Craving-First Thirst

by Claudy Conn

He inclined his head. “Bobbie, yes…tell me how you like Scotland thus far.”

  I chuckled. “Well, I love what I have seen, but I’ll give you a better answer once I have roamed about and gotten a feel for it.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  I saw his eyebrow rise and his lips twitch as I took up two small cakes and devoured them between sips of tea. “So good,” I offered.

  He leaned forward and said, “Indeed, I like these little pink ones…”

  We both laughed and after a few moments sat back in our chairs. Gone were any of the tensions that accompany a first meeting.

  He shook his head and sighed. “Right then, Bobbie. Now that we are fed, I suppose you want to address the subject of your duties, but I feel…”

  “Yes, my duties,” I interrupted. “I really do need to know what is expected of me.”

  “Indeed, but first, you see, I wanted you to rest from your flight and enjoy getting to know your immediate surroundings before I worried you with all of that.” He waved his hand about. “You should take a few days to acquaint yourself with not only the estate, but the village and the surrounding countryside. Then we can get into your duties here.”

  “That is all very nice, but I am something of a workaholic. I have to tell you though, I had this feeling…when I stepped out of the plane, it was as though I was coming home, and I would love to start roaming about.”

  “I know what you mean by that. Scotland has become my home, even though I hail from London. I had a feeling for Scotland as soon as we arrived…” he said, and then suddenly frowned and turned away for a moment. When he returned his gaze to me, I saw a curious light in his eyes, but he said nothing, so I leaned forward and broke the silence.

  “Well, then, I am sure you are busy and I don’t mean to keep you with small talk—so if there is a list of things you need me to attend to while I get my bearings, please let me know and I will get started tomorrow.” I so wanted to explore the castle and its grounds before dark.

  “I do, in fact, have just one thing that needs doing as soon as you are able,” he said, and his eyes regarded me thoughtfully.

  “Only one thing?” I was surprised.

  He smiled. “Yes, be at ease here. Find your way on your own. Then we’ll talk about your duties. Deal?”

  “Yes, deal. Sounds like a plan. Wonderful. That was just what I had in mind. However, if you could just fax me a list of things that need managing, I could study it and put together a framework…”

  He laughed. “Indeed, right then.” He stood up. “I’ll fax you that list—general duties for now, and then as we move on, we’ll get into all of your duties. How is that?”

  “Great, perfect,” I answered, and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as I had begun to imagine? “You are quite right. Getting a feel for MacLeod will give me a solid idea of the general workings of the estate before I see how best to get things done efficiently and economically.”

  “Sounds good to me. I really don’t have the time this place requires and you will be taking a great deal off my hands. We used to have a manager a few years back who lived on the grounds, but one day, he just up and left, and I have been attending to it since then.”

  That made me pause before I asked, “Tell me something, Mr. Ascot…”

  “Jeremy,” he stuck in.

  I gave him a quick smile. “Jeremy, if you don’t mind, I am curious about something.”

  “Ask away,” he answered, but I saw a wary look come into his eyes.

  I was about to ask him about the ghost rumor, as I know what I heard and needed the truth, but then it happened! All at once, right before my eyes, I saw what I had felt.

  It hit me like a slap across my face and called me ‘stupid’. I was in total shock for a moment and couldn’t speak. I just hadn’t picked up on it at first. I suppose I was just too wrapped up in all the books here at my disposal.

  Magic. Magic glowed all around him. No, not just glowed but pulsed.

  What the hell was wrong with me? Even though I was excited about the books, I would have normally, after a moment or two, noticed his magic aura.

  Why hadn’t I recognized it immediately? And then the answer to that question hit me as well.

  He had shielded himself. He had tried to hide his magic from me with some kind of shield, but my Shama, obviously stronger than his, broke through!

  What the hell were the chances of my boss being a warlock?

  What was going on here?

  Not only am I a witch. I am a New York witch. That means very little gets by even a young witch like myself.

  There was no doubt whatsoever that Jeremy Ascot was a warlock.

