She smiled brightly at me. “There now. That’s all the foraging done for the time being.” Her gaze fell on the few remaining books that lay scattered around the floor, including the Fae one that I’d thrown to the other side of the shop. Her smile dimmed slightly. “Goodness, have we had a visitation of pixies then?”
I eyed her warily. There was definitely more to this old lady than met the eye. Could she sense that Solus had been here? I wondered whether to broach the subject outright with her, but before I could think of what to actually say, she’d bustled her way to the back with her trolley squeaking on its ancient wheels behind her. I picked up the books, ignoring the thrum of the Fae one which I thrust out of sight under several others but where I knew I’d be able to find it later, and tidied up the pile. I could hear her humming away to herself from the kitchen with the same tuneless notes that she’d used before, and then the click of the kettle being switched on.
Wandering into the kitchen after her, I aimed for small talk instead. “So did you pick up anything interesting then?”
“Oh, yes, dear. I’ve got some nettles and some St John’s Wort. Makes wonderful tea, you know, and it’s great for the nerves.” She peered at me curiously. “Looks like you could do with some.”
“Err…I’m good, thanks.” The memory of her last brew was still lingering on my taste-buds and I was in no rush to try anything else. I paused and searched for an opening. “So, you are a bit of a herbalist, then?”
“Oh, I dabble, dear, but I’m no expert.” She smiled again and I wondered just how far her dabbling took her. Into witchcraft as well, perhaps? Mrs Alcoon continued. “Although I was wondering if there was something that maybe you could help me with this afternoon.”
“Of course,” I murmured, curious to see what she would actually ask for.
“I promised an old friend who’s feeling sick that I’d make her up a little something to ease her troubles. The trouble is that I really need some blisterwort if I’m going to follow my recipe correctly. With my creaking bones it’s difficult to get hold of. It really only grows on the outskirts of town and it’s a bit of a hike. If I showed you what it looked like, and where to go to fetch it, do you think you’d manage to pick some for me? You need to walk up towards Clava Cairns to fetch it.” She suddenly looked a bit worried. “You did say that you wanted to see them, didn’t you? I don’t want to impose on you, Jane dear.”
I swallowed hard. That was the third time that she’d called me dear in the last five minutes. But it was no biggie. Honest. I wasn’t getting worked up over something so petty. No sirree, not me.
“I do want to see the Cairns,” I reassured her. “And it’s no imposition. I’d be more than happy to, especially as it’s for a sick friend.” I watched her carefully as I said the last, but her expression didn’t flicker.
She reached over and briefly touched my shoulder. “Thank you so much. The fever she has isn’t life threatening or anything like that, although it can be dangerous to animals, but she is suffering terribly with hot flushes.”“Actually I could do with the exercise.” I realised as soon as I said it that it was true. The unsociable hours I’d been keeping whilst I worked at the pub hadn’t been particularly conducive to maintaining a health regime and I wanted to make sure that I was in shape for the next time Solus decided to pay a visit. And in case this little old lady wasn’t quite the harmless old woman she portrayed herself to be. Appearances could be deceiving and I wasn’t going to let my guard down. There were just a few too many coincidences that hinted that the otherworld had at least its fingertips on her, if not actually a full grip. Besides which, I’d helped Julia out in finding clippings in the forest in Cornwall plenty of times before. I was pretty sure that I knew what blisterwort was and that I could find it. It might just be worth taking a short trip via home first however, just to see what particular qualities this herb actually possessed.
I said my goodbyes and grabbed my coat and backpack, re-tying my hair in its bun and attaching the needles safely within, then heading outside just in time to be almost blown away by a chilling gust of wind that attacked my face and hair and virtually undid all my attempts to look neat and tidy. “Fuck,” I swore, turning up my collar although it offered scant protection, and hurrying back to the bedsit. If nothing else I’d need to find some warmer clothes if I was going to go tramping around the Scottish countryside in search of a plant.
I was halfway home when I thought I heard someone calling my name. Not Jane, either, but Mackenzie. I turned around, alarmed, but the windswept streets were almost completely deserted, even though it was barely midday. I’m just imagining things, I told myself. I hunched my shoulders over further and battled onwards against the wind. Siberia has nothing on this place, I thought grimly, pushing forward. Then I thought I heard it again. Just a ripple of a voice, however, saying something indistinctly. I whipped around again, ignoring the blast of wind now against my back. My eyes darted around the streets. This was getting bad. Was it the Fae, or something else? I frowned and then turned forward again. There was a little alleyway, or a vennel, as the locals called it, up ahead. I’d been here long enough to know a little of the lay of the land and it would suit me for darting into to see if anyone really was following me. I forced myself to maintain my original pace and not appear too overly concerned.
