I stared at him. The tea in my hands was burning my fingers, but I barely noticed.
“I’ve been sitting here for two days, drowning in documents, making conspiracy boards, muttering about ThreeQueens…and you knew the whole time? You knew what happened and you just... didn’t mention it?”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t—” I set the tea down before I threw it at him. “What do you mean I didn’t ask? I’ve been asking! I’ve been doing nothing but asking!”
“I mean, not technically. You’ve been muttering out loud to yourself.”Quilliam’s tail flicked and he lifted his wee head.“You’ve been asking the books. But you never actually asked me.”
“Because I assumed—I thought—” I pressed my palms against my eyes. “I thought you’d volunteer information that was relevant to my desperate search for information.”
“That’s a rather large assumption. I’m a familiar, not a mind reader. You humans are always assuming we know what you want without you having to say it. Very frustrating trait of yours.”
I dropped my hands and glared at him. He gazed back, unperturbed.
“Quilliam.”
“Aye?”
“What did Isobel Wright do in 1746?”
He was quiet for a moment. The playfulness that usually colored his voice faded away, replaced by something heavier.
“She killed the Beithir.”
My mouth dropped open. I, quite simply, could not compute what he’d just said.
“She killed the Beithir,” I repeated, a dull ache spreading across the back of my neck and shoulders.
“Aye. She slaughtered the guardian of the loch.”Quilliam’s scales dimmed slightly, the shimmer fading.“The Beithir was important, Agnes. And Isobel Wright walked into the loch one winter night and struck it down.”
I sank onto the stool behind the counter because my legs wouldn’t hold me anymore.
“But... why? Why would she do that?”
“That, I don’t know.”His voice was soft now, almost sad.“I’ve wondered about it for three hundred years. Isobel was a good Bookkeeper, from what I remember. She was meticulous and dedicated. She loved the Order, loved her role, loved the work of preserving and protecting. And then one night, without warning, without explanation, she committed this act that just … changed Loren Brae’s history forever.”
“The Beithir is still there, though. I’ve seen it. How can that be?”
“Aye, it’s his son, Agnes.”Quilliam flew from the counter to land on the edge of my whiteboard, his tiny claws gripping the metal frame.“The Beithir didn’t die without a fight, Agnes. From my understanding, as Isobel struck the killing blow, the creature used the last of its power to curse your line.”
I sucked in a breath, dizziness washing over. How? And why? How had one woman killed a beast of such power?
“Agnes.”Quilliam’s voice was worried now.“You don’t look so good. Perhaps you should sit down.”
“I am sitting down.” I pressed a hand to my chest to slow my breathing. This was way more ghastly than anything I had anticipated.
“Then perhaps you should lie down. Or put your head between your knees. That’s what humans do when they’re about to faint, isn’t it?”
“I’m not going to faint.”
“You look like you might faint.”
“I’m not—” I stood up abruptly, knocking the stool over. It clattered against the floor, obscenely loud in the quiet shop. “I need air. I need to get out of here.”
“Agnes, wait. We should talk about this. There may be ways to at least understand it better. If you’d just?—”
But I was already heading for the door. I just needed a moment to breathe.
