According to Billy, the Three Barrel and One Ale House is the most popular hangout in town.

"It is also the only hangout," he chuckles. "It's been around since the founding of the town. It got its weird name because the brewery, which is now one of the largest contributors to the island's economy, was created by the proprietor of the ale house. He distilled his own alcohol and brewed his own beer and ale," Billy tells me when we stop to admire the intricately carved, weathered signboard spanning the entrance. "Each month, he would send three barrels of his finest brews across the water to be sold, and one more barrel as a bribe to the ferryman for... services rendered."

"Well, it is rather aptly named then," I chuckle. "What services did the ferryman render?"

"I am not entirely sure, but the popular theories all include smuggling of some kind."

The pub is buzzing with life and laughter. One section has tables where families are gathered, enjoying their lunch, and another section is a noisy bar with billiard tables and darts. I quickly realise that it is only the exterior of the town that got stuck in the 17th century. The inhabitants are all quite modern, using cell phones and watching silent Television while the current popular music blares from the sound system. Billy finds us a table near the windows and hands me a drinks list carved on a wooden menu.

"Today's food choices are on the chalkboard," he informs me. "It is usually really good, but sometimes Maeve can get a wee bit adventurous, and then ye just keep yer head down and eat it. She has something of a temper," he adds in a playful whisper.

I look at the chalkboard covering a section of the wall near the entrance, and though the writing is quite large, I simply cannot focus on it. My eyes have been prickly and irritated all morning, and now it is just downright annoying. Frustrated, I remove my glasses to squint at the board instead.

I am pleased that I can make out what is written on it, and I'm also relieved to see only normal-sounding dishes on there. Fish and chips, lamb stew, slow-cooked corned beef, brown-sugar glazed baby carrots and colcannon potatoes. Chunky apple cake with cream and chocolate Guinness cake are available for dessert.

My mouth is watering!

"I love corned beef, but which of those do you recommend?" I ask Billy, and he shrugs.

"Can't really go wrong with any of those," he assures me. "Depends on how hungry ye are, I suppose. Maeve does an awesome corned beef, but me favourite is the stew and that cabbage-potato mash. If ye plan on having dessert, and ye want to, we could get one of each dessert and share them. Best of both worlds."

"Oh! Count me in for that!"

"None of the women on the island good enough for ye, Billy?" A pretty teenage girl with hair as beautiful and bright as the sun sauntered up to our table, and judging by the apron hanging over her jeans and the fact that she placed a pitcher of water on the table, I believe her to be our server. "Ye had to go find yerself a wee goddess from across the water, did ye?" She winks at him and gives me a wide, saucy grin, looking me over rather rudely with wide eyes as blue as Billy's.

"Well, Mary, since ye are me niece and way too young for me, and I couldn't find anybody on the island who could match ye, I had to widen me search," he grins, and just when I'm about to use the water to douse the fires in my cheeks, he chuckles, introducing me to his brother's daughter as Slaughtaverty Manor's latest employee.

"A beauty like her in that castle will not end well, I tell ya! What were they thinking?!"

I have no idea what to make of that statement, and possibly to save me from any further disconcerting words of wisdom, Billy hurries to help me place my order, freeing Mary to leave us alone.

"What did she mean?"

"Ye're a woman; they're men..." Billy shrugs, giving an awkward laugh. "Mary thinks like a hormonal teenager... and she looooooves teasing people."

While we wait for our food, he tells me that the island still belongs to the Slatherties, but the people living on it have the usufruct of the land they occupy. Whenever someone leaves the island permanently, the Slatherties pay them for any structures they built on the land and compensate them for whatever produce they leave behind.

Late in the 1700s, decades after the tragedies with the murdered boys and lost babies and girls, the community finally started to prosper and grow, and the ruling family distributed land to those willing to farm it for the good of the island, providing food to the population and barley and hops to the constantly growing brewery. That brewery has since moved to the outskirts of the town and employs a large number of the villagers.

The land distribution processes are still in place. There are also vast sections of man-made forests created and maintained on the other side of the island for the sole purpose of providing wood for the sawmill.

