Entangled in the sleeping bag, I kicked my way out and half crawled, half stumbled from the tent into the pre-dawn gray, my racing heart threatening to leap out of my chest.

Calm down! Breathe! You're okay, Wallace… just another dream.

I paced the campsite, frantically speaking my thoughts, forcing myself to refocus on the images of this bizarre new night terror. "I was underwater… but not as a child, this time as an adult. And I was dead. How did I die? Why was I naked? Was it a vision?"

I stared at my hands, which were still trembling, then suddenly I froze.

Something was moving through the woods!

Like a frightened deer, I looked left to right, right to left, the forest damp and still. Traces of gray mist still cloaked the ground, waiting to be burned away by dawn's first light.

And then my eyes caught movement.

There were three of them, shadowy figures, all cloaked in black, following the stream in the direction of the Loch.

I searched for my hiking boots. Shoving them over my bare feet, I tugged on the laces, then hurried after the three intruders.

They were well ahead of me, their dark tunics the perfect camouflage, though every now and then I caught a glimpse of a flashlight's beam.

The Black Knights?

The mountainside steepened now, the creek widening as it raced to empty into Loch Ness. The leaves were wet, the rocks by the stream covered in heavy moss, making the going treacherous. I rolled my ankle, yelping in pain, then paused, quickly tying my laces for more support.

That's when I noticed the blood.

Patches of crimson streaked the tops of several rocks, as if a bleeding corpse were being dragged along the brook's path.

I hurried on, jogging down the slope, then heard the telltale whine of an outboard motor.

By the time I emerged from the forest, the Zodiac was racing away from shore. In the dim light I made out three men aboard the craft, all dressed in black, a heavy burlap sack between them, soaked in blood.

* * *

The eastern bank of Loch Ness is so long and straight that, looking north on a clear day, one can see the surface meet the sky. This view stayed with me over the next three hours as I followed the tree- lined shore, making my way slowly toward the village of Foyers.

In my backpack were several swabs of blood taken from the rocks. The lab in Inverness would tell me if it came from an animal or human, and then I'd confront Alban MacDonald.