THE SEER

Chapter Four

When she woke it was again dark. Isobel was sitting on the bed watching her impatiently."I thought you were never going to wake up. Mr. Wyndam said you were to drink that," she pointed to a tankard on the bedside table.

"What is it?"

"He said it was beef tea, good for the blood."

Well he'd know all about that wouldn't he, she thought. She was so hungry, she drank it anyway. She still felt weak, but her head felt clearer, and the pain was gone.

"Come here you. Since when do you listen to what a stranger tells you? I've told you umpteen times not to talk to strangers."

She was hugging Isobel, and at the same time running her fingers over her skin, checking her skin for bite marks. Isobel took a deep breath, knowing she was in for a telling off.

"I know but Mr. Wyndam said it would be alright. He wanted to thank us for taking care of him and his horse, and then you weren't well, so I said I'd go to the village for him and he said he'd look after you 'til I got back."

I'll bet he did. She looked over at the bedroom door which was closed over.

"Isobel, fetch my trinket box over will you?"

She quickly washed and changed into fresh clothes, whilst Isobel rummaged in her dresser. She pulled out a small wooden box and brought it over to her mother.

"What happened to your wrist?"

"Oh it's just a bit sore that's all."

She smiled at her daughter, who seemed content at her smooth lie. She looked through the few pieces of jewellery, pulling out a small silver necklace.

"Isobel, this was your great-grandmother's. I think she'd want you to have it. Now you have to promise me to keep it on and look after it."

She slipped it over Isobel's head and kissed her forehead. "Now do you promise?"

"Yes Mother." Isobel was turning the little necklace over. It was a little silver cross, beautifully detailed.

"Oh I was to tell you supper was nearly ready." Isobel jumped down from the bed.

Supper? She had no food in the house; she'd been due to go to the village for provisions.

"Isobel," she called after her but she'd already scampered over to the door and had it open before she could reach her.

"Ah the patient! Feeling better?"

Wyndam was sitting at the kitchen table, smiling, perfectly at ease and seemingly healed. The table was set for three, with a large piece of roast beef at the centre. Isobel was scurrying about, giving Jenny a chance to look at Wyndam. His colour had changed. That's my blood that's caused that, she thought. He looked up at her. They were studying each other.

"Make yourself at home why don't you?" she whispered.

"Thank you I will." the smile was back in place.

"As I was saying Isobel, your mother needs building up."

"Thanks to you," she whispered a little louder this time, eyeing up the food and Isobel.

The smile was still there. If anything it was wider.

"It was the least I could do after your kind hospitality. Especially as Isobel tells me you haven't been well lately, I mean before my arrival. A few good meals in you and you'll be fine."

She sat down opposite him, holding his gaze. She leaned forward and whispered, "You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"Yes I am actually."

Isobel had returned, carrying a large carving knife. Wyndam's eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the cross, but he said nothing.

"I'd better take that little one, take these apples to my horse, and come straight back."

He stood to carve the meat; it was as though he was waiting for her questions.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"I haven't decided yet." The knife cut into the meat.

"Why isn't she afraid of you?"

He turned to look directly at her.

"You've known fear Jenny. She hasn't." He continued, "You've protected her from the monsters without and within. And when they get too close, you run and hide and start again. Am I correct?"

She gave a slight nod, eyeing him warily.

"You're a long way from home, Seer."

Wyndam started to pour ale into two tankards. "Scottish and no illicit still out the back? Tut-tut!

Jenny smiled in spite of herself. "Are you trying to get me drunk now?"

He sat down with a mock sigh. "No, you are a Scot after all. I think I'd lose that wager."

Before she could answer back, Isobel had come back into the room and sat down at the table, gazing openly up at Wyndam. He took the cue."Well, shall we eat?"

Isobel gave a polite little cough. "We usually say grace when we have a visitor at the table."

Jenny's head shot round in amazement at her daughter's remark, whilst Wyndam's face was a picture of perfectly studied innocence. Thoroughly amused now, he leant towards her and whispered, "You're quite right Isobel, but I think God will let you away with one night off."

Even Jenny was smiling. "Out of the mouth of babes..." He turned back with a slightly quizzical look to her.

"Oh that'll be her Uncle Robert. Any more pious he'd be running the Church of Scotland."

He burst out laughing, "Oh you're good for the soul Jenny."

"You mean you have one?" she countered slyly. It was out before she realised what she'd said. There was darkness in his eyes for just a second before he smiled that rueful smile again.

"I'll let you have that one. Now I hate to see a perfectly good meal go to waste..."

The strange meal passed quickly. Wyndam was good company; charming and polite, but Jenny could see a sharpness to his features every so often, it was there under the surface, in a gesture or a look. Once you knew he was a vampire you could see how that smile could turn forbidding, and those eyes that were so blue could turn cold and ruthless. The wound on her wrist was proof of what he was. The strength he'd shown even when badly injured...It was a game of cat and mouse being played out, one she knew she couldn't win. The best she could hope for was their survival, one way or another.

"Now young lady, you are dead-tired on your feet there." Isobel's head was resting on the table but Jenny looked at Wyndam pointedly.

"Sorry, gallows humour can't help it. I'd say it was well past your bedtime wouldn't you?" Isobel was rubbing her eyes but for once she didn't argue over going to bed.

"I think your mother would like you to sleep in her room tonight little one," he spoke softly to the child but was watching Jenny's reactions with those keen eyes.

"Why?"

