Cauldrons and Confessions (Warlocks MacGregor Book 4)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Euann made a small moaning noise, which could have been a thank you, or an affront that his spells could even have been considered as a contributing cause to the current situation.

  A foul odor wafted from the dining room.

  “Oh, not nice at all. What did ya bake this time, Cait?” Raibeart demanded, holding his nose. “Testicular stew?”

  “Goblin,” Rory stated.

  “Ya cooked a goblin? Good gods woman, why?” Raibeart cried in shock.

  “No, goblin,” Rory pointed to the dining room door. The squat creature waddled into the foyer. The fumes of his stench were so bad Malina was certain she saw the stink coming from the foul being like heat off a blacktop.

  “Oh, no, stop this nonsense at once!” Cait ordered no one in particular. “Goblin odor is impossible to get out. We’ll have to burn the house down.”

  The nasty creature gave an evil laugh and began running around the room touching the walls to mark his new territory and spread his stench. In his foolhardiness, he tripped on a steering wheel and skidded over the marble on his stomach. His limbs flailed in the air as he bounced off a wall and headed the other direction.

  “You can scream. You can cry. You can even wonder why.” Two singsong children’s voices came from above. At first, they were soft and light, an eerie melody that Malina strained to hear.

  Malina searched the upper landing for a sign of where the sound originated.

  “You can beg. You can pout. But your luck is running out,” the girls continued, growing louder.

  The light fixtures shook and trembled. The wood balusters on the staircase creaked and groaned as if threatening to splinter apart.

  Cait lifted her hand, trying to keep the chandelier over the front hall from falling as it twitched violently above them. “They’re too strong.”

  Malina pulled at the petrified Euann, urging his limbs to thaw from their stone-like state just enough to break him free from the creaking wood.

  “This home is bigger than ours before. We all know what lies in store.” Sudden streams of cold air swept down the stairs. The ambient temperature dropped close to twenty degrees in an instant. Malina caught glimpses of transparent faces and hands flowing past her. The ghosts were becoming more powerful, manifesting into denser forms. She flung her magick at one of the creatures to repel him back, but the man who had died sometime in the 1700s seemed to feed upon her energy, pulling her magick inside himself to grow stronger. He whooped loudly and began swinging his arms around in a sudden burst of liveliness.

  Raibeart and Rory did the same, and their magick also appeared to fuel the undead nuisances. They shot several blasts, each one bringing the spirits more life. A woman in a prairie dress appeared, spinning in circles as she dove down the stairs headfirst. Two pretty girls with ringlets giggled, covering their mouths.

  “They’re feeding off us,” Cait said. The ghost of a young boy began pinching at her backside. She gasped, flinging her hand behind her to try to block the youthful attack. Her fingers swept through the boy’s, not making contact. “Stop using magick.”

  What could only be a homely prostitute in a cowboy hat took after Raibeart. Her hands disappeared to some very inappropriate places.

  “Retreat, retreat,” Raibeart yelled, sprinting for the front door. “She’s minin’ for gold and shrivelin’ my nuggets!”

  “Move,” Rory ordered, thrusting Malina aside. He kicked the banister with the heel of his foot several times, loosening it enough to pull Euann’s arm free. They maneuvered his stiff body, half carrying and half dragging it over the floor.

  As they made it through the front door, the heavy wood slammed shut behind them. Eerie music began to play, and laughter resounded from within as the mansion’s new tenants evidently threw themselves a housewarming party.

  Breathing hard, Malina dropped her hold on Euann. Her brother’s body rocked on the snowy grass before settling in a strange position.

  “What just happened?” Malina asked, watching as streaks of light zipped past the windows. One of them had gotten into her bedroom, and soon pieces of her designer clothing were flying out onto the lawn. She gasped, running to grab a few of her favorites as they fluttered down.

  “I think we were just evicted,” Rory answered.

  Malina’s arm tingled. The muscles twitched, and she dropped the clothes on the ground. The fear from the night before renewed itself and she slowly turned around in the yard. Something watched them. She felt it.

