Max motioned to Angus to stay calm. "My apologies, my lord."

"Mr. Rael, finish your questions now, or I shall dismiss the witness to seek medical attention."

"Yes, of course. Dr. Wallace, on or about your ninth birthday, was there any construction going on at Loch Ness? Dr. Wallace?"

"I have no idea," I muttered through the pain.

"In fact, Dr. Wallace, the record shows that a new layby was being blasted at Urquhart Castle, expanding the parking lot from twelve spaces to its present forty-seven. Did you not know that?"

I bit my tongue and swallowed, fighting to keep the bile from rising up my throat.

"Dynamite, Dr. Wallace. By your own theory, an agitator to large predators living in …"

Had God granted me one wish at that moment, I'd have requested a gun. My first shot would have struck Maxie between the eyes, stifling his incessant voice, the second and third bullets reserved for Angus and that pompous judge. The rest of the clip would be dedicated to my throbbing head, ending my misery, once and for all.

But I had no gun, all I had was intense pain and anger.

Judge Hannam was about to add humiliation to the list. "Dr. Wallace, we'll take a recess and get you some medical attention in just one minute, but first, I'm going to ask you to lower your trousers, just a bit, for the jury."

"What?"

The jury leaned forward, mentally salivating, the visitors hunching up in their seats.

I swallowed hard. "Your honor, this is absurd!"

"You're wearing boxers, yes?"

"Yes, but—"

"I agree it's unorthodox, but I mean to put an end to Mr. Rael's antics before this murder trial turns into a search for the Loch Ness monster."

The shadow ascends beneath me, homing in on the trail of blood. It rises higher, I can feel its presence around my knees, I can hear it growling in my ears… oh, Jesus, get to the light, Zachary! Get to the light!

"Clear the courtroom," said the judge, turning to his Court Macer. "Everyone but the jury, the accused, and the prosecutors."

The migraine was skewering my eyes, the Macer moving too damn slow. No one wanted to leave, and I was beyond desperate, the images and the migraine causing my entire body to tremble.

To hell with them!

Standing upon my chair on quivering legs, I unbuckled my trousers, then ceremoniously yanked my pants and boxers down six inches, allowing the High Court of Inverness to ogle my waistline, revealing to one and all, the hideous line of two-inch purple scars that encircled the fleshy upper region of my buttocks.

The Diary of Sir Adam Wallace

Translated by Logan W. Wallace

Entry: 23 October 1330