and derelict equipment from another era. The floor was thick with stuff neither sister wanted to identify. Another rat blinked at them from the top of an old bureau then fled. This must be hell, Meg thought miserably just as Meaghan came to a stop and pointed upward.

  A steep set of stone steps led up to a pair of cellar doors. “I’ll go up first and see if they’re locked. Pray our luck holds, Meg,” Charlie told her, then climbed to the top and pushed upward. The door opened with a creak and she was looking up into the night sky dotted with stars. Thankfully, there was no one in sight. Leaning down, she whispered, “All clear.” Pulling and pushing, they got Allyn up the stairs and out into the dark yard, then lowered the door back in place. Ahead of them, Meaghan was dancing in the moonlight with her usual joyous abandon totally wrapped up in the moment, which Meg found rather irritating. “Psst, Meaghan. How do we get to the stables from here?” she asked.

  Meaghan smiled, then beckoned and led the way through the bushes and trees that lined the long stretch of wall. Suddenly, the stables loomed ahead brightly lit by the full moon. Hopefully, no one sleeps with the horses, Charlie thought. If so, things were going to get complicated. But their luck continued to hold. A horse nickered, inquisitively, as they slipped inside the cavernous doors, where it was totally dark since Meaghan had vanished as suddenly as she had appeared.

  They let their eyes grow accustomed to the change in light and found they could see more than they first thought. Most of the stalls were empty, but there were four horses still there. All they would need plus a spare, Charlie thought as she stroked the white star blaze on a big bay and spoke softly to him. “There, boy. We won’t hurt you. Meg, help me get this big guy saddled. And Allyn, make yourself useful and quiet the other horses. As I recall, you used to have a way with them.”

  “Hey, Charlie. This mare looks like she’s about to foal any day and the other one has his leg wrapped,” Meg reported as she flashed the light in each stall.

  “Okay...that leaves two. The big bay and that chestnut mare. And I only see one saddle. Most of the gear must be in the tackroom where the stable boy is probably sleeping.”

  “There’s a couple of bridles over here,” Allyn said, lifting them down from their pegs.

  “Let’s saddle up the bay. Allyn, you can stand on that straw bale, then mount behind Meg. I’ll ride bare back. Just make sure you hang on tight, Allyn, or I’ll have to tie you in place. Can you do it?” she asked.

  “Tight as a tick,” he murmured, through tightly clenched teeth.

  They moved as fast as they could, using the flashlight as little as possible to avoid the risk of being seen. Finally, they were finished and Charlie checked the outside before leading the mare through the doors. After she gave the all clear, Meg nudged the bay forward and Allyn tightened his grip. Quietly, they slipped along the paddock fence, but a restive mare caught sight of them and nickered a greeting, which the bay answered. And then another responded.

  A light came on in the tackroom and Charlie flung herself up on the mare that side stepped in surprise. “Come on, Meg,” she said urgently and turned her horse into the thick shadows under the trees just as a figure appeared in the window. They collectively held their breath until the light vanished.

  “Okay...next we’re going to try and make it down to the village and find a place to hide until help arrives,” Charlie said.

  “And when is that ever likely to be,” Allyn asked with a derisive snort.

  “I’ll be honest with you...I don’t know. It may be several days.”

  “Or maybe never,” Allyn added darkly. “She doesn’t let go easily and she thinks she’s in love with me.”

  Meg grimaced in disgust. “Stop being stupid, Allyn. From what we’ve seen, love has nothing to do with it. We will get out of this just fine, but it won’t be easy.”

  Charlie hoped she was right. “Nobody will even know we’re missing till morning if our luck holds. Allyn...a lot depends on you. You’re going to have to stay in the saddle and the way down will be rough, since we don’t dare take the road. Can you do that?”

  He stretched and retightened his grip on Meg, then grinned crookedly. “I’ll manage. Whether she loves me or not, I never want to fall into her clutches again.”

  The moon was both friend and foe, as they picked their way down the rock strewn slopes. The mare stumbled once, almost pitching Charlie over her head, but they had made it as far as the churchyard, when Allyn toppled from the saddle before Meg could stop him. In seconds they were both kneeling next to him. “Sorry. I’m weaker than I thought,” he told them with a groan, while Charlie cursed her own stupidity for not securing him in the saddle.

  “Are you hurt?” Meg asked anxiously, shining the flashlight at him.

  He blinked and shoved it away. “No...I’m fine. Just weak and my stomach is turning over again. I think it was the motion of the...” and then he fainted.

  Meg frowned worriedly and cradled Allyn’s head in her lap. “What now? We’re going to have to hide somewhere close. Do you think Angus would help us? Remember he didn’t want us to go up to the manor in the first place and he seems to be our only friend here.”

  “So soon you forget what happened not that long ago. No...I think the mausoleum is a better choice. Nobody would ever think to look for us in a locked crypt,” Charlie told her, fervently hoping she was right.

