“Yes, I woke early and wanted to collect it so we could be on our way as soon as possible,”I said,still trying to gauge his tone. I could not tell if his eyes were still tightened by sleep, or if he was glaring at me with suspicion.
“Let us eat, then. I will gather what’s in the chapel, and we shall depart. If we ride now, we might be able to make it to Loch Ness before dark,”he said in a reassuring tone, a small smile gracing his face as he turned and walked back toward the chapel.
I let out the long breath I had been holding. I was quite sure he had not seen the water turn into ice mid-air. Relief washed over me as I grabbed my bag and followed him.
After eating a quick meal of bread and nuts, we mounted the horses and left St. Mary’s. The morning light graced the tops of the trees, casting long shadows across the path as we made our way back up the ridge. It was warmer in the sun’s presence while we rode, the frost burning away where its beams touched. With little snow in the area, we were able to ride faster than we had on the way to Letterfearn.
Despite the sun, a storm was beginning to brew in my mind as I thought of how the water had turned to ice. Did I possess powers like Gran’s? Was I a witch? The very notion seemed absurd. I had never exhibited any unusual abilities before. Perhaps it was simply a freak burst of cold, but deep down, I had felt the fear coursing through me like an icy fire raging from my core to the tips of my fingers. In that moment of dread, the water had frozen solid, allowing me to catch the ice droplets before they fell to the ground. The whole inexplicable moment had been eerie, with the ice droplets descending gently as if time had slowed down. I was at a loss for what to make of it, and the uncertainty chilled me to the bone.
I noticed the sky filling with a thick layer of clouds, and within moments, a storm appeared to be brewing. Was the weather mimicking my moods, I wondered. Was I somehow influencing the weather as well? The notion seemed preposterous, yet my mind entertained the wild possibility.
“Have you ever been to a play?”James asked, cutting into the silence ofthe morning’s ride, which I was grateful for as my thoughts had taken a dark turn.
“Yes, once, but it was more of a stage interlude. Even though my father was a Protestant, he never agreed that the theater was for sinners. He was an educated man and appreciated what the playwrights had to offer, even the silly ones. Had she known he had taken me, my mother would have had his head.”
“Where did you see it?”he asked, giving me a mischievous smile, already knowing where these kinds of plays took place.
“The Black Bull Tavern.”
“Aye, I saw The Bouncing Knightthere last year. My father would be none too pleased to find that his son had attended such foolery,”he laughed.
“Really? That’s the same one that Father and I attended!”
“Maybe we sat next to each other and didn’t even know it,”he joked, but something inside me reveled at the idea of such a chance meeting, like the kind written about in books.
“It was quite absurd, wasn’t it?”he asked with a chuckle.
“Yes, it was. I wish I had been able to see Shakespeare’s real Henry IV on the actual stage. It must have been grand,”I mused as the sun broke free of the clouds for a long moment, lightening up the world around us.
He nodded in agreement as we rode down the sloping hill into the glen below. The wind blew from the west carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke. A small cottage sat snugly at the base of a large mountain, reminding me of Fernbeg, Gran’s cottage in Oban. I instinctively touched my bag, feeling for the bottle that held the water from the well. We needed to gather the rowanberries and make our way back to the castle by morning, or it would be too late, and the spell would not work. A sickness washed over me as I thought about Gran, and I prayed that she was still fighting and had not succumbed to death’s icy touch.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Walk of Shame
Between the whisky and the reading, Nora was struggling to keep her eyes open. Before she could even turn the page to find out what happened next, her eyes closed, and she drifted off to sleep and into the dream realm.
Shrouded in darkness, the room was illuminated only by a faint moonbeam trickling in through a distant window. Shadows danced across the walls, casting everything in a monochromatic haze. Ragged breathing echoed through the cold air from the far corner, where the outline of a bed lurked in the shadows. The chill in the house was far too cold for anyone to live in comfortably. Nora walked over to the wall and ran her hand along its surface until her fingers found a light switch covered in a thin layer of frost. She flipped it on, but no light shone in the darkness.
