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  ‘Are you sure she was telling you the truth?’ Magnus joined in with Rhona’s concern.

  Now McNab’s yes sounded slightly hesitant. ‘They weren’t close friends, not like Shannon and Leila.’

  ‘So she couldn’t be linked to them other than through the library?’ Magnus said.

  ‘No,’ McNab said in a manner which indicated he no longer wished to discuss the woman in question, which immediately raised suspicions in Rhona’s mind.

  Was this the female Chrissy had been seeking?

  ‘I’d like to talk to Freya Devine,’ Magnus said. ‘Is that possible?’

  By the set of McNab’s jaw, he was now regretting ever mentioning her name.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Magnus looked as though he might pursue this, but catching Rhona’s warning glance, wisely decided not to.

  26

  Rhona had never visited the Vaults before, although she knew about them.

  The series of chambers, up to 120, had been formed by the building of the nineteen arches of the South Bridge during the 1700s. Originally used to house taverns and tradesmen and as stores for illicit goods, they’d eventually become home to the poor of Edinburgh.

  After they too had moved out in the 1800s, the caverns had been filled with the detritus of those who lived or worked above ground.

  Now, they were a popular location for ghost tours and in this case a coven meeting.

  The owner of this section of the Vaults warned them as he threw open the gates that the ground was uneven.

  ‘Some of the caverns have power but the passage is unlit, so watch your step.’

  McNab had had the sense to bring a torch, as had Rhona, but even then the going was tricky, the stone floor rising and falling intermittently.

  The owner gave them a running commentary as they walked, which included a complaint about a band that had taken to practising in one of the caverns without paying for the privilege.

  ‘The coven, on the other hand, are excellent tenants, although they haven’t met for a while due to the warlock being in hospital with gallstones.’

  There was a pregnant silence before McNab ventured, ‘I take it there are no spells to prevent gallstones.’

  ‘It seems not.’

  They made one stop before their destination, orchestrated by Magnus who asked why an empty cavern had a ring of large stones set out on the floor.

  ‘The coven say the room had an evil presence which they’re trying to contain within the stones,’ the owner told them. ‘They advise that no one steps within the circle.’

  Rhona heard a muttered ‘Fuck’s sake’ from McNab, thankfully at low level.

  A few yards further on, they stopped outside a metal grille with a gate, through which they could see a room. Candlelit, with an altar, the floor had a painting of a five-pointed star and was surrounded by nine low stools with red cushions.

  At first it seemed there was no one in there, until a figure in a long black embroidered robe stepped into view.

  ‘Derek,’ said the owner, ‘I’ve brought your visitors.’

  The man who came towards them was middle-aged, stout and balding. He unlocked the gate and, swinging it wide, invited them to enter. His voice was deep and melodious, reminding Rhona of a Church of Scotland minister.

  McNab showed his ID and introduced Rhona as Dr MacLeod and Magnus as Professor Pirie. Derek gave his surname as White and welcomed them.

  ‘The others should arrive shortly. Would you prefer we wait?’

  ‘We can start without them,’ McNab said.

  ‘Of course.’

  Magnus had already wandered away, apparently intent on examining the room and its artefacts. Rhona stayed close to McNab, interested in how the interchange would develop.

  ‘I understand you had three visitors at your last meeting?’ McNab began.

  ‘Yes. As I said on the phone. Three young women.’

  ‘Were they together?’

  ‘Two were. The other came alone. She was a post-grad student at Glasgow who got in touch with me about her thesis on Witchcraft.’

  ‘And the other two?’

  ‘They were on a night out in Edinburgh and asked to drop by.’

  ‘Were they known to anyone in your circle?’

  ‘Not that I am aware of.’

  ‘Then how did they get in touch?’

  ‘There’s a shop in Glasgow on the High Street. They contacted me through the owners.’

  By now people were filtering in, glancing with interest at the visitors as they donned gowns and made ready for whatever was in store. They all looked perfectly normal. Most were middle-aged, although there was a younger man among their ranks who came over as soon as he spotted McNab.

  ‘DS McNab? I’m Joe, Ollie’s mate from uni.’

  They shook hands.

  ‘Great job on the Stonewarrior case. Ollie told me all about it, or at least what he was permitted to tell,’ he added cautiously.

  ‘We’ll have to start the ceremony soon,’ Derek interrupted. ‘So, if you’d like to talk to the others?’

  Being surrounded by a group of people dressed in star and moon embroidered gowns wasn’t in McNab’s comfort zone, but he did the job admirably, giving out just enough information and getting a good response. Many hadn’t picked up on the death of Leila Hardy, or hadn’t linked any mention of the murder to their recent visitors. At the news of the second death, a babble of noise erupted.

  McNab held up his hand for silence.

  ‘The murder of Shannon so soon after Leila suggests that their deaths may be linked. Of course, that link may not be because of their involvement with Wicca, but the nature of both crime scenes suggests that it might.’

