by Helen Harper
‘Angus MacQuarrie,’ he ground out. ‘He was there when you supposedly died. Does he know the truth?’
Shite. I was getting the impression that there was little I could say to appease him. Maybe I should just jump on him again and kiss him. That would shut him up. I sighed. It would also only delay the inevitable.
‘How many times,’ I asked, ‘did I try to get you to see the truth about your father? I even tried again, right before the entire charade. I had no choice.’
‘There is always a choice, Integrity. Always.’
I drew myself up. ‘Yes, there is. I’m a Clan Chieftain, Byron. I have to make decisions and choices not just for myself but for the people under my care. If I hadn’t pretended to die, those demons would have kept after me until I really was a cold corpse. They would have hurt the people I loved, too.’
‘That doesn’t justify lying to me. Do you have any idea what that did to me? What the last few months have been like?’
‘I’m sorry. But you don’t seem to have been all that upset.’
He glowered. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘Your wedding to Tipsania,’ I said pointedly. ‘You don’t know where she is and yet you’re still going ahead with it. You’ve kidnapped the love of her life and you’re going to use him as bait to draw her out. And for what, Byron?’ I demanded. ‘So the Moncrieffes can have a bit more money to spend on blackmail and murder and…’
He stepped towards me with such a look in his eyes that I lost track of my words. ‘I am not my father.’
I barely heard him. ‘Yeah? But you’ve defended him enough bloody times! I told you again and again and you wouldn’t believe me! How was I supposed to trust you?’
‘Don’t you get it?’ his voice was strangled. ‘Don’t you understand how I feel about you? Your supposed death almost destroyed me, Integrity.’
‘Why are you still marrying Tipsania?’
‘I’m not.’ The magic inside me told me he was telling the truth. Confused, I shook my head while Byron clenched his jaw. ‘Why couldn’t you see how much your death would hurt me?’
‘It was a necessary evil.’ I glared at him. ‘Why is your friend rotting away in a damn dungeon?’
‘He’s perfectly comfortable and he’s there because I asked him to be there. I have a plan and he’s part of it. What the hell have you been doing all this time? Laughing at me?’
‘No. I’ve been getting stronger and sorting out my damned ancestral Lands. You know, the ones your fucking father effectively destroyed. And what’s your plan? What’s so important that it’s worth locking up someone for?’
‘Bringing down my fucking father.’
My mouth dropped open and I stared at him, stunned into silence. It wouldn’t have lasted long, however, if it weren’t for the sudden thump from outside. Byron and I looked at each other with wide eyes. He lunged forward, grabbed me and hauled me behind a large chintz-covered chair, effectively barricading me within the cage of his arms. He murmured, ‘Stay quiet.’
I raised my head, peered round the corner and spotted the chink of light under the door at the far end of the room. Someone was on their way.
‘Byron,’ I hissed. ‘Our clothes!’ They were still strewn all over the floor. He cursed and I felt his body tense then he used his Telekinesis Gift to yank at each discarded item and drag it out of sight. He was just in time – a heartbeat later the doorknob turned and a figure glanced in.
‘Hello?’
I tried not to breathe too loudly. I could feel Byron’s naked chest against my back, his pulse hammering.
‘Hello?’
‘There’s nothing there,’ someone else said. ‘Come to bed.’
‘I could swear I heard something.’
‘Love, no one is going to break into the Moncrieffe castle. If they did, the Steward would hunt them down and set their head on a pike.’ There was a yawn. ‘Come on. I need to sleep.’
I remained frozen, praying that the first figure would take the advice. Silence stretched out then the door closed and Byron and I were alone again. I exhaled. That was too close.
‘I thought you were a skilled thief,’ Byron murmured in my ear.
‘Usually, I come prepared,’ I replied with a hint of snottiness. I waited for a moment but he didn’t move. ‘You can let me go, you know,’ I told him.
For a second, his arms tightened as if he were afraid to let go. Then he released me and I stood up and began searching for my clothing.