"I'll let you into a little secret Isobel. Even you mother gets afraid of the dark once in a while. She'd never admit it though," he smiled at her.

"Alright. Goodnight Mum." She turned towards her mother's room, went a few steps and turned back. "Goodnight Mr Wyndam. Thank you for the lovely meal."

"My pleasure, little one. Sleep well." He watched her walk away then he rose from the table.

"She does you credit Jenny," he lowered his voice, "especially as she wasn't exactly planned..."

She cut him off, "They were my mistakes, not her's," she said quietly, "It wasn't her fault." She started to clear away the plates, avoiding his gaze.

"Leave that."

"You're used to people doing exactly what you say aren't you?" She was keeping her distance.

"Generally speaking, yes." He was leaning against the table; arms crossed watching her intently again.

"Sit down. I want to finish our discussion."

"No." He blinked in surprise.

"No? Oh you're fighting me now are you? Very well. Drink." He motioned to her tankard. She raised it slightly, and then slammed it down on the table.

"That's better. That's more like it. You're getting a bit more control back."

"I'm glad you approve," she said dryly.

"Even better, sarcasm!" His smile was widening all the time.

"Please, sit down." His tone was milder this time. They both sat down at the table again, facing each other. Wyndam poured some more ale into the tankards and raised his own in a toast."Your very good health. Start as we mean to go on." She raised her tankard. "Slainte".

He made a slight face at the ale. "I must remember to bring some decent brandy or whisky with me the next time."

"The next time?" Her unease was obvious in her voice.

"Yes Jenny, the next time I pass this way. You interest me. Most humans are either fools or complete idiots, but every now and then one surprises me. You are something different, something new. You're a mix of the old world and the new, superstition and science combined." He pointed at her. "There's a hunger in you for knowledge, you're curious about the world out there and yet you're hiding away in this charming little cottage. You are a complete contradiction in terms. It's as though you're not of your time. You don't fit in, you stand out. The question is what do we do with you?"

"We?"

He didn't answer her question, he merely smiled at her.

"I'm minded to let you live Jenny, for now at least. Partly because I'm a bit twisted that way, and partly because you didn't beg for your life, you asked me to spare Isobel, instead, without a thought for your own. That tells me a lot about you but that's for another day." Wyndam turned his head towards the door, he'd heard or sensed something that she couldn't.

"Ah! About time." She could hear it now, the sound of horses' hooves and men's voices nearing the cottage. The door was battered loudly.

Oh God there were more of them! She knew it the minute she looked at his face, which was now strangely devoid of any emotion. There was a steely look in his eyes and he was studying her closely again.

"Word of advice, don't run, I will find you. I've tasted your blood now and there's nowhere you can hide from me now."

The tension was back in her now; every nerve was telling her to do just that.

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?" His look was questioning. She was just about to say something when the door was hammered again.

"You picked the wrong county for a quiet life, Jenny." The smile was back again as he stood up. "That's enough to wake the dead. Yes I am here Harper. You'd better open the door before he breaks it."

She reluctantly opened the door to find two men, one tall and fair-haired, she took him to be Harper, the other was shorter but powerfully built. Both were dishevelled, as though they'd ridden for miles.

"I'm sorry sir. We had a bit of trouble to deal with, and we weren't sure..."

"Whether I'd survived, Harper?" Wyndam addressed the taller vampire, who had the sense to look down at his feet, away from his master's piercing gaze.

"I'm very sorry sir. I didn't mean to doubt..." he looked back up at Wyndam apprehensively, waiting for his ruling.

"You're young Harper so you're still learning. I'll let this pass. Besides, I've been well looked after by the lady of this house." He turned back towards Jenny, just as the shorter vampire sniggered. He froze, just for a moment, before continuing, "Milligan on the other hand knows better than to try my patience. Deal with it won't you Harper?"

He took Jenny's arm and guided her away from the door. She could hear a scuffle outside.

"They couldn't come in could they?"

"Not without an invitation. One of those rules no one actually seems to remember making." He was getting ready to leave.

"How could you come in without being invited?"

"That'd be telling." He was smiling again. "I'm afraid I must take my leave now. Thank you again for your very kind hospitality," he took her hand, "I haven't enjoyed myself so much in ages. Goodnight Jenny. You'll be seeing me again soon." He'd closed the door before she realised he'd let go of her hand. She dived for the key in the lock before it dawned on her how futile it was.

Meanwhile, Wyndam was contemplating a conversation he'd had in a tavern years before. She'd been worth waiting for. He was quite taken with her, he had to admit. There was a quick intellect there, a brain and spirit, ice and fire. And above all, potential. How best to use that potential?

Harper had brought his horse round from the stable. He knew better than to disturb his master when he had that inscrutable expression on his face.

"No one touches her. She is under my protection. As is the child."

"Yes sir." Harper mused for a moment. "The village, sir?"

"Also out of bounds. Pass the word." Wyndam reined in his horse and looked back at the cottage. The look on his face was now calculating. I wonder if she'll run?

Back in the cottage, Jenny ran to her bedroom to hold Isobel as tight as she could, waking her up just to hear her voice. There were tears in her eyes and even half-asleep her daughter knew something was wrong. She smiled down at her, "It's nothing sweetheart. I'm just a wee bit afraid of the dark tonight." Another night of keeping the monsters without. She had seen a flash of her future when Wyndam had held her hand; Isobel disappearing in a sea of bodies, a terrible emptiness, and Wyndam kneeling down beside her. And it terrified her.