Kip's Monster by Harper Fox

Author:Harper Fox
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: scotland, gay romance, mm romance, loch ness, contemporary gay romance, cryptid hunters
Publisher: Harper Fox

Chapter Thirteen

What Goes In Loch Ness

All except Kip. To my dismay—I just wanted to sink into the sand and disappear—he clambered to his feet. “Shut up,” he said, sounding as near to angry as I’d ever heard him. “Shut up, the lot of you. Oz only just got here. He doesn’t know all the stuff that goes on in this free-range nuthouse. Leave him alone.”

The laughter died. Small, shocked glances darted across the fire, as if a cross word from Kip was as unexpected to the free-range nuts as it had been to me. The weird group dynamic settled upon Holly as spokesperson, and she ran her hands in embarrassment over her rainbow crop. “Hey, Oz. We didn’t mean to upset you.”

Maybe I didn’t want to vanish after all. Placid Kip, who should’ve been born with a CND symbol tattooed onto his brow, was ready to knock heads together on my behalf. I put up a hand and drew him back down to sit beside me. “I’m not upset,” I said. “I must’ve sounded like a right chump, just like...”

“Charlie,” said the camera guy agreeably, holding up two peaceful fingers.

“Just like Charlie said. All right, I give in. Why do you call him Jesus?”

Holly jerked a thumb back over her shoulder. Like everyone else here, Zadi must have a few tricks up his sleeve, or at least a pile of clothes behind a tree. I could’ve sworn I’d watched his whole progress up and down the beach, but there he was, settling comfortably on the bole of a tree just outside the circle, dressed from head to toe in a kind of long white robe. He’d unclipped his hair, which now fell around his shoulders in a rich tangle. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. The lunacy was notching up a point or two. Had the guy crowned himself with some kind of glowstick from a concert? The air above his head was weirdly radiant... Then the wind shifted and the effect disappeared, probably born of my second-hand high in the first place. I leaned in close to Kip and spoke under the chatter and ripple of applause, carefully this time. “Have you seriously brought me to the shores of Loch Galilee to listen to Jesus?”

He glanced at me in amusement. “Looks like it, doesn’t it? On a Sunday, too.”

“Is this guy—Zadi—the one who’s going to give the talk?”

“That’s right. And you’re not the only one who has doubts. Here comes Herne.”

A few whoops and cries went up like fireworks from the group. Herne, who’d torn himself away from Holly and gone jogging off into the undergrowth a minute ago, had suddenly emerged onto the beach. He was still dressed in jeans and a sweater, but these were the only ordinary things about him. He stood tall and forbidding, casting a strange shadow in the low midday sun, and his horns were longer than ever. “By what right,” he cried, setting his hands on his hips, “do you seduce the

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