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“That’s the property line between your family’s land and the Greer land. It goes on for miles, dividing it right down the middle. My family ownedallof Greerloch once upon a time, but over the last few centuries, it’s been broken up into smaller parcels. This spot here, though…this is where everything began.”

“In a graveyard,” I clarify.

“In a manner of speaking,” he answers thoughtfully. “It’s the first parcel your family bought after mine was cursed.”

I turn my head toward the opposite way, hearing Lachlan moving behind me as I close the short distance between myself and a cluster of graves. The tombstones vary between small, stumpy little curves that barely rise from the grass all the way to towering monuments that are as tall as I am—and sure enough, upon closer inspection, I notice the nameMacKayetched into the whole lot of them.

My eyes come to rest before one in particular that is just a few inches taller than me, drawn by the realistic carving that feels almosttooreal, given that the stone is weather-beaten and decorated with moss. A wide, rectangular base comes all the way to my chest before sprouting into the thick neck of a horse. There’s an old, brittle leather strap around the horse’s neck, curling around and up to its face as if you could actually grab it and urge the horse to move. A quick glance at the front reveals faded marks in the stone, the name so old you can barely make it out. If I didn’tknowthese were MacKay graves, I wouldn’t even know the last name, but the first name is illegible. Thomas? Travis? Something with a T. Maybe—

“This way,” Lachlan calls, interrupting me from my side quest.

He walks away from me toward the fence line, pressing his foot down on the barbed wire and holding another piece up so I can squeeze between them. He follows me through it, moving past me for a few more yards before coming to a stop in front of a massive grave adorned with a statue of a Celtic cross. His last name is etched into the stone, and I watch as he kneels in front of it, brushing away a pile of leaves.

“This was my ancestor,” he tells me. “Some great-grandfather to the umpteenth degree back at the end of the thirteenth century.”

“Was he…?”

“Like me? Aye. The first.”

Lachlan’s elbows rest on his knees as he remains crouched, and I sneak a peek at the furrow in his brow, watching the light breeze blow his dark honey locks around his temples. His plush mouth is pressed together in thought, and I have to tear my eyes away from the picture he paints—brooding Scotsman is not what I’m here for today.

“I come here a lot to think,” he admits.

I make a face. “That’s kind of creepy.”

He doesn’t answer, still staring at the ruined tombstone. He opens his mouth to speak again, and his voice comes out in a low whisper when he says:

“O Thou, of face so fair an’ name so high,

With heart as black as the darkest sky

Thy cursed deeds yield cursed prize

An’ prayers nor pleas will spare thy fate

In moonlight change till the sun doth rise

Yer flesh shall bear yer soul’s foul weight.”

He lets the words marinate in the air for a moment, and I sense there’s something important about them, but I don’t really know what. I’ve never been one for poetry.

“That’s…pretty?”

He shakes his head, scowling up at me. “It’s a curse. It’sthecurse. The one placed on my ancestor almost eight hundred years ago. Andeveryson born into my family is cursed to become a monster from sundown to sunrise.Everysingle one.”

“But…” My mouth opens and closes as my mind reels, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “For eight hundred years? Really?What in the hell did your ancestordo? I mean, to be cursed, you usually have to do something bad, right?”

Lachlan’s jaw tics, his eyes narrowing. “He didn’t do anything besides put his faith in the wrong person.”

“Really?” My nose wrinkles. “But the poem said, ‘Thy cursed deeds yield cursed prize,’ ” I point out. “Doesn’t that mean he did something?”

“I can’t make sense of the words of a witch,” he scoffs, rising to his full height. “My ancestor gave refuge to a kelpie, and in the end, this is what it got him.”

“A kelpie?”

“Aye. Fae creatures from the auld ages. They were said to appear as beautiful maidens when they weren’t in their horse forms.”

“Horseforms?”