Highland Sinner Read Online Free PDF Page B

his eyes and tried to reach out to the echoes of the feelings left behind by those who had been here before him. It was a trick one of his more gifted cousins had shown him and it did allow him to make the most use of his meager talent. The sharp tang of fear was no surprise, but once he pushed beyond that, Tormand sensed other things. Lingering in the air was the anger and hatred he had suspected was behind the mutilation. Those feelings were tainted with something he could only assume was madness.
    “Get anything?” asked Simon.
    Tormand opened his eyes, realizing that Simon had probably guessed that he had some little gift a long time ago. “Fear, anger, hatred. There is a coldness to the latter two. But, there is also something else. I think it is madness.”
    “Most certainly.”
    “Did ye find anything?” Tormand asked, as he followed Simon outside and took a deep breath in the hope of clearing the stench of death from his nose.
    “Nay more than that this is where the crime was committed. By the time Clara was carried out of here she was already dying.” Simon held out his hand. “I also found this.”
    Tormand frowned at the small hairpin Simon held. “Clara’s?”
    “Nay, this is a common bone one. Clara would never wear such a thing.” Simon put it in his pocket. “It could have belonged to a woman who once lived here, but I will keep it all the same.”
    “So we have failed.”
    “Aye and nay. We havenae found the killer, true enough, but I didnae expect to. Nay, that will take time.”
    “Another woman could die.”
    “I fear so, but there is naught we can do about that.”
    “We must just wait until it happens?”
    “We cannae set a guard on every woman in the town, Tormand. Nay, we just keep hunting, my friend.
    Hunting until we catch and cage this bastard.”
    And pray I dinnae hang first, Tormand silently added.
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    Chapter 3
    Morainn struggled to ignore the way the shopkeeper crossed himself as she entered the small dim room where he displayed his wares. She was tempted to leave, to not gift him with her business, but she needed some of his sturdy barrels for the cider and mead she made and he was the only cooper in town.
    She would simply ignore him as she had ignored all the other townspeople who had moved away, crossed themselves, muttered prayers, or made a sign they foolishly thought could ward off evil as she had walked through town. It hurt, but she should be used to that pain, she told herself.
    And they were all hypocrites, anyway, she thought as some of her hurt began to spin itself into anger.
    They came to her quickly enough when they or someone they cared for was hurt or sick and the leech or midwife could do nothing to help. They also sought her out when they needed answers no one else could give them. If she was so evil that they could not even stand to be near her, what did that make them when they came begging at her door for help?
    She took a deep, slow breath to quell that anger. It only made her head ache and gained her nothing for the pain. The way the big-bellied cooper paled a little when Morainn looked into his small eyes told her that not all of her anger had been tucked away. The fool probably feared she was about to change him into a newt or something worse, she thought. If she possessed such magic she would not be so kind.
    Morainn was just concluding her business with the man when she felt a sharp coldness in the air and she knew it was not from a change in the weather. She quickly smothered the urge to sniff the air like some hound, thanked the man for his reluctant help, and stepped outside. Her barrels would be brought to her home on the morrow and she had no need to linger in the town that had so callously tossed her out years ago. Whatever tainted the air was not her concern, she firmly told herself as she started the long walk home.
    Just as she reached the edge of town