  She walked toward the oak, lifting her hands to sense the landscape. The pain in her limb became worse, and she clutched her upper arm wondering what was wrong. With her heritage, she wasn’t prone to human illnesses, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t suffer from some very nasty supernatural ones.

  “I think he’s coming out of it,” Cait said, motioning at Euann. “Which one of ya did this?”

  “I don’t know how it happened,” Rory lied. “Malina?”

  Malina didn’t answer.

  “I think we have gremians, as well,” Raibeart observed. “I’ve been seeing car parts littered all over the place and look.” He pointed at Euann’s disassembled car on the lawn. “They’re starting to tear everything apart. They’re worse than termites, and a helluva lot meaner.”

  Malina walked faster toward the tree. Her fear originated there, and she wasn’t going to spend another second hiding under the covers like she had last night.

  “Malina?” Rory called louder. “What are ya doing?”

  She came to a stop and looked up into the branches before examining the trunk as her gaze moved downward. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, except for the fact that leaves had sprouted when they should have been dormant for winter. She let her feelings guide her, forcing herself to look where she most didn’t want to go. The prickling in her arm turned into a sharper pain, a strange premonition, but one she accepted. She followed the short path in the melting snow to a goblin hole. Mold grew over the mound. The yellow fungus cut a path straight to the house, most likely following the goblin as he’d burrowed underneath the ground to get inside.

  “Who roused a goblin?” Rory wondered aloud. “Nothing about this makes sense. This feels more prankish than an actual attack. Do ya think Iain or Erik is having us on? Or your parents? Uncle Angus and Aunt Margareta left and then within hours all of this started. Or maybe the ghosts followed Elspeth’s essence into Donna’s body when Uncle Fergus summoned her back to him, and now they think that they can become corporeal again if they enter our house?”

  Malina watched as the ghost of a 1920s farmhand sauntered out of the forest. The spirit didn’t appear to see them as it made his way along the drive to join the others. The farmhand’s neck and arm bent at a strange angle as if he’d been mangled in death. He didn’t bother to knock as he walked inside.

  “Malina? What do ya think?” Rory insisted when she merely stared at the door where the latest ghost disappeared.

  The feelings of dread inside her became more pronounced. Her heart beat so hard it felt like the organ wanted to tear out of her chest. Her stomach knotted until the sensation tightened and choked all the way up her throat. “I don’t think this is a prank, Rory. I believe this is the beginning of something very bad. Very bad indeed.”

  Her breathing deepened, and she gripped her upper arm as the pain radiated from her hand to her chest. Nausea threatened. When she tried to call for help, no sound came out. Her body swayed, and she was unable to stop herself. The last thing she remembered was seeing the moldy goblin mound coming for her face before she blacked out.

  Chapter 5

  “What happened to her?” Dar questioned the nurse as he motioned toward Malina’s door. A curtain had been drawn over the glass to give her privacy, but if he was to lean to the right, he might be able to catch a glimpse of her inside. He didn’t lean.

  “Are you family?” the nurse inquired. “Family is to stay in the waiting room. Someone will update you with any progress. You’re not allowed back h
ere.”

  “Where is here?”

  “The Cardiac Care Unit,” the nurse answered. “This area has restricted access, and she’s not up for visitors yet. The doctor will be out shortly to speak with family members.”

  “What happened to her?” Dar repeated. He was a little surprised that it had taken so little luck magick to bring the great warlock enchantress down. She must have been taken by surprise if a few ghosts, fairies, and a smelly goblin managed to get to her. The small attack was supposed to be an amusing prelude.

  Dar touched the nurse’s shoulder, giving her an infusion of luck, which often brought with it a little happiness. It wouldn’t last long, but normally it put people in a helpful mood. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out a watch.

  “How did…? My grandfather’s watch. I’ve been searching everywhere for this. I thought…” She blinked as if realizing where she was. Her smile was a little more generous when she looked at him. The small haze of his power flowed over her gaze like a reflective sheen. “I’m sorry. What did you say your name was?”

