“Women like to be called wenches, not witches,” Raibeart stated. “Unless they are a witch, then it’s all right. It’s called political correctness, Cait.”
“That’s not how that works,” Bruce said. Everyone ignored him.
Cait continued in her loud tone, “Since ya have been at the motel, I’ve been brewing up another batch. The cheese ball contained the last of my stock. I think if ya tried it again, we might learn more.”
Oh, hell no. You keep your potions away from me, devil woman.
“She’ll think about it,” Raibeart said.
“Good,” Cait answered. “I’m happy to hear you’re being reasonable.”
Please tell her she doesn’t need to yell. I can hear her.
Before Raibeart got the chance to mess up that message too, Rory said, “Ma, please go check on the potion and make sure it’s ready if Jennifer wants to try it—but only if she wants to. Bruce, can ya take Jim outside for a bit and feed him?”
“Aye,” Bruce said. “Come on then, Jim.”
“Careful, there have been gremians in the area again,” Murdoch said. “They should be sleeping this time of day, but they’ll try to ride Jim like a pony if they run across him.”
“Oh, aye, those hellions have been hunting me,” Raibeart said. “Little do they know it’s a trap, and I’m hunting them.”
“I’ll help with the potion,” Maura said. “I have a cut on my leg I need ya to look at anyway, Ma. It’s not healing fast enough.”
“I’m staying here until Jennifer comes out of this petrified state,” Rory said.
“Come, Raibeart, let’s leave the love birds alone,” Murdoch said. “I think I heard Jewel playing dragon slayer upstairs. We should probably make sure she doesn’t conjure an actual dragon.”
“I taught her that one,” Raibeart answered proudly. “Being a pretty princess and drinking tea is all well in good, but my little phoenix is also going to learn how to kick arse.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Kenneth ya are the one to get credit for it,” Murdoch answered.
“No one is ever going to hurt that wee bairn,” Raibeart insisted.
“Oh, love,” Rory whispered next to her. “I wish I could hear ya. Don’t read anything into the fact that I can’t. Uncle Raibeart is a special kind of touched. He tends to see beyond the veil more than the rest of us.”
I wish you could hear me too.
“I promise I won’t leave your side,” Rory said. “And, since this is going to be a one-way conversation, I’ll try to make it entertaining. I’m also only going to tell ya stories where I end up looking good. I have to impress my lady, after all.”
I’m already impressed. Thank you for not leaving me alone.
Rory cleared his throat. “Have ya ever heard of the fine sport of caber tossing?”
Chapter Seventeen
Jim bounced across the back garden, running in circles as he chased leaves. The puppy didn’t have a care in the world. Jennifer sat with Rory on a stone bench, watching Jim scamper from the cobblestone path into the thick grass lining it. The dog didn’t venture toward the trees, which was good since she didn’t want to chase him through the woods again. She was a little jealous of his innocence.
Jennifer rubbed her arms, reassuring herself that she was pliable. Being stuck in a stone-cast state had been a horrible feeling. She could hear and think, but her body had been imprisoned. Though it felt like days, Rory assured her it had been mere hours.
Rory had stayed beside her, mostly talking about sports and old mischiefs the family had found themselves in. At the end of each story, he would give a small laugh and announce that he was the one who’d saved the day. Usually, his two cousins Iain and Euann would come out looking like idiots.
Rory’s interpretation of the past was clearly self-biased.
She didn’t care. He’d kept his word, and she had been very entertained while she’d softened.
“Hey, guys!” Maura appeared around the side of the house. “I got your contraband.”
Jennifer laughed as Maura tossed a to-go bag from a local sandwich shop at them. Rory caught it with one hand, keeping his other around Jennifer’s shoulders.
“Much obliged,” Rory said.
“No worries,” Maura answered, barely breaking stride as she reversed her steps. “I wouldn’t trust anything that came out of Ma’s kitchen right now either. I have to get back before she starts wondering where I ran off to. She’s a little on edge thinking one of her baby boys is in trouble.”
