We rode the rest of the way in grim silence, the rain and the slap of the windshield wipers the only sounds. We had to take a detour around the low water crossing on Trask Road, onto Butt’s Corners Road, which cut through the woods. As we came around a sharp turn, the headlights picked up dark shapes in the road. Angus slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting the deer. The lead stag turned to regard us, his eyes glowing gold in the headlights. He stood facing us while the rest of the herd crossed the road in safety, his gold eyes seeming to look directly into mine. Even the enchanted deer were choosing to leave.

Back on Trask Road we passed the Olsen farm. All the lights were on at the big house on the hill.

“They’ll be keeping vigil over the woods,” Angus said, “maintaining the wards until the door is closed. All this water disrupts the flow of energy. I imagine they’re having a hard time of it.”

“What about the Norns? Are they leaving?”

Angus shook his head. “The Norns are creatures outside of this world and the world of Faerie. They say that when the first fey came to this world the Norns and certain other creatures were already here.”

We drove on in silence for another few minutes, and then I asked, “What other creatures?”

Before Angus could answer, Lura’s house came into view.

“Holy cow!” Mac swore.

“Language, son,” Angus admonished, but then muttered something in Gaelic, which sounded far worse than what Mac had said.

Lura’s house was bathed in flickering blue and green light. A multi-hued wall of light surrounded the house. A dozen men, all dressed in plaid shirts, stood in a circle around the house, their arms extended, their broad faces stolid in the pouring rain.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“They’re holding up the plaid,” Angus said proudly. “That’s what we Stewarts do. It’s an ancient power handed down from our ancestors in Scotland. We can use the plaid to protect the innocent and banish the evil.”

I noticed now that the wall of light was indeed woven of glowing strands of red, gold, blue and green – like a luminescent tartan. But I also noticed that water from the rising creek was seeping through it.

“The house looks like it’s going to float away,” I said. “Surely Lura and Lorelei will see they have to get out of there now.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mac said, pointing to the porch.

A figure was sitting in a rocking chair. Waves of blue-green light reflected off the barrel of a shotgun laid across her lap. Lura was so still she might have been a statue of ash, but when the light caught her eyes, the hate in them was very much alive.

“You two stay here,” I said, “I’ll go talk to her.”