Page 41 of The Last Kelpie

Julian sighed. “Caelum tries to look after the ones we know, but he still mourns Velas. Life for him is part triumph and part pain. If you tell him what happened, it will shatter him.”

Áedán grimaced. “I ken what grief can do to a man. Very well, I accept your explanation. You have one last chance to save my myth, Julian. I'm all that's left.”

“I know.” Julian put an arm on Áedán's shoulder and turned him toward another hallway. “So let's not waste any time. Ethan, have you documented what Áedán remembers?”

I hurried up to walk beside Áedán. “I have, but there's something strange going on.” I told Julian about Moira, the vicious new story about kelpies, the spiral in the pond, the stones underwater, all we'd seen in the visions, and then the second spiral that appeared after the visions vanished. By the time I finished, we had reached the door of the Great Archive.

“The visions vanished?” Julian frowned as we entered the Great Archive. “The situation is more dire than I'd thought. I don't recall anything about a spiral, but it's not important right now.”

“Not important?” I gaped at him.

Julian held up a hand. “It is likely connected to a spell, but it's just a tool. The result is more important. We need to find when the myth changed. Then we follow those changes back to their source. The tool will reveal itself along the way.”

“I understand.” I nodded.

The Great Archive rose around us, vast and impossible, with shelves stretching up into the shadows. The smell of old paper and something metallic filled my nose. Agnes Whitlock was at her desk near the entrance, her silver-blonde hair in its severe bun, and wire-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose.

She looked up when we entered. Her pale blue eyes assessed Áedán with the same intensity she'd once used on me.

“Mr. Áedán.” She stood, smoothing her skirt. “It's been quite some time.”

“Agnes.” He inclined his head with old-fashioned courtesy. “You look as bonnie as ever.”

“Flattery will not excuse your absence.” Her expression softened slightly. “I assume you're here for the kelpie records?”

“I'll leave you in Agnes's capable hands.” Julian nodded to Agnes. “I need to speak with Caelum about this.”

“I'll take care of them.” Agnes motioned us into the room. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

She led us deep into the Archive, past sections on European folklore and shelves dedicated to water spirits and shapeshifters. Finally, she stopped in front of a locked cabinet made of dark wood.

“These are Velas's personal journals.” She produced a key from one of her many cardigan pockets. “They are not part of the general collection. They contain his private observations and research. I have a feeling that you should start here. When you're done, you'll find the kelpie section in the fourth standing bookshelf within the Scottish Collection.” She pointed in that direction.

“Yes, Julian pointed it out to me before. Thank you, Agnes,” I said.

“Of course.” She opened the cabinet doors to reveal rows of leather-bound notebooks filling the shelves, each one labeled with dates and subjects in neat handwriting. Agnes ran her finger along the spines until she found what she was looking for.

“Kelpies. Written between 1522 and 1536.” She pulled out a slim volume and handed it to me. “Please handle it carefully.”

As Agnes returned to her desk, I carried the journal to a nearby reading table and turned on the little brass lamp in the center. Áedán sat beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched. The journal was old but well-preserved; the leather soft under my fingers.

I opened it carefully. Elegant and precise script flowed across the pages in faded brown ink. The first pages detailed observations about kelpie behavior, their relationship with water, and their role as guardians. There were sketches of horses rising from lochs and celebrations with humans.

I turned the pages slowly, reading about Velas's first encounter with a kelpie clan and his theories about their connection with the water. He found it strange that the Scottish people, whose imagination had created kelpies, had come up with a guardian that was a horse who lived in the water. He posed a few theories on how the myth came to be, including one in which a normal horse saved its rider from drowning by pulling him out of the water with its reins. If that had happened, people would view horses as guardians, and the water connection could have led to the kelpie myth. Áedán leaned closer, reading over my shoulder.

Then I reached the final pages. Or where the final pages should have been. The last ten pages had been cut away. Not torn, but cut cleanly with a blade sharp enough to leave the edges smooth. The binding showed where they'd been removed.

“Agnes!” I called.

She appeared immediately, as if she'd been waiting in the stacks nearby. When she saw the damaged journal, her expression turned cold. “That's impossible. No one in the Velasca would damage a book, much less one of Velas's journals.”

“When was the last time someone accessed the journals?” Áedán asked.

Agnes went to the cabinet and pulled out a ledger tucked into a nook at the top. She flipped through pages, her finger tracing down columns of names and dates. “Three months ago. Dr. Hassan Al-Masri requested access to research Velas's notes on fire spirits.”

“Then you should speak to him.”

“I can't imagine him doing anything to the journals.” Agnes's jaw was tight as she looked further back in the ledger. “I'd trust my life to every person on this list.” She looked up at us. “Which means someone accessed the collection without authorization. Someone who can pick locks.” She pushed the door shut and examined the lock. “I don't see any sign of the lock being picked. But there are only two keys to this cabinet. One I wear around my neck and the other belongs to Caelum.”