Isabel Cooper | Exclusive Excerpt from NIGHT OF THE HIGHLAND DRAGON

This sunset was of the sullen red-and-gray winter variety. Brittle grass and browning heather brushed the sides of her skirt. Hard dirt crunched beneath her shoes. Cold wind knifed through her coat.

Eyes watched her.

The feeling came from nowhere, and she could see nobody around, only barren fields to each side and behind, and the castle and forest ahead of her. Yet she was completely certain of the scrutiny.

She knew words in Latin that let her see hidden things: spirits, auras, and lines of magical force. As their mother had done, Stephen called it “invoking the Wind that Parts the Veil.” Colin talked enthusiastically these days about energy and magnetism. Judith knew and cared only that it worked. She stopped in her tracks, a tall, dark woman standing alone in the midst of late- autumn desolation, and said the words aloud.

The world clouded. Grass, heather, trees, and houses all became misty and insubstantial. As far as Judith could observe, her own aura was as it always was: bright green, shot through with streaks of glimmering silver. She didn’t spend long looking at that this time. Other things caught her attention.

Literally, “things” was the first word that came to mind. Little, six-armed rat- things—just looking at them hurt Judith’s eyes. Six of them lurked around her in a rough semicircle, any one of them staying perhaps ten feet behind her. If she hadn’t been looking, she might have missed them, even with magical sight. She hadn’t—and her stomach clenched at the thought that these miniature horrors could have been following her for a good month now. If they had been, they’d kept more distance. Now they’d grown bold enough and perhaps strong enough to attract her attention.

The longer she looked, the more nauseated she grew. The rat-things had nasty-looking teeth and sharp claws at the end of each arm—now the wounds on Finlay’s dead sheep made sense—but they weren’t a physical danger. They were clearly spies or scavengers, not killers. They weren’t harmless, though. By their very presence, they caused damage, not directly to people or things but to the fabric of the world nearby. There were no exact words for what they did, but rough synonyms came to Judith one after the other.

Fray.

Tear.

Twist.

Corrupt.

Rot.

She remembered Shaw Senior telling her that he’d checked his ladder before starting work. She remembered Agnes talking about Murray’s horse suddenly going vicious—and she wondered just how the fire had started at the Connohs’ store. Things went wrong with these creatures in the world, and although Shaw’s injury had happened while she’d been in the castle and therefore in close proximity, the others had been farther and farther away. The effect was spreading.

She turned and started back toward the castle, moving at her same unhurried but purposeful speed while her mind whirled. Odds argued against the rat-things being natural, which meant they’d been summoned for a purpose. That purpose might include spying. Tactically, it might be best to let them keep watch and pretend she had no idea they existed—but she couldn’t let them stay in the world, not with the damage they were doing.

How to get rid of them? Assuming their master wasn’t already seeing through their eyes—Mother had said it was damnably hard to ride along with a demon, and that people who did usually couldn’t even fake sanity for long—she didn’t want to risk even one getting away to bear tales.

The wind picked up again. She barely felt it. The demons were tagging along behind her, maintaining a steady distance. Judith glanced back briefly to confirm this, then looked quickly forward again. Watching the creatures move was even worse than looking at them in the first place.

Could she take all six of them? In a fight, yes, almost definitely. But if one ran, she might not have the reflexes to catch it. Small things were fast and slippery. She’d learned that hunting rats on her first ship and had spent twenty years with a scar on one arm to remind her. She had the instincts of a soldier, not a predator.

Not in human shape, at least.

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About Isabel Cooper

During the day, Isabel Cooper maintains her guise as a mild-mannered project manager in legal publishing. In her spare time, she enjoys video games, ballroom dancing, various geeky hobbies, and figuring out what wine goes best with leftover egg rolls. Cooper lives with two thriving houseplants in Boston, Massachusetts.

IsabelCooper.org | Blog

About NIGHT OF THE HIGHLAND DRAGON

"They say," said the girl, "that people disappear up there. And I heard that the lady doesna' ever grow any older."

"The lady?" William asked.

"Lady MacAlasdair. She lives in the castle, and she's been there years, but she stays young and beautiful forever."

In the Scottish Highlands, legend is as powerful as the sword-and nowhere is that more true than in the remote village of Loch Aranoch. Its mysterious ruler, Judith MacAlasdair, is fiercely protective of her land-and her secrets. If anyone were to find out what she really was, she and her entire clan would be hunted down as monsters.

William Arundell is on the trail of a killer. Special agent for an arcane branch of the English government, his latest assignment has led him to a remote Highland castle and the undeniably magnetic lady who rules there. Yet as lies begin to unravel and a dark threat gathers, William finds himself drawn deeper and deeper into the mystery of the Highlands...and the woman he can neither trust nor deny.

He prays she isn't the murderer; he never dreamed she was a dragon.