‘Tell me,’ I said, finding my T-shirt underneath a chair and pulling it over my head, ‘why are you sneaking into your own house?’
‘It’s part of my plan.’ He tugged on his trousers. ‘I meant what I said. When I realised what my father was really doing – what he’d done – I started looking for ways to stop him.’
I paused. ‘So you believe me now?’
Byron’s answer was grim and he was telling the truth. ‘Yes.’ Still shirtless, he took my hands. ‘My father killed your parents and committed genocide against your entire Clan. He plotted to have you killed as well. And he’s probably in league with the Fomori demons.’ He drew in a breath. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before. And, trite as it sounds, on behalf of Clan Moncrieffe I am sorry for the wrongs done to you.’
Suddenly there was a painful lump in my throat. ‘Thank you.’ My fingers grazed the rough stubble on his cheek. ‘But it’s not your fault. Are you … are you okay?’
‘I’ve had a while to get used to the idea.’ He laughed harshly. ‘For a long time I was more fixated on the fact that you were dead.’
I swallowed. ‘How long have you known the truth?’
‘Eighty-two days. That’s how long you’ve been gone, Integrity. Eighty-two fucking days. I found out about an hour after you…’ He cursed and stared at me with an uncomfortable intensity.
Shite. That long? ‘I’m sorry too.’ I meant it with every atom of my being but words couldn’t compensate for the agony in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry I pretended I was dead. It wasn’t done to hurt you. I really didn’t think I had a choice.’ His eyes glittered in the faint light. I frowned. ‘Are you crying?’
Byron didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes.’
For some reason that scared me more than anything else. ‘Oh. Okay then.’
‘Does that make me less of a man?’
I smiled. ‘No.’
We grinned at each other like idiots until Byron glanced at his watch. ‘Damn it. We need to get a move on. I’ve got things to do and I have to get back to Perth before dawn.’ He pulled away and finished dressing.
‘Why? What exactly is going on?’
‘My father’s study. He must have papers in there which either incriminate him or provide more information about what he’s up to. I’ve been through what he has in the Cruaich and came up short. It makes sense that he’d hide the important stuff here, where it’s less likely there will be any snoopers. Jamie arranged the stag party and invited everyone who might possibly get in my way or find out what I’m up to.’
‘The whole party is a ruse?’
‘Yeah.’ He looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘I wasn’t expecting a stripper though.’
I smirked. ‘You fancied me.’
‘You had a great body.’
‘Had?’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Byron coughed while my smile grew. ‘She reminded me of you. You reminded me of you.’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind. Let’s not get into this now.’
I nodded but there was one other thing. ‘Candy,’ I said quietly. ‘And Tipsania.’
Byron sighed. ‘I know. I needed my father to believe I’d do what he wanted. Candy agreed to help. I knew Tipsania was probably still hiding at your Clan Lands so I was going to wait until the last minute and go down there with him.’
‘You’d threaten to hurt him if she didn’t come out.’
He looked away. ‘Yes. I need everyone to think the wedding is going
ahead. I wouldn’t have actually hurt him.’
It wasn’t a very sound plan and I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely. ‘You said you weren’t going to marry her.’ So that I didn’t come over as a whiny sort-of-ex-girlfriend, I added, ‘Tipsania doesn’t want you.’
‘I know. And I’m not. Trust me on this, Integrity, I’m really not going to say any vows. I didn’t think I’d ever get married after you…’ His voice faded and I watched him carefully. This wasn’t the Byron from before, it was an odd, contradictory mix; he was both harder and more vulnerable.
‘I need Tipsania there for the ceremony or my father won’t believe it’s real. He has to think that everything is as he wants it to be.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘All I requested was that the wedding take place on the Isle of Muck. My mother was from there so it was easy. It’s isolated and small and every damn Sidhe with an ounce of power in the Highlands will be there for it.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘The Steward demands it. I’m going to wait until everyone is in the church and expose my father to the world for what he really is. There will be too many witnesses for him to escape.’ He paused while I tried to absorb his words. ‘That’s why we need to move. If I can find proof in his study of what he’s done, everyone will have to believe me. He won’t be able to wriggle out of it.’
