Chapter 37
Two more days passed before I was released. The nurse wheeled me out a side exit, just in case any more reporters were still staking out Raigmore Hospital. Brandy was waiting there for me, seated on a new Harley-Davidson, a gift from the local dealership. She was now doing their television commercials.
"You look pretty sexy sitting on that hog."
"Accordin' tae the ads, the vibrations make me horny. Get oot o' that wheelchair and climb on, I'm drivin."
I slid behind her and we kissed, then she gunned the engine and accelerated down the driveway.
The Great Glen was aglow in a burnt-orange sunset by the time we arrived at Aldourie Castle.
"Brandy, what're we doing back here?"
"Loose ends, as ye say." She climbed off the motorcycle, and I followed her into the ancient mansion.
The study had been swept clean, and there were lit candles everywhere.
"This is where you wanted to make love? You're a spooky chick, you know that."
She kissed me, then led me to the fireplace. "There'll be plenty o' time for lovemakin', Zachary Wallace. First, there's some family business tae attend tae."
The back wall of the fireplace pivoted quietly upon its recently oiled hinges, revealing the dumbwaiter.
"Brandy—"
"Go on. I'll be here when ye're through."
I looked at her, uneasy, then stepped onto the platform and lowered myself down the dark shaft.
It wasn't until I reached bottom that I could see the torches. They'd been fixed to the cavern walls, illuminating a corridor that led away from the aquifer's access tunnel, down a different section of the cave.
I followed the lights, then rounded a corner and entered a torch- lit chamber.
There were two dozen Templar present, maybe more, all cloaked in Black hoods and tunics. In silence, they encircled me, and then the leader stepped forward, brandishing his gold sword.
"Zachary Adam Wallace," Alban MacDonald said, his voice muffled behind his hood, "are ye here of your own free will?"
"I am."
"Wi' this blood oath, dae ye swear allegiance tae the Order o' the Knight?"
"I do."
"Brethren o' the Templar, are there any objections tae acceptin' this novice intae the Order?"
None responded.
Reaching out, he took my right hand, then opened my flesh with a brush of his blade.
Alban signaled me to kneel, then recited Psalm 133. "Arise, Sir Zachary, for as o' this day an' forever mair, ye are a Templar Knight. Sir Angus?"
My father stepped forward, his face remaining cloaked. From his tunic he removed a silver casket, set on a braided gold chain. Holding it up to the light, he translated the Latin inscription aloud.
"The Bruce is Scotland, an' Scotland the Bruce. Protect the Braveheart, for freedom's sake… the coven o' the Black Knights made."
Angus placed the casket's necklace around my neck, and then I followed the procession to a small alcove.
Alban pressed on a section of rock, which pivoted, revealing a two-by-three-foot hiding place, its walls made of new brick and mortar, lined in silk.
Removing the Braveheart from around my neck, I placed it in its new resting place.
Alban muttered a prayer in Latin, then sealed the camouflaged coffin.
And then, one by one, the Black Knights revealed themselves to me as they shook my still-bleeding hand.
There was Calum Forest and Sheriff Holmstrom, and old man Stewart, my history teacher in Grammar School. True gave me a hearty bear-hug, and I was shocked to see Judge Hannam, who said, "Welcome hame, lad. Now dae us both a favor an' keep yer auld man oot o' my courtroom."
The Crabbit was last in line. He shook my hand in both of his, then inspected my bleeding palm. "I've learned that time can heal a' wounds, Zachary, even history's bloodiest affairs. One day soon, Scotland will achieve her true independence, an' on that day, yours an' mine will present the Braveheart tae her people. Until then, guard its secret well."
"Yes, sir."
"So, then, I understand ye asked my daughter for her hand."
"Stop pressurin' the boy, Crabbit," Angus bellowed, bulldozing his way into our conversation. "It's no' like he knocked her up!"
It took both True and I to separate them.
I guess some wounds take longer to heal than others.
Angus and I were the last pair to ascend.
"I take it Alban decided to reinstate you after you located the Braveheart?"
"I'm sure it influenced his decision. But it wis his idea tae welcome ye intae the Order, one I embraced."
As we approached the top of the shaft, the light from the study shone on my face.
Angus noticed my perturbed expression. "Wis there another loose end ye needed tyin'?"
"Just one. You knew Johnny C. had been bribing the local EPA officials, just like you knew it was the dynamiting at his resort that was driving the creature mad."
"So?"
"So, the Sargasso Sea incident happened back in January, which means you knew about my night terrors a good month before you confronted Cialino at Urquhart Castle."
"Whit's yer point?"
"Was it really an accident, or did you condition the monster with bait so it would be in the bay the evening you struck Johnny C.?"
"Condition the monster? Whit a clever idea. Wish I'd thought o' that." He gave me a wink, then stepped off the dumbwaiter into the fireplace where Brandy was waiting. "He's a' yours, lass. See if ye can get him tae relax a bit an' start enjoyin' his life. The laddie thinks way too much."
He waved, then strolled out the front door to the castle driveway, where Theresa Cialino was waiting for him in her Porsche.
Epilogue
It follows that any being, if it vary however slightly in any manner profitable to itself, under the complex and sometimes varying conditions of life, will have a better chance of surviving, and thus be Naturally Selected.
Evolution is not "of a very mystical nature." It depends on accidents. In numerous species these accidents happen often enough to give rise to statistical certainty.
Science is not "show and tell." As researchers, we should never base our conclusions on the iceberg's visible tip, nor on man's limited ability to access Nature. If an undiscovered species exists and we have yet to see it, it still exists. For her part, Nature has done her best to keep us away from her depths, be this the cold, peat-infested abyss of Loch Ness or the uncharted waters of the Mariana Trench. Only after we create the means of access shall the mysteries be unraveled. Until then, any conclusions we draw remain unproven.
And so my tale ends, only now I've come full circle, returning once more to this dreadful Sargasso Sea. Brandy's with me this time, and yes, we're married, with a child on the way.
The night terrors? A distant memory.
Brandy and I stood together on deck, hand in hand, as the crew of the research vessel, Manhattanville, lowered our remotely operated vehicle over the side. On-board the unmanned submersible were cameras, sonar, and my latest lure, one inspired by a long-forgotten childhood memory.