Rhys: A Highlander Short Read online

  He was promising he wouldn’t be a bother if she’d forget about him. But he also promised trouble if she didn’t.

  “Fine, then,” she said, hoping her seeming acquiescence would take the bluster out of Simon before disaster struck. Neither man knew that Lumsden’s departure, as every ghost’s before him, depended on careful timing. If Number 16 didn’t depart in the next few minutes, his carefully planned quest would have to be scrapped. Futures would be changed…for the worse.

  She summoned the life force that had been dearly purchased and smiled when it settled in the belligerent Highlander’s chest. It would be the first step toward softening his heart, she hoped.

  Lumsden sensed it instantly and jerked in reaction. His eyes widened. “It’s done, then?”

  “Aye, it’s done.” She pulled his things from the deep pocket inside her cloak, passed a hand over the lot, and offered them. “Some things to help ye on yer way.”

  He snatched them from her hand and took two steps back. “I’ll just go along then, shall I?”

  She folded her arms. “As ye wish. But would ye care for a ride? I’ll be driving back to Inverness.” She opened her arms. “Or I could send ye anywhere ye can name so as not to waste yer time, aye?”

  “Anywhere I name?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “Auch, ye’d like me to confess my intentions, so ye ken where to come lookin’, is that it? I’m no fool.”

  Simon grunted and won himself a scowl from the now mortal Lumsden. Then a grin stretched across the face that had seen no smile for three hundred years. “Fine. Send me to the airport in Glasgow.”

  “Done.” She gave him a wink. “Don’t be so hard on yerself, Rhys Lumsden. Ye’re a good man whether or not ye’ll admit it.”

  “Save yer wheesht to cool yer porridge, lass. And since I’ll ne’er lay eyes on ye again, I’ll leave ye with a blessing on yer house, witches or no.”

  “Very kind of you.” She leaned over the green mist, rose onto her toes, and kissed the man’s cheek. “Good luck, then.”

  He opened his mouth to say with wits like his, he wouldn’t need luck, but the breath and the thought were gone in the blink of an eye. All the lights upon the moor went out, along with the stars, and only when he felt the ground press against his feet again did he realize it had been missing.

  He stood before clear glass doors. Inside a vast, lighted building people shuffled back and forth with luggage following at their heels. Soni had been true to her word and delivered him to the airport. The letters GLA marked the door that opened automatically before him.

  Something slipped from his fingers and a man stooped quickly, picked it up, and handed it back to him. “Careful there, mate. Ye’ll be needing this, sure.” Then he hurried through the open doorway.

  A British passport was tucked between Rhys’ fingers.

  He opened it to see whom it belonged to, but the man in the photograph was himself. The look on his face bore a striking resemblance to how shocked he must have looked the moment his once-dead heart had started beating again—moments ago, miles ago.

  Soni knew he wanted to run and she’d given him the tools to do it. The lass couldn’t ken just how far he meant to go, surely. But he was beginning to doubt his success.

  If I can manage to get on an airplane… “I’d put my chances at nine in ten.”

  Feeling smug again, he high-tailed it inside before the doors could close on his arse.

  Rhys followed his feet to the counter where he saw others purchasing tickets. While he stood in line, he studied the board overhead and searched for the most remote destination he could find. Some place too inconvenient for a young lass to come looking.

  Since the Summer Solstice, Soncerae had returned to the moor often enough to prove she was determined to send he and his fellow ghosts onto the next life, no matter how long it took. This was the first time she’d gone more than a week or two without a midnight visit, and if she hadn’t fell ill after sending the blacksmith away, he was sure he would have seen her sooner.

  Which led him to believe Soni Muir wasn’t willing to spend much time or go a great distance to track a fellow down.

  All Rhys needed was to hide himself well and good so that, if she did cross the pond to find him, she would be forced to give up before she could ferret him out or else risk being gone from the moor long enough to ruin her schedule.

