The MacGregor (7 page)

Douglas pushed his way to the bar, a great slab of concrete resting on old steel girders, and looked at her enquiringly.

‘Whisky, please,' she said, mainly because it was the only drink she knew.

The barman nodded and poured a couple of shots. Douglas handed her one. Megan thanked him, but felt uncomfortable as he handed over a wad of cash. For the first time in her life she felt a desire for money. A commodity she'd never needed before. As she followed Douglas across the wood shaving strewn floor, she wondered how she could acquire some.

They sat down on a squashy old sofa that threatened to swallow them whole. She took a sip and looked around. Everyone else was deep in conversation, but she noticed several pairs of eyes checking them out.

Finally, a handsome blond man broke away from his pack and came over. Megan was mesmerised. He might be pure human but he was gorgeous! Dressed in tight black leather pants and a leather vest his glorious physique was displayed with little left to the imagination. Indeed, Megan had to struggle to keep her eyes off his bulging crotch. Perhaps she was turning into a sex maniac.

Her level of excitement rocketed to ten on the Richter scale as he smiled lazily, showing perfect teeth and wicked blue eyes. His golden hair was held back in a perfect ponytail which emphasised his hawk-like nose and the arrogant jut of his chin.

‘May I?' he asked politely.

Megan managed to nod, but to her surprise noticed that Douglas seemed uncomfortable. For a moment she wondered if she were wrong about Douglas. Maybe he did fancy her, after all.

The man settled down on the seat opposite and observed them both with unrepentant directness. But then he leaned forward a little and his eyes seemed to pin Douglas to his seat like a moth on a board.

‘It's been a while, Candy,' he said softly.

Douglas finally met his gaze. ‘Sure has, Dino.'

The man was still for a moment. ‘So…'

Candy chucked his whisky down his throat and slammed the glass down on the table so hard that Megan winced. ‘So…mine'll be a double. And Megan will have the same.'

Dino grinned, leant over the table, reached out and gently ran a finger down Douglas' cheek. ‘Don't go away,' he said softly.

When he'd gone there was an awkward silence as Megan struggled to absorb the situation. Finally she swallowed her drink and turned to Douglas. ‘So…you're…gay?'

Douglas shrugged. ‘Guess so.'

Megan sat back. A gay werewolf? That was novel. At least it explained why Douglas didn't fancy her. She looked at Douglas. ‘Does your father know?'

Douglas shook his head. ‘No.' He observed her closely. ‘Will you tell him?'

Megan shook her head violently. ‘No! Why would I? None of my business.'

Douglas smiled. ‘Thanks, Megan. I'd like to tell him, but I don't think he'd get it. You know?'

Megan glanced at the bar to the broad back of Dino. ‘No, perhaps not.'

‘What do you think of him?'

She grinned. ‘I was kind of hoping he swung both ways.'

Douglas laughed. ‘'Fraid not. Still, there's plenty here who like the Eve. Do you want me to introduce you?'

And then she recalled the moment in the stable yard: the brilliant blue of his eyes, the thrust of his dimpled chin, and the mouth-watering proportions of his frame. And she decided that if Douglas could be gay, then she could be off the scale too. She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but no thanks,' she said.

After all, what harm could it do?

For a moment Sean had to consider the possibility that this was all a dream. After all, it was highly unlikely that he'd really encounter a coven in the bottom paddock.

‘Stop it, Nancy!' said Lydia, who turned to Sean. ‘Take no notice, Sean, she's just winding you up.'

Sean looked from one to the other and let out a hoot of laughter. ‘What is it with you two? How do you know my name?'

Lydia bent down to stroke Salem. ‘Sarah told us all about you.'

All about him? Well, that would have been a short story. Still, he was curious. ‘What did Sarah tell you?'

Nancy came and stood beside Lydia, her expression sombre. ‘Sean, she told us that you had the gift.'

Sean was none the wiser. ‘Gift? What gift? Gift of the gab?' he hazarded.

Nancy nodded. ‘In a way. You see, Sarah sensed that you are a…poet. Or, perhaps bard would be more accurate.'

