“MacDowell?” He snorts, shooting me a look that’s equal parts pity and amusement. “You’re about three hundred years too late for that, lassie. Wolf Campbell is the one you want—over there behind the bar.”
I try not to gasp as my gaze lands on a towering figure with eyes colder than a rainy afternoon inInverness. Definitely a Campbell through and through.
“Thanks,” I mumble, quickly re-lacing my left boot before approaching this Wolf character—because if there’s one thing I’ve learned so far, it’s that properly laced boots can make all the difference when dealing with a Campbell.
“Hi,” I start, striving for calm in my voice. “I was hoping to speak with Cam MacDowell...”
Wolf cuts me off mid-sentence, his tone oozing disdain. “No MacDowells here, lassie. This town is Campbell territory, and this joint’s mine.”
Territory? My chest tightens at the thought of this warped reality Cal and I have stumbled into.
“So... nice place you’ve got here,” I venture casually, leaning against the bar. “How’d you come to own Campbell’s Cavern?”
Wolf barely looks up from his cleaning, his voice gruff. “Been in my family for centuries.”
“Centuries?” I echo, struggling to keep my shock under wraps. “That’s... impressive.” My mind races with the implications.
Something went horribly awry when Cal and I jumped into the Loch Ness Portal.
“Yeah,” Wolf replies curtly, clearly uninterested in further chit-chat.
“I bet it’s fascinating, running a place with so much history,” I press on, undeterred.
“Stories,” he snorts dismissively, finally meetingmy gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Who needs stories? Ye outsiders are all the same...”
I defend myself as best as I can while my thoughts twist like a cyclone—what happened to Aven Valley? And more importantly, how can Cal and I fix it?
“If you ever fancy swapping tales,” I offer lightly despite the dread coiling inside me.
He declines politely but firmly. Turning away from the bar, I scan the room for any hint that could help me decode this perplexing new world.
“This place reminds me of a pair of well-loved sneakers,” I call out, my voice a bit too bright. “They’ve seen better days, sure, and they might even be a bit funky. But there’s something about them that keeps pulling you back.”
Wolf’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening at my metaphor. A twinge of regret pricks me. That was probably not the best way to lighten the mood.
“Who are ye calling smelly?” His voice is chilly, suspicion heavy in each word. “Are ye one of those MacDowells? Always poking around where ye shouldn’t!”
I blink, taken aback by his sudden hostility. “MacDowell? No... I’m just visiting. Looking for Cameron and Callum, actually, but it seems I’ve got the wrong address.”
“Clearly,” Wolf mutters with a derisive snort. “The MacDowells’ land has been long gone. And good riddance.”
I swallow hard against the unease bubbling up inside me. “Right,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thanks for your... hospitality.”
As I turn from the bar, my mind races with worry and confusion. What happened to Aven Valley? Why does this feud between Campbells and MacDowells seem so much more intense than before?
He calls after me just as I’m about to leave, curiosity finally winning over his frosty demeanor. “What’s yer name?”
“Amelia Sutherland,” I reply after a moment’s hesitation.
His eyebrows furrow in thought but he shakes his head dismissively after a beat or two. “Never heard of ya’. Stay outta trouble though; we don’t need any more drama here.”
I force a weak smile as I step away from him. “Trust me, I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just need to find my friends and go home.”
He snorts in response, turning back to his glass polishing. “Good luck with that.”
My thoughts are a tangled mess of doubt and fear as I distance myself from the bar. I need to find Cal—God, I hope he’s safe—and figure out how we can fix whatever damage we’ve done by traveling through the Portal. But first, I have to understand this unfamiliar Aven Valley better, which means it’s time for Detective Amelia Sutherland.
Feeling dizzy and overwhelmed, I slide into acorner table and order a plate of fries; comfort food might help me focus better. As I munch on a fry, my mind drifts back to Rosewood Cottage and its peaceful seaside cove that used to be my sanctuary from reality. Now, though, reality has slammed into me like a tidal wave, and all I can do is try not to drown.
