Chapter 33
We skipped our fancy dinner. Marcus and I were both so excited to have some new piece of information to run with that all we wanted to do after we bid the old professor goodbye was get back to Cagair Castle so that we could settle in for a brainstorming session in the room Sydney had set aside for our study.
The long drive back went quickly as some of the stress we’d both been carrying for weeks seemed to have abated a little by Dougal’s words. If he was correct—if all the women needed to defeat Machara came together within a year—then it wasn’t a stretch to assume that despite our frustration now, we would eventually succeed in finding them.
“Do you think Olivia will still be up?” Marcus asked as he pulled the car to a stop in front of the castle that truly had begun to feel like a temporary home of sorts after so many months.
I nodded, playfully. “Oh yeah. I haven’t been able to pull her away from Netflix. She’s definitely sitting there with a bowl full of popcorn and a bottle of cherry soda binge-watching like crazy.”
Marcus laughed. “I think she’s already put on a good freshman fifteen.”
I gave him a quick disapproving look. “Maybe so, but at least she could afford to do so. But Marcus, never, ever say that to her.”
He turned shocked eyes on me. “You do remember that my best friends are women, right? I know better than to ever say anything to a woman about her weight. What’s she watching now?”
I smiled hesitantly as I braced for Marcus’ inevitable blowback. “She’s deep into season five of Friends.”
He frowned and rolled his eyes, disapprovingly, as I’d known he would. “I wouldn’t think that a girl born in seventeenth century Scotland would see the humor in Friends.”
I sighed.“Marcus, you are literally the only person I’ve ever met that dislikes that show. It’s funny. It’s timeless. Accept it.”
“I don’t care if it supposedly belonged to their grandmother or whatever—there’s no way they would’ve been able to afford an apartment that big in New York. And, believe it or not, black people do actually live in New York City.”
I grimaced at that. I had no good retort. “I know. Two totally fair points.” I unbuckled my seat belt and leaned over to kiss him. “Will you forgive me if I continue to adore that show?”
He laughed and turned to kiss me until I was entirely confident I was forgiven. “Of course. I know to try to convince you otherwise would be futile.”
I laughed and pulled away. “Let’s get inside and figure this thing out. We’re close. I can tell.”
“Knock. Knock.”
Near midnight—several hours into our think session in the study room—Sydney’s voice called to us through the closed door.
Please let her have food. Please let her have food. Please let her have food.
The silent plea played over in my mind as I stood to open the door for her. Sydney was a ridiculously good cook, and I’d not eaten since that morning. I was starving.
I nearly kissed her when I pulled open the door to see her carrying a large tray of leftovers from dinner. “You’re a saint, Sydney.”
She winked at me as she stepped inside and Marcus hurried to clear a spot on the table for the tray. “No. I just have a sixth sense for growling stomachs. Plus, I’ve been curious about what you learned today. How did it go?”
Marcus filled her in as I dug right in on the best Chicken Parmesan I’d ever had in my life. Thoughtlessly, I interrupted him as I moaned in delight.
“If you weren’t already married to Callum, I think I’d be down on one knee right now.”
Marcus snorted and reached for his plate as Sydney laughed.
“I’m so glad you like it—now what was it you were saying, Marcus?”
I bent to continue enjoying my food as Marcus finished relaying everything we’d learned from the professor.
Once he was finished, Sydney began to drum her fingers on the table in thought. “Hmm…so I suppose that’s what you guys are doing tonight? Trying to figure out the connection between all of the women who are to follow Kate and Laurel?”
I nodded with a mouthful of chicken.
“Well, count me in. I want to help.” She quickly stepped away from the table before turning back to the door. “But first, while you two finish your food, I’m going to go tell Callum that I won’t be to bed until late. Let’s regroup in fifteen.”
With Marcus’ mouth now as full as mine, we waved her on to go and see to her husband.
“We’ve been working on this for hours. It won’t surprise me one bit if Sydney comes in here and has it figured out in five minutes.”
I laughed as I finally forced myself to shove the plate away from me. If I didn’t stop soon, I would burst.
“Well, it’s very possible that we’ve been so close to it for so long that we can’t see what’s right in front of us. Plus, Sydney is wicked sharp. Either way, I’m open to any help we can get.”
He nodded in agreement. “Oh, me too.”
The sudden sound of footsteps running down the hallway caused both of us to glance toward the door. I was certain it would be Olivia. Sydney hadn’t possibly had time to find Callum yet.
To both of our surprise, it was Sydney who threw open the door.
“I’ve got it!”
Marcus stood and looked at her confused. “Got what?”
She threw up her hands in excitement. “How they’re all connected. It’s Morna, of course! The women aren’t following you and Laurel and Kate. They came before you. They’re already all there.”
“Huh?” It was literally the only thing I could think of to say. I didn’t know enough about this mysterious witch to follow Sydney’s train of thought.
