Page 44 of Dance in the Stones

“Mr. Damon?” The voice was female, with a strong local accent.

“Just Damon is fine, speaking.”

“My name’s Moira Campbell. I got your number from the management company that handles your lease on the Duncarrick cottage. I…er…I realize you don’t know me, but I wanted to ask a hypothetical question, and please feel free to just say no, if you’re not sure what I’m talking about.”

Damon glanced at Redford who was clearly listening in. “Ask away, Ms. Campbell.”

“My friends and I had been keeping an eye on Duncarrick Castle for a while, and heard that the new owner had returned recently with a view to renovating it, is that right?”

“That’s right. Redford Stone is the owner,” Damon said cautiously. “But the management company could’ve told you that. Was that all you wanted to know?”

“No. Sorry.” Moira sounded frustrated. “This would have been easier face-to-face, but please hear me out. People in our area belong to a specialist group…”

Redford scooted closer, and Damon nodded even though Moira couldn’t see him. “Go on.”

“And there are stories about the castle that date back to the 1500s that have been passed down in our lore since that time.”

A pack or coven perhaps? Redford asked through their bond.

“Okay.”

“Our elders have always spoken of how the castle used to be a safe space during troubled times for certain groups of people, and I guess my question is, did you find any information hidden in the east tower that would support that story?”

Damon looked at Redford. Should I say anything? Redford nodded. “Are you asking, Ms. Campbell, hypothetically of course, if the protectors with stone in their bones, and fire in their blood have come home to the castle?”

There was a long silence, and for a moment Damon thought the call had dropped out, but then Moira squealed, “Yes! Yes! Yes! There are paranormals in the castle again?”

“Yes,” Damon said, and he couldn’t help but smile. Moira sounded so genuinely excited.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much for understanding what I meant. I wanted to visit personally, but I didn’t know how without it being awkward. I’m the alpha of the Highland Pack down in Inverness.”

“I’m a hellhound, Ms. Campbell, and my mate Redford Stone is a gargoyle. He inherited the castle, and we’re restoring it.”

“Oh, my goodness, that’s wonderful. Listen, I don’t want to presume, but there are stories about Duncarrick. Old stories.” Her voice dropped. “About it being a sanctuary during the witch trials.”

“The stories are true. We found the documents.”

“Thank the Fates.” Relief flooded through her words. “Damon, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but there are paranormals in Scotland who still need sanctuary. Not from witch trials, obviously, but from other dangers. Abusive pack situations, clan politics, humans getting too curious. We’ve been managing on our own, but having an official safe house again…”

“We haven’t decided…” Damon started.

“Could we meet?” Moira interrupted gently. “Just to talk? I promise I’m not trying to pressure you, but if there’s even a tiny chance Duncarrick could open as a sanctuary again, I’d like to discuss what that might look like.”

Damon met Redford’s gaze across the room. His mate’s expression was thoughtful, one hand rubbing his jaw.

“Let me talk to my mate,” Damon said. “Can I call you back tomorrow?”

“Of course. And thank you. Even if you decide not to in the short term, just knowing that precious place is in good hands means more than you could know.” Moira gave him her number before hanging up.

“The sanctuary,” Redford said slowly. “She wants us to reopen the castle as a sanctuary.”

“We don’t have to…”

“But what if we did?”

Damon set down his phone. “What?”

“Think about it.” Redford stood, pacing again. “The castle called us here. You said Beatrice’s wards were keyed to gargoyles and hellhounds specifically. Maybe this is why. Not just to restore the building, but to restore its purpose.”