Authors: Quintin Jardine
Gradually his vision returned, and he realised that he and Alex had been edging, hand-in-hand, down the slope, towards the centre of the lightning strike, tugged like moths towards the candle. He held her still, pressing her face against his chest to help her eyes recover, and to prevent her seeing, when they did, what lay before them, on the shores of the Truth Loch, in the centre of the charred circle, a twisted, melted thing in its hand.
Trembling still, Skinner looked on and whispered, 'And by lightning . .' to no one in particular.