Loch Nessa (Damned Girl Book 4)

by Clare Kauter

  "Yes, of course," said Hecate. "Henry, you escort Nessa back to her room. It might be best if you stayed there for the night, just in case either the redcaps or Ed try something. Daisy and I will search the grounds."

  Henry nodded.

  "Be careful," I said. "Those vampires could still be out there."

  "We've already eaten raw cloves of garlic as a precaution," Daisy assured me. "Don't worry about us."

  "So," I said when Henry and I arrived back in my room.

  "So," said Henry.

  "You just alibied me," I said. "Lied to the police."

  He inhaled deeply. "I guess I did."

  "Why?"

  "I don't really know. Not sure that you deserved it."

  We were silent for a moment, and I felt compelled to reassure Henry that I wasn't totally evil.

  "I haven't used the Doomstone for anything bad, Henry," I said. "I've only ever used it to get out of dangerous situations."

  "By killing people?"

  "Not always," I said. "Only Dick. And a demon, I guess, but he doesn't really count."

  He appeared to think about that for a moment. "You never answered my question about what's going on with you and Ed," he said finally.

  "I don't know what you mean," I said.

  "Are you friends?"

  I snorted. "Hardly. How could anyone be friends with him?"

  He seemed satisfied with that answer. Relief flooded through me. If he'd pushed any further, I would have been forced to admit that not only did I still see Ed from time to time, but I'd already seen him that evening.

  "We should talk about the case," I said. "See if we can come up with any theories."

  "Sure," said Henry. "Although I don't know how. We haven't really come across any clues yet."

  "We have suspects."

  He frowned. "We do?"

  "Of course! We're in their castle right now."

  "Really? Fach and Gladys?" He shook his head in disbelief.

  "What?"

  "This is a Department approved safe lodging for overseas magical travellers."

  I crossed my arms. "Oh, because The Department is always so right about people?"

  He sighed. "Fine. What's your theory?"

  I shrugged. "I don't really have a theory, but I certainly don't trust Gladys," I said. "I saw her face change when she talked about Alora. What if Gladys is responsible for whatever happened to Alora? We should check the dungeons for her body."

  Henry looked shocked. "You can't be serious," he said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Gladys is a lovely woman," said Henry.

  "What is she?"

  "A lovely woman," Henry repeated, frowning. "Did you not hear me?"

  "Yes, I heard you. I meant what kind of creature is she?"

  "Human," he replied.

  I shook my head. "No, she's not."

  "She is."

  "She isn't."

  Henry folded his arms. "You only met her tonight and you think you know her better than me? I've been working here for two months now and –"

  "And you haven't noticed her hooves?" I said. "The way her face changes when she gets angry? Her aura of dark magic?"

  He frowned. "What are you talking about?"

  "Are you messing with me, Henry?" I asked. "Is this your way of getting back at me for what I did to you?"

  He shook his head. "I'm not messing with you. I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "That's not good," I said. "Do you know what Daisy and Hecate think of Gladys?"

  He shrugged. "They like her. Everyone likes her."

  "Even despite her outbursts?"

  "What are you talking about?" he asked.

  "Are you serious?" Noticing Henry's blank face, I realised that he really didn't remember. "Oh my god. She's clouded you."

  "She has not clouded me," said Henry. "I don't know what you're doing, but if you think that convincing me that someone else has clouded me as well is somehow going to make you look better then you are sorely mistaken."

  "I'm serious, Henry."

  He rolled his eyes. "She's not even magical. Check her files. This place is a registered safe house for magicals who need protection when traveling to the loch. I don't know what you're trying to imply, but –"

  "What does her husband look like to you?" I asked.

  Henry paused, sighed and then finally answered. "Disgusting," he said. "But that's no reason not to trust him."

  "And what does his magic look like?"

  "Dark."

  "OK," I said, chewing my lip as I thought. "So you can see him properly, but not her. Why? Why would she bother clouding herself and not her husband? They both have the same kind of magic. It doesn't make any sense."

  "Nothing you're saying makes any sense."

