Chapter Four Friends
Ian Fenclan is built along the same lines as Duncan, but he’s green, bearded, his silver-streaked hair is in a braid, and his wide mouth has tusks.
He’s accompanied by someone who looks like she stepped out of an Arthurian legend, a willowy woman in a pale cream dress, flowing silver-blonde hair, with a basket cradled over one arm.
“My wife, Farrah, wanted to come and meet the lodgers. You must be June?”
“I’m June, yes. Thank you for coming.” I hesitantly put my hand out, feeling as though I’m sticking it into a lion’s mouth when I wait for this massive, imposing figure to shake it.
But Mr. Fenclan grasps it warmly, gives it a pump, and then turns to guide his wife to me, putting his arm around her with such possessive pride that it makes me think they’re just newlyweds.
“We were just coming back from having supper with our son and daughter-in-law. Our children own The Pine Loft Coffee Shop in town. They sent you some muffins.” She smiles and holds out the basket.
Kids old enough to own a business.
Not newlyweds.
“Where’s your guest, lass?” Mr. Fenclan asks, and I don’t know what Daniel was talking about. His voice is gravelly but easy to understand, and after Duncan’s straight outta Scotland brogue, my ears are used to it.
“He’s just coming.”
As if on cue, Duncan walks out of the house and across the porch.
In the moonlight and shadows, I realize how fucking terrifying he seems.
Mr. Fenclan gasps. “What’s this?” he half-whispers.
“I am Duncan, of Clan Mackintosh. Are you of Clan Fenclan?”
“By thunder, yes!”
And then it’s a monster ex-pat reunion, with hands clasped and loud voices flying. Duncan and Ian pound each other on the shoulder, speaking a mile a minute. Their accents grow thicker by the second, and I’m pretty sure some of the things they’re saying aren’t in English.
Farrah comes over to me. “We didn’t realize you were conversant with the paranormal,” she says in her soothing, soft voice.
“I wasn’t, until my ex-boyfriend’s garden statue burst out of its box and almost gave me a heart attack,” I explain.
Duncan stops speaking abruptly, eyes turning to me. “What? Are you well, Lady June?”
“I am very well, and you can just call me June.”
Duncan snorts, glares, and crosses his arms. He doesn’t argue out loud, but his whole body language just said, “Try and stop me.”
“Nay, lass, he’ll not do that. He tells me your man bought his castle and sent him here to guard you.”
“Ah. No, that’s the sanitized ‘wishful thinking’ version of events. My ex cheated on me and had no idea what Duncan was. Can you help him get home? Or at least get him a kilt?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll get Genesis here in a heartbeat.”
“Genesis? Like the Bible?” I ask, confused.
“Genesis Davidson, a gargoyle of Clan Davidson, with plenty of clan back home. If any of Clan Mackintosh survived, his mother ought to know. As for the kilt... Farrah, love?”
“Yes, it would be easier that way.” Farrah Fenclan nods, smiles, and starts whispering and weaving her fingers through the air—and Duncan’s kilt weaves itself back together, brighter, sharper, and mercifully more decent.
“H-how?” I whisper, but I already know.
Magic.
“I think Lady June needs to recline. She seems faint,” Duncan says, rushing to my side, picking me up, and cradling me like a sleepy toddler, my legs over his arm, my head on his shoulder as he strides into the house.
Again. What is it with this guy?
It’s not that I don’t appreciate the chivalry and protectiveness—I actually find that super sweet when it’s with a romantic partner, but right now, all it does is remind me that I was fooled into being soft once, and I’ll never let myself be soft again.
LADY JUNE RETIRES TO her chamber with her “laptop,” but Ian and his wife stay, and Genesis and his human bride soon arrive.
That’s right. A gargoyle married to a human.
One hears of such things, of course, but it was never done in my clan, and I doubt my clan chieftains would ever have approved.
The advantage of being gobsmacked is that I have time to be silent and listen.
Pine Ridge is a haven in America for monsters and “paranormal” creatures.
Humans can no more see us here than anywhere else, but there are more humans here who’ve had their eyes opened.
The town is friendly, they tell me, and people and monsters both have invested in the community, living and working in the heart of it as shopkeepers with little flats and homes, or out in the surrounding mountains and hills.
“You’re welcome to stay. You and your Lady June,” Ian Fenclan offers.
I almost say she is not my lady—but she is. Mine to protect.