Byron was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly naïve; until I thought about his plan some more, I had no idea which. For now, however, I’d do whatever I could to help him. ‘Then,’ I said softly, ‘let’s get a move on.’
Chapter Ten
As we tiptoed out of the door and headed down a long, dark corridor, Byron insisted on holding of my hand. It was a bit weird and if I thought about it too much I’d probably have been annoyed but it was also oddly reassuring. To be fair, if I’d thought he’d died I might have not wanted to let go of him either. I kept my mouth shut and let him lead me past old portraits of frowning Moncrieffe Clan Chieftains until we reached a set of stairs down to the ground floor.
‘His study is that door at the bottom on the right,’ Byron whispered. ‘He keeps it locked when he’s not here and no one ever goes inside. I think I’ve only been in on six or seven occasions in my entire life.’
I couldn’t help being reminded of the Bull and his own special snowflake version. These old men with their secrets. I shook my head. Idiots.
We waited for a moment or two. When Byron was confident that everyone in the castle was either asleep or elsewhere, we padded down to the door. I reached up to my hair for the tiny lock pick I’d concealed there but Byron was prepared. As I watched, open-mouthed, he pulled his own version from his pocket, knelt down and got to work.
‘You have been busy,’ I murmured.
‘I’ve not been twiddling my thumbs for the last few months, Integrity,’ he sniped, obviously still not completely over the news of my resurrection.
It took him more time than it would have taken me but he managed to get the door open. Go, Byron. With a swift glance at me, he nodded and we entered. In comparison to the Bull’s study, this place was far neater. Other than old books on the shelves, there was little on display. The room possessed a certain shabby chic which, had I not known what Aifric was like, might have made me admire him.
Carefully closing the door behind me, I looked at Byron. ‘Do you know where he’s likely to keep the most incriminating documents?’ I asked.
‘One of my earliest memories is when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘I must have escaped from the nursery and come here to find my father.’ His expression soured. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry as when he realised I’d sneaked in.’
My heart went out to him. Since he’d discovered the truth about Aifric, he’d probably spent hours – days even – poring over their relationship and everything that had occurred between them. He’d have wanted to know if he could have accepted the truth earlier, or if there had been any clues that his own flesh and blood was a murdering maniac. I’d spent most of my life believing the same of my father and, although the circumstances were very different, I wasn’t insensitive to how Byron probably felt.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘from what I remember, there were renovations going on. There wasn’t anyone present apart from my father but the place was a mess. There were brushes and tools … it was like he’d been building something. I never thought much of it before but now I’m not so sure. What if he built somewhere to hide the things that no one else should see? Some kind of secret compartment or room?’ He gazed at me in mute appeal; he needed me to agree with him even if Aifric really had just been redecorating.
I considered Byron’s words and stepped back to get the best vantage point. The study was a perfect oblong and there were no signs of anything out of place. I had to trust his instincts, however. He watched me carefully. ‘Do you see anything?’
‘Not at this minute,’ I said truthfully. ‘Despite the age of most of the buildings in the Highlands, you’d be surprised at how few secret rooms there are. Even the ones that do exist are usually easy to find.’
Byron pointed behind himself. ‘I’ve not just been practising the art of lock picking,’ he told me. ‘I’ve also been scouting things here. The library is on the other side of this wall and a store cupboard in the opposite direction. The dimensions of the library are wrong. It’s cleverly concealed because of the shelving but, if there is a secret room here, it’s behind this wall.’
There was an easy way to find out. I edged from one side to the other, thumping the wall at strategic points. Thud. Thud. Thud. Dup. I grinned. Dup. Dup. Thud. ‘It looks like plaster but there’s definitely something behind here. It’s hollow. We need to find a way in.’
Byron’s eyes flashed in grim delight as if he were not sure whether to be pleased or dismayed that his suspicions were proving correct. He nodded decisively. ‘Step back,’ he said.