  "And why would she bother clouding it from you and the others, but not from me?" I thought for a moment, remembering back to the time when I'd stood over Ed's grave and realised there was something concealed inside it. I'd been able to detect a clouding spell back then, and that was before I had the Doomstone or key. Maybe they'd amplified my powers. "Maybe the clouding just didn't work on me."

  "What clouding?" Henry asked.

  "She's magical," I said. "I can feel her energy, and I can feel a dark energy over the whole forest around here."

  Henry scoffed. "You really think I wouldn't notice that?"

  "Henry, I'm telling you, you've been clouded."

  He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated.

  "How did the clouding spells break before?" I asked.

  "Oh, I see."

  "What?" I was confused.

  "You've made up this whole elaborate story to try and figure out how the clouding spells broke so you can make sure it doesn't happen again. Well, I'm sorry, but –"

  "Henry, you didn't feel Pierre coming tonight, did you?"

  He frowned. "What are you –"

  "Pierre, the vampire. Remember when we were in the North Pole? We saw him twice – once when we were at the inn and once in the forest. Then when Dick kidnapped me –"

  "Yes, thank you," said Henry. "I recognised him."

  "He pulls in all the energy around him," I said. "He creates a void."

  "I know."

  "But tonight I didn't feel him approach, and I'm pretty sure you didn't either."

  Henry paused, thinking. "What are you saying?"

  "I didn't feel it because of all the dark energy emanating from the forest," I said. "It's like sensory overload for me. I think the reason you didn't feel it is because the dark magic from the forest is clouded, just like Gladys's magic is clouded."

  Henry appeared to think about that for a moment. "But like you said, why cloud Gladys and not Fach?"

  I shrugged. "You can tell from one look at him that he's a creature of the dark. Clouding that would arouse suspicion."

  He nodded slowly. "That makes sense. But why cloud anything in the first place?"

  "What if something dodgy is going on around here?" I suggested. "Something they don't want The Department – or whatever the local magical law bureaucrats call themselves – finding out about?"

  He nodded slowly. "I suppose that's plausible."

  "And what if Alora found out about it and that got her killed?"

  Henry bit his lip, thinking. "It's possible. I don't know if it's likely, but it's possible."

  CHAPTER 15

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up in bed with my arms around Henry. He was still asleep and I extracted myself carefully so he wouldn't wake up and realise that I'd been hugging him. It wasn't my fault – he'd been in dog form. Of course I'd wanted to cuddle him. Still, I didn't need him to know that.

  After breakfast in the dining chamber, it was time to head to Loch Ness. I took my bag with me, not trusting our hosts enough to leave my stuff behind in the castle. I wasn't exactly what you'd call an experienced diver, so I was assuming we would be using magic to explore the depths of the lake rather than wetsuits and
oxygen tanks. Henry would be fine – he could just transform into any sort of lake-dwelling creature that he liked. I wondered how exactly the rest of us were going to manage to breathe underwater.

  We followed a path through the forest to the water's edge. The bank was muddy and covered in rounded stones, smooth from the years of water lapping away at them. I picked my way to the edge, wobbling a little as the stones moved under me (an athlete I was not, and balance was definitely not one of my top strengths).

  "So," I said, when we were all standing at the water's edge, "what's the plan?"

  "We brewed a potion last night," said Daisy. "It will allow us to travel to the bottom of the lake."

  I narrowed my eyes. That seemed like a very unspecific answer to me. "I don't suppose you could give me any more details?"

  Daisy smiled and shrugged. "I'd rather not tell you until you've already drunk it."

  "Why?" I asked, although I suspected I knew the answer. If I knew what it was, I wouldn't drink it.

  "Is it dangerous?" Henry asked, looking concerned. I was surprised that the others hadn't told him what they'd made.

  "Not at all," Hecate replied. "It worked for Alora, so it will work for us."

  "You don't know that it worked for Alora," I pointed out. "You haven't heard from her since she departed from the castle and came down here to see the dragon."

  Hecate and Daisy glanced at each other.

