The Beast of the Loch

By Pelaam

Duncan Muir is a renowned zoologist, but as well as being a professor at a university, he works for a society investigating sightings and attacks by cryptids.

His latest mission is to Scotland where a marine cryptid is reputedly attacking the local sheep. He takes his faithful friend and right-hand man, Potts, to assist.

However, he finds another mystery when he meets the local laird, Lachlan MacIver. The man’s taciturn reputation in the village is at odds with the man Duncan comes to know.

As their relationship develops, the mystery deepens. The cryptids are real. However, Duncan is as equally certain they are innocent of the attacks as he is that Lachlan is in danger.

Duncan must solve the mystery to protect the man he’s grown to love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight
• Release date: Jan 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9780369505132

Pelaam

Living in clean, green New Zealand, Pelaam is a multi-published author of gay romance and erotic books. When not busy writing, she can be found indulging in her other passions of cookery and wine appreciation. Pelaam's books: Smoking Mirror, 2017 finalist in 2017 Rainbow Awards in Gay Futuristic/Sci-Fi; Stranded, Evernight Publishing Readers’ Choice winner 2016 for Sci-Fi; The Avian Emperor, runner up and Honourable Mention in 2016 Rainbow Awards Gay Futuristic/Sci-Fi.

Book preview

Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2022 Pelaam

ISBN: 978-0-3695-0513-2

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Melissa Hosack

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

THE BEAST OF THE LOCH

Cryptid Hunter, 1

Pelaam

Copyright © 2022

Chapter One

A list of names topped his reams of notes, and Duncan paused to read it once more. He couldn’t help but smile at the title of the class: Professor Duncan Muir, zoologist, and zoological studies.

Although the university liked having him on their books, and his classes were always one of the most popular, they never credited him with his profession’s full title. But then, perhaps it was just as well.

Despite having taken classes for several years, the first step into the classroom, or, as in this case, an auditorium, always made Duncan nervous. He took several slow, deep breaths before even considering touching the door handle. With a last deep breath, Duncan turned the handle and strode purposefully to the table set out at the front of the class.

The soft gasp from the audience wasn’t entirely unexpected.  For one thing, he wasn’t an old fossil like so many others of the university’s professors. He was a few years over thirty, but that was positively juvenile compared to the older literature and art professors.

Instead, he presented an almost boyish, clean-shaven appearance, with his slightly unruly mop of dark-brown hair. Nor did Duncan wear one of the voluminous back capes so favored by many of the masters of the hallowed university. Duncan by far preferred his tweed knee-breeches with matching jacket, and a pair of good stout walking shoes.

Several of the young ladies sat up straighter, suddenly more interested in the professor than his subject, while the young men frowned to think they could be taught anything by someone just a few short years older than themselves.

An hour later, things were vastly different. Students were enrapt by his tales or scribbled their notes. Duncan hoped it was his ever-fresh enthusiasm for his subject. In his mind, as much as one might enjoy Shakespeare, producing the same lessons based on the same books year in, year out, would surely take off the shine.

The soft click of the door shutting drew Duncan’s attention, and he turned to see who was so late. Instead, he grinned at the older man’s familiar face. The newcomer nodded at Duncan, glancing at the class, before settling unobtrusively at the back out of the way.

It took a certain amount of self-control to keep excitement out of his voice, but then Duncan couldn’t be sure that the visit heralded a new adventure, but he could hope. Ignoring Matthew’s presence, Duncan continued with his lecture.

Only after the last student had filed out did the latecomer leave his seat and amble over to Duncan.

Duncan greeted him with a robust hug, slapping his back. Good to see you, Matthew.

And you, Duncan. Matthew took a step back and regarded Duncan with an affectionate smile.

Do you have an expedition for me? Duncan lowered his voice and leaned in close.

I see the last didn’t put you off. Matthew laughed softly.

Not at all. I still have everything I should have. Admittedly there had been one or two close calls, but one didn’t study wild creatures without accepting there would be times of danger.

Not here. Matthew shook his head. The university doesn’t entirely approve of your … extracurricular activities. Of course, the board never refuses the remuneration we provide them.

No. I don’t expect they would. How about dinner at my club tonight? Say, six o’clock? We can have a pre-dinner drink first.

Splendid. Sounds perfect. I’ll see you later. With a casual wave, Matthew sauntered away.

The moment the door closed behind Matthew, Duncan gave a whoop of glee. Even though Matthew hadn’t mentioned a definite undertaking, there seemed little point in the man calling upon him, even so far as to drop into a classroom of students, if there wasn’t.

With a spring in his step, Duncan gathered up his papers, already planning what he’d need to take for a new expedition.

