Fire on the Island (6 page)

Jeremiah smiled
down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"You may
have your reasons for not wanting to go out, but you're definitely
interested," he said. "But I won't push. Not yet, anyway." He
winked at her and pushed past her out of the locker room.

"Bastard,"
she muttered, but smiled a little to herself. While she knew seeing Jeremiah
could complicate her life immensely, she was grateful to him for taking her
mind off her scary encounter for a few minutes.
And, let's face it,
she
told herself,
he's incredibly hot.

Isla joined him
a few seconds later in the lobby, and she felt her cheeks heat when he gave her
a knowing smile. He was leaning on the front desk, scribbling something on a
notepad. Tearing the sheet off, he folded it and handed it to her.

"My cell
number. In case you change your mind. I'm gonna go for a hike."

She looked at
the paper skeptically, then shrugged delicate shoulders and took it. "You
shouldn't hike by yourself," she said automatically.

"I'll be
fine."

Typical man
, she thought, rolling her eyes. "Well
don't stay out too late, it's going to rain."

"Hiker's
intuition again?" he asked.

She shrugged
again. "Take it or leave it."

Before she
could protest, Jere kissed her on the cheek and stepped forward to open the
door for her. Isla exited the lobby ahead of him, headed to her car, and then
she turned back to him. "Jeremiah."

"Ma'am?"
he drawled, giving her goosebumps.

"Stay on
the trail."

Chapter
Seven

When Jeremiah
began his hike on the southeast side of the island, it was a beautiful, clear
day. The trails were devoid of travelers due to a sailboat race in Brodick Bay.
He had wandered up a rough trail that sliced through the heart of the Merckland
Wood.

He'd been
walking for nearly two hours when the first clap of thunder rang in the sky. He
told himself he would just go a little bit further, knowing the canopy of the
forest would give him some protection from the rain.

The trail
curved sharply to the right, then disappeared. Just up ahead, Jere noticed
several primitive-looking stacks of sticks cut from saplings. They loomed in
the darkening forest like ghostly monuments. He remembered reading somewhere
that the locals would build these structures as offerings to the faeries. They
believed the faeries would take up residence in the makeshift houses.

Jere had lost
track of time wandering through the
faerie village
when the deluge
broke. Rain poured down from the sky in buckets, and he laughed at himself for
thinking the trees would protect him. The sun had gone down fast, aided by dark
thunderclouds, and Jeremiah suddenly found himself in a very dangerous
situation.

Calmly, he
began to retrace his steps in what he thought was the direction he'd come from.
The rain was pounding so hard that he couldn't see a foot in front of his face,
except when a bolt of lightning lit up the sky.

Making his way
slowly, carefully through the woods, Jeremiah began to question his direction.
He should have made it back to the trail by now if he was going the right way.
No sooner than the thought crossed his mind, Jeremiah stepped out into thin
air.

He had stepped
off of some kind of bluff and found himself half rolling, half sliding down a
shear embankment. He flailed desperately, trying to grab a branch or a
root—anything to anchor himself—but there was nothing but mud and rocks.

He managed to
stop the alligator roll and maneuvered his body so that he was sliding on his
back. Just when he thought he would never stop sliding, the ground beneath his
back dropped off and he was falling. He hit the ground feet first. Hard. Pain
shot up his right leg as his ankle gave way beneath him.

"Damn
it!" he yelled out into the storm, agony causing his vision to narrow. He
didn't know how long he lay there on the ground, panting, until finally the
pain receded enough that he was pretty sure he would stay conscious. Gingerly,
he pulled his battered body into a sitting position as the rain slowed to a
light drizzle.

"Figures,"
he muttered. "Now what am I gonna do?"

He quickly took
stock of his injuries—sprained, possibly broken ankle, bruised ribs, bleeding
cut over his right eye. Next, he surveyed his surroundings, trying
unsuccessfully to find any identifying landmarks. He did, however, see a faint
glow off in the distance.

Thinking the
light could be from a house, but barely daring to hope, Jeremiah scooted over
to a tree to try and pull himself up. He was able to stand briefly on his good
leg, but when he tried to take a step, he dropped like a stone.

Jeremiah pulled
his good knee up and rested his forehead on it, closing his eyes briefly to
stave off the nausea. His head snapped up when he heard a low-pitched rumble
that sounded a little too much like a growl. He gaped as a silvery shape
appeared out of the darkness.

"Un-fucking-believable,"
Jere breathed, staring at the large wolf that stalked closer to him, jowls
pulled back in a snarl. Its ice-blue eyes were locked onto Jeremiah as it took
one step, then another.

Jeremiah held
his breath and tried not to move a muscle, waiting to see what the wolf would
do. The huge animal turned its head and glanced behind it, and Jeremiah cringed
when he saw four more wolves step out of the shadows. Now, he didn't know all
the statistics on it, but he was pretty damn sure the odds of finding one wolf,
much less five, on an island in Scotland were about one in a billion.

The leader of
the pack tipped his head back and howled to the wind, and then he lowered his
big body into a crouch, as if he were preparing to attack. Jeremiah flattened
himself against the tree line and felt around for anything to use for a weapon.
His fingertips brushed across a sharp rock and he picked it up. It wasn't much,
but it was all he had.

Jeremiah braced
for impact as the wolf's muscles coiled and bunched, preparing to strike. He
jumped when a shotgun blast echoed through the trees. Four of the wolves melted
into the surrounding darkness, leaving only the alpha. In fact, they left so
fast Jeremiah couldn't even track the movements. It was as if they just
disappeared.

Hearing
footsteps approach, Jeremiah looked beyond the remaining wolf to see Isla
emerge from the trees, twelve gauge aimed right at the wolf. She looked like an
Amazon, thick ropes of wet hair tossed by the wind, clothes soaked to the skin,
hard eyes fixated on the wolf. And she was well-armed, from the shotgun to the
wicked-looking bowie knife sheathed at her belt.

