Shot Through The Heart (Supernature Book 1) by Edwin James Read Free Book Online Page A

pub a few times," he said. "Come away inside, the kettle's just boiled and I've got a pot of tea on."
    Mark had drunk four cups in the tea room, but still followed him into a small dark room.  
    The blacksmith pottered around in the kitchenette just off the lounge, and eventually came through with a tray carrying two cups, a jug of milk and a metal teapot with a wooden handle. Mark wondered if it had been fashioned in the forge as the blacksmith poured out two cups.
    "Best cup of tea in the village," said the blacksmith, taking a sip though it was still boiling hot, "even if I do say so myself."
    "You've not got much competition," said Mark, thinking back to the dire pot Harris had served first thing, though the tea room hadn't been too bad.
    "Now, son," said the blacksmith, "seeing as how you're not here for my crafts, how can I help you?"
    "I'm looking for my researcher," said Mark, frustrated at the blacksmith's appalling memory.
    "Oh aye, as I said, I saw her in the bar up at the Hotel a couple of times," said the blacksmith. "I'm not much of a drinker, you understand, but I occasionally like a game of darts or dominoes."
    "Did you see her speaking to anyone?" asked Mark.
    The blacksmith shook his head. "She was just sitting at a table," he said, "keeping herself to herself, working at one of them computers that you can take about with you."
    "A laptop?" asked Mark.
    The blacksmith's eyes filled with wonder. "Is that what they're called?" he asked, eyes glazing over. "Well, I never."  
    Mark took another drink of tea. "I'm writing a book on the Highland Clearances," he said. "Just wondered if you had any opinions on it?"
    "And why would I?" asked the blacksmith.
    "Well, you have an ancient craft," said Mark. "I'd be surprised if you didn't have an opinion."
    "Well, it's true my family have been doing this for a long time," said the blacksmith. He took a deep breath. "What do you want to know?"
    "Just your point of view," said Mark.  
    "It's a fair bit lower than other people's," said the blacksmith, his beard twisting into a wide smile.
    Mark laughed, then explained his approach to his work - the three waves and the mystery around the middle one, the so-called First Wave.
    The blacksmith whistled. "You're brave, son," he said. "I'll say that for you. Especially with a name like that."
    "The Clan Campbell wasn't explicitly involved in the Clearances," said Mark. "It wasn't a key perpetrator."
    The blacksmith grinned. "Aye, well," he said, "next you'll be exonerating them for Glencoe." He took a deep breath.  
    "The Clearances. Nasty business, driven by greed and envy. The Chieftains were supposed to protect their Clans, not betray them. They weren't special, weren't put there by God or whatever people might believe. They were just stupid men, blighted by their own greed and ignorance."
    The blacksmith shook his head and stroked his wild beard. "Deforesting the land, introducing sheep, pushing crofters from their feudal homes. It was barbaric - worse than your lot at Glencoe, I have to say."
    Mark wrote it all down in his notebook. "So, it's not well regarded around these parts?" he asked.
    "Hardly, son," said the blacksmith. "There were folk tales of grave misdeeds, generally in the First Clearance."
    Mark was suddenly interested - it chimed with what he'd heard from John. "What sort of thing?" he asked.
    The blacksmith beamed. "Lost in the mists of time, I'm afraid," he said. "We used to have songs as kids, you know? Like Ring-a-ring-o'-roses , children's songs that actually tell a very interesting adult story."
    "How did they go?" asked Mark, scribbling it down.
    "Something about someone's head being on fire," said the blacksmith, "and their claws being out."
    "What's that got to do with the Highland Clearances?" asked Mark, frowning while he jotted.
    The blacksmith paused for a few seconds. "If I remember," he said, "there was one song, something about the land being cleared of some blight and filled up with