  McNab then gave brief details of the room of dolls and of the cingulum, which caused a lot of consternation. Rhona had been studying the reactions of the group while McNab talked. All were distressed, but one man, in particular, had looked increasingly uneasy. By the sheen on his skin he was sweating, although the vaults were cool, verging on cold. On one occasion he had darted a look towards Rhona and swiftly away again when he realized she was watching him. After that he’d made a point of not catching her eye.

  When McNab began talking about the men they believed Leila had performed sex magick with, the man had swiftly made an exit. Rhona followed to find him in the passageway leaning against the wall.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m a little claustrophobic,’ he explained. ‘The room is small and with the extra people . . .’ He tailed off.

  ‘It wasn’t a pleasant story to listen to,’ Rhona said.

  ‘No. It wasn’t.’

  ‘Did you meet the women when they visited?’

  He nodded. ‘They were young and enthusiastic.’

  ‘And now they’re dead.’

  He looked sick at that.

  ‘Is there anything you know that might help find who killed them?’

  He was struggling with himself. Rhona wasn’t sure if his story of claustrophobia was true, or whether he, like most people, merely struggled with the horror of murder. She, McNab and even Magnus forgot that the world they inhabited was something unimaginable to people living ordinary lives, even if, like the man before her, they practised Witchcraft.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘I am upset, but more because I may have been a party to what happened to those young women.’

  When they’d emerged from underground Edinburgh, McNab had quickly located the nearest pub, where they were now seated in a quiet corner. The man, whose name was Maurice, had a large brandy in front of him, half of which he’d already consumed. Minus his robe, he looked more like a bank manager than a warlock. A frightened one.

  ‘When she asked my advice, I reminded her of the creed,’ he said.

  ‘An’ it harm none, do what thou wilt,’ Magnus quoted.

  Maurice looked swiftly at him. ‘Yes. There was no harm intended, she assured me of that.’

&
nbsp; ‘Then what was intended?’ McNab said sharply.

  ‘The men wanted something important to their future prosperity, she said.’

  ‘They all wanted the same thing?’

  Maurice shook his head as if trying to remember. ‘They were in it in some way together, so it was binding on them, I think.’

  ‘So you advised her to keep a record?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To blackmail them?’

  He looked shocked by that. ‘No. Sexual magick is made powerful by the life force. Men’s seed is that force. More powerful than a name.’

  ‘To know a person’s name is to have a hold over them. For to know the name is to be able to conjure with it,’ McNab said, with a glance at Magnus. ‘Did she say how many men were involved?’

  ‘No, she didn’t.’

  ‘Did you suggest she sketch them?’ Rhona asked.

  ‘I suggested a drawing would serve in place of a clay model.’ He drank the remainder of his brandy, his hand shaking as he raised the glass to his mouth.

  ‘Who was party to this discussion?’ McNab said.

  ‘Only Leila. She asked to speak with me alone after the ceremony.’

  ‘The other two weren’t involved?’

  ‘The one called Freya left first. The other two stayed until the end. That’s when Leila spoke to me.’

  ‘Why you?’ McNab said.

  ‘She’d read a pamphlet I’d written about sexual magick.’

  Rhona suspected he was telling the truth. Magnus’s expression suggested he did too. McNab, ever the detective, worked on the assumption that everyone was lying until proved otherwise.

  ‘Would you be willing to give a DNA sample?’ Rhona said. ‘To prove you weren’t one of the group?’

  Maurice looked surprised by the request, then relieved.

  ‘Of course. Can I give it now?’

  ‘If Detective Sergeant McNab is okay with that, we can do it now.’

  McNab nodded and stood up, masking the general view while Rhona swiftly donned gloves, took a mouth swab, slipped it in a container and put it in her bag.

  Now that he had seemingly proved his innocence, Maurice relaxed, going so far as to offer to buy them a drink. McNab said thanks, but no thanks. They had to get back to Glasgow.

  They left him there at the bar buying himself another. Confession and forensic science had seemingly restored him to his former innocent self.

  The journey home was memorable mostly for its silence. What had happened had given them all food for thought. Rhona was glad she’d come with the two men, but wasn’t sure her presence had achieved much, apart from one DNA sample.

  Magnus, whatever his thoughts, had chosen not to share them. McNab was keyed up. Rhona could tell that by the nerve that beat in his cheek, but he too remained silent.

  On entering Glasgow, McNab headed for Rhona’s place first. She’d hoped to talk to him in private about Freya Devine, but that wasn’t to be.

  As the car drove off, Rhona had the distinct impression that McNab was determined on a private conversation, but not with her.

  27

  McNab waited until he’d dropped Magnus before calling Freya. Almost midnight, he decided to only let it ring three times. If she didn’t answer, he would assume she was asleep and wait until the morning to get in touch with her.

  Freya answered on the second ring.

  ‘You’re still up?’ he said.

  ‘I’m a Witch, remember? I’m contemplating the full moon.’

  She sounded pleased to hear from him, at least McNab let himself think so.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said.

  ‘In the car, heading home.’

  ‘Come here instead.’

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she said, ‘It’s late, I know.’

  ‘I don’t care about the time.’

  ‘Then you’ll come?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She told him the address.

  ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

  McNab did a great deal of thinking in those ten minutes. Mainly around the question: What the hell am I doing? Regardless of how he might try and persuade himself otherwise, Freya was part of the investigation and he was pursuing a relationship with her. Not professional and not wise. But what worried him more was the concerned reaction of Rhona and Magnus to Freya’s existence. True, Maurice had confirmed that the three women hadn’t come together to the coven, which meant Freya had told McNab the truth about that. But. And this was the big but. The three women were connected by Wicca, and whatever he might think of that, it might place Freya in danger.

  Which is why I need to watch over her.

  It was a good line to feed himself, he thought, as he pressed her buzzer. She answered immediately and freed the door. She was waiting for him on the first landing. There was a moment’s hesitation as neither of them knew quite how to greet one another.

  Freya settled for a smile and ushered him inside.

  McNab followed her through to an open-plan room with a sitting area and kitchen combined. A large bay window gave a distant view of the university towers.

  ‘Coffee?’ she said.

  McNab answered in the affirmative, although he would have preferred alcohol.

  She was dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and he thought she looked beautiful. While they waited for the coffee, he told her he’d been at the coven meeting in the Vaults.

  She registered this with surprise. ‘Tonight?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s where I was coming from when I called you.’

  Her open look suggested she wasn’t worried about what he’d discovered there, because she’d told him the truth about her visit. McNab was so used to people lying to him, or at the very least avoiding the truth, he found her honesty disconcerting.

  ‘Was it helpful?’ she finally said.

  ‘It was.’ McNab took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Do you know anything about a pamphlet on sexual magick?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘I’ve seen incunables on sexual magick.’

  ‘What’s an incunable?’

  She smiled at his confusion. ‘A book or pamphlet printed in Europe, before the year 1501.’

  ‘This pamphlet is more recent. Written by a man called Maurice Wade. A member of the Edinburgh coven.’

  She shook her head. ‘I haven’t seen it. Is it important?’

  ‘That’s why Leila was there, to speak to him about it.’

  She looked thoughtful at that. ‘So what I said was true? She was performing sex magick?’

  ‘According to Maurice, yes, she was.’

  ‘And you think that’s why she died?’

  McNab was suddenly weary of it all. He didn’t want to talk about violent death with this woman. He wanted to be here for a different reason.

  As though reading his mind, Freya said, ‘Shall we go to bed?’

  McNab hadn’t been invited into a woman’s bedroom for what felt like forever. His sexual encounters, even with Rhona, had not been at her place. Iona had turned up at his unkempt, unpleasant-smelling flat and seemingly hadn’t cared. But then, if you’re high on drugs and drink, who does?

  McNab was stone cold sober now, and he cared.

  This time she led him through to the bedroom.

  The scent of her was here in abundance, encompassing him, heightening his senses. He had the buzz, but it wasn’t from drink.

  She chose to undress him first. Her gentle moves excited him more than any mad tearing off of clothes. Standing before her was a revelation. He had never felt so naked before, physically or emotionally. The feeling both frightened him and flooded him with pleasure.

  Undressing Freya, he was seized by an overwhelming need to protect her.

  No one will frighten or hurt you while I’m here.

  McNab imagined he only thought the words, but realized by her reaction that he must have said them out loud.

  She touched his cheek and it felt like fire.

  When h
e woke she was beside him. That in itself filled McNab with wonder. If he was honest, most of his couplings involved himself or the woman leaving in the middle of the night. In truth, he often preferred it that way. No awkward morning silences. No uncomfortable goodbyes. No lies about calling them.

  Freya was still asleep, her expression content, her breathing quietly even.

  He took time to study her in detail, feeling wonder that someone so lovely would invite him into her bed. Perhaps sensing his attention, she opened her eyes.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said.

  She smiled and drew him to her.

  He stayed to breakfast, which was another first. Minus a hangover, loved up and verging on happy, McNab felt like a stranger to himself. The more cynical side of him muttered an occasional internal It won’t last, which he did his best to ignore.

  Freya pottered about, brewing fresh coffee, toasting bagels and spreading them with honey. Watching her eat one, her tongue licking the honey from her lips, was an erotic experience. McNab realized if he didn’t leave soon, he was unlikely to leave at all.

  He stood up.

  ‘You have to go to work,’ she said, sounding sorry.

  ‘Don’t you?’

  She nodded. ‘I have a thesis to research and write.’

  ‘On Witchcraft.’

  She smiled. ‘Does that worry you?’

  ‘I spend my days chasing killers. Does that worry you?’

  A shadow crossed her face, making him want to take back the words. They had said nothing of the case from the moment she’d led him to her bed. He wanted to keep it that way.

  ‘Can I phone you later?’ McNab said.

  ‘Yes, Michael.’

  McNab was unused to being called by his first name, but found he liked it. When Freya said it, he forgot for a moment that he was Detective Sergeant McNab. The feeling didn’t last long. He was barely out of the building when his phone rang.

  ‘Dr MacLeod. This is an early call.’

  ‘Can you come by the lab?’

  ‘Not if you intend interrogating me,’ he said, keeping his voice light.

  ‘There’s something you should know.’

  ‘Okay,’ McNab said, noting her serious tone. ‘I’m on my way.’