His teeth clenched, Brodie glared down his nose at the angry redhead fuming in his face. “I’m sworn to secrecy. I’ve taken a vow. I canna tell ye anymore.”
“Oh Brodie, enough! I’ve taken no oath. I’ll tell her what she needs to know.” Fiona edged her way over to the sphere and slid it across the table to Trish. “Trish Sullivan, I’d like ye to meet Latharn MacKay, the man who’s in love with Nessa Buchanan and destined to be her husband.” As she turned the pulsating crystal toward the center of the room, Fiona acknowledged Latharn’s globe with a flourish.
Latharn straightened, every sense alert, watching Trish for any sign of panic. He bided his time, waiting to see her reaction before he made his presence known. Over the centuries, he’d learned the value of timing. It made all the difference in the world.
Trish looked at them all with an expression that said she thought they’d all lost their minds. Stroking her chin, she circled the table, studying the ancient stand and the mystical carvings decorating every side of the stand supporting the globe. With a nod toward the crystal, she took a deep breath as she looked into the MacKays’ worried eyes. “Okay. I’ll bite. What’s the legend say about this thing? What exactly is it I need to know?”
His arms folded across his chest. Brodie gave her his back. He turned his face to the drawing room window and refused to speak a word. As if on cue, Fiona stepped forward. “Six hundred years ago there existed a powerful young mystic by the name of Latharn MacKay.” Fiona traced her finger around the glowing crystal, her fingers shadowed in the violet light. “He was quite handsome and…shall we say, very skilled in pleasuring the lasses. All the maids fought to be the one to warm his bed each night.”
“Sounds like Latharn MacKay was my kind of man,” Trish interrupted with a grin.
Her eyes wide, Fiona shuddered as she continued. “He made the fatal mistake of bedding a powerful, dark sorceress. One who was determined to win his heart. When she found Latharn unable to share his love, she imprisoned him within this crystal instead.”
Trish planted her hands on either side of the globe and peered deeper into the crystal. Reaching out, she turned the orb in its stand, obviously studying the swirls of energy at its core. “So, if she couldn’t have him, then she made sure nobody else could. Why didn’t she just kill him?”
Brodie exploded as he whirled from where he stood at the window. “Do ye no have a vindictive bone in your body? Wouldn’t ye rather torture someone who’s done ye wrong instead of give them a quick and easy death?”
Trish clasped her hands behind her back and remained bent over the crystal ball. With a shrug of one shoulder, she leaned even closer as if mesmerized by the energy whorls.
“I guess I never quite thought of it that way. But I must admit, what you say does have some merit.” She straightened and circled around the table, with a nod for Fiona to continue the tale.
With a shaking breath, Fiona drew closer to the table. “Before taking her own life, his mother found the secret to the curse. Rachel was a powerful white bana-buidhseach herself. But she only used her powers for good. She discovered for Latharn to once again walk among his clan, he must be called forth by the one woman capable of winning his love.”
Trish frowned, looking up from the globe where her eyes met Fiona and Brodie’s watchful gaze. “Nessa?”
They nodded.
“Okay. There are just a few things I’d like for you to clear up.” Trish picked up the globe, turning it about in her hands as she squinted deeper into the swirling depths. “First, how do you know Nessa’s the one? Second, if she doesn’t know about him, how’s she going to call out to him in a loving way to somehow break this spell?”
“I’m no’ a child’s bauble to be shaken about. Set me down and I’ll explain it to ye as best as I can.” Latharn stumbled against the glass as he released his voice to echo into the room.
“Christ! It talks.” Trish settled the globe on the table as though it were a ticking bomb.
“I am no’ an it. I am Latharn MacKay and I would appreciate if ye would take a bit more care with the wee crystal tomb.” Latharn increased the violet aura as his energy pulsated throughout the room.
Trish crept away from the flashing orb and wiped her hands on the seat of her pants. Raising her hand to her chest, her mouth opened and closed without making any sounds.