I did as he asked, thinking that maybe I was blocking his line of vision. As soon as I was out the way, he flicked his wrist and a little fireball coalesced in front of him.
I scratched my head. ‘Er…’
The fireball grew in size, hissing and crackling. Within the confines of the small study, the heat was immense and I was forced to turn my head. With one intense glare, Byron sent the fireball smack into the hollow part of the wall. The plaster crumbled almost immediately; it wasn’t just the fire but the force of the fireball that did considerable damage.
Dark billowing smoke filled the space. Coughing, I darted to the window and yanked it open. ‘If anyone is outside…’ I began.
Byron wiped his streaming eyes. ‘No one’s there. They’re all either upstairs or at the stag party. I made sure of it.’
I sighed. ‘All the same, I’m not sure wanton destruction was the best way to go.’
As the smoke cleared, I saw him shrug nonchalantly. ‘I’ve been planning this for a long time, Integrity. I wasn’t sure anything was here but I covered every eventuality. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’
I had no choice but to let it go. I mirrored his shrug, grabbed a sheaf of paper and wafted it vigorously to get the rest of the smoke out so we could see what was behind the magical door.
‘Bricks,’ I said. I peered closer. The fireball had certainly done its job; there was a good-sized hole in the wall. But if this really was Aifric’s secret room, where was the door? Maybe one of Aifric’s Gifts was the ability to turn himself incorporeal; that would be seriously cool.
Byron glanced inside. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he muttered. He flicked his hand again and sent out a small flame. In an instant the tiny space was flooded with light. I gasped and pulled back.
‘What—?’ Byron whispered.
I shook myself and checked again but I hadn’t imagined it. There were no boxes filled with dodgy documents, no flashing signs indicating that the evidence we needed to put Aifric away for good was here. There were, however, three fully-dressed corpses.
I retched. No wonder the bloody wall was bri
ck and the study’s dimensions were odd. Whoever these unfortunate people were, they’d been buried alive. They weren’t like the stripped skeleton of Matthew MacBain that I’d come across in the Lowlands; judging by the two quick glimpses I’d had, these bodies were more recent. Not this year, or even this decade, although they appeared more mummified than decomposed. Their clothes were old-fashioned but not ancient.
‘They’re not Sidhe,’ Byron muttered.
I steeled myself for another look. He was right. Nausea roiled across my stomach. ‘They’re not human or Bauchan or troll. Or anything like that. These three are … were…’
‘Fomori,’ Byron finished grimly. He looked like someone who thought they’d reached rock bottom and thought there was no way things could get any worse. The trouble was that I knew they always could.
‘We should go, Byron. There’s nothing else here and you probably woke up everyone when you busted the wall.’
‘We’re not leaving yet. There has to be something else, some evidence of his culpability.’
A thin layer of dust now covered Aifric’s desk. I tugged on the drawers, pulling them open and looking inside before gesturing helplessly. ‘See? Nothing. Much as hate to say it, your father is too smart to leave anything lying around, even here. I found evidence at his rooms in the Cruaich that he’d had something to do with Fomori demons.’ I pointed at the hole in the wall. ‘Now we have more. Those bodies look too recent to be anything other than a result of his work. Maybe that’ll be enough.’
‘It’s not,’ Byron growled. He glanced at me balefully. ‘You’re new to this world, Integrity. I’m not. I know exactly what it will take to get everyone to believe the truth about my father.’ He jerked his head at the three dead Fomori demons. ‘And this is not going to do it. He’s got a silver tongue that can talk him out of anything. Maybe he’ll place the blame on some poor builders who were never even here. Maybe he’ll even own up to it ‒ they are Fomori demons, after all. Who’s going to mourn their deaths? We’ve got your Clan emblem which Jamie gave to me. Even with his psychometry, that gives us circumstantial evidence against him at best. There’s the Fomori trinket you found which my father could dismiss as some kind of artefact. And these three bodies. It’s not enough.’