The Deepest Cut, (MacKinnon Curse series, book 1)

by J.A. Templeton

  Chapter 4

  I awoke at eight-thirty to the sound of Miss Akin humming.

  “It’s about time you are up, love. You need to get ready to register for school.”

  I sat up in bed. School? “But school doesn’t start for weeks.” The very thought of starting a new school made me sick to my stomach, especially since my grades had taken a serious dive in the past year.

  “Yes, but you register for your classes today.”

  Could my life suck more? I wasn’t ready to face my peers, who undoubtedly would completely pick me apart.

  “Is my dad here?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Work was his life. Always had been, always would be. Moving to Scotland wouldn’t change that.

  “No, he left about seven. Said he’d see you tonight.” She set a pile of folded laundry on my dresser and clapped her hands together. “You had best get moving. I know how young women are when it comes to primping.”

  She so didn’t know me. I wasn’t a primper. I needed thirty minutes to get ready, from the time I entered the shower, to the time I walked out the door. I was hungry though, and my stomach chose that moment to growl.

  Miss Akin smiled. “I tell you what—you get in the shower and I’ll set to work on making you breakfast. How does eggs and haggis sound?”

  “Haggis?” I’d heard horror stories about the Scottish version of sausage, made of sheep heart and other parts. “No thanks, but I wouldn’t mind some eggs and toast.”

  Miss Akin looked a little disappointed I wasn’t taking her up on the haggis, but I couldn’t eat anything that got my sensitive gag reflex going. “Is Shane up?”

  “Yes, and already gone.”

  Now that surprised me. Shane usually slept until noon.

  “He said something about seeing you over at the school.” She picked up my dirty socks and frowned. “Did you cut yourself, love?”

  My stomach clenched. Normally when cutting I was careful, hiding the blood by either tossing out or washing the soiled clothes myself, but in my excitement after meeting Ian, it had completely slipped my mind. “No. Why?”

  “There’s dried blood on your sock.”

  “I must have cut myself shaving.”

  “My goodness, it must have been quite a gouge to leave such a stain. Be careful next time, my dear.”

  “I will,” I said, scrambling off the bed. I pulled on some sweatpants and opened up the curtains, looking out at the castle. I was even more curious about the castle now that I knew Ian had lived there. I admit I wanted to know more about him, and already couldn’t wait to see him again. “Miss Akin, is the castle open to the public?”

  “Usually sections of the castle are open for visitors this time of year, but the family who owns it is on holiday, and while they’re away they’ve decided to tackle some much-needed renovations. Only the construction crew is allowed in for now.”

  Disappointed, I asked, “When does the family return?”

  “The end of the month, I believe. Just in time for school.”

  I had no intention of waiting weeks to see the castle.

  “You get in that shower and I’ll get to making your breakfast,” she said, nudging me toward the bathroom.

  Within thirty minutes I had showered and dried my hair. I had no idea what was in fashion in Braemar, Scotland, so I thought I’d play it safe with name-brand jeans, a baby-blue T-shirt, and tennis shoes. My hair wouldn’t cooperate, so I pulled it up into a high ponytail, and grabbed a lightweight jacket out of my closet.

  I found Miss Akin in the kitchen, humming to herself. I wolfed down a piece of toast, wanting to get to the school early, and hopefully, find Shane.

  I left the house and crossed the road, passing by a restaurant that was packed and a store where a few old men sat out on a bench; talking and smoking. On every street corner flower baskets full of colorful blooms hung from old-fashioned lampposts. I hated to admit it, but the little town had a charm most cities lacked. I was used to strip malls and subdivisions, not quaint houses on huge lots, and miles upon miles of open green space.

  I walked over the ancient stone bridge, my fingers brushing the polished iron railing as I looked down at the river, remembering the expression on Ian’s face yesterday when I’d turned to him and told him I could see him. There was a part of me that questioned befriending a ghost. Let’s face it, the possibilities of someone aside from my brother, Dad and Miss Akin seeing me talking to myself were pretty high. If I wasn’t careful, I could end up in a mental hospital, or at the very least, forced to take those horrible meds again.

