‘If that doesn’t allay any suspicions…’

‘Aye,’ said Sorcha.

They clinked cups and drank. Sorcha sank deeper into the seat, curling her legs under her. They sat quietly, their thoughts busy. Outside, the wind wailed and flurries of snow struck the windows. The fire crackled and spat and the clock ticked ponderously, offering a comforting contrast.

‘If nothing else,’ said Sorcha eventually, unfurling, leaning towards the flames, ‘Janet’s murder and what’s happened since has made me realise this is never going to end. Not until the reverend’s destroyed us, Nettie. You, me, Beatrix, Nicolas, Isobel, our families and friends too. What’s left of them. Margaret and Lillie were lucky they fled when they did. Cowper’s desperate. He’s been made to look a right gowk with Edinburgh, and with the Weem. He needs to show he’s right, to prove we’re all witches. He’ll use God, guards, torture, fear, lies and whatever else he can to do that. If we’re condemned by our own words, even better. This is about more than simply exposing us as witches, or the righteous might of God, this is about saving his reputation.’

Nettie took a generous swig of her whisky. ‘And that makes him more dangerous than ever before.’

Cradling her drink, Sorcha went to the window, her thoughts in turmoil. She could hardly credit that she finally had the means to bring Patrick Cowper to heel, perhaps more. The man who’d hurt her mor, her family, her friends, who’d threatened and harmed her as well. Enough. It was time to put an end to the unnatural control he had over too many of the townsfolk once and for all. She had to remind herself he wasn’t an emissary of God, no matter what he said. No one God sent to do His work would behave as Cowper had, with such disregard for the truth, clemency and justice. He was a mere mortal, and an evil one at that.

Outside, the wind began to really howl, shaking the windows and driving heavy rain against the cottage. The roar of the ocean could be heard, a mighty surge that presaged a storm. She pressed a hand against the glass.

‘It be a wild night out there,’ said Nettie, joining her.

‘A wild night for a wild reckoning,’ said Sorcha softly. Her thoughts turned once more to Aidan. Aidan and Robbie. ‘Hopefully it will blow over before we’re ready to leave.’

Wherever Aidan and Robbie were, whatever they were doing, at least when they came home — and she had to believe they would — the reverend wouldn’t be able to touch them or threaten them ever again. Not once she used the information she had to bring him down once and for all.