The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

likes of ye. Be gone now. I done spread salt across the threshold, and me wife’s got a vial of holy water what came all the way from Inverness.” The bloodshot eye blinked.

“What happened at Nithdane Keep?” Magnus widened his stance and fixed the eye with his grimmest stare. “What became of Lady Bree Maxwell’s child?”

The window to his left creaked, and the barrel of a gun slid through the crack between the shutters. “Get out of here, ye devil. Ye’ve stirred all the evil here ye’re gonna stir. We willna bear no more from ye! Be gone, or we’ll see if ye bleed like the rest of us.”

“Dinna shoot him,” screeched a higher-pitched voice, a woman from somewhere inside. “He’ll curse ye like he did Nithdane and the Maxwell women.”

It was times like this that Magnus wished his mother had never instilled within him the belief that whatsoever you send out returns to you in thrice. Her warning had stayed his hand many a time—but not this one.

“Tell me what happened to Nithdane Keep and Lady Bree’s child, or I’ll curse the lot of ye to a slow death from the pox!” He added a thunderous stream of Latin to the threat, wondering if anyone within earshot understood the wicked-sounding words. His Latin was a mite rusty. If he remembered rightly, he had just threatened to awaken a dragon and feed their ships to it, but he wasn’t sure. Wouldn’t it be grand if he really could?

Apparently, Evander’s education included Latin. His snicker changed to a coughing fit when Magnus jerked around and shot him a dark glare. If that boy ruined this ruse, he’d thrash his talkative arse for him.

To ensure the weapon’s bearer heeded the woman’s warning and didn’t shoot, Magnus scooped up a clump of dirt and jammed it in the end of the barrel. “Now that yer weapon’s fouled, ye best speak or die. Tell me of the keep and Lady Bree.”

The gun slid out of view, but the crack between the shutters remained, held open by a thick, stubby finger. “Old Red Caunich razed the keep when his betrothed—yer precious Lady Bree cuckolded him.”

Someone spit, making Magnus tighten his jaw. How dare that bastard spit after saying Lady Bree’s name.

“His lairdship, the Caunich,” the voice continued, “Didna take kindly to such disrespect. Killed all in the keep. Burned them alive. Leastways, the ones he didna hang from the cliffs or impale on the pikes.” The voice wheezed in a deep breath, then coughed. “He hunted down many in the clan, too. Swore he wouldna leave a Nithdane alive to speak of this shame. ’Twas only by God’s good grace that he spared this here village. Right as he was coming to attack us, a powerful ague came upon him. Left his sword arm paralyzed and turned him mute. The Caunich took it as a sign he had done enough to avenge the insult, so he returned to his keep and left us in peace.”

Magnus scrubbed the stubble of his jaw, mulling over the man’s words. The letter that had finally caught up with him at Sutherland MacCoinnich’s keep had said the Lady Bree had died in childbirth. Said he had a son. When had Red Caunich attacked? “When?”

“When?”

“Aye. When did all this happen?” Magnus shoved the shutters aside and reached through the open window, grabbing hold of the wide-eyed man by the throat. “When did Red Caunich destroy the Nithdanes?”

Clawing at Magnus’s arm, the pub keeper made a futile attempt to wriggle free. “’Twas when his lairdship arrived to claim his bride and found they banished her for her whoring. Her and her sister both. The Nithdane thought the banishment might appease the raging laird, but it didna do so. Old Red Caunich said it was his right to punish the Lady Bree—not her father’s. Said he wouldha cut the bairn from her belly and left’m both on the cliffs to feed the terns.”

Magnus released the man with a shove. They had banished Lady Bree. And her sister, too. He turned and glanced back toward where Nithdane Keep had once stood. The heartless banishment had saved their lives. “Where did they go? Lady Bree and her sister?” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the sister at all. Before the pub keeper could close the shutters, Magnus slammed them both open wide and held them. “Tell me where they went or die.”

“I dinna ken,” the man said as he stumbled backward. He pointed a shaking finger at the floor. “That there’s the salt. Ye canna cross it, ye wicked son of Satan.” Then he jabbed a finger at Magnus. “The whore’s maid ran from the keep afore old Red came. She told us ye were the one that put that bastard in her mistress’s belly afore ye returned to yer throne beside the Earl o’ Hell. Said we shouldha held her ’neath the waters ’til Satan’s spawn left her soul in peace. But it was too late. The whore and her sister had done escaped.”

Magnus launched himself through the window, shattering the glass as he slammed the sashes aside. He dropped to the floor, scooped up a handful of salt, then ground it into the sniveling man’s face. “I’ve a revelation for ye, ye spineless son of a whore. I’m the most powerful demon of them all. Neither salt nor holy water stops me.” He shoved the man back, bouncing his head against the wall. “What direction did Lady Bree and her sister take?” Tightening his hold on the fool’s throat, he lifted him until his feet dangled above the floor. “And if ye value yer life, ye’ll speak of her with respect, ye ken?”

“I swear I dinna ken where she went,” the man rasped, his round face reddening.

“Follow the coast!” shouted a heavy woman from behind the bar. “East, I’d say. Along the coast.” She shoved her disheveled mop of graying hair out of her eyes. “If’n it was me that got