  I heard a familiar voice and saw Shane step out of a store, followed by two other boys, both of whom carried skateboards. When Shane looked my way, he actually waved and walked toward me. “Riley, this is Richie and Milo. Guys, this is my sister Riley.”

  “Hey Riley,” the boys said in unison, checking me out hard, especially Milo whose eyes were practically glued to my boobs.

  “Hey,” I said with a smile.

  Richie had stick-straight red hair he wore back in a low ponytail, a navy and gray v-neck sweater, and jeans that had seen better days. Milo had a lip ring, and what I assumed to be dyed black spiky hair, since his eyes were hazel and his skin really pale. He was tall and rail thin, and wore tight-ass, skinny jeans and a black holey concert T-shirt of a band I’d never heard of.

  “Come on, I’ll show you where the school is,” Shane said, motioning for me to follow.

  Milo and Richie dropped their boards and started down the street.

  Shane and I walked in silence, and I hated that we felt awkward with each other. There was so much unspoken tension that I wondered if our relationship would ever recover. “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to check out the castle after registration.”

  He didn’t look in the least bit interested.

  “The family who owns it is away for the summer,” I added. “It’s closed to the public, so we’d have to break in. I totally understand if you don’t want to.”

  His eyes instantly lit up. “Count me in.”

  · · · · ·

  Braemar High was an old brick building that smelled oddly similar to my school back home in Portland. It had three levels, and given my schedule, I knew I’d be getting a lot of exercise running up and down the stairs since my classes were scattered throughout each floor.

  Shane had bailed on me shortly after arriving at the school, telling me we’d meet up later at the castle. I wasn’t holding my breath, especially now that he’d found buddies, but at least we were talking. That was a good start.

  Only one girl had approached me in the two hours I was at registration, and as sweet as she’d been, I knew we would never be close friends. We were just too different, and honestly, I didn’t know if I could let anyone in after losing all my buddies back home. I realized I hadn’t helped matters by pulling away after my mom’s death, but still, it hurt that everyone had let go so easily.

  And what about Ian? Did I feel it was okay to befriend him because he was a ghost? I’d never had a guy friend, well—aside from Kerry Johnston in the first grade, but that hardly counted. Playing hide-and-seek on the school playground was a lot different than a sixteen-year-old girl hanging out with a nineteen-year-old guy.

  I rushed over the bridge and past the inn. I didn’t spare the cemetery a glance, and even stayed on the opposite side of the road.

  Before I knew it, I was at the castle’s driveway, sliding under the chain.

  I avoided looking over at the trees, not wanting or needing a reminder that I had cut yesterday.

  “It’s sort of creepy.”

  I jumped at the sound of Shane’s voice. His hands were shoved into his jean pockets, and his eyes were seriously bloodshot. No wonder I hadn’t been able to find him after registration. He’d been getting blazed with his new friends.

  “Yeah, it is,” I said, not blaming him for getting high. I’d smoked pot a few times with my friend Ashley. I never did understand the appeal. I f
elt paranoid and awkward, and I ate anything in sight. Not pretty.

  “So are you sure about this?” he asked, sounding hesitant.

  Nothing short of cops showing up was going to stop me from getting inside that castle. “Yep. Are you?”

  His eyes were mere slits, and the sides of his mouth curved the slightest bit. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be a huge help if we ran into trouble, but at least I wouldn’t be alone.

  “Let’s do it.” He motioned for me to go ahead of him, and he followed behind as we walked into the castle’s courtyard that was hidden behind a tall, stone wall. As expected, the front entry door was locked, and as we rounded the back I saw painting supplies beside a partially opened window.

  I glanced at Shane. “You want to try it?”

  His eyes widened. “I don’t know. It looks kind of small. I don’t think I could squeeze through.”

  He could fit, but I was the one who wanted to see the castle. He was here at my invitation, and if he wanted to stay outside and play look-out, then that was fine with me.

  “Whistle if anyone comes, okay?”

  He nodded, looking relieved. “Okay. Be careful.”

  I pushed the window down, remembering when Ashley and I had sneaked out of my bedroom back home.