Chapter Two

The club Duncan favored was comparatively small, but one in which he felt comfortable and at home. So many clubs required a prospective member to produce an ancestry dating back to King Harold, and references to match, that Duncan felt certain that even Queen Victoria would find difficult to procure.

This club preferred its members to be professionals; doctors, solicitors, and even professors of education like himself. And being a member of such a club, Duncan could, if he truly wished, visit one of the others as a guest. Most assuredly this was a far better arrangement.

Excitement still bubbling in his veins, Duncan took the stairs two at a time and nodded at the doorman as he went inside. In the sizable foyer, Duncan removed his Derby and handed it to the attendant behind the desk.

Mr. Potts has taken care of your guest, sir. A Mr. Matthew Goodknight. He’s in the anteroom with a sherry, sir. Shall I ask Mr. Potts to bring one through for you?

Yes, please. Duncan nodded. Dry for me. He didn’t need escorting there. He knew where it was, just like Potts would know, without the attendant telling him, that Duncan preferred dry sherry to cream.

Without bothering to knock, Duncan opened the door and strode inside the anteroom. Matthew wasn’t the only guest waiting for a member, so there would be no talk of any potential excursions just yet.

At the movement, Matthew looked up, glass in hand, and waved it at Duncan before taking another sip. He smiled as Duncan took a seat opposite him. Nothing like a good cream sherry to whet a man’s appetite.

I prefer dry. But each to their own.

That’s true enough. Tell me, Duncan, have you ever visited Loch Beltane?

I haven’t as yet had that pleasure. A ripple of anticipation spread through Duncan’s body.

It’s a very pleasant loch, not that far from Loch Ness, but a little more easterly. Ah, the legends they tell. As Matthew took another sip of his drink, there was a loud rap, and the door opened.

A neat, tidy man entered, balancing a gleaming silver tray in his right hand, perfectly level with his shoulder, on which was perched a schooner of sherry.

Ah, thank you, Potts. Duncan smiled at his friend. Potts’ first name was almost forgotten in the tides of time, and even Duncan, despite their close friendship, almost never used the name Collingwood.

Your sherry, sir. Potts bowed stiffly. I also took the liberty of bringing you tonight’s menu to peruse while you finish your aperitifs. The menu was produced like a magician’s conjuring trick as he set down the drink.

Thank you, Potts. Much appreciated. Duncan nodded at the dapper man, then turned his attention back to Matthew. You mentioned legends?

Oh, you grew up in Scotland. Matthew’s grey eyes twinkled. You remember the stories of pirates, buccaneers, and smugglers, and some of the legendary beasts that dwell in deep, still waters.

Oh, yes. This time Duncan laughed out loud. Plenty of those. Tell you what, let’s have a look at what’s for dinner and you can tell me about Loch Beltane.

The dinner was as excellent as ever. Duncan enjoyed a bowl of beef consommé, curried lobster with rice, and raspberry cream for dessert. Only when he and Matthew were sharing the stilton and celery did Duncan revisit the real reason for Matthew’s presence.

Now you have some good food inside you, tell me more about this loch. Duncan speared a piece of celery and leaned forward as Matthew replied, his voice soft.

The House of Beltane Mount was rumored to have been built by a successful pirate, and his descendants took to smuggling with the same ease as their predecessors had piracy. There was meant to be a way from the house to the loch, and the loch to the sea. Well, the pirate settled down in the sixteen-hundreds, and the family remained there until the middle of this century. The male of the line died out, and the last lady to carry the name found the house too much of a drain on her resources. It has moldered a little due to lack of finances and attention, but now has a new owner. A perfectly respectable gentleman and his wife. Mr. Lachlan and Mrs. Madeleine MacIver.

Sounds very interesting. The roll of Duncan’s eyes demonstrated the lie of his words, and since only Matthew saw, it resulted in the older man laughing.

Yes, indeed. Now the odd thing is, the pirate’s great grandson ordered the cellars of the house to be bricked up during his reign, so to speak. From about the mid-seventeen-hundreds, it was said that while the cellars remained secure, the house and the village were protected from the curse of the beast of the loch.

"Now that does sound interesting." Duncan hurriedly ate a few more mouthfuls, not wanting the waiter to come over and disturb them.

"As far as I can find from all the archives available, no beast has ever been seen at Loch Beltane. The villagers didn’t speak of one until after the grandson sealed the cellars."

That sounds like it was created to explain the reason for sealing the cellars and to ensure villagers stayed away. What’s changed? Duncan asked.

The new owner decided the cellars would be a good storage place for his wines and got them reopened. Probably about three or so months ago. Local people weren’t happy, but that’s not the worry for us. But in those months, several sheep have gone missing, and, more recently, a footprint was found on the lochside.

