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.

GIVEAWAY

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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.