Chapter 13: Business About Town

We came back to the Bear and Shield Inn to find Peter and Samael playing a round of poker with some old fishermen that smelled of Loch Linslear's daily catch. Samael's black hair cut an elegant silhouette on his hook nose, and his angular jawline and peculiarly blue eyes melded together in an odd, foreboding beauty.

"Ace of Spades," Samael proclaimed, sweeping the gambling pot with a royal flush.

"Ah, playing craps with a Laird will leave ye in ruin!" a fisherman with a cloudy red beard said, depressed. "Aye, Laird Black, you win yet again."

"I shall buy us all American Pilsners with this, eh? This round is on me. Enough gambling, my new friends, I see my lass," Samael smiled, packing up the card deck and ordering a round of Pennsylvanian Pilsners from the Innkeeper, Begonia.

We told Samael and Peter of the information we had gathered on the kelpie, its victims, and how the bar sinister lads were trying to become Monster Rangers in their own right – but had thus far failed to defend Pottsmouth.

"They must be drawing their power from somewhere, to fight the kelpie, especially if it is Silverhoof as the shopkeeper told you," Peter drawled, nursing a gin and tonic after his last beer.

I stirred my sherry, then nursed it. "Yes, one would suspect a pact with the fey. Perhaps Jenny Greenteeth, she is most powerful at water's edge."

"To do so, they would have to offer Spinning Jenny bl – blood. All of Spinning Jenny's daughters are my cousins, and like the Annises, crave fl- flesh," Annis said, crossing herself. "Even if this Clophan and his rowdy counterfeit Hellfire Club means well, they are summoning Silverhoof somehow. And using magickal armaments their fathers, as true nobility, would never give a bastard breed."

"So, dark magick," I sighed, foiling my hands across Samael's. The claddagh cushion box burnt in my pocket. "We will plan later. Samael, Romeo and Juliet is playing at the theater at 2 PM – shall we ready ourselves? Some respite would do wonders for our health and stamina for tonight. And I must try on the fit of our clothes to see if we will blend in as gay strumpets tonight on the shores of debauchery."

Samael smiled. "Let us retire for a bit," he said, gently guiding me up the stairs. The fishermen, all rosy cheeked, bid us adieu.

"Beware King Kelpie who haunts Linslear," the ginger fisherman said, crossing himself like Annis.

Samael and I closed the doors on our palatial sweet. The Inn was wealthy, with patterns of wildflowers for each room – we were in the Queen Anne's Lace Suite, typically a honeymoon suite for lesser nobility vacationing to Linslear on leave from London or Edinburgh, but Samael's coin ran far. I collapsed onto the bed, my shopping bags in hand. Samael picked them up and began delicately organizing the French lingerie, shawls, tartans, and dresses I had picked up at the shop.

"These are quite beautiful, and my how the wool smells delicious." Samael pressed the wool of the MacKay style tartan to his cheek. He smiled. "It feels soft as your hands."

I looked at my callused hands, smiling at his sweet words. "You know as well as I that I have working hands, good for chopping wood and carrying a saber or gun. These are the hands of a Ranger."

"And my hands are the ones who slew Sodom and Gomorr. Let us not compare battle scars, my honey badger," Samael laughed, sitting on the bed, and rubbing my feet. I smiled as he took my boots off, kneading the soles of my socks.

"Ah, that tickles!" I laughed. "Samael, the Line of Cain. Is that why – why Puther and Redelia came back from the shadows, and cursed my family?"

Samael sighed, sitting like a praying cat down beside me and letting his invisible wings manifest, wrapping me in sweet barn owl feathers to cushion the blows to my pride. "It is why the Crom Cruach, or Wyrm of Balor, hungers for you. Demons feast upon the flesh of Cain – many of his descendants fed the Lords of Hell over the years, giving them powers unknowable. It is said, whoever eats the heart of Qayin, has the power of toppling Adonai. Bullcrap, if you ask me, but Michael and I have faced many a foe emboldened by your ancestor's flesh. It is my idea the Wyrm of Balor was stirred from sleep over the centuries for that same reason and settled at Invermoore to wait for the right moment to strike the most powerful heir."

Samael turned to his side, stroking my platinum white hair. He blew a strand playfully. "You are not afraid, are you? You know I would rather be bound in Tartarus for eternity then ever let you suffer."

"There are still ways for me to die, our pact notwithstanding," I sighed, eying him evenly. I laced my fingers atop his chest and stroked the small dark sprouts of hair. His olive skin was like a shade of sunlight on the Amalfi Coast. "There is tell a certain Rabbi bound you before."

He soured. "Tis true. I do not like to dwell on my shortcomings. I like to think I am wiser now, than I was in my youth. I would say, Eve bound me the most though."

"And Lilith?"

"She was more my equal. Now, she far surpasses me in grace and beauty, the Queen of Hell with Eve as her Bride."

I laughed. "Ah, so Eve left Adam."

"Adam sticks close to Father, rarely leaving his side. I believe he greatly disappointed both Lilith and Eve in the marital bed."

"And you pleased them?"

"Not enough for them to not abscond to the Isle of Lesbos together."

I laughed, tickling him. "Fair! You please me an awful lot though."

We kissed, his gentle touch drawing thistles and roses like Castletown blooms across my fulsome flesh. When we were done canoodling me, he cradled to me his breast as a soft rain fell.

"Shall we dress, then see Romeo and Juliet?" I asked, smiling dreamily as lightning crashed. It reminded me of the heart of God, dark and deep.

Samael kissed my brow like pressing a seal of blessing onto my soul. "Yes, my love, let us go on our date. But I must know... what glows in a cushion cut box in your pocket? A sparkly gewgaw from the store like all maidens love?" He winked at me. "You are too cute, my Abigail Virginia MacKay. Named for the Virgin Queen herself."

I blushed. "I, Samael... I bought you a claddagh and – and myself one. I thought, even though I have this beautiful engagement ring-

I looked at the blue diamond with gray pearls on electrum in awe. He caressed my ring finger.

"That we could match," I admitted. "I wanted you to have a remembrance of me, when you shepherd souls at night."

He smiled. We slipped the rings on in silence, turned to show we were betrothed, and he deeply kissed me, as if drinking wine from my throat.

We went to the theater, watching the play to much delight. Dinner was an Italian eatery some immigrants had started, and I had spaghetti aglio et olio as Samael delicately chewed on veal sambuca.

"Tybalt really stole the show," I said, smiling.

Samael winked. "I couldn't keep my eyes off you – expressions like a rabbit, surprise, delight, expectation. I have seen Romeo and Juliet, and the Bard's other plays, especially The Tempest, hundreds upon hundreds of times, so great is my love of Shakespeare. The iambic pentameter never gets old, and the Scottish Play never fails to grip me to my seat. But seeing these, all of these human experiences, through my beloved's eyes, is like being born anew in blood and soul."

I squeezed his hands, tears in my eyes, and took a drink of Chardonnay. "Samael, you are a poet."

He smiled softly, kissing my ring finger. Our claddaghs shined on our hands. "You eke the enchanted words out of me."

I did not want the night to end.

But we

Had Hunting

To do.