The Poe Baxter Books Series Box Set - volume 1

Chapter 1-3

seanchasSeanchas“In a way, maybe,” he said with a smile. “It’s the Gaelic word for lore. I’ve always wondered how the term relates to the word science myself.”

lorescienceBeattie cleared her throat next to me, her not-so-secret way of signaling to me that we were about to go far off track. She knew that I could deep dive into etymology quite quickly if allowed. I glanced over at her and nodded, then flipped the page.

There, I saw a long list of names, beginning with Angus Duncan and moving through a whole slew of men up until 2019. The name listed there was Seamus Stovall, the man who currently owned the book. My uncle had told me a bit about Stovall, and while he sounded intriguing, he also sounded like a lot of wealthy white guys—very convinced that he had earned everything he had and, thus, required to be paid top dollar for it.

Still, my uncle and I shared the same biases about the world, so I thought it wise to get Adaire’s perspective on the current owner. “Tell me what you know about Stovall?”

Adaire rolled his eyes. “The word eccentric was probably coined for him. He has one of those mustaches that he waxes into curls at the end and then plays with as if they’re his embodied talisman of good fortune.”

eccentric“Wow. That’s a wonderful description,” Beattie said. “So he has a, uh, a strong sense of his self-worth?”

“That is kindly put,” Adaire said with a smile. “He is incredibly wealthy, and while he is also very generous with the small village he lives in, he’s a shrewd businessman. He knows the monetary worth of this book, and he will expect to be paid what he sees as his due.”

I squinted at Adaire. “Your choice of words seems very deliberate there. ‘What he sees as his due?’”

Adaire raised his eyebrows. “Caught that, did you? Well, as I see it, this book is a national treasure, one that no one person can really own. But Stovall and I disagree on this point.” He sighed. “It’s one reason I was not able to acquire the book directly for the Library.”

I nodded. “Well, I assure you our patron believes much as you do, and I look forward to returning the book to the public when we come back from the Highlands.” I tried to sound confident, but for my first buying experience, it was beginning to feel a bit beyond my depth. “Is there anything further you’d like to be sure we know about the book?”

Here, Adaire leaned forward and raised one eyebrow. “Now that you ask, there is a legend about the book itself.”

If my attention hadn’t already been captured for a number of reasons by this conversation, this sentence would have brought me in completely. As it was, I mirrored Adaire’s body language and leaned toward the desk. “A legend, you say?”

“A curse, really,” Adaire spoke more softly. “The stories have it that the person who has possession of the book begins to see monsters in every body of water.”

“Oh,” I said as I imagined how I would feel if I saw a sea monster in every lake. I decided I might be more fascinated than anything, so I wasn’t sure this story could actually be characterized as a curse. “Well, that would be disconcerting,” I said, trying to be tactful, “but seeing monsters is something some of us might enjoy.”

A glint of something between mirth and fear flashed through Adaire’s eyes. “Agreed, if we were talking about monsters in only the lochs and oceans, but rumor has it that every man who has owned this book sees monsters in every body of water he encounters.” He laid hard emphasis on the word every.

everyevery.“Like in his bathtub?” Beattie said quietly.

“And watering trough and pitcher and sometimes every mirror as well.” Adaire’s voice had grown somber.

I let out a long breath. “That’s intense then and maybe maddening in the very literal sense of the word.” Seeing Nessie in the Loch was one thing. A monster in every reflective surface was another. “How does Stovall feel about this legend?”

“Now, I’m not implying anything at all about how you should go about your negotiations, you hear.” He looked at Beattie and me with a firm gaze. “I’m just sharing what I’ve heard as potential background information. I have no part in how you acquire this manuscript.”

I looked at Beattie, and we both looked back at Adaire and nodded. Message received, I thought.

Message receivedHe continued. “From what I’ve heard, Stovall has required his staff to cover all mirrors, has f*******n all standing water on his property, and makes his assistant do all internet work for him so that he doesn’t even inadvertently see images of water on the screen.” Adaire sat back and studied the two of us across from him. “From what I can gather, the previous owner’s family became so concerned with his talk of monsters that they had him committed to a hospital for mental health treatment.”

I stared at this man who had seemed, until this moment, quite reasonable and studied. “I want to be sure I’m understanding. You’re saying this”—I looked back at the list of names in front of me—“Davis MacDonald was diagnosed with a major condition that was directly caused by this book.”

Adaire shook his head and smiled. “Not exactly. I’m not saying that’s why he was diagnosed or even that he was diagnosed with anything. What I am saying is that he claimed to be seeing monsters everywhere, and that led his niece to send him for treatment.”

I whistled. “Alrighty then.”

“So”—Beattie turned to me—“what I’m thinking is that we need to talk to MacDonald’s niece to figure out exactly what they think happened with their dad. And then we can use that as leverage to help with our conversations with Mr. Stovall.”

I nodded. “I think that is an excellent idea, Beattie. I’m glad you came up with it.” I looked over at Adaire and winked. Then, we both blushed.

After exchanging numbers and making plans to follow up with Adaire after our trip to the Highlands, Beattie and I headed up to the castle for high tea. On the way there, I studied the beautiful old storefronts and tall houses along the road.

One particularly gorgeous building that was a pink stucco that would have been garish anywhere but in this stony, gray city caught my eye. As we strolled past, I studied the beautiful wooden door and then glanced up at the lintel. There, carved in stone, was a sea monster looking directly at me.