Death of an Adept

"You had better be prepared to satisfy his bloodlust. It is his nature to violate his victims before he eats them."

"Then we shall find him a subject fit for his pleasure," Raeburn retorted. "But understand that I shall expect his full cooperation in return, or you will find yourself once again relegated to the Void, never again to reincarnate."

"I should kill you now," Soulis muttered, "and eat your soul!"

Raeburn drew himself up defiantly, again pointing with the dagger. "I advise you not to make threats you cannot carry out. This is the one and only time I intend to make this offer. Do we have a bargain, or shall I abandon you to your fate?"

A shudder racked Taliere's lifeless corpse from head to foot, but the white head lifted boldly.

"I have told you Redcap's price for this favor; I have not yet named my own."

"Is your freedom not enough?"

"It is not. I shall require physical form, else freedom means little."

"Then I shall provide a second oblation for your own delectation," Raeburn said softly. "Do we have a bargain?"

"We have a bargain," Soulis grated.

Raeburn's lips framed a thin smile. "Excellent. We shall meet again when I have made all the necessary arrangements. I promise you," he added, "that it will not be long."

Chapter Seventeen

ADAM woke with a start in the twilight hours before the dawn of the new year, the previous night's sense of well-being shattered by a potent and troubling dream that fled as soon as he opened his eyes.

It was far too early to rise - perhaps as early as seven, by the light - but the Frasers' Hogmanay party had still been in full swing at two, when Philippa finally had pleaded jet lag for Adam and his newly declared fiancee and begun trying to engineer their escape. Three o'clock had come and gone by the time the three of them crept home, the patient Humphrey at the wheel of the Range Rover, and the clock in the downstairs hall had just begun striking four as all of them retired to their respective beds.

Now Ximena lay curled at Adam's side, her dark hair spilling like silk on the pillow, looking happy but still exhausted; he would not think of disturbing her much-needed rest.

But the dream that had shattered his own sleep continued to haunt him, even as he tried to recapture some of its sense - more a residual of foreboding than anything specific, but he seemed to recall snatches of imagery featuring standing stones, and smoke writhing among the stones like tentacles.

Moving carefully to avoid waking Ximena, he rolled over and stole a glance at the clock on the bedside table. The discovery that it was barely six o'clock made him groan inwardly. He lay awake for a while, pondering the possible significance of the dream, but when no ready explanations presented themselves, he did his best to push his speculations out of mind, at least for the time being, and willed himself back to sleep.

Even when he woke again, however, the emotional impact of the dream remained curiously memorable in contrast to the vagueness of its imagery - so much so that he found himself unable to dismiss the experience out of hand. Over a solitary brunch of bacon, eggs, and tattie scones in the breakfast room - for Ximena and Philippa were still abed - he went searching through the newspapers for some clue that might shed light on the mystery. Finding nothing there, he reached behind him for the phone and tapped out McLeod's number.

The inspector was on duty at police headquarters, having volunteered for holiday duty so that some of the junior officers in his division could take the time off to be with their families.

"Adam! Welcome back - and congratulations."

"Thanks very much. Listen, Noel, I've got a question for you," Adam said, when the two men had exchanged New Year's greetings. "Did anything unusual happen last night?"

McLeod gave a snort of derisive laughter. "Do you want the whole catalogue of events, or just my personal favorites?"

Adam found himself smiling, for New Year's Eve in Scotland was probably the most riotous holiday on the calendar.

"Actually," he said, "I was thinking in terms of historic landmarks. Were there any incidents having to do with any of the national monuments hereabouts?"

"Well," McLeod offered, "some lads on leave from the naval base at Rosyth got themselves arrested for trying to hang a life-sized blowup model of Madonna from the chimney of John Knox's house."

At any other time, Adam might have been amused by what was obviously nothing more than a high-spirited prank.

"Actually, I had in mind something of a more serious nature," he told McLeod. "Not necessarily in this jurisdiction."

"Ah. I gather that Philippa's briefed you about Callanish."

"She did. I've no notion that this is necessarily related."

"Well. I'm not aware of anything," McLeod said, after a taut pause. "Give me a minute, though, and I'll run a check for incidents elsewhere."

"Thanks. I'll hold on."

McLeod was gone only briefly. "No, there's nothing on the books. Anything I should know about?"