“What about the Crimson Tavern?” Jennifer asked.
“I called your boss and let him know ya weren’t coming in. I lied and told him ya were sick. I know how important the job is to ya.” Maura gave a small wave before turning to jog toward the back door.
“I hope I’m not fired after this,” Jennifer said. Having someone call in for her wasn’t the most professional way to handle a job. It’s not like she was in a coma. “I wouldn’t blame him after my performance the other night.”
“Ya can’t dwell on that,” Rory said. “It wasn’t as bad as ya fear.”
“That’s sweet, but it was,” she said.
“If he does fire ya, we’ll find ya another job.” Rory grinned. “And ya do know ya are dating a rich—”
“I’ll stop you right there,” Jennifer said. “I’ve always earned my way. I’m not with you because you have money. I don’t need you to start paying my rent like a sugar daddy.”
Rory set the food bag on his lap and opened it with one hand. He handed her a sandwich. “Hey, look, see, they’ve stopped staring at us.”
Jennifer glanced back to the window. Their chaperone was gone.
“Thank you for not making me eat your mother’s potion.” Jennifer peeked between the bread. “I know they think it will help, but…”
Jennifer sighed and took a bite of the sandwich. Thawing from a petrifying spell had left her famished.
Rory pulled her closer, keeping the hand draped around her shoulders. He ignored his sandwich, more concerned with holding her. “My ma doesn’t know how to be helpless. The truth is, she doesn’t know what is causing this enchantment. So she hopes by forcing truths out of ya, she’ll figure out the answer. I’ll let her brew her potion because it will keep her busy.”
Jim found a particularly fascinating leaf and brought his shoulders low to the ground as he waited for it to move. His back legs were straight, keeping his bum in the air. His tail wagged erratically. Damn, he was cute. And so small.
“And you? What do you think?” She took another bite.
“I think that these webs have to untangle on their own. There will be an answer, but magick has a way of revealing itself. We just have to wait, watch, and be vigilant.”
Jennifer turned in her seat to look toward the back of the house. The shrubs were manicured and spaced with precision, and not a single weed grew between them. A shadowed figure peered out at them from a window. She couldn’t tell which uncle it was, but the man lifted his hand at her attention to show he was avidly watching.
“I think the watching part is taken care of,” she said, waving back.
“It won’t be like this for long,” he assured her.
“No? How long do these enchantment-possession-spell things usually last?” She wondered if he was just trying to make her feel better.
“Depends. From start to finish? Some are in the making for centuries. Others are ten, twelve years. Some are short, fast, like a blow to the gut, but then over.”
“How long from the time they activate until they are done?” she clarified.
Centuries? Her definition of not long was more like half a day. Being mortal with less than a hundred years lifespan probably did put things like time in a different perspective. Also, her sense of urgency would be a little higher, considering she’d never dealt with the supernatural before.
“Months at best,” he answered.
“And at worst?”
He bit his lip, mumbling, “
Centuries.”
“Centuries.” She leaned away from him to study his face.
“But customarily that’s a sleeping curse or being encased in stone or turned to salt or—”
“I was in stone,” she interrupted.
“That was a petrifying spell. Completely different things.” He tried to pull her against him once more.
Jennifer resisted so she could look at him more fully. “So if we love each other, and we’re together, does that mean I have centuries to wait?”
The prospect of being forced to live on edge for so long out of fear of killing the man she loved was horrifying.
“Ya haven’t said ya love me,” he answered, his voice low.
“Everyone keeps saying it for me.” She couldn’t help her wry smile.
“I won’t believe it until I hear it from ya.” He leaned closer. His hand worked against her shoulder, pulling her gently toward him for a kiss.
“I love—”
Jim yelped, startling them.
They turned to see his little back paws disappear into the trees as he ran away from them.
