Death of an Adept

At the center of the circle, where the two lines crossed, a stunted pillar of dark stone bore traces of more blood along its length. Eight lesser stones made a Faerie ring around the circle's perimeter. Squinting against the reflected glare of the torch, McLeod saw that the dark-stained tops of all the standing stones had been hollowed out, like offertory bowls.

There was no mistaking the ritualistic character of the layout. Equally apparent to McLeod's deeper senses was the chaotic nature of the forces that this place was intended to honor and invoke.

"Don't come in," he called to his companion. "Go and fetch me one of those big bags of salt, and then go upstairs and see what Davies is doing. Try not to let him come down here. I have to do something."

To his relief, Harry gave no argument, receding footsteps telling of his obedience. McLeod moved forward, but soon encountered a field of resistance that set his nerves jangling with sudden inimical dissonance.

Gritting his teeth, he thrust forward the stiffened blade of his hand in a determined push until he felt the field collapse, falling in tatters behind him as he, too, passed into the circle. Here his cautious torch-beam discovered evidence of animal sacrifice in the form of scattered small bones still bearing shreds of fur and feathers - perhaps the source of the blood that had stained the stones. The standing stone at the center of the ring bore a string of runic symbols executed in the same gory medium.

As far as McLeod was concerned, no clearer evidence was needed to forge a connection between the owner of this house and the arch-Druid whose likeness Peregrine had captured at Callanish. But this in turn led to further questions. The atmosphere within the chamber was saturated with unclean resonances, bespeaking years of secretive use. What could have prompted Evans to emerge so suddenly from obscurity two years ago, only to retire again until the present, Callanish incident?

He had the feeling that the answer was hovering elusively just out of reach. Just now, however, he had neither the privacy nor the time to spare for introspection. There were no clues to indicate when or if Evans intended to return here. But Mc-Leod's own duty clearly dictated that this underground sanctuary must be rendered untenable to those shadowy forces it was meant to serve. He had scuffed out the painted circle and was kicking over the outer stones when Harry called to him from the entrance to the place.

"Noel, I've got your salt."

"Thanks," McLeod replied. "Now, go upstairs with Davies. I'll explain later."

Harry gave a nod and disappeared a second time, and McLeod returned to his work, ripping open the bag of salt and murmuring a litany of purification as he scattered the bag's contents around the room by the handful. Within the space of less than a minute, the floor was covered with a glistening carpet of white powder. For good measure, McLeod set one booted foot against the central pillar and pushed. When it toppled over, it made more of a thump than the smaller ones had done, but hopefully Davis would not have heard it.

Breathing a final prayer of exorcism, McLeod headed back for the exit from the place. Adam, no doubt, would know who to send at a later date to finish the demolition work he had started.

In the meantime, however, satisfied that this chapel of shadows could not readily be put to its former use, McLeod quickly made to replace the boards concealing the cavern's entrance before ascending the ladder to the floor above. There he found Harry and his lantern, both perched on the edge of the kitchen table. The counsellor was alone.

"What's happened to Davies?" McLeod asked.

"He's been going through some personal papers he found in a box under Evans's bed," Harry replied. "I told him you were still poking around, and that we'd be up to join him directly."

"That's true enough," McLeod agreed, as they closed the trapdoor and left the pantry. "I don't think we need to say anything about the cellar, do you?''

Harry gave him a sly, conspiratorial glance. "I gather there's nothing down there that would be of any material help to Inspector Davies," he said.

"It could be awkward," McLeod agreed.

"And that's part of your job - to keep awkward questions from being asked." Harry shook his head resignedly. "Well, far be it from me to interfere. I didn't see a thing. But you did say you'd explain later. Maybe on the way home, once we're safely aloft?"

"Maybe," McLeod said noncommittally.

Chapter Twenty-One

"I should have insisted that they let Humphrey drive them into town," Adam said, eyeing the winter sky from a library window at Strathmourne. "It looks like snow. I hate to think of them stalling out on the side of the road somewhere between here and the Forth Road Bridge."