There was no such thing as vampires and other magical creatures. Life wasn’t about fairy tales, only heartache, despair, and death.
Angus narrowed his eyes. If only death were a living thing—he’d destroy it. Make it suffer for ripping away all the people in his life that had loved him. Rage and frustration twisted inside of him.
Angus grabbed an antique sword hanging on his bedroom wall and stabbed it into the center of his mattress. Sparks flew from the bed. Celtic swirls carved into the handle of the sword started to spin. A banging sound hammered into his head like being trapped in a giant bell. He fell to his knees, covering his ears. The noise died down and a voice broke into his head.
“Are you all right, Dear?”
Angus uncovered his ears and peered up at Nurse Vera. She never called him by name just, “Dear.” Nurse Vera glanced at her watch. “I’ll help you pack your things, then it’s off to the airport with you.” Nurse Vera placed a hand on Angus’ forehead. “You look so tired and it’s such a long flight. Promise me you’ll try to get some rest on the plane, Dear.”
Angus nodded. He waited for Nurse Vera to see the sword and scold him for messing with something so dangerous, but she just stood there, her eyes filled with concern. Angus glanced at the bed to look at the sword—but the sword was gone.
****
Angus stood in the cold terminal of the airport, turned and waved goodbye to Nurse Vera who was dabbing the corners of her eyes with a pink hankie. She lifted her chin, forced a smile, and nodded goodbye.
Angus’ heart sank as he boarded the plane, clutching his ticket stub in one hand and his Game Slayer in the other. Even though his heart felt like a giant sinking stone, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sword. How it had made his hand ache, the strange ringing in his ears, the way it suddenly vanished. Grandfather had told him it was a replica of a real sword used by the MacBain’s in battle. A weapon made of ancient iron, forged by great men and capable of slicing through a human body with a single swipe.
Angus shuddered and buckled his seatbelt. He pulled it tight and checked it twice. He’d never flown in an airplane before and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the horrible things that could go wrong.
Minutes later the plane rumbled down the runway. Angus squeezed the arms of his seat and held his breath as they lifted into the air. When the aircraft leveled out, he inhaled several deep breaths and looked around. The plane was half full, a mix of businessmen and old people. Thankfully, the seat next to his remained empty. He didn’t feel like talking, especially to a stranger.
The plane suddenly dropped, then jerked upright and shook like a car speeding over a bumpy road. Angus clamped his eyes shut and his stomach lurched.
“Won’t do you much good closing your eyes,” a bossy voice said. “It won’t stop the plane from crashing.”
Startled, Angus sat upright. A skinny girl with curly blonde hair, stood next to him. Her eyes twinkled behind a pair of pink glasses with silver glitter around the frames. Angus’ cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I’ve never flown before. Guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Oh, don’t worry. If we crash I’m sure you won’t feel a thing, unless your seat gets ripped out of the plane or something. I’d be sure you have some identification in your pocket so they know who you are…just in case.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “They don’t call an airport ‘the terminal’ for no reason.”
Angus gulped.
The girl giggled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She pushed her glasses higher up onto the bridge of her nose. “I’ve flown loads of times. There’s really nothing to worry about. Where are you going?”
“Scotland.”
“No kidding,” she teased. “Where in Scotland?”
“Vanora?” In the aisle three rows ahead, a middle-aged man wearing a tweed suit and wire spectacles motioned for the girl to return to her seat.
“Oops. Better go.” She wiggled two fingers in the air, then made her way to her seat.
After settling in next to the man, Vanora glanced over her shoulder and gave Angus a friendly smile. He smiled back, feeling a twinge of loneliness and the urge to see how firmly his seat was bolted to the floor.
Angus stared out the little window. Anything to distract himself from the fear in the pit of his stomach.
Fluffy clouds thick as marshmallows surrounded the wing, then dissipated into thin wisps. Off in the distance, a dark fog grew in size and rushed toward the plane. As it got closer, Angus realized it was flying black insects—hundreds of them. They swarmed into the engines. The jet sputtered and shook. One of the bugs smacked his window like a bullet. Angus jerked back. The creature wasn’t swept away on the fierce wind that must be passing the plane; somehow it clung to the glass. Worse still, the thing seemed to be staring at him. Glaring with rectangular- shaped eyes. Angry eyes. Its six-inch body appeared to be made of metal with needle-sharp legs.
