Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they own me. Special thanks to Toby Whithouse and BBC3 for the playground.
Beta assistance from TJ4ev and Whimsyfox enables (most of) my grammar to pass muster for Hal. Extra work on this one deserves an extra special shout out. Thanks guys.
Reviews are welcome, loved and encourage prompter updates. This chapter is brought to you by Amy whose review was the nudge I needed to forge on ahead.
To prepare for a long distance, cross-kingdom jump, one normally should meditate. Or pack a bag. If long distance, cross-kingdom jumps were normal, that is. Hal Yorke, on the other hand, was quite loudly putting away the dishes. And sorting the recycling.
"Is this really necessary?" Alex asked while leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. She crossed her arms over her chest in amusement as she watched Hal rummage around in the pantry. He didn't answer her so Alex prodded again, "We'll be back tonight. Unless we miss that ferry."
"We are not going to miss the ferry," he retorted, stacking the pots.
"It's not like you won't be able to do any of this tomorrow." Alex was eager to get going. Regardless of the circumstances, she was looking forward to the adventure of traveling somewhere new.
"On the off chance that we don't return, I will at least know it's sorted."
"Yeah, for like five minutes until Tom cooks again. Why wouldn't you make it back? I'm not going to splinch you. Promise," she smirked sweetly.
Hal paused in his analysis of their recycling bin. "On the off chance I'm staked, I'll die happier alright?"
"Why the bloody hell would you be staked? Is this Carl fellow one of your old friends like Cutler was one of your friends? Cuz that man was like, Dr. Evil-style bonkers."
"No, Carl was... is one of the good ones. He was kind. I just wasn't so kind the last time we spoke."
"Enough that he may stake you on sight? Why didn't you tell Rook?"
"Hope springs eternal," Hal muttered the quote to himself, then answered her seriously. "I doubt Rook would have cared." With one last glance around the kitchen, Hal approved that everything was in order. Pausing at the refrigerator, he slipped a note with the address Rook had given them from his pocket and pinned it under a magnetic domino. He passed Alex and proceeded to the reception phone. Even though he knew she was in class, he dialed Allison's number. It rang a few times, then transferred to her voicemail.
"Allison, I trust Tom reached you from work. He appeared to be fine..." Hal let that trail, then cut to the point of his call. "I wanted to inform you that Alex & I will be traveling on Rook's errand after all. Do not be alarmed if you do not see us this evening. The address of our destination is on the refrigerator, in the event that you have need of it." Hal cradled the receiver, mentally checked that task off his list, and proceeded upstairs.
"What, that's it? Nothing for Tom?" Alex followed him up the stairs.
"Tom is aware of where we are going. That was merely a courtesy." Upon reaching his room, Hal opened his wardrobe and retrieved a change of clothing. Grey trousers, a clean shirt and a dark jumper; simple clothes. Appearing on the Isle of Grimsay in his work attire would attract far too much attention.
Alex watched him change with her arms folded over her chest. After pulling on his sturdy boots, he stood, looked around the room and finally became still. Everything was in its place. "That it then? You certain you don't need to weed the front garden first?" Alex jibed.
Hal cocked his head, "I hadn't considered that." Alex's face fell and he smiled, giving away his sarcasm which Alex scowled at. He asked, "Think it will work just as before?"
"Yeah, I guess. You want to meditate first or something?" She couldn't help her concern. If this worked, they would be traveling over seven hundred miles; further than Alex had ever attempted.
"No need. I remember it clearly."
Alex unfurled her arms and stepped away from the mantle she had been leaning on. She took a hesitant step towards Hal and tried to quiet the flutter of nerves that rose up with an echo of memory; pale satin in the darkness, teeth piercing through yielding flesh to flood her mouth with blood. Alex shoved the fleeting imagery away. If it happened again, after they got through this, then she would mention it. Hal was trying to appear relaxed, his hands casual and loose at his sides. But Alex could sense his resignation, same as her own.
As before, she looped her arms over his shoulders and reached into his hair. He did the same, looking into her eyes with a mixture of trepidation and trust. Their foreheads rested against each other out of habit, and he took a deep breath, savoring his sense of her as he closed his eyes.
Alex swallowed, tried to push down the sudden rush of randiness that had inappropriately spiked in her. Why did he have to smell so god-damned good, she wondered? She pushed it aside. Hopefully, there would be time for that later. She forced her focus and slipped into him.
Hunger, a deep hollow ache stretching through every limb, centered on an agony primal in its terrible, trembling need. Alex wrenched back out, momentarily startled. She recognized the sensation, but it was stronger than her dream tenfold. Idly, she wondered when was the last time Hal had eaten proper food. She wondered if it mattered. Images were pressing at her edges, nudging in. Tides and water, light and sky. The air of salt and heather, hedges and moors. Feet anchored in sand, a thatched roof cottage on a short bluff... and a gnawing need underneath it all. Alex could feel the sun on her face, hear the cry of gulls. The hunger was part of the memory, etched into the place as clearly as the shoreline.