There have always been opportunities on the island for those willing to put in the work, and since the land distribution came into play, those opportunities have grown exponentially. Still, many laws and rules are working to ensure that the Slatherties never lose possession and control of their island.

Peace Haven is a self-sustaining community with hydro-generated electricity, a sewerage treatment plant and plenty of water from multiple large lakes, always full due to the generous rainfall. I must say, I am rather impressed.

"Alaric is always finding new markets for the island's distinct ales, beers and wood; under his management, the economy is booming."

Well, he would glare it into submission with his icy gaze if it dared not to boom... I'm sure of it.

All the beers and ciders on the menu are locally manufactured, and though there are wine, juice and sodas available as well, I decided to give the Slaughtaverty Pale Ale a chance. When Maeve's husband - Fergus Macleod, a burly bearded man with a perpetually worried expression on his face but a bright smile when he uses it - arrives and places our drinks on the table, having a quick chat with Billy and welcoming me to 'this piss pot in the middle of nowhere', I am not disappointed with my choice when I take the first sip of my ale.

Fergus Macleod

Halfway through the biggest mug of pure euphoria I've ever had, I find myself relaxing more and more, enjoying Billy's stories and his easygoing ways.

"What do you do when you're not picking people up at the ferry and driving them around?" I ask him, and then I realise that since people don't seem to like driving here, that might actually be his full-time employment. "Do you run a taxi service?"

"Naw," Billy shrugs. "Well... sometimes. I do many things for the Slatherties, but I'm mainly a Systems Engineer involved in most projects here. The brewery takes up most of me time, especially when we shut the system down for cleaning and maintenance."

"Oh!" I exclaim, surprised to hear that. "For some reason, I thought you were more the outdoorsy type. I imagined something like a nature conservationist or someone who takes people on extreme survival outings... or a vampire hunter. I didn't peg you for an engineer at all."

"Oh, thank goodness!" he laughs, peering playfully at me over the rim of the glass he raised to his lips. "I am the outdoorsy type, and after hearing your suggestions, I'm considering a career change now," he assures me, setting his mug down on the coaster provided for it. Our table is quaintly shaped like an enormous barrel, but the scarred top is carefully preserved and polished to a shine. I do believe that these tables, once upon a time, really were barrels that had round tabletops mounted on one end. I love the uniqueness of it.

Our food arrives shortly after the drink delivery, carried by Mary and a sweet-looking blond boy she might have bullied into the task because, though he also wears an apron, he seems to be highly uncomfortable serving us, blushing brightly each time I look at him. He cannot empty his tray fast enough.

Mary Doyle and Cillian Stewart

"Told ye she's a looker, Cillian!" Mary chuckles, and when Cillian whimpers and hurries away, she runs after him, shouting, "So which of the Slatherty brothers do ye think will drag her to his bed first? Or do ye think it will be Billy?"

Cillian screams and switches to a sprint with the girl running after him, still shouting. "Do ye? Do ye?! Kill... li... aaaan!"

"What?!" I gasp, appalled not only because those words came from the mouth of a high schooler but also because I do not want to get dragged to anybody's bed... and one of her candidates is sitting right here next to me, almost choking on his beer with laughter.

"Oh, don't mind Mary," Billy assures me, giving my arm a light pat before he picks up his utensils. "She's just teasing Cillian. The lad is very shy, especially around beautiful women like yerself."

I'm still hovering precariously between feeling flattered and scandalised when the fragrance of the food overwhelms all my senses, and I have to suppress a deep moan of anticipation. I do so by picking up my knife and fork and stuffing my mouth with food. My corned beef is as good as Billy had promised it would be, and the carrots and cabbage-potatoes are tremendous.

However, the aroma assaulting my senses from the colourful stew in front of Billy is stirring longings inside me that put Mary's words to shame when it comes to being scandalous.

"That smells amazing," I tell him, and he unceremoniously pushes his deep plate towards me.

"Try it," he suggests, and I would refuse, but that would be insane, so I dip my fork in it and scoop up some of the brothy mixture.

