Fire on the Island (16 page)

"You must
engage him. Alastore. That is his seal—the evil eye—inside your
signa
. I
wish like hell I could fight this fight for ye, m'love, but as a
praeda
,
you have the best chance of anyone to face him.

"He will
torment you, try and trick you into coming to him. He can't physically hurt you
until Samhain, when the veil is lifted—he must wait until then t' try and break
free. But he can gain power, possess people, animals, and they
can
hurt
you. And he can come after those ye love," she added, cutting her gaze to
Jeremiah and back.

"Can Isla
fight him, trap him, whatever, before Samhain?"

Mhairi shook
her head sadly. "No. She can only defend."

Jeremiah
clenched his fist where it lay on his knee, but said nothing.

"Ye've
found your
feradux
." It wasn't a question.

"Yes,
Marduk. He revealed himself to us yesterday." Her mouth quirked up into a
smile. "Went to bed with an injured wolf in the house, woke up to a naked
boy in the living room. Very disconcerting. Especially for Jeremiah."

Mhairi
chuckled, then grew serious once again. "Let him help you." She
looked at Jeremiah pointedly. "Both of you. He can teach you how to defend
yourself, how to harness your power. Somethin' I wish I could have been there
t' do."

Dashing away an
errant tear, Isla kissed her grandmother's cheek. "I have you now, and I'm
grateful for that."

They all
flinched when the door creaked open loudly to reveal Dr. MacLaren's wrinkled
face. "Time's up. The patient needs rest."

Jeremiah rose,
took Isla's hand, and they turned to leave.

"I'd like
a word with my granddaughter. Alone, please." Three pairs of eyes turned
to Dr. MacLaren. He scowled, but nodded shortly.

"Two
minutes. Dr. Rousseau and I will wait in the hall.

Effectively
dismissed, Jeremiah followed the old man outside to wait. When they were alone,
Mhairi motioned to Isla to come closer, and Isla could see that her eyes had
become glassy and unfocused. She gave Isla a dreamy smile "He's a nice
young man."

"Yes,"
Isla said, smiling. "Yes, he is."

"
Bruixi
mate for life, Isla. If he's the one, your fates are intertwined. Always have
been. Something led him here. If he's the one, you'll know."

Thinking they
may have passed the point of lucidity, Isla just nodded and gave Mhairi a quick
hug. "I'll come see you again soon." Mhairi smiled sadly, and Isla
got the feeling she didn't believe her.

As she turned to
leave, Mhairi touched Isla's hand lightly, and Isla looked back. Mhairi's eyes
were wide and unseeing, pupils dilated. "The blood is the key."

"What?"

"
Vincere
Alastore. The blood is key." Rolling away from Isla, Mhairi lay on her
side, facing the wall. Heaving a sad sigh, Isla quietly left the room.

The afternoon
sun radiated from a crisp, clear blue sky. Isla turned her face up to the warm
September breeze and sighed deeply.

"You
okay?" Jeremiah asked as they walked hand in hand.

She nodded,
smiling toward him. "I will be."

"What'd
she say, after I left? You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to,"
he added when a thin line creased the skin between her brows.

"No, I
want to. I'm just not sure what she meant. What does
vincere
mean?"

"To
defeat," he supplied.

"Well,
then she said 'to defeat Alastore, the blood is key.’"

Raking a hand
through his hair, Jere looked pensive for a moment, and then just shook his
head. "Not sure what to make of it. I guess she was just elaborating on
the idea that you may be able to do more damage to him because
you’re...well...related to him." He gave her a sympathetic smile.

She was unsure
of whether or not to tell Jeremiah what else Mhairi had said, but her thoughts
were interrupted by the jangling of her cell phone from her purse.

"What?
Some people's phones just ring," she said when he cocked an eyebrow at
her. Checking the caller ID, she flicked a worried glance toward him.
"It's Chief Sinclair. I wonder what he needs."

Hitting the
send button, Isla answered warily. "Hi, Chief. What's goin' on?"

"Evenin'
Isla. I wish I had a happier reason t'be callin' you, but I need your help.
Someone else has gone missin'."

"God,"
Isla breathed, closing her eyes briefly and causing Jeremiah to look at her
sharply. Clicking a button on the side of her phone, she put him on speaker.
"Chief, I've got you on speaker. Jeremiah's here too. Tell me what
happened."

Heaving a
ragged sigh, the older man cleared his throat. "Myra Frasier's boy, Rory.
He took off yesterday with some neighborhood kids to go fishin' in Lamlash and
he didn't come home last night. The other boys made it back, but when Myra
called around, they said they had parted ways at the Glenashdale trailhead when
they came back down. No one seems to know what happened."

"That's
horrible! Myra must be beside herself," Isla said sympathetically.
"Of course I'll help track. Where’s the rendezvous point?"

