were shut tight?”
Daniel straightened his spine and lifted a haughty nose. “She but came to ask how long before I’d be home, yer lairdships. Not a soul has come up those stairs since the lot of ye went down them, may God strike me dead if they did.”
“All’s right, Daniel. All’s right.” Ewan turned to face his following. “Did he get lost, do ye suppose?”
“The dungeons,” Quinn said. It was the only other place they could be. The cellar twisted a bit, but didn’t go much past the workroom beneath the tomb. Even in the future.
Montgomery led the way. The Muirs brought up the rear, too stubborn to leave off, Quinn supposed. When it was clear that no one had been in the dungeons for a good while, one of the Muirs, Margot he thought, began to wail, which was odd; they never carried on. Oh, they were difficult to best in an argument, but he’d never seen one shed a tear, not in either century.
Montgomery and the rest looked about the dusty hallway, waiting for someone to explain the matter with the woman. Mhairi wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders, then turned a look on Quinn that scared him to the bone.
“What?” he asked. “What is it? What do you know?”
Mhairi shook her head. “He must have found the tunnel. Mayhap there will be footprints, so we’ll ken for sure.”
“What tunnel?” he asked, then turned to Monty. “Is there a tunnel?”
“None that we could ever find.” Monty nodded to Mhairi. “Show us.”
She gave Margot one last pat, then Mhairi took Monty’s torch and started back up the passage. They all followed close on her heels. Margot had recovered enough to keep up. Soon they were passing the broken door of the workroom. Then beyond.
At the end of the tunnel, where the walls had been shored up with odd bits of barrels, beams, and planks, Mhairi reached out a hand and pulled on a metal ring attached to a barrelhead.
Much to his surprise, and apparently to the surprise of all, the barrelhead swung open on silent hinges. A tunnel gaped beyond.
Quinn moved forward, but Mhairi fairly jumped into his path, her arms spread wide. Margot moved around behind her and did the same.
Mhairi shook her head. “Ye cannot enter, Quinn Ross. None of ye can enter here. The tunnel is cursed. We’ve only showed it to ye so ye can see if Percy took Juliet this way.”
Quinn tried to push around her, but she blocked him again.
“Mhairi, I care not for faery tales, or ghosties. I’m going in. Look there.” He pointed to the dirt floor beneath the hole. Their footprints, clear as day. Juliet is draggin’ her feet, smart lass. Now let me pass.”
Mhairi shook her head again. Margot moved closer behind her sister, as if she truly believed that together they could stop him.
“The tunnel taketh and giveth,” said Margot, over her sister’s shoulder. “As Percy and Juliet travel beneath the hillock, the tunnel is taking from them. It takes all.”
Quinn froze at the last, not because he was afraid to enter, but afraid of what the cursed tunnel was doing to his brave Juliet.
Monty had hold of another torch and held it high, peering at the sisters as if he thought they might not be real. The firelight reflected off twin streams of tears—one running down Mhairi’s right cheek, the other running down the left cheek of her sister.
Muirs did not cry.
Quinn swallowed the bile rising in his throat and turned to Monty. “Do ye understand a word of this?”
Monty shook his head and looked behind him, to Jillian. His wife hurried forward and slipped beneath his arm.
“Mhairi,” she said. “Please. Help us understand. What is the tunnel taking?”
The woman nodded, her graying hair swung forward and back. But she looked for a nod from her sister before she answered.
“Age.”
The word hung in the air.
Jillian frowned, as did they all. “Age? Do you mean that the tunnel will make them younger?”
Mhairi sighed, then nodded.
Margot came around her sister’s shoulder and together they dropped their arms.
“Takes the years, dries the tears,” they chanted in unison. “Quiets laughter, lulls the fears.”
Tears poured a fresh trail down Mhairi’s right cheek. Her sister tried to console her while keeping a steady eye on Quinn.
“They’ll lose ten years by the time they reach the other side,” she said. “But it takes the memories of those ten years as well. Young Percy will be younger still. He won’t remember his purpose, so