Highland Savior

by Sarah Hoss

  A horn honked as it drove past, causing her to jump. Her nerves were drawn as tight as bow strings. Stopping at the intersection, she waited for the cars to clear. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed 9-1-1.

  She shifted her feet. Chancing a glance behind her, she spotted two rough-looking men. They’d lost her. One of them, she recognized from the restaurant.

  “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

  “I’m being chased.”

  “Where are you?”

  I’m at the corner of Water St. and Washington Blvd.”

  “And what is your name?”

  Someone bumped into her and she stumbled forward, dropping her phone in the process. She glanced back; they were closer. She bent to pick up her phone and the battery that had come off as it hit the ground.

  She searched for somewhere to hide before they spotted her. Pivoting to her right, she noticed a store and ran inside without even glancing at the name on the front of the door.

  Bells jingled overhead, making her presence known. Stepping in and away from the windows, she went to a bookshelf and hid, placing her back against it. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she closed her eyes. Please let them walk on by. Opening her eyes, she turned back around and grabbed a book off the shelf, pretending to look through it, all the while her heart hammered on.

  “Good evening.”

  She jumped and spun around. Her hand flew to her chest. A woman stood before her and Gillian sent up a silent thank you.

  “Hello.”

  “I’m sorry I scared you.” She tipped her head. “Forgive me.”

  She waved off the apology and looked the woman over. She stood tall and straight with her hands clasped in front of her, very proper-like. Her hair was long and the prettiest bright red she’d ever seen with bangs. The sides were held up by two braided-rope barrettes. Vibrant green eyes stared back at her. She wore a V-neck billowy shirt with a floral print and a long brown skirt that stopped at her ankles. Brown boots, that Gillian guessed rose to her knees, peeked from under the hemline.

  “It’s all right.” She eyed her for a moment before turning her gaze back to the window to watch for her would-be killers.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Gillian glanced down at what she held and curled the book into her chest, peering around the store. “I don’t think so. I’ve never been in here before.”

  The woman dipped her head to peer at the title of the book. “Are you interested in totems then?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  Surprised, she took a closer look at the book and chuckled. “No, I’m just browsing.” Placing the book back on the shelf in its proper place, she finally began to take in her surroundings.

  Books lined three of the four white walls. Bottles of all colors sat here and there in little clusters. Incense burned in a wooden dish off to her left and she closed her eyes and inhaled.

  “What’s the scent?”

  “That’s Patchouli oil and it’s used for a lot of spell work. It’s also a popular incense for rituals, so we sell a lot of it.” The lady smiled and cocked her head, waiting.

  The shop appeared to be a peaceful place, with soft Celtic music playing from a small radio behind the counter. Antique looking candles burned around the cash register giving off a nice energy. A sign directed customers to small rooms in the back for readings, rikki, massage, and other alternative healings. Cool artwork of faeries, wolves in the woods, and horses hung on the walls with mirrors and tapestries for sale. Oriental rugs decorated the floors.

  “Miss, why don’t you tell me about your problem and let me see if I can help you.”

  Gillian shifted her feet and glanced nervously at the woman. She’d barely been able to tell Tara about her problem, how could she tell this lady?

  She shrugged as if she had no idea what the woman was talking about. “I don’t have a problem. I’ve just always wanted to stop in and see what you carried is all.” She focused on a few necklaces that hung on a stand that resembled a tree, letting one slide through her fingers as she took a closer look.

  The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “Mm hmm.”

  Gillian wasn’t a very good liar and being caught was embarrassing. She pointed and opened her mouth to speak when voices outside the store window caught their attention and she slowly turned to look. The two men who’d been following her stood facing each other. Their voices carried through the window pane as they pointed and tried to figure out which direction she’d gone.

  “She couldn’t have just vanished. She’s here somewhere. Start checking all the stores.” The short squat man slipped past the other and headed toward the corner of the street. When the light turned green, he crossed to the other side.

  The man left standing in front of the window tilted his head up to peer at the sign above the store.

  “Shit!”

  The woman glanced out the window then back at the Gillian. “A friend of yours?”

  “Umm, no!” Her heart raced as the man started walking toward the door. “Do you have a place to hide?”

  The store owner tilted her head toward the back of the store. “Behind the curtain is a closet. Get in and lock it.”

  She quickly did as she was told and peeked out between the boards. The woman kept herself busy straightening books on a shelf when she heard the jingle of the bell. Peeking her head around the book case, she greeted her customer.

  “Welcome to The Four Corners. May I help you?” She strolled over to the man and leaned against the counter.

  “Yah, did a woman about my height with long black hair come in here?”

