LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Past - Greystone Castle
Early morning light slivered around the edges of the tapestry hanging askew over the window into the room. The heavy material ruffled lightly in the cool morning breeze.
Sitting up, I pushed my hair from my face and looked down at Gavin. His eyes were shut but his lips were parted slightly in sleep.
I watched the rise and fall of his chest with each breath he took to reassure myself he was indeed breathing.
“Good morning, my love,” I said softly, and lightly stroked my fingers over his brow to smooth the crease that had gathered there.
“I wish you would wake up.”
Still, there was no response.
Not that I thought there would be…but I still hoped that one day I would wake up to find him looking at me, instead of the other way around.
Rousing myself, I stretched and stifled a yawn.
The tapestry made a snapping sound in the breeze, bringing with it a bout of nostalgia from home when I was younger. The sound reminded me of when my Gran’s would hang sheets out to dry on the line in the morning.
Letting out a sigh, I pulled the furs back and climbed from bed. There were chores that needed to be done here as well. There was fresh water that needed to be fetched, more wood to collect; also, I would eventually need to set the kitchen to rights so I could start making some kind of food when the men returned.
Unfortunately, I had no idea how long they had been gone at this point. Each day seemed to blur into the next. It may have been a week or more and if not for Elvis, I would have felt …
“Oh No!” I suddenly remembered Elvis and the creepy noises from the previous night and the mysterious appearance of that retched dagger. I also knew that I had put in the trunk. So how did it end up on the floor?
Now, in the light of the day, I knew I was not imagining it. Just to make sure, I went to check behind the stone. The hideous dagger was still there.
Somewhat relieved by this, I put the stone back in place and as another precaution; I grabbed a stick from the pile of wood to use if I had need of a weapon. Granted, the dagger probably would better serve as a weapon than the stick, but I was genuinely freaked out by the dagger. It seemed evil somehow and was not something I wanted with me, at least not now.
Walking to the door, I looked over my shoulder back to the bed. “I’ll be right back,” I told Gavin’s still form.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, I lifted the bolt. The door made a waning groan as I eased it open and looked out into the hall.
Elvis wasn’t on the floor outside the door like he normally would be and my heart deflated. As I stepped out into the hall, my worry for the dog increased. If something happened to him, I would never forgive myself.
“He’s probably just sleeping.” Even as I reassured myself, I couldn’t help the niggling little voice in my mind telling me that something was not right.
Holding tightly to the stick, I descended the stairs to the great hall. The room did not have windows, so it was pretty dim even during the day. That was one of the reasons I kept the door open most days and to also air the place out.
Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dimness.
“Elvis,” I called and added a two-fingered whistle, which usually brought the dog bounding from wherever he was. But this time, Elvis didn’t come and the worry I had been feeling increased even more.
“Oh, Elvis…” I cried out, about to break down into a fit of tears.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, came the familiar sound of nails biting into stone as they rushed forward from down the hall. “Elvis!” I ran forward, hoping I wasn’t hearing things.
The dog skidded to a halt out in the middle of the room. His coat wet, and his teeth barred.
Simultaneously, a wave of relief washed over me with a good dose of fear.
“Elvis,” I said his name with more conviction.
The dog growled and got into a defensive stance.
I took a reflexive step back.
“Hey—HEY, buddy,” I said calmly, trying to keep the quivering edge from my voice.
Elvis whimpered suddenly and dropped to the ground.
He lay there twitching.
My heart lurched in my chest. “Oh, Elvis…” I cried. “What happened to you?”
I took a step forward and then another.
Elvis lurched haphazardly to his feet and began growling once more. This time he wasn’t looking at me though, he was looking down the hall at something that I couldn’t see from my vantage point.
“Who’s there?” I called out harshly. “I have a weapon.”
Elvis swung his head around and faced me again, barring his teeth once more.
I didn’t know whether to try to approach him or run back up the stairs. It almost seemed as if the dog was warning me to stay away, but from what, or who?
Fighting back another wave of dread, I took another step forward, trying to get a better position to see down the hall. As soon as I moved, a sharp noise split the air and continued getting louder. It sounded like a heavy piece of metal being dragged against stone. “What the…?”
The dog let out an ungodly sounding howl in agony or anger, I couldn’t tell which.
Stupidly, I leaned forward to look around the corner.
There was a person covered from head to toe in a long flowing cloak that was headed my way. That in itself wouldn’t have been that bad, but the person was dragging an axe. Sparks of orange and red flew out from the sides as the metal scraped against the stone.
Fear ripped through my body.
I grabbed hold of my skirts and ran back to the stairs.
“Elvis, come on,” I yelled out over my shoulder, taking the steps two at a time as I raced back towards the modicum safety of the room I shared with Gavin.