into the woods that divided the smithy from the hill, and from Dunsinnan House.
If I yelled, the intruder would take off. If I waited for Ben and Eircheard, or went to fetch them, the intruder would be long gone.
My grip on the knife tightening, I slipped into the woods in the wake of the shadow.
The woods turned out to be a stand no more than ten feet thick, after which they opened up again. At the edge of this clearing, I paused. It was not a work of nature. It was a carefully shaped circle, lined on the inside with a ring of immense old beech trees, the last of their leaves rustling like dry paper. Inside the trees hunched a circle of standing stones. Not as tall or as massive as Stonehenge. Lumpier, somehow. Older and less refined. And in the darkness, far more powerful. A brooding, ancient power.
Wind swept through the treetops. I glanced up, watching them bend and lash against the star-scattered circle of night overhead, their moaning rising from a low murmur to the howl of an oceanic gale. Leaves floated downward in large, eddying flakes, as if the sky were snowing darkness. I shivered and drew my jacket closer around me.
When I looked back down, a figure stood in the center of the stones. The silhouette, black on black, of a woman from an earlier century, her long hair and gown stirring in the wind. A dry hiss left her lips, and she began to glide toward me.
10
THE BLADE in my hand burned with a cold fire; it seemed to buzz at a pitch so low that I felt rather than heard it, as if it were resonating with some strong source of energy. Backing a few paces, I turned to run, but her arm whipped out and gripped my wrist. I yelped, but only a squeak came out.
“It’s me, Kate,” she whispered. “ Lily. ”
Lily alive, or Lily dreamed and dead? My heart thudding hard in my chest, I slowly turned around.
Her face was pale in the faint light, her wide-set eyes large and dark. What had looked like the gown of a renaissance lady resolved into a coat with a tight bodice and long flaring skirt. Above the coat, her throat was a pale column, unmarked.
“Do you think it’s true?” she asked in a low voice. “Do you think that’s a ritual knife?”
I glanced down at the dagger and then back up. “How much did you overhear?”
“All of it.” She grinned sheepishly. From over at the smithy came a shout. “ Kate! ” It was Lady Nairn.
“Damn,” said Lily. Her grip on my arm tightened. “Please don’t tell her I was here. I’m already entry A-one on her shit list.”
I was staring at her wrist gripping my arm. On it was a small tattoo I hadn’t noticed before. A delicate five-pointed star. A pentacle, the symbol of witches—of Wicca, the neo-pagan religion of witchcraft.
Lady Nairn called again. “Please,” whispered Lily, her eyes pleading. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Fifteen going on twenty-five, Lady Nairn had said of her. In the days following my parents’ death, I’d been very like her. Unpredictable and a little wild. But she was, at heart, a good kid. “Go on, then,” I said with a wave of the hand.
She flashed a wide smile. “Thanks. You’re awesome.” She dashed across the circle, in the direction of Dunsinnan House.
In a bright, evil flare the image of her body, bound and naked on the hilltop, flashed across my mind. “Lily,” I said, stepping after her. At the far edge of the clearing, she looked back. “You’ll be all right?” I asked, feeling suddenly both frightened and foolish.
“No worries. We’re practically in the back garden. Besides, we’re too bloody far out in the sticks for a bogeyman to bother in the first place.” And then she was gone, her passing barely stirring up a rustle amid the deep bracken.
I was turning to head back to the forge when a voice whispered out from the woods at my back. Why did you bring the dagger from that place?
I whirled. “Who’s there?”
Another voice snaked from the right. It must lie there….
And a third voice came
If I yelled, the intruder would take off. If I waited for Ben and Eircheard, or went to fetch them, the intruder would be long gone.
My grip on the knife tightening, I slipped into the woods in the wake of the shadow.
The woods turned out to be a stand no more than ten feet thick, after which they opened up again. At the edge of this clearing, I paused. It was not a work of nature. It was a carefully shaped circle, lined on the inside with a ring of immense old beech trees, the last of their leaves rustling like dry paper. Inside the trees hunched a circle of standing stones. Not as tall or as massive as Stonehenge. Lumpier, somehow. Older and less refined. And in the darkness, far more powerful. A brooding, ancient power.
Wind swept through the treetops. I glanced up, watching them bend and lash against the star-scattered circle of night overhead, their moaning rising from a low murmur to the howl of an oceanic gale. Leaves floated downward in large, eddying flakes, as if the sky were snowing darkness. I shivered and drew my jacket closer around me.
When I looked back down, a figure stood in the center of the stones. The silhouette, black on black, of a woman from an earlier century, her long hair and gown stirring in the wind. A dry hiss left her lips, and she began to glide toward me.
10
THE BLADE in my hand burned with a cold fire; it seemed to buzz at a pitch so low that I felt rather than heard it, as if it were resonating with some strong source of energy. Backing a few paces, I turned to run, but her arm whipped out and gripped my wrist. I yelped, but only a squeak came out.
“It’s me, Kate,” she whispered. “ Lily. ”
Lily alive, or Lily dreamed and dead? My heart thudding hard in my chest, I slowly turned around.
Her face was pale in the faint light, her wide-set eyes large and dark. What had looked like the gown of a renaissance lady resolved into a coat with a tight bodice and long flaring skirt. Above the coat, her throat was a pale column, unmarked.
“Do you think it’s true?” she asked in a low voice. “Do you think that’s a ritual knife?”
I glanced down at the dagger and then back up. “How much did you overhear?”
“All of it.” She grinned sheepishly. From over at the smithy came a shout. “ Kate! ” It was Lady Nairn.
“Damn,” said Lily. Her grip on my arm tightened. “Please don’t tell her I was here. I’m already entry A-one on her shit list.”
I was staring at her wrist gripping my arm. On it was a small tattoo I hadn’t noticed before. A delicate five-pointed star. A pentacle, the symbol of witches—of Wicca, the neo-pagan religion of witchcraft.
Lady Nairn called again. “Please,” whispered Lily, her eyes pleading. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Fifteen going on twenty-five, Lady Nairn had said of her. In the days following my parents’ death, I’d been very like her. Unpredictable and a little wild. But she was, at heart, a good kid. “Go on, then,” I said with a wave of the hand.
She flashed a wide smile. “Thanks. You’re awesome.” She dashed across the circle, in the direction of Dunsinnan House.
In a bright, evil flare the image of her body, bound and naked on the hilltop, flashed across my mind. “Lily,” I said, stepping after her. At the far edge of the clearing, she looked back. “You’ll be all right?” I asked, feeling suddenly both frightened and foolish.
“No worries. We’re practically in the back garden. Besides, we’re too bloody far out in the sticks for a bogeyman to bother in the first place.” And then she was gone, her passing barely stirring up a rustle amid the deep bracken.
I was turning to head back to the forge when a voice whispered out from the woods at my back. Why did you bring the dagger from that place?
I whirled. “Who’s there?”
Another voice snaked from the right. It must lie there….
And a third voice came
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