“That throw was brilliant,” Jestine says to me at one point, maybe trying to make peace, and I make some kind of affirmative noise in my throat, not ready to really talk to her yet. I think she could have fallen back asleep, but feels too guilty to let herself, seeing how shaken up Carmel is. As soon as there is enough light, we start getting ourselves together.
“We’ve already paid,” Jestine says, shoving her pajamas into her pack. “I suppose we could just leave the keys at the bar and head out.”
“You’re sure we’ll make it to the Order by tonight?” Carmel asks, peering out at the expanse of mist and trees. There’s a whole lot of darkness and nothing else out there, and it looks like it might go on forever.
“That’s the plan,” Jestine replies, and we shoulder our backpacks.
We go down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. But I suppose that’s not necessary, considering the ruckus we made at three in the morning. I expected all the lights to come on and for the innkeeper to bang down the door and rush in holding a baseball bat. Except they don’t play baseball in this country. So maybe they would have been holding a cricket bat, or just a big stick, I don’t know.
At the bottom of the steps, I turn and hold my hand out for both sets of keys. I’ll just leave them near the cash register.
“I hope nothing got broken last night.”
The voice is so unexpected that Thomas slips down the last few stairs and Carmel and Jestine have to catch him. It’s the owner of the inn, a stout, dark-gray-haired woman in a chambray shirt. She’s behind the bar, staring at us while she dries glasses with a white towel.
I go to the bar and hold the keys out. “No,” I say. “Nothing got broken. I’m sorry if we woke you. Our friend had a nightmare and everyone sort of overreacted.”
“Overreacted,” she says, and cocks her brow. When she takes the keys, she grabs them, practically snatches them out of my hand. Her voice is a low, rough grumble; she’s got a thick brogue, and the toothpick sticking out of one corner of her mouth doesn’t make it any easier to understand. “I ought to charge you another night’s stay,” she says. “For the extra efforts we’ll be taking from now on.”
“Extra efforts?” I ask.
“Every Scottish inn needs a haunting,” she says, putting down one glass and starting on another. “A story for the tourists. A few roaming footsteps in empty hallways at night.” She levels her eyes at me. “I expect I’ll have to be finding a way to do it myself, from now on.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I mean it. My teeth grit at the urge to turn and glare at Jestine, but it wouldn’t do any good. She’d just blink back innocently, not seeing anything wrong. I don’t like the idea of following her through unfamiliar country. Not when she’s clever enough to trick me into breaking my own rules.
* * *
“What the hell was that about?” Thomas asks once we’re outside. “How did the innkeeper know?”
Nobody answers. I have no idea. This place is strange. People look at you in one slow wink, and they have a link to magic, like they’re all Merlin’s second cousins once removed. The owner of the inn was an ordinary woman, but talking to her felt like talking to a hobbit. Now, outside, even the chill in the air feels off, and the dark lines of the trees seem too dark. But there isn’t anything to do but follow Jestine, and she takes us down the roughly paved road, where we fill our water bottles in a fountain and then turn off, onto a pebble and gravel path through the woods.
Once we’re moving and the sun comes up higher, finally visible through the peaks of the trees, things seem better. The hiking isn’t hard, just a well-groomed trail and a few rolling hills. People pass us in small groups, on their way back to the Loch and beyond. They all look cheerful, weathered, and normal, outfitted in REI and khaki caps. Birds and small mammals skitter through the underbrush and branches, and Jestine points out a few of the more colorful ones. By the time we stop for a lunch of prepacked fruit and cereal bars, even Carmel’s color has gone back to normal.
“Another few hours on this trail, and then we should leave the path and head through the forest.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We should be on the trail for half a day, and then we should see the mark,” Jestine replies.
“What’s the mark?”
She shrugs, and the rest of us exchange a look. Carmel asks whether she means the Order, but I know she doesn’t. She doesn’t know what the mark is.