Monday Morsels: Kilts and Catnip

KILTS AND CATNIP

by Zoe Tasia

CHAPTER 1

 

Shrouded Isle, Scotland:

M

om! Mom, wake up!”

I lifted my head as my eldest’s finger jabbed me in the ribs three times in rapid succession. Teen must maintain minimum touching to avoid icky mommy cooties, no doubt. Despite lack of sleep, my inner monologue continued to function well. The dim night-light from the hall glowed bright enough to reveal Jessie standing beside the bed.

“What?” I rubbed my dry, gritty eyes and winced at the soreness. Late yesterday evening, we arrived at the summer cottage after a grueling drive and a vomit-inducing ferry trip. When the bags still weren’t unpacked by eleven, I opted to go to bed and deal with it tomorrow. Hello, tomorrow.

“Tate’s gone.”

As I swung my legs over to sit up, Jessie stepped back. Her gaze alternated between me and the bedroom the girls shared next to mine. Jessie hugged her chest and fidgeted in that gawky, yet attractive way only fifteen-year-old girls can.

I shook my head. “What do you mean she’s gone?” I squinted at the clock, but I had neglected to reset it to the correct time. A glance out the window revealed the star-filled sky. “Jess! It’s the middle of the night! What the—” I said, barely checking myself before I blurted out a profanity. “Did you check the couch? She probably snuck out to read and fell asleep.” I glanced at my pillow with longing.

Jessie’s nails bit into my forearm and drove the sleep from my mind. My cool, unconcerned teen looked panicked. “I saw a boy take Tate into the woods. We gotta go now or we’ll lose her!” she cried.

Fear drew an icy finger down my spine. Jessie tugged at me. Her eyes opened wide, large, like an anime character’s.

“Tate? Tate, honey, where are you?” I received no answer. I shoved my feet into wellies and threw on my green, corduroy jacket I’d left on a chair. Jessie dragged me toward the door, but suspicious, I pulled free. “What exactly did you see? And I swear, if this is some kind of prank, you and your sister cooked up—”

“No prank.”

“Then what?”

Jessie ran to the living room. “Come on!”

I followed, glanced at the girls’ empty beds in the next room as I passed, then turned up the gas lamp, and blinked owlishly.

“I heard shuffling noises. I looked up and the window was open wide.”

I drew close and squeezed her shoulder. “We left the window open, honey.”

“Not wide open, Mom. We left it cracked this much.” She held up her hands, showing a four-inch gap between them. “I went to lower it and saw a little boy dragging Tate into the woods. Tate was moving slowly, like she was sleepwalking.”

I opened the front door and switched on the porch light. The girls’ room was on the right side of the small house. I rushed around the corner in time to see a bluish light illuminate two figures, one in a nightgown and the other so much into the shadows that I couldn’t make out any detail. They disappeared into the foliage. I knew the ruffled, pink pajamas. They were Tate’s favorite. What was she thinking? She had turned ten this spring and knew better than to wander off with a stranger.

Despite wanting to rush after her, I paused. Bad idea to go into a forest, especially in the dark, Becca. I remembered seeing a large flashlight on top of the refrigerator. Ignoring my warning, I raced back into the kitchen and rose on tiptoe to reach the light, so I could follow.

Jessie gripped my arm. “I’m coming too,” she pleaded.

“Jess, if I hurry, I should be able to get her before I get completely turned around. I need you to stay here and call nine-nine-nine, in case I can’t find her.” Jessie opened her mouth ready to protest. Before she could speak, I added, “My cell is in my purse on the table.” Then I remembered the friendly local we’d met when we first arrived. “Better yet, call Mr. McNeil from the grocery. His number is in my contacts, and he’s sure to know who best to call.”

Jessie rushed to the table for the phone.

Yelling Tate’s name, I ran into the night and dashed toward the forest, thanking God the boy hadn’t taken her to the ocean side of the cottage and carried my baby away in a boat. The forest felt too quiet as I dodged around an enormous oak. I ran until my boot heel caught on a root and made me stumble on the uneven ground. Frantic, I swung the light back and forth searching for my youngest. How could they have gotten so far ahead of me?

“Tate!” I called.

Scuffing my feet and tearing at bushes, I hoped to mark my path so we could find our way back or at least be found. The branch on a log snagged my clothes, and I fell to my knees.

Come on, Becca. Stop panicking. I stood, flipping off the flashlight. After listening for a few seconds, I heard rustling ahead to the north. Once more, though much dimmer, the blue light flickered ahead. I was afraid to switch on my light because it dimmed the indistinct blue. The eerie glow grew fainter. I kept calling and blundered forward, crying out as the light vanished.

“Tate!” I screamed, pausing to turn on the light. I spun, lighting up the dark earth around me. My baby’s gone.

Want to read more?

Magical danger lurks in the forest.

But Greg Gillie, a handsome Scot with a mysterious past, protects the Shrouded Isle and the lands beyond from the mischievous, dangerous fae.

A woman arrives disturbing the wee folk.

Greg’s task becomes harder when American widow, Becca Shaw and her two daughters vacation there. As each day passes, more fae steal away from the forest hill and menace the people in the village, Thistle.

Can this exodus be stopped? 

As Becca encounters an array of magical creatures, she strives to repair her relationship with her two still-grieving girls and befriend the suspicious villagers. Greg and Becca must work together to solve the mystery of why the fae are escaping and discover how to prevent it while they struggle with their blossoming feelings for one another.

For their sake and the sake of the world, let’s hope they’re up to the task.

Kilts and Catnip, the first book in a new fantasy series, is filled with sweet romance, delightful humor, and exciting adventure.

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