Fire on the Island (5 page)

Isla recognized
this as a submissive position, so she relaxed slightly. Quickly she reminded
herself of her vulnerable position alone out on the moor, and remaining here
would risk the depraved creature returning. As if coming to the same
conclusion, the wolf let out three short barks and a growl in her direction.

Not needing to
be told twice, Isla took off running in the direction she hoped was home.

Chapter
Six

Jeremiah sat
stretched out on the couch in the living room of his rented cottage, staring
out the window that looked out to the sea. He had his most prized possession, a
'72 Fender Telecaster Thinline guitar—gorgeous lady that she was—sitting on his
lap, and he was teasing out a run from Jonny Lang's
I Am
. Listening to
and playing the blues always reminded him of home and helped him clear his mind
when he was trying to puzzle something out.

And Isla
MacAllan was most definitely a puzzle. The woman was beautiful, ripped, and
clearly very good at her job. From what he could tell, she was also highly
intelligent and fiercely independent. The few friends that she had loved her
dearly and were highly protective of her.

So why would
she shy away from interacting with the locals? Why were they so unwelcoming to
her after she had been on the island for so long? Jeremiah couldn't help but
feel as though there was a piece he was missing.

Further thought
was cut off when his wailing ringtone clashed with the notes he was playing. He
carefully set aside his guitar, reached for his iPhone, and hit answer. "Hey
Drew, where y'at?"

"Hey
brother," Drew said. "I wanted to give you an update on these scans
you sent me."

Jere
immediately scrambled off the couch and searched for a notepad. "Hold on,
man, let me get something to write on." Finding what he was looking for,
he took a seat at the kitchen bar and put Drew on speaker. "Okay,
go."

"First of
all, it's definitely written in some form of Old Latin, but one I've never come
across before. I gotta tell ya, it's slow going."

"What do
you have so far?"

"Well, I
think you were right. I think this could indeed be a collection of oral myths
from ancient Latium. That in itself is incredible, but the subject matter
is...unusual."

Drew paused,
causing Jeremiah's pulse to speed up in anticipation. "What do you mean,
unusual?”

Jeremiah heard
him take a deep breath, as if preparing himself to deliver bad news.
"There are a lot of references to," Drew paused, "witches."

"Go
on," Jeremiah urged.

"What do
you mean, go on? I just told you we have an ancient text about witches, and all
you can say is 'Go on'? You—shit. You were expecting this, weren't you?"

Jere chuckled.
"I had hopes, but I didn't want to make assumptions," he said with a
smile in his voice. "I have seen that mark on the cover used in
conjunction with accounts of witches before.”

"I should
have known. You are the ghost doctor, after all. Not too much of a
stretch."

"Get to
the point, Drew."

"Alright,
take it easy. Like I said, I am unfamiliar with this dialect, but I have been
able to translate a few passages. They all center around this particular group
of witches called
Bruixi
. It is referred to as more of a race than a
coven, as if it's something they are born into rather than join."

 When
Jeremiah didn't comment, Drew said, "Aaaand you know this already,
too."

"Just bits
and pieces. I was hoping this book could give me some new information."

"There
is
something else," Drew continued. "Within the
Bruixi
race, there is a particular family lineage—they are described almost like
royalty in the passages—called the
Vigilati
. Roughly translated, it
means “Guardians.” While all of the
Bruixi
are supposedly born with the
power to use magic and manipulate the elements, the
Vigilati
are much
more powerful."

“This is
new," Jere interrupted. "I haven't come across this in any of my
research."

"The
Vigilati
are spoken of like they are some sort of
spirit warriors
—for lack of a
better translation. Supposedly throughout the world there were believed to be
gateways—called
Locuses
in the text—between the spirit world and the
human world. Sort of like the vortices we hear about with ghosts. They believed
in certain types of demons that would try and cross over through these gateways
when they gathered enough energy to become corporeal."

Jere began to feel
uneasy, though he couldn't explain it. "Where would they get this
energy?"

"The
Bruixi
believed that these demons, referred to as
auchrim
, would lure humans to
cross over to their side of the gateway, where they would drain their energy
and channel it to the strongest among them, the
Lochrim
."

"What does
that have to do with these
Vigilati
?" Jere asked, writing furiously
on his notepad.

"This is
where it starts to get interesting," Drew said, chuckling. "The
Vigilati
were bred with these special powers to keep the demons contained. Mainly they
just had to guard the
locus
to keep humans away. However, if a
Lochrim
manages to escape, it was the
vigile
guarding that particular gateway
who was charged with trapping the demon and sending it back."

"Couldn't
they kill it?"

"From what
I've read so far, it doesn't seem like any of them have that ability. Like I
said, I haven't gotten very far."

"No
worries, what you've given me already is great. I'll have much more to go on in
my research now. Can you email me your translations?"

"F'sure.
Hey, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"You
mentioned the symbol on the cover. I think I know what it is."

Jere sat up
straight, instantly at full attention. "What?"

"This
Vigilati
line apparently passes from grandmother to granddaughter. It was written that
each
vigile
has that brand—called a
signa
in the text—somewhere
on her body. Thing is, they're not born with it. It supposedly appears sometime
during early adolescence, around the same time they gain use of their
powers."

"That's
amazing, Drew. I can't wait to read the rest," Jere said. "Well, I
don't want to take up any more of your time. You've been such a big help—"

"Hey
Jere?"

"Yeah,
Drew?"

"Look, I'm
not sure I believe in all this
witches
and
demons
shit..."

"But?"

"Well, if
my grandmother is to be believed, demons are much worse than spirits. They can
actually harm you." Drew came from a big family of hardcore Catholics.
"Just be careful, man, hear?"

