Last Wish (Highland Magic #4)(43)

Byron was either incredibly brilliant or incredibly na?ve; until I thought about his plan some more, I had no idea which. For now, however, I’d do whatever I could to help him. ‘Then,’ I said softly, ‘let’s get a move on.’





Chapter Ten


As we tiptoed out of the door and headed down a long, dark corridor, Byron insisted on holding of my hand. It was a bit weird and if I thought about it too much I’d probably have been annoyed but it was also oddly reassuring. To be fair, if I’d thought he’d died I might have not wanted to let go of him either. I kept my mouth shut and let him lead me past old portraits of frowning Moncrieffe Clan Chieftains until we reached a set of stairs down to the ground floor.

‘His study is that door at the bottom on the right,’ Byron whispered. ‘He keeps it locked when he’s not here and no one ever goes inside. I think I’ve only been in on six or seven occasions in my entire life.’

I couldn’t help being reminded of the Bull and his own special snowflake version. These old men with their secrets. I shook my head. Idiots.

We waited for a moment or two. When Byron was confident that everyone in the castle was either asleep or elsewhere, we padded down to the door. I reached up to my hair for the tiny lock pick I’d concealed there but Byron was prepared. As I watched, open-mouthed, he pulled his own version from his pocket, knelt down and got to work.

‘You have been busy,’ I murmured.

‘I’ve not been twiddling my thumbs for the last few months, Integrity,’ he sniped, obviously still not completely over the news of my resurrection.

It took him more time than it would have taken me but he managed to get the door open. Go, Byron. With a swift glance at me, he nodded and we entered. In comparison to the Bull’s study, this place was far neater. Other than old books on the shelves, there was little on display. The room possessed a certain shabby chic which, had I not known what Aifric was like, might have made me admire him.

Carefully closing the door behind me, I looked at Byron. ‘Do you know where he’s likely to keep the most incriminating documents?’ I asked.

‘One of my earliest memories is when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘I must have escaped from the nursery and come here to find my father.’ His expression soured. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry as when he realised I’d sneaked in.’

My heart went out to him. Since he’d discovered the truth about Aifric, he’d probably spent hours – days even – poring over their relationship and everything that had occurred between them. He’d have wanted to know if he could have accepted the truth earlier, or if there had been any clues that his own flesh and blood was a murdering maniac. I’d spent most of my life believing the same of my father and, although the circumstances were very different, I wasn’t insensitive to how Byron probably felt.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘from what I remember, there were renovations going on. There wasn’t anyone present apart from my father but the place was a mess. There were brushes and tools … it was like he’d been building something. I never thought much of it before but now I’m not so sure. What if he built somewhere to hide the things that no one else should see? Some kind of secret compartment or room?’ He gazed at me in mute appeal; he needed me to agree with him even if Aifric really had just been redecorating.

I considered Byron’s words and stepped back to get the best vantage point. The study was a perfect oblong and there were no signs of anything out of place. I had to trust his instincts, however. He watched me carefully. ‘Do you see anything?’

‘Not at this minute,’ I said truthfully. ‘Despite the age of most of the buildings in the Highlands, you’d be surprised at how few secret rooms there are. Even the ones that do exist are usually easy to find.’

Byron pointed behind himself. ‘I’ve not just been practising the art of lock picking,’ he told me. ‘I’ve also been scouting things here. The library is on the other side of this wall and a store cupboard in the opposite direction. The dimensions of the library are wrong. It’s cleverly concealed because of the shelving but, if there is a secret room here, it’s behind this wall.’

There was an easy way to find out. I edged from one side to the other, thumping the wall at strategic points. Thud. Thud. Thud. Dup. I grinned. Dup. Dup. Thud. ‘It looks like plaster but there’s definitely something behind here. It’s hollow. We need to find a way in.’

Byron’s eyes flashed in grim delight as if he were not sure whether to be pleased or dismayed that his suspicions were proving correct. He nodded decisively. ‘Step back,’ he said.

I did as he asked, thinking that maybe I was blocking his line of vision. As soon as I was out the way, he flicked his wrist and a little fireball coalesced in front of him.

I scratched my head. ‘Er…’

The fireball grew in size, hissing and crackling. Within the confines of the small study, the heat was immense and I was forced to turn my head. With one intense glare, Byron sent the fireball smack into the hollow part of the wall. The plaster crumbled almost immediately; it wasn’t just the fire but the force of the fireball that did considerable damage.

Dark billowing smoke filled the space. Coughing, I darted to the window and yanked it open. ‘If anyone is outside…’ I began.