“Brodie!” Fiona scolded. “Gabriel is no’ an evil bastard, Nessa. But Trish did mention ye weren’t quite as taken with him as ye had first thought when the two of ye had just met.”
Since when did everyone have full rights to her love life? Nessa fumed, her aggravation tightening in her chest. “That still doesn’t give her license to interfere. I’ve talked to her about this before.” She slid her over-stuffed backpack across the floor and propped it against the counter. When she did, the hypnotic pulse of the glowing witch’s ball captured her eye.
Mesmerized, Nessa’s irritation with Trish disappeared as she gazed into the swirling purple vortex. She cupped the globe between her hands and sank into its endless depths. Nothing else in the room existed. The whirling energy captivated her within its dancing lights.
Fiona elbowed Brodie and nodded toward Nessa. “Look at the aura. The light surrounds her. It’s as though the globe cradles her in its energy.”
With a nervous cough as though to clear his throat, Brodie tapped the counter beside the globe. “What do ye think of our wee bauble here? It’s been in the MacKay family for years.”
Nessa tore her attention from the vibrating energy. She found it difficult to look up from the crystal orb. “Oh it’s…it’s lovely. I don’t know why but it seems to draw me into it. It’s as though the lights are dancing to some silent song.” She trailed her fingertips across the surface. Nessa smiled as the energy patterns changed with her touch. “Look! The lights are following wherever I touch. It’s almost as if it’s following my fingertips. How does it do that?” The glass felt warm. She swore it pulsed as though it had a heartbeat.
Brodie’s lips twitched. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never seen the globe react that way before. Not in all the years I’ve had it in my possession.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. Nessa touched the ball again. The light sprang from within its core in response to her touch. “Really? I wonder why it responds to me. You said it’s been in your family for years. What’s its story? Where did it originate?”
Fiona edged her way between Brodie and the counter. “They say it was given to Laird MacKay and his wife, Rachel, in the early 1400s. They were the laird and lady of clan MacKay at that time. The globe has been protected and passed down through the family since that era until it came to be Brodie’s and mine.”
The dancing lights entranced her senses. Nessa had to drag herself away from the counter. The globe drew her in. It mesmerized her and made her feel as if she floated on a cloud of purple down.
“It’s addictive. I could gaze into that thing forever. It’s so hypnotic. It’s almost as though it’s alive. Who gave it to Laird MacKay and his wife? Some sort of wizard maybe?”
Her fingers trembling, Fiona smoothed her hands across the top of the counter and dusted around the globe. “No one knows the true identity of the giver. That information seems to have been lost.” Brodie coughed and shuffled his feet, backing away from the edge of the counter.
Nessa couldn’t resist a mischievous grin at Fiona as she bent to retrieve her bag. “Wouldn’t it be great if it was like a genie’s lamp? We could just tell it our deepest desires and poof...our wildest dreams would come true.”
Brodie’s eyes bulged; he coughed and wheezed until tears streamed down his face.
“Brodie! Are you okay?” Nessa dropped her bag and rushed around the counter. Brodie’s face flamed a bright cherry red.
Thumping him on the back, Fiona waved her away. “Oh he’s fine. He just gets choked verra easily sometimes.” With a smile, she nodded in the direction of the globe. “Now wouldn’t that be grand if that crystal ball was just like you said! Our verra own wishing ball. Perhaps that’s what it was meant to be all along and it was just forgotten down through the passage of time.”
Fiona pulled a box of tissues from under the counter and shoved them into Brodie’s chest. Turning back to Nessa, her eyes sparkled and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if it were such a magical thing? What would be one of your dearest wishes? What would ye ask of the ball?”
Nessa paused before hefting her bag up on her shoulder, half-tempted to play along. Wouldn’t it be great if she could wish her nocturnal Highlander into reality and fall right into his arms? Wouldn’t that be her lifelong dream come true? Who was she kidding? That’s the stuff fairy tales were made of. Her old self-preservation habits kicked in at the last minute and she recoiled back inside her carefully constructed shell. Settling her backpack on her shoulder, Nessa shuttered her emotions as well. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve pretty much got everything I need.”
