“You’re right. I was going to leave. Perhaps you’ve just convinced me to stick around for a while longer.”
“That’s simply fabulous. I am so happy to hear that, Jane.”
I took a deep breath, and a very big chance. “Actually, it’s Mackenzie, not Jane. Mackenzie Smith. You can call me Mack, though, if you want to.” Please do in fact, I don’t like Mackenzie, I thought to myself. No such luck though.
“Mackenzie? What a lovely name. Very Scottish, you know. And it definitely suits you better than Jane. That one just didn’t sit right with me. Now, come along.” She took me by the arm. “Let’s have a cup of tea.”
“Actually, if you put the kettle on, there’s just something I want to get first. To ask you about.”
Okay, so there were a few lingering traces of paranoia. Figuring it would be better to completely clear the air of everything first, I stepped out into the shop front and headed for the pile of books where I’d buried the Fae text. Would Mrs Alcoon recognize it? Would she try to explain it away as some kind of Cyrillic book? I pulled it out from under the other books and managed somehow to avoid disturbing the entire tower, then followed Mrs Alcoon into the little kitchen where she already turned on the kettle and was spooning more dried green stuff into the teapot. I would really have to bring my own coffee tomorrow. It felt good to be thinking about tomorrow.
As before, the vibrations of the book made my skin tingle. I thrust it out to her. “I found this when I was cleaning up earlier. I don’t recognise the language,” I lied. “Do you know what it is?”
She took it and opened the cover with care, then her eyes widened and she put the book carefully on a shelf behind her. “Now you are probably really going to think I’m crazy.”
I looked at her askance.
She explained. “It’s from the Wee Ones. At least that’s what my grandmother told me. There are several books like it kicking around here. They never seem to be there when you look for them but, when you’re least expecting it, they suddenly appear as if out of nowhere.”
Much like the Fae themselves, I though sourly. Still, I wanted to know exactly how much she knew so I pressed her further. “The Wee Ones? Who are they?”
“Faeries, dear. Sorry, I mean, Mackenzie. They really do exist. Or so I’m told – I’ve never actually seen one.” She looked at me with intelligence behind her eyes. “Oh, I see. You don’t think I’m crazy, do you? You already knew it was a Faerie book. You DO actually recognise the language.”
I nodded, feeling a bit bad at being caught out at trying to test her. Might as well tell the truth then, I figured. “Yes, I knew. I just – I just wondered why you had it. Or them as you say there are more of them.”
“It’s more a case of they have me rather than the other way around. Those books have a mind of their own, I swear it.”
The kettle hissed and spat steam, chugging its way to the boil. Mrs Alcoon washed out the cup that was in the sink and dried it with a small teatowel then reached into the cupboard for another.
“Now before I get the tea ready, why don’t you tell me what you know about Faeries, Mackenzie. How did you know it was a Faerie book?” There was nothing in either her face or her voice to suggest anything other than honest curiosity.
“I used to live with a group of people who knew about…such things,” I admitted. “But then I had to leave them because things got – uh, well, they got bad.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You don’t have to tell me about it. But I’m here to listen if you do.”
I smiled at her weakly and she smiled back. In that moment I realised that everything was going to be okay. Mrs Alcoon poured the hot water into the teapot and gestured to the table and chairs next door. I sat down and curled my feet around the legs of the chair, relaxing back into the wooden frame. This was good.
Chapter Seven
The next few days passed with surprising swiftness – and with very little action. There were no more disturbing Voice communications from Corrigan, for which I was eternally grateful, and I had settled into a routine at Clava Books, even being fortunate enough to serve a number of customers looking for information on the local sights and sounds. I spent most of my time rearranging the shelves and properly cataloguing the inventory. Mrs Alcoon hadn’t quite made it into the twenty-first century just yet, and the shop was computer less, but I brought my battered laptop in with me every morning and planned to print out the inventory once I was finished, so that she could make use of it too. Neither of us had mentioned the Fae book again, but it sat on one of the dusty shelves in the kitchen and demanded my attention every time I entered the little room to make myself a drink. At least I’d finally managed to bring in a small cafetiere and some proper coffee so I could avoid the herbal concoctions that seemed to be getting stronger and stranger by the day.
