None of this made sense, but she still had to come up with a way to cope with this situation. She had to concoct a plausible reason why Mike disappeared and never returned. She certainly couldn’t tell her office manager, or the Police, or Mike’s parents, or anybody else, that she took him through a time portal to ancient Scotland, where he got killed by giants. That would be too ridiculous even to say out loud.
She rifled through all the possible avenues to deal with this. In the end, she decided to do nothing. She would wait until morning. Then she would call the Police and report Mike missing. They would investigate. They would never find his body. They might take months to declare him presumed dead.
She didn’t care what they did. She didn’t care if she never received his life insurance pay-out. She didn’t care if she never got access to his retirement account. She didn’t care about any of it, just so long as no one ever found out the truth. She would live her whole life knowing what really happened.
She regretted not being able to explain to his parents and his siblings and their families. They would suffer from not knowing what happened to him, but that was better than telling them the truth. Telling them the truth could only cause them more pain. It would make them question Grace’s sanity, and she couldn’t stand that.
She forced herself off the couch and walked through the silent house. She looked in on every room. She surveyed all the evidence of her tame little life with Mike. He’d left his stamp on every room of this house. She would never change anything. She would keep it exactly the same.
She would pretend Mike was coming home any second. She would behave like the expectant wife who didn’t really know what had happened to her husband. She would play the game. She would present a tough exterior to the world. She would never show anyone how she really felt. If she did, they might suspect she knew the truth all along.
She returned to her bedroom. She sat down on the bed, but she refused to change her clothes. She couldn’t get into that bed without him. She couldn’t bear the sensation of the sheets against her skin without him in bed next to her. She kicked off her shoes and stretched out on top of the bedspread, fully clothed.
She laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes. In a split second, the whole fight scene exploded into her mind. She saw the giants slamming their clubs into the ground. She saw trees uprooted and tossed aside. She saw Mike smashing into that tree. She saw the giant crack Carson’s helpless body in half and toss it on the ground like trash.
She saw Mike lying on the ground. She saw Jamie’s face in front of her eyes. His breath blew in her face, and a wild look of haunted horror flickered across his face when he said those awful words. Believe me when I tell ye, fer I ha’e seen the devil face tae face, and so ha’e those wolves. They came all this way from the Isle o’ Mull tae save ye, so dinnae throw their sacrifice back in their faces.
What had he seen and done, that made him look like that? No one could doubt the truth of what he’d said. He had seen pure evil, and his heart shone clear and pure through his eyes.
He knew Lachlan McLean, too, and he trusted him. They must have faced that evil together, and now they were facing it together again.
Who was he? He was nothing like the other people she saw in the village. He was young and handsome and strong, but something deep and terrible lurked beneath the surface. Where he had been and what he’d experienced to get that, she couldn’t imagine.
She didn’t want to imagine it, but curiosity burned her up inside. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to learn as much as she could about what made him the way he was.
She wouldn’t get to sleep this way, though. At all cost, she had to keep those nightmare images out of her head or she would go insane. She got off the bed and went back to the living room. She sat down in the recliner in front of the TV. She kicked back the seat and extended the footrest.
She closed her eyes. Ah, that was better. No giants, no wolves, no bones crunching, no bodies broken in half. She let herself relax into the soft leather, and she fell asleep.
She snapped awake to sunshine streaming through the windows. It hit her in the face and blinded her. She struggled out of the recliner. Her back hurt from lying in the wrong position all night. She kicked the footrest down and staggered into the bathroom to brush her teeth.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and cringed. Her hair stuck out at the wrong angles, and her clothes rumpled from sleeping in them. She ought to take a shower and change into something more presentable for the office, but she didn’t bother.
She wore these clothes as a badge of honor…for what? The truth was these clothes protected her from what happened. As long as she kept them on, she didn’t have to accept that Mike was gone.
She picked up her hair brush, but when she started to brush her hair, she had a brilliant idea. Hazel Green started all this. Hazel’s spell sent Grace to that village in the first place. Maybe Hazel could help her now.