“Crap.” Jennifer thrust her sandwich into Rory’s hand and jumped up from the bench. “I’ll get him.”
She automatically chased the dog.
“Jennifer, wait!” Rory called. She could hear him running after her.
Her attention focused on following the sound of Jim’s feet. As she came around a curve in the dirt path, she saw him ahead of her digging into the ground. She slowed her pace and tried to calm her breathing as she went to fetch him.
“Dammit, Ji—” Something caught her back foot, and she stumbled.
When her front foot hit the ground to right herself, it too became caught. She flung her arms for balance as she felt herself starting to sink into the forest floor.
“Rory!” she yelled.
“Where…?” He appeared behind her.
Jim stopped digging and now watched them.
“Careful, it’s muddy. My feet are stuck.” She looked for an overhead branch to pull herself out. The more she struggled, the deeper she sank. It enveloped her calves. “Rory?”
“I’m here. Try not to move,” Rory ordered. “I’ll find a way to get ya out.”
Jim barked.
“Ugh, it smells like rotten eggs.” Jennifer gagged.
“Sulfur,” he answered.
“Sulfur? Isn’t that what they say demons give off in haunting movies?” Jennifer began to panic in earnest. She pushed at the ground, but her hands came back muddy. She tried to pull on her thigh to dislodge a leg. The other leg sank past her knee.
“Jennifer, stop fighting it,” Rory called. She heard him rustling around behind her. “Sulfur as in a peat bog. The smell gives it away—sulfur and methane.”
“What is a peat bog doing in Wisconsin?” It was a little difficult not to panic, seeing how the earth was trying to swallow her whole. “I thought those were all in the moors of Scotland or something.”
“That is what you’re concerned about? With everything ya have seen of magick, Wisconsin peatlands is what ya question? There are kettle holes all over North Wisconsin.”
“Kettle-what?” She tried not to panic. Her heart beat fast, and she found it difficult to breathe.
“Peatland borders kettle lakes,” he said, his voice strained. “They normally feel squishy and unsteady when ya walk over them, like a layer of water is under the ground.”
“I have no idea why you’re telling me any of this.” Jennifer tried to turn to look at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m distracting ya so ya quit struggling,” he said. “I’m going to get as close as I can and pull ya out with this branch. There is no way to tell how big this sinkhole thing is.”
Jim barked again.
“What branch?” Jennifer asked. “I can’t see it.”
“Stay back, little buddy,” Rory ordered. She heard a stick whack on the ground behind her.
“Can’t you just magick me out?” she asked. The bog became colder the deeper she went.
“I don’t want to alarm ya, but my magick is not working at the moment.” Rory whacked the ground again, coming closer.
Was she mistaken, or did she detect fear in his voice?
Jim barked again and bounded toward Jennifer.
“No, Jim, bad dog! Sit,” she yelled, trying to scare him back.
Jim’s paws dented the ground as he neared her. His curious expression said he didn’t understand (or care about) the command.
“Rory, get ready for Jim!” Jennifer held out her hands as the puppy approached. The second she touched fur, she grabbed Jim by the waist and lifted him from the mud. She tried to twist her body and lightly tossed him toward Rory and out of harm’s way. The dog landed safely, but unfortunately, the movement tilted her back, and she sank deeper. Her left hip was sucked under, and soon her side followed. She tried to keep her hand up, but her arm and shoulder were next to go under.
“Rory?” Jennifer felt tears streaming hot across her temple. “Any time now.”
“Grab the stick,” Rory ordered.
She had thought being held prisoner in a petrifying spell would be the worst feeling of her life but being sucked into a grave was worse. Much worse.
Jennifer reached as Rory thrust a stick in her direction. She grabbed hold with both hands, ready to be pulled to safety.
“I got ya, love,” Rory said. “Don’t let go.”