The image expanded through her...
In contrast to the sun-soaked memory, the extreme sense of wet was hugely disorienting. The tide sucked at their waists, tugged at her dress and filled her pockets. Hal had his arms over her shoulders but his eyes were wincing and shut. Alex still had hold of him and tried to keep them steady. The shore was a good forty feet away. Keeping hold of his shoulders, Alex righted them onto the sand with one sideways pull. Hal wrenched away from her grasp with desperate strength and dropped to his knees. Fingers clawed the sand and suddenly, he dry heaved. Alex immediately dropped next to him but he waved her off. "I'm - it's - urugh." After a worrying moment, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and came upright, knees still in sand. "This was an utterly horrendous idea."
"I'm sorry - I don't know how I missed -"
"You didn't. It's been centuries. The bloody shoreline changed." Hal stood a bit unsteadily and scowled at his trousers. His clothing was soaked through, shirt stuck wetly against skin and his boots full of seawater. "Wonderful."
Alex recalled the sensation of water filling her pockets and looked down. The silk of her dress shimmered lightly in the breeze, totally dry. She shrugged at the mystery of it and offered, "Maybe we can fetch you something in town?"
"Doubtful. These are islanders. They either close shop early, or aren't open at all until the weekend," Hal reasoned, but the truth was he didn't feel steady enough after their jump to approach people. He attempted to brush off the sand clinging to his sodden trousers without much luck. Then, using Alex's shoulder for balance, he removed a boot with a swift tug of the laces, tipped the the water out, replaced it, then did the same with the other. Miffed at the indignity of it all, and at his own mistake, he straightened, then indicated towards the grassy hillside. "Come on. We may as well find the car."
Alex followed Hal up a pathway from the shore to the bluff above. The little thatched-roof cottage from his memory was nowhere to be seen. A single road wound down, into the distant hills, and disappeared. The only thing interrupting the rolling green landscape of hedges was a square blue speck of a lone vehicle, parked just off the road. They started the moderate walk towards it.
Hal's boots squelched wetly and his trousers, laden with seawater, chafed against the burn on his leg. Before they had even reached the tiny blue Renault, he declared, "I'm not driving all the way to Harris in that like this."
Rook's resources were vast, but apparently not very impressive. The old navy Alliance was so rusted it was questionable the thing would even start. Maybe this wasn't their car at all. Maybe someone had just left it out here on the lonely bluff to die.
Hal retrieved the key from behind the driver's rear tyre, just where it was supposed to be. "Shit, that thing looks like it'll break down on general principle," Alex retorted.
The key worked and Hal opened the driver's door to peer in. The car appeared clean, at least. He checked his watch, thankful it had remained dry. "We have time," he mused. "Its only twenty minutes to the village. We will be paying a visit to our cover after all."
Kitchen scrubbed down, supper pies baked and even the recycling sorted; Tom McNair finally had to admit that his work was finished for the day. He hadn't seen Alex or Hal since this morning, which was a blessing really. He was terrible at lying.
Tom glanced at the industrial metal clock high up over the sink. He should be catching his bus to class right now. Untying the strings, Tom took off his apron and hung it up.
"Bye Tom," Sophie chimed pleasantly from the worktable where she was finishing up dinner prep. She had been even more quiet today than usual, and Tom knew it was on account of Hal shouting at him. But she hadn't asked questions of him either, which was nice.
Stepping out into the afternoon, Tom watched the departing bus that would have taken him to the college for his class. Last night, his decision had been made. Still, it had taken him lengthy considering to come to accords. Sitting at the edge of a pier, he had watched the blackness of night ebb into shades of grey before he had resigned himself.
Leaving in the opposite direction of his bus, Tom started walking.
The storybook perfection of the stone cottage they came to beyond the village took Alex by surprise with its window boxes and little blue shutters. "You know people who live here?" She asked Hal, who had paused at the gate.
Just beyond was an organized garden, raised beds in rows with crushed seashell gravel between. Shears and soft leather gardening gloves had been left on a weeding stool.
The gate creaked pleasantly when Hal opened it, "Apparently, I do," he replied, eying the leather gloves.
The path to the door led through the garden and was the same worn stone as the house, with a lush ground cover growing in between. Blue star creeper, Alex recalled as they passed. Her mother's favorite.
At Hal's use of the heavy brass door knocker, there were the sounds of movement inside. Behind the flicker of a lace curtain Alex caught a flash of a pale face, dark hair. The door was swung open by a young girl. Apparently, Hal didn't know her anymore than she knew him. She peered at the two of them suspiciously. From the back, a young man's voice called, "If it's those Bible peddling know-it-alls again they can suck my dick!"
