Page 7 of The Finest Scottish Fate

Murdoch snorted, then made the sign of the cross over his chest. “I’ll pray for ye.”

“Pray for the councilors. They need it more than I do.”

*

Eyes swollen and burning from too much crying after a tearful goodbye party arranged by her team of drivers, Evie made yet another pot of coffee. It didn’t matter that it was well after midnight. She wouldn’t sleep anytime soon. She turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter while waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing.

The blank wall where all her monitors had been mounted stared back at her. Her former employer hadn’t wasted any time in showing up to get their equipment. The only technology left in her tiny apartment was her phone and personal laptop.

Her gaze shifted to the bulging manila envelope beside her purse on the couch. Her drivers—those angels, those unappreciated bunch of sometimes grumbly men—had raised over ten thousand dollars for her, and insisted that she better take it or it would really hurt their feelings. The sight of their loving, generous gift brought tears to her eyes all over again. How would she get by without talking to those sweet friends every day?

Beside the envelope was another packet. Her travel itinerary and tickets for her trip to Scotland. Tomorrow. With Morganna Nightwhisper accompanying her. The woman acted as though she were afraid Evie would back out at the last minute.

She snorted. There was no reason to back out now. Her landlady had kindly allowed her to skip a month’s rent, since she wouldn’t be there. Thank goodness Mrs. Oliveri was such a dear soul who’d always worried more about feeding Evie than collecting the rent. Many a time, the sweet old lady’s grandson had delivered overflowing containers of lasagna or braciole. Evie had eaten for days on the woman’s delicious generosity.

Her lights flickered, reminding her that the rent included all utilities, so that was another worry crossed off the list.

With a heavy sigh, she poured a cup of coffee and stared at the streetlights outside the window above the kitchen sink. Maybe she’d save some money by going to Scotland. Morganna had insisted that the Tourism Council would foot the bill for everything.

An odd-shaped figure, dark and indistinct, streaked through the shadows down below, darting closer to the line of dumpsters against the building. Whatever it was appeared to be about three feet tall, thick around the middle, and came to a cone-shaped point at the top.

She rubbed her tired, gritty eyes. “That was one weird raccoon.” Maybe it had been walking on its hind legs or something. Or maybe it was a little bear. Tennessee’s black bear population was growing, and the animals had been seen in the suburbs. Maybe they’d gotten braver and forged even deeper into town. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t eat well tonight. The dumpsters had been emptied that day.

But then it stepped into the strip of light shining into the alley in front of the garbage bins. She almost choked on the swallow of coffee she’d just sipped. The thing looked like a freaking garden gnome. Long, light-colored beard—either gray or a dingy white. Pointed hat. Paunchy in the middle and stubby arms and legs. Seriously?

“I have lost my ever-loving mind,” she said under her breath. She lowered her cup to the counter and stretched closer to the window, blinking hard to make sure she was really seeing this. She’d not had any alcohol at the party. In fact, she never drank anything stronger than a wine spritzer.

Without taking her eyes off the unbelievable little man, she fumbled her phone out of her back pocket, focused it on the visitor, and took a picture. Then she zoomed in and took two more just to make sure she hadn’t messed up the first ones. But then he looked up and locked eyes with her.

A knock on her apartment door jarred her, making her squeak like a cornered mouse. She stared down at her phone. Her doorbell camera hadn’t alerted her, and according to everything she could see within range of the lens, no one was there. Some jerk must have run by her door and knocked just to startle her. She rewound the footage by several minutes, but all it showed was the empty, dimly lit hallway.

Just to be on the safe side, she went to the door and checked all the deadbolts. Everything was as secure as it could be. Crossing back to the kitchen window, she searched the alley below. Empty. Or maybe Mr. Gnome now hid in the darkest shadows. She debated dialing 911, but didn’t. What was she going to tell them? That she’d seen a garden gnome getting ready to do some dumpster diving?

At least she had the pictures as proof she hadn’t lost her mind. She tapped on her phone screen, opened her photo library, then clenched her teeth so tightly her jaws ached. Gone. None of the three pictures of the nocturnal enigma existed. The last photo taken was from earlier in the night with her drivers.

She tossed her phone onto the counter and bowed her head. What. The. Hell. She pulled in a deep breath through her nose, blew it out her mouth, then repeated the action twice more. It had to be the stress, the late hour, and exhaustion playing tricks on her. There was no other explanation. “I’m going to go to bed and pretend this never happened.”

Tomorrow would be a better day. It had to be, because today had totally bottomed out.

*

“Damned if she didn’t see me. I’m that sorry, Callum.” Farbis Langisbeard sadly shook his head. By day, the gnome was the proprietor of Craig Durness’s Wee Sundries and Such, and when necessary, he spied on potential fated mates waiting to be matched. Information was a precious thing when it came to bringing souls together across the centuries. Stealthy as a cat, the mystical being usually blended in with the scenery with no trouble at all. “Looked me right in the eyes, she did. Took pictures, even. By Merlin’s beard, what the devil was she doing at her window when she’s flying out with Morganna in mere hours?”

Unable to sleep without his dear Morganna by his side, Callum waved the man in. The doorstep was no place for this conversation. “Best come in for a drink. Ye know Morganna will have yer arse if Ms. Waterton backs out of the trip because of seeing ye.”

Farbis threw up his hands as he ambled into the cottage, doddering from side to side with his short gait as he followed Callum into the kitchen. “I distracted her with a knock on her door, I did, and deleted them pictures. She’s got no proof of seeing me.” He tapped his temple and winked. “All she’s got is her mind.”

Callum poured them both a generous whisky, took a seat at the table, and magically adjusted the height of the other chair to better suit Farbis’s short stature. “Morganna likes this lass but says the woman still doesn’t fully trust us. When she arrives, we must handle her with greater care than we did the others. I dinna wish to have to erase her memories first thing, ye ken?”

Farbis smacked his lips and thumped his empty glass back onto the table. “I ken, and I be doing my part. I sent a vision of her to the Earl of Blackmorrow through mine and my precious Dierdre’s hill.” He nodded and tapped his glass on the table for a refill. “I believe he took a liking to her.” He smiled proudly even though his eyes glistened with the threat of tears.

Not entirely agreeing with Farbis’s tactics, but loath to scold him, Callum rose to fetch the bottle. Farbis’s beloved Dierdre, a Fae maiden of the Unseelie, had been slain by her kind because she had chosen to love a gnome. Farbis had sworn to mourn his lady love throughout the rest of eternity. Callum filled both their glasses again, then set the bottle on the table. The night called for more than a dram or two.

“How do ye know he took a liking to her?” he asked. A gnome couldn’t as easily blend into the fourteenth century as he could the twenty-first.

After another deep swig of the golden uisge beatha, Fargis tapped on the table again. “I hid behind a cluster of oak saplings and watched. The man’s face fairly glowed, it did. Soon as he saw her. His soul recognized hers. I swear it.”

“I hope ye’re right. Ye know we lost three from our count.”