Serpentine (23 page)

A tight ball of shame clenched in Paul’s stomach. Is that what Decker thought? That he was worried he was going to ruin everything? He stared out of the window and watched the trees rush by. He hadn’t meant it that way. They could bail, even now. Okay, so they'd have to dig up something else, but the shoot wasn’t everything...

His face flushed pink as treacherous memories winked in and out of existence, flashing back to arguments, to worries both shared and entirely his own, to selfish, bitter words exchanged that it was about the shoot, without the shoot they had nothing, without the shoot they were fucked…

“The new girl,” Decker said. “You think she’ll be okay?”

Paul looked back. He knew the game. Change the subject to avoid difficult things. For once, he was grateful for it and played along willingly.

“I think she’ll be fine,” he said. “She’s a bit green, but her audition went well and she seemed comfortable enough up by the loch. Piers and Mags say she’s very keen and she's easy on the eyes. She might be just what we need. Okay, so she may not be a believer-”

“But then, who is, right?” Decker grinned, and Paul couldn’t help but grin back. This was far more comfortable territory.

“Hey, we might not have found anything yet, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing out there.”

“Oh man, you crack me up. How long are you going to keep searching, Paul? If the truth is out there, I don’t see it banging on your door any time soon.”

“Hey! You're one to talk. This is your recommendation, remember? If it’s all made up bollocks, why are we here?”

As soon as the words were released, Paul regretted them. He wanted to steer clear of this and there he was, plunging headlong back into it all. Idiot.

Decker checked his mirrors and snapped the indicator on. Ahead of them hung a sign – not the warped, battered mess he had been expecting, but a neatly painted banner that proclaimed: Fàilte a Dùisg a' Pheacaich.

Paul didn't have a clue what it meant, but guessed it was a welcome sign. Even with Decker's coaching, he still struggled to pronounce the name of the town – it sounded something like Dooshk uh fyechkeesch, but he wouldn't like to lay money on it – and so had asked him what it meant in English so he could talk about it without calling it 'the village' or 'that place'. Decker had looked uncomfortable, and for a split second Paul had feared he would shut him out again, which would then trigger another inevitable argument, but thankfully Decker had mumbled 'Sinner's Wake'.

Sinner's Wake. An odd name for a town, and a quick Google search hadn't dug up much, but it still played on his mind. Sinner's Wake. Who has sinned? And how? And what did it mean by 'wake'? Had sinners been awoken? Or did they go there to die? Was it all tied to the legend? And if so, how?

That thought sent a little shiver of traitorous excitement down his back.

“We’re here because we need something special,” Decker continued. Paul gave himself a little mental shake and focused back on his partner. “Do I believe there is something in the loch? I don't know. Chances are it is all just a load of old rubbish. But the legend is creepy, the people here believe in it, and that loch is beautiful in the most eerie, sinister way possible, especially after dark. And I figure that short of footage of Nessie herself, this is about as good as it gets for people in our trade. So that's why we're here, Paul. That reason, and no other.”

Paul wished he could believe him.

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