  The owner acted as if she was thinking about it, then shook her head. “No. I would remember. Today is Monday and the store is very slow on Mondays.”

  His eyes scanned the store in search of his prey, then he walked past the owner to peer behind the curtain.

  “Nothing back there but my storeroom and I don’t appreciate you being snoopy.” She crossed her arms at her chest and cocked her hip. “Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

  The man stood in front of her eye to eye. She didn’t back down.

  “No.” He studied her for a moment longer, then left. The owner stayed in place for a few seconds before going around her counter and straightening her receipts, trying to look busy in case he was watching her. When enough time had passed, she returned to the back room.

  “You can come out.”

  With the twist of the lock, Gillian left the closet and shut the door behind her.

  “Now, would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  Heat from the vent blew against her hair. A chill swept over her and she didn’t know if it came from the vent or the close call. Gillian sighed and gave in. She rubbed her finger tips over her eyebrows thinking of the best way to start her story.

  “Last night, I witnessed a crime. Their boss,” she said as she turned at the waist and pointed outside as if the men were still there, “was involved. Tonight, I just happened to be eating in his establishment and he saw me. His thugs are trying to find me.”

  The woman only stared.

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “So, what do you have in your bag of tricks that can help me?” Gillian placed her hands on her hips and waited for a revelation.

  “Do you realize what kind of store you came into?” The woman held her hands out.

  “I think so.”

  The store owner led her to the front of the store where Gillian watched intently as she fretted to and fro, picking up objects from various shelves and sifting through drawers under the counter.

  When finished, she arranged the treasures on the counter. “I want you to take these home with you.”

  “What are they for?” She
looked skeptically at the lady. The song on the radio was of bagpipes playing Amazing Grace and it sent chills racing up and down her spine.

  “I’m going to give you a protection spell. These items will assist you.” She pointed to the different colored candles, five of them in total, next to five small saucers, a burning plate, and a small bottle of oil.

  Gillian nodded her head slowly, her eyes riveted on the objects and her mind soaking up every word. She knew she shouldn’t be taking this advice and resisted the urge to walk right out of the store. It went against everything she’d been taught growing up but the strong desire to stay alive kept her fixated where she stood.

  The CD of soft Celtic music paused, then began to play the next song. Her senses came alive as she watched the store owner line up the candles and open the vial. The smell of incense tickled her nose, the way the shadow of the candlelight danced on the wall. She waited for more instructions.

  “Tonight is the night of Shamain.” She pronounced it sow-when. “There will be a full moon. I want you to take these candles and place them four feet apart, in the center of your room. Purple for the west.” She held the first one up. “Pink for east, red for south, and white for north. It’s very important to remember the order. Place the fifth candle, midnight black, in the center. Then, take the incense and burn it at the north end.”

  Purple, pink, red, white, and black. She repeated twice to herself.

  She took a deep breath, licked her lips, and nodded.

  “I’m writing a spell on this piece of paper.” She bent over the counter and began to scribble, speaking as she did so, never looking up. “Once you have everything in place, stand near the center and repeat these words three times. You must say them correctly.”

  Again, Gillian nodded. Her arms hung to her sides and she popped her knuckles one by one.

  “Do you understand all that I have told you?” The woman’s gaze penetrated her, looking to be sure that she stressed her words and she understood their importance.

  She glanced at the piece of parchment. The words ran through her mind as she repeated them. It seemed simple enough.

  The woman put the items in a bag and handed them to her. “Good luck, sweetie.”

  “Thank you.” Lifting the bag, she asked, “What do I owe you?”

  The lady placed her hand on her shoulder. “Nothing. Just remember to do everything exactly as I said.”

  She walked to the door. Turning around one more time, she gave a nod and smiled. “Thank you.”

  Outside, she hailed a cab. “Fairway Boulevard.” As the car took off, she settled back into the seat and watched the scenery pass by without really seeing it. When the cab pulled up in front of her apartment complex, she paid the driver and ran to her unit. Closing the door behind her, she locked the deadbolt, then leaned against it. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

  The weight of the bag in her hand brought her out of her moment of peace. She held it up and stared. Time ticked by as she contemplated what to do. After another five minutes passed, she squared her shoulders and walked to the middle of the room.

  Just as the shop owner had said, the moon had risen full and was shining in through her open window. Silvery bands gently touched the floor at the center of her rug. A light breeze danced with the curtains, an endless routine through time.

  She laid out four candles in a circle on her living room floor, one at each corner as instructed. The last candle sat in the center, caressed by the moon’s light.

