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A hammering on the door made us jump. We exchanged a terrified glance.

“It’s all right,” said Mrs. Ferguson, but her voice shook. “Banshees don’t knock.”

“You wait here,” I said. “I’ll get it.”

I walked slowly down the hall. I reached for the door knob. Banshees don’t knock. I clenched my fist. If this was a banshee I was going to punch its face. That might not save Mrs. Ferguson, but it would make me feel a whole lot better. I opened the door.

It was Dr. Williamson. He wasn’t as tall as me but he was straight-backed and dignified. His glasses were fashionable and the blue eyes behind them were sharply intelligent. Before I could say a word, he had crossed the threshold and made his way deeper into the house.

“Is she all right?” he asked me.

“Perfectly fine,” I said.

I watched Dr. Williamson stride into the living room. He knelt beside Mrs. Ferguson’s chair and hugged her tight. Then he pressed his lips against hers.

She opened her eyes wide in surprise. Then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed back. Passionately.

Go Mrs. Ferguson!

Making no attempt to hide my grin, I retreated down the hall and let myself out. I was still grinning when I crept in the back door of Mac’s. The pub was still open but Douglas had left Bess behind the bar while he got something from the kitchen.

“I guess you heard the banshee,” I said.

“So did everyone in Mac’s.”

“How’re the MacDuffs taking it?

“Anne’s coping. Stuart’s drinking.”

Suppressing a sigh, I tried to rub some feeling back into my freezing hands.

“I think I’ll go up to my room,” I said.

“What have you got planned?”

“A good night’s sleep.”

“No, really,” he persisted, “what have you got planned?”

“I just told you. Staying up all night isn’t going to change a thing. Someone will die. It might be Stuart or Mrs. Ferguson or Dr. Williamson. Or you. Or me. My staying up all night won’t change a thing.”

He didn’t argue. We exchanged good-nights and I went up to my room.

I stripped off my clothes and put on my granny nightie, but when I climbed into bed I couldn’t sleep. I knew I had to do something. But what? The only thing I could think of was to warn Harq the selkies would be in danger if—no, make that when—I found Justina’s skin. Hoping he would be spending the night with Scarlett, I leapt out of bed and got dressed. Then I headed at top speed to Beag Glen.

Chapter Nineteen

Scarlett’s home was in darkness. I rapped loudly on the door. There was no answer so I tried again. This time I heard movement inside.

When Scarlett opened the door, I asked, “Is Harq with you?”

“Why?” She glanced anxiously up and down the street as though she suspected I’d brought a CNN crew with me.

“I have to speak to him.”

“Why?”

“The selkies are in danger.”

She let me in.

I waited in the sitting room while she got Harq. He appeared, wearing a bathrobe. His feet were bare.

I don’t like small talk, and this was one occasion where it was unnecessary. Without preamble, I said, “Eark’s skin has been moved. I promise you I’ll keep looking, but it’s going to take time.”

Harq gave a stoic nod. “I understand.”

Scarlett looked at me suspiciously. “You came here in the middle of the night to tell us that?”

“No, there’s more. Sir Alastair knows I’m looking for the skin. If I find it, he’s threatened to poison the loch.”

Scarlett gasped and let fly a stream of obscenities. I waited until her anger was spent before I spoke to Harq.

“I think it would be best if the selkies left the loch. Not forever,” I said quickly, mindful of Scarlett’s feelings, “just until Sir Alastair…” I trailed off. Until he what? Got tired of Justina? He would poison the loch long before that happened. It would be years before the selkies could safely return.

Harq murmured, “I will tell my people.”

“You’ve got to do more than tell them,” I said. “You’ve got to make them leave the loch.”

“My people have lived here for a long time. The humans did wrong. Why should we leave?”

“I know it isn’t fair,” I said, “but if you want your people to survive, it’s the only way.”

Harq said, “We won’t