Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
AGNES
“And the winner of tonight’s trivia night is the Bonnie Bookwyrms!”
“This is an absolute travesty,” Lachlan announced from his table. “Agnes is a professional historian. Surely we’ve all agreed she can’t join trivia nights anymore? That’s borderline cheating.”
“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy,” Sophie said sweetly. “Maybe next time don’t waste your first-round pick on Ramsay.”
“Hey!” Ramsay looked genuinely offended. “I got the football questions right.”
“There was one football question. You got one point.”
“A crucial point.”
“That’s okay, baby!” Willow blew a kiss to Ramsay whose glower only deepened. “I only scored our team one point too. We still contributed. Don’t let ’em get you down.”
“This is why I don’t socialize,” Ramsay muttered into his pint glass, and I swallowed down a laugh.
If it had been any other night, and at any other time, I would say that life was almost normal.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that this was how it could be.
Trivia nights with friends. Fun days at the bookshop.
Steamy evenings curled up with Graham in one of our flats above the businesses we both loved to run.
Graham emerged from behind the bar with a fresh bottle of wine and a grin that made my stomach twist with longing. He’d been working tonight, pulling pints and making change while simultaneously heckling all of the teams with impressive impartiality.
“Congratulations to our reigning champions,” he said, topping up my glass. “At this rate, you’ll have to start giving the other teams a handicap.”
“We offered to answer with our eyes closed,” I said, smiling up at Graham. “Lachlan declined.”
“Because that’s not a real handicap! You’d still know the answers!” Lachlan protested, and Sophie snorted.
“That’s rather the point of trivia, isn’t it? Knowing things?”
Lachlan made a sound of profound frustration and buried his face in his pint. Sophie patted his arm with exaggerated sympathy.
The pub was packed tonight, every table full, as trivia night had become something of an institution since Graham had started it over two years ago—a way to bring the community together, he’d said, though I suspected he also just enjoyed watching Lachlan lose.
But now, with the game finished, people lined up to close their tabs and headed toward the door, offering their goodbyes on the way out.
It was the way of small towns that were early to rise and early to bed, but I also suspected more than one local was leery about being out late at night around the loch.
I couldn’t say that I much blamed them.
“Right,” Sophie said, once the pub had largely emptied out and Liora and Torin were clearing tables, “I think we’ve got some business to discuss.”
“Order business?” Willow asked, immediately alert. Not everyone in the Order was here tonight, as Lia was running Grasshopper, and Shona had some film event with Owen in Glasgow, but the rest of the Order, plus Hilda, Archie, Matthew, and Lottie, were here.
“I’d say so.” Sophie’s eyes flicked between me and Graham.
“What?” I asked, eyes widening.
“Sophie just wants to know when you’re going to admit that you two shagged,” Ramsay supplied and I choked on my sip of wine while Graham sighed and plopped his bar rag on the counter.
“Really, mate?” Graham asked, his tone sharp.
“I think what Ramsay is trying to not remotely delicately say—baby, we’ve talked about this—is that it’s obvious to everyone that there’s been a new development in your relationship,” Willow supplied helpfully, leaning forward with a hopeful look on her face.
“Are we correct to assume that you’ve, um, worked out your differences? ”
“I’d say they have years of pent-up differences of working out to do,” Finn muttered, and Orla clapped her hand over his mouth.
“Ignore him,” Orla said, glaring at her love. “We’re just happy to see you both happy.”
“If that’s what you want, of course,” Liora said, raising her voice.
“Of course they want it. Can’t you see the little hearts circling their heads?
” Lachlan said. I met his eyes, but he just smiled at me.
Clearly, he was delighted at this development, but he didn’t know what I knew and while, on the surface, this development seemed great fun for everyone, it held a much more sinister undertone.
“Agnes. What’s wrong?” Sophie came forward, her eyes studying my face. “Do you want us to stop making fun?” Sophie whirled on the group, hands on her hips. “Knock it off, everyone. You’re upsetting her.”
“No,” I said, finding my voice. Graham caught my eye, a question on his face, and I knew that I needed to say something. He was going to let me lead, and I so appreciated him defaulting to what I wanted.
We’d lived the last couple of days in an absolute bubble of joy and rediscovering each other.
I hadn’t wanted to think about the curse, only how much I loved Graham’s mouth on mine again, his arms around me, his voice murmuring in my ear in the morning.
But I knew that hiding away would only do us more damage than good.