  What was more important was the fact that he had to know I was a witch. He had to know it because a glan (human) wouldn’t be able to see his magical aura. He shielded himself against me because he knew I would see him.

  What I had been sensing from the moment I had looked him over was magic—not earthly, but potent immortal magic. I felt the hair at the back of my neck sizzle with wariness.

  Could I be wrong? No, absolutely not.

  However, because it seemed incredulous, I doubted myself for a moment. I mean, come on, what were the odds that the MacLeod attorney would be an immortal warlock? I was being ridiculous. But…mana vibrated all around him. It wasn’t earthly mana, but of the immortal brand. I am a skeptic, so I went further and wondered if this could be my magic bouncing off the walls?

  No. This—his magic, had a different aura than mine. Way different.

  I stared at him. Warlock, warlock, warlock. It was there for my Shama to address and confirm.

  It hit me in waves.

  I had been so involved in my head about my new job, about the castle, and jet-lagged that I had not noticed at first.

  But his White Magic light was edged with darkness.

  Was he a Dark Warlock? No. My instincts told me no. Most of his aura was swathed in white light. It glowed all around him, though certainly not pure. He had dabbled in the dark energy…for whatever reasons I couldn’t imagine.

  I was stuck in place, staring at his aura, and unable to speak for a moment.

  He regarded me quizzically and said, “Miss Skye?”

  “Bobbie,” I answered, buying time.

  Logic, Bobbie, I told myself. Break it down. He knows you are a witch. He knew you were a witch when he hired you. He hired you not for your managing skills but because you are a witch.

  I got stuck on that for a moment.

  “Bobbie,” he corrected himself and smiled at me. “You had a question?”

  A question? Hell, I had a hundred of ‘em.

  I deflected. I had to buy time. Was I in danger? If he knew I was a witch and he was a Dark Warlock, was I brought here for some awful purpose?

  I avoided staring at him by turning to wave at the large collection of books on the shelves. “Right, I had a question and it is this,” I stalled. “The owner, Devin MacLeod…what is his story? I mean, he has this amazing home…these books…but I understand he has been away for well over twenty years or so?” I couldn’t very well accuse Jeremy of being a warlock, could I—should I? I should. I have always been a straightforward kind of gal. Take it on, deal with it, be done.

  I swallowed because no doubt was left. He was a warlock. Here in Scotland at MacLeod Castle—a warlock.

  I have only one powerful warlock amongst my dearest friends. He had been Auntie Elle’s closest and oldest friend—literally oldest, as he is an immortal and has been alive for five hundred years. He is my dear Manfred. I adore him. He, like the vampire Rafael, has always served in the capacity of an uncle to me.

  “That is a pretty general question,” Jeremy said. “How do you know there is a story?”

  I had already forgotten what I asked him and had to think, oh yeah, Devin MacLeod.

  It struck me that Jeremy was far too cautious about answering a perfectly natural question.

  “Because, ap
parently, people think the place is haunted,” I said boldly, and met his gaze straight on. Okay, time to face the facts. He didn’t want me to know that he knew that I am a witch. He didn’t want me to know that he is a warlock. Why?

  “Ah, and do you think the place is haunted?” he asked, and made no secret of studying me for my reaction.

  “I have an open mind about that sort of thing, ghosts don’t worry me. They, I am told, are looking to finish unfinished business. I say, let them get to it. What I am asking you about is the owner of MacLeod. What can you tell me about him that I should know?”

  “He left here more than twenty-two years ago, a year after his wife vanished. It was presumed he was heartbroken at the time and went off to Europe to make a new life for himself. He keeps in touch with me and that is all you need to know for now,” he said. His voice was low and his hazel eyes went dark.

  My Shama was on the alert. There was more to this story, much more. I could see that I had hit a nerve and touched on something he did not wish to speak about—yet he was a warlock. What do I do? Do I tell him I know?

  However, every witchy sense I had put out a warning that screamed right out loud in my head—danger, danger. Not now, not yet, don’t tell him you know what he is my gut advised. So I didn’t.

