Page 27 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

“She’s not for sale,” Maisie laughed out, but in an unsure and defensive sort of way.

“Four,” Joe tried.

“No—”

“Five.”

“I told you?—”

“Fifty thousand,” said Percy. The group fell silent, Joe set panicked eyes on Percy, and Percy lifted Joe’s fingers to his lips, dropping a quieting peck on them. “That would probably buy half this place. You’ll have your next pub in no time.”

Maisie stood a little taller, looking as though he’d just told her she smelled like old turnips. “Absolutely not. Molly isnotfor sale. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get your room key.”

Molly’s skull screamed the second Maisie’s fingers touched her, and it didn’t stop. Maisie disappeared around the corner with her. They heard her shouting at the skull, the skull screaming back, then still more screaming but muffled, with the slamming of what sounded like a fridge door.

“You’re mad. The pair of you,” muttered George. Then to Joe, “I can see why he likes you so much.”

“I do like him,” said Percy, leaning a little closer and lowering his voice. “And I want that skull. As a wedding gift. Can you talk her around?”

“Percy,” Joe whispered, trying to halt him, but with that sinking, nerve-racking, utterly adoring feeling he’d accidentally set a boulder in motion that wasn’t going to stop for anything.

George let out a sharp laugh. “Maisie? The Devil himself couldn’t talk her around. But it’s not up to her anyway. It’s the curse, you see. Molly can’t ever leave this building. If she goes, the whole place goes up in flames. Or so the story says. We’re not about to put it to the test.”

Without missing a beat, Percy asked, “Would you consider selling me the pub?”

Maisie slammed a key down on the counter top. “Up those stairs, first door on the left. You’ll be here by yourself from ten tonight until twelve tomorrow. Lock up the front door if you go out, and Don’t. Touch. Molly.”

“But couldn’t she come up to our room just for tonight?” This request Joe paired with an artless flutter of his eyelashes so flooring that Percy thought it must be case-closed, irresistible as he obviously was.

Unfortunately for them, Maisie was made of sterner stuff. “Goodnight,” she said sharply.

Too well-mannered to not follow direction, Percy tugged at Joe’s unwilling arm, said their goodnights, and they made their way upstairs.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JOE’S MANY AND HARRIED THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT SKULL

“She’s not a witch, she’s a vengeful spirit!” Joe railed, pacing back and forth across what would have been a surprisingly grand room had he stopped to consider it. “Four hundred years— Did you hear that? Four hundred years trapped in that skull!”

Percy stretched out a little longer on the gigantic mahogany four-poster bed. “If Cleo’s killed as many girls as Althea suggests, then it shouldn’t be too hard to find a replacement skull over there. It’s awfully white though, isn’t it? We might have to go back into Lerwick to get some peroxide to bleach one.”

Joe didn’t relent his furious striding beneath the low carved-wood ceiling. “Their families are bound to want their skulls back if we find their bodies.”

“A graveyard, then?”

“Yes!” Joe spun around with a finger waggling at Percy. “That’s exactly what we need. Someone dead for long enough that no one will be personally upset about us digging them up—if they find out—but fresh enough that we won’t damage the skull too badly when we boil it.”

“I know the perfect one. It’s about two hundred years old, and has been out of use for the last sixty. We should be able to find some shovels somewhere around the place. We’ll dig up a head tomorrow night.”

“That’s perfect.” Joe came to a satisfied halt in front of the small, cosy, twisting-iron fireplace, decorated with maroon glazed tiles, the flames snapping and cracking heartily in front of him, and finally he noticed it. And he noticed the deep red wallpaper, the thick carpet beneath his feet, the dark red drapes, and the gorgeously polished wood that comprised the ceiling and walls. He saw the adorable window seat, the cute casement windows, the sheep grazing on the grass outside, and the fields beyond dotted with more sheep, and nothing else but that church on the hill. And he noticed, when he eventually turned around, Percy, lying on one arm, his coat and shoes discarded, waiting for him.

“Do you like it, darling?”

Embarrassment, but the nice kind that comes with being very well loved, swept over Joe. His cheeks were pink again, and he took refuge in Percy’s arms, climbing up onto the bed in front of him, resting his head in the nook of Percy’s shoulder. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

Percy dropped a kiss on his cheek with an indulgent smile. “Catholic guilt playing up again?”

“No!” Joe immediately snapped, but then, seeing Percy was only half joking, admitted, “Yes. A bit. But the Protestants were just as bad, obviously.”

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