  "I'm sure it's fine," said Hecate. Daisy reached into her bag and handed me a vial. The liquid inside was bright blue, almost turquoise. Very appetising. I wracked my brain, trying to figure out what the liquid could be, all the while wondering if I really wanted to know. I trusted Daisy – at least I trusted her potion-making ability. She and Hecate were about to drink the same stuff, so I was pretty sure she wasn't trying to poison me. Maybe I was better off not knowing what was coming. I had a feeling it was going to hurt.

  After stripping down to just my T-shirt and jeans, I stood on the bank shivering, still hoping that I was somehow going to be able to get out of this. I decided to leave my shoes on, because going barefoot made me feel too vulnerable. Henry went into the water first, bounding in as a wolf and then disappearing under the surface as he transformed into something else. Daisy and Hecate followed him, wading out a distance before turning to see where I was.

  I considered turning back and just leaving the others to it, but the thought of returning to that castle gave me the heebie-jeebies, and I had no desire to hang out in the woods alone. Plus I was pretty sure that if I backed out now Hecate would use it as an excuse to not give me my licence so she could keep me on her leash for a little longer. Nope, I had to do this. No matter how much it seemed like the worst idea ever.

  Scrunching my eyes shut, I stepped into the water, ready for the cold to stab me like a thousand tiny knives. What I felt instead was more like the kind of cold when you move from a sunny place into the shade on a cool day. Not exactly fun, but bearable. I opened my eyes, pleasantly surprised. This wasn't so –

  Then the water soaked through my shoe.

  'Stabbed by a thousand tiny knives' doesn't begin to cover it. I let out a string of curses so inventive that I was both horrified by and proud of myself. All I wanted at that moment was to get out of the water. Maybe Ed was right and it was time to embrace my shadow side. No one would be able to tell me what to do then. I could order minions to do it for me. This was a ridiculous request of a royal like me. Why was I doing this? Why didn't I just become a super villain instead and live out my days in relative comfort?

  Because you're not evil, said a voice in my head.

  Shut up, voice, I replied, but I sighed. It was right. The one time in my life when being evil actually appealed to me and I couldn't even embrace it. Maybe later in the day that would bring me comfort, but at this moment I was just annoyed. I took another step into the water and sucked in a breath as the cold hit me again, then hobbled over to meet the others. My limbs had seized up from the cold and I walked like a zombie, unable to bend – I felt like I was frozen solid. Already I was barely able to breathe just from the temperature, and I wasn't looking forward to seeing how I performed at the bottom of the lake.

  I waded out until I was boob-deep in the loch, vial in hand.

  "OK," said Daisy. "This is about to get a whole lot less pleasant."

  "That's possible?" I wheezed.

  "Afraid so," she replied, unstoppering her vial. Hecate and I followed suit.

  "Bottoms up," I said, and all at once we downed our potions like they were shots. For a moment everything seemed fine, and then everything stopped seeming fine. The first thing to disappear was my vision. The world around me seemed to melt as the potion took hold of my body, the scenery dripping away like a painting in the rain.

  The next thing to go was my skin. At least it felt that way. It was like I'd been sprayed all over with acid and my body was beginning to disintegrate. Fortunately (ha) I didn't dwell on that because a moment after the skin thing happened, my insides began to boil. I could feel them bubbling like a cauldron over a roaring flame and if I'd had any energy I'd have been screaming in pain.

  At some point in all this my knees had buckled and I knew I must be underwater by now, but I didn't have time to worry about that. Now I just needed to get rid of the pain... the burning... the...

  My heart stopped.

  Actually and literally.

  Daisy had killed me.

  To be fair, she'd also killed herself and Hecate, but that definitely seemed like the kind of thing you should get someone's permission to do before going ahead and murdering them. (Yes, I know that sounds a little hypocritical coming from me. Shush.)

  Now I knew why the others hadn't wanted to tell me – or Henry – what the potion was. Eudora's Curse was very illegal – for a very good reason. The draught went by many names, but often it was called Zombie Juice. I'd prefer to roll with 'Eudora's Curse' from here on, though, if you don't mind, because there's just something really disturbing to me about saying I drank Zombie Juice.

