The Wyrd of Willowmere

Chapter 4

They met again after school in the parking lot, where Brian's grey Honda sat. As they got into the car Donna and Linda came walking down the concrete path and spotted them. Donna stopped short. "You guys going somewhere?"

"Just getting a lift to my friend's place. I have to walk her dog," Claire called back, feeling oddly guilty and uncomfortable. Did Donna resent not being included? Would this little outing cause problems for Brian, or the group as a whole? People! she thought. They're so complicated. No wonder I spend so much time alone ...

She gave Brian the directions to Willowmere and they set off. "Wow," he said as they drove up the winding driveway. "Just—wow. She owns all this? Your friend must be a multimillionaire."

"I don't know. Maybe. I just know her uncle left her a fortune— and he inherited it from his parents. The Ramsay family was in some business, shipping I think, and did really well way back when. Of course Myra's doing pretty well on her own. She's a nature writer—she does all kinds of TV documentaries too and she's getting to be quite famous. I'm sorry you're seeing the grounds for the first time in November," she added as Brian parked the car. "They're absolutely incredible in spring and summer: flower beds everywhere, and a fountain, and the grass is so green and well-kept." Even in November, with the trees stripped of their leaves and the grass dulled to a brownish hue, the property was still impressive. The view was more open now, the abundant statuary and outbuildings standing in plain sight without the thick leafy screens of shrubbery to hide them. And it's harder for enemy daimons' animal hosts to hide and spy on us, Claire thought as she and Brian got out of the car and walked towards the house. That was just as well: Matilda had been using Myra's pet peacock Dudley as a sort of mobile security camera to patrol the grounds, but it was too cold for him to be outside now.

"The house is fantastic too," Brian said, looking up at the tower and the gingerbread eaves.

"Yeah, fantastic is a good word for it. It's like something out of a fairy tale." Claire smiled as she recalled walking up those front steps for the first time. It had been like walking straight into "Hansel and Gretel," she had thought then—little suspecting the stunning secrets that would eventually be revealed to her within. Her life had changed forever at Willowmere.

Myra's collie dog came rushing to meet them in the front hall. He barked at Brian, then stopped and sniffed at his jacket with interest. Brian laughed. "I went out and got some dog treats on my spare," he said, taking a biscuit out of his pocket. "Here you go, boy." He tossed the biscuit to the dog, who snapped it out of mid-air like an alligator.

Claire grinned. "Now he's your friend for life," she said.

"He's a beautiful dog. Looks expensive."

"He's the last of the Willowmere collies. The Ramsay family used to breed them, according to Myra, and in the old days there'd be a whole pack of them roaming around the property. The Ramsays came from Scotland originally, you see, and they had this obsession with anything Scottish. They'd eat haggis, and play the bagpipes, and their men wore kilts to parties, and all that kind of thing. So of course they kept collies because the breed's Scottish, and they gave them names like Hamish or Jeannie. This is Angus MacTavish."

"Hi Angus." Brian stooped to stroke the collie's ears. "Quite the aristocrat, aren't you?"

"Yes, he is. Got a pedigree longer than your arm, though he isn't terribly bright. Myra's uncle tried to improve the collies by breeding them for brains instead of looks, but I don't think he was all that successful."

Brian laughed again and straightened up. "Well, shall we go?" he asked.

"Okay. I'll just get his leash."