Walking home after putting in a couple of easy hours, I stopped to look in the window of a little haberdashery store. There were balls of wool and knitting needles displayed at what seemed to be knockdown prices and I wondered whether I could teach myself to knit so I could sort out some proper winter wear. A scarf couldn’t be that hard to do, surely? I turned on my heel to go inside when I felt a hand clasp my shoulder. Without thinking, I grabbed it and twisted hard, and was rewarded with a pained ooph. I looked down to see who my would-be assailant was and was faintly pleased to note that it was my one-time nemesis, Derek.
“What do you want, arsehole?”
“Just thought I’d say hello, sweetheart,” he gasped. “Now let me fuck go.”
I twisted harder and he moaned. “You’re a hard bitch. Thought you’d have had the sense to get out of Inverness by now.”
I leaned in towards his ear and spoke softly. “Why? Because I should be scared of you? Does it look like I’m afraid, Derek?” I gripped his wrist harder to emphasise my point.
“Fuck you!”
Suddenly his arm was wrenched from my grasp and he went flying backwards. It happened so quickly that I barely had time to register it before a trilby hatted figure swept a bow in front of me.
“Well, now that’s hardly the way to talk a lady now, is it?”
“Piss off, Solus.” I rotated away from both him and the now sprawled Derek and made to move away.
He stepped in front of me with ease, blocking my path and I looked at him in irritated exasperation.
“Leave me, alone.”
“I will leave you alone when you tell me what you are.”
Pushing my hair out of my eyes, I aimed a sharp kick at his shin, which he unfortunately dodged. “I told you. I don’t know what I am. Besides, I am no threat to either you or yours so what’s the big deal?”
“You’re a conundrum, Mackenzie. Or is it Jane? Perhaps I should just call you Red?”
Solus reached out and brushed the hair away from my face. I jerked backwards, although not quite quickly enough.
Shooting Derek a quick glance, I snapped at the Fae. “Watch it, Seelie shithead.”
He smiled, baring his teeth. It wasn’t entirely pleasant and I could barely suppress a shudder. “Oh, I think your little friend has got more than enough to worry about right now without listening in our little chat.” His smile grew wider. “I could take care of him for you, you know. It wouldn’t be hard. I could make him forget he ever knew you with a quick breath. Or perhaps punish him to make him understand the error of his ways? Give him a donkey’s head to befuddle medical science?”
“Plagiarising Shakespeare now, are you?”
Solus snorted. “More like he plagiarised us. Midsummer night’s dream – what a ridiculous notion. Although,” he took a step towards me, “you do realise that it’s almost the midwinter solstice? Strange things happen up at Clava Cairns on that particular day. But you probably know all about that having visited there already.”
I scowled. “Following me? I’d have thought you’d have better things to do.”
“Oh, I’m highly entertained just by being in your vicinity.” He looked me up and down assessingly. “I think what I’ll do is give you a nickname all of my own. That way I can be sure I won’t be accused of plagiarising anybody else. How does ‘Mule’ sound?”
I glared at him and tried to sidestep around. He moved with me and I clenched my fists, trying to keep my temper in check.
“No,” he continued musingly, “you might be as stubborn as a mule but I don’t think being compared to a packhorse quite works. Perhaps I should keep it simple and go with ‘Fire’?”
My head snapped up at that one but fortunately Solus didn’t seem to notice and carried on. “But, no, that might prove difficult around the police. If people randomly call out ‘Fire’ when you’re around, they may just get out their guns and shoot you and then where would I be?”
“The police in Scotland don’t carry guns you feckless Fae. And my name is Mack.”
“You must miss having people around you who call you that,” he stated smoothly. “Why don’t I make you feel a bit better about that?”
Before I could stop him, Solus encircled one arm around my waist. I yanked away from him but his grip was tight – it didn’t really matter anyway because almost as soon as he had hold of me, the air started to shimmer. It took a second or two for it to sink in and then I really started to struggle in alarm.
“Solus, what the fuck are you doing?” I spat.
But I knew. The fucking idiot had decided to transport me somewhere using that handy Fae tactic of nipping in and out of dimensional existence. God only knew where he’d decided to go, pulling me along for the unhappy ride. Wherever it was I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be anywhere that I’d want to go. My whole stomach exploded in flame in a way that I’d not felt in months, not since Iabartu, and this time I let the sensation flood my body. Because I was furious. How dare he do this?