The Children Of The Mist (33 page)

Mack grinned, his eyes all but disappearing in the creases. ‘The very same. So, I'm thinking you won't be wanting this other steak then?'

While the concept of eating cute little seals was a bit disconcerting, the prospect of having her meal cut short was far worse. Morven held out her plate. ‘You'd be thinking wrong, Mr MacGregor.'

Without a word he slid another portion to her, and served himself and Zest.

After a few moments of concentrated silence, Zest put down his fork and looked at Meg. ‘That's how you followed me down the loch, isn't it, Meg? You swam.'

She nodded briefly, and continued wiping seal grease from her plate with a piece of bread.

Mack eyed his granddaughter with an air of exasperation. ‘Meg, you shouldn't take such damnable risks! And — talking of which — where's my bloody gun?'

Meg seemed entirely unperturbed by this frontal attack. ‘Lost it. Shot the Campbell bitch though, silver bullet and all.'

‘Don't swear,' said her grandfather. ‘You lost my gun? Mary, Moses and Joseph! That was my great-grandfather's. It was a collectable!' He paused for a moment and then leaned slightly toward Meg. ‘Where'd you get her?'

Morven had the feeling that, despite his disapproval, Mack MacGregor was inordinately proud of his grandchild. She loved Meg more and more by the minute. And she was busting to know how badly hurt her precious cousin Celeste was. Very badly, hopefully.

Meg took a sip of water. ‘Can I have some whiskey?' she asked optimistically. At the sight of her grandfather's expression, she changed the subject. ‘Shot her in the back. Just below the kidneys. She was bleeding like a stuck pig. Awesome.'

Morven giggled and Zest smiled. Meg was a very wicked girl. Brilliant.

Zest then asked the question on the tip of her own tongue. ‘Silver bullet? I thought they were only fatal to us? Will she die?' There was a hopeful edge to his voice.

Morven slipped a hand onto his lap and took his hand.

‘Kill her?' said Mack. ‘Doubt it. Make her feel like death warmed up though. Silver bullets have never really killed the werewolves, it's more that we react badly to the metal. Can take a very long time to recover.'

Morven lapsed into a delightful reverie as she imagined Celeste, gushing blood and writhing in agony. Mack jolted her back to reality.

He put down his knife and looked at them. ‘So, you two, where do you go from here?'

It was the million-dollar question to which Morven had no answer. She stared unseeing across the snug room. What now? She looked at Zest, who looked troubled.

‘Zest,' she said. ‘What do you think?'

For a moment he was silent. Then he clasped her hand tighter in his hand. ‘I'm not sure. Part of me doesn't want to leave.' He glanced at the MacGregors. ‘I've done what I set out to do. And more. I guess I could easily stay here, or go back to Edinburgh. But really, it's up to Morven.'

Morven weighed his words for a little while. Then she looked at Meg. ‘Tell me, Meg, how many of you are there, in the city?'

Meg frowned and looked at her grandfather. Mack nodded. ‘I've only seen six,' said Meg.

Six. More than Morven had anticipated. An even number. Excellent start. She looked at Mack. ‘Are there any more?'

He nodded. ‘Yes, another half dozen spread around the west coast. On the small islands mainly. But there could be more. Any one individual is only ever privy to the whereabouts of limited numbers. That way, if someone talks, not everyone is at risk. Being one of the elder, I probably know more than most. There are others overseas. But there is no way of knowing how many.'

Morven nodded, deep in thought. It was quite clear that werewolf numbers were relatively high in this part of the world. Not surprising really, considering the history. Zest hadn't met another of his kind in all his years in the southern hemisphere. But logically there should be more in the UK and Europe. In a few years' time she would inherit a significant share in a vast global enterprise. She'd be a rich woman. Maybe she could put that money to good use. If she lived that long. Trouble was, the closer she was to the Campbells, the higher the risk. But then, Mack and Meg, and at least another dozen individuals had lived for a long time beneath the radar. Why not she and Zest?

She sighed. Suddenly deeply weary. The truth was that she wasn't one of them. Meg had shot her cousin only that evening. Prejudice ran deep on both sides of the water. Why should they help her? But then — they already had. Still, it may have been a very different scenario without Zest's presence. She looked at him then, and found his eyes locked onto hers, his expression a mixture of tenderness and concern.

Suddenly Morven felt a great tsunami of homesickness. She ached for the sound of cicadas, screeching cockatoos, the pungent scent of eucalypt and the endless blue sky days. And she missed her parents. And Dog. More than anything in the world, she wanted to hop on the last train with Zest and Dog, after a wild night on the town. ‘I want to go home,' she said softly. Her eyes searched Zest's face to try and see what he was feeling. ‘I know it's stupid. And dangerous. But I just want to go home. ‘

He smiled, his eyes warm. ‘Stupid? Dangerous? Sounds like our kind of trip.'

Morven let out a deep breath she hadn't realised she was holding. ‘We'll come back. After I turn 18. I promise.'

Zest nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan.'

Mack stood up and began to clear the plates. ‘You can wash up, Meg.' Meg moaned and groaned and whinged, but went to the sink. Mack looked at Zest. ‘I think it's too
dangerous for you to attempt a flight. The Campbells will be frothing at the mouth to find you. If you've no objection to the water, I can find you a passage on the sea. Mind — it'll take a couple of months.'

Zest looked questioningly at Morven. ‘How about it?'