When the chief
hesitated, Isla looked at Jeremiah, frowning. "Chief?"

"Yeah, I'm
here. Listen, I need you to work on this one by yerself. Rory's been missing
barely twenty-four hours, so there won't be an official search on until
tomorrow."

Sure that there
was something he wasn't saying, her stomach knotted in apprehension. Another
brief glance at Jeremiah's tense face told her he was having a similar thought.

Nervously
clearing his throat again, the chief continued. "That's not all. There's
been some...talk...around town."

Of course there
was, Isla thought. "What kind of talk?"

"Everyone's
nervous, after the first disappearance ended the way it did. I'm not sayin'
they have any right to be, mind you. I was there when you came back down from
Gleann
Dubh
. I saw how traumatized you were."

"Get to
the point, Sinclair," Jeremiah growled. Isla could tell that Jeremiah was
losing patience by the muscle twitching in his jaw.

"Uh, yes.
Well, you see, some of the townspeople are talking about how both those kids
killed themselves when you were there, Isla. You seemed to be the common factor
in those scenarios, and that's got everyone rattled. Some of the more…outspoken
people have hinted that you might even be involved somehow."

"You have
got
to be kidding me!" Jeremiah exclaimed, seething.

Hurt flashed
through her at the implication, but she kept calm for Jeremiah's sake. He was
mad enough for the both of them.

"Oi, now
listen, I didn't say I agreed with them! I'm just telling you because the other
folks are refusing to search with you. But I know you're the best, and I just want
to find the boy. So I'm asking if you'll still help me out with this, go solo
this time."

"I'll do
it—for Rory—and damn the talk. I just hate that they can't see past their own
superstitions to realize that the only ones they are hurting are the Frasiers."

"Thank
you," he said sincerely. "You're good as gold. Can you meet me at the
station in an hour?"

"We're in
Glasgow so it will be just over that. I'm going to want Callum and Jack on this
too. They know the terrain better than anyone."

"You got it.
See you soon."

After hanging
up, Isla turned to him with her chin lifted. "Let's go, we have a kid to
find."

Jeremiah's
heart stuttered a bit, a feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, and he
was staggered by how overwhelming his feelings were for her after such a short
time. The woman had more bravery in her little finger than any of those crazy
bastards on the island.

He smoldered
with fury when he thought of the things they were saying about her, but if she
could push past it, he sure as hell would too. Opening the passenger side door
of the rental car, he gestured for her to get in.

They remained
quiet on the drive back to the dock, each lost in their own thoughts, but both
wondering if this would just be a case of a mischievous boy getting lost, or if
he was just another pawn in Alastore's twisted game.

Chapter
Fourteen

They met Chief
Sinclair at the Strathclyde Police Station in Lamlash just over an hour later,
along with Callum and Jack, who Isla had called on the drive back to Ardrossan.

The nearly
hundred-year-old structure looked more like a cottage than a municipal
building, with its whitewashed brick face and neatly kept lawn, but such were
most places on the island.

Gathering in a
small conference room adjacent to the chief's office, the five of them took
seats at a scratched wooden table that was probably as old as the building.
Though most of them knew Rory Frasier, Sinclair passed around a picture for
Jeremiah's benefit.

Smiling
gratefully, he studied the image of the boy's smiling face. He was a cute kid,
from his strawberry-blond hair that stood out at all angles from his head, to
his sparkling, kelly green eyes and charming smattering of freckles across his
cheeks.

"Rory
Frasier, age eleven," Sinclair began. "Last seen by his friends at
roughly two in the afternoon at the Glenashedale trailhead, where they parted
ways. I figure you should follow the trail to the falls, see if you pick up
anything from there."

Looking
thoughtful, Isla shook her head. "No, if they went fishing, they probably
followed the river up to the base. Maybe he saw something, went back to check
it out."

"That's a
good point," Jack chimed in.

"Why don't
Jack and I take the trail to the top and, Isla, you and Jeremiah can travel
upriver. We'll have two ways in case either pair finds something," Callum
suggested.

"Sounds
like a plan." Sinclair handed them each a fully charged radio, and they
all clicked over to channel two. They decided to dash off to their respective
houses to collect their gear and meet at the trailhead in a half hour.

As September
rolled in, the weather had begun to cool, so when the group converged at the
mouth of the trail in Whiting Bay, they were all dressed similarly in cargo
pants and long sleeved thermal shirts.

Lifting worried
eyes to the sky, Isla seemed to measure the angry grey clouds rolling in.
"I think we should meet back here by six. The weather may turn soon."

Callum nodded,
and he and Jack set out on the steep, upward incline of the trail to the top of
Glenashedale, while Isla motioned Jeremiah to follow her to the right, into the
dense woods. Finding the river, they followed almost due west.

