“Not exactly conscious,” I admit, my hand on the latch. “I kind of … sat on him until he fainted, so I could get away.”
Amusement flickers over his face, lips quirking into a swift smile that comes and goes faster than a summer storm.
“I checked the wound; he won’t even need a day in bed,” I say. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
Gavan nods again. “Leave him to me. You go on home. I’m sorry about this, Alva.”
“Actually.” I take a deep breath. There’s no point in hiding my plans now. Giles has already figured it out. “My father has been arrested, so I’m not going home.”
“What?” Gavan interrupts. “Where are you going?”
“I have a job, in a town. I was going to stow away with Duncan to Balinkeld and get the stagecoach, but he’s long gone. I’ll have to start walking now if I want to get to Balinkeld in time for the coach tomorrow.” I lift the latch, and Gavan reaches out to stop me.
“But there’s a lugh out there. It’s already killed Aileen Anderson and the horses, and Hattie’s missing too. You can’t just walk down the mountain in the dark.”
“It’s not a lugh, Gavan,” I say. “It’s something else. I’ve seen it. It’s... Talk to Maggie Wilson. Talk to Ren. They can tell you.”
Gavan shakes his head. “No, you tell me,” he says, bracing a hand against the door. “Half an hour, Alva, you can spare that. After all, you shot my da.” I hesitate and he smiles suddenly. “Come on, I need a cup of tea. I’m parched. And I’ve even got an idea to get you down to Balinkeld and make up the lost time.”
I hesitate – it’ll start getting dark in a few hours, and I want to put as much distance between me and the loch as possible before then.
“I’ll keep my da locked up overnight,” he adds. “As an extra thank you.”
I smile. “You’ll want these then,” I say, holding out the keys I took from Giles.
I end up making the tea and carrying it through to the dining room, while he goes to check on his father. When he returns we sit in the same seats at the same polished table we sat at all those years before; I do it without even thinking.
“How is he?” I ask, nursing my cup.
“He’ll live,” Gavan says, in a measured voice. “Just a scratch, like you thought. He’s not even bleeding.”
“Shame,” I say, then hesitate. “And how are you?”
He exhales slowly. “This time yesterday we were still setting up for the feis. It feels such a long time ago, now. You know, I saw Hattie trip you during the dance.” I am ashamed at the bolt of vindication that shoots through me when he says this. Gavan continues. “I actually said to James, ‘Hattie’ll get herself murdered if she carries on like that.’” He pauses. “It was a figure of speech. But now she might really be dead.”
I reach over and pat his hand. “Gavan, it’s not your fault.”
“No. It’s your da’s fault apparently,” he says plainly. “Or so everyone is saying. He knew there was a wild cat about. He knew and he didn’t warn anyone.” He leans forward. “Only you say that it’s something else.”
I pull my hand away. “It’s going to sound impossible. Just try to believe me.”
He listens in silence as I talk, as calmly and clearly as I’m able, about what I saw by the loch, and then in the old books.
I tell him my father knows, and that Ren knows too, and that he’s taken the little proof we have to Maggie Wilson.
I explain how I think the creatures are free because his father’s mill is draining the loch so that they can walk across the bed. And that if the mill keeps going, draining more and more water faster than it can be replenished, they’ll be out there for a long, long time.
Gavan says nothing, doesn’t interrupt. After I’ve stopped, he remains still as a carving for many minutes. The only sound is the ticking of the clock.
Then, though it must be cold now, he picks up his tea and drinks, tipping the cup back until it’s empty. He sets it down. “This is all true?” he says. “You swear to me?”
“I swear.” I put my hand on my heart. “Gavan, I saw one.”
“Do you have any idea how many there are?”
“I only saw the one. But the way my father spoke, and the images in the logbooks … it made me think there are more.”
“Then I have to catch one.”
I’m too stunned to reply for a moment. “What did you say?” I ask at last.
“No offence, Alva, but the word of a Douglas and some old books probably isn’t going to get us very far.” He holds up his hands. “Oh, I believe you. But I suspect I would be in the minority.”
He’s right.
“And I can’t imagine anything other than coming face to face with one will convince my father to shut down his mill,” Gavan continues.
“I don’t know if it’s possible to catch one.”
Gavan’s chin lifts, in a gesture I recognize as pure stubbornness. “There’s only one way to find out.”
He asks me to wait in the dining room, telling me he’ll be as fast as he can, then he leaves. I hear the front door open and close. I contemplate making a break for it, and have to force myself to return to the table and finish my tea, bitter from steeping for so long. I can trust Gavan, I feel sure of it.
But as the hands on the clock over the fireplace turn, marking how long he’s gone, I take to pacing around the room, trying to stay calm.
Finally it’s too much and I stand, hitching my bag over my shoulder ready to go, when the front door opens and a moment later Gavan enters, wearing his plaid, his cheeks flushed.
“Sorry,” he says, breathless. “Everything’s sorted. Let’s go.”
“What’s sorted?” I ask as I follow him to the front door.
“I told you, I had an idea to get you away, so long as you don’t mind travelling first thing tomorrow instead. I’ve agreed a loan of Jim Ballantyne’s donkey for you to get down to Balinkeld. If you go first light at a clip, you’ll make it in time for the stagecoach. You can still get away, and it means you don’t have to be on the road at night.”
I stare at him, stunned at this overhaul of all my plans and not sure whether I like it. “What about your father?” I ask. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Giles Stewart doesn’t forgive. He didn’t forgive my mother for falling in love with another man, and he won’t forgive me for besting him or exposing him to his own son. He won’t forgive Gavan for helping me, either.
“He’ll be fine. I left the keys with my mam.” He hesitates. “She says she’s sorry, by the way. I told her a bit about it. I don’t think this surprised her.”
I swallow. “Gavan…”
“I’ll take you somewhere to spend the night, somewhere you feel safe.” He holds the door open for me, and we leave his father’s house, entering the empty square. “Where would that be?”
I think for a moment. “At Ren’s,” I say at last. I have no idea how Liz Ross will feel about it, but it’s the only place in Ormscaula I think I might feel safe. If Gavan is surprised, he doesn’t show it.