Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
S ilence fell over the car, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the gentle drizzle of rain on the roof. The gloom was pressing in even more, and what had started as a light mist of rain had thickened into fog — she hadn’t even noticed when Davey flicked on the headlights, she’d been so spellbound by his story. She was almost reluctant to speak, to break the spell — but something told her that it was her turn to speak, to prompt the telling of the next part of the tale.
“Was the curse ever broken?”
Davey smiled. “Oh, aye. Nobody’s sure quite how — some say a daughter or granddaughter of the witch found the strength to break the spell for good. Others say that once all the lost women had returned to their husbands, the curse simply lost its power and dissolved. Others say that there was no curse at all, that that story was made up to explain the kidnapping of a bunch of women by the Fae… but those tales might have to wait until the drive back, my lass. We’re only a few minutes from the Manor now.”
Lissa was almost disappointed to hear it — and surprised to learn that an hour-long drive had passed so quickly. She’d been enjoying the stories. There was something about this place that made her usual rational, practical approach to the world feel out of place. Maybe it was the jetlag, maybe it was the stress or the burnout, or maybe she was just a dumb American who’d fallen for the performance that the locals put on for gullible tourists like her. But so what? It was fun to look through the window through the fog at the forest they were driving through and imagine that there might be a witch’s cottage, just out of sight, where strange and powerful spells were being spoken into being…
In quite a different tone of voice than the one he’d used to weave his tale, Davey muttered a curse under his breath. Lissa came abruptly back to reality and noticed that the car was shuddering with the tell-tale imbalance of a flat tire. He clicked his tongue impatiently as he pulled the car over to the side of the road.
“My apologies, Miss Lissa. Seems the witches didn’t like me telling you all their secrets,” he said, his good humor clearly not easy to suppress for long. He hopped out of the car and headed around to the back, and Lissa followed suit, grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs. The rain had stopped, at least, though the fog was thicker than ever. Lissa took a deep breath of the cool air, then opened her eyes as Davey started wrestling a spare tire out of the boot.
“Can I help?” she offered, moving up beside him. “I’m good with cars.” It was always hard to judge how men would take offers of help from a woman, especially when it came to cars — when Davey waved her off, however, it was on the grounds that she was a paying customer, not her gender, which she appreciated.
“How d’you like the timing,” he said, shaking his head as he set up the jack beneath the car. “Another thirty seconds and we’d be in sight of the gates of the hotel.”
Lissa laughed. “That close, huh?”
“Look!” Davey laughed as he tapped his phone screen then held it up for her to see. Sure enough, there was their destination — and according to the app, they were a third of a mile from it. “That’s either an irritated witch or a mischievous fairy in action, I’d stake my life on it.”
“I might walk the rest of the way, then,” Lissa suggested, glancing up at the sky. “The rain’s stopped.”
The old man straightened up, frowning briefly. “Are you sure, lass? Won’t take more than ten minutes to get the tire sorted.”
“I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs a little. It was a long flight.”
“Long flights and long legs aren’t a good combination, that’s for certain. Well, at least let me bring your bags up to the manor — no sense putting your back out dragging those all the way along the road.”
She smiled to herself, a flash of her Army training coming to her. Would Davey believe that she’d once run miles every morning with a pack strapped to her back that was heavier than the suitcase in the back of his car? Amusing as it was, she decided against bringing it up. She hadn’t mentioned her military background even when she’d been telling him the story of how she’d come to Scotland in the first place, and it felt strange to bring it up now. Having overheard some English guys talking in disparaging tones about Americans in the airport, she’d been thinking that she didn’t want to contribute any more than necessary to international stereotypes about Americans all being obsessed with war and the military.
Besides, she wasn’t in the military any more. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to work in security any longer, either. Right now, standing in the middle of a Scottish forest with nothing but her backpack, Lissa didn’t want to have any kind of past at all. Why not take the opportunity to leave it all behind her, and start fresh? She thanked Davey for the offer and promised to meet him up at the hotel once the tire was sorted — and he asked, one last time, if she was sure she didn’t want to wait.
“If you’re sure you won’t accept any help with the tire,” she said, nodding at the spare still leaned up against the side of the car. Davey chuckled and shook his head, waving her away. “Alright, then. See you soon. And thanks for the story,” she added.
“Oh, my pleasure, lass. You’re a good listener. Thanks for indulging an old man’s fondness for fairytales.”
She smiled as she set off walking down the road, keeping to the side in case of any oncoming traffic — though she couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen another car. It did feel good to stretch her legs, and the brisk pace that had been drilled into her in the military quickly warmed her skin against the cool, damp air. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen fog this thick in the middle of the day — maybe visiting her dad in Maine? She paused by the side of the road to take a few photos to send through to him, smiling. He’d been emphatic in his insistence that she send him lots of photos of her trip. He’d claimed it was all down to curiosity, that they had some distant relatives who’d come from Scotland generations ago and he wanted to see if any ancestral memories stirred, but she had a suspicion that the ulterior motive was to make sure she was safe and well. She made sure to include a photo of herself, too, smiling in the fog — as much as she’d always hated taking selfies, she knew her dad would be glad to see her face.
Technology, of course, was not in her favor. Lissa grimaced down at the screen as the messaging app tried and failed to send the photo. Should’ve known better than to rely on getting a decent signal in the middle of a forest, she supposed. It’d have to wait until she connected to the hotel wifi. She put her phone back in her pocket and kept walking, eager now to finally set eyes on the hotel her drunk-self had chosen. That night already felt like it belonged to another life, another world. Lissa smiled to herself at the realization that she was actually, genuinely enjoying the trip so far. Something about Davey’s stories — and the warmth and welcome he’d offered her, too — had piqued her interest in this place, made her eager to learn more. She had two whole weeks ahead of her, and from what Davey had said, there were plenty of sites of historical interest within walking distance. Maybe she’d even check out the ruins of MacClaran Keep, where all those strange, Fae-touched women had lived with their husbands…
It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since she’d started walking, but Lissa found herself frowning as an odd, uneasy feeling swept over her. Shouldn’t she have reached the hotel by now? She’d seen the GPS herself — a third of a mile should’ve been a breeze to cover. She checked the clock on her phone, feeling oddly disoriented. She’d been walking for fifteen minutes. Even factoring in the break she’d taken to take photos that was more than enough time to have gotten her where she was going.
And then she realized where the uneasy feeling was coming from, the sensation that something wasn’t right. She’d been looking ahead into the thick fog, enjoying the way the trees came looming out of it as she walked — but when she looked down at the road beneath her feet, she felt a coldness settle in her stomach. The paved road was gone — there was only firmly packed dirt beneath her feet.
Had she managed to get turned around, somehow? How was that possible? She’d seen the map herself — there’d been nothing but a straight stretch of road between her and the hotel.
So how the hell had she gotten lost?