Jeremiah
studied the flow of the river, as it snaked in a slow curve over smooth rocks
and fallen tree trunks. While it was fast moving with excess water from the
recent storms, it wasn't rapids by any stretch of the imagination. A boy Rory's
age who had grown up fishing on the island would have known how to handle
himself on the bank. Unless he had run into something—or someone—he couldn't
handle.

When Isla
quickened her steps, he could tell she was no longer merely following the path
of the river but had picked up a trail somehow. She moved at a brisk clip, and
Jeremiah found himself struggling to keep up.

Slowing, she
lifted her face, sniffed the air, and looked back at him. "I was right. He
came this way. After he left his friends," she turned sorrowful eyes to
Jere's face, "but he wasn't alone."

Gut clenching,
Jeremiah fell into step behind her again, nearly at a run this time. He almost
fell face first into a shallow rock pool after tripping over a hidden tree
root, and he forced himself to be more careful. As the land to either side of
the dark artery of water began to ascend, they could hear the sound of the
roaring of the falls filling the silence. Dread filled him when, rising above
the din of pounding water, was the unmistakable sound of crying. Sobbing, in
fact.

No longer
needing a tracker when he had his own ears to rely on, Jere surged ahead of Isla,
feet pounding on the densely packed forest floor, leaping over obstacles.
Knowing Isla was right on his heels, matching him stride for stride, filled him
with urgency.

Suddenly, the
thick tree line cleared and the river widened, and just feet ahead of him was
the cloud of mist that surrounded the pool of water at the base of the falls,
generated by the hammering fall of water from the cliff a hundred feet above
their heads.

Stopping so
abruptly that Isla nearly collided with the back of him, he searched the dim
clearing for the source of the sobs. Frustrated, he saw nothing at first, and
then he saw a flash of red in his periphery.

To his horror,
Jeremiah glimpsed Rory standing at the edge of a jutting outcrop about twenty
feet above the churning water, his back to them. A squeak of surprise from
behind told him that Isla had seen it too.

His heart leapt
into his throat when he saw the boy take a step back, then another, causing
pebbles to come tumbling down from the shelf of rock. Slowly, the shape of a
woman emerged from the shady curtain of trees just beyond Rory.

Hair ragged,
clothes torn, the woman stalked toward the boy with the single-minded focus of
a predator. Even from their vantage point from below, they could see the wild
look in her opaque eyes.

"Shit,"
Jeremiah whispered. "He's got the woman, not the boy."

Isla nodded,
knowing exactly who
he
was. "That's Penny. She works the checkout
at the Co-Op," she said, referring to the local grocery store in Brodick.

Turning a
stricken face to Jeremiah, Isla shook her head furiously. "This can't
happen again. We have to do something!"

"If we try
to climb up there, she'll push him off before we make it."

"I know
it," she said sadly. They turned in unison when movement behind them drew
their attention. Marduk approached them cautiously from the tree line, his eyes
flicking back and forth between them and the bluff.

Moving to stand
just behind them, he spoke in a whisper. "Isla, I know you've just started
discovering your powers, but you are going to have to try to stop her. It's the
only hope that boy has."

"What do I
do?!"

"Reach out
with your mind, try and isolate Alastore's energy. Push at it, like the
spoon."

Seeing the
crazed woman move closer to Rory, Isla gave a jerky nod. Flanked by the two
men, she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. As Marduk had taught her,
she put up her mental barriers by imagining herself at the top of the mountain,
alone.

When she felt
the prickle of power start to roll under her skin, she allowed her thoughts to
focus on Penny. Drifting outside of herself, in her mind's eye she stood in
front of the woman on the bluff. The entity that had a strangle hold on Penny's
mind danced above her like an eerie spectre, glaring at Isla with its pale,
shadowy eyes.

Suddenly unbearably
angry, Isla felt a flush of energy rush down her arms, into her hands, and down
to her fingertips. Not quite sure exactly what she thought would happen, she
raised her hands, palms out, and imagined herself pushing at the air around the
spirit.

She had been
prepared for movement—some sort of action like what had happened with the
spoon. The bluish-white flames that leapt from her fingers out to the creature
like cloud-to-cloud lightning were definitely unexpected.

When the flames
licked over the shadowy figure, it let out an inhuman screech and dissipated
into thin air. After giving one final lunge at the boy, Penny's eyes rolled
back in her head, and she collapsed onto the moss-covered rock.

The next few
seconds seem to unfold in slow motion. As Penny went down, Isla's consciousness
slammed back into her body so hard, she fell to her knees—exactly the same time
that Rory lost his footing on the ledge and tumbled backwards into the churning
water below.