  “Darragh Lahey,” Dar answered.

  “And are you family?”

  “I’m her husband. You can tell me everything. What happened to her?” Dar took a small step toward the window. He didn’t want to look at her so instead stared at his reflection. He’d gotten a haircut before coming. When the beautician mussed the thick locks into haphazard place, she’d insisted it was a “sexy-as” look for him. He wasn’t sure what that meant. Sexy as a what? He absently brushed a dark strand up and away from his face. He straightened his suit jacket with several decisive jerks.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was married. They must have forgotten to put that on her charts.” The nurse lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “Your wife had a cardiac event, Mr. Lahey.”

  Cardiac event? How strange that a powerful supernatural being would end up in a human hospital for something so ordinary.

  “What caused it?” he wondered aloud.

  “There doesn’t seem to be any blockage,” the nurse explained, “which is good, but that does lead us to question why this happened. I’m sorry, the doctor should—”

  “Will she live?” Dar asked, again briefly placing a lucky hand on the woman.

  “I can see that you’re worried about her. She’s young and strong. We’re going to repeat the EKG and draw labs for cardiac enzymes. We’ll know more in twenty-four hours. Right now she’s comfortable. We have her on oxygen and I.V. fluids, and we’re monitoring her heart.” The nurse patted his arm. “I promise we’re taking good care of her.”

  Dar stiffened as he detected a supernatural presence approaching. It was probably the MacGregor family.

  The nurse reached for the door, “Do you want to go in for just a second and see—”

  “No,” he interrupted. She seemed surprised by the suddenness of his response. “Thank you for your kindness. Finding a lost object is a good sign. If I were you, I’d buy yourself a lottery ticket before 4:43 today or that luck may run out.”

  “Oh, ah,” she glanced down to the pocket that had the watch. “Ok. Thank you. I…”

  Her words faded as Dar quickly disappeared around a corner and hid in a supply closet where the MacGregors wouldn’t discover him. He knew luck would be with him as he waited. Then, when he instinctively felt it would be time, he opened the door and stepped out. He moved back toward Malina’s room, keeping close to the wall. No one was at the main desk in the center of the wing. As luck would have it, her door was cracked just enough to let him hear inside.

  “How can her heart be bad? That’s a human disease,” one of them was saying. By the Scottish accent, he could well deduce it was a MacGregor. The whole clan of them stuck together like… well, like a Highlander clan.

  “Not true. One of my ancestors died of a weak heart. If I remember the stories correctly, it had something to do with the type of magick she was casting,” another answered. “The spells weakened her over time.”

  “I thought the legend said Molly died of a broken heart,” a man countered. “A spell she cast accidentally killed her lover, and she couldn’t take the pain of it.”

  “One does not die of a broken heart. They only wish they had. Fergus can attest to that,” yet another added.

  How many MacGregors were there in the hospital room? He tried to peek through the crack. Someone’s back blocked Malina from his view. The idea of her in a hospital bed brought him no pleasure. It was not supposed to be this easy to best her. He had hunted her down and planned his revenge in so many ways. One simple haunting would not take away his fun.

  “Besides, Malina doesn’t fall in love.” It was the same voice that had spoken seconds before. “She merely bides her time. I have never seen her give a gentleman caller more than a passing glance.”

  “Aye, and why should she? The single life has been good to me. I’m happy.” The words slurred a little as if the man speaking them had been drinking.

  “Right, Raibeart, happy to be single. That’s why ya have been proposing to every female that crosses your path—including the two nurses at the reception desk.”

  “The one I’m meant to be with will say aye,” Raibeart explained.

  Dar gave his reflection a wry glance. So even her family knew the truth about her. Malina played a sweet game, but in the end, she was as heartless as they came. She took what she wanted, when she wanted it, and she left behind destruction in her wake. She had to be stopped.

  “Well, Cait? Can ya help her?” a man asked.

  “Aye,” Cait answered. “But not here. All of my supplies are currently locked up in the house being held hostage by poltergeists.”