"Oh, my word! I've never tasted anything like it!" I say when I am finally able to speak again, my head floating on a cloud of sheer savoury bliss.

"Have some more," Billy offers, and before I can protest, he uses his dessert spoon to ladle a couple of scoops onto my plate. If I didn't know it before, I know it now: Billy is a kind soul. When I offer, he happily accepts a piece of corned beef and a couple of carrots in exchange.

Hey," he suddenly says between forkfuls of his stew and cabbage-potato mash. "I was really glad that ye called me yesterday; I was starting to get extremely worried and was planning on going over there today and demand to see ye."

I smile at him, amused but also touched by his concern, and then I realise that it is rather strange for him to be that worried. He'd delivered me at the front door; why would he be so concerned?

"Did you think I lost the door in the mist and fell off a cliff?"

"What?" Billy frowns, and then his expression clears up, and he chuckles softly. "Naw, when we were driving up to the house, I saw Leopold in a window upstairs and knew he was on his way down to open the door for ye."

"Oh..." Billy doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would assume the worst if a woman he barely knows doesn't respond to his messages. Then again, he might not be used to women not jumping when he calls. He is handsome, seems confident and relaxed, and just about everybody who walked past us in the street and even here, seated at the table, seemed to know him well and like him. I think he has introduced me to half the population of Peace Haven by now.

Billy is a sociable fellow and definitely not in dire need of more female company. There are many young women in here giving me slightly sour looks while dimpling happily when he speaks to them.

"I just thought... I don't know what I thought," Billy's grin is turning sheepish, and he adorably rubs the back of his head, squinting at me. "Maybe I just really wanted to see ye again."

Oh, my! Is he flirting with me?!

I wonder if Alaric's ban on romantic dalliances extends to outside the mansion. Maybe it's the ale, but I don't care. I simply smile at Billy, giving him what I hope is a flirty look and not a constipated one. I've never flirted before in my life!

"To be honest, I didn't answer your calls because I fell asleep on Thursday night and woke up yesterday afternoon."

The smile falls from Billy's face, his blue eyes once again losing their sparkle and cheerfulness. "Ye love sleeping a lot?" he asks, sounding hopeful.

"No," I shrug. "I'm generally an early riser and don't care much for sleep. I had some bad dreams on Thursday night, and the journey was quite tiring. Ransford told me that the altitude and air quality played a huge role in my comatose state."

"Aye," Billy agrees, picking up his glass to take a few deep sips of his beer. "That's true."

"I wish it affected the mosquitoes too," I scoff. "Got bitten by a big fat one, and it's been itching like crazy."

"Where?" Billy asks, frowning, and I am genuinely touched by how seriously he is taking my complaint about a mere mosquito bite.

"Here," I say, tapping the crook of my right arm and to my surprise, he takes my hand and pushes up the sleeve of my cardigan to frown at the irritated rash I've developed in a tiny area around a small bump as if it appeared there just to spoil his day.

"It's nothing," I say with a breathy laugh and slide my arm from his warm hands. Billy's touch caused a rash of its own. It's not a visible one, but my entire body is tingling now. I should lay off the ale!

Never before have I experienced a mosquito bite to spoil the mood this much, and as is my habit when I get nervous, I start to babble, telling Billy all about the drawing room with the novels and the book I'd been reading, relieved when he eventually joins in the conversation, telling me about the local library and other wonderful places all happily co-existing in Slaughtaverty.

When we've finished our meal, the dessert arrives, carried by Cillian, who all but throws it on the table from a distance before running away, effectively escaping from Mary, who is in hot pursuit with a tray carrying our coffee.

"Mary, give the lad a break," Billy chuckles, shaking his head, but Mary just laughs, tells me to slap her uncle if he gets fresh with me... unless I want him to... and runs after the boy who fled right out the door this time.

"How... uhm... are ye getting along with Alaric and the others in that house?" he asks when we've both surfaced from the extacy-induced coma the first bites of the shared desserts had placed us in.

House?! Now, that is an understatement!

