Veiled Threat (3 page)

We were dangerously close to the Moncrieffe Lands here and it wouldn’t take Aifric long to realise that he’d failed yet again in his bid to kill me. All the same, none of us were in the mood for getting back on the road just yet. I, for one, needed a drink to calm me down. Adrenaline was still firing through me and making me twitchy. Speck looked like he was about to pass out. We could wait until morning before continuing on our way.

Bob made a good effort to keep up everyone’s spirits by jabbing light insults and flitting around us, but we were all shaken by what had just transpired. This was the second real attempt on my life – and there had been other half-hearted efforts too. It was a lot to take in. I was far from perfect but knowing there was someone out there who wanted me cold in the ground was definitely sobering. Especially when that someone was almost certainly the Steward. Even Brochan looked fed up.

‘I was an assassin, you know,’ I said, as we strolled towards the homely pub where we’d arranged to meet Chandra. ‘I used to make a killing.’

Brochan grunted.

‘Well, that’s great, Integrity,’ Speck said, his arms crossed as he marched alongside me. ‘When Tommy the Knock puts a contract out on me for destroying his pride and joy, it will be good to know that you’ll be around to joke with him about it afterwards.’

‘Don’t worry about Tommy the Knock. I’ll speak to him.’ Besides, I seriously doubted that the Fiat was his ‘pride and joy’.

‘This is a bad omen,’ Lexie said. ‘We’re not even at the Adair Lands yet and everything’s going to shit.’

‘You’re not looking at this properly.’ Taylor grinned. There was a lilt to his voice that put me on alert. ‘We just escaped a serious assassination attempt. I’d say that’s very a good omen indeed.’

I looked at Taylor then I looked around. By now, most of the high-street shops were shut and, this being a bitter Scottish February, it was already dark. Even so, there were people out on the street, mostly glammed up for a night on the town. I scanned each and every one of them. I didn’t recognise anyone but that meant nothing. I knew from Taylor’s expression that he’d spotted a way to gamble. Probably some old crony he’d spotted.

With a sinking feeling I cleared my throat. ‘You’re going to come to the ceilidh, right?’

He blinked at me innocently. ‘Of course! I love a good ceilidh.’ He grabbed hold of my hands and yanked me along. ‘The Gay Gordons is my favourite.’ He hummed loudly, cantering up and down the street. Then he stood on my foot.

‘Ouch!’

‘Oops.’ He grinned. ‘Sorry.’

I rolled my eyes and moved away. ‘Look, there’s the pub.’

‘Praise be,’ Lexie said. ‘I’m parched.’

By unspoken consensus, we picked up speed, ignoring the wind blowing against us. A small group of Bauchans was hanging around outside. I guessed my supposed infamy hadn’t reached these parts yet because one of them caught of sight me and muttered to his mates, ‘There’s another fucking Sidhe.’

As soon as we reached them, all five made a show of curtseying. The action was far too deliberate and melodramatic; they swept the ground in a manner that suggested blatant disrespect. There were some Sidhe who would take great offence at that, though I wasn’t one of those. Frankly, I’d rather be on the Bauchans’ side than the Sidhes’. It wasn’t a problem, though: I could match like for like and show them that we weren’t all bastards. And I could have a little fun too.

I halted in front of the little group, pushed up my chin so my nose was in the air and held out my hand. ‘Paupers,’ I said loudly, in a posh, affected accent. ‘Your manners do you well. I will permit you to kiss my hand in return.’

Four of them looked at me, aghast, apparently believing that I was taking myself seriously. The fifth, however, with a mischievous glint, did exactly as I asked. He bent across and began licking the back of my hand. Then he turned it over and began nibbling at the softer flesh on the other side. It kind of tickled. I remained perfectly still.

‘I like your nail polish,’ he said, between slobbery licks. ‘Hot pink turns me on.’ He grabbed his groin with his free hand. ‘I’m already getting hard.’

I tossed back my hair. ‘Kiss me more.’

His mouth twitched as he held back his laugh. ‘My lady.’

I started moaning. Brochan, clearly put out by my display, hastily pushed open the door to the pub and disappeared. Speck followed, the tips of ears bright red.

‘Have fun, Tegs,’ Lexie purred, taking Taylor by the arm and propelling him inside.

My moaning increased. The four other Bauchans were backing away, shaking their heads. I threw my head from side to side in an almost perfect Meg Ryan imitation. ‘Yes!’ I cried. ‘Oh yes! More!’