My eyes were starting to smart from the ongoing wind and I blinked away a few tears, shaking my head to try to maintain my vision. My nerves were jangling and on edge and I could feel the flames rising. Inverness was just becoming too dangerous, I decided. I’d see what this was behind me, sort it out and then find somewhere else to go where little old ladies didn’t seem to frighten me and where Fae couldn’t find me. Easy.
A few moments later I reached the vennel and quickly shot in. It would have been nice to enjoy the respite it gave me from the gale force winds but instead I kept my senses open and focused.
Mackenzie.
There. It was faint, but I definitely heard something. And it was definitely my name. I resisted the urge to peek round the corner and instead pulled out the needles again. Bring it on.
It’s been a while but I will find you, kitten.
I almost dropped the silver. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. That wasn’t a voice, that was a Voice. And not just any Voice, either, it was Corrigan’s. My panic systems went into overdrive and before I knew it I was poised and ready for flight. I felt as if a screeching alarm was going off in my head. Get out, escape, run now, Mack, run now, it screamed at me.
My heart was thudding in my chest and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, nipping into this alley seemed like a ridiculously bad idea. I’d be trapped here and he’d find me. I had no lotion to mask my scent and he’d find out I was human, or at least he’d find out I wasn’t pack, I amended to myself, and then he’d rip me apart. And then he’d go after Tom and Betsy, and the rest of the remaining pack members in Cornwall and he’d destroy them bit by bit, limb by limb. He had enough strength to that with barely raising a sweat, I was sure. He’d massacre them and then go off for breakfast with all his Brethren buddies and think no more of it. I’d be a footnote, a warning to anyone who ever dared to think they could infiltrate the pack and not have a were. It wouldn’t matter that I might be part dragon. I was dead and so was everyone I’d ever cared about.
Then I realised that the only thing I could now hear was the sound of the wind whistling through the streets and the occasional rumble of a car in the distance. Think, Mack, think, I forced myself. His Voice had been faint. Most alphas couldn’t use their Voice far out of their local vicinity but Corrigan had contacted me once from London whilst I was in Cornwall and that had been as a clear as a bell. This time, however, I’d had to struggle to work out what he‘d been saying. He couldn’t be anywhere nearby. And he’d said he’d find me. That meant that he still didn’t know where I was. I felt the tension almost immediately release itself from my body. He was probably just teasing me, trying to keep me on my toes. I’d not been expecting to hear him; he’d kept pushing at me with his Voice after I left Cornwall but since passing the north-east of England I’d heard nothing and had assumed that I was either out of his range or that he’d given up. Between Solus and my suspicions about Mrs Alcoon and now this though, this day was shaping up to be one of the worst I’d had for a long time, and I’d not even had lunch yet.
Once I was home, I changed into a warmer jumper and pulled out a pair of fingerless gloves from a box under the bed. I tried to find some iron weaponry that I could take with me in case Solus decided to show up again, but I had scant few belongings and hadn’t thought to prepare myself against a miniature Fae invasion. All my efforts had been concentrated against defending myself against the Pack, and Corrigan. I decided that I’d run this errand for Mrs Alcoon and then definitely take my leave of Inverness and its cold winds. I felt a brief of twinge of guilt because I did like the old lady. Still, I’d only worked for her for two days so I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be too devastated at her loss. Besides which, the uncanny way she seemed to read my mind and the Fae book – even if Solus had planted it there – most certainly hinted at things I’d probably do my best to stay away from. I was sure she was harmless but, given my past history with the otherworld, it would be wise to avoid anything even remotely connected with it. I didn’t know whether Solus would be able to track me if I moved but, even if I completely discounted Mrs Alcoon, there was the threat of Corrigan to take into consideration as well. If he was still in London then his power must be getting stronger for him to project his Voice this much further - and that spelled danger with a capital D. And if it wasn’t that his power was stronger but rather that he was nearer in location to me – well, I had to move on. I could probably sneak across the Channel to France somehow without a passport and then take things from there.