The Selkie Bride Read Online Free

situatedin the middle of the cottage, allowing all four rooms to touch it and theoretically share warmth. The chimney is large, quite adequate to accommodate a man or a small bull. Perhaps that is why it has been fitted with iron bars. Certainly the bars do nothing to keep out the birds that find their way inside whenever it rains, and I could not imagine any other creature that would attempt to gain entrance in this manner.
    The hearth is strange, a sort of mosaic made of shells that might once have been pretty but is now badly damaged, perhaps deliberately defaced. Only enough remains to suggest that the theme was aquatic, perhaps a tribute to that local sea monster that gobbled up virgins and buried the village.
    It was early yet, but I lit one of the lamps. Storms come in fast and can bring about a near-twilight state in a matter of moments. I’ve no love for the smell of burning paraffin, but it is better than shark oil, which many of the locals use in their lamps.
    The cold had not yet crept over the sill and down the chimney, but I decided to light the fire as well and put the soup kettle on to warm. Herman did not object. Being a cat, he was fond of warm places. When possible I burn driftwood, but recently—in spite of the storms—it had become hard to come by. This meant using coal or peat.
    The fisherman’s words once again put me in mind of some of the wilder tales of Fergus Culbin, and I found myself again feeling reluctantly curious about the man I’d never met or even heard of until after his death. I had found no personal artifacts in the cottage beyond clothing that was old but of good quality, andthe solicitor assured me that nothing had been removed from the premises. I was sure that something had to exist, some correspondence or a diary. But where?
    There weren’t that many places where one could conceal a journal or letters. The first that came to mind was the ridiculous desk, an overwrought Louis the Some-teenth that was tucked away in the bedroom, perhaps a family relic from more prosperous times. Duncan once said that his family had gotten evicted from practically every country in Europe, for always being on the wrong side of the endless religious wars. I had been promising myself for weeks that I would take the time to examine it for secret compartments. There were bound to be a few, and the moment was appropriate.
    The walls and ceiling about me were thick and strong, but a glance out the window showed the wind was blowing the rain nearly horizontally, and handfuls of water and sand were occasionally thrown at the narrow panes. The sound was rather like someone scratching at the scarred glass, and I did my best to ignore it while I searched the desk.
    In the end it was Herman who found the hidden compartment for me. I should have perceived that one of the drawers wasn’t as deep as the other, but I didn’t notice the stubby compartment until Herman got in the drawer and began shoving one side of the back wall. Immediately the pane pivoted outward, and I found what I was looking for: a small book, leather bound and worn. A quick glance showed me that the pages were handwritten.
    “Thank you, Herman!” I said, and offered a scratchunder the chin that he accepted gratefully. “Let’s go have a seat by the fire and see what this has to say.”
    Herman meowed plaintively when I stopped petting him, reminding me that it was a good night for a nip of whisky in my tea and perhaps time to share a small bite to eat. They call whisky the water of life here in Scotland, and having withstood a couple of their weeklong storms I understand why. Without some help for the nerves, the weather would be unendurable. As it was, there still were suicides every winter. At home we called it cabin fever. Here they said a man had gone sea-daft.
    After getting some food, I sat down and began to read.

Chapter Two
    Moving onward with eyes shut…I was met by a blast of wind which seemed to work altogether beyond the