Page 9 of Winter Princess
“About ten miles from Oban,” Crispin answers when I ask the question. He comes over and sits down on the grass by my side. “I’m sure there’s a repair place there, so it shouldn’t be too long a wait for the tow truck to come.”
“Do you always drive to Calanais?”
He laughs. “No, we usually fly. Your mother owns a private plane that we can use. But with your powers being so unstable, we thought it would be a bad idea to be so far from the ground. Fire on a plane is never a good idea.”
“How long will this magic thing go on for?”
“I haven’t got a clue. I spent a few days in the Royal Library when we were given this mission, but there’s pretty much no record of other demi-gods. A few human women claimed to have been impregnated by gods, but those children usually turned out to be human.”
“What about the Greek and Roman demi-gods from the legends? Hercules?”
He laughs again, and I cross my arms and frown at him. It’s not my fault I know next to nothing about my heritage. “Hercules was a mage who thought a lot of himself. He spent most of his money on scribes to write poems about his supposed strengths. You should ask your mother about him, she met him once.”
“My mother met Hercules? That’s kind of… weird.” But I guess my mother has been around for long enough to have met all the important people in history. I don’t even know how old she is. But they call her the Mother of Gods, so she must have been around since the beginning. I guess. My RE teacher never mentioned anyone besides the Christian God. I’ll need to ask my mother about that one. “What about Zeus? Didn’t he have other demi-god children?”
“Zeus is a lower God. He got some good PR in the past, but he’s actually at the bottom of the hierarchy.”
“So he’s still alive?”
“Of course, what did you think? He’s a God, they’re immortal.”
“Just like you Guardians?”
“Mostly.” I raise an eyebrow until he expands on that statement. “We don’t age and we don’t get sick, but we can be killed. Decapitation is one of our enemies’ favourite. Gods are even harder to kill.”
“Who are your enemies?”
“You ask a lot of questions.” I open my mouth to defend myself, but he smiles. “I like it. You only learn by asking questions. Our enemies are the enemies of the Gods. Demons, mostly, but sometimes a power-hungry mage decides to fight the Gods. Unsuccessfully, of course, but it’s good practice for us.” He gives me a grin that changes my perception of him from a healer to a warrior. I can imagine him in a fight (he’s certainly got the muscles for it) and that grin says he’d enjoy it.
“If there are demons, are there angels as well?”
“The angels you read about in stories are usually Guardians. Most people don’t know we exist, so when they see us, they give us names from their mythology. Angels, helpful spirits, prophets.”
I’m almost embarrassed to ask the next question, but it comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. “If people mistake you for angels, do you have wings?”
“Yes and no.”
I wait for him to continue, but he just smiles.
“Come on, tell me!”
He winks at me and jumps up. “Look, the tow truck is here!”
Bastard.
***
By the time we arrive in Oban, it’s early afternoon. The mechanic had a look at the car’s engine (he was a little surprised by the water damage) and told us he could have it fixed by tomorrow morning. That got me some very annoyed glances by the guys. We could have rented another car, but they were all too small to fit four large guys. And for protection reasons – they wouldn’t expand on that – they refused to split up into two cars. So, we’re stuck here for the night.
Oban is a lovely little seaside town, equipped for the thousands of tourists who come here every summer, both to stay and to take a ferry to one of the many islands on the Scottish West coast. Now, at the end of October, it’s quiet and peaceful. The people passing us are mainly locals, and many of the tourist shops are already closed. I always enjoy seeing how a town transforms between seasons. It’s like the façade the tourists see is slowly fading away until the real town emerges, before being hidden once again when spring arrives. Right now, we’re at the point where both versions merge.
The last time I stayed in Oban was several years ago on a family holiday, so I walk around open-eyed, taking in the changes and the memories. Behind me, the guys are following, a little less enthusiastic.
“That’s great, just great. She destroyed the car. I liked that car,” Storm grumbles as he follows us to the MacCulloch Hotel’s entrance. I really want to tell him to drop the topic, but that may be dangerous.
The woman at the front desk looks a little perplexed when Frost requests a family suite for us – and so must I, because Arc leans down and whispers, “If you have another flare, all four of us need to be there to contain it.” I nod, uncomfortable at the thought of another magic explosion. If I set fire to the hotel, I could endanger dozens of people. Arc must have read my mind because he adds, “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure nothing happens.”
Frost turns around from the very flushed looking reception clerk, dangling the keys in his hand like some sort of treasure. “We got the best suite in the house,” he declares, waiting for praise that never comes. His usual frown reappears and he mutters something about ‘no appreciation for his flirting skills’. We follow him into the old-fashioned elevator – everything is gold in there, although it’s flaking at the edges. With me squashed into the middle and the four men all around me, we just about manage to fit into the lift. My body touches theirs in several places, and I can feel the heat rising in my face. Don’t think of how close they are, Wyn. Think of something else… like butterflies. Something neutral, not sexy. Not hot. Not – aargh. I’m going to kill my hormones one of these days.
