‘Hang on.’ Meredith pulled out a drawer in the cabinet and flipped to a specific set of notecards. ‘I took a photo of these for you. I didactuallycome to visit with useful information, you know.’ She scanned down the cramped text. ‘Says here that werewolves were forced from the land by an alliance between the Walkers and the Wulver. They’ve been afraid to return ever since.’
‘That’s what I thought.’ Cam frowned. ‘Whatisthe Wulver?’
‘I never met him,’ Meredith said uncertainly. ‘I just knew he was a… friend… of your parents. But only in the same way Bryce was. Distantly.’
‘Maybe it’s a title? Like witch,’ Cam mused, rubbing his chin. ‘It must be in the ledgers somewhere.’
So, if the notes were to be believed, there were no longer any native werewolves in Scotland, and the rest preferred to stay away. So not only had this particular werewolf travelled to Glencoe, but it potentially had crossed the boundary into the country in the first place. Presumably to find a witch. But why?
Why did anybody seek out a witch?
‘What if it needed help?’ Cam said aloud. ‘The werewolf, I mean. What if it was coming to ask for my help?’
‘Or for revenge,’ Meredith countered darkly. ‘If Walkers drove them out in the first place then I wouldn’t bank on it being friendly, hon.’
Cam shook his head doubtfully. ‘I don’t want to presume the worst. I’ve made that mistake before.’ His gaze slid sideways to Lachlan, who turned a deeper shade of pink. ‘Meredith, can you try to get hold of Bryce? Ask him to hold off on his hunt. I want to talk to him before it goes any further.’
She pulled out her phone eagerly, pleased to have an excuse to ring Bryce. ‘I can try. Don’t hold your breath though.’
She disappeared into the kitchen, frowning over a steady dial tone.
Cam studied the catalogue list over the note cabinet, wondering which category he’d find the Wulver filed under. The warmth of Lachlan’s arms curling around his waist from behind broke his concentration.
‘I know I can’t stop you,’ Lachlan said into his collar, ‘and I’m not going to ask you to forget the werewolf again. Butplease.We’ve come all this way. I want to helpyou,Cam. Just for a few hours, let’s focus on that. And then I promise I’ll do everything I can to help you with the werewolf.’
He was so tense, like he was struggling not to hold Cam even tighter—to not accidentally crack a rib or two in an effort to keep him rooted there. Cam eased around to face him and carefully prised Lachlan’s head up with one hand under his jaw. Lachlan’s eyes were sorrowful and resigned.
He’s right,Cam thought.If I’d known the werewolf was looking for me, I’d never have left.It would have become his priority.
I’m Lachlan’s priority,he realised with a surge of guilty adoration. It felt selfish, to want Lachlan to care for him this much.
He dipped to catch Lachlan’s lips in a long, warm kiss. He stroked along Lachlan’s jaw with his thumb, savouring the way both their bodies softened, relaxing into each other as all the tension drained away.
‘Thank you,’ Cam murmured against his lips as they parted. He wasn’t sure which exact thing he was thanking him for. For his promise to help with the werewolf; for his faith in finding a cure for the Scorch; for his persistence in coming with him through all of this absolute bullshit that came with being a Walker witch.
The least Cam could do was share that persistence and borrow his faith. They’d find a way, together.
He grinned widely, sparking a surprised smile from Lachlan in return.
‘Let’s get to work, then.’ Cam led him to the large desk and swept aside the mountain of ring-binders and loose papers to create some space in the middle. ‘Where do you want to start?’
Lachlan glanced at the sprawling family tree on the wall. ‘At the beginning, perhaps? You said your family has already tried to investigate your curse?’
‘My parents were collating a lot of it.’ From the massive bookcase Cam selected a notebook bound in red leather. It was slimmer and not as old as the other volumes, and he was careful to remove it without disturbing the salt barrier. ‘In here they summarised every known Walker death by fire. What triggered it, whether they were Scorched first, how young they were when the fire first presented in them. I think they were looking for patterns, or ways to avoid it happening.’
He pulled out the desk chair with its padded leather seat for Lachlan and grabbed a metal fold-up one from the corner for himself. He opened the red book between them on the desk and turned to the first entry. ‘This is Elspaith Walker. She’s the first known death by Scorching in the family. She was a travelling herbalist and midwife by trade.’
Lachlan glanced up at the family tree again. ‘She’s not at the top.’
Cam followed his gaze. Elspaith’s branch was about a foot down from the ceiling, around four generations from the first recorded witches in the family. She’d had three children which between them spawned the main trunk of the tree, eventually leading down to Cam and his mother at the bottom.
‘She’s just the first one we know about,’ Cam explained. ‘The notes are hazy that far back. A lot of it was passed down in oral history and written down later. We think her mother—up there—died to a kelpie, and the grandfather was supposedly lured off by fairies.’
Lachlan squinted at the writing in the ledger and pointed to the date. ‘1706. That’s when she died?’
‘Yes. Near you, actually. The notes don’t say where exactly, but she went up in flames somewhere on the banks of Loch Ness. We think she must have been fighting off an aquatic creatu—’ Cam stopped short, staring at the page.
When had he last read through these notes? More than a year. He hadn’t wanted to look at them. Every death entry felt like another nail hammering his own fate into place, proving just how inescapable it was. He’d been happy to forget the story of Elspaith, and every faceless name that came after her. Every one of them ended in fire.
