I had no choice but to let it go. I mirrored his shrug, grabbed a sheaf of paper and wafted it vigorously to get the rest of the smoke out so we could see what was behind the magical door.

‘Bricks,’ I said. I peered closer. The fireball had certainly done its job; there was a good-sized hole in the wall. But if this really was Aifric’s secret room, where was the door? Maybe one of Aifric’s Gifts was the ability to turn himself incorporeal; that would be seriously cool.

Byron glanced inside. ‘I can’t see anything,’ he muttered. He flicked his hand again and sent out a small flame. In an instant the tiny space was flooded with light. I gasped and pulled back.

‘What—?’ Byron whispered.

I shook myself and checked again but I hadn’t imagined it. There were no boxes filled with dodgy documents, no flashing signs indicating that the evidence we needed to put Aifric away for good was here. There were, however, three fully-dressed corpses.

I retched. No wonder the bloody wall was brick and the study’s dimensions were odd. Whoever these unfortunate people were, they’d been buried alive. They weren’t like the stripped skeleton of Matthew MacBain that I’d come across in the Lowlands; judging by the two quick glimpses I’d had, these bodies were more recent. Not this year, or even this decade, although they appeared more mummified than decomposed. Their clothes were old-fashioned but not ancient.

‘They’re not Sidhe,’ Byron muttered.

I steeled myself for another look. He was right. Nausea roiled across my stomach. ‘They’re not human or Bauchan or troll. Or anything like that. These three are … were…’

‘Fomori,’ Byron finished grimly. He looked like someone who thought they’d reached rock bottom and thought there was no way things could get any worse. The trouble was that I knew they always could.

‘We should go, Byron. There’s nothing else here and you probably woke up everyone when you busted the wall.’

‘We’re not leaving yet. There has to be something else, some evidence of his culpability.’

A thin layer of dust now covered Aifric’s desk. I tugged on the drawers, pulling them open and looking inside before gesturing helplessly. ‘See? Nothing. Much as hate to say it, your father is too smart to leave anything lying around, even here. I found evidence at his rooms in the Cruaich that he’d had something to do with Fomori demons.’ I pointed at the hole in the wall. ‘Now we have more. Those bodies look too recent to be anything other than a result of his work. Maybe that’ll be enough.’

‘It’s not,’ Byron growled. He glanced at me balefully. ‘You’re new to this world, Integrity. I’m not. I know exactly what it will take to get everyone to believe the truth about my father.’ He jerked his head at the three dead Fomori demons. ‘And this is not going to do it. He’s got a silver tongue that can talk him out of anything. Maybe he’ll place the blame on some poor builders who were never even here. Maybe he’ll even own up to it ‒ they are Fomori demons, after all. Who’s going to mourn their deaths? We’ve got your Clan emblem which Jamie gave to me. Even with his psychometry, that gives us circumstantial evidence against him at best. There’s the Fomori trinket you found which my father could dismiss as some kind of artefact. And these three bodies. It’s not enough.’