Sean blew a raspberry of contempt. Poet! What a crock of crap. ‘Listen lady, no disrespect to Sarah, but you've got it all wrong. Look, I can read and write, but I'm kinda slow. Not so great with the whole book thing.'

Lydia leaned towards him, her dark eyes bright in the moonlight. ‘Sean, Sarah was quite sure. But she said it was all locked away. You just need to let in the light.'

Sean backed away. They were barmy. He'd best be off. ‘Well. Ladies, it's been a pleasure, but I must be going. Don't catch a chill now.'

And he turned and strode across the dewy meadow.

‘Sean, wait! What about the dreams? Do you think you can contain them with whisky forever?'

He stopped dead as a cold finger ran down his spine. How the hell could they know about the dreams? The whisky, he could understand. But not the dreams.

Slowly he stalled, stopped and turned around. ‘How do you know about the dreams?'

Nancy stepped forward. ‘Sarah heard you. She said that they were consuming you and that we must help you.'

Sean was flustered. Help him? He didn't need help.
Did he?
The dreams faded in the waking hours and it was easy to forget. At least, it used to be easy. Now — not so much. ‘Help me how?'

‘We have a potion,' said Nancy.

Sean was not inclined to laugh any more. There was a dignity in the woman's words and honesty in her expression. ‘What, like a magic potion?' He couldn't believe he'd asked that.

‘Yes,' said Nancy. ‘It's a hallucinogenic. It will open up the ancient pathways, if you are indeed one of the Olde.'

Sean was intrigued. ‘And if I'm not?'

Lydia and Nancy exchanged puzzled looks. ‘Mmm,' said Lydia, ‘no idea, really. Probably won't kill you though.'

Sean bristled. ‘Probably won't kill me! Oh, thanks! That's so reassuring. Maybe it will just reduce me to a babbling idiot,' he said scathingly.

Lydia nodded. ‘Possible. But not probable.'

Sean glared at her. ‘You're not really very good at the whole sales end of the scheme, are you?'

Nancy shook her head. ‘No, we're not. But Sarah was. She sold you to us. We believe.'

And in that moment Sean felt his whole belief system waver and wobble. He was finally forced to face the truth he'd been running and hiding from forever.
There was something strange about him.
Something odd. Often he thought that he was mad, perhaps. A schizophrenic. Or something else equally scary. And he thought about his way with the horses. Some would say that it was a gift. A kind of magic. So why not something more?

He looked around the familiar landscape, at the silvery mist haze in the dell and the feathery fingers of the trees against the sky. The wind softly stroked his face and the water chattered cheerfully in his ears. He took in a deep breath of the mountain air.

‘OK,' he said. ‘I'll play along. But I'm not getting naked.'

The two women exchanged looks of relief and nodded.

‘Come into the circle,' said Lydia.

Sean did as she bid. He waited as Nancy lit the fire. He expected them to put a cauldron on to boil, but instead Lydia pulled a flask out of the carpetbag.

‘What, no dancing and waving of wands?' he said, only half-joking.

Nancy shook her head. ‘No, we have performed the rituals already. The circle and fire are for protection.'

Nancy held out the flask and offered it to Sean. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed it, sniffed it and took a deep swallow.

He cried out and dropped the flask, his hands going to his throat. It was truly disgusting. It burned and tasted like goat's piss. His hands started to feel hot and then to tingle. He lifted them up to eye level and looked at each extremity carefully. At the palms, the backs, and finally all ten digits.

And to his surprise, they began to speak.

Megan wasn't sure that she altogether liked the Jackal and Hide, but she did love to dance. It was a novel and uplifting experience to let the music pour into her and over her and just give it up. To sink into the maelstrom and to feel so alive.

She danced alone and she danced with others. One young man with cropped red hair sought her out twice. He had tawny eyes with flecks of gold, and the body of a hardworking man. She enjoyed his attention, and felt his heat. He danced really well, with supple grace and strength. She toyed with the idea of taking him into a dim corner but dismissed it. He was definitely attractive. But as the hours ticked by she found herself anticipating the moment of departure. She had promises to keep.

Thirst brought her off the stage. She wiggled her way through the crowd and jumped to the lower floor. Whisky was nice, but water was what she needed. And then she thought about the river that ran like a silver ribbon through the valley at Sean's home. It would be lovely to catch up the clear water in her hands and drink with nothing but the sound of his soft breathing in her ear. An intense wave of lust washed over her.