  If he were a clever man, he would turn back to the Highlands and hide among the islands as Bonnie Prince Charlie had. But he had a niggling suspicion that the ground itself might bend to the witch’s demand and lead her to him.

  No. He needed to flee to a land far and foreign to a Scottish witch…

  He waited his turn and stepped up to the counter. A finely dressed gentleman greeted him warmly and waited for Simon to state his business.

  “I need to put a great distance between myself and a lass,” he said.

  The other man’s eyes bulged a wee bit when he tried to hide his mirth. “Where would ye wish to go, sir?”

  “If I must leave Scotland, which I must, I suppose the next best thing would be New Scotland, would it not? Nova Scotia, it says on yer sign. But I fear the witch will suspect as much…”

  The salesman laughed aloud that time, assuming—wrongly—that Rhys was trying to be entertaining. It wasn’t his fault that the truth sounded so.

  “Hawaii? Japan? If it’s distance ye’re looking for—”

  “I’ll not spend the next two days on an airplane, mind.”

  The man shrugged. “What about New York? I would think even a man in a kilt could hide well enough there.”

  Rhys considered. From all he’d seen on the telly, the salesman was right. It was easy enough to get lost in a forest, so why not a forest of buildings? And perhaps, after leaving a confusing path of breadcrumbs to keep Soni occupied, he would sneak his way up the coast and find a welcome island upon which to begin his new life.

  He nodded and passed over the Master Charge credit card he’d found with his passport. “New York, then, if Mr. Master Charge allows it.”

  Chapter Three

  Sitting in the window seat on the right side of the airplane, Rhys grew more and more furious as the minutes passed. Overly-cheerful tourists poured down two aisles and filled up the cubby holes with baggage and the seats with their arses, all the while acting as if they truly believed such a vehicle could fly into the air.

  Computer graphics and tomfoolery.

  It didn’t matter how many times he’d seen pictures of the thin pointy aircraft cutting through the clouds, now that he was inside one, he realized it was only an elaborate jest. A jest being played upon him. And all those on board were conspirators.

  If Soni hadn’t stolen his sword and skean dhu, it would be much easier to fight his way back out the door. But no matter. As soon as the young woman with the small children filed past, the flow of traffic would reverse when he plowed through the stragglers.

  But she didn’t pass, she stopped.

  As there were three of them and only two empty seats beside Rhys, he did not worry. The small boy looked fearfully in his direction while his wee sister clung to his hand with both of hers. Rhys gave him a stern look meant to dissuade the child from repeating the mistake, to turn his attention elsewhere, but the lad’s eyes widened and if anything, he stared harder.

  The wee lassie followed her brother’s gaze and Rhys immediately lost the scowl. Only the meanest of men would frighten a bairn. With straight blond hair combed just so, she was barely two, surely. A mere babe propped upright.

  Owls’ eyes with blue centers stared up at him for a moment. Then she smiled.

  A more romantic man might have heard the whisper of fairies, the tinkling of bluebells bouncing into each other due to a soft breeze. But not Rhys. For him, it was a siren of warning.

  Look away, ye fool. Look away and be saved!

  Deliberately, and gratefully, he did just that.

  From the edge of his vision, he paid cl
ose attention to the trio. The young lass might have been old enough to be their mother, but the laddie called her Kristin. She plopped ungracefully into the aisle seat and pointed at the two chairs beyond her own.

  “Sit there. And if you’re nice and quiet, I’ll let you watch a movie after we take off.” When Kristin showed no signs of helping, the laddie helped boost his sister into her seat, fastened her seatbelt for her, then climbed into the seat beside her. Both belts lay loose and ineffective on their laps, but Kristin never glanced their way.

  Rhys realized three things at once. First, he’d been distracted and completely forgotten to exit the aircraft. Second, he was staring again. And third, the laddie was staring back. The look on his face was less curious and slightly…supplicant…as he pointed to his sister’s seatbelt. He apparently had no faith that Kristin would come to their aid.

  Careful, Lumsden, he chided himself. Dinnae react. Reaction is what brought ye to this day.