Fiona’s face fell at Nessa’s reply. “Ah well…then ye truly are blessed. Ye not only have everything ye need but ye’re wise enough to know it.”
Sure she did. Nessa turned toward the door. She wasn’t about to share her deepest desires with the MacKays. They were a kind and generous couple who she felt certain would become friends. However, she just wasn’t ready to open up and bare her soul. She’d learned at a young age that when you shared your innermost thoughts and feelings it only exposed you to painful barbs. In her experience, Trish was the only person who’d never hurt her and she just wasn’t brave enough right now to enlarge that elite circle of trust.
Remembering the words of the mysterious woman at the goddess well, Nessa paused and turned back into the room. “By the way, do either of you happen to remember any stories about an ancestor of yours by the name of Latharn MacKay?”
A new fit of coughing seized Brodie, his hands flying to his chest as panic registered in his eyes. Fiona renewed her pounding on her husband’s back, her eyes wide as she replied, “Latharn MacKay? Why do ye ask? What have ye heard about the name?”
The lights in the sphere danced into hyper-drive. The agitated energy of the orb bounced off the walls, reflecting off every item lining the shelves. Nessa dropped her bag back to the floor and stared at the vibrating globe. She edged her way toward the counter. Uneasiness stirring in the pit of her stomach, her skin tingled at the reaction of the lights.
“Latharn MacKay,” she whispered, leaning closer. She waited for the globe’s response. Violent purple energy shot from the globe. It crackled and filled the entire room.
“Look at that. It’s like the light responds to his name,” Nessa whispered and spun on her heel. Watching the frustrated energy spark about the room, she grew breathless with anticipation. It bounced from the windows, to the ceiling, to the floor, and on every reflective surface in between. Her skin tingled with excitement, every hair stood on end as Nessa called out to the traveling light. “Latharn MacKay, are you in this room?”
The energy responded and concentrated into one spot. It caressed and swirled about her body. A familiar stroke brushed her cheek. Nessa recognized the warmth of this touch. This comforting embrace had pleasured her many times from her Highlander in her dreams.
“You’re real,” Nessa whispered, a shiver of recognition rippling across her skin. “You’re not just in my dreams.”
The aura surrounded her, swirling, touching. The essence warmed gentle feather strokes against her skin, swaddling her in a cloud of vibrating color. The cursed globe sat poised, squatted on its pedestal, the colors flowing freely from its center.
Her heart hammering so hard she couldn’t breathe, Nessa fought against her rising hysteria. Backing away from the ball, apprehension churned inside her like a mounting storm. In all her years, in all her finds, she’d never come across any artifact as powerful as this crystal appeared.
“What is this thing?” She nudged her chin in the direction of the globe as she stole a glance at Brodie and Fiona.
Shaking their heads, they remained silent. They just stood there, mouths clamped shut, watching Nessa and the globe.
Nessa gritted her teeth, trying to remember to breathe as she edged her way toward the door. Whatever was happening with the wildly glowing crystal, it was eerie and she wanted it to stop.
Fiona recogn
ized that Nessa was about to bolt. She rushed from around the counter to pat her on the arm. “It’s all right, Nessa. Dinna fear. It’s just a wee energy ball that reacts to the static in the room. If ye look out the door, ye will see it’s about to storm. We figured that out a few years back when we first brought it into our home.”
Glancing out the window, Nessa almost wilted at the sight of the darkening clouds. Fiona was right. Nessa blew out a breath of relief as lightning splintered through the blackened banks of thunderheads. She spun on her heel and shot Brodie a withering glare as she poked a finger in his chest with every word. “Then why did you say you’d never seen it respond to anyone’s touch like it did mine? Out with it, Brodie!”
Brodie backed away and struggled to apologize. “I was merely teasing ye. ’Twas just a wee bit of Scottish superstition meant to lighten your day. Forgive me, Nessa, I meant ye no harm.”