She rubbed her arms in an attempt to dispel the chill that wasslowly working its way into her bones. Making her way to the bed nestled in the back corner of the room, she followed the sounds of ragged breathing cutting through the frozen silence of the house. The bed, like everything else, was cloaked in a delicate layer of frost. Even the blankets were touched by an otherworldly cold, adorned with tiny crystals. The covers slowly rose and fell with each labored breath. She walked to the head of the bed and could make out a tuft of snow-white hair emerging from beneath the blankets, but the features of the person remained hidden in shadow.
The house was too cold, and whoever was in that bed was old and unwell. Turning, Nora found herself standing in front of the fireplace, arranging a few small pieces of kindling to start a fire. Running her hand along the mantle, she found a box of matches, but whenever she struck one, it shattered like ice in her hands. She tried again and again, but each match met the same fate. After the last match crumbled in her hands, she walked toward the window where a chair sat draped with a blanket. Pulling the blanket from the chair, she noticed movement outside the window.
Peering into the murky darkness, Nora saw the full moon illuminating the icy waters of the loch in a soft light. The waters began to churn and move as a creature resembling a large serpent with scales the color of storm clouds emerged from its center. Broad-headed with green eyes reflecting the moonlight, the creature appeared ancient and majestic. Its long neck extended well above the surface of the water, while its back bobbed up and down. It frolicked, diving in and out with a playful yet graceful motion. The mesmerizing scene held Nora’s attention until the voice of a woman behind her snapped her out of the enchantment.
“In the shadowed depths where mysteries still dwell, may the whispers of Bridanach guide you well. For with her wisdom, there lies a gift, to save the souls who are adrift.”
When Nora turned around, no one was there, yet the voice had sounded mere feet away from her. She turned back toward the loch, but its waters were still. Not even a ripple washed across its surface. Turning around, Nora was in the bedroom again, but this time the bed was empty and lay neatly made. She turned toward the windows overlooking the loch to find she was now in an old stone ruin, the freezing cold air seeping its way into the cracks and openings. Nothing but a pile of smoldering ash lay where a fire once burned within the dilapidated old stone walls. Ducking under pine boughs, Nora walked into the snowy landscape that sat atop a hill overlooking a long loch. The sun was rising, and a feeling of fear raced through her that she couldn’t explain. Looking around frantically, she found herself alone and began to panic. She closed her eyes, hoping to dispel the fear.
Nora jolted awake in bed, the little red book resting on her chest and the chilly embrace of the bedroom’s bitter cold air surrounding her. The weird dream lingered in her thoughts as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. Compared to most dreams she had, this one had been remarkably visceral and real, more like a memory than a dream. She felt like she hadn’t slept at all.
The electricity must have still been out because without the furnace, the fireplace downstairs was not enough to heat the upper level of the house. She huddled under the blankets, reluctant to go downstairs and face Alistair, especially after the awkward end to the previous night’s events. Still, she needed to check on him to make sure his foot was okay. She let out a groan and watched her breath form wispy clouds in the frigid air.
Nora regretted having drunk so much whisky, as her head pounded in protest, a harsh reminder of her poor decision. She had no idea how to navigate the aftermath of her failed encounter with Alistair last night. She had to admit she was a bit disappointed.She liked him and had wanted to spend the night wrapped in his arms. It wasn’t like it could lead to anything. They were from different countries, after all, and she would soon be heading back to Vermont.
Unlike a singular misguided episode in college, there was no sneaking out and avoiding the situation this time. The thought of facing Alistair was anything but appealing and prompted Nora to linger in bed a bit longer. Rolling over, she lay on her side, gazing around the room. Her eyes landed on the floorboard that had ended her steamy moment with Alistair, and she couldn’t help but scowl at it. That turned-up old board had dashed any possibility of waking up next to him. Then a flicker of clarity crept in—perhaps it had spared her from the huge mistake of sleeping with a man who was just drunk and had no particular interest in her otherwise.
As her mind wandered, the gentle rays of the rising sun bathed the room in a golden glow. In that soft morning light, Nora saw something beneath the lifted floorboard. A glint of white caught her eye, a hidden piece of paper, perhaps? Throwing off the blankets, Nora hastily grabbed her old UVM sweatshirt from the chair and pulled it over the clothes she had slept in as the brisk air sent shivers through her body. With a deep breath, she walked over to the board, anticipation building as she prepared to uncover the mystery hidden beneath.