  “I see,” I answered.

  “Well,” he said, starting for the door as though someone had lit his butt on fire. “I must be going.” He handed me his card. “Call as often as you like.”

  I already had his number in my records, but I took the card and said, “I will.”

  I watched him go without a backward glance and fell on the rest of the little cakes. I had just arrived and matters were already getting complicated. Should I leave? Why was I brought here?

  I popped one more miniature cake into my mouth and then another and in spite of my concerns, groaned with pleasure. I love sweets, fries, pizza and oh so many food items I can’t list them all, and my friends hate me because I can eat and eat and never gain weight. Witchy advantage to make up for witchy inconveniences. However, now, I needed to figure out just what was going on at MacLeod, because something strange certainly was, and I no longer believed for a minute that I was brought here to manage the estate!

  ~ Five ~

  OKAY, WHAT I NEEDED was some fresh air and exploring to clear my head. I slipped into my denim blazer and headed outdoors.

  Walking always works to get my thoughts in order. Also, I had to take a moment to enjoy the end of an incredible day. The air was crisp and the breeze touched my face with the sweet smell of spring blooms.

  Now, connecting with nature, my inner witch exploded with power and put matters into sharp perspective.

  One—even humans don’t easily believe in coincidences like I was encountering. Witches don’t believe in them at all, and the fact that Jeremy Ascot was an immortal warlock and I was an immortal witch…that was a whopper coincidence.

  I strolled over to the pasture fence and a chestnut mare lifted her pretty head and whinnied to me before she trotted over and nudged me for a pet. I rubbed her nose and said, “What do you think of all of this? Really weird, right? What does this warlock, Ascot, want with me? Do you know, and is MacLeod haunted?”

  The mare made a sound and nodded her head.

  “Aha, so, you agree, weird things going on and MacLeod is haunted.” I gave her a last pat and moved off.

  I had to think. I remember Auntie Elle telling me a few times to be sharp and stay away from the darkness. I hadn’t thought too much of it at the time. What had she meant? I was going to put a call into her as soon as I had more information.

  Ghosts? What do I know about ghosts? Auntie Elle had told me she came across a ghost in New Orleans once and helped the poor soul move on. She said he was able to communicate with her and tell her his unfinished business. She helped him get his closure and off he went. Was the MacLeod ghost trapped and needing someone to help him move on?

  I wasn’t quite sure what the ghost had been trying to tell me, but I knew one thing. I hadn’t been afraid of it. No dark vibes there at all.

  That brings me back to Ascot. Should I call him and confront him? Right now, he didn’t know I knew he was an immortal warlock. Should I put him in a position where he would have to admit it all and tell me why he offered me this job? I was sure the job was a ‘front’ for something…but what? Should I call him now? Should I wait ‘til tomorrow and ask him to meet with me in person?

  I like facing things head-on.

  So, there it was, my decision. I was going to call Jeremy Ascot and ask him what the hell was going on at MacLeod and why bring me here on the pretext of managing the estate.

  I sighed right out loud. There goes my cushy job. Too good to be true.

  I would soon be out of a home and a job, and I had so wanted to stay in Scotland.

  Okay. Can’t do anything today, so just going to put it out of my head for the evening. What I wanted to do now was head for that beautiful barn right around the bend!

  Horses and riding had seduced me at an early age.

  Aunt Elle used to take me to the stables at Central Park and it didn’t take long before I was riding twice a week and in heaven when I was on a horse.

  I made my way into the beautiful stone and polished oak stables and found an elderly baldish man who I guessed to be in his sixties. I liked him at once. Perhaps it was his twinkling faded blue eyes, or the big grin on his face as he stepped forward to greet me.

  He told me his name was Jeff and within two minutes we were talking about our mutual love of horses.

  “This place is spotless,” I cooed as I looked around.