Nessa scooped her bag up and slung it over her shoulder. “Oh, ha ha. Let’s make a sucker out of the silly American. Very funny.” With a yank on the door, she laughed at herself and the tension eased out of her chest. “If Trish shows back up any time soon, tell her I’ve decided to take a cab to the dig. She can pick me up there and then we’ll go over to the pub and finish off Mr. Gabriel Burns.”
As Nessa stepped out into the street, she cringed as lightning pealed down through the clouds. It struck so close the air reeked of sulfur. Leaning against the doorway, Nessa covered her ears against the deafening thunderclap that shook the ground. A tree split in front of her, bursting into flames as each half crashed to the ground. Pinned back against the building, she wiggled her way back to the door and slipped her way inside.
“Are ye all right?” Fiona rushed to her side, grabbing her shoulders as she searched Nessa’s pale face.
Nessa nodded as she brushed the singed leaves from her hair and blew a burnt leaf off the end of her nose. “Whew! I’ve always loved thunderstorms but that one was a little close for comfort. Looks like I’ll be waiting for Trish here in the shop.”
Just at that moment, Trish pulled up in the jeep and parked it a good distance from the burning tree. She fanned the smoke out of her face as she slipped into the shop. Motioning toward the blaze, she brushed the ash from her clothes. “Have you guys called the fire department yet?”
Brodie shook his head as he looked out the window. “No need. The rain is dousing the flames. ’Tis coming down in sheets.”
With the downpour and the water rising in the storm drains, Nessa tossed her bag onto the floor with a sigh. They weren’t going anywhere in this weather. The trip to the pub was out. She turned to the MacKays and Trish with a shrug of her shoulders. “Anybody want to play cards?”
Chapter Eighteen
“You had her that close and you couldn’t trick her into saying it? You couldn’t get her to call him out of that ball?” Trish paced back and forth in front of Brodie and Fiona, then turned and tapped on the top of Latharn’s sphere. “And you! They said you frightened her. Maybe if you had toned down the light show a little bit she wouldn’t have headed for the door. Did you ever think of that?”
Latharn bellowed from his crystal cell, sending the lasers cutting across the walls. “I will not be spoken to in such a manner.” He rumbled the globe across the table, disappeared, and reappeared on a shelf across the room. He didn’t care if Trish was Nessa’s best friend or not. The woman would not scold him as though he were a child. Latharn glared at them from across the room. He would watch them from the mantel above the fireplace.
Brodie pounded his fist on the table and made his own defense to Trish. “We dared not speak any more than we did for fear of sending Latharn’s soul into the abyss.” Raking his hands through his red hair, he jumped to stalk about the room.
Latharn sympathized with his descendant. Trish obviously understood very little about Scottish curses. One wrong word, one wrong move and your arse sizzled in eternal hell.
Trish resumed her pacing, while massaging her temples. “Is this curse written down in some ancient text somewhere? Maybe recorded in a family journal? Or were all the details just passed down word of mouth from one generation to the next?”
Latharn spun the globe to improve his view and leaned against the glass. What was Trish looking for? They already knew how to break the curse. Nessa had to whisper his release. “Why do ye want the texts, Trish? What good will reading the grimoire do?”
Brodie jerked his chin toward the globe. “I agree with Cousin Latharn. I see no point in reviewing the curse, but we do have it recorded here. There’s an ancient journal written in Rachel MacKay’s own hand listing everything she discovered about the curse. But I don’t see what good it will do to go over it again. ’Tis just a waste of time.”
Trish’s eyes narrowed into plotting slits as she leaned back into her chair. “The way I figure it, a curse is like a contract. All we have to do is find the loophole. I handle all the contracts for our digs. The contract lawyers hate me. I have a knack for seeing loopholes.” She offered a saucy smirk.
“This is no contract, Trish. It’s a complicated curse spelled by a powerful dark bana-buidhseach.” Fiona handed each of them a cup of tea from the tray she balanced on one hip.
Tea. Latharn cringed. They should drink ale or at the very least mulled wine when they plotted a battle. Now, what had Trish said about contracts and curses?