 Seeing
the streak of red from Rory's jacket as he plummeted, Jeremiah strained to find
where he hit the water. Looking back at Isla who was kneeling on the ground,
gulping in huge gasping breaths, he was torn between the woman who owned his
heart, and the little boy struggling to keep his head above water.

Still shaking
and seemingly unable to speak, Isla turned blazing eyes to his face and mouthed
the word "go." Nodding once, he kicked off his shoes and shrugged out
of his windbreaker. Leaving her in the capable care of Marduk, Jere dove
headlong into the deep pool at the foot of the falls.

While the river
wasn't overly wild, the weight of the hundred foot column of water hitting the
pool below caused a surprising downward current that threatened to pull him
under. It took all of his strength to keep himself above water and the little
bobbing blond head in his view.

Just as he got
within feet of Rory, the head disappeared. "Damn it!" he shouted over
the cacophony of water beating down on him. Taking a deep breath, he submerged
himself in the cold, murky water.

The water was
so dark, it was nearly black, so he had to grope blindly with his hands,
scraping his knuckles on rocks as he searched for any sign of the boy.
Struggling to hold his breath, Jeremiah began to see spots in his field of
vision from lack of oxygen. Just when he thought he would have to resurface for
air, his fingers brushed against what felt like an arm.

Grabbing a
tight hold, he fought his way to the surface, pulling the boy with him. Lungs
burning, he struggled to swim back to the bank one handed, his other arm
wrapped around Rory's torso. He breathed a shuddering sigh of relief when he
finally clawed his way to the water's edge and collapsed on his back, chest
heaving.

Jeremiah noted
Marduk fading back into the trees as Isla knelt beside Rory, who was now
furiously coughing up water from his lungs. Wrapping him in Jeremiah's
windbreaker, she rubbed the boy’s arms and wrapped herself around him.

Rory was
shivering and letting out little gasping sobs. Isla met Jeremiah's eyes over
the top of the boy's head, her relief and gratitude shining clearly in her own.

Once he caught
his breath, Jere reached for his discarded radio to call for help through
chattering teeth.

"Sinclair,
c-come in."

"Sinclair.
Go ahead."

"We've g-got
him. We got Rory. He's alive. Over."

"Thank
God. Where are you? Over."

"Down at
the base of the falls. Get someone here fast with blankets and dry clothes.
He's been in the water. He'll be hypothermic before too long. Over."

"Be there
as soon as we can. Hold tight. Over and out."

~~~

The next few
hours after the rescue passed in a blur of policemen, medics, difficult
questions and answers. Rory had been rushed to the hospital, but Jeremiah had
refused. Just needed to warm up, he'd said.

Isla drove them
back to her cabin, as Jeremiah appeared to be exhausted. Thinking he looked
just a little too pale and drawn, she motioned for him to sit on the couch
while she busied herself making a pot of tea.

Return to the
living room with a steaming mug in each hand, she nearly dropped them both when
she caught sight of Jeremiah. He was deathly pale with dark circles under his
eyes. Clutching at the quilt he had wrapped around himself, he shivered
violently, and Isla could hear his teeth chattering from where she stood.

"Jeremiah!
I think you're hypothermic. We need to get you warm!" Tugging him up from
the couch, she hooked an arm around his waist to help support his big,
shuddering body. She cast him a worried glance and saw that his eyes had a
glazed, vacant look to them, and his lips were faintly tinged with blue.

Isla scrolled
through all of her survival training she had been through before starting up
Expeditions. Somehow, now that it was someone she cared about, everything she
knew seemed to have flown out of her mind.

"We need
to get you in the shower," she said decisively. Guiding him into the
bathroom, she pushed him gently down to sit on the covered toilet. Placing the
mug of tea in his hands, she frowned when the liquid sloshed around from his
trembling as he tried to take a drink.

When he looked
up at her, his eyes were wide and unfocused. "I'm...I—"

"Don't try
and talk, love. Let's just get you in the shower." Setting the mug on the
marble countertop, she quickly helped him to undress and step under the
steaming flow of water. He let out a shuddering sigh when the heated spray hit
his chilled skin but just stood with his head hanging, droplets of water
dripping off of shaggy strands of hair to roll down his face.

Quickly
shedding her own clothes, Isla stepped in behind him and wrapped her arms
around him. "What can I do?" she asked.

Saying nothing,
he turned around and buried his face in the crook of her neck, strong arms
snaking around to clamp around her back as tense muscles shifted and bunched
with each shiver. "Feels like I'll never be warm again," he said,
voice slurring from the shivers.

"I knew I
should have made you go to the hospital."

He just held on
tight as his body quaked. Finally the water began to run cold, so Isla helped
him step out of the shower and wrapped him in a towel. She took his hand to
lead him into the bedroom, and he followed along numbly.