Footprint? Duncan dropped his voice low. What kind of footprint?

The kind that belongs to no animal that should be in that water. Matthew’s voice was equally low.

And that’s what you want me to investigate. Duncan had to bank down his excitement.

If you fancy a wee excursion back to your homeland? Matthew’s Scottish accent was abysmal, and Duncan groaned.

I’ll thank you not to mangle my native accent. Duncan allowed his true accent to shine through, purposely falling back into a rustic Scot’s burr.

Mangle? I thought it quite good. Matthew chuckled. You accept then? To look into this mysterious resurgence of the beast of Loch Beltane?

Of course. I’ll need to take Potts with me. Duncan indicated for the man to come over to them.

Yes, sir? Potts asked.

How do you fancy a visit to Scotland to investigate a mysterious beast of the loch, my friend? Duncan asked and Potts flashed one if his rare smiles.

I would enjoy that, sir. Shall I meet you at your rooms after dinner? Potts rubbed his hands and Duncan nodded.

Yes. Get the Club to make up a supper for us both, and I’ll take it back with me while you finish up here. How quickly do you want us to leave, Matthew?

Oh, in about a week. Matthew finished his port. We have a replacement tutor set up for you but promised the university that we’d give you time to go through your itinerary with him before you left.

That’ll be ample time. You and I can mull a few things over tonight, Potts.

Very good, sir. Potts gave a curt bow to both men, then strode toward the kitchens.

A good man to have at your side. Duncan smiled as he watched his friend. And a trustworthy one.

Yes. Matthew nodded. Both will be equally necessary, I should say. Now, how about we have a brandy to conclude a most excellent meal, and I’ll leave you and Potts to get on with it.

Chapter Three

One week later, Duncan was on a train making his way up to Scotland. The ride was pleasurable enough, especially since Matthew had been good enough to ensure Duncan traveled first class. Nor was he traveling alone. At least, not for now. Duncan stole a glance at Potts.

The man was a marvel. Gone was the thin, well-waxed moustache, and slick, waxed-back hair. Potts’s dark hair was au naturel, and, without the wax to hold it down, was thick and lush. Although the moustache had been sacrificed, a goatee beard was already visible in the space of just a few short days.

As Duncan admired the beard’s rapid progress, he felt a sharp shard of jealousy. Although he was blessed with a decent enough coating of chest hair, Duncan had much more downy hair when it came to a beard—if he were to ever bother trying to grow one again.

By comparison, Potts had a good growth, and it grew quickly. Duncan wondered what accent Potts would choose.

Have you decided on your cover story, Pottsy? The nickname was one Duncan would only ever use in private. Even then, Potts eyed him from beneath thick, bushy black eyebrows as Duncan grinned.

I shall be a lepidopterist, Duncan.

A good choice. Right time of year for butterflies. Duncan stretched out with a soft groan. Even in first class, his large frame didn’t remain comfortable for long when stuck in a train seat. Of course, no one can question the motives of a zoologist wanting to be the first to prove the beast’s existence and get his name immortalized.

"Limnisaurus Duncan has a nice ring to it." Potts smirked, a quick twitch of his lips.

Lake lizard Duncan. Hmm, yes well, it won’t be the first time a legend supposedly come to life was shown to be some kind of sham.

Nor will it be the first time you confirmed a cryptid. This time Potts actually smiled, and Duncan nodded slowly.

Always best to go to these places with an open mind. Where will you stay?

There’s an inn with its own accommodation. Sounds about right for me. And yourself, Duncan? The hotel?

Yes, I think so. I’m sending the invoice to the university. Duncan smirked. But Matthew’s department will reimburse them, of course. So as far as anyone checking into me will find, I’m a genuine professor of zoology, up there for a few weeks at the bequest of my university, looking to make a great discovery.

Mmm. Potts nodded. The fewer the lies, the less likely one is to slip up.

I take it you won’t travel all the way up with me? Duncan was certain he already knew the answer.

No. I’ll get off a station or two sooner, then complete my journey in less comfortable surroundings. More in keeping with a moderately wealthy, if slightly eccentric, Englishman.

Hmm, good idea. Staying at the hotel means a little more traveling for me. Duncan rubbed his chin. Although I have it in mind to have a chance meeting or perhaps even call upon the laird of the house, see if I can’t persuade him to take me in. Be close to the source, so to speak.

"A chance meeting?" Potts cocked an eyebrow.

It will be. At least as far as he’s concerned. Goes by the name of Lachlan MacIver. A good Scots name, at least.

"Yes, I know. Before we left, I looked briefly into their backgrounds. He left Scotland to live and party in London. Had a small, intimate circle of friends, if you get my drift?"

Duncan nodded, but then frowned.

"But he’s now