Almost as one the cloud of insects drew away from the engine housing, hovered a second—he could’ve sworn they were staring right at him—then retreated. A great ball of fire flared out of the engine. Thick smoke streamed from the wing. Angus snapped off his seatbelt and leapt to his feet, knocking his Game Slayer to the floor.
“Fire!” he yelled.
An old woman sitting four rows ahead, whirled around and gasped. All heads turned in his direction, staring, mouths open.
A flight attendant ran to his side. Angus pointed out the window. She crouched over him and peered outside.
“What fire? I don’t see any fire.” She straightened up, smiled sympathetically, and ruffled his hair. “Maybe you just had a bad dream.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. I saw a swarm of insects attack the engine and then fire shot out of it. Didn’t you feel the plane shake?”
She shook her head and patted his arm. “I’m sure you’re just nervous.” She glanced up and down the aisle at the people staring at them. In a low voice she said, “Sit down and relax. You’re scaring the other passengers.”
Angus sat down, picked up his Game Slayer and stared out the window again. The wing and engine appeared normal. The insects were nowhere in sight. Where could they have gone?
The lights dimmed inside the cabin and the flight attendant handed him a boxy pillow and a small, cotton blanket. Angus stuffed the pillow behind his head and snuggled under the thin material. It didn’t cover him very well, but most blankets didn’t. He’d always been big for his age, which made things hard at school. Kids could be such jerks. Always poking fun and running away before he could catch them.
Angus tried to fall asleep, but worries kept rolling over in his mind. Was he seeing things? First the sword and then the insects. His gut knotted. And what about the people at his grandfather’s estate? Would they like him? Grandfather had spoken of a great aunt, whom neither of them had ever met. She had married his grandfather’s brother, who mysteriously died the day after the wedding. Would she want to bother with some kid she didn’t even know?
Angus closed his tired eyes, shutting it all out and fell into a restless sleep.
****
“Good morning, friend,” a voice crooned.
Angus yawned and peered out from under one eyelid. Across the aisle a strange man in a black cloak and purple vest gazed at him. He was tall and thin and, judging by the gray in his woolly beard and short-cropped hair, nearly as old as his grandfather. The man had a square jaw, a long thin nose, and intense green eyes the color of an artichoke.
“My name is Fane Vargovic.” He extended his hand across the aisle.
Angus stretched and tried to blink away the fuzziness in his head. “Nice to meet you,” he said, but before he could introduce himself, the man leaned forward, glaring at his neck.
The green eyes snapped. “May I see your dragon charm?”
Angus yanked back his hand, not liking the way the stranger licked his lips and stared at his amulet. “No, sorry, I never take it off.”
/>
“Well, fine. Be that way about it.” Fane crossed his legs and turned his back.
For a moment, Angus felt bad for being so abrupt, but not a second later, the man swung around. His eyes twinkled. “I’ll give you ten Celtic coins for it.”
“Huh?”
“Ancient coins, for your amulet.”
“Uh…I don’t think so. It’s—”
An overpowering aroma, like fried onions, wafted around them. What was that horrid smell? As if reading his mind, Fane pulled a long chain of garlic bulbs from his pocket.
“I hunt vampires every summer. That’s why I carry garlic.” He wiggled the thing in the air. By this time, several other passengers were listening and snickering. Angus hunkered down in his seat, wishing he could disappear.
“I really can’t afford to have one sneak up on me, you know,” Fane Vargovic continued. “Wouldn’t be good for business. Now back to that amulet, what will you take for it?”
“It-it was a gift,” Angus closed the palm of his hand over the dragon, holding it against his chest. “From my grandfather. I won’t sell it.” He looked out the window, avoiding eye contact with the strange man.
“Not even for the right price, Angus MacBain?”
