Leading through two of the cairns were corbelled passage graves. I wandered slowly through one, scuffing the soles of my feet against the rough ground and a few fallen leaves as I did so. It was almost possible to imagine the humans that had come through the same passage to lay their fallen dead reverently inside. Old buildings had always had that effect on me. Once inside the unroofed structure, I trailed my fingers gently across the stones, following the inner circle around. I couldn’t feel any twinge of anything otherworldly but something about the arrangement of the stones triggered my vaguely ritualistic motion. I was glad that the roof was no longer present at least – I always found small spaces somewhat claustrophobic. After a few moments, however, I pulled myself away and back out to the greenery to find Mrs Alcoon’s blisterwort.
It’s not a showy herb, unlike some others I could think of, so it took a bit of time to find enough cuttings to root up to make my journey worthwhile. I carefully placed them inside a small cotton bag that I’d brought just for this purpose and then, with a somewhat lighter heart, headed back down the way I’d come. It was only early, in fact barely three o’clock, but already dusk seemed to be approaching. I scowled to myself at the irritating vagaries of nature that curtailed my daylight hours and then straight away laughed aloud at my nonsensical spite. The sound was whipped away almost immediately by the wind, but the suddenness and spontaneity of it made me smile further to myself. Okay, things might be pretty bad on the surface – I had the Lord of the Pack itself after me (and if he found out I was human he’d probably pull me apart limb by limb), no friends and stupid faeries to contend with, but I had my sense of humour and my freedom and the relative excitement of the open road stretching away from me. And let’s face it, things could always be worse.
Chapter Six
The light was already fading from the sky by the time I made it back to the arcade. Most of the shops were shutting up for the day, even though it was still relatively early. If the bright delights of the Scottish trinket shop, posh looking gentleman’s outfitters and old fashioned sweet shop weren’t enticing customers in, then there was little chance that Clava Books was faring well, I thought grimly. Then I tightened my lips and hardened my heart. It wasn’t my problem; I had bigger things to worry about. Staying around Inverness would just bring more trouble down on my head – and, by default, Mrs Alcoon’s also. I couldn’t be responsible for everyone in the world, I just couldn’t… So why did I feel so guilty about running off then?
As I neared the little bookshop, I could see that the lights were on. I noted with some satisfaction that the windows at least looked clear and the place was entirely more inviting and less grubby. From the outside anyway. The bell jangled as I walked in, feeling a bit nervous about the conversation I was about to have.
“Mrs Alcoon? Hello?”
There wasn’t any answer so I figured that she was round the back in the little kitchen or her office. I glanced at my watch. There was just over an hour to drop off the herbs, speak to her, grab my belongings from the bedsit and catch the last bus. I steeled myself and called out again.
“Mrs Alcoon? Are you there?”
The shop remained silent. Cursing slightly under my breath, I headed for the kitchen and popped my head in. An empty cup lay in the little aluminium sink with some green gunk that I took to be some more odd tea leaves lingering in the bottom of it. I turned back out again and went for the office door, knocking first. For fuck’s sake, where was she?
I knocked again and cleared my throat. “Umm…Mrs Alcoon? I need to talk to you. I have the blisterwort too.” I pushed open the office door gently and peered inside. She was sat in a chair behind a neat desk upon which lay a beautiful leather bound notebook and a couple of old books. A desk lamp lit the windowless room, leaving a soft glow. This was the first time I’d been inside the office and I was rather surprised at the tidy appearance. The front of the shop didn’t look anywhere nearly as organised as this. I was caught for a split second by a reminder of John’s little office and then pushed the thought away before it could take further root.
“Mrs Alcoon?”
The old lady shook herself, her eyes deglazing somewhat. “Why, hello Jane. I see you made it back in one piece then.” She smiled at me warmly.
“That I did, Mrs Alcoon, that I did.” I was feeling much more relaxed in her presence now, with the incident with Jack the drunk doing me much more good than harm at reflecting my own over-enhanced insecurities back at me. Another flicker of sadness that I was about to leave ran through me. I pushed it away and instead pulled the herbs out of my backpack. “Here, I’ve got the blisterwort that you were asking me for.”
“Oh, that’s simply wonderful! And so much of it too! Thank you so much for going to all that trouble.”
I felt a warm ripple of pleasure run through me at her words. It was nice to be praised for a change. Mrs Alcoon reached out to take the green leaves from me, brushing my hand as she did so. Before she could take hold of the blisterwort, however, she pulled back and looked at me with a serious glint in her blue eyes.