  With shaking hands, she placed the patchouli oil at the north corner and lit the incense. She straightened and closed her eyes, letting the scent of the oil cleanse her soul. She let the world disappear for a few moments. No sounds, no trouble, no worries. When an owl outside her window broke into her peace, she opened her eyes and looked around. The owl was a symbol of death in the Native American culture. Her mother’s teachings came back to her as she stared at the open window for a moment, then turned back to the candles.

  Death.

  Would it be her death or someone else’s?

  The owl hooted again and she swallowed hard. Her heart sank. Glancing back at the window she waited. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Time was slipping away. She had to act fast. Fear gripped her with its icy fingers. I can do this. Please let this work.

  With a shaking hand, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the paper. Slowly opening it, her heart thumped in her chest and she took another deep breath.

  This seemed like such a simple thing to do when she’d thought about it at the shop, but standing here now with the spell in her hand, she was scared. Scared that it would work, yet scared that it wouldn’t.

  The candle light flickered on the walls, giving the room an almost romantic feel and she smiled at the crazy notion.

  “Far from it.”

  I can do this, I can do this. She repeated her thoughts, stroking courage from a spark of fire deep within herself.

  Holding the paper in front of her with trembling hands, she glanced at the words, then closed her eyes and spoke them out loud.

  I call upon the mighty ancient one of power

  And ask for your favor at this given hour

  No other one is greater no matter time or space

  Send me your courage and protection in this very place

  Remove this evil from my sight

  And wrap me in his protecting arms this night

  Oh, mighty great ancient one

  Let this be your will, let it be done.

  She repeated it two more times. Quiet surrounded her.

  Slowly, opening one eye, she peered down at the candles. They were still lit. Opening the other eye, she surveyed the room for a moment. Nothing. But then again, what had she expected to happen? She’d spent this entire time being scared and for what? Nothing. The lady at the store had said it was a protection spell, so what did that mean? She should have asked more questions.

  There wasn’t a three-headed goat walking around her apartment, there wasn’t a creepy scratching noise coming from inside the walls, and there wasn’t a troll running back and forth casting her evil looks. It was as simple as the woman had said.

  She blew out the candles, then picked them up from the middle of the floor. As she turned around, she screamed, letting the candles fall to the floor as she covered her mouth.

  A mist lay low in a circle where the candles had been. She glanced back at the window, then rushed to close it. As she walked back toward the middle of the room, the next vision she had stopped her dead in her tracks.

  Coming up from out of the mist stood the transparent form of a man. She was looking at a real life ghost.

  A part of her wanted to turn and run to her bedroom and lock the door, but the other part of her was stronger and she was curious to see what would happen. Her feet were rooted in place. She shook; the fear of the unknown setting into her very core.

  The figure lost its transparency and became a solid form. “Fuck me running,” she said as the mist disappeared and there, standing in front of her, was one of the largest men she’d ever seen. He had to be at least six-foot-six and a good three hundred pounds of solid muscle.

  His clothes made him look as if he’d stepped right out of a Braveheart movie and into her living room. He was covered in ash and soot.

  She watched, taking a tentative step backward, as he bent over and coughed. He smelled of wood smoke. When he straightened, he glanced around. The expression on his face changed from confusion to anger, then his focus settled on her.

  She took another step back.

  “Who are ye and where am I?”

  Fear held her tongue and he strode toward her.

  “Where’s Margaret?” As he said Margaret, his features softened
to worry. He nervously looked around the room, turning in a circle as he did so. When he focused back on her again, he furrowed his brows. “I willna ask again. Where am I?”

  This was becoming all too real. He stood in front of her, strong, tall, and angry. She started to reach out and touch him. She needed reassurance that she wasn’t losing her mind. Making a fist half way to his chest, she lost her nerve and dropped her hand. “You’re in my apartment.”

  “Who are ye?” He crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to search her home.

  “My name is Gillian,” she said. She waited, desperately trying to steady her breathing. “Who is Margaret?”

  He turned back to her and leaned in, face to face. She had tried to be strong but with him being so angry and so close, she quickly deflated.

  “I am Hamish and Margaret is my sister. I wanna know where she is.”

  “I don’t know.”

  He reached out and grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. “Tell me where she is.” He was searching her face, pleading for an answer.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know, I swear. It’s just you.” She twisted her shoulders, trying to ease out of his hurtful grasp. He looked at his hands on her and quickly let go, taking a few steps away.

  To be standing in her living room and have this happen was an amazing thing to witness, but she was scared. Deep down scared. She didn’t know anything about him. She watched as he continued to search her place. A small amount of guilt began to fill her for bringing him here, but she was so shocked that she’d done such a thing in the first place. A part of her didn’t want to believe it was true. Could she be dreaming? She pinched herself and when pain shot through the spot on her arm, she knew she was wide awake.