Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Faelan
Afew weeks passed in a flash. I hadn’t realized when I’d bought the vet practice that it was one of the only practices in the region, nor that there would be a demand for care for everything from livestock to fish.
Each night I collapsed into bed, exhausted, promising myself I’d hire an assistant soon, before sleep claimed me.
I hadn’t heard or seen Dr. Luch Carmichael since he’d left my practice that day, Oban curled in his arms, suspicion draping his face.
And I was fine with that. For a few days after the visit, I’d been on edge, jumpy, but the chaos of running a practice on my own had finally demanded my attention and I’d shoved any worries about Dr. Carmichael far into the recesses of my brain.
Except for at night, that is.
The witching hour.
The time I woke each night didn’t escape me, nor the gentle nudges my mother was trying to send me from the other side of the veil. It was just that I, quite frankly, didn’t have the time or energy for Dr. Carmichael.
Even though I’d googled him over one hurried lunch hour recently.
I’d eaten my sandwich standing at the kitchen counter in my flat, and had scrolled my phone, discovering that Luch worked at the hospital about thirty minutes outside of Loren Brae.
He was an emergency physician and had a very appealing headshot on their website.
Aside from a few nods to his esteemed degrees, there hadn’t been much more information that I could find about him.
At the very least, it likely meant that Oban was in good hands and hopefully had healed up nicely from his accident.
I’d carried the bruises of his healing on my bum and thigh for a solid week after the incident, moving gingerly through the day and sleeping on one side.
I was used to it by now, the cost of a hurried healing, and had a month’s supply of arnica creams and Tiger Balm tucked away in my cabinet.
But today, today was my first proper day off, and I was using it to get out in nature, before going to dinner at the castle tonight.
Lia, the chef at the castle restaurant, Grasshopper, had invited me to her Sunday “family” dinner and I figured it was a good way to finally meet some of the people of Loren Brae in one fell swoop.
I’d been meaning to build some connections, as I knew it would be vital to helping me stay here without suspicion, but I’d just been too busy.
I’d made a promise to Gloam that he could show me around some of his favorite haunts, and it was important to me to uphold that.
I got the sense that Gloam was itching for some playtime in the forest, as he’d been all but stuck to my side as I’d navigated the challenges of running my own clinic.
He didn’t come down to the practice during the day, instead disappearing into the woods or napping upstairs, but I knew he wanted more time with me.
We were still learning about each other, my familiar and me, and what better way to do that than to let him take me for a walk through the forest that blanketed the hills around Loch Mirren?
“I can see why you love it here.”
We’d been hiking for several hours, with no particular direction in mind, and I’d just trusted Gloam to lead me where he wanted to go.
Now, we’d stopped at a low stone wall which ran through a long line of tall trees and dipped and curved down the hills toward the shores of the loch.
Taking off my small pack, I dropped to the mossy ground and leaned my back against the wall, then pulled my water bottle out.
My muscles twinged, but in a good way, because even though I was on my feet all day at work, I hadn’t done any proper exercise for a while.
Digging in my pack, I pulled out a collapsible bowl, popped it open, and dashed a bit of water in it for Gloam.
Gloam sauntered over, lapping at the water, before curling up at my side, his eyes alert as he watched the land around us.
“It’s home.”
“How did you end up here, Gloam? Do you have family?” Reaching over, I scratched at his favorite spot behind his ears. I’d learned he didn’t like me touching his paws or his tail, but that he loved ear and tummy scratches and was a champion cuddler.
“I did. But it was time to follow my call. To find you.”
“You were old enough to leave?” I realized I had no idea how old Gloam was.
“I was. We tend to be solitary unless we’re mating and raising our young.”
“Do you want babies?”
Gloam made a soft chuffing noise, which I’d learned he did when he was amused at my line of questioning.
“We don’t think like that. If we find a mate, and the time is right, we’ll have kits. But it’s not a … yearning. Not in the way that humans think of it.”
“Is your whole family magickal? Or is it just you?” It had never occurred to me that there could be a whole line of magickal foxes just wandering around helping wayward witches and healers in need.
But once the idea had sunk its claws into my brain, I couldn’t help but think of some magickal academy for training familiars to meet with their witches.
