Spirit of McEwen Keep

Conan’s mouth dropped open as his mind raced.

“Ye want me ta kill someone just ta get a night’s sleep?”

She began to protest when he held up his hand to silence her. “Do nae get me wrong, lass. I did nae say I would nae do it. I would probably kill me own maither right now if it meant I could sleep,” he muttered the last part under his breath.

“I did nae ask ye ta kill anyone! What I have in mind is more devious than that. I want this man ta die a thousand deaths!” She rubbed her hands together with glee as she saw Conan waiver.

“Then go and haunt him! He will pray for death once ye are through with him...I ken that I have!”

Her laughter quavered through the air.

“Forgive me, me laird, but it has ta be ye that accomplishes the task I ask of ye...nae other.”

His head snapped up as he eyed her suspiciously.

“Why me?”

“That is for me ta ken.”

Conan mulled over what she had told him thus far, and could find nothing objectionable about her proposal. He grunted to himself.

“So ye want me ta torture some man for...how long?”

“Did I say ‘torture’? Nay, ye will nae torture him in the literal sense.”

Frustrated, he snarled, “If nae ‘torture’...then what must I do?”

Why was this spirit haunting Conan McEwen? And how can he make her stop? Whatever her reasons…she was making his life a living hell! He was prepared to do anything to make her go away…even commit murder!