Page 25 of Alec

Chapter Seven

“Tasgall and I have checked the archives to be sure,” Ava said as she went to the board mounted on the wall of the laird’s chamber, which she had been using as her bull pen. “No one has ever entered the spell trap by falling into a pit. None have claimed they were forced inside, either. Olivia Gibson is the first victim of the old man with the red eyes.” She wrote the surveyor’s name on the board.

“We still don’t know if your killer came in here willingly,” Ben put in. “From what she said before she died, it may be that someone deceived her into entering the trap for safe haven, or to look for this treasure she mentioned.”

“Let’s deal with facts first.” Ava wrote the woman’s name next to Olivia’s, and then added her own before underlining all three. “Olivia and I came here in our professional capacities. We both met with the owner of the property before we entered the castle. We were given maps to follow that led us to the spell trap’s entry. That’s all we know for sure.”

“We dinnae ken much, then,” Farlan muttered, his expression wry.

The discussion that followed didn’t provide much in the way of new information, until Darro offered a theory.

“Our healer and all of the outsiders who came before him entered the trap freely, and of their own accord,” the chieftain said. “Lady Ava and Mistress Gibson were summoned here. Insects that couldnae survive here appeared at the same time you did, my lady. From the manner in which they grew ’tis obvious they’d been enchanted. All seems deliberate, as if planned by another. Only one in the outside world should ken what the trap contains, and how to thwart the enchantment.”

“You think the one who cursed the clan in the twelfth century is behind this, and is out there somewhere in my time,” Ava said. “For that to be possible, they’d have to be immortal—which means they’re half or full blood Fae.”

“Could it be a McKeran?” Ben asked.

Tasgall shook his head. “My sire left a blank scroll that permitted Darro and me to locate all of our brothers before we formed the clan. Every one of them, they’re here with us in the trap.”

“Did your father have any Fae kin who might want to get rid of the clan?” Ava asked her husband.

“None. According to my lady màthair, he became a hunter-warrior for his king because he was the last of his bloodline, and didnae wish to remain in Elphyne. He lost all of his blood kin in a war with the dark Fae.” He thought for a moment. “Tuirne’s tribe ever resented Keran for siring two sons with her. The magic folk, they’re particular about the purity of their bloodlines.”

“They’d never curse an entire clan,” Darro said to the laird. “’Twould go against their beliefs and indeed, their laws. Druids never inflict harm unless ’tis judged appropriate by their high council. Only Tuirne could go before them and demand justice, and never did she.”

“No’ all live pure,” one of the other chieftains put in. “I’ve heard tales of renegades among druid kind. ’Tis even a tale about one tribe that used blood magic to do the unspeakable.”

“Never have we crossed druids,” Tasgall said. “As such they’ve no reason to curse us.”

“Pure blood Fae are known to utterly despise mortal halflings,” Farlan put in, “but ever they slay at once those they discover.”

“That takes us back to the MacBren.” Ava wrote his name on the board. “Since the clan is forced to relive the events that happened before he and his wife were murdered, the curse seems tied to them. Your vassals believe it was an act of vengeance by their daughter. That would be the same daughter you’ve been refusing to marry.”

“Like her parents, Torra’s mortal,” Tasgall pointed out. “As such she’s long dead.”

“Unless she had druid blood, and reincarnated as the laird’s lady màthair did,” Farlan countered. “As such, mayhap she’s the druid we crossed.”

All of the men began sharing their opinions, until it became clear that there were too many unknowns involved for them to make an informed guess about the one responsible.

“We need more facts to build a better profile of the person who cursed the clan,” Ava said finally. “I’ll speak with Olivia Gibson again. In the meantime, we need to be on alert for anything that might have come through with her. Let’s ask all the guards and household staff to be on the lookout. I’d also like to put together some search teams to check the stronghold, especially areas that are seldom used.”

“If ’tis another insect, and ’tis been enchanted to attack and render us helpless,” Farlan said, “we’ll ken soon enough.”

A guard burst into the room, bowed quickly and said, “Healer, you’re needed in the infirmary. Inga found one of the maids frozen in a passage, only she cannae seem to warm her.”

Ava exchanged a look with her husband before she hurried after Ben, with the sound of Tasgall barking orders behind them. When she arrived at the infirmary she had to wade through a throng of maids and sculleries. She paused for a moment to reassure them before she asked them to clear out, and had two guards take up positions to prevent any more spectators from packing into the hall. As soon as she walked inside and saw Ben working on the maid her heart sank, as it was Elspeth, the head chambermaid.

The guard had been right; frost appeared to cover the girl’s dark skin in a thin, white layer. Ice crystals glittered on her hair and eyelashes as well.

“Inga, have the maids fetch a bucket of hot water for me,” the healer told the hovering chatelaine, who nodded and rushed out.

Ava went to stand beside him. “I saw her this morning, and she was fine. It’s not cold enough outside to do this to her even if someone doused her with water.”

“It’s not natural. Look.” He took hold of the chambermaid’s wrist and held it for thirty seconds, and then removed his hand. The frost covering her skin remained intact. “The heat of my touch should melt the top layer of this, but it didn’t. It may resemble ice, but it isn’t cold at all.”

Ava brushed her fingertips against the girl’s arm. “It’s like glass.” She met Ben’s gaze. “Hot water isn’t going to thaw her, then. She’s been paralyzed, not frozen.”

“Another fucking cocoon.” The healer picked up one of the daggers from his instrument table and tried to cut through the ice, only to snap off the end of the blade. He swore and walked across the room, kicking everything in his path.