The Bauchan chuckled.

There was a flash of light. Bob appeared, floating behind the Bauchan’s head and staring at me. ‘Uh Integrity, what
are
you doing?’

I gave him a wink. Then I let out a tiny scream and pulled my hand back. I shook myself. ‘That was orgasmic.’

The Bauchan smiled. ‘And here was me thinking that the Sidhe didn’t have a sense of humour. I’m Fergus, by the way.’

‘Integrity.’

‘Which Clan?’

I held his gaze. ‘Adair.’

He raised his eyebrows and whistled. ‘Seriously? I thought they were all dead.’

‘Obviously not,’ Bob said from behind, suspicion glazing his every word.

Fergus stared at him. ‘Is that a genie?’

‘Yep.’

‘I’ve never seen one in the flesh before.’

‘I can hear you, you know!’ Bob flew in front of my face as if he was trying to protect me. Sweet, but really not necessary.

‘You should be careful.’ Fergus looked past Bob at me. ‘It’s not a good idea to ask a genie for wishes.’

‘I got it,’ I said drily.

His grin widened. ‘Yeah, you seem like you can look after yourself.’ He pointed at the pub. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

Tempting. He was good looking, even for a Bauchan, and I liked his banter and his way of thinking. It probably wasn’t the best time, though. And he didn’t have floppy golden hair or emerald-green eyes. ‘I’m with my friends.’

He took the hint. ‘Another time, perhaps.’

‘Perhaps.’

Fergus bowed like a well-trained diplomat and left, sauntering down the street to join his gullible buddies who were still in a state of shock. He did, however, receive a slap on the back. I shook my head in amusement.

‘Uh Integrity!’ Bob hissed. ‘What did you think you were doing?’

‘Taking the piss.’

He recoiled. ‘What? What piss? Do you mean urine? Were you taking that Bauchan’s urine?’

‘It’s an expression. As an all-knowing supreme being, you should know that. It was just an act, Bob.’

‘Did he know that?’

I sighed. ‘Yes.’

He glared at me. ‘Really? Because I think you were indulging in some very risky behaviour. I thought you were all lovey-dovey about Byron Moncrieffe.’

My eyes narrowed. ‘And I thought you were more fun. Now get back into your letter opener unless you want to be bothered by every single person who walks into that pub.’

‘It’s a scimitar!’ he yelled. ‘You know fine well it’s a scimitar!’

‘Okay. Scimitar.’

He sniffed. ‘That’s better. And, for your information, I’m lots of fun.’

I stretched out my pinkie and ruffled his hair. ‘Course you are.’

***

T
he second I entered the pub, I was whacked in the face with what appeared to be a bundle of cloth. ‘What the...?’ I spluttered.

Chandra smiled at me serenely. ‘Come on, Integrity. You can’t go to a ceilidh dressed like that.’

I glanced down at my jeans, warm jumper and sparkly hot-pink scarf. I didn’t look that bad, surely? ‘I have other clothes,’ I said, gesturing at my bag. Chandra was well known for her appreciation of tight and revealing attire. Considering she was wearing bright green hot pants and a halter top and it was February, for goodness sake, I dreaded to think what was in the bundle she’d thrown at me. I had no problem with getting dressed up but even I had limits. ‘And since when were shorts
de rigeur
for ceilidhs?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘
De rigeur
? My, my. Your vocabulary is coming up in the world.’

I stuck out my tongue and shook out the cloth. It was a tiny purple dress which glimmered with sequins.

‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose,’ I said grudgingly. ‘But...’

Lexie appeared from the restroom in an electric-blue jumpsuit. ‘I love this!’ she squealed.

Chandra grinned. When Speck appeared wearing a similar get-up, I almost choked.

‘Aw, Specky!’ Lexie beamed. ‘We look like the perfect couple!’

He looked like Elvis Presley on an acid trip. I flicked a look at Brochan who was still wearing his normal clothes. ‘Are you...?’

‘No.’ His face said it all.

I stifled a smile.

Taylor’s new clothes at least were slightly more sober, although his white suit with its giant lapels and shoelace-thin tie certainly weren’t designed for a shy and retiring wallflower. I arched an eyebrow at Chandra. ‘You just happened to have all these outfits lying around?’

‘I’m branching out,’ she said, flicking back her hair and adding a saucy wink which somehow still managed to be laced with danger. ‘I can’t be an assassin forever. It’s murder on my knees.’