Latharn had seen this reaction before. As long as Trish didn’t bolt, he’d have time to explain. He kept his voice to a soothing echo, accented with the pulsating lights. “I have known my Nessa since before she took her current physical form. I’ve waited for over six hundred years for her soul to choose a body and decide to join us on this plane of existence. I’ve been walking her dream plane since the summer her parents broke her spirit.”
Latharn paced the globe and allowed his energy to swirl about the room. His voice strengthened and the light pulsed as he explained the mystery to Trish as best he could.
“Nessa doesn’t realize I truly exist for the curse has prevented me from ever speaking to her while I walk in her dreams. She thinks I’m but a creation of her imagination, brought on by years of loneliness and pain.”
Trish finally found her voice. “Then we’ll just tell her. We’ll tell her what she needs to say and then you two can live happily ever after.”
With a sorrowful shake of her head, Fiona linked her arm through Brodie’s as they both gathered around the table.
“Trish, we canna tell her about Latharn and neither can you. The dark witch was quite shrewd when she cast her spell. Nessa must whisper her love to Latharn and call him forth without any prompting from anyone else. If anyone reveals the details of the curse to Nessa, the globe will shatter and send Latharn’s soul into the eternal abyss.”
A frustrated scowl crossed Trish’s face as she paced around the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me. How in the world are we going to get her to whisper him out of that thing without telling her how to do it? I can’t even get her to follow explicit instructions on how to power down her laptop when I give them to her word for word!”
With a deep sigh, Brodie kissed the top of Fiona’s head and pulled her close. “We can only hope the goddess will finally smile upon our family as she did when our clan followed the Old Ways.”
Circling the table, Trish studied the globe as though plotting how to kill it. “Wouldn’t she be more likely to whisper to this thing, if we kept it constantly in her presence?”
Scooping up the witch’s ball, Brodie held it protected against his chest. “A MacKay must always be the caretaker of the crystal orb. It must always reside in a clan member’s home.”
“Why?” Trish huffed, scowling at Brodie as though she were about to snatch the orb out of his grasp.
“The curse,” Fiona retorted. “The black witch was no’ the fool. She knew no one could tell the intended woman how to break the curse but she also wanted to ensure the globe would never accidently become the woman’s possession…the less likely for it to hear her muse.”
“Set me down, Brodie. I tire of being tossed about,” Latharn roared from the depths of his tomb.
Brodie immediately settled Latharn back to the center of the table, his face flaming at Latharn’s scolding.
“Well, dammit!” Trish paced around the table centered in the modest sitting room. With a look of determination, she spread her hands on either side of the globe and peered into the pulsating ball. Latharn spread his hands on the frigid walls of his prison and eyed her back. “Well then, that leaves us no other choice. Either the two of you have to move in with us, or we have to move in with you. Either way, Nessa will be around that thing enough to start talking to it and will accidentally say what the curse needs to hear.”
“Would ye kindly stop referring to me as that thing?” Latharn calmed the lights emitting from the sphere, lowering them to a serene flicker about the room. Trish’s reasoning pleased him. Her unwillingness to let the puzzle go meant he had another ally outside of his prison walls.
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Trish shrugged a shoulder with a sheepish grin. “Sorry. No offense. But it’s hard for me to relate to something that looks like a yard ornament from my grandmother’s garden.”
At Trish’s retort, Latharn’s laughter rumbled like thunder rippling through the room. He intensified the aura to a blinding cloud as his energy centralized in the air just above the sparkling globe. For the first time in several hundred years, he projected the image of his face within the aura. He allowed them to see his amused eyes echoing his flashing smile.
“Thank ye, Trish, for being the first one to give me a hearty laugh in well over five hundred years.”
“Wow.” Breathless, Trish stared at Latharn’s visage, suspended in the air above the globe. “I wish I could whisper you out of that thing. No wonder she trapped you in there.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Trish, are you sure they’ve decreased our housing stipend? I just saw a letter stating they were increasing our grant money since the documentation of the fifteenth-century claymore.”