  He got to his feet and kept his mind focused on leaving, but a boney woman in blue stepped to his row and blocked his way. “I’m sorry, sir. You must be seated and buckle your seatbelt. We’re about to take off.”

  The woman was English, so it was difficult to acquiesce. But he’d have another chance soon enough. After the aircraft failed to get off the ground, they would be forced to allow everyone to depart. So he sat down once again.

  Engines started in vain. The vehicle moved away from the building and rumbled down long roads, only to turn and rumble down another.

  The Englishwoman wandered back up the aisle, looking back and forth. She stopped beside Kristin. “You’ll need to pull those seatbelts tight,” she said, pointing to the bairns, then she moved on. Kristin rolled her eyes and did as she’d been directed. Then she answered her cell phone.

  “No, I’m on my way back to New York… I told you it wasn’t a scam. Got my flight paid for and everything. All I have to do is escort a couple of kids, make sure they make it to the bathroom and stuff like that… Yeah, their mother died. I’m taking them to a grandmother they won’t even remember.”

  Rhys abandoned his window seat and took the one beside the aisle. Then he waved at Kristin, to know he wanted to speak to her. Her eyes bulged momentarily, until her expression turned flirty. She pulled the phone away from her head and leaned toward him.

  “Yes?”

  “Are they deaf, then?” He pointed to the wee’uns.

  She frowned and glanced over her shoulder. “These guys? No. I don’t think so.”

  “Weel,” he said, “I wouldnae ask, but I couldn’t fathom why ye’d speak so callously about their poor mum as ye just did—unless they might be deaf. Only a heartless beast would do so. Perhaps I was wrong, then.” He looked at her with his best impression of a dead man, then faced forward and relaxed, hoping the lass would be more mindful of her charges for the rest of the flight.

  The woman in the seat ahead of him waved the stewardess to her. “As soon as it’s allowed,” she said boldly, “I’d like to buy this man behind me a drink.

  Rhys was amused and grateful, even. He only hoped it wasn’t a bottle of water she planned to procure for him.

  The next time Rhys glanced to his left, the laddie was strapped tightly into the aisle seat and Kirsten sat in the third seat of the center row. She had her phone pressed to her ear again with her free hand covering her mouth, as if no one might guess at her furious whispers.

  The stewardess paused long enough to tell her she had to turn all electronics off until the captain said otherwise. The lass grunted and put the phone away while a number of passengers smiled and pretended not to watch.

  Rhys’ attention dropped and caught on the wee laddie who stared at the seat before him while he held tight to his sister’s hand. His bottom lip quivered ever so slightly before he pasted on a smile for her. He turned and caught Rhys staring, and immediately sobered. Rhys gave the laddie a wink and a nod and the child instantly relaxed.

  But why? Had the boy been worried by Rhys’ initial frown? Or did he now believe someone besides Kristin the Heartless might worry after him and his sister?

  It wouldn’t have concerned him so, but Rhys had overheard more than a few grumbles from Culloden’s visitors who had been seated near small children on long airplane journeys. So for good measure, he moved back into his window seat to wait, once again, for someone to admit that the great beast of a vehicle would not be leaving the ground.

  But where to go? If he couldn’t fly to New York, where should he hide? And worse yet, his mind fretted over what might happen to those two bairns if they could not reach their grandmother.

  Worrying for small children was a natural reaction, he argued silently.

  Aye, his mind argued back. Another natural reaction is to step in front of a musket ball meant for another. Natural reactions are the enemy! Dinnae forget!

  The plane turned, slowed, then stopped altogether. A glance out the window promised they would all have to walk a great distance to return to the large building. But then a horrible noise arose and Rhys realized no one would be surviving. Surely the lot of them were about to explode along with the airplane!

