Chapter 17 #3
“I agree. I think—” I hesitated, trying to articulate the feeling that had been nagging at me for days. “I think I need to understand why Isobel killed the original Beithir. The curse came from that act, but no one knows why she did it. Not even Quilliam.”
“Um, who is Quilliam?” Matthew raised a hand.
“Och! I have a familiar. He’s a book wyrm. A wee dragon,” I exclaimed, wishing I’d been able to bring him to the pub with me. “He kind of looks like a mini Beithir.”
“Um, say what now?” Matthew leaned forward, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “I one hundred percent need to meet this gentleman.”
“You do. I’ll bring him with me when we hit the archives,” I said.
“Perfect. And put me down for research. That’s entirely my wheelhouse,” Matthew said. He was a professor and loved nothing more than digging through stacks of history books. “We’re looking to find your ancestor’s motivation for killing a giant water serpent.”
“You think her motivation matters?” Sophie asked.
“I mean, maybe she was just scared?” Ramsay mused.
“You think her ancestor just walked into the loch and sliced the head off a dragon because she was scared?” Graham asked.
“I mean, I would.” Ramsay shrugged, and despite myself, I grinned.
“I think it might be the key to everything. If I can understand why she did what she did, maybe I can figure out how to undo it,” I said.
“Then we research,” Sophie said decisively. “The archives, the castle records, everything. If there’s an answer, it’s probably buried somewhere in the documentation. So, who is Team Research?”
Half the group raised their hands.
“And the rest of us?” Finn gestured to the others. “What do the lads do besides babysit Graham?”
“Graham Watch is not babysitting,” Lachlan said automatically.
“It’s absolutely babysitting.”
Graham could not glower more if he tried.
“It’s security duty.”
“You’re literally going to follow me around and make sure I don’t fall in water. That’s babysitting.”
“Fine. It’s babysitting. What do we do besides babysit?”
Sophie considered. “Maybe talk to people in the village, especially the older residents. Someone might remember stories about the Wrights. Folk memory can be surprisingly accurate.”
By the time we’d finished planning, it was late. My wine glass was empty and my head was spinning, partly from the alcohol, partly from the sheer heaviness of what we’d discussed.
But underneath the exhaustion, I was actually feeling almost … lit up? Like I had a reason to be optimistic for once?
“You okay?” Graham murmured, appearing at my elbow as the others began gathering their things.
“I think so. It’s a lot to process.”
“Tell me about it. My girlfriend’s family curse might try to kill me via rainstorm.”
“Girlfriend?” I froze at the word and Graham took one look at my face and threw his head back and laughed.
“Bloody hell, Agnes. What did you think was going on here?”
“I didn’t … I don’t …”
“Och, go on then, give us a wee kiss.” Graham brushed his lips across mine.
“Awwww,” Sophie and several others chorused.
“That’s it. The lot of you can go home,” Graham ordered, his eyes heating on mine.
“Agnes? You’ll keep an eye on Graham to make sure he doesn’t—”
“End up dead in a puddle? Aye. We’ve grasped the theme of the evening.
” Graham rolled his eyes, but still, he gave everyone hugs and pats on the back as they all filtered out in twos and threes, calling goodnights, making plans to meet up for research sessions.
Lachlan clapped Graham on the shoulder and promised to send over the watch schedule in the morning.
Sophie hugged me tightly and whispered, “We’ve got this,” before disappearing with Lachlan into the night.
Finally, it was just me and Graham in the empty pub.
“Well,” he said, looking around at the scattered glasses and empty chairs. “That was a lot.”
“Are you freaking out?” I asked, worry filling me.
“A little. You?”
“Constantly.”
He laughed and pulled me into his arms. I went willingly, pressing my face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I’m glad you told them. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“It was terrifying. But you were right. Carrying this alone wasn’t working.”
“I’m always right. It’s one of my many excellent qualities.”
“Don’t push it.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Come on. Let’s close up and go home. I need to take a quick shower before the water police decide I’m too fragrant for public consumption.”
“Emphasis on quick,” I reminded him.
“The quickest. In and out. No lingering.”
“Good.”
We cleaned up, then locked the pub and walked across the street to my flat, hands intertwined. The night was cool and clear, stars scattered across the darkness, the loch hovering darkly in the distance.
“Now let’s get inside before Lachlan pops out of a hedge to make sure I haven’t drowned in a rain puddle,” Graham said, nudging me toward the stairs.
“That’s not—” I stopped. “Actually, that’s exactly what he’d do.”
“I know. That’s what worries me.”
I followed him inside, laughing, and let the door close on the night, saving my worries for the morning.