  I couldn't believe Daisy had been brewing up a batch of Dora – and that Hecate had been OK with it. The Hellfire Shire Police Pepartment was a mess. The Green Wattle Coven was rife with illegal magical activity. First necromancy and now this, the exact opposite of necromancy. Daisy had given us a potion that killed us. Only temporarily, but still.

  It made sense, I suppose – although in hindsight I would have preferred regular diving gear. I was going to be having nightmares about that experience for the rest of my life. How had Daisy and Hecate managed to compel themselves to drink the stuff knowing what it was? Everyone knew that Dora caused just about the worst pain you could inflict on a person. Dying wasn't often pleasant, but temporary death was especially gruesome.

  Still, now that I was dead I wasn't going to need to breathe, so we could explore the lake freely. At least for the next hour or so. I decided to risk opening my eyes, hoping my vision had returned. At first I thought my eyesight had been affected by the potion, but then I realised that the visibility down here just wasn't that great. The lake wasn't a nice blue colour like I'd been expecting – it was a dirty brown, like tea, and I could see that the further in we swam, the darker it would grow. It was going to be tricky to stick together in the depths when we couldn't really see each other.

  There was some movement from my left and when I turned and saw what it was, I screamed. Trouble was, the murky lake water flooded my mouth before I could so much as get a squeak out. Floating in front of me, slimy, brown and seven feet long, was a giant eel. Was this the monster? I froze in terror, wondering if the monster was going to kill me. Was that even possible? I wasn't sure how Dora worked – could I die when I was already dead?

  The eel just shook its head at me, and that was when I realised it was Henry.

  Oh. Right.

  I spat the dirty water out of my mouth, grateful that my dead tastebuds hadn't been able to register the flavour of the microbe-laden loch. To my righ
t, Daisy and Hecate appeared. Now that we had no air in our lungs, we didn't float, so we were able to simply walk along the loch's floor. Henry swam along beside us, slithering through the water like a sea serpent. The further we went, the more glad I was at the absence of my heartbeat. It would have been racing furiously right about now, and my veins would have been flooded with adrenalin. As it was, I just felt... not quite cold. Just sort of neutral. Like a reptile would, I guess.

  Eudora's Curse had been banned since just about the moment it was discovered, and the instructions to make it had been destroyed as soon as the authorities had heard about it. Somehow a copy of the recipe had survived, and while the government had attempted to keep a lid on it, knowledge of the potion's existence still managed to somehow disseminate to society at large. Everyone knew about Dora. What not everyone knew was how to make it.

  A select few members of the seedier parts of the magical underworld possessed the knowledge to make a vat of Dora. For the right price, you could buy a spoonful, but it was definitely an 'at your own risk' kind of deal. It was notoriously tricky to brew and more than once a patron had died an excruciating – and permanent – death at the hands of a bad barrel. Still, plenty of people risked it. The potential was too great to resist.

  You may be asking yourself why people were so hot to get their hands on a spoonful of death. If that's the case, then you have no imagination. There were many reasons you would use it, but there was definitely a most popular purpose: it's the best way to fake your own death. You have no heartbeat, and by all conventional tests you appear to be dead – because you are. No one questions whether you're alive or not, even people who know Dora exists, because everyone assumes that no one is crazy enough to take it. Seriously, who'd put themselves through that? And who'd risk it going wrong?

  Well, apparently my witchy sisters were crazy enough. Great. Yet more evidence that I was blood bound to a cult.

  But why would they go this far? Were we trying to convince the Loch Ness monster we were dead? I doubted it. Why had Daisy and Hecate thought this was the best way to get to the dragon? Sometimes magicals didn't like using non-magical means, even when they were more practical. Still, I could think of a hundred spells that would have been more pleasant (not to mention less risky) than downing a shot of Dora. Why would Daisy go to the trouble of making this when we could have, say, cast a bubble around ourselves and floated about like a magical submarine? Not only would we not have had to go through the skin-meltingly painful experience of dying by Dora, but then we also would have been able to talk to each other. Instead we were walking along the bottom of the loch, three silent corpses and an eel looking for a dragon. Just your average Tuesday.