Nessa sat at the desk with her chin propped in her hand, trying not to fall out of her seat. Her eyes were so gritty they felt like they’d dropped in a child’s sandbox and been shoved back in her head. Exhaustion pounded at the back of her skull and ached through all her muscles.
Trish nodded, reaching across the desk to slide all the mail out of Nessa’s reach. “I got the call this morning. We’re going to have to move out of the inn. The sooner we’re out the better.”
Nessa rubbed her face. Trish’s words didn’t make any sense but maybe it was because she was so tired. “I guess we’ll just have to stay here at the site full time then. We can sleep on the cots in the back. We’ve been sleeping here off and on anyway. We’ll just have to make it permanent.”
“There’s another option we might consider.” Trish nervously shuffled papers from one desk to the other. “The other day when I was having tea with the MacKays, they asked me if I knew of any of our students who might be looking to rent a room.”
Nessa pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her stinging eyes. They burned like two orbs of glowing hot embers. She hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she couldn’t remember when. The one night she’d taken the sleeping pills, she’d spent it trying to flee from the Highlander in her dreams. Her feet had been like two blocks of solid concrete plowing through a swamp. She’d managed to keep just out of his reach, but she’d been terrified she’d fall into his hands. His weapon was gone, but fury flashed in his eyes, a storm threatening to unleash at any moment.
For some odd reason, she’d gotten the distinct impression that she’d angered him by trying to escape his visits with a drug-induced sleep. Somehow, he’d overpowered the drugs and pulled her from the dark, fuzzy depths. She’d struggled against him. She’d pounded on his chest until she’d finally wrenched free of his grasp. She’d struggled and pushed her weighted feet into an endless run. She’d awakened gasping when she’d barely escaped him.
Since that nightmare, she’d forced herself to spend the night’s upright in a chair. She’d struggle through the hours, dozing just enough to function the following day. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to keep this up; all she knew was she dare not fall asleep. Who knew what might happen the next time he showed up in her dreams?
“Nessa!” Trish tapped a chisel on the desk, pulling Nessa from her daze. “How long has it been since you’ve slept? Really slept...in a bed…lying down?”
“I’ve lost track,” Nessa mumbled, rising from the desk to refill her already full coffee cup. She rubbed her forehead and tried to concentrate on what Trish had said about the rent. “I’ll be fine. Now what were you saying about the MacKays? They’ve got a room to rent?”
Trish bit her lip and nodded. “Yep. It’s roomy enough for the both of us and just a quarter of what we’re paying at the inn.”
Nessa shrugged into her jacket and waved a weak hand. Maybe she’d been wrong about that letter. She was so tired. She didn’t know if she was coming or going. “Fine. Do whatever. Just point me in the right direction when it’s time to leave the site.” Donning a scarf against the chill of the dying sun, Nessa slipped on her sunglasses to hide what she knew were her bloodshot eyes. “I’m going for a walk around the sites. When I get back, we can call it a day.”
“No problem,” Trish replied with a smile. She picked up her cell phone as Nessa stumbled toward the door. “We’re all set. If you can swing by and pick up our bags today then we’ll be your new tenants tonight.”
Ignoring as Trish murmured to someone about bags, Nessa paused just outside the door. She filled her lungs with a deep breath of the sharp, clean air. She hoped to find a miraculous revitalizer somewhere in the stiff Highland breeze. The day was clear and unusually cool for so early in the afternoon. Nessa welcomed the chill. It would keep her awake and help her concentrate in her current state of exhaustion.
Nessa scanned around the dig at the various cordoned-off sites. She sighed as she watched the students milling about. From where Nessa stood, not one of them looked like they had a care in the world other than striving to be the first one to come up with the next big find.
Nessa decided against wandering among the students. She was in no mood or condition for small talk of any kind. She did good just to stay on her feet. Turning toward the open field, Nessa pulled her collar closer about her face. She scanned the horizon and found herself drawn to a peaceful-looking grove of pines.