“You will be safe from him here, Jane. And the other means you no harm.”
Uh, what?
The old lady shook herself. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I…see things. I don’t entirely know what they mean but I get flashes of, well, I suppose some might call of the future.”
I knew it! The pleasure waves vanished and my bloodfire leapt up instead. My eyes narrowed slightly and my body tensed, and I waited for her to elaborate further.
She continued. “You think I’m terribly odd, don’t you? With my funny tea, and my demand for strange herbs from ancient graveyards, I’m not surprised.” She sighed heavily. “In another generation I might have been burned at the stake for being a witch, I suppose. My grandmother had visions just like this – all the time. I can remember they gave her terrible migraines. Of course, I don’t think what I have is strong enough for that. Just odd glimpses now and then. Like now.”
I suddenly wasn’t quite sure what to think. I felt tense and wary and wondered what she was going to come out with next. So she couldn’t only just read minds – she could see into the future as well, some kind of soothsayer or clairvoyant. The familiar swirl of heat rose further inside me. It didn’t possess the nervous flicker or angry flames that it often did although clearly my paranoia wasn’t entirely crazy and misplaced after all.
“You think that you see into the future?” I questioned, my jaw clenching.
She giggled slightly, an odd sound coming from an older woman, though why I thought that I have no idea. “Oh, I don’t know that it’s the future, dear. Just perhaps potential outcomes. Like with the blisterwort for my friend. She’s not that sick, I just have the feeling that there might be something coming on. An illness of some kind. And that this might help. It’s all so silly, really. It felt strong with you, though, stronger than I’ve ever felt before. There’s a man – with dark dark hair and,” she cocked her head slightly, “a kind of feline grace that’s unusual in a man of his size.”
I almost snorted at that last but just managed to contain myself.
“You’re hiding from him,” Mrs Alcoon said, “that’s why you’re here in Inverness. And you are going to leave because you’re worried that he’ll find you here. He won’t though.” She looked serious now. “He wants to find you, but he won’t ever come here. I felt that very strongly. And there’s another one, with golden hair but I can’t see him as clearly. There is a strange sort of mist surrounding him. He means you no harm, though, that I am sure of. You should be flattered at the attention from both. They are terribly handsome.”
She winked at me saucily as she said that last comment, which I found almost as disturbing as the fact that she was suddenly me telling me that she had otherworld powers. I had a pretty good idea to whom she was referring, with both of the ‘men’, and I definitely found neither of their attentions flattering. I also didn’t know whether I could trust her vision or trust her.
“I’m not crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, suddenly worried. “Some of the locals here think I’m a bit odd, maybe a few think I’m loopy, but I’m really not. I’d like you to stay, Jane. It’s good for me having someone around and, I think, it’s good for you too.”
I just stared at her, tongue-tied. I wanted to believe her and, it did all make a kind of sense. I knew I’d been worrying about her and what she really was but I was also pretty sure that anything otherworldly about her was just a hint. I’d surely have sensed it otherwise. My mind flashed briefly back again to Jack the drunk on the bus and how wrong I’d been there. That had been different, however, because that was my paranoia imagining things that weren’t there rather than things that were. She had a little bit of power that had been passed down from her family and that was all.
Trust. I hadn’t trusted anyone at all since I’d left Cornwall. I couldn’t tell her about what I really was – that would only put her in danger – but I was starting to think that I could actually trust her with who she was. And maybe it was time to stop running and looking over my shoulder like some frightened rabbit. I’d been a nervous wreck lately. I’d never have let a Fae like Solus frighten me away a year ago. Trying to hide from a Fae was also a particularly pointless thing to attempt anyway. I tugged at my hair thoughtfully, wrapping a strand around my finger. People were normally scared of me, not the other way around. As they should be - my temper was legendary. And I was a dragon to boot. Well, almost.
Here I had a job and a roof over my head. I flicked a glance over at Mrs Alcoon looking at me both patiently and benevolently. Maybe I finally had a friend now too. And I couldn’t spend the rest of my life running away. Besides which, she had said that Corrigan wouldn’t come here. For some strange reason I did feel as if I could trust her. I closed my eyes for a heartbeat, mentally balancing up my options. Then I smiled at Mrs Alcoon, with what I hoped was conveyed to her as genuine warmth.