Chapter Text
The room was lively. It was filled with dancing couples, drunks, and the rowdiest of individuals that Scottish society had to offer. A band was playing in the corner and barhands were moving around the pub, light on their feet. There was laughter, cheerful voices, and arguments aplenty. It was a typical night at the Hair of the Dog.
Alistair was mingling, taking what vampires knew as little sips or sweet drinks from various female patrons. He was on his third lass, the woman entirely enthralled, when his eyes caught sight of Hati. She was watching him as well, and there was amusement to be found in her eyes. His hands fell away from the woman he was dancing with, expression polite.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lady,” he said, offering her a small smile. His eyes were a pale green, the kind that caught flecks of sunlight and turned them into gold sparks, and they held hers for just a moment longer. “A friend of mine has come by to see me.”
The young woman appeared saddened by the news. “Oh,” she replied. “Shall I see you later, then?”
Charming to the end, he brushed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I should think not, but perhaps I’ll see you another day, if you frequent this alehouse.”
Joining Hati at a table in the corner, Alistair sat and made himself comfortable beside her. A nearby hearth was crackling away and the warmth it provided left him sighing in contentment. “Good evening, Hati.”
She raised her tankard to him. “Here’s to you. It’s rather amazing to sit here and watch you work a room, you know. You do it so well. None of the ladies notice a thing, and it never gets old. I do wonder, however, where all that charm goes when you’re conversing with me?”
His eyebrows, always rather expressive, drew together in an instant. “Excuse you.”
Beside herself, she sniggered and reached out to pinch his arm. He made a face at her, unimpressed, and asked, “What brings you to the pub tonight? Were you lonely?”
Hati sent a rather scornful look in his direction. Her irises were carved from autumn itself, every shade of red-brown leaf pressed together until you couldn’t tell where the warmth ended and the shadow began. At the moment, however, there was a fire burning in them. She certainly wasn’t pleased.
“Now you’re just being nasty,” she teased. “Samuel wants absolutely nothing to do with me after our last fight. I didn’t come here for a bad bout of lovemaking with a man who can barely keep up with me. Mortals are far too much work.”
Her words earned a soft chuckle from Alistair as he ran a hand along the wooden surface of the table. His eyes met hers again after. “Then why did you come?”
“As it happens, I was hoping that I’d find you here. I needed to hear an intelligent man’s voice for once.”
His chin came to rest on a hand, eyebrows arching. “Oh? So, I’m intelligent now, am I? Good to know. Finish your pint and we’ll leave this noisy place behind.”
Rolling her eyes, she had another sip. Licking the foam from her upper lip, she thought of the many quips she could make in response, eventually settling on, “You are. Sometimes. You can be, anyway. Other times, you’re just dense.”
Alistair absentmindedly drew patterns into the table’s surface with his index finger. “Would you… Do you still consider him your mate? I know things have been trying as of late.”
She nodded. “Of course. A few squabbles won’t change things. He hates you, for starters. We’ll see if I can change his mind about that.”
An indignant huff fell from his lips. “He barely even knows me. He met me once, darling. Just the once. I rather thought I made a good impression, all things considered.”
An older-looking man passed by their table, nearly spilling an entire frothy pint in Alistair's lap. The vampire sucked in a quick breath, reflexes saving him as he reached out a pale hand to steady the bloke. It earned a mumbled, ‘thanks,’ in response, and then he went on his way.
She chuckled at Alistair’s expression, setting aside her drained tankard after it was finished. “You were arguing with a spirit, Alistair,” she elaborated, as if nothing had just happened. “He initially thought you were deranged. That’s hardly a good first impression, even if you were kind to Samuel afterward.”
Shrugging, he placed down a few coins to cover her ale and stood from the table. “It couldn’t be helped. It wasn’t my fault that he couldn’t see the bastard.”
She rose to her feet with him, snatching up his hand and guiding him out of the pub. He went along with qualm, happy to be led away from all the noise and distraction.
“He needs to open his mind, you know,” added Alistair some moments later. “That’s why he couldn’t see what I saw. Or heard, for that matter. He’s too closed-off about these things. ”
Hati arched her eyebrow. “He’s a werewolf, Alistair, same as me. His mind is open enough.”
He grumbled a bit at that, grumpy as ever. “Of course, maybe, yes. But he can’t see the ghouls around him. No specter wants to be seen by a man so awfully, terribly condescending and cruel at times. A man who would deny their very existence, for that matter.”
She chuckled. “Condescending and cruel. I fear he might use those words to describe you, Alistair MacKay, and you could hardly blame him for it. Make him see. Help him.”
“How? Shall I create a plan for speaking with the dead, even going so far as to invite my friends to the castle? Here we are, yes, I can picture it now. I lead him into the parlor, set out a few boxes, all within view of the other séance attendees, and say, ‘From tables to trumpets, spiritualists like myself use these tools of the trade to summon the dead.’ That ought to go well. He would adore the look of spirit boards, I’m sure. He might even dare to put his hand on the planchette with us. Perhaps one day he’ll even be able to see them with his very own eyes like we can. Speaking of… You can see them, so why not him?”