Lachlan was right. I was a historian, and I knew, better than most, that history would always repeat itself.
I held up my finger for silence for a moment, looked around to make sure the room was empty but for the members of the Order and their loved ones, and then took a long gulp of my wine for courage.
“That serious?” Orla whistled.
The mood shifted. I watched it happen—the easy laughter fading. They became more focused, more intent. These women had faced Kelpies and all manner of magickal threats and they knew when something mattered.
I looked around the room at the faces watching me. My friends, well, family, really. They deserved the truth.
“So,” I began. “Some of you know bits and pieces of this already, but I’ll start from the beginning so everyone has the full picture or at least what I know of it. Unfortunately, even as a historian, I’m still piecing things together.”
I told them about the Bookkeeper role first. How my family had been part of the Order for generations and how the position had been vacant since Isobel’s betrayal.
“Betrayal.” Matthew sucked in a breath and held his hand to his chest. “That does not sound good.”
“No, it wasn’t. That I can tell. She killed the Beithir and sent my family scattering.”
Silence fell as everyone’s mouth fell open at once. It would have been comical, really, if it wasn’t so damn serious.
“Bloody hell, woman. Your ancestor killed a freaking Beithir?” Faelan leaned forward, her eyes wide. “Do you have any idea the magick something like that would take?”
“Aye,” I said, and sucked in a breath, my eyes sliding to Graham’s. Reaching across the bar, he ran a hand down my arm.
“Go on,” Graham murmured.
“I don’t know the why of it, but I do know her actions sent literal shockwaves through the community. The Wrights broke apart … and took their artifacts with them.”
“Artifacts?” Hilda leaned forward. “As in plural?”
“Correct. There’s more than the Clach na Fìrinn out there.”
“Holy shit,” Sophie breathed, turning to look at everyone.
“So does that—”
“Wait, there’s more.” I held up my hand to stop Orla’s question.
A fine tremble had started through my body, and I just needed to get this out.
“When my ancestor killed the Beithir, it cursed my bloodline. Every man a woman loves will die at the loch. So far, that has come to pass for every generation in my family.”
“Graham!” Hilda’s exclamation was pained, as the entire group shifted to look at Graham.
“Oh,” Sophie said, looking between us, understanding dawning. “Ohhh. I get it now. I get why you denied him all these years. You were protecting him, weren’t you?”
“Aye,” I said, softly, tears welling. I hated that I was so emotional about this, but I could not think about Graham potentially being harmed without tears springing to my eyes.
And if that was the case, how the hell was I meant to protect him from the loch?
I could barely talk about it without crying, let alone fight a Beithir or whatever.
“Which, I’ve told her many times now, that she’s been a bloody eejit keeping this to herself,” Graham said and I whirled on him.
“How so?” I demanded. “Because I was right! You’d do exactly what you’re doing now. Ignoring the warnings and pretending you’ll be just fine. But you won’t be. And when you find out, it will be too late and we’ll be left with…” My voice cracked and I couldn’t continue.
“Hey, hey, hey now. It’s okay. You’re all right.” Liora hopped up and ran to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “We’ll sort this out. Together.”
“Aye, and Graham’s going to promise not to be a bloody eejit and wander about on his own, isn’t he?” Ramsay ordered, his tone sharp.
“What are you going to do about it, mate? Babysit me?” Graham lifted his chin at Ramsay, his brows drawing low over his forehead in a mutinous expression, and I sighed.
“See?” I said, weakly, waving a hand in the air. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Oh, right.” Sophie put her hands on her hips and surveyed where Graham and Ramsay glowered at each other. “Graham’s going to play tough guy, ignore the curse, and get himself killed.”
“Pretty much.” I winced.
“Och, I’m not going to—”
“You are.” Lachlan sighed. “Bloody hell, mate. We all know you.” He stood and walked forward until he was close enough to put a hand on Graham’s arm. “You’re as stubborn as Clyde thinks he is funny with his jump scares.”
Graham sighed and pinched his nose, and I pressed my lips together, waiting to see what the group would say.
“So what’s the plan?” Finn asked. “How do we help?”
Sophie took over, sliding into her natural leadership role like putting on a comfortable coat. “First priority is keeping Graham safe while Agnes works on the curse. The loch will try to take him, and we need to make sure it doesn’t get the chance.”
“Graham Watch,” Liora said. “Maybe we should make T-shirts.”
“Ohhh, I do love merch,” Matthew said, perking up.