  “And no wonder. The idea really creeps me out.”

  “And what are you afraid of, Meg? Ghosts? You are the official family ‘ghost magnet’ after all. Ghosts are your specialty! The most important thing right now is hiding Allyn. You get on the other side of him and we’ll carry him through the churchyard, after I ditch the horses. I really hate to part with them, but their presence will point right to our location.”

  Meg looked around, then said, “I could tie them under the yew trees over there by the far wall.”

  “Fine for now, but in daylight? I’m going to turn them loose and hope they take their time finding their way back to the stable,” Charlie told her sister and left her with Allyn long enough to slap the bay’s rump and send him galloping down the road with the mare in pursuit. She watched them in the moonlight and sighed. They might have been their best shot at freedom, but not with Allyn and leaving him behind was unthinkable. She walked back to Meg, who was trying to
rouse their brother.

  “Allyn...are you awake?” Meg asked anxiously.

  He moaned, opened his eyes and blinked up at them twice, then vomited. Meg turned his head just in time. While she supported him, she looked up at Charlie and asked, “What exactly is wrong with him?”

  Charlie grimaced and crouched down, brushing Allyn’s hair, gently, back from his forehead. “Orianna has been feeding him one of her own special blends mixed with opium. He’s probably been sick and delusional for some time and...”

  Allyn murmured, “Smelled like flowers...beautiful, beautiful flowers...said it would keep me going...unbearable pleasure, but....”

  Both sisters just shook their heads. Allyn and his pursuit of pleasure had almost become a family joke. This time it had nearly cost him his life and still may. They were a long way from being safe.

  “Okay, Allyn, we are going to take you somewhere to hide,” Charlie told him.

  “No more horse...promise? Sea sick....” he said in a slurred whisper. “Head wants to bust wide open...mouth tastes like sh-t” and then he seemed to nod off again...or pass out...it was hard to tell which.

  There was a collective sigh from both his sisters. Grabbing his arms, they carried him through the gate and up the path, then cut through the thick grass between the headstones that cast a chiaroscuro of ink black shadows. The moon shone fully on the large stone mausoleum, winking off the stained glass above the double doors. They lowered Allyn to the ground and Charlie told Meg, “Stay here with him, while I unlock it.” Looking around quickly, she climbed up to the doors and found, to her surprise, they were already unlocked. “That’s funny,” she murmured to herself, “who would be poking around here?” A familiar frisson of unease fingered its way up her spine. Maybe her idea of a safe place to hide would turn out to be a very bad mistake.

  Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move close to the church. It couldn’t be midnight already, could it? Not for the first time, she wished that she had thought to wear the watch she usually kept shoved in a drawer. She crouched low as she ran to rejoin the others. “Someone is over by the church, Meg. It could be the ‘Gatekeeper’ getting ready to signal the offshore smugglers. Let’s get Allyn inside.”

  With panic lending them strength, they carried their brother up the steps and into the mausoleum. Laying him on the floor, Meg supported his head, while Charlie hurriedly closed the doors and locked them.

  Except for the moonlight that made its way through the stained glass windows, they were in total darkness. It was cold...a penetrating damp kind of cold they felt all the way to their bones. “I’m hearing all kinds of whispering...sort of like a montage,” Meg said with a combination of fear and wonder. “Some of them aren’t at all happy that we’re here, but most are just talking about things...daily things. There’s a woman in the far corner who wonders if her husband is ‘tupping’ someone named Elspeth. And right in front of us, a man is asking about his ”auld hound“. I wonder if Meaghan is interred here.”

  “She’d have to be, wouldn’t she? She’s family and this is where they ended up,” Charlie said more than a little glad she couldn’t hear what her sister was hearing.

  Meg smiled to herself, as she thought, not all of them. Grey is buried in the castle courtyard and will never join his family. Maybe he liked it better high above the sea in his ancient home. At least she hoped so.

  “I want you to flash the light around in quick spurts so we can get a feel for the layout,” Charlie told her.

  She shone the light around quickly. With the exception of a narrow section in the back, the walls were honeycombed, floor to ceiling, with slots. Some were filled with coffins, while others were empty, waiting for MacMorleys who would never come now that the manor had passed to other hands. The floor was marble and inlaid with a pattern in the center that may have been a family crest. Stone and marble sarcophagi were positioned in rows, some had the images of their occupants carved in relief on their tops.

  Several benches nested around a white marble sarcophagus whose chiseled image looked very familiar. “This must be Meaghan's, but where did the white roses come from?” Meg whispered, touching one to see if it was real.

  “I haven’t a clue. Turn off the light, Meg, before someone sees it .and let’s get Allyn over to that bench.”

  As they were struggling to lift him, he muttered irritably, “What in the hell are you doing to me now?”

  Meg answered for both of them. “You fainted and we carried you in here.”

  “And just where is here?”

  “The mausoleum,” Meg responded reluctantly, knowing how their brother would feel about that.