She groaned, fingers scrubbing at her face in frustration. “Because I’ve spent far too much time with a lonely, jaded, self-loathing, art and writing-obsessed vampire. Perhaps that’s why. Have you ever considered that possibility?”
His hands slipped into his coat pockets, the perfect picture of indignance. “Impossible.”
She could almost imagine him harumphing without even turning to peer his way “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m correct. I couldn’t play piano before we met, either. Yet you taught me that, same as with seeing the spirits around us. He’ll come around to you, eventually. While we’re on the subject, anyway. I shouldn’t leave that part out. I warmed up to you as well, after all.”
Quite by accident, they found himself at the outskirts of the local cemetery, as if their feet had carried them here with purpose. He opened the front gate and allowed her to slip inside ahead of him. All around them, leaves were rustling and they caught sight of a stray pack of deer making their way through the grass. They hopped over the fence rather gracefully and continued, making for the forest behind the graveyard.
Following closely, Alistair conceded, “Perhaps you’re right. I know so little of your kind, only what you’ve shared with me. I’ve found that the bits and pieces that other vampires know are mostly fiction. You’re a rather secretive lot.”
She tittered at him. “So are you. Your kind, vampires, I mean. We’re all secretive. Needs must.”
Deciding to trust the feelings in his gut, he added, “I’ll tell you this… When vampires die, they don’t go to a nonexistent Hell. They linger here to haunt us, same as mortals, only destined to forever be with us. Humans can find peace, but we can’t. This cemetery, same as any other, is filled with spirits who have been unable to find their eternal rest. I’d venture to guess there are quite a few vampiric ones here as well.”
She sidled up to him, threading her arm through his. Her cheek came to rest against his bicep, their footfalls the only sound within earshot, and a warmth settled deeply within him. Long ago, she had wormed her way into his heart, there to stay. While he wasn’t above needling her, he never forgot to show his care for her in return. He tucked his chin over her head for a moment before placing a kiss there at the crown of it. Her soft hair tickled his nose.
“Would you haunt me?” asked Hati. “If something ever happened to you, God forbid, do you think you’d find your way to me in the afterlife?”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he cast a glance down at her as they walked along. “I would.” And he’d never meant anything more.
“And what about Fenella, then?”
The question had Alistair teetering precariously between feeling emotional and feeling hopeless. A soft, flighty chuckle fell from his lips. He was all too aware of the thundering of her heartbeat in his ears, and turned to admire the moonlit sky.
“I would,” he began, “split my time between the pair of you. How’s that?”
She hummed at that, apparently pleased. “There’s a good man.”
“Although,” added Alistair, “I’m not entirely sure she would welcome the sight of me at the witching hour.”
Amused, she shook her head. “No, I suspect not. Leave her be at night. Unless you plan on crawling into bed beside her and leaving her to rest.”
He was appalled by her words but dissolved into laughter shortly thereafter. “Duly noted.”
They paused by a row of gravestones. His gaze was lazily resting on Hati, but she was glancing around as if something had caught her attention. Drawing away slightly, she glanced up at him to ask, “Did you hear that?”
He brushed a hand down his bloodred waistcoat, smoothing out any wrinkles, and shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”
She patted his arm. “You knob… Why am I friends with you? I thought I heard something. Voices. They carry on the wind.”
As they turned to continue down the dirt path, they were met with the sight of two specters engaged in an argument. Their voices were growing louder now. The man was vexed, and the woman stomped a foot rather angrily.
“Couples,” remarked Alistair. “Someone always needs to have the last word, even in death.”
She fought the urge to laugh, instead rubbing her ear and turning away to lead him down another path.
“An entirely different subject,” he asked suddenly, “but have you heard anything more about our London killer?”
Hati paused at that. She hadn’t heard anything else, but surely there would be more news in the coming days. The death toll had grown rather high these past four months. The time period between murders was growing shorter and shorter.
“No,” she said honestly. “Soon, though, we’ll hear more. Call it intuition.”
A gentle breeze began to rustle the trees around them, a telltale sign of an oncoming rainstorm. They rushed back to Dorcha Castle, passing through the great portcullis that was usually left open at night. The gravel pathway was winding, and by the time they reached the front doors, rain was beginning to fall. It pelted the ground, and Hati squished herself closer to the much taller vampire in an effort to avoid being sprayed.
After unlocking the door, they were safely inside and she shucked out of her damp jacket.
“Looks like you’ll be taking the guest room tonight,” he announced. “I might not be able to catch a sickness these days, but you certainly can. Let’s not leave things to chance, aye?”
Breathing in a sigh of relief, she nodded gratefully. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’d never let my dear wolf come down with a case of the sniffles. Your mate would never forgive me for that, now would he?”
She rolled her eyes. “Say his name. It won’t hurt you. Samuel. In any case, let’s go to bed. I’m freezing right now.”