"They've all been rather kind," I assure him. "In their way... Alaric is a bit... cold, I suppose, but his brothers are quite friendly. I was so surprised to hear that Liam is a Neuroscientist. I wouldn't have expected someone like that to live on an island."

"Neuroscientist?" Billy frowns, and then he shrugs, slicing another bite of cake with his cake fork. "Aye, I suppose that's one way to describe him."

"He's not one?"

"Oh, he might be. The man has been studying since he was born, I think. He has several medical specialities behind him; I shouldn't be surprised if neuroscience is one of them. Besides, he would be interested in the field because of Saoirse's condition."

"Oh, you know Saoirse!" I did notice that Billy knows quite a bit about the Slatherties, but I did not know that he was that intimately involved with them.

"Aye, I do jobs for them from time to time. Mostly, I just drive people places and take care of things outside the mansion, but I've had to go inside on occasion. Didn't like it much; too dark and moody for me taste."

Oh! So it's not just me, then!

"Oh! I thought Leopold drives them in the limo..."

Billy laughs, resting his fork in the empty bowl. "That old monstrosity?" I think he means the car, but he could be referring to Leopold. "It belonged to their brother, Ambrose. He had a flare for the dramatic. Alaric nearly busted a vein when he brought it here. He doesn't like drawing attention."

"Oh, my goodness, just how many brothers are there?!"

"Ambrose... passed away," Billy says, his eyes turning a darker blue as if they are looking at something they need protection from.

"Oh, no! What happened to him?" I didn't expect this sad news.

"I'm not entirely sure."

"Was he a womanizer too?"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," I wave a hand dismissively, regretting my words. "It's just that Alaric expected me to be a man. He is quite disappointed that I'm not... he mentioned romantic dalliances and womanisers as his excuse, but I'm not entirely sure I believe him."

"He didn't know ye were a woman?" I can see that Billy is as baffled as I am about that surprising piece of information.

"No, apparently not. His assistant hid it from him for some reason."

"Really?" Billy exclaims, looking startled. "That doesn't sound like something Diarmuid would do. He can sometimes be scatterbrained, but he is quite thorough and honest. We've been mates forever, and I assure ye, Aubrey, the lad doesn't have a scheming bone in his body."

I have no idea what to make of that! That puts me firmly back at square one.

"What other stories can you tell me about the island?" I decide to change the subject because the unease generated by his words is making my stomach churn unpleasantly. "Preferrable, not gut-wrenchingly sad ones like the one you told me about the missing children."

"Sorry about that," Billy says with a grimace, and he really does look sorry.

"It is quite alright. I want to know the island and am prepared to take the sweet with the sour."

"Well, when we were kids, a bunch of us often used to sneak into the orchard within the mansion's walls to steal apples," he tells me, his eyes twinkling at the memory. "We didn't really want apples; we just wanted to see if we'd get caught. Leopold used to appear as if summoned and chase us off in that stiff I'm-already-dead-so-you-can't-touch-me way of his. So freaky. Really thrilling. We were so noisy! I think we drove Alaric nuts," he laughs. "But he never said or did anything about it. He didn't even give us as much as a cold glare."

"Alaric?" I prompt, confused by his story. "Don't you mean his father?"

"Who?"

"Alaric's father," I explain. "Aren't you and Alaric about the same age?"

"Oh! Aye! Right! His father passed away ages ago... and Alaric was born old."

"He is rather difficult..." I remember grey eyes like shattered glass gazing into mine, causing excitement to gush in my veins like soda bubbles. I'm annoyed to see that my fingers are trembling when I raise my cup to my lips to take an encouraging sip of my coffee.

"He can be a wee bit intense, but he is a decent enough fellow." At first, I was surprised to hear Billy speak in his defence, but then I realised that, in many ways, Alaric is his employer, and he has a lot of respect for the man's good work for the islanders. He knows my new employer much better than I do.

Well, children stealing apples was undoubtedly a much happier story, but I would really like to know more about the period when my family lived here.

"Where should I go if I want to know more about a family that lived on the island in the 1700s?"

"We have a pretty extensive archive in the library that should have that kind of information," Billy suggests, looking surprised to hear my request. "It's not open today, but I could pick ye up during the week if you'd like to go. Who is it ye want to find out about?"

