Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
AGNES
Ihadn’t slept.
How could I, really? After that?
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it—the Beithir rising from the dark water, those ancient eyes fixed on mine, its words searing into my brain.
Daughter of lies.
I’d finally given up on sleep around four, made a pot of tea I didn’t drink, and curled up in a chair watching the sky lighten softly over Loch Mirren.
The water looked so ordinary in the pale light.
Just a loch. Just water and sky and the hills cupping it like the mug of tea I’d forgotten to drink.
But I knew better now.
I was tied to the loch in ways I didn’t yet understand. Liora’s words floated back to me.
“But seeing that thread at the loch, the one connecting you to the Stone ... I think they’re related. I think whatever that dark strand is, it’s tied to your bloodline. And it’s tied to whoever you love.”
And now, I could kick myself for not having worked harder to uncover more of the curse surrounding my family’s history. Why had I pushed that into the background? I was forever putting everyone else first and, apparently, this was now coming back to bite me in the arse.
Gran’s voice echoed in my memory. Blood remembers what the mind forgets, her fingers twisting the silver ring she always wore, the ring that I wore on my own finger. I touched it now, a nervous habit I’d developed since her death. The metal was cool against my skin, offering no answers.
By the time I’d showered, dressed, and convinced myself that I could face the day if I switched from tea to coffee, I was ready for the pre-work meeting of the Order of Caledonia being held at the castle.
It was one of the few times that everyone could get together, and I was beginning to feel like I needed to share what Liora had told me.
About my connection to the loch.
To the Beithir, apparently.
Guilt churned low in my gut, even though I, personally, had done nothing to wrong anyone. But it appeared an ancestor of mine had.
Maybe the sins of the fathers, or in this case, mothers, somewhere down the line.
I walked to the castle because I needed the movement, though I gave the loch a wide berth.
Instead of taking the main street, I looped around and up the back, away from the water, and approached the castle from a little gravel service lane that wound up the side of the hill.
Sure, it took me longer, but I needed the fresh air to clear my head and work out what I was going to say to my friends.
I shouldn’t be so nervous. We were all in this together, weren’t we? Still, I wasn’t technically a part of the Order, and now it seemed I might be a hindrance too.
The library was already half-full when I arrived.
Sophie stood near the fireplace, deep in conversation with Lachlan, their heads bent together in that way couples had when they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.
Lia was setting out tea and biscuits on the long table—because of course she was, the woman couldn’t help herself—while Munroe hovered nearby, sneaking shortbread when he thought she wasn’t looking.
“She sees you,” Shona called out cheerfully as Munroe’s hand froze mid-reach. “She always sees you.”
“I’m taste-testing,” Munroe said with dignity. “It’s part of my quality control protocols.”
“You’re a menace is what you are.” But Lia was smiling as she swatted his hand away, and I realized that I wanted that easy affection they had.
I slipped into a chair quietly, hoping to avoid attention, but Willow caught my eye immediately and made her way over.
“You look like hell,” she said, settling into the chair beside me. Even for an early morning meeting she looked fabulous, wearing wide-leg leather pants and a slouchy soft cashmere top that dripped off one shoulder.
“Good morning to you too.” I narrowed my eyes at her. I was starting to get annoyed at everyone telling me how shitty I looked.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m being observant. There are circles under your eyes that have their own circles.” She tilted her head, studying me with that unnerving focus she got sometimes. “Bad night?”
“Something like that.”
Willow was quiet for a moment, and I could feel her deciding whether to push.
“Ramsay snores,” she said instead. “Like a chainsaw with a head cold. I’ve considered smothering him with a pillow at least three times this week.”
A surprised laugh escaped me. “That seems extreme.”
“Does it? I think a jury of women would acquit me.” She patted my arm. “Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to me. To any of us. That’s what we’re here for.”
“I know.” My throat tightened unexpectedly. “Thank you.” What would my life be like had these amazing women not entered it? Especially given I was more book worm than socialite when I was younger and had tended to hang with the lads more than any girlfriends at school.
Sophie called the meeting to order before Willow could say anything else, which was probably for the best.
“Right,” Sophie said. “We’ve got a lot to cover, so let’s get started. First order of business is Zara, who has some information to share about what she’s been sensing from the loch.”