  Not unlike he’d imagined a tag-a-long on the security guards’ buggy, Rhys felt the impact of his seat slamming into his body and propelling him backward against the heavy padding of the seat. If he were still just a spirit, the plane would have left him far behind as he shot along the road like a musket ball headed for the far side of the battlefield. He gripped the armrests and was suddenly grateful for the complete enclosure that kept anyone from falling out the sides. Even if they never got into the sky—

  The airplane fairly jumped into the air—and did not come down again! The sensation of the road beneath them was long gone and they…flew!

  “I will be buggered,” he said quietly. The woman ahead of him laughed, as did a few others. A glance proved the wee laddie had heard him as well, since he made a face—like he knew he’d heard something he shouldn’t. “Pardon me,” Rhys said to the room in general.

  As he realized how quickly they were nearing the clouds, he cursed again. Soni had fooled him after all…

  For surely they were moments away from facing God in His very heaven.

  Chapter Four

  Rhys Lumsden was wrong. Again. Either God was far beyond the blue sky and the clouds therein, or else The Almighty was not in his heaven the day Rhys came to call. But this time, the mistake was a happy one.

  The ride through the firmaments grew quite tedious after a while, and the telly situated in front of his face held no allure. On a screen much like it, and later on smaller phone screens, he’d seen what the world was up to beyond Culloden. Now, he had the opportunity to see it with mortal eyes.

  The long-awaited drink cart arrived, and true to her word, the woman just ahead of him bought him a beverage of his choosing. He grunted his thanks, of course, lest she think him interested in more than just the drink. And after he savored the taste and texture of a small package of peanuts, Rhys was quite content to lie back and test his ability to sleep.

  It was true that he did not remember his body feeling quite so fit, though it might have been, long ago, and he not remember it. But he was folded into a small space with no room for testing himself, and the only endurance he faced was to keep his wits and his instincts under control for six bloody hours.

  He could not understand the foolishness of covering one’s eyes and presenting a vulnerable neck to a large room full of strangers, but since everyone else had been checked for weapons, he felt reasonably safe closing his eyes. He cocked one leg upon the seat beside him, put his back to the outer wall, and spread the tartan from his shoulders across his middle. For all any man knew, he hid his weapons under the wool.

  In genuine peace and contentment, he slipped just over the border into sleep. What pulled him back again was a tiny clicking noise. Tiny, like a mouse nibbling on a particularly dry morsel…

  Rhys opened his eyes but a slit. The sound cam
e from across the aisle. The laddie now had his wee sister sitting beside him in the one seat, his arm around her shoulders, and the wee mouse’s teeth were chattering. Her straight blonde hair stirred from a stream of air blowing in her face, not unlike the one above Rhys’ own head.

  Fresh air meant fresh torture for her. And naturally, her brother was eager to see what Rhys thought of the situation. He never left his post, but his eyes spoke clearly.

  We are alone here. Help me help her.

  Rhys pushed the button over his head that would summon an air steward, which is how the help referred to themselves in the pocketed magazine. When the same Englishwoman arrived, he was grateful enough to be courteous.

  “Those children,” he said, “are frozen through, aye? And Miss Kinder Care notices nothing at all. No doubt they need a trip to the loo as well.” And having given his assessment of the situation, he leaned back against the wall once more and closed his eyes, leaving the air steward to do something about it. He wouldn’t be stepping in front of a bullet again, but he could at least warn that danger was coming…in the form of wet pants and a snotsome nose.

  He reached into his sporran and pulled out the earbuds he’d been offered for use with his telly. Tucking them inside his ears would give the impression he was incommunicado. And even though he could still hear most of what went on around him, he tried to ignore it.

  A low conversation across the way. Wee voices answering. Stern words followed by defensive arguments. Then the satisfaction of small feet hurrying in the direction of the in-plane loo.

  Rhys felt as relieved as if he’d just pissed on a tree himself.

  Number 16 of Culloden’s 79 enjoyed the first dreamless sleep since his death, and he did not care to rouse enough to discover if the droning in his head was due to the airplane or his own snoring. A wee while later, however, he had no choice but to wake when a tiny creature scurried along his bent leg.