Help her do what? Grace didn’t know. She couldn’t think that far in advance. Maybe Hazel could explain how Grace managed to travel back and forth so many times. Maybe Hazel could tell her why those giants attacked and why that particular giant made such a project out of chasing Grace down.
Grace grabbed an apple out of the kitchen and set off walking down the street. She munched the apple on her way to Hazel’s house. She let herself through the gate to the cottage out back.
Grace knew this place well enough. She was here just the other night when Hazel first cast that spell. Wouldn’t Hazel be surprised when Grace told her it actually worked!
She knocked on the cottage door. She waited and waited, but no one came to answer her knock. Grace peered through the windows, but she didn’t see anything. She shifted from one foot to the other. She waited some more. Nothing happened.
She knocked again. She got ready to give up and leave, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to face the empty world and the empty possibilities and her empty job and her empty house and her empty life.
She couldn’t hang around here all day, though. Why wasn’t Hazel home? While Grace stood there not sure what to think, the gate latch squeaked again. A medium-set man with flopping black hair and a black mustache entered the garden. He walked right over to Hazel’s porch and knocked on the door.
“How are ya?” he asked. “Nobody home?”
“I knocked before,” Grace told him. “There’s no answer. That’s not like her.”
The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Angelo. I don’t think we’ve met.”
She shook his hand. “I’m Grace. I’ve been Hazel’s friend since college. How do you know her?”
“Me? I run a crystal shop downtown. She’s always in and out. Matter of fact, she was in there just the other day with some guy. She was asking about…. well, she was asking about something she was interested in. I got some information for her, so I figured I’d come around and tell her myself.”
Grace’s eyes popped. “Hazel—with a guy?”
“Yeah, I know it’s weird, but he was no ordinary guy. He was a….” The man stopped. He cocked his head and scrutinized her. “What are you looking for her for?”
Grace waved that question aside. “You run the crystal shop? Then maybe you know about some of her more…shall we say, unusual interests.”
He laughed out loud. “I know all about it. She’s always coming into my place talking my ear off about something she’s got on the boil. Last week it was some magic spell she planned to cook up. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her it wouldn’t work.”
Grace’s heart thumped. This was it. This was the spell Hazel used to send Grace to the village in the first place. “When was that?”
“Must have been a few weeks ago now,” Angelo replied. “Then her and this dude come in wanting to know all about Faery mounds. You coulda knocked me over with a feather. Faery mounds! They were on some kind of scavenger hunt, I’d say.”
“What can you tell me a
bout the guy?” she asked. “What did he look like?”
Angelo looked up at the sky. “He was young, black hair and dark eyes, really good looking, but weird, you know? He had this strange sort of something just below the surface, like he could break out and explode into something massive at any second. Aw, heck! Don’t listen to a word I’m saying. I’m just shooting BS out of my ear.”
“That’s okay. Tell me more. What else can you tell me?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I thought he must have been some kind of fruit cake. I worry about Hazel sometimes, you know, the stuff she gets into, but this guy! You never saw anything like him. He was wearing a full kilt with a plaid over his shoulder. He had the full get-up with the purse around his waist and a sword and everything. You wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it yourself.”
Grace narrowed her eyes at the man. “Did he happen to say what his name was or what they were going to do with this Faery mound when they found it?”
“Naw,” Angelo replied. “I didn’t ask questions.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them some crazy people consider that hill behind the Rose Garden in Finlay Park a Faery mound. They thanked me, and they left. That’s the last I’ve seen o’ old Hazel.”
Grace’s pulse pounded. “When did she come into your shop, then?”
“About a week ago,” he replied. “That’s what I’m here about. They were looking for a woman, a homeless woman in town who supposedly knows about Faery mounds and stuff like that. I just found out she turned up missing. She had an appointment with Social Welfare, and she didn’t turn up. When her case worker went to look for her, they couldn’t find her in any of her usual haunts. The Police are looking for her, but they’re already saying she must be dead somewhere.”
