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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

But what if it was more than that?

Isobel had been holding a needle and a piece of fabric. Screwing his eyes shut, he was sure what she’d actually been holding was a doll, a doll bearing his likeness that she was about to prick with that long needle.

His eyes opened.

She hadn’t just screamed, had she? Words had spilled out of her mouth. Frantic, hurried words that, try as he might, he couldn’t follow nor understand. Gibberish, it was. With a thundering heart, he remembered… there were coal-black figures cavorting behind her. He’d assumed it was the fire throwing shapes against the wall, but what if there was another explanation?

He became ice-cold before a raging heat filled his veins. She’d been casting a spell on him. That was why nothing had gone right for him all year, or for the rest of the crew on the boat that employed him. If he thought about it, he wagered he could pinpoint all the bad in his life to that night — Hogmanay.

Hogmanay and Isobel Adam.

Alexander leaned forward and stared at the smouldering peat, trying his hardest to recollect everything. Reverend Cowper’s words from a Sunday a few weeks ago overlaid the images that were dancing about his head; they mingled with the warnings the reverend had repeated that very morning. ‘Nae person shall seek any help from or consult with any users of witchcraft… on pain of death.’

Leaping to his feet, Alexander finished his drink and reached for his coat. He had to tell someone what he now knew to be true. His ill-fortune and that of the Weem was because of witches. It was because of Isobel Adam and all those she consorted with. She’d ensorcelled him in an attempt to lure him into her demonic ways. He’d woken in time and thus broken the spell and saved himself.

It was time to save others. To save the Weem. Just as young Peter Morton had tried to do. As Patrick Cowper tried even now. God bless them.

As he wrenched open the door, he heard the sobs of young Joanna Browning. Folk were peering through their windows and standing on their stoops despite the cold, not knowing whether to go to her aid but hoping to prevent worse happening. He ignored them all and strode down the wynd towards the manse. He had to tell the reverend. If he didn’t, then just like Cowper said, he was the same as those who aided and abetted the witches — he would be seen as one of them. A conspirator.

If he didn’t reveal what he now remembered as clearly as if it were yesterday, then he would be punished just as Reverend Cowper said — as a witch.

Punished unto death.

Thirty-Seven

THIRTY-SEVEN

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A drew gaun aboot.

(An unidentifiable illness attacking people all over town.)