Her scream cut through the early dawn, through the bellowing of Clyde and the shrieking of the Kelpies and the shouts of our friends charging down the slope behind me. She was reaching for me.
And I couldn’t get to her.
“Agnes!”
Fuck.
The Beithir turned, carrying her out across the dark water toward the island. A small rocky outcrop, perfectly cylindrical, set at the far side of Loch Mirren, barely large enough for a few trees and a tumble of ancient stones. It deposited her there, dropping her onto the rocks like an offering, imprisoning her.
And then it turned back toward the shore.
Toward me.
Its eyes met mine across the dark water.
I didn’t run.
Every instinct screamed at me to turn and flee, to get as far from the water as possible, to let the others handle this while I cowered in the castle like a sensible human being.
But Agnes was on that island. Agnes was alone with that thing. And I would rather drown a thousand times than abandon her.
“Let her go,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. “Whatever your quarrel is with the Wright family, it’s not with her. She’s trying to help, has always been trying to help. Don’t you see? Agnes is the glue that holds everything together.”
The Beithir’s eyes flickered. Or perhaps I was just imagining it.
Then it opened its mouth and roared, and the soundwas like thunder and the end of the world. Footsteps pounded behind me.
“Graham! Watch?—”
The wall of water hit me before I could draw another breath.
It was pure violence. Centuries of rage crashed over my head with the full force of Loch Mirren behind it.
I was lifted off my feet and tumbled into the water, spinning every which way. I couldn’t tell which way was up, couldn’t find the surface, couldn’t do anything but flail against the current that gripped me like a fist. It was like being tossed into some sort of maniacal washing machine.
The cold was absolute. Crushing. It drove the air from my lungs and the thoughts from my head, leaving nothing but animal panic and the desperate need to breathe.
Something gripped me, pulling me deeper, and I struggled against the force of it.
This is how it ends.This is how the curse finally wins.
The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was Agnes screaming my name.
The last thing I saw was her face—pale and terrified on that distant island—her hands reaching toward me across the black water before I was once more tossed beneath the surface.
The last thing I felt was the cold wrapping around my heart like a lover’s embrace.
And then there was nothing.
Nothing but darkness.
Nothing but silence.
Nothing but the deep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AGNES
