Scarlet Vamporium: Vamporium #2 (13 page)

He pops the lid off, shoveling ma biscuits intae his mouth, and I swallow, reading the message tae him. The edited version of course.

“Ye'll meet Ellindt's auntie Selene at the Games.”

*

Ellindt:

Staring at the pressed ceiling of my bedroom, counting the squares, my reverie is broken when my door opens.

“Can I come in?”

Ellindt
.

“Whatever,” I grumble, folding my arms to hide the tension surging through me.

Padding across the thick carpet, Selene sits next to me on my spacious bed. “I'm sorry about all that. I'll talk to him for you. A week isn't long enough.”

Ellindt
.

“I've already used up two days. It's not fair!” Sitting up, I scowl at her. “Why are other supernaturals allowed a lifetime and I'm only given five measly days to earn redemption? That's impossible and he knows it!”

She stares at her bare feet, then at my closet, and finally back at me; her eyes sorrowful. “Why did you bring Doug here?”

Ellindt
.

“It was innocent. He wanted to invite you to the Highland Games tomorrow. His friend Roderick is competing and he thought it might be nice if we all go.”

Ellindt
.

Slamming my hands over my ears I wriggle off the bed, twirling, looking at the corners, the crags, the dark and dangerous shadows, searching for the freak who keeps saying my name. Ignoring it isn't working and it's making me nuts!

“Ellie? What's the matter?” Selene leaps off my bed as if it's a dragon's snout heating with flame.

“Who is that? Make it stop!”

“Make what stop?” she demands, glaring with now brilliant eyes into the same corners I just investigated.

“I keep hearing my name, it's freaking me out!”

Much to my disgust Selene bursts out laughing, collapses on my bed and drums her feet in frivolous hilarity.

“What is so freaking funny!? This is horrid!”

Rolling onto her tummy, propping her chin in her hands, she tilts her head and smiles her gorgeous smile at me, “You kissed him, didn't you?”

“Duh! I kinda think that would be obvious.”

“That's why. You can hear him when he says your name. He's obviously talking about you.”

What?

The thought of him talking about me actually makes me smug. “How do you know he's talking about me?”

“You'll get better at this as you mature. When you're my age you can hear any thought you want, but at your young age you only pick up the summons of the people you've shared body fluids with. You kissed him and so now you hear when he says your name. It's because you're half angel that it happens. You're now the guardian of a human... Douglas. You have a bond, and it will last until one of you dies.”

Slapping her leg, she stands again, “Damn it! We forgot to give him shortbread!” Instantly she has a sorbet yellow tin in her hands, closes her eyes, and the vessel vanishes. “There. They're in his car. Hopefully he'll find them when he gets home.”

“So are we going tomorrow? He wants to leave at six in the morning so I'd better text him and let him know soon.”

Looking like an imp, she gives me her plotting smirk, “As I'm your guardian, your uptight uncle can't be upset if you go out in public and I'm with you. At least then if something happens I can take the blame. I'm going to help you Ellie, so yes. Text him and tell him we'll go in my car, and all he has to do is call you loudly in his head when he's ready for us to fetch him.”

“Six is damn early.”

“We don't need the sleep, he does. It starts around about eight if memory serves me well. Tell him to call then,” she says.

Excitement is mushrooming through my body like napalm.

I have five days and I'm going to make them count! Leaping back over the bed I snatch my phone up and immediately start typing to him, thrilled I have an ally against the tyranny of Uncle Venix.

Pressing send, I hear my name again...

Ellindt
.

I'm sure on someone's mind, and it gives me a secret thrill.

Chapter 14

Douglas:

Roddie left ages ago and I cannae sit still. This is beyond weird. There's a cairn stacked in my stomach with nerves, and I stop pacing tae stare at ma humble gift again.

What am I daeing? That bajin with the evil eyes is still chasing down ma thoughts and I dinnae think I want another run in with him.

Sitting down, resting my elbows on my knees and staring at the worn carpet between my feet, I consider calling it off. But then I think of her, and I cannae fer the life of me imagine never seeing her again. I dinnae want tae imagine never again running my thumb over skin soft as marshmallows.