“Morna can’t use her magic to help you all defeat Machara, but I think she’s already helped the women get where they needed to be to do so. It’s the others—the ones who already live in the past: Bri, Blaire, Mitsy, Grace, Kathleen, Jane, Laurel, Kate, and you—you are the nine!”
Marcus looked like he was about to fall over. “You’re right. You have to be right, but what about you and Gillian? Morna played a hand in your lives, as well.”
Sydney nodded as if she already had that all worked out. I was totally lost, but excitement built all the same. I could see that they were on to something. They could explain it all to me later.
“Yes, she did, but we live in the twenty-first century, not the seventeenth. All of the women you need to defeat Machara are already there. All we have to do is gather them up.”
Chapter 34
Morna’s Home - September – The Night of Ross’ Visit
* * *
Morna remained near the fire long after the strange man left. Her heart was heavy, her mind unsure. Had she been wrong to send him away without giving him what he wanted?
No. Despite the man’s grief, it wasn’t magic she could do without first speaking to his wife. Deep inside, she knew the wisdom of her actions, but God, how she’d wanted to help him.
“Who was it, lass?”
She turned at the sound of her husband’s voice as she motioned for Jerry to come and join her on the couch. She needed him near her, needed to lay her head down on his shoulder for the comfort his touch always provided her.
“I doona believe I ever got his real name, but I am certain I shall see him again.”
She sighed as Jerry lowered himself next to her. His cheeks were rosy from the heat of his bath, his smile relaxed as he pulled her in close.
“Are ye all right, love? Ye look as if this man troubled ye.”
Morna nodded as she allowed her head to relax on her husband’s shoulder. She supposed now it made perfect sense why she’d woken in a panic two days earlier—desperate to get home—in the middle of their Australian vacation. She was needed. She’d felt it so acutely, they’d packed up right away. Now she knew why.
“Aye, I suppose I am, though I shall play only a small part in this story.”
“Is this why we had t
o come back so quickly?”
“Aye, and I think ’tis time I let all those we love know we are home. I’ve a feeling they’ve been waiting for us for some time.”
The call had come in the middle of the night, but that didn’t stop Sydney from coming to our room straight away to tell us—Morna and Jerry were finally home.
It didn’t take long for all of us to see that Sydney had to be right about the other women. As a result, she’d sent her husband, Callum, along with Gillian’s husband, Orick, back to the seventeenth century to send word to all the women Morna had sent back to ask for their help.
It was a relief to know that one giant mystery was now solved, but we were still unable to return home.
Ross still had to be found, not only for my sake, but for the unanswered questions that The Eight had surrounding his powers. If there was any possibility that he could be the one to help save Freya, we had to find him.
It was abundantly clear that he had no intention of being found.
And so, while Callum and Orick went traveling throughout Scotland, we were in a state of purgatory, waiting for the famous Morna to return home.
Five hours after Sydney woke us with the news, we were in the car headed to Morna’s home. By the time we arrived, I was sick with nerves. From everything that I’d heard about her, I knew Morna was an incredibly powerful witch. If she couldn’t point us in the right direction for the spell that would save Freya, if she couldn’t help us find Ross, then I doubted anyone would be able to.
The old woman and a man I assumed was her husband were standing in the doorway by the time Marcus and I stepped out of the car.
“Marcus, lad,” Morna called after him. “Please tell me ye’ve forgiven me by now. I know I dinna send ye back in the gentlest way.”
I glanced over at Marcus to see him smiling, though I knew he was nervous about what we might learn from her, too.
“I’ve forgiven you. Though I’d prefer it if you never use any of your magic on me again.”
“Agreed.”
She pulled him into a giant hug as the old man next to her stepped around them to meet me.
“My name is Jerry, lass.”
I took his hand as I introduced myself. “I’m Silva. Thank you for letting us come over.”
He hurried to dismiss my gratitude as he kept ahold of my hand and led me inside. “Nonsense, lass. ’Tis always a pleasure when we have company.”
“Aye, lass. I’ve seen ye in my mind for some time now, though I know ye know nothing of me.”
I couldn’t begin to imagine what she meant by that, but I chose to ignore it as I allowed myself to be pulled into her welcoming embrace.
“I’ll not bore either of ye with chit chat. Sydney made it clear that ye’ve been waiting on us to return home. Ye have questions for me, and I have much to tell ye. Let’s not put it off another moment, aye?”
Pleased that she seemed intent to get right down to business, I reached behind for Marcus’ hand as we followed the elderly couple inside.
Marcus bent down to whisper in my ear. “Morna is a bit of a matchmaker. I suppose she’s had you picked out for me for awhile now.”
I made a mental note to inquire about that and much more at a later time as we stepped into the cozy living room and took our seats.
Marcus jumped right in with his questions. “Morna, who are the nine women capable of defeating Machara? I know you like to take your time meddling and moving people around to wherever and whenever you think they need to be, but there’s someone on The Isle that we all care about very much. We are running out of time to save her.”
Morna gave Marcus a gentle smile. At the same time, I reached out to gently squeeze his knee. He might have forgiven Morna, but I still didn’t get the feeling that he was overly fond of her.
