Sir Buster threw back his head and howled.
“I do so love a dramatic entrance.”Quilliam sighed.
“What in the…”
“Is that a book wyrm?” Hilda came forward, tea forgotten.
“Full marks to our castle keeper,”Quilliam said, though of course only I could hear him.“Tell her I said hello. And that her cataloging system is adequate, though she misfiled the 1623 land surveys.”
“He says hello,” I translated. “And that you misfiled the 1623 land surveys.”
Hilda’s hand flew to her chest. “He can speak?”
“In my head, apparently. His name is Quilliam.”
“It’s you, isn’t it, then?” Archie, a gruff man with a shock of white hair, bushy eyebrows, and kind eyes, asked.
“You what?” Sophie whirled, looking between Archie and me.
I took a deep breath. This could be the moment that changed everything. So far, I’d been a helper to the Order, but now, based on my family history, I might also be a hindrance. And it was on me to come clean about it with my friends. Hell, my family. My eyes skidded over to Lachlan, one of my oldest friends, and only found love there.
“I found something in the archives, and I don’t think it’s good. Like, I think someone in my family did something really bad at some point down the line.” I crossed to the table and pulled out my phone, showing them the photographs I’d taken. “The Wrights weren’t just connected to the Order. We were part of it. There was a position—a title—called the Bookkeeper. It seems my ancestors held it for generations.”
Hilda took the phone, scrolling through the images with growing excitement. “Bookkeeper. Aye, of course, Agnes. Of course! I’ve seen references to this, but I never understood what it meant. I thought it was just a term for whoever maintained the archives.”
“It was more than that. The Bookkeeper was responsible for witnessing oaths, keeping records, maintaining connections.” I hesitated. “And according to what I found, the position has been vacant since 1746. Since Isobel Wright.”
“Isobel,” Sophie said slowly. “Is she from your family then?”
“Aye.”
“Och, lass.” Archie shook his head and I knew what he was remembering. “She was the one, wasn’t she? The one who?—”
“Aye. Supposedly betrayed the Order? Or so it seems.” My throat felt tight. “She did something terrible. Something so bad they wouldn’t even write it down. And after that, the Bookkeeper position was never filled again. The Wright line was... cast out, I suppose. Cursed.”
The room went quiet. Archie moved to Hilda’s side, looking at the photographs over her shoulder.
“It makes sense,” Hilda murmured. “The Order was always meant to have nine members.”
“And we have eight,” Sophie said, turning to me with her eyes alight in her face. “Agnes. You’re the ninth. You’re the one we’ve been waiting for.”
“Apparently.”
“Obviously,”Quilliam corrected.“There’s nothing apparent about it. The Stone has been waiting for a Wrightto step into their role for three centuries. Why do you think the Order kept having trouble staying complete? Why do you think the Kelpies have been so restless for decades now? Sure, they’ve risen up more recently, but they’ve never been fully buried, as Lachlan can well tell you. As your own mum can tell you. The Order was never whole. It couldn’t be, without its Bookkeeper.”
I relayed his words, and Sophie automatically turned, reaching out to grip Lachlan’s hand at the mention of his mother who had drowned in the loch.
“It’s you, then.” Hilda’s smile was encouraging, even as I fought the guilt that somehow my family was responsible for all these losses through the years. “You’re the key. You’re the final piece we’ve been missing.”
“A piece that my family broke.” The guilt sat heavy as a stone in my stomach. “Whatever happened didn’t just curse us. It seems like it almost ruined the Order itself.”
“But surely you can fix it, right?” Hilda asked, her eyes bright. “If you step into the role. Don’t you see? That’s what’s needed here. Without someone accepting the role and overseeing this, well, nothing changes. I’m certain you can change it.”
“Can she though?” Archie looked at Quilliam with scholarly fascination. “Is that how it works? The descendant of the one who broke faith can restore it?”
“Aye, in theory,”Quilliam said, crossing his arms over his wee chest.“Her blood carries both the sin and the potential for redemption. Agnes is the last daughter of the Bookkeeper line. Only she can restore what was lost.”
“He says that in theory, it should be possible that I can help,” I told them.
