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He paused, staring out at the dark, serene waters of the legendary Scottish lake, and let the atmosphere wash over him. Growing up, he’d been fascinated by the legend of Nessie, the monster of the loch. Over time, he’d come to believe her a myth, one kept alive by the tourist industry that had grown up around Loch Ness. Nothing he’d seen since their arrival that morning had changed his mind, at least on the latter score. But with the discovery of the tooth, he at least had to consider the possibility.

Isla sidled up to him. “I don’t know about this, Maddock. So much of the Nessie story is utter bollocks.”

A group of tourists standing nearby cast baleful stares in their direction.

“Not a popular opinion around here,” he said. “Maybe mind your volume?” He added a wink to show he was joking.

“But surely you know all the objections?” She began counting on her fingers as she enumerated her concerns. “Putting aside some of the hoaxes, there’s the lack of food supply to support a breeding population; the utter improbability of a prehistoric creature living here for God knows how long without a single, fully verifiable sighting; no scientific evidence; and no carcasses washing ashore. Nothing. And in an age where everyone has a phone with a camera, why aren’t we getting new pictures of her?”

“You’ve been listening to the wrong people.” Grizzly had overheard their conversation, and he and Bones moved to flank Maddock and Isla. “Nessie sightings are actually on the rise. There have been several in the past couple of years, and we’re not talking about drunkards or crackpots.”

“No, just tourists who are desperate to catch a glimpse of a monster. That and true believers who jump at every piece of floating debris.”

“Come on, chick. Don’t be a cynic,” Bones said. “It’s not impossible that some sort of creature lives primarily in the sea, but comes here from time to time.”

Isla rounded on Bones. “And gets here how? Splashing along the River Ness, right through the heart of Inverness?”

“Saint Columba spotted her in the River Ness,” Grizzly said.

“Whatever. I just don’t believe she could traverse the river without being seen several times.”

“She, or they, wouldn’t come by river,” Bones said. “They’d come by underwater channels that eventually lead to the sea.”

Isla rolled her eyes and let out a huff of breath.

“It’s not impossible,” Bones went on. “Non-native shells have been found in the Loch. And let’s be real — no one’s ever done a serious exploration of every nook and cranny of this place. It’s too big, too many cracks and crevasses, and visibility is awful.”

“Let’s say I believe there are such channels. We’re talking about a creature moving from salt water to fresh water and back.”

“Saltwater crocs,” Grizzly offered.

“Bull sharks,” Bones chimed in.

Isla turned pleading eyes at Maddock. “Help me.”

Maddock laughed. “You got yourself into this. Over the past several years, I’ve learned to keep a check on my skepticism, or at least try.”

“Fine.” She turned back to Bones and Grizzly. “I can accept that at least some of the monster sightings are living creatures, and not just logs, gas bubbles, or hoaxes. But a prehistoric creature?”

“What is it, then?” Grizzly asked.

“Seals, giant eels, perhaps Wels catfish.”

Bones snorted. “Catfish? Come on. Have you heard of Operation Deepscan? They turned up a bunch of hits on large, unknown creatures. And another expedition got underwater photos of massive flippers and one of a long-necked creature.”

“Blurry, photographically enhanced images,” Isla said.

“Only because the water’s so clogged with peat particles that a better image is impossible,” Grizzly said.

Maddock had heard enough. “Look, we aren’t going to settle this. The fact of the matter is, we found an actual tooth from a plesiosaur that lived in the Irish Sea a little over a century ago. That proves that a sea creature can go undiscovered for thousands upon thousands of years.”

“Coelacanth,” Bones harrumphed, covering a fake cough.

Maddock shot a reproving glance at him. “And while that doesn’t mean similar creatures lived in this loch, it’s worth checking out.”

Isla gave a reluctant nod. “All right. But can we agree there’s no way a German U-boat could have made its way to the Loch?”

Maddock raised his hand to forestall arguments from Bones and Grizzly. “Let’s agree it’s unlikely.”

A sudden uproar from a group of tourists drew their attention.

Maddock whipped his head around, his senses on high alert since the events of the previous day.

“Oh my God! What is that?” A young woman pointed out into the loch.

Maddock’s jaw dropped when he saw what she was looking at. A row of low, dark humps was slicing through the water, making its way down the middle of the loch.

People shouted with excitement. Camera shutters clicked. Phones and tablets were trained on the moving object.

For a moment, Maddock was a true believer. He raised his camera and focused on the row of humps.

And then it was gone, followed down into the water by a chorus of groans from the onlookers.

“False alarm.” Disappointment hung heavy on Bones’ words.

“What do you mean?” Isla asked. The sparkle in her eyes said she, too, was beginning to forget her skepticism.

“It’s a common phenomenon in lakes, particularly a narrow one like this,” Bones said, gazing at the spot where the humps had melted away.

“A boat comes by, and its wake spreads out in both directions,” Grizzly said, picking up the explanation. “Eventually the waves created by the boat bounce off the sides of the Loch and move back toward the center. Sometimes you don’t even see them until they collide again, long after the boat is gone.”

“And the collision creates what looks like a series of humps,” Bones said.

Maddock understood. “And gives the illusion of movement. That’s disappointing.”

“Enough excitement for now,” Isla said. “Let’s proceed with the treasure hunt. There’s a tour group over there.” She inclined her head toward Grant’s Tower. “Maddock and I will speak with the tour guide. See if he knows any legends of treasure around here.”

Bones quirked an eyebrow. “Why just you and Maddock?”

“You’re too intimidating,” she said. “The guy might be hesitant to talk if you’re looking over him.”

“People say that about me, too,” Grizzly said. “It’s frustrating.”

“Sure. How about you and Bones take another look around the ruins for any signs of the Tuatha? Symbols we missed. Carvings and the like.”

The two nodded, though Maddock thought he saw a touch of suspicion in Bones’ eyes. He made a point to keep a respectful distance from Isla as they walked away.

The tour guide was a tall, fair-skinned man with a thick head of white hair and twinkling blue eyes. His name tag read “Douglas.” He greeted them warmly and was happy to chat about the history of the castle and Nessie sightings that had occurred in this area. When Maddock steered the conversation toward the topic of treasure, he raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

“You’re the first to ask me about the Urquhart Treasure. It’s not commonly-known.”

“We actually don’t know anything about it,” Isla said. “I’m writing a book on legendary Scottish treasures and wondered about any that might be associated with the Loch.”

“Well then,” Douglas said. “You’ll be wanting to know about the Urquhart Treasure, I suppose Long ago, Highlanders called this place Strone Castle, after the fortress that sat here upon Strone Point. As legend had it, the old fortress that sat here was built atop two vaulted cells built into the hollow rock below. One of the cells is filled with gold — a treasure of unimaginable value. The other seals up a pestilence that, if it were released, could wipe out all of Scotland. And no one knows which vault is which, save the men who sealed them there long ago, and that secret died with them.”