Hal rolled his eyes. The voice confirmed they were indeed at the correct house. Alex was just startled.
"What do you want?" the girl asked them rather rudely.
"Adam Jacobs, if he has a moment."
"Adam!" the girl turned and hollered with a booming bark. Then she glanced back at Alex. "I know what he is, but what are you?"
Before Alex could answer, another teenager, wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron and an annoyed expression, came down the hall. At the sight of Hal his young face lit up with a wide grin.
"Well shit the bed. If it isn't the Queen Mother!" Adam elbowed the girl aside. Alex couldn't fathom how Hal had possibly come to know this brazen youth.
"You seem well," Hal stated.
"Yeah, yeah. Come in. You gonna introduce me to hot stuff there?" he asked as they followed him inside.
"Adam, Alex," Hal obliged. With emphasis, he added, "My girlfriend." Alex was shocked. Hal had never actually called her that.
"Alright, my man!" Adam exclaimed, then pointed at the girl next to him, who was already rolling her eyes. "This is Christa. Not my girlfriend."
Christa whacked him with her magazine. "That's because you're married nitwit." Only then did Alex realize that they both had addressed her. They could see her. Adam must be a vampire, she realized with a start. God, what a horrible thing, to be stuck permanently as a teenager. And she thought Hetty had it bad…
Clipped heels could be heard approaching, and an attractive, middle-aged woman joined them in the foyer. She was wearing a flour-covered apron over a stiff pressed tweed skirt. Something in the way she carried herself reminded Alex of Mary Poppins. Her eyes lit up with a warm smile.
"Hal! What a surprise," she greeted, brightly. "What on earth has brought you up here?" After asking, she quickly shook her head. "Never mind. You're nearly in time for supper. Will you be staying?" Without leaving room to answer, she stepped forward and held out a hand to Alex, "Yvonne Bradshaw my dear."
Alex shook it, somewhat confused that this woman could see her as well as the other two. Were they all vampires? "Alex Millar," she introduced herself.
"Oh! You're a ghost," Yvonne noted. "I'm learning to tell, as it were," she stated to Hal.
"Apologies for the intrusion, but this was an unexpected sojourn," Hal stated, hiding the way they had truly arrived, then looked down at himself. "And there has been a malady of travel."
"He fell off the dinghy," Alex added to corroborate his story. He gave her a very brief look of irritation.
"Oh," Yvonne raised an eyebrow but tactfully changed the subject. "You must be staying at The Barn?"
Hal looked absolutely appalled at the suggestion. "Uh, no. We were going to head to Harris tonight."
Yvonne momentarily looked confused. "To Leverburgh? That's impossible, unless you'll be sailing your dinghy." Hal's expression flickered briefly, exposing Alex's lie. "You're missing the last ferry as we speak." At their perplexed looks Yvonne continued, "The just switched to the Fall schedule I'm afraid. There's only two crossings now, as of yesterday."
"Of course. I meant tomorrow. We have one more -"
"You'll stay with us," Yvonne declared brusquely.
"Thank you for the offer, but we really must be -"
"I insist. I don't know what state of affairs brought you here like this, but we wouldn't be ones to judge. We owe you the same kindness after all. I'll whip up another brioche."
"Trust me. Anything she whips up is worth it," Adam made an obscene gesture that Yvonne was completely nonplussed by.
"Get you!" Alex chuckled, amused by this uncouth young man.
Yvonne scrutinized Hal, taking in his damp clothes and wet boots. "Something of Adam's will have to suffice until we can get you washed and dried. Adam?"
Adam was twitching his eyebrow at Alex rather lewdly but looked back to Hal. "Sure thing. Hey - how's the blob?" Adam asked as he started down the corridor and Yvonne returned to the kitchen. Christa was looking between Hal & Alex, realization dawning on her face.
"You're the vampire they stayed with in Barry. You're like him," Christa motioned to Adam who paused. "Off the blood."
Hal nodded, glad to evade Adam's question about Eve, and removed his wet boots. Once they could return home, he'd have to clean the leather thoroughly to be rid of the salt water treatment. Until then he would be stuck with unpleasantly damp shoes, which was a thoroughly horrid thought. Christa cocked her head at him as he unlaced his boots entirely in a woeful attempt at more air circulation.
"You really don't look that old. Huh. Fucking vampires," she swore then wandered off.
Adam rolled his eyes, "Don't mind her. She gets cranky this close to her monthlies. It's like PMS on steroids around here." He motioned for them to follow. Judging by the comment, Alex then realized that Christa must be a werewolf. Hal didn't seem fazed so he must have already sensed it, just as the young girl could immediately tell what he was. Alex wasn't as well equipped to distinguish between supernatural types.
Adam started giving them a brief tour. "Right, here be the bath. Down there's Christa's room. Don't go in there if you value your life."