Angus jolted upright. “How do you know my name?”
Before the stranger could answer, the flight attendant came down the aisle pushing a silver cart full of snacks and drinks. Angus selected a package of pretzels and orange juice. By the time the cart moved out of the way, the man had vanished. Where did he go? Angus pulled apart the cellophane wrapping. Something was wrong. There was no comforting thump of the dragon charm against his chest. He reached inside his T-shirt—maybe it slipped down inside. Nothing. His amulet was gone. And so was the stranger.
Angus leapt from his seat, sprinting down the aisle. He couldn’t have gotten off the plane. He had to be somewhere.
“Good morning, this is the captain,” squeaked a voice from a ceiling speaker. “We will be reaching our final destination soon. Please fasten your seatbelts and remain seated until the plane has landed. Thank you.”
Angus returned to his seat feeling sick. His grandfather would have been so disappointed. He had entrusted the amulet to his care and now just hours later, he’d let someone steal it.
“Looking for this?” a voice said behind him. Angus twisted around in his seat. The weird man now sat behind him, swinging his amulet back and forth like a pendulum. “If you don’t mind, I’ll keep it for you until we land.”
Angus gritted his teeth. “I’d rather have it now.”
“Oh, very well, here you go.” Fane handed over the item with a regretful sigh. “No need to put up a big fuss. And you better look out, we’re coming in for a landing.”
Angus snatched the pendant, inspected it to make sure it was the same one, and slipped it on. He glanced out the window. The plane flew low over glistening lochs, remote glens, and emerald fields. The aircraft slowed and lowered its landing gear with a thump. The wheels bumped along an asphalt strip. Angus stuffed his Game Slayer into his pocket and gripped the armrest.
For the first time since Grandfather became ill, Angus felt a sense of excitement. He couldn’t wait to explore Scotland. During their time together, his grandfather had told him so many exciting stories about the land and his Iron Age ancestors. He made it sound mysterious and magical. Angus held one hand protectively around the amulet as he disembarked from the plane.
“Onopordum acanthium,” the strange man whispered in Angus’ ear.
Angus spun to face him. “What?”
“That means Scotch Thistle. Like the one on your amulet. Did you know the thistle was used by the early kings of Scotland as their personal heraldic crest? Legend has it that a Viking stepped on one at night and cried out, alerting the Scots to a sneak attack. Thistle has great medicinal properties too, but sadly it has no effect on vampires.”
“Have you ever seen one? A vampire, I mean.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t be much of a vampire hunter if I hadn’t, now would I? There’s one in Aberdeen, so I am here to eradicate it, or perhaps relocate it.” Fane peered down at him. “Ready to go?”
“Go where?”
“Iona, of course. Sorry, I forgot to mention that I’m your ride to the ferry, dear boy. I was hired by one Mrs. Prudence Finklestink-MacBain. Now that’s a mouthful isn’t it? And, I might add, a most unpleasant sort of woman. I do wish you luck with her. I’ve seen nicer personalities in the undead.” Fane surveyed the busy airport. “Now, somewhere is my luggage. I do hope they haven’t misplaced it. Can’t fight vampires if I don’t have the proper tools, now can I?”
Angus stared at Fane. Was he crazy? Or was he for real? For now it didn’t really matter. He needed a ride, but he’d keep his guard up.
Gathering his suitcase, Angus followed Fane across the parking lot to an antique motorcycle. “Wow this thing is cool,” he said, examining the bike. “Is it safe?”
Fane secured the luggage into a sidecar and handed Angus a helmet. He strapped it on, tucking in strands of black, curly hair.
“Of course it is,” Fane said. “Now hop on.”
Angus climbed on behind Fane and the old man slipped on a pair of goggles, kick-started the motorcycle, and launched them into the busy street. They passed wool shops, seafood markets, pubs, restaurants, and misty moors, until they reached a single lane tarmac that weaved into the peaceful countryside. A cool breeze blew inside Angus’ helmet as he looked about in wonder. Grass, green as an apple-flavored Jolly Rancher, carpeted lush fields dotted with grazing sheep that looked like distant cotton balls. Ancient stone fences formed paddocks around the livestock, keeping them safely contained.
