***

I sprinted up the driveway, no longer attempting to conceal myself. The darkness was enough of a shroud, although it also worked against me as the road here was almost as badly maintained as the Adair one. On at least one occasion I narrowly avoided landing in a deep pothole. When I reached the spot where Byron had parked his car, I wondered if he’d left it there to avoid damaging its suspension on the uneven ground. Given what I’d seen at the border, however, he could well have parked there because he wanted to disguise his approach to the castle.

I paused to peer through the windows. The car was spick and span; I’d find no clues there.

I started running again. I’d never been here – at least, not that I could remember – so I was travelling blind. Taylor had always maintained the importance of preparation when making an incursion and I’d always stuck to that rule but these were special circumstances. I pushed away the voice that told me I was being reckless and acting out of character and kept on going.

The Moncrieffe castle was lit by two flickering torches near the heavy, studded main door. I couldn’t see any other lights in the windows; with their crappy finances, the Moncrieffes were probably trying to cut back on the electricity bill. Perhaps Aifric considered financial fraud beneath him, even if mass murder was acceptable.

I debated whether to open the door, slip inside and take on whatever came my way but it was too much of a risk. And there was always another way in. Always.

I darted to my left. There was a bank of windows along the eastern side, all firmly closed. It didn’t matter; Scottish architecture always included a handy back door. I’d nip in through there.

I ran softly round the outskirts of the castle, taking care to duck and roll every time I passed a window in case someone happened to spot me flying past. I zipped round the corner, my confidence growing when I saw a small door built into the back wall. Easy-peasy.

I tugged on the handle. Nothing happened so I tugged again. Arse. I couldn’t even find a suitable lock to pick; the bloody door was bolted on the other side in several places. Not insurmountable, but it would take time I didn’t have. Maybe it was locked because Aifric knew someone could finagle their way in past the border and massacre everyone inside. After all, he’d done that himself to my Clan. Then I reminded myself that the Bull’s back door had been locked too. I was over-thinking.

I pulled back, looking around for another entrance. If Byron had sneaked in here, he had to have entered the castle somehow. It was his childhood home so he’d be well aware of every nook and cranny, unlike a stranger like me. I was, however, a gifted thief; if there was another entrance through which I could slip in unnoticed, I’d find it.