*

Ellindt:

Waiting on the steps outside the front door, I watch the early morning haze cling to the vales, the sky above clear and pale.

Spying the two empty beer bottles still sitting on the terrace, I pick them up, harnessing my power to transform them, balancing them on my palms, picturing what I want them to be.

When I reopen my eyes the Skull Splitter bottles have morphed into glass fish, strung together to make wind chimes. There, now I'll always have something to treasure from my first meeting with Doug. A piece of our history will forever be with me. Brown fish from the umber glass to represent my first brown trout catch. Now that I think about it, the recycled glass is perfect.

Willing them upstairs into my bedroom, I wish I could hang them outside my window already. Every time they chime it will make me think of him.

I hope he calls. He might not. I wouldn't blame him if he started running and never stops.

Venix, Arelstin, and Zarak, are out to ruin my life for me, and I'm truly beginning to resent them. Why do I have to have a male warden and a male guardian? I should be here with Selene.

“I'll tell you why,” says softly behind me, and I turn to watch Selene stand straight out of her slouch against the doorframe to come and sit next to me on the steps. “Because my angel, you are female. There are so few of us left. I'm sure you haven't missed the minor detail that you have three brothers. Three to one are not good odds. We are rare creatures, and as the vampyre families are headed by their lady-folk, they need to keep you safe. One day your family will need you to lead them, to protect the men, to offer their consorts immortality, and until then you're going to have Arelstin shadowing your life.”

“But they've probably sent Doug charging away from me. It was going so damn well too.”

She pats my leg, giving me an understanding smile, “There'll be others.”

“I don't want others! I want Douglas MacLeod!”

Ellindt!

Bounding into a stand and down the steps, I turn to share my excited smile with her.

“And he obviously feels the same way about you or he wouldn't have called. Go. I'll be here waiting,” she says.

I don't need telling twice, closing my eyes and thinking of him, following his voice still vibrating the energy between dimensions.

“Oh good, yer here. Keep yer eyes closed,” purrs in a deep male baritone while I'm accosted with unfamiliar scents.

Smiling, waiting, I do as he asked and keep my eyes closed. I can smell furniture polish and flooring which is steeped in years of bruised knees and carpet burns. A clock ticks loudly somewhere nearby, and I can smell him. Cedar and spruce mingle, the perfect cocktail of cologne and shampoo... and freshly laundered cotton.

Hmmm!

Something soft traces my face and a new fragrance joins the collection.

“Can ye guess what it is?” he says softly, and I can tell by his tone he's suppressing a laugh.

I bet right now he's smiling.

“Nope, not a clue.” Inhaling deeply, it smells like a freesia warmed by frangipani, wrapped up in the delicious bouquet of spring's first rainbow.

“Open yer eyes,” whispers in my ear.

His breath skates bumps down my neck, tickling my pores all the way to my toes.

Opening my eyes, I'm met with the sight of a pink paintbrush. It's a flower with a powder puff head, wide and round.

He offers it to me. “The god's are smilin' on me because these beauties don't usually blossom this late. I found one quite by accident when I went tae get the fish out of the smoker. I stole it.”

“You stole a flower for me?” I find that infinitely romantic.

“Aye, dinnae tell my Maw if ye ever cross over an' meet her.”

“What is it?” I pry, automatically burying my nose in the big blossom, breathing in the fantastic fragrance. It's unique, and so pretty I wish they'd make perfume with it.

“A thistle. It's our national flo'er.”

“I can see why, it smells intoxicating. Like... mmm, a slice of heaven's garden.”

“Och! Ye make me proud, Ellie,” he says with a broad smile, obviously pleased his present has been so well received. “If one weed belongs in heaven, this would be it.”

What he could never know is no one has ever given me a flower before. He's my first. I have a soul deep suspicion he's going to be my first at a lot of things.

Twirling the slender petals across my lips, hiding my smile, I love that the flower is not quite pink and not quite purple. It's so me!

“Thank you!” I whisper, unexpected tears gilding my eyes.

“What did I do? Och pet, I dinnae mean tae make ye cry.”