Grace nodded and turned away. “Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
Angelo tagged her to the street. “I guess Hazel’s not here. If you see her, tell her I’m looking for her.”
“Sure.”
Grace walked away, but she couldn’t get her mind to function. Angelo’s words set her thoughts spinning. According to Angelo, Hazel cast that spell weeks ago, but Grace only went to the village for the first time two days ago. He said Hazel showed up with that guy at his shop a week ago. This wasn’t possible.
Why wasn’t it possible? Hadn’t Grace gone through some kind of time warp? Maybe she went through another one when she came back. Maybe several weeks had passed since Mike died. Maybe Grace fell asleep in that recliner and woke up a week later. Anything was possible.
Then there was Angelo’s description of the guy. Angelo said he had dark hair and eyes. Other than that, he could have been describing Jamie or just about any other man from the village.
Grace couldn’t ignore his description of the hidden mysterious power lurking below the surface, though. No one in the village had that, but Jamie sure did. Whoever the guy was, he must be connected with Jamie somehow. Hazel must have brought him over from the other side.
Who was he? Where were they now? Those questions sparked an irresistible urge in Grace. She had to see Jamie again. He would know who this dark-haired guy was if anybody did. Maybe Jamie could tell her where Hazel was, too.
Grace went back to her own house, and this time, the spirit of purpose infected her all over. She took a shower, washed her hair, and changed into clean clothes. She put on another pair of jeans and her jacket and tennis shoes. She didn’t need hiking boots. She needed mobility. She needed to be ready for anything she encountered out there.
Chapter 8
Jamie stood back and regarded the dead man at his feet. So this was Grace’s husband. Poor devil. He never knew what hit him. Jamie picked him up in his arms and carried him back to the village.
He came to the hill above the knoll and paused. He’d arrived on the scene in time to see the giants pounding the place to smithereens with their clubs, but he only now saw the devastation they’d caused.
Now he beheld the scene of destruction in all its ghastly horror. Of the two dozen houses in the knoll, not one survived intact. The planter sat alone among piles of wreckage. Mounds of thatch sat on top of broken walls. The remains of a cow lay tethered to the blacksmith’s forge not far away.
Jamie took a deep breath and started down the hill. When he got halfway down, the first people appeared on the far side of the brae. Marri walked up the rise and stood looking down on the disaster. The wind caught her hair and her dress.
While Jamie watched, her brother Donnell came to her side, along with Ganny and Malcolm. One by one, the rest of the villagers came into view. They stood on the hilltop and gazed down on what was left of their village. Many burst into tears, and Jock sank onto his knees at the sight.
Jamie kept walking. He put the dead man’s body down on the ground by the planter. He surveyed the village, but he didn’t see any dead people. He could only hope everybody got out before the giants came.
Jock reached the village first. Some of the villagers refused to descend the hill. They watched the men enter and search the wreckage.
Jock came up to Jamie. “Ye awright, laddie?”
“Aye,” Jamie replied. “It’s this poor chap has seen better days.”
Jock frowned. “Who is he?”
“Just a stranger caught in the wrong place,” Jamie replied. “Who’s dead and injured in ’ere?”
“No one,” Jock replied. “They’re all fit and weel. We counted ’em up down the fell tae make sure.”
“We’ll ha’e tae bury him,” Jamie remarked. “I’ll put him in the Cameron plot o’er the castle.”
Jock started. “The castle! Are ye daft?”
“Why no?” Jamie asked. “I dinnae expect any o’ ye tae take a stranger. He’s mine tae tend tae.”
“Ye cinnae take him tae the castle, lad,” Jock insisted. “Do ye mean tae tell me ye ha’e no heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The castle,” Jock replied. “It’s gone.”
“Gone!” he cried. “What do ye mean, gone? It cinnae be gone. It’s muckle big enough tae hit wi’ a sharp stick.”
Jock shook his head. “Ye’ll no go back there, and ye’ll no gi’e this mon a decent burial there, neither. It’s haunted.”