  “We can get her out of here, but erasing the records of her stay is going to take a little maneuvering.” He remembered the voice as being the brother locked in the trunk of his car. “They did a lot of tests on her when she came in. It would be better if she woke up and signed herself out.”

  “If this is a mortal disease, it might be best if she stays here until she’s stabilized. I can help her, but until we know what happened to her, I can’t even begin to cure her,” Cait said.

  “Interesting choice for a hangout, Dar.” The smooth voice was unexpected and caused him to stiffen. “Never took you as one to steal luck from the near dead.”

  Dar pulled away from Malina’s door and glanced at Apep. The man was clothed like he’d just come from a catalog shoot for a department store. Slicked back blond hair and green eyes made him look more Nordic than the Egyptian line he was descended of. Even his pose appeared camera ready.

  With a dismissing gesture, Dar went to the patient’s room next to Malina’s. “I could say the same for you. What’s a man of chaos doing in a peaceful place like this?”

  Dar stopped at the end of the patient’s bed and lifted his chart. The man sleeping on the bed didn’t move and didn’t appear to be doing too well. The bad luck practically oozed from the patient like a dark sludge only Dar could see.

  “It’s true,” Apep admitted. He nudged the sick man’s foot aside and sat on the bed. His pant leg lifted to reveal a bright yellow sock on one foot, and a dark red one of the other. Ah, there was the chaos hiding beneath the calm surface. Apep managed to hide himself well, but as a fellow demon his nature always seeped through. “I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in Wisconsin. Too many cows and not enough people, but then the strangest thing happened last night. I was enjoying the funniest little catfight between two men who both wanted to be the new face of Zigman Tires when I became all tingly. Before I knew it, I’d booked a flight for Wisconsin, not knowing why. Imagine my surprise to see my old Vegas chum here rousing up some beautiful disorder. I must thank you for the invite. I have to wonder why I’d never heard of Green Vallis before now. It’s so… powerful. We’re going to have a lot of fun here.”

  “We?” Dar frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. This was his revenge, and he didn’t want to share it.

  “I
thought we’d get the old pack back together.” Apep grinned. He reached for Dar’s lapel and gave it a small flip. “Looks like you’re still living the glory days, huh? Haven’t updated the wardrobe in a few—sixty or so—years.” He held up his hands when Dar’s expression became defensive. “Oh, hey, I get it. 1950s Las Vegas retro. Wisconsin chicks probably dig it.”

  Knowing that he was someday going to regret his actions, Dar placed a hand on Apep’s arm and the other on the sick man’s leg. The chaos demon blinked in surprise and glanced down to where they touched, clearly not expecting Dar to use his powers on him. The dark sludge transferred from one man to the other as he infused his old acquaintance with the sick man’s run of bad luck. That turn of fortune would give Apep the opposite of what he desired. Since he desired to stay and get the old demon gang back together, he’d be forced to leave.

  “What the hell, man? Not cool!” Apep jerked violently. “So not cool.”

  Apep disappeared. Dar instantly regretted his actions. Perhaps he’d given the man a little too much bad luck.

  The patient took a deep breath and opened his eyes in confusion before his heart monitors began a long, annoying beep. For a second, the man seemed relieved before the life slipped completely out of him. Dar hadn’t expected the patient to die, but sometimes luck was unpredictable like that. Good luck for this man was apparently an easy death. Still, he felt a tiny pang or remorse. That’s where a lot of humans pegged his kind wrong—sure there were evil ancient demons from the fire realm, but then they’d started calling his people demonic, as well as fairies, and goblins, and any manner of supernaturals. He wasn’t evil. If anything he was a demi-demon. He never liked it when his powers resulted in an innocent person’s demise.

  He detected footsteps coming for the heart alarm and quickly backed out of the room. His foot tripped, and he stumbled into a MacGregor. It was one of the younger men—probably Malina’s cousin or brother. The MacGregor held a cell phone to his chest, and leaned to look at where the alarm was going off as nurses rushed past them.