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Evie came out of the back cabin dressed in the burgundy sweater and skirt. “Keir, can we speak for a moment?”
“Aye.” I grabbed my suit jacket and slipped it on. She looked beautiful, and no matter how hard I tried to deny my attraction to her, I couldn’t.
She came over to me and lowered her voice. “I never told my brothers or Cormac anything about that weekend.”
“I know,” I said quickly. “I never thought you did.”
“Then why didn’t you say so.”
“Look, it’s going to be a long day. It’s best if we focus on that now, and hopefully, by tonight, we can put this behind us.”
Mac popped his head in from the plane’s entrance. “The cars are ready. I’ll get the luggage.”
Evie grabbed her coat and purse, and I took her hand, leading her down the stairs.
We decided it would be best if Mac took our luggage to my residence in Edinburgh while Alan, John, Evie, and I traveled to Glasgow until he could meet us there. I opened the back door of the black Range Rover and helped her in, then went around to the other side and got in the seat next to her. Alan and John both sat up front, with Alan driving.
“John and I each submitted a writ to the court, which they denied because you don’t meet the requirements, so this proof is your opportunity to plead your case to the sheriff,” Alan said, turning onto the M8.
“Why wouldn’t they agree?” Evie asked.
“Scotland has strict laws on divorce,” John answered. “But Mr. Wilson has a name with a lot of clout. Hopefully, it will help in this matter.”
The car sped along the motorway between Scotland’s two biggest cities. I was busy looking at email on my mobile when Evie spoke. “What’s that,” she said, pointing out the window.
“It’s the Kelpies,” Alan explained.
“Kelpies?” she questioned. “They look like horses.”
My chest tightened. It was just another bloody fucking thing I hated about going to Glasgow.
“They are water horses. Supernatural creatures that haunt Scotland’s rivers, burns, and lochs waiting to lure passing travelers to their watery grave,” Alan explained.
“They’re beautiful,” Evie said.
I shook my head. They were steel monstrosities that stood over ten stories high. A diabolical statue of the fucking beast that resided in me. And salt in a wound every time I saw them.
“Don’t let their beauty deceive you, lass,” John said. “They’re wicked creatures. Shapeshifters that come to shore as handsome young men only to woo their victims into the water and devour them, throwing the entrails onto the shore. Or they appear like a beautiful black horse with wings and hooves reversed like Satan himself.”
“You’ll scare her if you carry on like that.” I put my hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze.
She laughed. “I would hardly be scared over a child’s tale.”
“But it’s not a child’s tale,” John emphasized. “Robert Burns even wrote of them in his poemAddress to the Devil:
Then water-kelpies haunt the foord
By your direction,
An’ nighted trav’lers are allur’d
To their destruction.”
“He’s right,” Alan seconded. “Scotland might be steeped in superstition, but it’s best not to tempt fate. You have to remember there’s always some truth to every tale.”
Glasgow sat ahead. It was covered in dark gray skies pungent with inevitable rain. A perfectly depressing representation of the city’s rampant unemployment, deprivation, inequality, and alarmingly high mortality rate. It was known as the ‘Glasgow effect’. Where residents were thirty percent more likely to die young. I swore I would never come back after I escaped. Yet here I was.
We crossed over the river Clyde, and Alan exited the motorway, turning down several streets until we came to the courthouse. He parked the car.