Jamie snorted with laughter. “Now I ken ye’re hangin’ me out the windae. Haunted! Gi’e me a horse, and I’ll take him up. I’ll be back fer tea, so tell Ganny tae keep it warm fer me, fer I’ll be that tired from diggin’ the grave.”
Jock shook his head again. He didn’t laugh. “Ye’re me own nephew, and I’ll no stand aside and let ye gang alaing there. Ye’ll stay away o’ the site, lad, and ye’ll take no dead man tae roam eternity among the wastes. We’ll bury him ’ere. The Wrights ha’e a plot tae spare as Brynn’s father drowned in the loch and was ne’er found. Ye’ll put the stranger there.”
Jamie stared at his uncle. He never knew Jock to get caught up in flights of fancy like this, but he couldn’t deny the man’s sincerity. Whatever was going on, Jock believed the Camerons’ old castle site was haunted, to the point he wouldn’t let Jamie go near it.
Jamie shook those thoughts out of his head. Whatever lay at the bottom of Jock’s misgivings, Jamie would find out about it later. Right now, they had bigger fish to catch. “We’ll ha’e tae get up some shelter fer the people afore nightfall.”
“Aye,” Jock replied. “We’re goin’ intae the mountains tae camp under Piper’s wing.”
“Piper!” Jamie shot back. “What’s that auld stodger got tae do wi’ it?”
“He’ll protect us from the magic,” Jock replied. “These McLeans ha’e cooked up magic tae send these giants against us. They mean tae kick off another war. That’s clear enough, and they mean tae push us down wi’ these giants afore they strike wi’ steel.”
“It’s no the McLeans has done it,” Jamie told him. “The McLeans ha’e come intae our land tae protect us. They wish tae engage the giants for us.”
“Ye dinnae
ken naught aboot it,” Jock replied. “They ha’e been our enemies fer generations. They ha’e been stewin’ o’er our past all this time, and now they ha’e found a way tae strike. It’s the only thing as makes sense.”
“I tell ye, they had naught tae do wi’ it,” Jamie repeated. “Ye didnae see. They attacked the giants and drove ’em away. We’d ha’e all been dead if they hadnae.”
Jock shook his head. “Ye’re ainly a lad. Ye cinnae ken what these McLeans are capable on.”
Jamie turned away. “I think I ken as weel as a mon is able tae.”
Just then, Malcolm, Daniel, and the other men entered the village. They stopped near the planter to take it all in. Jock hailed them. “Ye lads get yer weapons taegether. We mun’ track ’em south afore they get too far ahead.”
“Ye cinnae track ’em,” Jamie told him. “They ha’e done ye no wrong and e’en helped ye.”
“They ha’e wiped out Ballachulish,” Jock fired back. “They would do the same ’ere if ye had yer way. Do ye no see this village flattened afore yer eyes? What’s the matter wi’ ye, lad? Will ye let ’em go after what they ha’e done?”
Jamie heard his voice rising. He tried to get it under control, but he didn’t do a very good job of it. “They did none o’ this. Why’ll ye no believe me? They ha’e no control o’er these giants. The giants attacked and destroyed their Clan seat at Duart Castle on the Isle o’ Mull. The McLeans followed ’em ’ere tae stop ’em, and that’s exactly what they ha’e done. Do ye see any giants around right now?” He swept his hand over the scene. “The giants would still be ’ere now if the McLeans hadnae driven ’em away. Ye and yer lads had done naught tae stop ’em. Ye couldnae. Ye could do naught but run fer the hills and leave the giants tae smash this place tae ruins. It was the McLeans that stood against ’em, no ye.”
Jock’s face hardened. He clamped his mouth shut, turned his face away from Jamie, and said no more. He wouldn’t say another word on the subject. Jamie saw that as clear as day. Jock would persist in believing the McLeans somehow sent the giants against them.
Grace Unchained - Phoenix Throne Book Five Page 5