  “Aye, doing what I love makes it easy to do m’job. Also, I live in the loft above the stables, have done for nearly fifteen years, so down here is just an extension of m’home.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful. You live on the grounds. I thought no one lived at MacLeod.” I had to stop myself from clapping my hands.

  “Aye, but I stay indoors after dark…” he said quietly. “And ye should as well.”

  I noticed then long nets of garlic at both ends of the stable aisle. I eyed him. “Garlic?”

  “Aye.” He shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”

  I laughed and decided to drop the subject. Everyone has their different fears.

  He then introduced me to a gelding and said the horse was a gentle soul and could use with some exercise if I had a mind.

  Oh yeah, I had a mind.

  We parted on the best of terms and I headed for the bridle path he had pointed out. He called out after me, “See to it, miss, ye head home before dark. Wouldna want ye to get lost.”

  I smiled and said that I would as I took a wide path from the stables towards the Pine Forest where the dirt path continued.

  I stopped before entering the woods, as the day was moving into dusk. Well, I could just walk a short distance and then backtrack after all?

  All at once, the sound of someone sighing was too clear to deny.

  I turned sharply. No one there.

  Then I heard, “Bloody hell…I can’t go any farther, lass.”

  “What?” I said, and made a circle in place. I stared at the tops of the trees surrounding me, I looked through the path, I looked back at the field. “Who said that?”

  Nothing.

  “Come on, I heard you very clearly. Why are you hiding? Are you trying to scare the new girl on the block? Well, listen up, not working. Now show yourself, or are you scared of me?”

  Still absolutely nothing.

  I looked up at the trees again, picking out a few with low branches that someone could climb. No one there. I tried to discern if someone was hiding amongst the lower evergreen bushes, but if someone was, I couldn’t find them.

  A chill feathered up my spine and all my instincts were on alert. I know what I heard. So, now what?

  It was late, perhaps not the time to explore the Pine Forest. After all, how would it look if I got lost on my first day? I’d feel
a fool.

  And then an unmistakable scent hit my nostrils. Something evil was in the woods, hiding in the shadows.

  I have very good senses and I took another whiff. Blood!

  There was no mistaking the scent. Fresh blood…? What the hell was going on?

  “Hurry, lass…get back to the house. He can’t enter the castle. Get back, hurry!” that familiar voice yelled worriedly.

  Sounded good to me.

  I backtracked towards the barn, then took a short cut through the pasture to the house, scampering over the post and rail fencing, and breathing hard as I reached the stone paving.

  I looked back over my shoulder as I rushed inside and found both Davis and Mrs. Tunny in the Great Hall staring at me.

  “What is it? What happened?” Mrs. Tunny asked. “Ye look as though ye bumped into the divil himself!”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Spooked myself when it started getting dark,” I said as casually as I could.

  “Look, we are on our way home…we always leave before it gets too dark,” Mrs. Tunny said. “Come home with me. I’ll put ye up ‘til Mr. Ascot can find ye a place of yer own. Ye shouldn’t be here after dark.” She reached out and clutched my hand. “Aye, ye are most welcome. Do come…but make up yer mind. We have to leave now!”

  “That is so, so kind, but I’ll be just fine here.” I was surprised by the complete look of distress that filled her eyes. Davis stood stoically at her side, not saying a word, but the disapproval he felt was a palpable thing.

  “Right then,” Mrs. Tunny gave it up, “I left ye m’number on the kitchen counter. Keep it with ye and if ye want me to fetch ye…I will, but ye’ll have to meet me outside. I won’t get out of the car…not here…not after hours.”

  What the hell was going on? These two were genuinely afraid. I managed a smile and said, “Got it and thank you so much, Mrs. Tunny. If I feel threatened in any manner, I will call you.” No point arguing, as I could see how really concerned she was.

  Davis said, “Aye, then, miss. Personally, I don’t think ye’ll be threatened, but from time to time, strange things do occur here. I used to stay in the butler’s quarters when I first started working here ten years ago, but…I found I’m more comfortable in town. Near the pub and all. Ye might feel the same seeing as ye are so young and should get out some.”