Now I feel terrible, but it works in my favor because I'm immediately locked in a sturdy embrace, his strong fingers slowly caressing my spine.

“Oh Doug...” Taking a gulp of composure, I look up, using gravity to stall the tears, “I love it. It's the best gift in the world.”

“Really? I dinnae mean tae upset ye. That was the last thing I wanted tae dae.”

“It's just... it's precious. I'll treasure it forever. Thank you.” Standing on tiptoes, careful not to crush my thistle, I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing tight, and giving him a kiss that communicates what this means to me.

His hold tightens, making breathing laborious, but I love it. It's fabulous! Maybe it's called the highlands because here everyone is so close to God they're near perfect.

Ellindt, we need to go sugar!

Selene's summons ruins the intimacy of my moment, and I lower off tiptoes, reluctantly withdrawing, “We have to go. I'm being nagged by the ether.”

He gives me a concerned stare, “What are we doing exactly?”

“I'm taking you home to the manor, and Selene will transport all three of us to the Dunoon Stadium. If anyone asks, we went in her car.”

Inhaling so hard his shoulders lift up, he nods, “Okay.”

*

The stadium is just like any other sport's arena. I don't know what I was expecting but I guess I thought it would look more exotic than it does.

It's really quite funny that Doug is walking with Selene hooked to his left arm and me to his right, being an attentive tour guide and chaperone.

Pipes resonate through the air, along with primal drumming which mirrors the heartbeats of the hyped up participants.

“And here we ha'e the first rounds of the dancin',” says Doug, pausing with us a fair distance from a platform where four girls in tartan skirts prance around.

Choking down my laugh, I watch them, terrified I'm about to insult his patriotic pride.

When someone says dancing I picture the grace of a waltz, the fun of the two step, or the sexy shimmying of the ramba... not
this
. It's like dancing with a gunshot wound to the leg when desperately hopping like you need a pee, all while airing your armpits.

Suddenly they all bounce up with legs splayed like they have pinched their pubic hair in the elastic of their panties, leaping as if they're trying to free their nether regions from pain.

Looking away to hide my amusement I survey the battalions of men walking around in tartan skirts. There are hundreds of them. Mingling between are commoners in jeans and sweatshirts, but mostly the men here are burly, strong, or old and sedate, proud looking dudes, fierce and serious, all in traditional dress with smart black jackets and white shirts.

Looking back at the dancers, trying to appreciate four girls thumping a platform around two swords laid out in a cross on the ground, I wonder if that's how they used to fight. I imagine two week old armpit sweat, before the days of deodorant, would be enough to frighten the opposition away from a sword fight.

Alright men, everyone jump like we're being attacked by termites and waft your smelly scent around.

Giggling softly, I examine their dress. Pretty girlie kilts are topped with lovely velvet jackets, and I must admit the girls here are way better looking than the crew that were at the party Doug took me to. They're wearing kilt matching Aryll socks and laced dancer's shoes. There are even blond blue eyed ladies up there.

“Why're ye laffin'?” murmurs in my ear.

Looking guiltily at him, I scramble. “You should move to Dunoon. The girls are much prettier here.”

“Aye, the cream of the crop show up fer this event.”

Selene smiles at me from behind Doug's shoulder, obviously having heard my thoughts on the dancing. I give her a quick grin, letting Doug lead us away.

Strolling past a group of men with bagpipes clamped under their arms and tubes sticking out like a bird's crest, the noise is horrific. It sounds like the dying wail of a ship when the mast has broken and the vessel creaks and groans while being crushed by a tsunami.

It's so ghastly it could curdle milk three regions over.

“Good lord,” I grumble, tempted to block my ears.

“They ha'e tae fill the bag with air before they can play. That's what is sounds like when they prepare the pipes. Dinnae worrae, it disnae last long.”

Staring away, I'm almost swallowed in a stampede of men dressed in identical outfits. Dark green and blue pleated skirts stomp around me in hairy legs and long socks. As they gander past I note each and every one of them has a knife in his sock and a pelt pouch hanging in front of the crown jewels like a protective sport's cup.