Page 22 of Saving Nessie
Then, as if by magic—which it probably was—both the sea and the wind calmed. Two figures rose out of the grey water.
They walked on two legs, and at first glance might be mistaken for human. Both tall and apparently male, they were bare-chested and wore kilts about their hips. Lachlan had to keep himself from staring, because the closer they got, the more striking they became.
The Minchmen’s skin was a deep, royal blue. With broad shoulders and narrow waists, they rippled with well-defined muscle. One appeared older than the other and was leading the way: his hair was a steely blue-grey in tone and was fashioned into many braids that fell to his waist, decorated with shells and coloured stones. The younger male was fairer, with silvery hair that reached just past his shoulders, and only two braids that hung by his left ear. Their kilts were made of woven kelp and had a large scallop shell in place of a sporran.
The older merman raised a hand in greeting as they neared the shore. ‘Halò, a Méredit.It is good to see you again.’
Lachlan realised the merman was addressing Meredith, who had crossed her arms and affected an aloof expression.
‘Hello, Iomhar. You haven’t aged a day.’
‘Nor you,’ he replied smoothly. ‘As beautiful as ever. Though, sweet thing, why has your hair lost its colour?’
Meredith’s jaw seemed to clench at the ‘sweet thing’ remark, and the beginnings of a blush crept over her cheeks as she turned to Lachlan. ‘It was years ago I last came here with Amelie. I had pink hair then.’
‘Brighter than a coral. It would have lit up the whole ocean.’ Iomhar’s voice was a warm, friendly rumble. Both mermen still stood in the shallow surf, allowing the foam to lap around their ankles.
At this distance, what had at first seemed a trick of the light dappling their bodies turned out to be tattoos, etched in a darker blue than their skin tone. On Iomhar they covered every visible inch of him. The patterns were a complex weave of swirls and dots, similar to the runes Lachlan had copied, and reminiscent of the movement of ocean waves.
Iomhar’s companion had far fewer tattoos, though this only made them more eye-catching. They crept up from his left hip across his torso, reaching for but not quite meeting the ones snaking down over his right shoulder.
‘Why have you called us here?’ Iomhar asked pleasantly. His gaze swept over Lachlan with mild curiosity. ‘I notice young Cam is not here today. Has misfortune befallen him?’
Something about the indifference in his question rubbed Lachlan the wrong way. Surely these mermen knew about the old Walker curse. ‘If you mean, has he been Scorched to death? The answer is no,’ Lachlan said flatly. ‘Cam is just… otherwise engaged.’
If Iomhar detected the frostiness in his reply, he didn’t acknowledge it. ‘Good tidings, then. And you are?’
‘Lachlan. I’m Cam’s… assistant.’ Lachlan winced as he said it, barely convincing himself. ‘We know one of your people was murdered recently. We’re here to help.’
‘Help?’ Iomhar arched an intricately decorated brow. ‘Unless you can breathe underwater, I shouldn’t think there is much you can do for us.’
The irony wasn’t lost on Lachlan.If Cam was here, he’d give you a shock,he thought.
‘We just want to ask some questions,’ he said.
Iomhar’s companion cut in sharply. ‘Why should we tell you anything? When this matter is not even important enough for the witch himself to attend.’
‘Cam would be here if he could,’ Lachlan said defensively. ‘We think we know who was behind this. If you can give us a better picture of what happened, then we might stand a chance of catching him.’
The young merman’s lip curled, but Iomhar seemed to consider Lachlan’s words seriously. ‘And who is the culprit, if you are so sure?’ Iomhar asked.
Lachlan hesitated before answering. He wasn’t certain it would be a good idea to give them the whole story. It might incriminate Cam by family relation, even if Bryce was only a distant ancestor. The younger merman looked ready to seize upon any excuse to turn them away. Lachlan decided to only give the basics. ‘A man named Bryce. We know he kills people by some kind of fire magic.’
Iomhar nodded. ‘There were traces of magic where the boy died. Pàdraig was his name. He went to spend the weekend in Ullapool before he was found.’
Meredith looked puzzled. ‘What’s in Ullapool for a Minchman? There’s hardly anything there.’
Iomhar’s companion grunted under his breath. ‘Indeed.’
‘It is one of the larger settlements along this shore.’ Iomhar shrugged languidly. ‘And it is not unusual to find our people there. Many of the youth like to explore life in the towns now and then. But why he should have ended up in the hills east of there, we cannot make sense of. Unless he was lured—or taken.’
His companion interrupted him, grasping Iomhar’s arm. ‘Why reveal so much? We can hunt this Bryce on our own!’
Iomhar stared intently at the younger merman’s hand until he removed it. He turned back to Meredith and Lachlan as though he hadn’t been interrupted at all. ‘Please excuse Fionn. He is here toobserve,and perhaps learn a thing or two about diplomacy.’ His tattooed expression brightened. ‘In fact, this may be a perfect educational opportunity. Fionn shall take you to where Pàdraig was found. And perhaps to Ullapool too, so that you might retrace all his steps.’
His companion spluttered a shocked objection. ‘I can’t go—’
Iomhar clapped a large hand on Fionn’s shoulder. ‘As the old proverb says, one cannot hunt a land predator from the water,’ he said sombrely.
