He looked at me, then sputtered a laugh. “Not like that! This is a G-rated ghost story, woman. Don’t be messing with it.”

“A G-rated story? About taking some deformed baby and locking him up? And if it was true, and this poor guy had been locked up in there for decades, and someone threw in a perfectly good woman, what the hell do you think he’d do with her? Play Parcheesi?”

“You’ve corrupted my story.”

“Believe me, it was corrupted long before I got hold of it.”

As we rounded the corner, I looked up and stopped. Looming above us, embraced by threads of fog, was Glamis Castle.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “You know, when I hear stories like that, about hidden rooms, I always think they’re obviously bullshit. How can you have a room and not know about it? But with a place like this…? I bet you could have a dozen of them.” I looked the castle over again. “It’s supposed to be haunted? Doesn’t surprise me. Hell, I wouldn’t mind hanging out here for a while. Is there a dungeon?”

“No, just a crypt.”

“That’ll do. But I don’t see the Nix as the sightseeing type. She’s after something here, but there’s a hell of a lot of here to search. Did Sullivan’s vision give you any clues?”

“Just random snippets of various castle rooms.”

“Like she was looking for something.”

He nodded. “And I suspect she’s come and gone.”

“Meaning we’re probably looking, not for the Nix, but for what drew her here. Could be a wild-goose chase. But if the castle’s haunted, then it’s likely related to—”

“Well, that’s the thing. It isn’t haunted.”

“Huh?”

“One hundred percent spook-free.”

I frowned. “Places this old are always haunted. Maybe not ‘moaning specters and clanging chains’ haunted, but with real ghosts. The ones caught between dimensions and the ones who just like to soak up a little spooky atmosphere.”

“Normally that’s true. But not here.”

“Why not?”

Trsiel shook his head. “I have no idea. One of the ascendeds was assigned to investigate it last century, but then something more important came up, and he was never sent back. Nothing bad ever happens here. No unexplained murders. No demonic activity. No real reason to investigate further. If haunters don’t want to set up shop here, well, that’s not a bad thing. We have enough trouble with them as it is.”

“But something must make this place unpopular with ghosts. And maybe that something has to do with the Nix’s visit.”

We slid into the castle through a side wall, emerging in a huge dining room with a table set for twelve and portraits lining the paneled walls.

The moment I stepped inside, a tingle raced down my spine—an indefinable prickling, like something in me perking up.