Mary’s eyes are wide. ‘Did someone – God, did someone kill …’

‘No. Yes.’ My hands are fists. ‘I did.’

When her eyes grow wider, I force my hands to unclench. ‘You don’t understand this place, these islands, because I’ve never told you. I’ve never been able to. The crows are vándr-varði. I made them to protect us.’

Mary snatches a piece of paper out of her jeans pocket, unfolds it to reveal a clumsy Viking rune pattern drawn in black felt-tip. ‘Calum’s been doing these. I’m finding them all over the house. He even drew one on the wall. The Helm of Awe and Terror, he tells me. To protect us from evil.’ She shakes her head, and I understand that she’s furious. ‘I will not have you make Calum as paranoid as you.’

‘That’s not what – it’s no different to touching wood or never putting shoes on a table. When I was a kid, whenever a storm was coming, Mamaidh always told me to put a poker and tongs in the fire to protect the house. These islands are thin places. And you have to be careful – so careful – what you do in thin places.’

‘For God’s sake! What does that mean, Robert? Fiona told me you were acting strange in the village last—’

‘Christ! I couldn’t care less what Fiona bloody MacDonald told you.’ I make myself stop. I feel desperate. She has to understand. She has to. I hold out my hands. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just I have to make sure that you and Calum are safe.’

‘Robert.’ The anger goes out of her and she comes towards me. There are tears in her eyes.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, let my palm linger against the softness of her cheek until the ground feels a little more solid beneath my feet again. And I finally say what I should have said the minute we drove off that ferry from Skye. ‘You have to trust me, Mary. Mamaidh was right.’ I rub my thumbs against the warm wet of her skin. ‘You have no idea what it’s like when a place like this turns against you.’

CHAPTER 27

‘I said you don’t have to come.’

‘And I said I want to come,’ Will says, quickening his pace to match mine, trying to take my hand.

‘Why? You don’t believe me.’

‘Hey. Wait.’ He grabs hold of my hand, forces me to stop walking. ‘Wait.’

I try not to look at him even when he turns me around.

‘I said I believed you,’ Will says. His lips are pressed thin, his eyes dark and intense. ‘Because I believe you, Maggie.’

I feel different today. I woke up feeling better. Stronger. Calm rather than desperate. A little angry. I regret the weakness of yesterday. I can still feel its contamination in Will’s I believe you; in my lingering need to hear it. But I’m not that person any more. I face things.