Jennifer held on tight. She felt her body coming out of the bog. “It’s work—”
Another force countered Rory’s rescue, and in the span of one breath, the earth engulfed her completely. She heard Rory yell for her. The stick ripped from her hands, and her head became encased in thick darkness. The sound of her frantic heartbeat thumped in her ears.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Jennifer tried pushing her arms to swim toward the surface, but the mud was too thick. Her lungs begged for air, warring with her tight lips as they tried to keep out the peat. Any moment, the lungs would win, and on reflex, she’d try with her last seconds to breathe.
Rory flew back as Jennifer released the stick. He landed hard on the ground. Jim ran up to him, ready to play.
Rory kept the puppy from climbing onto his stomach and pushed up from the ground. Without concern for his own safety, he leaped close to where Jennifer had disappeared. The bog caught his legs, but he didn’t care as he reached into the disrupted surface. If she died, he died. There was no living without her.
“Take me, Jenny Greentooth,” Rory yelled. “Not her. Take me. I’m the one ya want!”
He dug into the bog, flinging layers aside before finally punching his hand into the depths. His legs sunk deeper. Jim barked.
“Back, Jim,” Rory ordered. He flung his dirty hand out of habit, trying to keep the dog safe, but his magick was useless. The puppy ran toward him, but he didn’t sink into the mud, just like the child that had pushed him down all those centuries ago.
Pieces of the memory came back to him as he desperately searched for Jennifer. He’d been here before, helpless in the bog as a woman drowned in the mud.
Before, it had been a stranger. This was Jennifer. He could not lose her.
Not his Jennifer.
“Take me, Jenny, take me,” he begged. “I’m the one you’ve been after.”
Rory sank lower. Jennifer would not be able to hold her breath much longer. He was running out of time.
“Take me. Take me. Take me.”
Rory screamed in frustration as he reached deeper, bringing the mud to his shoulder. His fingers bumped against something, and he grabbed hold. His fingers slipped, but he clutched his fist as tight as he could and pulled. The action caused the bog to pull his body into its depths, but he didn’t care. If Jenny accepted his trade, then he would die a thousand times for the chance to save Jennifer.
Rory managed to grab hold of what felt like an arm with both hands. He pulled harder, crying out as he lifted her.
The mud came to his chest now. It became difficult to breathe as the pressure of it pushed against him.
The arm he held slipped, but he would not let go. A muddy hand broke the surface.
“I have ya, my love.” Rory grunted at the effort it took to pull her from the bog. “I…”
A second hand came through the surface on its own, slapping down on the ground near his face. The claws were unmistakable. It wasn’t Jennifer.
“No!” The agonized cry escaped him. That was all the fight he had left.
Mud touched his jaw. The bony arm slipped from his grasp.
Peat clung to Jenny Greentooth’s head. Clumps flew from her missing nose as she hissed out air. She opened her mouth and gurgled a horrible sound in his direction. Like the bog she lived in, her body looked eaten away by rot and decay. She crawled out of the muck, using the top of his head for support as she pushed him down.
The cold bog enveloped him. Rory tried to swim toward where Jennifer went under, desperate to push her to the surface. It was no use. If he could manage to move even an inch closer to her, he’d take it. If this is what eternity had in store, he would die knowing he spent it with the love of his life.
Chapter Eighteen
Death was cold.
It was dark.
And the fear still lingered.
Jennifer’s lungs had stopped fighting for air. That was how she knew she died. The taste of peat sat in her mouth like a bite of dead leaves. If she thought being stuck as a statue for a few hours was dreadful, how was she going to last forever here in the darkness?
Had she led such a bad life that this was her punishment?
“All it takes is a dash of destiny, and everything can change.”
Was this her destiny all along? Had she been drifting toward this moment?
So much tragedy. It rushed over her. Her brother’s death had led to her mother’s absence. Her father’s illness had fallen upon her shoulders. She didn’t regret caring for him, but she hated losing him. Then came the loneliness and struggle to pay bills.
A Dash of Destiny (Warlocks MacGregor Book 8) Page 15