I couldn’t begin to imagine what her knees had to do with it. It was probably better not to. ‘You’re going into fancy dress?’

‘Fashion, darling.’ She waved a hand. ‘I designed all of this.’

‘So you want us to be walking adverts for your new line?’

‘Well, it’ll be great publicity. You’re not exactly inconspicuous, are you? Not with that long white hair.’ Her eyes gleamed.

Without thinking, I touched my hair. Then I realised what I was doing and quickly dropped my hand. ‘I’ll try it on,’ I told her. ‘But I’m not promising anything.’

Bob coughed. ‘Do you have anything in my size?’ he asked hopefully.

Before I could see what Chandra might come up with for the fashion-conscious genie, I vamoosed into the bathroom. It was small, with only a single stall, a sink and a frosted window, but thankfully it was clean.

It was surprisingly difficult to get the dress on. I turned it this way and that. There was no zip. Under or over? I frowned. If I pulled it down over my head, I could probably manage to wriggle it on ‒ if I held my breath. I stripped off, hanging my own clothes over the door to the toilet stall.

I found the right end of the dress, yanked it over my head and began an awkward shimmy to pull it down. Unfortunately for me, the dress somehow got completely twisted.

‘This is what things have come to,’ I said to myself, my voice muffled by the flimsy fabric. ‘Chieftain of the Adair Clan stuck in a dodgy pub bathroom, half naked and with a dress wrapped round her head.’

Unwilling to yank too hard in case I ripped the damn thing, I carefully unwound it, ready to start again ‒ except a bone-chilling scream from somewhere outside stopped me in my tracks. A dark, heavy shape fell against the window with such force that it shattered, spraying glass everywhere. I yelped and darted back, pressing myself against the wall. There was another scream and the shape collapsed. Shite, shite, shite. This day was just getting better and better.

I grabbed my shoes, hauling them onto my feet to avoid getting cut by the glass, and peered out of the window. An older-looking man wearing a bulky coat was lying on the ground outside. I couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not. I leapt out, scraping my side against some shards of glass, and bent down to check him. He was gasping, his fingers scrabbling at his face as he tried to suck air into his lungs. I grabbed the collar of his coat and dragged him up to a sitting position. From somewhere further down the street, there were several more shrieks.

‘What’s wrong?’

His face was turning purple. ‘Can’t ... breathe...’

Heart attack? I had some pretty good first-aid knowledge from my stint with mountain rescue but I was far from expert. I reminded myself to keep calm while I fumbled to unfasten his coat and loosen his shirt.

‘Does it hurt? Your chest?’

He half shook his head then he half nodded. Damn it. Which was it?

People were spilling out of the pub door. Several idiots already had their mobile phones in their hands, no doubt more concerned with filming the action so their mates could gawp at it on social media than with the chaos that appeared to be descending.

‘Taylor!’ I yelled. ‘Call an ambulance!’

He appeared by my side. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know. Might be a heart attack. Might be a panic attack. Keep him calm and don’t let him go into shock.’

‘What are you going to do?’

I jerked my head grimly at the distant shouts and screams. ‘I’m going to find out what the hell that is.’ Without wasting any more time I took off, pelting down the street. I heard Taylor shouting behind me, something about ‘underwear’ and ‘naked’ but I ignored him. I wasn’t any good in a fight but I was a Sidhe Chieftain. Keeping the Highlands safe was supposed to be my job, even if right now all I was capable of was telling truth from lies and growing pretty little flowers.

It wasn’t hard to find the source of the problem ‒ there was a trail of horror-stricken people to follow. As I rounded one corner, I grabbed a cowering guy who was close enough to reach. ‘What is it?’ I demanded. ‘What is causing all that noise?’

He gaped at me. I wasn’t sure whether it was because of what he’d seen or the fact that a white-haired Sidhe in her lacy underwear was standing in front of him. I didn’t have time for this. I tried again, hardening my tone to encourage him to snap out of his daze. ‘What is going on?’

He found his voice. ‘Fomori demon,’ he stuttered. ‘I’m sure of it.’

For one long second, I stared at him. He was telling the truth; he definitely believed that was what he’d seen. If I’d been anyone else, I probably would have thought he was delusional but I’d been across the Veil and I’d seen thousands of the bloody things. I knew how distinctive they looked – and I could see the expression in this guy’s eyes. I couldn’t begin to imagine why one was here now after all these years, but I couldn’t run away and hide either.