  I dangled from the window frame for a second, and then dropped down onto the floor. The smell of paint was nearly overwhelming, and across the room there was a ladder, which would come in handy if I needed to leave in a hurry.

  I walked out of the room and headed down a hallway that had black-and-white photos of landscapes, all in black frames with white matting.

  I came upon the spiral staircase and my heart started racing. The first landing was the entryway where visitors were greeted by an ancient-looking sword that was taller than I was. It had been carefully displayed against a tartan, in what I assumed must be the family’s colors. I hesitated, wondering what in the hell I was thinking. True, Ian had lived here hundreds of years ago, but it was someone else’s home now. What if there were hidden security cameras?

  Despite my misgivings, I pushed on. After all, it’s not like I was here to steal anything. I just wanted to see where Ian had lived.

  The first room I came to was an office. Plastic covered the bookcases, chairs, computer equipment and desks, and the smell of paint was very strong.

  The next doorway led into the dining room. I stepped inside, my heart hammering in my ears. A large table sat directly beneath a large, ornate golden chandelier. Near the fireplace were two red-velvet chairs and a coffee table.

  My eyes were drawn to the painting of a beautiful woman that hung above the fireplace, her resemblance to Ian unmistakable. She had the same dark hair, light blue eyes, and sensual lips. Was she his mother? It was impossible to know the age of the painting, and there was no nameplate or date to help me figure it out.

  Is this where Ian died, I wondered, imagining what the space must have looked like two centuries ago. Suddenly a strange pressure started in my chest and throat. I pressed my hand to my chest and winced.

  Was Ian here now?

  I headed for the stairs when a cold blast of air enveloped me. I stopped in my tracks and turned just in time to see a black figure dart across the room. Startled, I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out.

  As the seconds ticked by, a wave of uneasiness washed over me. “Ian,” I said, growing more restless by the second.

  There was no answer.

  I heard a loud whistle though, followed by the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel.

  Shit! I rushed out of the room and down the spiral staircase. My heart thundered in my ears as I raced into the room where Shane had his face up to the window. “Hurry,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

  I pulled the ladder over to the window and scrambled up and out. I closed the window, leaving it open a couple inches—just as I’d found it. Hopefully no one would be the wiser.

  A car door shut and Shane put his finger to his lips. A painter, dressed in white coveralls and work boots strode into the courtyard, whistling. We hung back while he unlocked the castle’s front door and stepped inside.

  After the entry door closed, we walked fast toward the entrance, out onto the lawn, keeping close to the wall, before rushing toward the trees.

  A strange chill worked its way along my spine, signaling we weren’t alone. A spirit was in the vicinity. I hoped it was Ian, but for some reason I didn’t think it was. The presence felt dark.

  “Fuckin’ A, that was close,” Shane said, looking back over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, it was.” I had to pick up my pace to keep in stride with him. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  “It was fun,” Shane said, even though his expression said something altogether different.

  We came upon the cemetery and that’s when I saw her—a girl about my age, sitting on the stone wall. She was a spirit, her figure not at all solid, but transparent. I could see her well enough to make out her strange style of clothing, and knew that, like Ian, she wasn’t from my time.

  She had long brown hair that fell in thick curls to her tiny waist. A plain green gown came to her ankles and she was barefoot. There was no expression at all on her pale face, but there was something intensely creepy about her dark eyes. I looked away, but knew with a sickening feeling I had stared too long.

  My thoughts were confirmed when she followed us across the road, and into the meadow which backed to the inn.

  I so didn’t want her following us home.

  My throat felt tight, and I found it harder to breathe by the second.

  I started choking, the tightening around my neck growing more intense by the second. Was the girl signaling to me she had died by way of strangulation?

  “Are you okay?” Shane asked, and I nodded, unable to form a reply.

  Miss Akin stepped outside onto the back porch, a basket of laundry propped on her hip. Seeing us, she waved.

  I waved back, never so relieved to see anyone. Maybe the ghost would leave—

  “Riiileeeey,” came a chilling whisper in my ear.

  The breath lodged in my throat, and when I turned, the ghost was gone.