"Always,"
Jere said cheerfully, knowing Drew wouldn't believe it for a second.
"Thanks again."

~~~

It had been two
days since Isla had seen Jeremiah, not that she was counting. It was probably
for the best, anyway. She had been especially jumpy since her dream—or whatever
it was—the other night, and it was embarrassing. She got startled by the
silliest things, like Smitty jumping up on the back of the couch by her head or
Callum clapping her on the shoulder when she was busy working on the schedule.

She had come
back from her only tour of the day, a beginner's hike, had a quick climb in the
cave, and decided to try relaxing in the sauna. She hoped that the steamy heat
would unknot her tense muscles.

After ten
minutes, Isla caught herself nodding off, so she left the humid room to hit the
shower. She had slept precious little since the incident the other night,
almost afraid to let herself surrender consciousness. She had the most
disturbing feeling that her mind was no longer entirely her own. Because of the
lack of sleep, Isla had been jittery and snappish, even with her employees, and
dark circles bruised the area underneath her eyes.

Isla heaved a
shuddering sigh and stepped out of the shower to towel off. As she stared at her
drawn face in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. For the first time in
years, she truly wished she had someone to talk to. Someone who understood.

Jeremiah had
spent the last two days since their outing to the pub buried in research. He
had received the translations from Drew, and he had been so absorbed in them
that he sometimes even forgot to eat.

Finally
dragging his eyes away from his computer screen, Jere decided it was definitely
time for a break. He gathered his keys, phone, and a light jacket and jogged
out the front door. Hopping in the rental car, he debated with himself over
where to go, but when he pulled out onto the coastal road, he automatically
headed south to Lamlash.

When Jere
arrived at Expeditions, Callum was on his way out. The smaller man waved at
Jeremiah and walked over to meet him.

"How goes
the vacation, Doc?" he said, grinning.

Rolling his
eyes, Jere ignored the
doc
part. "Still working too damn
much."

"Can't get
away from it, eh?"

"Something
like that."

"Wish I could
stay, mate, but I got a hot date," Callum said, waggling his eyebrows
comically.

Jere chuckled.
"Oh, boy, does Jack know?"

"He'd
better, it's his treat! Hey, Isla's inside. Would you mind keeping her company
until she closes up? I hate it when she's here late by herself."

Since he had
been planning to do just that, Jere nodded and clapped Callum on the back.
"No problem. I can probably annoy her into leaving anyway," he said
with a wink, then turned to go inside.

"Jeremiah?"

"Yeah?"

"Do me a
favor and keep an eye on her, okay? She's been in a strange mood all day, but
she won't talk to me about it. I'm worried about her."

Frowning, Jere
nodded again. "Will do. Have a good night."

When they
parted ways, Jeremiah headed into the lobby of Expeditions and began to search
for Isla. He checked the cave first, and not finding her, he poked his head in
the breakroom. Still nothing. Finally he decided to check the locker room,
where he found her sitting on a bench with her back to him, brushing her hair
into long silky waves.

"Hey,
Isla, Callum told me to come on back. Hope you don't mind."

"Son of a
bitch!
"
she screamed, popping off the bench like a jack-in-the-box. She whirled around
to face him, assuming  a defensive stance and breathing heavily.
"Damn it, Jeremiah, you scared the holy hell out of me. I thought I was
alone."

"Clearly,"
he said, quirking an eyebrow at her, pretending to clear out his ear. "I
think I'm partially deaf now."

"Well,
what did you expect, sneaking up on a body like that?"

"I didn't
sneak! Why so jumpy?"

Her eyes darted
to the right and she bit her lip, sending a shot of heat straight to his groin.
Not wanting to embarrass himself, Jere studied the lockers just to the left of
her.

"I'm not
jumpy, I just wasn't expecting you." She didn't sound all that convincing.

Against his
better judgment, Jeremiah stepped closer. Bad idea, now he could smell her.
Hers was an intoxicating mixture of her mint shampoo, soap, and clean skin, and
Jere briefly closed his eyes before he spoke.

"I was
hoping you'd have dinner with me."

Her brow
furrowed and, to her credit, she at least pretended to think it over before she
turned him down.

"I'm
sorry, I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Why
not?"

"I try and
make it a habit not to date customers," she said, pushing past him to head
for the door.

"I'm not a
customer anymore. I want to hike, I'll hike by myself," he said, grinning
widely.

She gave a
weary sigh, and Jeremiah noticed how tired she looked, how her beautiful face
seemed more full of shadows than usual. "Look, I'm just not interested,
alright?"

Turning away
from him, she grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. In a lightning-quick
move, he grabbed her free hand and spun her around until she came chest to
chest with him. He snaked one arm around until his hand rested on the small of
her back, and he buried the other deep in her ebony curls. Ever so gently,
using his hand in her hair, he urged her to look up at him.

"Bullshit."
His mouth came down on hers surprisingly gently, considering the way he'd
grabbed her. He placed little kisses first on her upper lip, then her lower,
his tongue teasing at the corners.

Her hand came
to his chest and tensed to push him away, and she opened her mouth to protest. Taking
the opportunity presented to him, Jere slid his tongue inside her mouth, urging
her deeper into the kiss.

Finally, just
when he thought she might really push him away, she began kissing him back. The
hand on his chest relaxed, and her other hand slid around his waist. Groaning,
he pulled her closer, slanting his head to deepen the angle of the kiss.

Then, as
quickly as it started, he ended it with one last peck on her nose. Isla's eyes
opened slowly and she blinked, looking a little dazed.