Cam guided Lachlan down a slope behind and away from the ruins. ‘Well, the castle was besieged by Clan Mackenzie, and the MacDonells surrendered. That’s why it’s been blown to pieces. And also why we’re here today.’
‘Ah. Because Redcaps are drawn to bloodshed?’
Cam nodded grimly. Despite the dark nature of the job they were here for, it felt good to have something other than Bryce to think about. There wasn’t a day the conniving bastard didn’t cross Cam’s mind. Made all the worse by the fact he couldn’t stray far from Loch Ness in order to track him down.
Instead, the Wulver was on Bryce’s trail—or attempting to be, anyway. Bryce was covering his tracks well. The Wulver’s irregular updates so far consisted of an assortment of news clippings reporting deaths by fire around the Highlands:Freak Bonfire Accident—Four Dead in House Fire—Fatal Arson Attack.If those headlines were marks of Bryce’s movements, then he was travelling fast and seemingly at random.
Cam forced the intruding thoughts to the back of his mind for now. He directed Lachlan across a small ditch and they skirted around the banks of Loch Carron, following the water’s edge for about a mile. Eventually they came to a rocky promontory which was hidden from view until you were right on top of it. In the middle of a circle of dead grass sat a large grey boulder. It was wrapped in rusted iron chains. The flaking metal had worn orange stains onto the rock.
‘This is it.’ Cam slung the backpack off his shoulders. ‘The Strome Redcap.’
Lachlan approached the stone curiously, but sensibly stayed outside the circle of decayed grass. ‘So, there are lots of these all across the country?’
‘Yeah. Redcaps were a real plague in Scotland during times of strife. Which was often,’ Cam said, unloading items from the backpack. ‘They feed on violence, so they try to cause more. The only way to stop a Redcap from doing harm is to imprison it. A lot of them have been sealed into Warding Stones like this one.’
This Warding Stone stood about a metre tall and was a dull, weathered grey. Not terribly imposing, especially when framed by the rest of the dramatic, rocky landscape. But up close it exuded a certain ominous energy: a prickling of the amygdala that warneddon’t get too close.
Cam detached a collapsible shovel from the backpack and unfolded it. He tossed three bundles of sage to Lachlan along with a lighter. ‘Can you set these on top of stones at three points around the circle? Keep them lit while I dig.’
Lachlan hurriedly followed his instructions, carefully lighting the ends of each bundle so that they let off a fragrant smoke. Meanwhile, Cam set to digging a thin trench around the circle of dead grass.
When Lachlan was done with the sage, he retrieved a small trowel and joined him, scooping a clearer channel where Cam had cut into the turf. ‘This will keep it contained while we replace the chains?’
Cam wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead. ‘That’s the idea. Redcaps and lots of other fae things don’t like the smell of sage, and salt is a natural—well, supernatural—binding agent. If it escapes the rock, then hopefully it won’t be able to get out of the salt circle.’
Lachlan paused, mid-scoop. ‘Hopefully?’
‘We’ll be fine,’ Cam assured. ‘I’ve replaced wards before. The trapped spirits don’t even wake up, usually. This one’s just… the notes say this Redcap was particularly cunning. We should be on our guard. Just in case.’
What Cam didn’t want to say, but he suspected Lachlan knew anyway, was that Lachlan’s newly human condition worried him. For three hundred years, Lachlan had been used to being the strongest creature in his vicinity; a monster that could take a hit without blinking and heal wounds with little trouble. Hell, he’d apparently mangled an entire flipper under a steamboat once, and the only evidence left behind was a pale (though admittedly large) scar on his left shoulder.
Cam was in those inhuman shoes now, but he didn’t feel nearly as invincible. Even though this warding should be a routine job, he was on high alert for any sign of danger. Because if Lachlan got hurt now…
Cam couldn’t lose him. Wouldn’t.
Once the ditch was finished, Cam pulled out the pouch of rock salt and carefully began pouring it in. He walked a ring around the stone, ensuring that the salt circle was fully closed. No gaps. No spaces to escape.
‘Now we cover it,’ he said. It took much less time to bury the salt ring than it had to dig it in the first place. Once finished, they stopped to take on some water.
‘Chains next?’ Lachlan asked as Cam retrieved them along with a pair of bolt cutters from the backpack.
‘Yep. You should stay outside the circle for this bit.’In case anything happens. Which it won’t. But just in case.
Lachlan obediently retreated, while wafting sage smoke away from his nose.
Cam stepped into the circle. He felt briefly unbalanced: the sensation of crossing a boundary. Once his feet were on the patch of dead grass around the Warding Stone, the world became eerily quiet. As though neither the wind nor the distant sound of birds could penetrate this lonely space.
Cam licked his lips. This was normal. He’d been in liminal spaces before. Places where reality bent a little out of shape. They always had an unearthly quality; a foreboding sense that he could fallinoracrossin some way. But this one felt darker than most. As though unheard screams lingered on the edge of the uncanny silence.
He approached the stone, intensely aware of the weight of his footsteps. His Nessie form dragged on him constantly like a spectre, making all of his movements heavy. Now it seemed even more so, as though this boundary-space had thinned the walls that separated him from the monster.
Cam tried to shrug it off and concentrated on the Warding Stone before him. His Scorched eye allowed him to see the pink luminescence of magic contained within the rock itself, like a fine sheen over the surface. The iron chains, by contrast, were a dark void: solid and black in his vision, despite the rust. Like a negative of the paranormal force they confined.
Iron, like the salt and sage, was a strong fae repellent. Something in its molecular structure interfered with their corporeal forms. In this case the chains prevented the Redcap from taking shape outside of the stone. Cam would need to be quick when replacing them.
The old rusted chains snapped away from the rock with little effort from the bolt cutter. Cam tossed them to the side and unfurled the new chains, ready to re-confine the stone.
A voice in his head shocked him into dropping them.