I sat up straighter, my attention sharpening.
Zara was seated on the other end of the long table, her guide dog Mitch pressed against her legs as always. She looked tired too, I noticed, as her face was pale and drawn.
“I feel like the signals have been getting stronger,” Zara said. “Ever since the attack. It’s like impressions? Whispers? I don’t know. But I really think there’s something trying to communicate.”
“The Kelpies?” Orla asked, leaning forward with a frown.
“Maybe? I don’t … I don’t know. It’s kind of frustrating, actually.” Zara waved her hands in the air, looking into the distance, her eyes seeing what we couldn’t. “I’ve been trying to make sense of it, but it comes in fragments. Images and feelings more than words.”
“What kind of fragments?” Sophie tilted her head. “Like … can you describe it?”
Zara was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowed.
“There’s something about blood,” she said finally. “A lineage. And like, just random phrases, I guess.”
“What phrases?” Hilda asked, pen poised over her notebook.
Zara took a breath. “Something about lies. And a promise. A daughter, maybe?”
The words sliced through me.
I must have made some sound, some movement, because Liora’s head snapped toward me from across the room, her eyes wide. I shook my head—not now—and forced myself to sit still, to keep my expression neutral.
But my heart was hammering, and it felt like Gran’s ring had gone hot on my finger. I twisted it, feeling like warmth was pouring through my veins.
Daughter of lies.
“Agnes?”
I blinked. Sophie was looking at me, her brow furrowed.
“You don’t look good. Are you all right?”
“You’re not the first to mention that.” I slanted a look at Willow who just blew me a kiss. “Just tired. Didn’t sleep well.”
Sophie didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, turning back to Zara. “Is there anything else? Any sense of what this communication actually means?”
“There’s something about a betrayal,” Zara said slowly. “A long time ago. And something that needs to be mended or restored. I can’t quite grasp it.”
“Could it be connected to the Beithir?” Kaia asked.
“Maybe. The impressions got stronger after it appeared.” Zara rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry. I wish I had more.”
“You’re doing brilliantly,” Liora assured her. “This is more than we had before.”
The meeting continued, moving on to security patrols and protection wards, but I barely heard any of it. My mind kept circling back to my run-in with the Beithir last night. Something was connecting all of it—something in my family’s history that I didn’t understand.
“Agnes.”
I startled. The meeting had apparently ended while I was lost in thought, and Liora was standing beside my chair.
“Walk with me?” she asked, and I nodded. Jumping up, I waved goodbye as everyone scattered to their various jobs.
That was probably the weirdest thing in all of this.
Life still went on.
We all had businesses to run, families and pets to take care of, and those mundane day-to-day activities that kept life bumping along.
And somehow, we still needed to be ready to fight, or decode ancient curses and mysteries, at the drop of a hat.
It was a wild dichotomy, when I thought about it.
That swing between the mundane and the surreal was enough to give anyone whiplash.
I nodded and followed her out of the library, through the hallway, until we were standing outside in the garden. Sir Buster and Lady Lola tumbled out the door after us, barking at each other as they raced around the garden. “You think this is about you,” Liora said. It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t know for certain, but kind of, aye.” I crossed my arms against the bracing wind. “It felt like Zara was talking directly to me.”
“It would track.” Liora’s expression was troubled. “From what I saw and what we talked about.”
“The Beithir appeared to me last night.” I needed to share my encounter with someone. Already, I felt guilty for not having brought it up at the meeting.
Liora’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“After dinner with Graham. I couldn’t sleep, went for a walk, and ended up at the loch.” I laughed bitterly. “Stupid, I know.”
“Excuse me?” Liora sucked in a breath. “You did what on your own?”
“I know, I know.” I held up my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t quite cover doing something so bloody stupid.” Liora shook her head. “But go on … what happened?”
“It rose out of the water and just looked at me. Like, I don’t know, maybe what Zara was saying—”
“What I was saying about what?”
I turned to see Mitch leading Zara from the castle and winced.
“I, um—”
“Rock star over here thought she’d have a wee chat with a Beithir on her own without any of us around.” Liora summed that up quickly.
“Agnes!” Zara gasped so loudly that Mitch twisted to look up at her and whined softly.