"I heard that," Christa's voice came muffled from the living room.
"There's towels in here," Adam, unperturbed, pointed to a cupboard. Beyond it was a slender stairway leading up, and beyond that, another bedroom door at the end of the hall. "I'll be right back with a change-o." He gave Alex a debonair eye, "Any requests, gorgeous? I've got chaps."
Alex's eyes went wide and she quickly tried to cover her guffaw with her hand.
Hal just covered his eyes, wincing at Adam's behavior. He shouldn't be surprised really. "Why don't you see if Yvonne would like help in the kitchen? I won't be long." Hal offered Alex the suggestion to avoid subjecting her to Adam while he cleaned up.
Adam shrugged and left to fetch some spare clothes. Alex chuckled with total amusement, "I can't believe he stayed with you and lived." Hal opened the cupboard and selected a towel with a sigh. She noticed he was moving rather stiffly, "You sure you're alright?"
"I will be better after I remove the bits of sand from uncomfortable places."
"And you're certain you want to stay here? I may be able to jump us across as long as I can see where I'm going."
Hal looked completely appalled at the thought. "I'd rather not again so soon, honestly," he said, cringing somewhat. "Waiting until morning is just as well. It is not as if we were expected."
"Here you go," Adam emerged from the back bedroom, closing the door behind him. He offered a stacked bundle of clothing to Hal. It all looked fairly standard so Hal took it. Not wearing someone else's clothing really should be on his list. But since soggy trousers soaked in saltwater were even more unbearable, he would make do for a few hours.
"What were you doing in a dinghy anyway? Looking for mermaids?" Adam asked then chuckled at his own joke. "We can toss yours in the wash. Maybe Alex can bring it out," Adam winked at her.
"You're permanently gantin!" Alex blurted, finally just stating the obvious.
"I've no idea what you just called me, but I guarantee I've been called worse. Probably by Christa. C'mon. Let's leave the man to his bath and you can tell me all about dating a relic. Does he read you poetry? "
Alex gave one backwards glance to Hal in the doorway. He just shook his head, but Alex caught a glint of a half smile as he closed the door.
The walk wasn't far for one such as Tom, who had grown up accustomed to traversing long trails. He enjoyed the stroll that took him along the waterfront and down past the docks. It was the same route he had traveled the night prior, when everything had changed. While he walked, Tom recalled the chance encounter that hadn't been chance at all.
Irving hadn't yet been a werewolf a year. He was a little older than Tom, but still hadn't quite grown into his skin. Due to his slight build and easy-going character, his pack had decided he would be the most disarming of them with which to make introductions.
At first, Tom had tried to outrun him. It hadn't taken long for the wind to shift, carrying the scent of the werewolf in pursuit. Tom probably would have sensed him sooner if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his troubles.
"Tom McNair!" his pursuer had finally shouted, growing breathless.
Tom slowed, then stopped, abruptly wheeling to confront the stranger. In a fit of recklessness, his anger still brewing under the surface, Tom growled out in challenge, "Who wants ta' know?"
As the figure approached, stepping out of the darkness, Tom could see the hint of scars peeking out from under his collar. He was young, sandy haired and red faced.
Halting a safe distance away, the other werewolf caught his breath. "And I'm s'posed to be one of our fair runners. They were right about you," he stated with a heavy Irish accent. "Irving O'Meara. Pleasure," and he gave a little salute.
"Who were right?"
"My pack, Mr. McNair. They want to meet you."
Tom's heart had given a little flutter of excitement. He and McNair had been looking for "The Pack" for as long as he could rightly remember. But Tom was still cautious. "Why would your pack have any interest in me?"
"Because," Irving looked rather surprised, like Tom should already know. "You're famous, 'tis why. Now, we're all actually not too far from here."
"That's grand, but... why should I trust you?"
"Ah, no reason I s'ppose. I be knowing we mean ye no harm, but you won't be knowing that there." Irving shrugged his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels. "Are you not the least bit curious? We certainly are 'bout you. I mean - to be turned as just a wee lad? There's none like it. There's stories bout you, and your Da."
"Stories? 'Bout me?" Tom asked incredulously.
"Aye! 'Bout your hunts. It really true that you took out that whole nest of vampires back in Cardiff last year?"
Irving really did seem to know. Tom just shrugged though, neither confirming nor denying.
"Look, we be camped at the caravan park just up yonder. It's open, public space. Plenty of other folk about. Why don't you come by, see for yourself? Share a story or two 'round the fire?"
Admittedly, Tom had been more than curious. In the end, his curiosity won and he had followed Irving to his camp. What harm could there be in meeting a few werewolves?
*The Barn is an actual, real life "luxury" holiday rental on Grimsay. Looks rather nice.
*For those who did not already do a Google, "gantin" is Scottish slang for horny.