“My timing has nothing to do with it, lad. I made a promise to a friend long ago to help defeat her in whatever way I could without unintentionally aiding Machara through the use of magic. My part in all of this is nearly complete.”
He continued to prod her. “So the nine are already there? It’s the women you’ve already sent back?”
She nodded. “Yes, but ye are wrong about one thing, Marcus. The legend says that magical beings such as ye and I canna defeat Machara, that her demise must come at the hands of mortal women. It doesna say anywhere that these mortal women canna use magic to defeat her.”
“What?”
Marcus and I both asked the question in unison. How could mortal women—women without magical powers—use magic to defeat Machara?
“Think on it. Deep down ye already know. What is the one thing that would truly set each and every one of The Eight free?”
I knew right away as I looked at Marcus and thought back on what he’d told me just before we traveled forward through time.
They would have to give it up.
The Eight would have to sacrifice their magic and become entirely mortal once again.
It only took a second for Marcus to catch up with me, and as was no surprise, he didn’t flinch in response. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to see this all finally finished.
“Great. What do we have to do?”
Morna stood and moved to a shelf next to her fireplace. She latched onto an old book, took a quick look at it, and extended it in Marcus’ direction.
“’Tis a simple spell. One ye can all do together once ye return home. It shall hurt like hell, but ye will all survive it, though I’m certain there are some among ye that will struggle with the loss of such power.”
A thought occurred to me as I watched Marcus look down at the open spell. The Eight hadn’t truly been eight since I’d known them. For over a year, Paton had been locked away in the land of the Fae. He wouldn’t be free for almost another two years.
I spoke up, my voice shaking from what I knew had to be true.
“We will have to have the magic of eight men, yes?”
Morna nodded, and I could see in her gaze that our thoughts were on the same path.
“Aye.”
“But there are only seven of them.”
She didn’t break eye contact with me as she spoke. “There is another with magic who should have been with them all along. I believe I met him last night.”
I could scarcely breathe as I realized that I was sitting in a space Ross had so recently occupied. It made the fact that I knew he was alive seem so much more real, and I realized that I wasn’t nearly as prepared to handle all of this as I thought.
“Ross?”
She gave me a sad smile. “Is that his real name, then? Aye, lass. Ross.”
Chapter 35
She thought she was his. Marcus knew that she loved him. He knew that she wanted to give him every piece of her heart, but she wasn’t there yet, no matter how much he wanted her to be.
He could see it in the way she winced when Morna mentioned meeting another with magic only the night before, and the way she’d said his name had been like a dagger through his heart.
They knew what they needed to do to save Freya. He would drag that bastard Ross back to the seventeenth century kicking and screaming if he had to, but all of that was talk for another day. The moment Ross’ name was mentioned, the evening became Silva’s. She needed to hear anything that Morna could tell her. She needed answers that he couldn’t give her. So as he braced for words he knew would hurt him, words he knew would threaten all that they’d built together over the past year, he sat back and allowed himself to blend in with the furniture.
He would listen with his whole heart. He would gauge Silva’s every expression, and he would hope with all he had that by the time this night was over, he would have some clarity about the best way to help the woman he so desperately loved.
“Ross was here, Morna? Do you know him? Why would he come to you?”
He didn’t miss the way Morna cast a cautious glance at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. This wasn’t about him. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable this might m
ake him. She needed to hear it—it was about her—and that was enough to make him capable of handling anything.
“No, I doona know him, lass. Last night was the first time I ever laid eyes on him. And although he used a different name, I know ’twas Ross. I can see the anger ye have for him in yer eyes, Silva. I doona blame ye, but mayhap ye wish to know some of what ye doona, aye?”
Marcus couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He didn’t want to see the hurt in her eyes, and he didn’t want her to take notice of him and refrain from speaking freely.
He only knew she nodded when Morna began to speak again.
“Yer husband was wrong to do what he did. He should have trusted ye. He should have told ye what he saw that day he decided to fake his own death. He should have allowed ye to make the choice on yer own. I canna say what made him do as he did, but I can tell ye this: it broke his heart to leave ye, and there hasna been a day since he parted from ye that he hasna hated himself for it.”
Marcus had to bite down on his own lip to keep himself from gathering her up in his arms when she broke down into sobs.
It never occurred to me that Ross hadn’t wanted to leave me. The moment I learned he was alive, I felt rejected, unwanted, and used. How could you love someone the way I thought he’d loved me and then leave? What could have possibly torn him away?
I struggled to speak between sobs as confusion overtook every other thought in my mind. “Then why did he leave me? It doesn’t make any sense.”
She sighed, and I could see she was reluctant to answer me. “I will tell ye as I told him. There is unfinished business between ye. He should be the one to answer any questions ye have.”
“But why was he here? Why did he come to see you?”
I was having difficulty breathing. My chest hurt, my head felt light. I bent down to put my head in between my legs.
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