heart. Devotion and kindness radiated from Moira’s eyes as she stood with the balled up plastic clenched against her heaving chest. Well, dammit. Emma huffed an exasperated snort. For Moira’s sake, she couldn’t declare war on Dr. Smart-ass. Hurting Moira would be like kicking a puppy. “I’ll play nice, Moira,” Emma promised, switching off the light. “But I’m not cowing down and taking any crap.”
“Oh no. No crap.” Moira snapped her head forward in agreement. She scurried alongside Emma and closed the exam room door with a firm click behind them. “We women have known for centuries how to bend men to our will without taking any of their crap.”
No sooner had the words left Moira’s lips then the shining wire cages surrounding the gleaming bulbs rattled and shook with an agitated fervor. Emma stumbled against the smooth concrete wall as the floor lurched beneath her feet. “What the…” Pressing her back against the wall, Emma shifted to a more stable position as a potted plant rattled out of the window and shattered against the floor. An earthquake? On the Isle of Lewis? “Moira.” Emma flinched as a metal tray of instruments clattered into the stainless steel sink in the utility room. “Moira, since when does the Isle of Lewis have earthquakes?”
Moira peeped out from under the clipboard held over her head and scowled at the swaying light fixtures. “‘Tis the beast. He’s up to no good again. He rattles the earth when he’s about to go on one of his rampages and attack the land.”
A beast? What kind of beast? Shocked amazement replaced the uneasiness squeezing the air out of her lungs. Surely, Moira had to be kidding. “Moira. A beast? Seriously?” Emma scooted the computer monitor farther away from the edge of the desk and stretched to scoop up a handful of spilled files. “I know I didn’t find any evidence of earthquakes in this region for several hundred years but that doesn’t mean it’s some sort of beast. I mean really, Moira. This is the twenty-first century. Beasts? Come on. There’s got to be a scientific explanation.”
“I know what I know.” Moira sniffed. Wounded pride pulled down the corners of her mouth. “And if there’s one thing I’m an expert on, it’s the history of my birthplace.” With an irritated grunt, Moira stooped to gather a scattered handful of multi-colored ink pens still spinning across the floor. “Ye’ve never heard of recent earthquakes here because we know that’s no’ what’s shaking the land. The isle trembles whenever the beast stirs from the bowels of his lair. Mark my words, Dr. Emma; a terrible disaster looms on the horizon. It happens after every shaking of the ground and ’tis becoming much more frequent of late.”
Emma clamped her mouth shut. The determined look on Moira’s face stifled any further arguments. It was useless. No matter what scientific data Emma provided, it was obvious Moira wouldn’t buy it.
The stubborn old woman shook her head again with firm certainty before Emma even had the chance to say another word. Obviously, Moira believed some sort of monster shook the ground whenever he awoke from his nap. Or at least whenever he decided to wander around the island. Emma had read about the Scots’ phenomenal belief in superstitions. She sighed as she tapped the edges of the mess of papers on the desk until the wad settled into a neat pile. Looked like she had her work cut out for her here in more ways than one.
Chapter Eight
“‘Tis time, Arach. Ye’ve served yer purpose. ’Tis time for ye to go back through the portals and torment this world no more.” The Cailleach’ s solemn voice rumbled like distant thunder atop the ocean breeze wafting across the face of the cliff.
“Go?” Arach pulled one eye open. Hoisting his head slowly from atop his folded arms, he shook it hard from side to side. The worrisome midges buzzing about his oozing jowls scattered into the air. “Why would I wish to leave
“Oh no. No crap.” Moira snapped her head forward in agreement. She scurried alongside Emma and closed the exam room door with a firm click behind them. “We women have known for centuries how to bend men to our will without taking any of their crap.”
No sooner had the words left Moira’s lips then the shining wire cages surrounding the gleaming bulbs rattled and shook with an agitated fervor. Emma stumbled against the smooth concrete wall as the floor lurched beneath her feet. “What the…” Pressing her back against the wall, Emma shifted to a more stable position as a potted plant rattled out of the window and shattered against the floor. An earthquake? On the Isle of Lewis? “Moira.” Emma flinched as a metal tray of instruments clattered into the stainless steel sink in the utility room. “Moira, since when does the Isle of Lewis have earthquakes?”
Moira peeped out from under the clipboard held over her head and scowled at the swaying light fixtures. “‘Tis the beast. He’s up to no good again. He rattles the earth when he’s about to go on one of his rampages and attack the land.”
A beast? What kind of beast? Shocked amazement replaced the uneasiness squeezing the air out of her lungs. Surely, Moira had to be kidding. “Moira. A beast? Seriously?” Emma scooted the computer monitor farther away from the edge of the desk and stretched to scoop up a handful of spilled files. “I know I didn’t find any evidence of earthquakes in this region for several hundred years but that doesn’t mean it’s some sort of beast. I mean really, Moira. This is the twenty-first century. Beasts? Come on. There’s got to be a scientific explanation.”
“I know what I know.” Moira sniffed. Wounded pride pulled down the corners of her mouth. “And if there’s one thing I’m an expert on, it’s the history of my birthplace.” With an irritated grunt, Moira stooped to gather a scattered handful of multi-colored ink pens still spinning across the floor. “Ye’ve never heard of recent earthquakes here because we know that’s no’ what’s shaking the land. The isle trembles whenever the beast stirs from the bowels of his lair. Mark my words, Dr. Emma; a terrible disaster looms on the horizon. It happens after every shaking of the ground and ’tis becoming much more frequent of late.”
Emma clamped her mouth shut. The determined look on Moira’s face stifled any further arguments. It was useless. No matter what scientific data Emma provided, it was obvious Moira wouldn’t buy it.
The stubborn old woman shook her head again with firm certainty before Emma even had the chance to say another word. Obviously, Moira believed some sort of monster shook the ground whenever he awoke from his nap. Or at least whenever he decided to wander around the island. Emma had read about the Scots’ phenomenal belief in superstitions. She sighed as she tapped the edges of the mess of papers on the desk until the wad settled into a neat pile. Looked like she had her work cut out for her here in more ways than one.
Chapter Eight
“‘Tis time, Arach. Ye’ve served yer purpose. ’Tis time for ye to go back through the portals and torment this world no more.” The Cailleach’ s solemn voice rumbled like distant thunder atop the ocean breeze wafting across the face of the cliff.
“Go?” Arach pulled one eye open. Hoisting his head slowly from atop his folded arms, he shook it hard from side to side. The worrisome midges buzzing about his oozing jowls scattered into the air. “Why would I wish to leave
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