Read Online Haunted Warrior by Allie Mackay - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allie Mackay
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Stella lager?” Iain tried one last time to dissuade her.
A flurry of exchanged glances and elbow nudges atthe bar helped her stay firm. “No, thanks. I’m sure it’s good, but…” She sat back in her seat and shook her head. “I’m sticking with the strong ale.”
Iain shot an annoyed look at the men at the bar, but nodded and left her.
It was then, once she was alone at the little corner table and the locals returned to their own business, that some of the pub’s coziness retreated. It was no more than a ripple in the air, yet a new and disturbing current had entered the atmosphere, tingeing the feel of the crowded room.
Kendra’s nape prickled, bringing back the ill ease she’d felt on first arriving in Pennard. An image of the empty house flashed across her mind, the strong aura of menace almost palpable again. The sensation had been fleeting, and had left her completely when she’d reached Graeme MacGrath’s cottage. But that could’ve been because she’d raised her guards, allowing protective white-light energy to fill and surround her until she was ready to lower her shields so Pennard’s unhappy discarnates could approach her.
Even then she’d been aware of something.
Yet upon entering the Laughing Gull moments ago, she’d almost believed she’d imagined her initial reaction to the fishing village.
Now…
She tensed with a sense of keen awareness, her nerve endings alert to everything around her.
Breathe deep. Relax. This is your night off to unwind and enjoy. A well-deserved break. Inhale fully; exhale slow…
She spoke the words in her mind, using the soft orange glow of the fire’s peat bricks to focus on until she felt balanced again.
“Your Hibernator, miss.” Janet, the serving woman, arrived with her pint of strong ale. Her expression said she didn’t approve of women drinking stout.
“Thank you.” Kendra took a deliberate sip, sure thewoman also didn’t care for young American females visiting pubs on their own.
“Anything else?” The woman looked at her, her lips tightening even more when Kendra took a second swallow of the dark ale.
“A glass of water, please.” Kendra regretted asking, but impressing the dour Scotswoman wasn’t worth suffering a headache later. “I prefer still, if you have it—no fizzy water.”
Fizzy water made her stomach ache.
Janet’s sourness made it difficult to reclaim the mood of cheery warmth that had greeted her on entering the inn. The woman’s disapproval hung in the air, even after she’d marched back to the bar.
Blot her from your mind.
Kendra glanced again at the peat fire, wishing it wasn’t half hidden by the legs of the nearby tables and chairs.
Even so, the soft glimmer of the peat was soothing. And the earthy-sweet smoke added just enough haze to the air to enhance the pub’s old-fashioned, lamp-lit ambience.
Whatever had brought her here and the outcome of her stay, the Laughing Gull and the out-of-the-way village outside the inn’s thick-set windows was a special place, caught in a time long past.
Almost inaccessible and sequestered, Pennard was just the kind of haven that should always remain serene and tranquil, a place apart from the rest of the world. Unaffected by the traffic-filled brashness of loud, teeming cities and suburbs, as existed elsewhere.
Kendra’s heart clenched when a small man with a weather-beaten face caught her eye and gallantly tipped his cap to her as he hopped off his bar stool and headed for the door. Watching him as he stepped out into the cold, dark mist and disappeared into the whirling gray mass as easily as suited brokers strode down the streetsof Manhattan drove home just how appealing she found little Pennard with its mini harbor, colorful fishing boats, and blue-painted benches.
She tightened her fingers on the pint glass, her gaze going again to the peat fire. Images of crowded sidewalks, exhaust fumes, and billboard-lined highways flashed
A flurry of exchanged glances and elbow nudges atthe bar helped her stay firm. “No, thanks. I’m sure it’s good, but…” She sat back in her seat and shook her head. “I’m sticking with the strong ale.”
Iain shot an annoyed look at the men at the bar, but nodded and left her.
It was then, once she was alone at the little corner table and the locals returned to their own business, that some of the pub’s coziness retreated. It was no more than a ripple in the air, yet a new and disturbing current had entered the atmosphere, tingeing the feel of the crowded room.
Kendra’s nape prickled, bringing back the ill ease she’d felt on first arriving in Pennard. An image of the empty house flashed across her mind, the strong aura of menace almost palpable again. The sensation had been fleeting, and had left her completely when she’d reached Graeme MacGrath’s cottage. But that could’ve been because she’d raised her guards, allowing protective white-light energy to fill and surround her until she was ready to lower her shields so Pennard’s unhappy discarnates could approach her.
Even then she’d been aware of something.
Yet upon entering the Laughing Gull moments ago, she’d almost believed she’d imagined her initial reaction to the fishing village.
Now…
She tensed with a sense of keen awareness, her nerve endings alert to everything around her.
Breathe deep. Relax. This is your night off to unwind and enjoy. A well-deserved break. Inhale fully; exhale slow…
She spoke the words in her mind, using the soft orange glow of the fire’s peat bricks to focus on until she felt balanced again.
“Your Hibernator, miss.” Janet, the serving woman, arrived with her pint of strong ale. Her expression said she didn’t approve of women drinking stout.
“Thank you.” Kendra took a deliberate sip, sure thewoman also didn’t care for young American females visiting pubs on their own.
“Anything else?” The woman looked at her, her lips tightening even more when Kendra took a second swallow of the dark ale.
“A glass of water, please.” Kendra regretted asking, but impressing the dour Scotswoman wasn’t worth suffering a headache later. “I prefer still, if you have it—no fizzy water.”
Fizzy water made her stomach ache.
Janet’s sourness made it difficult to reclaim the mood of cheery warmth that had greeted her on entering the inn. The woman’s disapproval hung in the air, even after she’d marched back to the bar.
Blot her from your mind.
Kendra glanced again at the peat fire, wishing it wasn’t half hidden by the legs of the nearby tables and chairs.
Even so, the soft glimmer of the peat was soothing. And the earthy-sweet smoke added just enough haze to the air to enhance the pub’s old-fashioned, lamp-lit ambience.
Whatever had brought her here and the outcome of her stay, the Laughing Gull and the out-of-the-way village outside the inn’s thick-set windows was a special place, caught in a time long past.
Almost inaccessible and sequestered, Pennard was just the kind of haven that should always remain serene and tranquil, a place apart from the rest of the world. Unaffected by the traffic-filled brashness of loud, teeming cities and suburbs, as existed elsewhere.
Kendra’s heart clenched when a small man with a weather-beaten face caught her eye and gallantly tipped his cap to her as he hopped off his bar stool and headed for the door. Watching him as he stepped out into the cold, dark mist and disappeared into the whirling gray mass as easily as suited brokers strode down the streetsof Manhattan drove home just how appealing she found little Pennard with its mini harbor, colorful fishing boats, and blue-painted benches.
She tightened her fingers on the pint glass, her gaze going again to the peat fire. Images of crowded sidewalks, exhaust fumes, and billboard-lined highways flashed
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