Page 8 of Master Wolf

Edinburgh

6thAugust 1820

Darling M,

Thank you for your letter. I miss you too, every day.

It’s horribly dismal here. I swear it’s been raining since June with no respite. I miss the sun, M, I do. Last winter was long and cold and I was not myself. (There, I admit it. I know there is no point hiding it from you, since Wynne reports to you on how I fare—feign to deny it!).

As Wynne has probably already told you, I have not been entirely well these last few months. Do not worry. If there is one thing I can honestly assure you of it is this: I am on the right path. I truly believe that I am on my way to changing my life for the better.

I am becoming free.

Every day, I am freer, and if that means I have to give up a little of my physical comfort in return, I am more than willing to do that.

It’s strange, isn’t it, how stupid one can be about oneself? Perhaps I’m particularly obtuse, though. It’s taken me all this long life to discover that the most important thing—the thing I really can’t live without—is my freedom. All these years I’ve been running away from Duncan. Staying out of his path at all costs. All to be safe, when the truth is, the moment I ran, I made myself a fugitive. A slave to my own desire for safety.

I’ve realised there is only one way to be truly free, and it is to live without fear. Now that I care nothing for safety, I am, finally, safe.

Isn’t that glorious?

Oh, my dear. I wish you could you see me. I am sitting at my desk, smiling even as I grimace. I know you will be worried when you read this, but you must trust me to know my own mind on this.

Anyway, enough of me. I am not merely writing to bare my soul to you, but because I have news.

Do you remember that first time I returned to Edinburgh—back in ’88? It was the year I met Drew—Christ, that seems like an eternity ago. Difficult to imagine that there was ever a time I did not know my own mate, my own heart.”

Drew closed his eyes. That Lindsay could write such words, even now, after all these years and everything that had happened…

He opened his eyes and forced himself to continue reading.

But I digress.

That was also the year I met Hector Cruikshank, from whom we obtained those witchfinder records you spent the next few years studying so intently. You will, I am sure, recall that matters between Cruikshank and me did not end well. In short, Francis and I were left with a considerable mess to clear up.

I am not sure whether we ever discussed exactly how we dealt with that mess, however, some of it was disposed of in the Nor’loch, by St. Cuthbert’s Church and, well… nothing stays hidden forever, does it?

I’m afraid our mess has returned.

These last few months, workmen have been draining the final stretch of the Nor’loch, next to St. Cuthbert’s Church. They’ve been finding all sorts of things in the mud. Just last month, three adult skeletons nailed inside a barrel—a brother and his two sisters, executed by drowning for incestuous acts, according to the newspapers.

The latest finding is something even more sensational: the bones of a misshapen monster wrapped in a decaying carpet. A skeleton with the body of an elderly man and the skull of a malformed dog. The newspapers have dubbed it “the Beast o’ the Nor’loch” and several individuals have come forward to express interest in acquiring the remains.

I could be wrong, but I anticipate you will not wish these remains to fall into the wrong hands and will thus wish to acquire them for yourself. If I could deal with this for you, I would do so but regrettably, I cannot. I have been here for some time now and am well established in society here. It would excite much curiosity and comment if I were to seek to acquire these bones. However, I will do whatever I can to assist whoever you send. For what it is worth, the Council appears to be eager to sell the Beast to the highest bidder.

I will wait to hear from you, dearest, and until I do so, will continue to curse the endless rain and otherwise remain your devoted servant in all things,

With all my love,

Lindsay

Drew staredat the paper for a few moments after he finished reading, then he looked up, meeting Marguerite’s eyes.

“I take it you wish to acquire the skeleton,” he said.

“Indeed. And I would like your assistance.”

“Why?” Drew asked. “Does it really matter if someone else gets it?”