“You’ve obviously never been around many contract lawyers,” Trish retorted with a grin. “So, have you got this journal here or what? Is there any way I could get a look at it or is it locked away in someone’s library?”
With a shrug of agreement from Fiona, Brodie ceased his restless pacing and headed to the built-in bookshelves lining the opposite wall of the room. He pushed aside several trinkets and baubles to reveal the combination lock of a safe. Brodie unlocked the safe and swung the door aside. He lifted a leather-bound book from the box.
Latharn stared at the journal from across the room and drew a ragged breath. The sight of the book nearly knocked the wind from his chest. It had been one of his mother’s last grimoires. They had spoken every day until the morning before she’d leapt to her death. He’d pleaded with her not to take her life. Latharn choked against the painful memory of her final words. She had told him she couldn’t bear life without Caelan. Latharn had never understood the depths of her pain until he’d found his Nessa.
Brodie set the book on the table in front of Trish. “This is the last journal of Rachel MacKay. The faded purple ribbon marks the passage about Latharn’s curse.”
Trish held her hands over the well-worn book. As she opened the journal to the designated spot, Latharn watched her mouth drop open in surprise. “This is in English. Modern English. Is this supposed to be some kind of hoax? I thought you said this came from the 1400s.”
Brodie MacKay hissed as he turned from the window. “Rachel MacKay was not from the past. She was a time traveler from the year 2008.”
Trish’s hands dropped into her lap as she leaned back in her chair. “What you’re saying can’t possibly be true. This MacKay history just keeps getting wilder. How could a woman from the year 2008 be the mother of a man from 1410? You cannot be serious.”
“I can and I am,” Brodie challenged, his chin jutting into the air.
“He speaks the truth,” Latharn added from his globe shimmering on the shelf.
Fiona stepped between them shaking her head, holding up her hands for silence. “It’s a long story, Trish, that of Rachel and Caelan and how they came to be joined. Suffice it to say, they were meant to be together and nothing, not even time or space, could ever keep them apart.”
“Trish,” Latharn said. “Sometimes knowing in your heart is all the matters. There are many things in this world and beyond that are yet to be explained.”
Her eyes widened in amazement. Trish looked up from the journal, disbelief written on her face. “This story just keeps getting better. Time travelers, witches, and cursed Highlanders in a ball. I
s there anything else I need to know?”
Fiona pointed at the faded words upon the page. “That should just about cover it. Now can ye read Rachel’s inscriptions? The dark outline, there. That surrounds the part about the curse.”
Trish leaned closer to study the faded pages. She ran her finger back and forth just above the words, keeping space between herself and the yellowed page. “Okay. Here’s the part about Latharn not being allowed to speak to Nessa so that he can’t tell her how to break the curse.”
Latharn watched impatiently as her lips moved while she read.
“And here’s the part about no one of MacKay descent being allowed to tell her how to break the curse.” Her mouth fell open. Trish lifted her head. “I can tell her.”
“No.” Brodie’s hands clenched into fists. “Ye will shatter the crystal and Latharn will be lost. Ye must not break the terms.”
For the first time in centuries, hope surged through Latharn’s body at the excitement in Trish’s voice.
“Don’t you see, Brodie? I am not of MacKay descent. Therefore, it doesn’t apply to me.” Trish eased the book closed as she hastened to explain, “Only those of the MacKay line are forbidden to reveal the way to Nessa’s true love. I’m a mutt. I traced my family tree once and trust me, there’s not a drop of Scottish blood flowing in these veins.”
“It canna be that simple.” Fiona dropped into a chair. “Then we wasted our chance. I could’ve told the lass yesterday when she was so close to calling him out.”
Trish shook her head, in disagreement. “No. You did the right thing by keeping the pact and holding your tongue. When you married Brodie, technically, you became a MacKay. If you had said any more to Nessa then what I understood you to say, the crystal would’ve disintegrated along with his soul.”
Latharn shouted, “Then go get her! What the hell are ye waiting for?” He beat on the glass, rattling the globe across the length of the mantel. Could it be this simple? Could Nessa’s friend tell her what she needed to do?
Beyond A Highland Whisper Page 12