  “The big stone MacMorley mausoleum?” he asked with a groan.

  “It’s the only one in the churchyard, Allyn, so of course it’s the MacMorley mausoleum,” Charlie said with a touch of impatience she instantly regretted.

  “She comes here sometimes. The first time I saw her she was coming here,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  “Are you sure it was Orianna?” Charlie asked. “It might have been Meaghan and she has a good reason for being here.”

  He groaned again. “It might have been Meaghan the first time, but it was Orianna after that. No mistake.”

  Meg replied thoughtfully, “That can’t be good for us. Now what do we do?”

  “Wait,” Charlie replied.

  Allyn muttered, “I don’t know about you two, but if I stay in here much longer you can add pneumonia to my list of what’s likely to kill me.”

  Meg shivered. “Unfortunately, he’s right. It is awfully cold in here and not all of it is natural.”

  Charlie smiled grimly, “You mean it’s preternatural like we’ve experienced before with hauntings?”

  Allyn laughed thinly, “You are both completely looney! It’s the living you have to worry about not some cockamamie ghost you’ve imagined.”

  “What about Meaghan? You saw her lead us through the manor. She was real, Allyn Ravynne!” Meg snapped defensively. “Besides, you’re the last person to call us names. You thought Orianna was a vampire of all things. Not that they can’t be real, but Orianna? Please...evil bitch is more descriptive of your latest love interest.”

  Charlie’s patience was wearing thin with her siblings, but she kept her tone level when she said, “Okay...we can’t stay here much longer. So where can we hide?”

  Meg’s hand snaked out and she tugged her sister’s hair. “I mentioned it before and got shot down, but I think our only hope is Angus. You stayed with him, too, Allyn. What do you think?”

  Allyn was quiet for a moment then said, “He seemed okay...food sucked...and Tilda was unnerving. Always glaring and muttering about something.”

  “That’s our Tilda! If you both want me to, I will go to the manse and see what I can do. At the very least, I might be able to get my hands on some warm blankets,” Charlie told them.

  “I don’t think you should go alone...” Meg began.

  “Allyn needs you more than I do right now. I’m not going to lock the door this time in case you need to get out of here in a hurry for some reason.”

  “Like if Orianna and her hound from hell shows up,” Allyn muttered.

  Charlie sighed. “That’s one scenario...there may be others. Just keep quiet, Allyn, till I get back. Wish me luck, Meg,” she whispered, giving her sister a quick hug. Opening the door, she looked around, then stepped into the night.

  Meg watched her sister disappear and shivered violently. “I have a bad feeling...a very bad feeling,” she whispered into the dark.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The moon caught her fully as she crouched low and made her way down the steps into the shadows of the tall grass and gravestones. She scanned the area, looking for the man she had seen earlier and saw the signal light in the church tower. The boat would be unloading its cargo soon, both human and otherwise, but where would they come ashore? They hadn’t seen a path down the cliffs to the shore, when they had wa
lked along them earlier. She remembered stories about the old smuggler caves that honeycombed the cliffs along the coasts of Great Britain and wondered if there was a tunnel down to one of them from somewhere in the village.

  She circled the church keeping to the deep shadows. There were lights on in the kitchen of the old stone manse and, bending low, she ran along the hedges till she rounded the side and reached the front. All was dark and she gave a small prayer of thanks. Moving stealthily, she climbed to the front door and listened. All was silent except for the tick of the tall case clock. So far so good, she thought as she tried the door. It was unlocked, so she eased it open and looked inside. The stone floored entry hall was dark with shadows, but nothing stirred. Holding her breath, she slid inside.

  Moving quickly, she headed down the hall that led to the kitchen. If they were back there, their candid conversation could prove interesting, she thought. Did they have any idea of what was going on around them or who the ‘Gatekeeper’ was? Standing just outside the swing door, she listened intently. There was a clatter of dishes as someone moved about...nothing more. She swore lightly under her breath, as she tried to decide what to do next. Did she just open the door and take her chances or slip upstairs, grab some blankets, and get back to the others?

  Suddenly, she heard the front door open behind her and the sound of footsteps hurrying her way. Her heart thudded rapidly as she looked around for a place to hide. But there wasn’t one. She was trapped. A flashlight beam caught her fully and she put up her hand to shield her eyes. “Well nau, who do we have hare?” a familiar voice asked. Angus. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. “Ah, tis ye lass. And wat ar ye doin’ oot this time of nicht?”

  She took several deep calming breaths, before she replied lightly, “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by?”

  He chuckled. “Highly unlikely, lass. Highly unlikely! Come into the kitchen and let Tilda brew ye a cuppa ,while ye tell auld Angus all abit it.”

  Holding open the door, he let her precede him into the room. Tilda was standing next to the stove, where a teakettle was just coming to a boil. She looked at her in surprise then greeted her with one of her snorts that Charlie returned with a smile.