Nessa picked her way into the heart of the inviting thicket. A gurgling spring broke free from the earth and tumbled down into a deep, tranquil pool. The clear water bubbled forth from the depths of a massive limestone fissure, the opening hollowed by years of the running water. Ancient Picts had fashioned out an altar from the great stone shelf where it protruded from the bank. Nessa recognized the triple spirals and the serene face of the woman peering out at her from the center of the ancient stone. This was a shrine to honor the blessed mother goddess. The people would have worshipped the well for its healing powers.
Nessa knelt upon the mossy embankment. She took a deep breath and splashed the icy, sweet water upon her face. The sting of weariness disappeared from her grainy eyes. Her exhaustion evaporated. She felt more rested then she had in days.
“Thank you. I needed to find this place,” she murmured to the peaceful image. As she looked into the serene gaze of the goddess’s face upon the stone, Nessa sighed and bowed her head. She’d sought this tranquility for days. No Gabriel. No Highlander. No students buzzing around her with a thousand mind-numbing questions that she was in no condition to field. She toyed with the thought of returning to the encampment to get her sleeping bag and bring it here to spend the night at the side of the pool.
The snap of twigs and the rustling of dried pine boughs tore her attention away from the pool. The sounds came from the bushes on the other side of the pool. Nessa wondered if it were some sort of animal looking to quench its thirst in the cold waters of the crystal spring.
A woman eased her way out of the trees. She hesitated, her deep, violet eyes scanning the clearing as though searching for an item she’d lost. Nessa wondered who she could be and why she was so oddly dressed. Her flowing hair glinted with silver, hanging in heavy tresses to her waist. She wore a thick velvet cloak clenched at her throat with a pale, delicate hand. Her cloak covered her entire body. The hood fell back upon her shoulders. The garment was so long even her feet disappeared from view.
Her wandering gaze settled upon Nessa. She smiled in recognition. Her eyes sparkled, crinkling at the corners. She nodded her head in greeting as she made her way around the pool.
“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to find Brid’s special place.”
Confused, Nessa rose to her feet as she peered closer into the woman’s face. “Have we met?” The woman had a nagging sense of familiarity about her but Nessa was certain she’d never seen her before.
“Not exactly,” the wom
an replied with the slightest shake of her head. She smiled as she circled Nessa as though she were a newly acquired possession. “Let’s just say, I’m familiar with the history of this area and I thought I could be of some help to you in your quest.”
She thought she understood. Nessa smiled her polite visiting-archeologist smile. This woman was obviously an eccentric local who’d heard about the research of the Durness sites.
“Ah, I see. Thank you. But currently, we’re cataloging items from the Bronze Age. I appreciate your searching me out but I’m afraid I’m more interested in a bit further back along the timeline then you might realize. My specialty isn’t this area’s more recent history.”
A knowing smile curled the side of her mouth as the woman gazed out across the pond. “The Highlander from your dreams is not from the Bronze Age. He’s from the Scotland of 1410.”
Nessa almost choked as her throat constricted. She clapped her hand to her chest. How could this woman know about her dreams? She’d never seen her before. She’d never told anyone except Trish about the nightly visits from her Highlander.
“Who are you?” Her voice trembling, Nessa struggled against the swell of uneasiness in her chest. She edged her way closer to the mysterious woman who now stood at the mouth of the well.
“A friend,” the woman replied, with a mysterious smile reflected in the water. Her shoulders shrugged inward as she tightened her cloak. With a lingering sigh, she continued as she turned toward Nessa. “Your Highlander’s name is Latharn MacKay, and you must know he would never harm you. He cannot speak while in your dreams. But if you take the time to look into his heart, you will know everything he needs to say.”
Nessa’s body chilled to the bone by the eeriness of the woman’s words. Was this woman a ghost? A seer? A psychic? She peered closer at her. Relief flooded through Nessa’s mind when the woman appeared as solid and as much of this world as Nessa herself.
Beyond A Highland Whisper Page 10