The Selkie Bride by Melanie Jackson Page A

greedy and anxious to keep their nets full of enchanted fish. And so they let the finman remain. Our wizard and I managed tae turn back the terrible storm of sand that the finman had sent tae Avocamor, also called Tir-fo-Thuinn —Land under the Waves—and instead this village was buried…and the finman along with it.
    “We thought that was the end. The others of the tainted tribe were hunted down and banished or killed. But we were wrong tae relax our guard. The most evil of the finmen didnae die, and eventually he was able tae unbury the village and escape. I believe he survived all those years off the souls of those trapped in the church. They were his personal larder while he schemedand eventually discovered the means tae escape his own curse.”
    “And now someone has called this monster back?” My voice was barely a whisper. “But why? That seems like madness.”
    “Aye. And I am at a loss tae know wham it may be. Only twa humans survived the inundation and would have known of the creature. And Fergus Culbin is now dead—at the hands of the finman. Unless they had a falling-out after the summons, I cannae imagine why the finman waud kill him.”
    “And the other survivor?”
    “Died without issue a decade ago.”
    I thought about this. “You know, you are making an assumption that may not be true.”
    A dark brow lifted. “Aye?”
    “We know that only two survivors ended up in Keil, but that doesn’t mean that someone else might not have escaped to somewhere else if they fled overland. If they never mentioned the storm or the finman, no one would have thought anything about a traveler passing through Glen Ard or elsewhere.” Lachlan nodded slowly, and I went on without considering. “I think the trick may be to have a look at the church records and see exactly who was in the village at the time of the storm and then see if any of their off spring have come back. Assuming the offspring are witless enough to use the family name.”
    Lachlan shook his head. “I have ceased tae marvel at how witless some people can be. I shall look on this when I am finished wi’ other inquiries.”
    I doubted his investigation involved any methodswith which I was familiar, but sadly, I had to agree about the general state of human witlessness. Was I not even now being careless with my trust? How could I know if anything Lachlan said was true? For that matter, how did I know that he was even real and not a figment of a disturbed imagination?
    I pulled my chair closer to the hearth, getting as near as I could without setting my shoes on fire. It was a wasted effort. I simply could not get close enough to drive off the new chill in my bones.

Chapter Six
    The wind comes rushing down through the openings between the hills, carrying with it immense torrents of sand with a force and violence almost overpowering. Clouds of dust are raised from the tops of the mounds and are whirled about in the wildest confusion, and fall with the force of hail. Nothing can be seen but sand above, sand below and sand everywhere. You dare not open your eyes but must grope your way about as if blindfolded.
    —John Martin of Elgin, describing the village of Culbin during a 17th-century sandstorm
    Lachlan’s late visit—and promised return by the next full moon—left me disturbed and with my brain seething. I didn’t know if I was more frightened or amazed or exhausted by the constant low-grade panic and lingering disbelief engendered by what I had heard; all three emotions took turns being in ascendance and I found myself pacing the cottage instead of preparing for bed.
    As I walked through the rooms, I discovered thatthere was something bothering me about the second bedroom, some deformity of space that tugged at my eyes every time I entered. I was using it for storage of unneeded house hold items, and it was therefore far from tidy, but every time I walked into the room, it felt smaller to me than the time before. This should not have been