Page 53 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever?—”

Robbie stuck his head around the door jamb. “Bloody Mary!”

“That isnae— okay. I’ll give ye that one,” Callum said, his laugh booming in the kitchen.

“Woo! One Bloody Mary, coming right up!”

“Wash yer neck!” Callum yelled.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Callum was there in a flash, opening it to reveal Nat Jasper’s tall, lanky body.

“Sorry to drop in like this,” Nat said, bouncing a bit on his heels. He wore broken-in khaki work pants and a gray T-shirt with a National Parks logo. His hands were stuffed into his pockets.

“Hello, Nat,” Callum asked, moving back toward the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

“Good evening,” Nat said, stepping into the warm cabin. “I’m headed out for a hunt and wondered if you would want to join me.”

At the bonfire, Nat had told Callum more about how he lived entirely on the large animals in the national park where he worked. That he thrived on that blood, in fact, and that no animals lost their lives in the process, despite what Magda had told him. The idea was intriguing, even more so now.

He glanced at Robbie, who was now drinking milk straight from the gallon jug. Robbie put the milk down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It occurred to him that much like Robbie didn’t want to accept a paycheck from him anymore, he didn’t want to use Robbie as a food source either.

“I’d like that verra much,” Callum said. “Do I need anything?”

“Just clothes you can move in.”

“I can do that. I’ll be ready in just a moment.”

“Great. I’ll meet you outside.” He turned and left with a wave, saying, “Good to see you, Robbie.”

Robbie tipped his head and took another swig from the milk jug

“We have glasses, you ken,” Callum said sarcastically.

“Aye,” Robbie replied with an imitated Scottish brogue. “But we dinnae have a dishwasher, and this saves me many a wee dish.”

“You went Irish.”

“Damn,” Robbie said with a laugh. “So I’m off the menu tonight?”

“Aye.”

“And here I cleaned my neck and everything.”

“Robbie, I?—”

“Cal, stop. I’m just givin’ you shit.”

“I just… Are ye mad?”

“Why would I be mad? I’m your friend whether or not I’m also your food.”

Callum snorted a laugh. “I’d rather you just be my friend.”

Robbie smiled at him. “Well, that was a given, pal.”

“But I meant what I said earlier. If ye need money until ye find something?—”

“I don’t need your money, Cal. This wasn’t my only gig.”