Shadows of the Keeper by Karey Brown Page B

that’s good enough fer’ me.  Ye’ can’t expect her ta’
wear blame when she doosna’ even know who she really is.”
    “Allysyn and you would find the
good in Satan.  Good thing, being he’s on his way.  Those were his
minions passing our window last night, and ye’ ken it!”
    Satan?  On his way? 
Had this bitch stolen into Broc’s scotch?  Because she definitely spoke as
one having lost their mind .
    “Did Allysyn also tell ye’ the
woman’s too daft ta’ realize Aunsgar be Elf?  That he’s a prince, once
upon a time, her uncle?  Or ta’ realize our immortals never don the
clothing of moderns?  They look ridiculous in those trews likened to her own. 
Just yesterday, I caught Colin hiding when he heard her stomping towards the
gatehouse, the mohn terrified she’d spy him wi’out the ridiculous shirt he
wears ta’ hide his body art.”  A snort sounded through the door. 
“Like she would even realize she breaks bread with ancient Picts.”
    Emily backed away from the
door.  Picts?  As in Celts, Romans, Saxons—bullshit! 
Immortals?  Like on television?  Great.  Decapitation.  A
real treat.  Perhaps they’ll follow up with boil removals, and
bloodletting leeches.
    “Pratty, yer vicious.  Maeve
has warned yer’ tongue is going ta’ be the end our jobs.  I for one canna
afford ta’ not be employed.”  Angry chopping resumed.
    “Tha’ old witch thinks ta’ fire me,
I’ll sing like the bird she is and tell everyone she can change into falcon. 
She doosna’ want me to send for animal control to confiscate that precious
feline of hers, or herself.”
    O’Shay ?  Now Emily was
livid.  If this Pratty bitch touches one flea on —
    “Hush, Pratty.  What ye’
threaten is ta’ bring moderns through the door.  Ye’ speak evil. 
Ears are everywhere in this castle.  Allysyn said one minute the laird was
in his library, and while she polished the door, when she glanced over her
shoulder, he was gone.  He hadn’t closed the panel all the way. 
There are secret tunnels throughout this castle.”
    “Better hope the Lumynari don’t
figure that out.”
    Lumynari ?  No sooner
had Emily mentally muttered that word than a cold shiver descended.
    “Have ye’ seen the resemblance to
his painting?”  a new voice asked.  Water turned on for a moment,
then off, drowning their words.  A pot clanged and thudded against what
Emily pictured to be the worktable.
    “Might I remind you her image no
longer hangs in his library?  Too terrified Ms. Snoop would nose around
and find it.”
    Bored, wandering aimlessly down a
corridor, Emily had spied several men carrying a cloth-covered painting from
Broc’s sanctuary yesterday.  Then he’d stepped out, and spying her, had
opened the door wide, offering her free reign to all his books.  Who
had the painting been of?  His deceased wife?  Apparently, there was
more male manipulations occurring than I realized.  Broc being kind to me
should have been my first clue.  Bastard intentionally distracted me,
providing a clean getaway for his cohorts. I have to find that painting! 
But first, I need details.  There are hundreds of painting adorning
hundreds of corridors.   ‘Ye can explore, but mi’ library is off
limits, he’d said.  Then, all of the sudden, he throws down the Welcome
mat, and encourages her to come on in.  Have a look around.  Yep. 
Road kill stench.  I’ve been hit and run over by the You’re a Dumb Shit
truck.
    “They found Reager’s body by the
river.  Not a mark on him.”
    Emily leaned closer.
    “But the look of fright on his face
told all.  And those shadows passing by our window last night . . .
they’re here.  Because of that Yank. We’re as good as dead.”
    “Pratty, if you speak of evil
doing’s, you call them upon yer’self.  Chances are Reager was drunk again
and fell.”
    “Really? Huh.  What do you supposed
happened to his tongue? Fell off in the bottle, or bit it off all the