Annis and absconded to Thornflower Square, where beautiful clothing straight from Paris and tartans of all clan colors were on display in the windows alongside gold thistle flower pins and claddagh rings of every gemstone enumeration. My eyes danced over a blue sapphire claddagh ring carved of tungsten, and I traced my milky fingers on the window as a light rain began to fall, carving watery chapels on the pane.
"I believe I need some respite with my best friend before the bar sinister Hellfire Club rendezvous tonight," I giggled, holding and stroking Annis' hand. She held a newspaper better suited for a plate of fish and chips over her red, red hair. Her emerald eyes beamed.
"Shall we buy matching claddagh rings for our – our boys? I would – would love to give one to dear Peter. T'would be much better than an edible tart, l-last much longer, and nay make him fat!"
We laughed, going inside the shop, only to find the shopkeeper, a pinch-cheeked lanky blonde, older woman, weeping.
We rushed to her side. "What is wrong, dear madam?" I asked, handing her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her tears.
"Thank you, m'lady. It's struck again. The nixie. Always before the night of the full moon, a little laird disappears. My sister married a lesser lord, and my nephew was gone from his bed this morning – Stephen – with loch water drenching the sheets with kelp and fish. I – I fear the worst. Please, ladies, do not mind me. Nothing can be done."
I pulled out a chain from my pocket – a burning thistle flower etched in bronze, the secret symbol of the Monster Rangers of the Highlands. The poor shopkeeper gasped, and Annis pulled out the same from her pocket.
She crossed herself. "God save us all. The Firewatchman's Daughter of Invermoore, and Blue Annis," she said, repeating the names the bards sang of us during reels at pubs. Annis, blue like cornflower. I, the Firewatchman's Daughter, thus called because I murdered every last one of the wicked MacKays, save me.
"Tell us everything."
She did. Stephen had been friends with the boys in the pub we had met – Clophan was the leader of them, the pasty boy who had taken a lewd, rude liking to Annis, and gotten up to no good with the bar sinister bastard offshoot of the Hellfire Club.
"Clophan is half-French, and fancies himself their ringleader. He is mighty bitter at losing his friends from St. Andrews to the kelpie. I am afeared they will take matters into their own hands and try to slaughter the rogue kelpie themselves. It has twisted poor Clophan, made him a rude boy, but the whole lot of those poor boys fancy themselves Pottsmouth's protectors. And they have failed thus far..."
I crossed myself, as did Annis. So, the roughhousing boys were hiding deep hurt, consoling themselves in whiskey and women, especially in my beautiful Annis. It made a certain sense, after all.
We asked for details. Every time a boy was stolen from bed by the rogue kelpie, there was Loch Linslear water, spilled kelp, and open windows – as if the kelpie had climbed in the window. All that was found left afterwards, washed ashore, were bloated headless corpses, the limbs, blood, and heart missing, with barnacles covering the body.
"The only clue we have is that Clophan said he saw a great beast, halfway between lindworm and dragon, in the shadowed distance, as tall as a house, one night in the water. Far from a kelpie, who are usually docile and play with the children in Loch Linslear, taking them on rides for the water. Now the poor peaceful kelpies have no babes to play with or boys or girls to ride their reins and backs, now their King Kelpie has gone bloodthirsty."
I thought back to Samael's story of Silverhoof, Mannanan's steed, and how Saint Patrick had kicked Crom Cruach – the Wyrm of Balor??? – out of Ireland, across the English Channel. Could it be? Lord Mannanan, god of the sea, often did battle with monsters – also known as Manawydan, son of Llyr. Had Silverhoof settled here? Was this where the Crom Cruach was lodged? It was aberrant for a kelpie to feast on boys in the first place, much less little lairds. Perhaps the Crom Cruach was controlling it. A kelpie who was not crazed would know the royal blood of Scotland and the thistles that grow would do no good cut off at the root, and they only took women once in a blue moon, anyways.
"Are there any stories of Mannanan Mac Llyr in these hills and valleys, my poor woman?" I asked. Annis shared a knowing look, patting the shopkeeper's back.
"He is the guardian of Loch Linslear that fishermen pray to," said the shopkeeper, confused. "His steed guards the waters and provides good fish."
Annis winced. I felt my stomach sink.
"Thank you dear. We would like to buy the velvet cloaks and red capes, and four claddagh rings, tungsten with sapphires for me, and ivory with rubies for my dear friend."
The shopkeeper smiled. "You do me a good turn, my fair lassies. Thank you for listening to me, Firewatchman's Daughter and Blue Annis. May your hunt go well tonight, and mayst thou keep fair, safe watch over Clophan and his poor friends."
I put the pounds, a generous amount, tucked safely into her wrinkled hands, and we went to a café to reconvene, sipping coffee.
"What do you think?" I asked Annis intently.
Annis half-smiled as if she was sick. "It is Silver- Silverhoof and the Crom Cruach. Everyone knows Mannanan rarely leaves Avalon anymore. There is no- no way he watches over Loch Linslear nearly often enough to keep the ghost of his rogue steed in check."
I sipped the coffee after stirring cream and three sugar cubes in it. "And Clophan?"
Annis softened. "Those po- poor boys. At first, I suspected them. But now, I almost think they are trying to whip themselves into frenzy tonight to go fight the Kelpie King, with women as a fi - fine accompaniment to victory. They do not stand a chance. A kelpie that can leave its loch is crazed, so powerful and bloodthirsty, devouring all blo- blood and extremities, it must have grown mighty beyond measure from all of Silverhoof's full moon victims."
"I will have Lleuwinda speak to Mannanan about this," I rankled, imagining my old girlfriend delivering a stern letter to the merry sea king. "Mannanan never has it in his heart to kill... it would be rare for him to put the poor creature out of its misery. But something does not sit right with me. Why did Silverhoof decide to kill now of all times, starting this March?"
Annis choked on her licorice tea. "The gre- great beast Clophan saw, talking to the Kelpie King... could it be Crom Cruach? Perhaps the - the great beast is gathering lieutenants," she shuddered, imagining the great monsters that roamed Scotland, the Callieach hags and her own stern bloody grandmother Black Annis ripe on both our minds.
"We must beware of Jenny Greenteeth tonight. The one who guards Loch Linslear prefers blood offerings or will not let us enter. We are not Pottsmouth born, but to cross water, you, Samael, Peter and I must give her sufficient drops of our blood. Perhaps she has seen this "Wyrm of Balor,"" I sighed, lost in the currents of this building calamity. "Above all, we must keep the humans, and all of Pottsmouth, safe. If this truly is an offshoot bar sinister of the Hellfire Club, Clophan and his friends know something of magick. To what extent, we four shall witness tonight as Peter and Samael hide far in the hill. We should have them prepare defensive magick. You and I will sneak our guns... and our fangs and claws."
Annis nodded. "Tea sandwich?"
I took it, and a scone with a pressed lavender flower for good measure. I looked at our shopping bags of burlap. "Do you – do you think Samael and Peter will like our new garb, and claddagh rings?"
Annis smiled. "Let – let us gi-give them to them at dinner tonight, to gird their loins and enliven their hearts. Twill be a good gesture of devotion."
We squeezed each other's hands and talked of lighter things. It would be a dark night, holding only what the moon knew.
Frights, indeed.