Page 140 of The Protective Gryphen

“While he only had one son, he was prosperous here, and he made sure that this town took root for centuries to come.”

“It’s a beautiful place.”

“Aye, that it is,” he admitted. Then, he realized he didn’t introduce himself. “I’m Alfie McCullum,” he said, shaking their hands. “This church is my responsibility, along with the elders.”

Ian followed suit.

“I’m Ian,” he said. “This is Gryphen. Like I said, we’re guests at the castle, and we’re working on figuring out what happened back in fifteen ninety-three.”

In the back room, he showed them all of the books.

“Well, Laddies, you have your work cut out for you,” he stated.

That they did.

“We really appreciate this,” he admitted. “The owner is dying to know what happened to Ceit, Duncan’s wife.”

Okay, he was the one dying to know, but the little white lie wasn’t that bad. He knew Elizabeth, and she’d be curious too.

“Well, if it’s here, you’ll find it. My suggestion is start with the death records. Even then, that was the predominant record the church kept. If she wasn’t from Scotland, she won’t have a birth certificate here.”

“Is Ceit a Scottish name?” he asked, spelling it how it was in the letter.

“It sounds Gaelic so Celtic or Irish to me. She was likely an arranged marriage to the family, and brought here for some alliance.”

Well, that was likely a dead end.

“And we can go through all the books here?” he asked. “You don’t mind?”

He reassured him.

“Aye, you can. There are only two things I ask. You wear gloves for the older books, and when you find out the truth, you let us know. There is much mystery surrounding that castle. Some say it’s haunted.”

Oh, well, you could say that.

“We’ve heard,” Ian said, refusing to look at Gryphen or he’d break out in laughter.

Someone saw some shit in that castle.

The minister shrugged.

“I don’t believe that myself, but if it was, I can only imagine it would be justified. The late fifteen hundreds was a turbulent time here with the struggle to keep our lands and the British rulers.”

Well, if anything, History told the tale about England and its quest for domination.

“Thank you,” Ian said. “I’ll be very respectful and share what we find.”

The man lowered his voice and looked around to make sure no one else was there.

“By any chance can you give me a wee little hint as to who bought Ravensmire?” he asked. “Everyone in town is curious what her fate is going to be.”

Ian wished he could, but there was no doubt Callen and Chris wanted this kept on the downlow.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. The owner prefers privacy.”

The man sighed.

“I can assume an American,” he said, seeing the tattoo on Gryphen’s arm now that his coat was off, and his sleeve pushed up.

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