Chapter Twelve

The Caverns, Deirdre’s Chamber

The image of McGloury’s cottage, with Tasha and McGloury entering, was projected on a round, polished stone by a camera obscura. The device, carved at the arched top of the chamber, was another hideous face, but this one was different than the tortured faces on the dolmens above. Hewn from the granite was a horned demon with a mouth of sharpened teeth distorted into an exaggerated death-smile. One of its eyes was a glittering red crystal, while the other eye projected the image in a beam of white light. The ragged ceiling that arched to this massive central face was filled with other carved visages. These did resemble the tormented sculptures with their silent screams from above, but they were turned away from the demon face as if too terrified to contemplate it. Though this terrible place no longer haunts me, it is still vividly engraved upon my mind.

The chamber was small and dimly lit by oil lamps, and the furnishings were simple save for an ornate four-poster bed and an elaborate harp. Deirdre, her face mask-like and inscrutable, watched as on the polished stone was projected the image of Tasha and McGloury entering the cottage and closing the door. Deirdre was still dressed in the banshee “shrouds” that Tasha had seen indistinctly in the ruins. The priestess pulled a lever, the light was blocked from above, and the image went dark.

“Lady Dorrington will be a brilliant opponent; you’ll be earning every quid.” She was speaking to a man, sitting in the shadows cleaning a large revolver. A table was covered with charts, maps, a decanter, crystal glasses, and a mortar and pestle. “Are you prepared?” she asked.

The silhouette answered by snapping the revolver shut.

“Then enjoy,” said Deirdre brightly.