After a brief period of reflection, Morven decided it was a good idea. Old Mack was right, her clan would be thicker than fleas on a stray at the airports. There was no limit to their resources. The vast tracts of ocean were a different matter. Much trickier. Much less policed. And besides, her parents were floating around out there somewhere. ‘I think it's a good idea. Only thing is, I'm a bit strapped for cash.' She looked anxiously at Zest.

‘If we work a passage, I've enough to see us home,' he said reassuringly.

Mack grunted. ‘That's settled then. Leave it to me. Meanwhile, would you two like to take a shower?'

For a stupid moment Morven thought he meant Zest and her together. Her face went very red and Zest lifted a sardonic eyebrow at her. To cover her embarrassment she rushed to the tiny bathroom. Ten minutes later she emerged, shiny as a freshly boiled lobster and dressed in a pair of Zest's spare jeans and one of Mack's shirts. While the loss of her belongings irked her, especially the traveller's cheques, she was most saddened by the loss of her tartan rug and the coat of arms. Campbell they may have been, but they were gifted with Smith love. She made a silent vow to get them back. One day.

Once Zest was clean they excused themselves and went outside for a breath of air. Well, kind of. The business of the showers served only to remind Morven that she and Zest hadn't had a moment alone.

The storm had passed. The clouds were high and a strong northerly wind had begun to rip them apart like tissue paper. Hand in hand, they wandered down to the sea. It surged and ebbed relentlessly, dragging pebbles up and down in its iron grip. Waves raced up to their feet and sighed back to the sea. Beneath the crumbling cliffs, breakers spewed up white foaming horses. Neither spoke. Morven thought about what Calix had told her, about the werewolves killing her parents and stealing her away. She searched her soul. Was it true? And, if it were, did it make a difference to how she felt about Zest? To how she felt about the MacGregors?

The wind blew back her hood and snatched at her hair. Zest turned to her and gently drew the hood back up. Morven caught his arm and looked up at him. ‘I wish I were a werewolf,' she said. ‘A MacGregor or a Wallace, like you.'

He leant down and kissed her softly on the lips. ‘I don't. I love you just the way you are, Morven Smith.'

She lifted her hands and brushed them lightly through his hair. It felt squeaky clean, springy and soft. His unique scent filled her senses. Of soap, aniseed, and healthy young male. Her mouth closed over his and gently she explored the enticing warmth. Her body held no lingering doubts. It pressed up close. Heat travelled to disturbing parts of her anatomy. She felt utterly right.

Finally, she pulled back a little. She smiled into his eyes. Those brilliant green eyes. ‘I love you, Zest,' she said. And in that moment she knew that she would never tell Zest about her parents. They were gone. A long time ago. She had a mum and a dad. She had Zest. And Dog. That was enough for Morven Smith.

And Zest was right. It didn't matter what the name was or what form one was born to. In the end, they were all one and the same. The Children of the Mist.

Red Moon

by MA Grant

Dark, moving and original, a story of family, survival, and getting on with life…

Flynn Sinclair understands pack loyalty — for years as his Alpha father's enforcer, he has done things in the name of duty that he can't ever forget. But the vast expanse of Alaska offers him a peace he's never known. Alone, removed from pack life, he can focus on his research and try to forget his life before.

But duty has a way of inviting itself in, and Flynn finds himself doing two reckless things in one week: leaving the safety of Alaska to save his brother Connor's life, and unwittingly falling in love with Evie Thompson, a woman who doesn't deserve to be drawn into his terrifying world.

Connor carries news of their father's descent into madness, and it looks like neither geography nor Flynn's attempts at disengagement will put off a confrontation. Flynn had finally begun to believe that he might deserve something good in his life — something like Evie — but to move forward in the light, he must first reconcile with the dark.

Lost in Kakadu

by Kendall Talbot

An action adventure novel set in the Australian jungle where two unlikely people prove just how attractive opposites can be…

It's pretentious socialite Abigail Mulholland's worst nightmare when her plane crashes into an ancient Australian wilderness. Things go from bad to downright hellish when rescuers never come. As she battles to survive in an environment that's as brutal as it is beautiful, Abigail finds herself also fighting her unlikely attraction to Mackenzie — another survivor, and a much younger man.

Mackenzie Steel is devastated by his partner's death in the crash, the only person with whom he shared his painful past. Now, as he confronts his own demons, he finds he has a new battle on his hands: his growing feelings for Abigail, a woman who's as frustratingly naïve as she is funny.

Fate brought them together, but they'll need more than luck to escape Kakadu alive. Could the letters of a dead man hold the key to their survival?

The Lies We Tell

by Elizabeth Dunk

From the author of
Arranged to Love
comes a romantic story of forgiveness, secrets, small towns and second chances.

Ten years ago, Todd Lansing stood over his father's grave, his heart thumping out curses on Sia Collins for causing his death. When he returns to Oberon and sees Sia again, his heart thumps with a different emotion, one he fights with all the anger he still feels.

Sia didn't commit the break-in that ended up killing Mr Lansing, but to admit that would send her father to jail. She has rebuilt her life in the small town, atoned for her accused crime, and carved out a niche using her talent with paint to reach out to the community, raise funds, and support her family.

When Todd finds out the truth, he can't understand why Sia won't speak out and clear her name, and it threatens to tear them apart. With her relationship with Todd on the line, will Sia choose loyalty or love?

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