“Your clan will be rejoicing at your recovery,” Genesis chimes in, “but things have changed in Scotland, not just for the gargoyles, but for the humans, too. The economy has been rocky, with thousands out of work and refusing to look for jobs. The people in the cities are becoming shiftless and rely on handouts. Very few clans survive strictly by guarding ancestral homes. It’s common to find more of our kind on the islands, the Hebrides, and the Highlands. ”
“Aye, landsmen, crofters, farmers, loggers, fishermen—and some do fancy things in the cities and offices. My son-in-law is an accountant,” Ian says proudly. “He used to work for a big airline, but now he does the books and whatnot for the coffee shop, and he’s a free-lance consultant.”
“My cousin runs a dance and music arts center,” Genesis says, rolling his eyes.
“I’m a carver myself—stone. After all, I have an endless supply.
” He winks, then sighs. “The point is, there’s likely going to be a lot of changes for you, here or back home.
If you’ve a mind to go home, we’ll find a way to get you there when your wing is healed enough to fly partway, or we’ll get you on a plane. ”
“Airplane,” I repeat the word and think of the vacation commercials I have seen, with the huge white flying machine and the crystal blue waters, and the girls in bibinis? Biknis? Bikinis!
Shocking.
But attractive.
There’s something different about the women in this world, this time.
At least the ones I’ve seen, all three of them.
I look at Melinda and Farrah, who are chatting away in the kitchen, slicing up muffins and spreading them with butter.
They dress differently, act differently, and perhaps they have more warrior spirit, too, like Lady June.
If they did not, I cannot imagine them ever marrying outside of their kind.
I cannot imagine any of the old lairds’ wives or daughters daring such a scandalous, shocking thing.
I swallow hard, a piece of blueberry muffin (heavenly, light thing) going down along with my sudden guilt.
I know full well there is something beyond curiosity that catches my eye when I look at Lady June, even though I try to tell myself it is just the new circumstances I find myself in.
In my old life, I was rarely this close to human women, and we never spoke at length.
For one thing, most were to be inside before darkness fell, and a gargoyle’s place was on the outside, eyes scanning for intruders, bandits, and marauding rival clans—not that there were any great battles and dangers like there were in my great-grandparents’ time.
I certainly never saw any human woman as I have seen Lady June.
In only two nights, I know that I have never worried over a human as I have worried over Lady June. It’s enough so that I don’t leap at the chance to return home.
“If you’re worried about flying and turning to stone by day, there are ships where you stay in your own cabin. It takes longer, but perhaps you’d feel safer?”
“I don’t fear the airplanes.” (That’s a wee lie for a start.) “I’m sorry, I was only thinking that I must see if my clan needs me, or if they are even still in our old territory, then I will decide how best to return.
But what of Lady June? Her man made the arrangements to hire your lodge for the summer, and now he’s betrayed her.
She is bereft and without attendants.” I turn to Ian Fenclan with a scowl on my face, wishing I could meet this Daniel of hers and show him how gargoyles treat traitors and betrayers.
Ian crosses his arms. “Aye, he did, and he has. But he’s paid upfront, and I’ll not give him a penny back. There’s a lodger here, and she isn’t keen to leave from what I’ve seen. If he comes along, I’ll tell him first-come, first-served. He’ll not put her out on our watch.”
I nod, and a familiar warmth lights in my chest. “Not on our watch.” Genesis and Ian aren’t from my clan, but they quickly make me feel as though I have allies in this strange new world.
“Let me call my mother, and in minutes, I’ll probably have half your family on the call.”
“How?” I ask wonderingly.
“I’m willing to bet your folk have phones now,” Ian says with a chuckle. “Man, I cannae imagine waking up after a century and finding everything is different. I’d be off my head. How’re you doing it?”
My eyes shift to the chamber down the hall. “I have been well cared for and given a job to do. I must protect Lady June. I’ll not have anyone saying Clan Mackintosh is full of scoundrels just because the new laird is shite.”
Ian and Genesis exchange a look and an amused smile.
“You know, I think you’d like Pine Ridge.
If your clan has scattered, or rather, if they’ve moved about and stay in touch by modern marvels like phone and internet these days, you might settle here.
Our clans are always connected and able to get in touch in a moment. ”
I shake my head, marveling. “Honestly?”
“Watch.” Genesis pulls out one of those little flat boxes that Lady June says is a telephone, taps two buttons, and in seconds, his mother’s voice is coming through as plain as if she were beside him.
“Hello, Ma. Do we still know anyone from Clan Mackintosh?”
His mother’s exasperation sounds the same as my mother’s used to, and it makes my eyes sting suddenly.