"What
the—"

"Shh!"
she commanded without looking at him. "Don't give it any more reason to
bite you."

"Isla, it
could kill you."

The wolf growled
and inched toward Jeremiah.

"Jeremiah.
Shut. Up." Isla pumped the shotgun again. The sound drew the wolf's
attention, and it turned around to regard Isla with curiosity. Isla merely
stared back, right into the creature's eyes, which Jeremiah was pretty sure was
the last thing you're supposed to do with a wild animal.

Ever so slowly,
the wolf lowered his haunches to a sitting position and bowed his head.

"
Facile
esse,
" Isla whispered, "
bene est
." Be of ease, all is
well.

Jeremiah looked
back and forth between Isla and the wolf. To his disbelief, the wolf rose to
his feet, and after one last piercing look at Jeremiah, he loped off into the
trees.

At a loss for
words—as there was so much
what the fuck
in what just happened, he
didn't know where to start—Jeremiah finally said the first thing that came to
mind. "You speak Latin?"

"Huh?"

"Never
mind. Look, we've gotta get out of here before that thing comes back!"

Isla shouldered
her shotgun and walked over to where Jeremiah sat slumped against a tree.
"Can you walk?"

"With your
help, I think I'll be able to manage," he answered, trying not to wince
when he shifted positions.

Isla crouched
down beside him so he could sling one arm across her shoulder. With Jere levering
his body up on his good leg, they were able to pull him upright. "My cabin
is just around the bend. Think you can make it?"

"Gonna
have to," Jere said in a tight voice, clenching his jaw against the pain.
He had to lean heavily on her when he took a step on his bad leg.

"Damn,
you're heavy!" Isla teased.

"Not
really, you're just tiny," he retorted, which wasn't entirely true—at six
foot four and nearly two hundred pounds of muscle, Jere was pretty sure he felt
damn heavy as dead weight.

"You know,
I think someone warned you not to go off by yourself
and
not to stay out
too late."

"Don't
remind me," Jere said, groaning.

Isla patted his
hand sympathetically. "We're almost there. It's just up ahead."

Jeremiah
breathed a sigh of relief, because his good leg was shaking so badly from
holding his weight that he was sure he would collapse if he had to walk much
farther.

~~~

When they made
it to the cabin, Isla helped Jeremiah hobble over to the couch where he flopped
down with a grunt.

Isla took one
of the throw pillows and placed it on the coffee table. "Prop your foot up
here and I'll get you some ice." She moved off to the kitchen where Jere
could hear her digging around in the ice bucket. She returned with a towel
wrapped around a handful of ice.

First, she ran
her hands gently over the injured area, thoroughly soothing the muscles, and
Jere felt a curious warmth begin to tingle up from his toes to his throbbing
ankle. Bringing out her first-aid kit, she wrapped a bandage around the towel
to hold it firmly to his ankle.

She sat next to
him and used an alcohol swab to disinfect the cut over his eye. He sucked in a
sharp breath at the sting.

"Sorry,"
she said sympathetically. "This could probably use some stitches, but
we'll have to make do with a bandage." She opened an adhesive bandage and
applied it to the cut. "That should at least stop the bleeding."

"Thanks. I
don't want to impose, though. If you could just drive me back to town, I'll get
out of your way," he said with a self-deprecating smile.

Isla snorted
out a less than ladylike laugh. "In a storm like this, the road will be
flooded for a couple of days. We're stuck with each other for the time being.
Can I get you anything?"

"Beer.
Aspirin. Sleep. In that order," he said, eyes closed.

Isla returned
from the kitchen with two bottles of Tennent's. Handing him one, she set hers
on the coffee table and pulled the aspirin bottle out of the first-aid kit and
tapped out three pills into his hand. He tossed them in his mouth, chased them
with a swallow of beer,
and
leaned his head back on the couch.

"Thanks,"
he said on an exhale. "And thanks for...well, saving me."

"You're
welcome. I'm glad I found you in time." She sat down next to him on the
couch again and pulled one leg up under her. A huge spotted cat jumped into her
lap and stared unblinking at Jeremiah. Another one slinked its lithe body back
and forth behind Jere's head, and he tried to convince himself that he wasn't
looking at a miniature leopard.

"Isla,
have you ever seen a wolf on the island before?"

She looked him
in the eye and tugged on a curl. "No. They're supposed to be extinct in
Scotland."

"But you
didn't seem surprised."

"I've seen
that wolf a couple of times since your hike at Expeditions. He's never
threatened me—it almost seems as if he's protecting me in some way. I know it
sounds crazy, but I think that may have been why he tried to attack you. You
got too close to my cabin."

"You're
right, it does sound crazy," he said, smiling, "but I've heard
crazier.

"Well,
it's been a long night. We should probably get some sleep." Isla walked to
the hall closet and pulled out an extra blanket and pillow and handed them to
Jeremiah. "I hope you'll be alright on the couch. The guest room is sort
of being used for storage. I've been meaning to clear it, but I keep finding
better things to do," she said, smiling guiltily.

"I'll be
fine. I'm just grateful to be dry and in one piece," he said, and he meant
it.

Isla yawned and
stretched like a cat. "Just yell if you need anything," she said
while tying her mass of hair up into a topknot. "Goodnight."

When she turned
around, Jeremiah got a good look at the back of her neck and nearly spit out a
mouthful of beer. She had a tattoo on the back of her neck that exactly matched
the symbol on the cover of the
Bruixi
text, except hers had a glyph
shaped like an eye inside the smallest circle.

He had just
found the Arran Witch, and he had no idea what to do about it.