After a few sharp corners, they slowed and stopped at a long pier jutting into a dense fog. A sign nailed to a post listed departure dates and times. Shrouded in a gray mist, a black and white ferry floated ghost-like at the end. Fane parked his motorcycle near the dock and Angus climbed off. The air was so thick with the smell of salt that he stuck his tongue out to see if he could taste it. Something passed by overhead and they both looked up. A fat crow swooped in low, made a sharp turn, and dove at Angus’ neck with its big wings slashing. He ducked, but not before the bird tugged at his amulet and flapped away.
Angus groped his neck. Gone! A terrible wave of panic filled his stomach. High above, the big amulet dangled from the bird’s mouth. Angus picked up a baseball-sized rock and hurled it at the ugly crow. The stone struck the creature’s wing. The bird flopped to one side in mid-flight and hurtled to the ground like a dart.
“You got him!” Fane shouted.
Angus ran to the crow and watched it get to its feet and limp away. Now he felt bad. He hadn’t really meant to hurt the poor bird. He just wanted his amulet back. Angus took a step closer. The bird turned and hissed. There was something odd about the crow. It had one blue eye and a black patch covering the other one. The bird hissed once more, then crouched and launched itself into the air. It circled twice, then flew off, abandoning the amulet on a patch of thistles. Angus carefully grabbed the chain and studied the dragon. It didn’t look as if it had been harmed in the fall.
Fane patted Angus on the back. “Good shot, my boy.”
“Thanks,” Angus said, keeping an eye on the sky.
Pulling an ornate pocket watch from his purple vest, Fane glanced at the time. “Better get on board the ferry or I’m afraid we’ll miss it.” Fane sighed. “That would be most unfortunate, because it would certainly shorten my vampire-hunting-budget. Not to mention putting a lot of folks at risk of a neck wound.”
Angus secured the amulet around his neck and tucked it inside his shirt. He followed Fane down the pebbled beach to the dock. The sorrowful lapping against the gravelly beach reminded Angus how far he had traveled from the only home he had ever known. Dark clouds scudded across the fading sun.
Fane gripped Angus’ shoulder. “Think of yourself as a warrior on a great adventure, my boy. Iona is one of the mos
t sacred and beloved places in all of Scotland.”
Angus stood on the slipway looking across the narrow channel to the low-lying island of Iona, where ancient ruins nestled close by the shore.
2
Angus sat on the hard wooden seat of the ferry. Crisp sea air rustled through his hair. Overhead, gray clouds glowed and paled like the forge of a Celtic blacksmith. He stared across the sound at the misty island. Ancient stone buildings protruded from treeless mounds of rock and rain-washed green that made up Iona. The sight reminded him of his grandfather’s stories of the history of the island.
“Even the rocks around Iona are older than the sea itself,” Duncan had told him. “Ancient kings of the early Gaelic Kingdom of Dál Riata lay in rest on the peaceful shores. None of the graves are identifiable now as wind and rain have chiseled them away. In later years other kings from Scotland, Ireland, France and Norway were laid to rest on this divine island as well.”
Angus recalled his grandfather lowering his voice and staring at him in a peculiar way that still made him shiver. “Iona is a very special place,” his grandfather had said. “A holy place. Her ground is sacred. Someday you’ll see for yourself.”
“Hello again,” chirped a friendly voice. Angus turned to see Vanora, the girl from the plane. “What a coincidence!”
“What do you mean?” Angus asked.
Vanora dropped her backpack by his feet and plopped down next to him. “Running into you again. Even on such a small island, it’s easy to miss someone among all the tourists. What group are you with?”
“I’m not a tourist. I’m going to live with my aunt.”
“Really? I know almost everyone on the island. Who’s your aunt?”
“Prudence MacBain. I’ve never met her, so I’m not sure what to expect.”
Vanora gave Angus a sympathetic nod. “No offense, but she’s horrible.”
“Great.” Angus swallowed hard. “How do you know?”
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