Chapter 30

I'D HOPED TRSIEL'S ARRIVAL MEANT HE HAD A NEW A NEW LEAD for us to follow, but he was only checking up on me. After escorting me back to the Borden residence, he returned to Amanda Sullivan's cell. I spent the next ten hours at the Bordens', rehashing what I knew and trying to find a fresh direction. I kept hoping Kristof would pop by, but he didn't.

In the eleventh hour, an angel appeared.

It was just Trsiel, but by that point, it seemed like divine intervention nonetheless. A sparkling conversationalist Lizzie Borden was not.

"Got a lead," he said.

"Oh, thank God," I said, leaping to my feet. "When can we go? Now? Please?"

He laughed, took hold of my hand, and teleported me away.

Seems Sullivan finally had a vision of the Nix. She was still in spirit form, but on the move. Through Sullivan's dreams, Trsiel had pinpointed her last stopover: here. Wherever "here" was.

We were tramping across a dark meadow. A wispy fog had settled, a wet lace that smelled of heather and something not nearly so pleasant.

I wrinkled my nose. "Wet dog?"

As I said the words, a hairy red-brown lump appeared in my path. I stumbled back with an oath. The lump turned and fixed me with big bovine eyes. Then it shook its head, long curved horns flashing.

"What the hell is that?" I said. "A yak?"

"Highland cattle, I believe."

"Highland… We're in Scotland?"

"Near Dundee."

"And the Nix was here? Doing what? Cattle-herding?"

"No, visiting that."

He pointed to a forest. Seemed a strange place to visit, but before I made a fool of myself by asking, I narrowed my eyes and concentrated on sharpening my night vision. After a moment, I could see a building soaring above the treetops. Spires ringed the huge, flat roof.

"Looks like a castle," I said.

"Glamis Castle."

"Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be What thou art promised. Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness."

One of the cows mooed appreciatively. Trsiel arched his brows.

"What?" I said. "You recognize Bogart and Bacall but not the Immortal Bard?"

A shrug and a half-smile. "I've always been more of a cinematic angel. Shakespeare told some great stories, but I could never get past the boys in drag playing Juliet. As for the quote, judging by the locale, I'm guessing Macbeth."

"Bingo. My one and only high school drama starring role: Lady Macbeth. I was a natural."

Trsiel started to laugh.

I turned on him, finger raised. "Don't say it."

Trsiel grinned. "I don't need to."

I started forward again, still staring at those majestic spires, black against the blue-gray night. "So this is that Glamis?"

"This is the Glamis Castle that Shakespeare wrote about, though it had nothing to do with the historical Macbeth."

We walked through a barbed-wire fence and onto a path.

"What's the Nix doing here?"

"I'm not sure," Trsiel said. "I saw the images through Amanda Sullivan, and I recognized the castle, but the only connection I can make is that it's reputed to be the most haunted in Scotland."

"Oooh, a haunted castle. I've always wanted to visit one of those. What's the story?"

He smiled. "Which one?"

"The best one. The bone-chilling-est one."

"Well, the best one, I'm afraid, doesn't involve a ghost at all, but a living, breathing monster. As for ghosts-"

"No, tell me the monster one."

He glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Oh, come on," I said. "Unless you can teleport us over to the castle, we have another mile to walk. I've spent ten hours sitting with Lizzie Borden. Entertain me. Please."

He smiled. "All right, then. But I warn you, storytelling is definitely not an area of angel expertise. So, how to start… hmmm."

"Once upon a time?"

He shot me a look. "Even I can do better than that. Let's see…" He cleared his throat. "No castle would be a proper castle without a secret room or two. Glamis being a castle among castles, has three. There's the one where Earl Beardie spends eternity playing cards with the Devil. And there's the one where a Lord Glamis walled up a band of Ogilvies. But the best, and most… bone-chilling-est, is the one that contains the cursed Glamis monster."

"Oooh, I love a good curse."

"You want to tell the story?"

I grinned. "Sorry. Please continue."

"Well, legend has it that the Glamis family is cursed, as all the best families are. That curse was born, quite literally, in the form of a child. The first son born to the eleventh earl, a child so deformed, so hideous that every wet nurse brought to his crib took one look and the milk dried up in her breast."

"Really?"

"No, but the story's a bit short, and we still have a half-mile to go. I'm livening it up. Now shush."

"Sorry."

"The worst of it, though, was that the family was doomed to care for this child, not only through his lifetime, but for eternity because he was immortal. So they locked him up in a secret room, and it became the duty of each succeeding generation to care for him, and to keep him a secret from all, even those they loved. However, the bonds of matrimony permit no room for secrets, and one enterprising young Lady Glamis grew weary of hearing these rumors and not knowing the truth behind them. One night, while her husband was away, she held a dinner party, and conveyed an ingenious plan to her guests. They would take towels and hang them from each window of the castle. They did. Then they went outside and circled the castle, looking for the window with no towel, for this would be the secret room. And there it was, high up on the third floor. A tiny window… with no towel. So Lady Glamis rushed into the castle, up the stairs, down the hall, and threw open the door of the room nearest the secret one. Then she knocked along the wall, listening for the hollow spot where a hidden door might be. She knocked once, took a step, knocked again, took a step, knocked a third time… and something within knocked back."

Trsiel stepped onto the winding drive, and kept walking.

"Then what?" I said finally.

"Well, that's it. According to legend, before she could investigate further, her husband came home, found out what she'd done, and gave her hell. Soon after that, she left him."

"I don't blame her. But it's still a lousy ending."

"You want me to do better?"

"Please."

He gave a deep sigh. "The things I'm asked to do on this mission. Okay, better ending coming up. So… something within knocked back. Then, at a noise behind her, Lady Glamis turned to see her husband there. In his hand was a rusted metal key. He grabbed her, but before she could cry out for help, the secret door sprang open. A horrible moan came from within. Lady Glamis screamed then, screamed as loud as she could, but Lord Glamis shoved her through the door, slammed it shut, and locked her inside-locked forever with the monster, there to serve him for all eternity."

I lifted a brow. "Serve him how?"

He looked at me, then sputtered a laugh. "Not like that! This is a G-rated ghost story, woman. Don't be messing with it."

"A G-rated story? About taking some deformed baby and locking him up? And if it was true, and this poor guy had been locked up in there for decades, and someone threw in a perfectly good woman, what the hell do you think he'd do with her? Play Parcheesi?"

"You've corrupted my story."

"Believe me, it was corrupted long before I got hold of it."