Pay the Ferryman by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Author:Tracy Cooper-Posey [Cooper-Posey, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Short MM Vampire Historical Romance
Publisher: Tracy Cooper-Posey
Published: 2016-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

They reached the village of Carr late the next day. Despite the cold, the deep and wide river was still open and flowing in the middle, with ice collecting along the edges. The water was black.

The forest had grown dense around them as they approached the river. On the other side of the river the trees rose to the east, carpeting the lower slopes of the mountains. The winter-bare skeletons of trees, their trunks black with cold and moisture, gave the forest a stark, forbidding look.

Somewhere in there was a creature which preyed upon humans. A gargoyle, if Alasdair was right.

Heavy clouds wreathed the tops of the mountains and hid the sun. It was colder today than it had been yesterday and Nick was starting to feel the cold eating into his bones, even though cold and heat were not things he normally noticed.

Damien had spent the day with his hood pulled low over his head, hiding his features. He had barely spoken, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts, for Mab could not converse well, either.

It was a relief to reach the village. There were very few people abroad on such a cold and miserable day. The huts and cots huddled around the road and hugged the river’s edge all had their shutters closed while heavy smoke belched from the roof holes. The road was muddy and sucked at their horses’ hooves as they moved through the village, looking for a local to ask for directions.

A man struggling to pull a load of firewood through the mud was the first they found. He was red in the face and sweating, despite the cold. He seemed glad to stop for a moment. He pointed to one of the larger cottages, down by the edge of the river. “Next to the strand, where the boat is pulled up,” he said.

Damien flipped a coin toward him, which he caught and pinched between his teeth, testing the metal.

They rode down to the rocky shore that a bend in the river had formed, where Hamish pulled up the little boat he used to ferry people to and fro across the river. The boat rested keel-up, frost gleaming on the edges.

There was a path leading from the little beach to the nearest cottage, beating its way through long grasses. While Mab stayed with the horses on the beach, they climbed to the hut and thudded on the stout wood door. Beyond, they could hear the piping of a child’s voice, raise in protest over some boyhood slight.

The door opened to reveal a woman with red hair, fine pale skin and green eyes that opened wide. Her full lips parted. “Hamish…heaven help me, what ever are ye….” Then she frowned and stepped back. “You’re not Hamish.” Her voice was low and her hand reached for the crucifix at her throat.

“No,” Damien said. “Yet I would have words with him. Where is he?”

“Hunting and he should have been home by now. Did you do something to him?” She crossed herself quickly.

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