“My father was as well. Not all of us. It’s a choice.”
“Ah, so there is an academy. Do you go to school for this?”
At that, Gloam rolled over on his back, letting out high-pitched yipping noises, his little body shaking with it.
“You’re laughing at me.”
“That’s because you think funny.” Gloam rolled back over and slanted me a look, smiling slyly at me. “It’s magick, Faelan of the flowers. Like you are. You’re either connected or not connected.”
His words echoed a sentiment my mother had often discussed.
She’d likened our power to source energy, a river of sorts, and one could just cup their hands and drink from it if they chose to do so.
I’d never not known magick, and it wasn’t a conscious thought anymore when or how I used my power. It just was.
“My mum often said the same.”
“She’s crossed over?”
“Aye.”
“Where were you before this? Why did I have so much trouble finding you?”
“You were looking for me?” I straightened, surprised at the thought that Gloam had known about me before I’d even arrived. “Did you plan to get hurt? Was that your way into meeting me?”
Another soft chuffing, and Gloam shifted, leaning into my thigh.
“No, I’d never intentionally hurt myself. An unlucky coincidence. But, aye, lass. I’ve been seeking you out for a while now. I’d catch your scent, but then you’d be gone.”
“I moved a lot.” I took another swig from my water bottle, my eyes going to where the late afternoon light filtered through the branches of the trees.
The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves, bringing with it the soft scent of dirt and moss.
Earthy smells. I took a deep inhale, feeling myself connecting to the energy that flowed beneath the ground here, and tension eased from my neck and shoulders.
“Turns out, people aren’t super friendly when they think you’re a witch. ”
“You are a witch.”
“I am. As was my mother. And her mother. And all the women before us. Healers by heart, magickal by nature.”
“Not everyone accepts that.”
“No.” I chuckled, threading my hand through the soft fur at Gloam’s neck. “That’s the truth of it, isn’t it?”
“Was it bad for you?” Gloam angled his head, and I deepened my scratches behind his ear.
“Single mum, child in tow. Questionable activities. Unexplained situations.” I closed my eyes, remembering my childhood’s instability.
Hard stares in the supermarket. Mothers tugging their children away from us.
Our magick was both a gift and a curse, and though it had made me a resilient child, it had also made me a lonely one.
“I made do. The best I could really. It’s all past now, anyway. Water under the bridge.”
Gloam jerked under my hand and, startled from my reverie, my eyes sprung open.
Holy hell … was I dreaming?
A unicorn ducked its head out from between the trunks of two massive trees, faintly glowing in the murky light of the forest, its eyes an incredible opalescence.
She was magnificent and my thoughts scrambled. Was I really seeing a unicorn?
My lungs tightened, as though I wouldn’t be able to draw my next breath, and Gloam stood, his head dipped low almost as if he was bowing to this majestic creature.
Tears pricked my eyes.
She trotted a few steps forward, tossing her mane, and angled her horn at me.
Having a mother as magickal as mine had made me privy to certain parts of this world unknown to many others, but this?
This was awe-inspiring. The unicorn’s coat shimmered, as though someone had crushed up thousands of diamonds and pearls together, and then painstakingly hand painted them across her flanks.
I brought a hand to my heart, hoping she could feel the power of my admiration for her, and gave her a gentle smile.
I’d worked around animals long enough to know to keep still, and to radiate as much goodwill and kindness as I could.
The unicorn trotted even closer, coming to a stop, her front hooves almost touching my feet.
“She’s hurt.”
My eyes rounded at Gloam’s words as the unicorn lifted her front hoof to me.
“May I see?” I asked, not daring to move until I had permission.
The unicorn dipped her head, nodding, and I scrambled forward until I was on my knees.
Reaching for her leg, I started as my hands touched her coat.
Her power was extraordinary. It was as though I was mainlining magick, attached directly to the source, and the power rocketed through me.
My hands shook as I curled her leg so I could have a proper look at her hoof, and I tried to stay focused on the task at hand.
No wonder unicorns hid themselves from the world.
They were too powerful, too majestic, for any human to truly harness their abilities. Frankly, this level of power would likely drive the uninitiated mad.