Chapter 33
ELENA PIERSON
Istand frozen in place, a huge smile stretching across my lips while watching Maren transform from seal to human.
And it’s a sight I doubt I’ll soon forget. The seal’s glossy silver spotted pelt seems to unfold from her, as if managed by a zipper. Her big tail turns to legs while she gets her bearings in Lachlan’s home.
She’s entirely dressed in cold weather gear underneath it, wearing a thick wool coat, brown pants, and boots to make up the ensemble, somehow completely dry under her sleek selkie pelt throughout her travels.
It’s amazing.
“Holy mother of the deep,” Maren gasps, her jaw nearly hitting the stone floor.
She drops her seal pelt onto a smooth rock by the inlet and stalks toward the shimmering pile, her dark hair tied back into a ponytail and her gaze as wide as dinner plates.
She picks up a gold coin and runs her fingers over it reverently.
“Lachlan, you bloody oversized tadpole, I thought you meant a couple of stray coins you managed to scrape together. This pile looks big enough that you could buy your own island with all of it.”
I walk over with an affectionate smile and offer Maren a quick and friendly hug. “It’s so good to see you again, and trust me, I literally had that exact reaction when I first saw it too.”
“There’s a lot more from where that came. The oceans are chock full of the stuff, almost as plentiful as the sands,” Lachlan says with a shrug of amusement.
“Good to see you too, Elena,” Maren says, shaking her head in downright disbelief as she steps back from the gold.
“Though I see you’ve definitely got your hands full with this stubborn relic.
” She turns back to laugh with a small smile turning at the corners of her lips, as she reaches into the deep pocket of her coat and pulls out in a thick, official looking manila envelope.
“Lucky for you, your favorite cousin is a genius and came prepared.”
She tosses the envelope onto the deck of the galleon, and Lachlan steps forward to carefully open it, sliding the contents into his big hand.
I lean in close to look over his arm as he pulls out a crisp and flawless replicated driver’s license bearing his face on a modern passport along with a sleek new debit card.
“It’s everything you need for the new world that you’re living in now,” Maren explains, taking another satisfied sip of her coffee.
“There’s an established credit history along with private bank accounts that won’t trigger any money laundering alerts, and ironclad paperwork.
As for the mountain of treasure, I brought a specialized containment charm in my pack and we can shrink the raw gold down into a handful of pebbles.
I can then smuggle it out in my pelt and the underground brokers I work with will then systematically deposit the cash directly into that brand new account over the next few weeks.
It’s completely untraceable, and you, my dear cousin, are now a law abiding citizen to anyone who may take a look. ”
I look from the plastic debit card in his palm up to Lachlan’s face, a profound sense of relief washing over his features, erasing the tension he’s been carrying all morning.
“Maren,” he says, his deep voice thick with genuine gratitude as he looks down at his new identity card. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
My heart swells as I gaze up at him and I step close, resting my hands against the thick wool of his jacket. “You can go and afford whatever you like from now on, no more Frank Stein cards now.”
“So long as he doesn’t go flashing his tail feathers at any of the locals,” Maren chimes and leans back against the ship deck. “Now that you have your own wealth and perfectly legal bank account, what’s the very first thing the Loch Ness Monster is going to buy?”
Lachlan looks down at me, a twinkle in his gaze as he slides his fingers into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “Our first purchase,” he says firmly, opening a travel application on the screen, “will be two flights to the United States to visit Elena’s homeland.”
He glances at the paper and the balance figure Maren provided, but with the enormous pile of gold behind us, he could easily rent a private plane to jet us across the Atlantic if he truly wanted to.
“Maren, a little signal boost if you don’t mind?”
Maren snaps her fingers and a purple shimmer rises in the air, and I watch as he smoothly navigates the phone, a look of concentration on his expression.
“Thank you cousin. First class will do nicely,” he adds with a chuckle and taps the screen to filter the options. “Do you see any of these that look like they’ll have enough legroom for me to sit for a long flight?” he asks, showing me the display.
I grin up at him. “Are you sure you’re ready to try and fly again?”
“Aye,” he says, pulling me flush against his side and kissing the top of my head.
“You followed me all the way here to my home. Now it’s my turn to follow you wherever you want to go, and we can see the world if you like, Elena, starting with America if we have to, but I’m going to be paying for every single mile myself. ”
Maren lets out a dramatic whistle. “Go ahead and book it before I start charging you all the exorbitant courier fees for moving all this gold back and forth. I may even need to make extra trips by the looks of it,” she says, glaring up at the pile.
Leaning over his arm, my breath warm against his neck, I watch his large fingers carefully navigate the digital buttons. As he enters the details for us, his brand new debit card, and hits the confirmation button, the phone gives a small, victorious chime.
“Alright, my flower, here’s hoping this won’t be the disaster the last plane ride we attempted was because otherwise, it’ll take us weeks to get you home,” he says, his tone worried.
I rub lightly at his arm in reassurance. “Don’t worry, Lachlan, it’s all going to be fine, and if the plane is cramped, we’ll simply get a different one. The flight attendants are going to love to see us coming.”
“Aye. It’ll be right as rain,” he says, smiling warmly down at me, making my stomach do tiny somersaults.
