[Nine Fragments bi Sandy Fleemin] (In Scots)

VI

 dinna see that,” qo I. “In a wee toun like this wad fowk no miss, or for that maiter finnd, the fowk ye souks tae deid?”

“The University leuks efter its ain,” she sayed, “the Bute sees tae the transfusions. I didna say I soukit them tae stark deid: even the ínnocent’ll …”

“The medical faculty …” I pat in afore she’d feenished, but syne I haed tae stop an think, no least wi hou the Bute’s richt nixt door tae here; syne I mindit I wisna meant tae be creditin a wird she wis sayin, “… the medics kens aboot the vampires?”

“Thay ken it, but thay dinna believe it,” qo Ísabel, “it’s richt in front o thair faces, but thay dinna see’d. The mind o a cýnic’s a orra kin o thing.”

I turned my heid an keekit at her oot the wick o my ee. “Sae am I awa tae be spendin the nicht in the Bute?” No that I creditit sicna thing: I wis juist gaun wi what she wis sayin.

“Ye’r my writer,” qo she, “ye’r the last sowel in the warld that’s bluid I wad drink,” a chitter gaed up my rigbane tae think that aa she wis tellin me wis haudin thegither even whaur I’d thocht it wis at its maist ridíclous, “an I’ll thank ye no tae fíctionalíze the wey Polidori did, or try tae mak oot ye forgethert wi some stane-auld evil this nicht: set my story doun strecht.”

“But what wad ye be tellin me the nou for?” spiers I, “It’s no like ye’r vera auld or …”

I wis cut short the wey she leuch at this. We haed a bit o a airgyment here, tho, anent hou auld coud she be gin the librar wis still bein built afore she wis a vampire, juist seeven year back. She juist didna want tae admit tae no bein as auld as the hills. But, “Ay, I’m young, juist a young vampire,” she sayed in the end, “undaith is fou o opportunities for the likes o me. An yit my wark here’s aboot duin, an I’m wantin it pitten doun on paper sae’s it’s no lost ance I’m awa, sae’s new generâtions o vampires can lift thair destiny. But tae git back tae Suphy, she wis gaun back an forrit in thon chaumer in Hamilton Haa, wringin her luifs at the vera thocht o Cranmore.”

“Cranmore here?” she haed sayed, an syne she’d stoppit an stuid like a stoukie in the middle o the chaumer. “Ay, he’s wauken, I finnd him nou. An he finnds me! He feels my fear!”

Syne she haed kneeled afore Ísabel an taen her hauns in her ain, “Ísabel, for fear onything happens tae me this nicht, mind this ae thing mair, my greatest discovery: vampirism is the only disease we ken o that can traivel fae species tae species! Never forget! Nou dicht ye the trinkums fae the door, sae’s we can baith win awa afore he comes.”

Ísabel haed duin what she wis here for, an she’d nae mair raeson no tae lat Suphy lowse. She’d pat her haun up, an still bein maistly human, haed soopit awa the garlic an relígious decorements fae abuin the door. An the meenit she did that, the door blew in, wi hou Cranmore haed aready landit oot in the througang an wis juist waitin on the door bein dichtit for his entry. Ísabel wis dung on the fluir, Cranmore cam inben an steekit the door ahint him, syne stappit richt ower the tap o her, the tails o his coat like twa black wíngs owerheid, deepinin the mirk o the chaumer. He keekit aboot, at Suphy couryin in ae corner, an syne at Ísabel tryin tae heyst hersel. The meenit he spied the marks on her neck his een turnt back on Suphy.

“I ken this lassie,” qo he, “ye’v drunk the bluid o a scientist.” He crossed the chaumer wi ae lowp an pùlled Suphy up bi the hair, syne landit her sic a clamihewit ower the heid wi the back o his haun that less skaith wad been duin wi a hammer. But Suphy, cornered an stappit fou wi fresh bluid, played spang on him an thay focht, the time Ísabel hunkert inby the door haudin her luifs tae her lugs for tae no can hear the neives ca’in an feet kickin, the banes crumpin an sinnens brustin, an her kennin that gin thay cam ony nearer a single dunt fae aither the twa o them coud feenish her near-human corp for ance an aa. She teuk her chance for tae git throu the door, but it wis lockit: Cranmore haed opent it an shut it, an somewey it wis still lockit. Ísabel gethert up garlic an set it oot in a airc in her corner, for tae keep the ither twa awa fae hersel an the door. An aa the while the vampires focht: it wis like a collieshangie atween twa wild baests. But whan the first signs o licht cam keekin fae ahint the curtains the twa o them settlt, an startit on at Ísabel tae lat them oot afore sun up. Ísabel juist waitit on keek o day, tho she kent fine the war nae wey she wis gaun tae can cross the chaumer an pùll back the curtains. But whan the dawin cam glimmerin throu she spied the keys lyin juist ootside her safe circle an instant grippit them. At that meenit she thocht she wis saved, she’d never hae …