Sophie swore under her breath. “They pulled you.”
“Aye.” Zara’s hand dug into the fur at the back of Mitch’s neck where he’d put his head on her lap. “It wasn’t an accident. Something wanted me down there. Close. I could… talk to them better.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “They’re angry.”
“Lovely.” Orla shuddered. “Just what we need.”
Zara nodded slowly. “And there was something else under them. I thought it was just the loch itself, at first. Then it started to move.”
A low murmur rippled around the table.
“The dragon,” Willow said.
Everyone went quiet again.
The image of that massive, scaled head rearing from the water flickered behind my eyes. I clenched my jaw. The memory was bound to haunt my dreams.
“Aye,” Zara whispered. “I didn’t see it the way you lot did, not with my eyes. But I felt it. Its…mind.” She swallowed. “Old. Furious. Bound. By something.”
Archie looked like someone had punched him. Hilda turned to him, a dismayed expression on her face.
“What was that thing?” Willow asked from near the far end of the table, eyes huge. “Please tell me someone knows.”
All eyes turned, almost as one, to Agnes.
She stiffened. “What?” she demanded, clutching Calvin, Willow’s cat, tightly against her chest.
“You’re the folklore expert,” Shona said gently. “If anyone would know…”
Agnes chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment, gaze slightly unfocused, as she thought about it.
“If we’re going with traditional mythology,” she said finally. “It’s not like a Nessie derivative. What we saw tonight…”—she exhaled—“I’d say, in all honesty? Was probably a Beithir.”
The word seemed to suck some of the warmth out of the room.
Sophie straightened. Archie swore under his breath. Hilda closed her eyes briefly, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.
Liora glanced at me, eyes wide. I had no idea what a Beithir was, but the reaction alone was enough to make my skin crawl.
“A what now?” Finlay asked, echoing my thoughts.
“A Beithir,” Agnes repeated, voice steadier now, slipping into lecture rhythm. “They’re one of the great serpents of Scottish lore. Sometimes called lightning serpents. They’re … not dragons in the fire-breathing, winged sense. More like colossal, venomous water-and-storm creatures. Born when lightning strikes the earth and doesn’t release properly.”
Willow blinked. “So it’s a weather glitch with fangs.”
“An incredibly dangerous weather glitch with fangs,” Agnes corrected. “The old tales say they’re the largest and most deadly of all Scottish serpents. They rarely appear, and when they do, it’s usually an omen of …well, nothing good. Catastrophic storms. Great battles. Floods. That sort of thing.”
My stomach dropped. “Grand.”
“They aren’t meant to be real,” Archie said quietly. “That’s just folklore.”
“They aren’t,” Agnes agreed. “But then there are a lot of things in Loren Brae that aren’t meant to be real.” Agnes gestured to where two gnomes were making out in the corner.
“Gnorman!” Shona hissed, slapping a hand to her forehead. “Get your hands off Gnora. Now isnotthe time.”
Despite everything, I had to bite back a laugh as the wee gnome turned and glared at the interruption.
“Och, lass. It’s those near-death experiences. They just get the blood surging, don’t they?” The wee gnome shocked me by growling back at her.
“Take it outside then,” Shona said, rolling her eyes. Gnora giggled and sauntered off and Gnorman took chase, the two gnomes racing from the restaurant while giggling.