I bite my lip to keep from grinning like a fool. I hope everyone back home is ready to meet the Loch Ness monster.
Lachlan Macbeth
I’ve traversed the treacherous pitch black depths of the oceans, battled ancient sea serpents, and survived centuries of freezing isolation, but nothing can prepare me for the suffocating terror of a modern international airport terminal.
Memories of the disastrous attempt to fly has panic clawing at my throat, and standing with my shoulders touching the airport metal detector gates, I’m acutely aware of every lingering human stare today.
I keep my head down and my large hand shoved deep into the pockets of my jacket, my chest tight as I brace myself for a repeat performance, but the moment we step across the threshold of the aircraft, my defensive posture finally relaxes.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Macbeth,” a flight attendant murmurs with a polished and deferential smile, gesturing toward the forward cabin.
I let out a low rumble of surprise, the sound vibrating deep in my chest when instead of a cramped biscuit tin, an atmosphere of a high-end luxury sanctuary greets me.
The first class suite is entirely enclosed, boasting rich wood paneling, soft ambient lighting that mimics a warm sunset, and a massive leather seat that looks more like an opulent armchair you’d find in an upscale gentleman’s club rather than an airplane.
“See,” Elena whispers, stepping into the private pod ahead of me and tossing her small carryon down onto the foot rest. She looks up at me, her gaze dancing with affection. “I promised you that there wouldn’t be any trouble and look, there’s way more room this time. No rushing to escape, right?”
I carefully lower my solid frame into the soft leather seat and tentatively press my back against the cushions, testing the structural integrity of the human craftsmanship, but it holds effortlessly.
I extend my legs fully and my boots barely brush the plush foot rest up opposite me, there are no plastic seat backs digging into my kneecaps, there are no strangers elbowing my ribs, and there are no suffocating walls closing in on me.
Elena looks soothingly comfortable across from me and everything is perfect.
“Aye,” I murmur, a slow, genuine smile breaking across my face as I run a calloused palm over the buttery leather armrest. “There’s plenty of leg room, my knees are safe, and we both should be comfortable for the long flight.”
“Can I offer you a glass of vintage champagne before takeoff, Sir?” a steward asks, appearing at the entrance of our suite with a silver tray in hand.
I look at the incredibly delicate and impossibly thin crystal flute holding the bubbling golden liquid. My thumbs could easily crush the stem without an ounce of effort. Why do they make them so bloody tiny?
“Just water for him, thank you,” Elena intervenes smoothly with a knowing wink and accepts the glass for herself before settling into her own adjacent pod just across the partition.
As the steward bows and retreats I discover a hidden console brimming with many different digital buttons.
I tap one carefully with the very tip of my index finger, and with a faint mechanical hum, a privacy divider glides upward and seals our two suites off into a private double room cabin away from the rest of the passengers.
Another push of a button causes my seat to smoothly recline and shift easily into a fully flat, plush bed.
The low, powerful thrum of a jet engine brings a sudden wave of familiarity, and I realize it isn’t so different from the deep and rhythmic vibrations of the loch’s currents during a heavy storm.
And when the massive aircraft begins its journey down the runway, I reach across the gap between our suites to find Elena’s hand and take it in mine.
“Off to the new world,” I say softly, my Scottish brogue thick, my tone heavy with wonder.
Elena squeezes my hand tightly as the force of the plane presses my body back into the leather and launches us high above the fluffy clouds, straight toward America.
Once we reach a nice cruising altitude, the cabin lights dim further and cast a cozy and intimate glow over our shared space. Our destination is fixed in my mind to a small town along the coast where Elena grew up. A world completely foreign to me in my misty Highlands.
“Are you getting excited to meet everyone?” Elena asks, her voice trailing off with a nervous and playful edge as she looks over the lower partition between our beds.
“You know my brothers have never met one of my boyfriends because I never had one before you, and all four of them are fiercely protective and very loud.”
I chuckle, the deep vibration echoing in the quiet suite. “I’m a monster of the deep, Elena. I think I can handle four human brothers, no matter how fiercely protective they claim to be.”
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she teases, settling back into her pillows. “They used to terrify most of the school bullies just by standing in the driveway, though they’re a bit shorter than you.”
Needing a distraction from the looming family introductions, I turn my attention to the big aircraft’s entertainment screen built into the walls of the pod’s suite, and try navigating the system with a few clumsy stumbles of my fingers.
But with Elena’s easy guidance, we manage to sync our screen so we can watch the same thing, and she picks an animated movie about a tiny forest creature lost in a large and sprawling city.
As the story unfolds, I find myself completely captivated by the bright visuals and the simple, yet heartwarming music. I press the button to adjust our seats into a comfortable lounging position before reaching across the divider so that Elena can rest her head against my arm.
The movie continues, and a soft smile pulls at my lips watching the tiny creature overcome its many obstacles.
It’s peaceful up here, miles above the ocean, sharing a simple and quiet moment with the woman who has changed my entire existence.
I squeeze her hand in mine, elated when she returns the gentle motion.
For the first time in centuries, the future doesn’t look like a dark and endless expanse of water. It’s warm, inviting, and entirely ours for the taking.