As she headed back to the clubhouse she spotted Douglas and Dino. They were kissing. Megan glanced around to see if their behaviour evoked a response from any quarter, but people were pretty much wrapped up in themselves. And suddenly she felt a spike of jealousy over the pair. Why, she wanted to be doing some kissing. And she knew exactly who it was that she wanted to be doing it with.

Perhaps Douglas felt her avid stare, for he broke away and glanced at her. He said something softly to Dino and the pair walked over to her, hand in hand.

Douglas smiled at her. ‘You had enough?'

Megan felt guilty then at spoiling their night. ‘No,' she lied, ‘I'm good.'

But she missed his response as someone started to scream. It was a high-pitched howl of pain. Megan looked around to try to find the source of the sound. A crowd gathered outside one of the high-rise container blocks. People swarmed over to take a look. Megan followed Douglas and Dino but couldn't see for the mob. But she could clearly hear the sound of a fist fight.

The crowd reared back as a body flew through the air. A girl landed at Megan's feet. She was small and slight, with clothes that were fit for the garbage bin. Her thin face was feral with fury, her eyes burning like fossil fuel.

Megan went to offer a hand when a large man shoved his way through the crowd. The girl hissed and leapt up like a panther and charged at the man, who stood head and shoulders higher and was built like a bulldozer. They connected with a dull thud, but the girl came off second best. He picked her up with a meaty hand and shook her like a rat.

‘Keep out, you dirty little bitch, or I'll kill you.'

Megan looked around, horrified by the scene. Was anyone going to do something? But the onlookers seemed unmoved; some were positively amused. Megan felt a familiar hard knot form in her chest. She hated bullies. Without thought to the consequences she spiralled down into the darkness. She shook her head to clear her mind. ‘Let her go!'

The man took no notice, dropped the girl onto the floor and delivered a vicious kick to her kidneys.

Megan launched herself into the air, feet first. The sharp crack of his nose thrilled Megan. He yelled and put his hands instinctively to the source of his discomfort. Megan landed, stepped up and pressed in close against his gut. Her fingers found his nuts and she gripped them. Hard.

‘Pick on someone your own size, you cherry cheesecake,' she growled in his ear. And released him. She turned to the girl and bent over her body. The girl sat up, looked around, her limbs trembling, her eyes skittering like fireflies. And in a trice she was gone.

The crowd was silent, except for the wet breathing of her bloody-nosed victim. Douglas shouldered his way through the crowd. ‘Come on, let's get out of here.' Dino hovered protectively at his side.

Megan nodded and followed him to the exit. Outside it seemed quiet and still. The buzz began to wear off and in minutes she was herself once more.

Douglas gazed at her, the light of respect shining in his eyes. ‘How can you do that? The moon's not full for weeks!'

Megan shrugged. ‘Just a freak of nature, I guess.'

Dino grinned and Douglas roared with laughter. ‘Megan, that was legendary. What else can you do?'

But Megan wasn't inclined to answer that. Not yet. ‘Douglas, will you drop me off somewhere on the way home?'

He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘After that — anything.'

Back on the bike she relaxed and settled in for the journey. It had been a big night. But it wasn't over yet.

Sean awoke, opened his eyes and let out a strangled cry, which choked off into a curse when he realised the faces that hovered over him belonged to Lydia and Nancy. They both retreated but still watched him with anxious eyes.

‘Sean, are you all right?' asked Nancy.

Sean wasn't sure. He sat up slowly and blinked. The night was cool, mist curled and crept over the meadow, the moon hung like a fat slice of lemon in an inky sky, and Salem sat watching him with wide eyes. Everything was as it should be. Nothing was different. Which didn't seem right, somehow.

He shivered violently. And looked down. And let out a yelp of indignation. What the hell? He glared at the two women whose lips twitched suspiciously.

‘Where the hell are my clothes?' he spat.

‘There, there, don't warp your wand. Everything's in hand. I'll just get them for you,' said Lydia in a voice that Sean felt she would usually reserve for infants and handicapped puppies.