"My family, the Dankworths. I heard they-."

"And I tell ye, this is not the one!" An elderly woman storms from a door marked Employees Only, and she is huffing like a puffed-up rooster while a shorter, skinnier man runs after her, holding what appears to be a knitted wrap as fine as lace. "The one she's searching for has a pattern of tiny hearts and some blue ribbon laced through it."

On the ferry on Thursday and sitting here during lunch, being introduced to many strangers, I've discovered that if I listen carefully enough and use some imagination, I can make out what the locals are saying.

There is enough understandable English mixed into their language to help me along, and many of the words I thought were Gaelic or other languages are actually just English words pronounced in a very different way. I am not feeling as lost as I thought I would, especially now that I'm getting used to their accent.

"To be sure, to be sure, but she might be mistaken," the man defends his stance in a melancholic, long-suffering tone, trying to hand the woman the blanket. "I tell ya, I found this one where they were sitting-."

"And I tell ye, it is not the one! I'm not going to take it over there and upset the lass even more than she already is."

"To be sure, to be sure, but she might be mistaken..."

The couple seems stuck in a loop, and Billy catches my frown and startled, slightly amused expression, watching them depart to the bar section of the pub.

"What was that all about?" I chuckle.

"Do ye really want to know?" he asks me, grimacing. "I'm afraid it is another sad story." I'm curious enough, so I nod, and he downs the last of his coffee. "There's a young couple running a vegetable patch on the outskirts of town. Their two-week-old baby didn't wake up on Friday morning when the mother, Roisin, wanted to feed him."

"Oh, no! That is just terrible! What happened?" I half expect him to say something about a horrible disease brought on by mosquitoes after his reaction earlier, but he shrugs, shaking his head.

"No idea. The coroner declared it a crib death."

My heart flooding with sadness, I now rather wish I didn't ask.

"Roisin is looking for the special blanket her grandmother knitted for the baby. She swears that the child had been wrapped in it when she placed him in his bed Thursday evening, and she wrapped him in it again when she fed him later that night. He wasn't wrapped in it in the morning."

"He had no blanket? Did he perhaps die due to the cold?" Does it already get cold enough to cause an infant's death? I doubt it.

"Naw, he had a blanket, but it was one of his others, not the one she claims he was wrapped in when she lay him down. Everybody is on the lookout for it. The poor woman is devastated and obviously mistaken. If the blanket could be found somewhere she left it, she might find a drop of comfort in it... maybe..."

I finish my coffee in silence, still hearing the odd pair in the distance going around and around about the blanket the old man found, and I don't find it as amusing anymore.

"Would ye like anything else?" Billy asks, and when I assure him that I've eaten enough to last me a week, he leaves the table to pay. I wanted to pay for my share, but he insisted that I was his guest today and that I could pay next time if I really wanted to.

I like those words, 'next time'...

My mind is still running over the sad story of the dead baby, causing my feet to drag when we leave the pub to take a stroll through the town square. Something doesn't feel right, an unformed thought knocking around in my brain, gradually unravelling the feelings of well-being I'd been experiencing having that lovely lunch with Billy.

Then it hits me, and I come to a startled stop, my heart beating a mile a minute, and suddenly, my stomach is threatening to expel all the beautiful food I just ate. I swallow convulsively, a terrible sadness crashing over me, dread tightly on its heels, grabbing me in a chokehold.

"Aubrey? Are ye alright?"

I want to answer Billy, but I can't; my voice is frozen, and my heart has stopped. The only thing clear in my mind is a delicate knitted blanket, with tiny hearts and blue ribbon, smeared with blood, wrapped around a quiet baby, clutched to the chest of a girl with tangled white hair and soulless black eyes.

"I just wanted to hold him, but I am so hungry."

"I'm afraid Roisin is not going to get that blanket back."

~~~

Note:- Thank you, @katrinablackwood, for making me realise that Vampire Hunter would've been the perfect career choice for Billy. I had Aubrey Suggest that to him.😜🤣