The Deepest Cut

by J. A. Templeton

  I walked through the tall trees and looked up at the castle where the blue and white Scottish flag waved from the ramparts. The castle was more intimidating up close than from a distance, and I felt a strange compul-sion to run, mixed with an almost need to explore it, but I stayed rooted to the spot.

  There were no cars around, and I wondered if it was a private residence or one of those castles owned by a trust. Though a part of me wanted to check it out, I didn’t dare. Honestly, I didn’t have the guts. Plus, I didn’t come here for a tour.

  I pulled the small matchbox out of my pocket. My hand shook as I slid the box open

  and unwrapped the gleaming new blade within. Sitting on a soft patch of grass beneath a giant oak tree, I looked around to make sure I was alone.

  Seeing no one, I rolled up the leg of my jeans and slid my sock down. I took a deep, steadying breath, released it, and before I could talk myself out of it, I ran the blade slowly against my skin. I winced at the pain, and watched as blood beaded against the blade. I cut further, deeper, and the release came, taking with it the anxiety and frustration that had been building within me for weeks.

  Blood streamed down my ankle, soaking into my white sock. I set the blade aside and mopped at the crimson stream with the tissue. Damn, I had cut deeper than intended.

  Reaching into the matchbox, I pulled out the Band-Aid.

  I closed my eyes and pushed away the guilt and disgust that always came with

  cutting. I had “officially” quit self-mutilating two months ago, but the move had pushed me over the edge, I reasoned.

  “Bloody hell, what are you doing, lass?”

  I gasped, horrified to hear I was no longer alone. How could I possibly explain what I’d been up to?

  Slowly I turned to find a guy watching me with disbelief in his piercing blue eyes. That disbelief quickly turned to bewilderment as our gazes locked and held.

  Oh my God. It was the ghost from the inn…and he had followed me here.

  Chapter 3

  “You can see me,” the ghost said in a thick Scottish accent. It wasn’t a question.

  I looked away, but it was too late. He knew I had seen—and heard him. He was pumped. I could see the excitement in his eyes.

  I was so screwed. What had I done? Why had I reacted? This was so not the way I wanted to start off in a new town. Now every spirit in Braemar would be on my doorstep wanting to talk to me.

  Pissed at myself, I took the Band-Aid out of the wrapper and placed it over the cut, my mind racing. With a trembling hand, I put the blade back into the bloodied tissue and into the matchbox, and shoved it in my pocket.

  Pulling up my sock, I felt the blood flow over and around the bandage, seeping into my sock and into my shoe. Only one person

  had ever asked me about cutting, and that had been Becca, my best friend since third grade. During P.E. one day last year, Becca had seen the scab on my leg and asked what had happened. I saw the concern in her eyes, and when I told her I’d fallen and scraped myself, I could tell she didn’t buy it.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, looking like he wanted to hug me.

  I stood so fast, I got a head rush and had to grab onto the tree for support.

  “Are you well?” he asked, sounding concerned.

  The lightheadedness passed and I pushed away from the tree, wanting to get as far away as fast as I could. Why had I cut out in the open? What an idiot. I should have waited until tonight, after everyone was asleep. I’m sure there was a lock on my bathroom door.

  Then again, it’s not like a lock would keep a ghost out.

  “Say something.” The ghost followed beside me. “I know you see me. You looked right at me for feck’s sake. Speak to me, lass.

  Say something.” He was starting to sound desperate.

  As desperate as I was to get away from him.

  I pulled the hoodie up over my head, hoping he would just go away.

  He didn’t.

  I rushed from the trees, onto the main road and nearly into the path of an oncoming car that had to swerve to avoid hitting me.

  Jesus, what was wrong with drivers here?

  “Watch where you are going, lass. You could get yourself killed.”

  If only he knew how little I cared about living.

  “What is your name?”

  He was seriously getting on my nerves.

  The ghost stayed with me, and even moved ahead, and then he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road.

  I walked straight through him and smiled inwardly as he cussed under his breath. He was determined—I’d give him that. He was back beside me in seconds, staring at me.

  My footsteps faltered as I came closer to the inn. As much as I’d like to escape to my room and crash out, I couldn’t face the in-quisitive Miss Akin, or my moody brother for that matter. Plus, I had a feeling mister annoying here wasn’t about to leave me alone. I left the main road and veered off, onto the grass and toward the river, hoping the ghost would get the hint I didn’t want his company.

  “I have no intention of leaving, if that is what you are hoping I will do,” he whispered in my ear. “I shall stay with you every second until you acknowledge me.”

  He was so close I felt his icy breath on my neck.

  A small car, full of teenagers drove by and I quickly averted my gaze. The car slowed and I kept walking, away from the road, and over a small, grassy knoll. As promised, the ghost stayed with me.

  I found a place on the river’s edge. I glanced over my shoulder to see the inn, which gave me some comfort. Not that I felt in danger of the ghost at my side.

  He started whistling, and I knew he did it to get under my skin.

  Sitting on a flat stone, I leaned over and picked up a few small rocks. I threw them in-to the river, one by one, and as promised, the ghost didn’t budge. In fact, he stared at me.

  Honestly, I wanted to stare back. In that fleeting moment at the castle when I looked at him, I couldn’t believe how hot he was with his long dark hair and brilliant blue eyes.

  I’d also noticed his bizarre clothing—snug, thigh-hugging black pants, and a pirate-looking shirt that opened in a V at the neck and showed part of his wide chest.

  Knee-high boots finished off the outfit. Given the clothing, I wondered how long he’d been wandering the earth as a spirit.

  “Talk to me, lass. I swear to you that I will not harm you.”

  I liked his deep voice and sexy accent…even if he did speak like he was a Renn Faire regular.

  “And if you do not speak to me, I will not leave your side…ever. I can chatter all hours of the day and night, if you like.”

  My better judgment told me to keep my mouth closed, and yet a part of me was curious. I’d never met a ghost close to my age before. I ran a hand down my face in indecision.

  “Or, I can continue to whistle, or perhaps you prefer singing…”

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned and looked directly at him.

  My heart skipped a beat.

  He was movie star gorgeous, his eyes even more amazing than I remembered from that first glimpse. The brilliant blue orbs were framed by long, thick lashes any girl would kill to have, and he had high cheekbones and nice, full lips. Tall and broad shouldered, he made me feel all fluttery inside.

  As I continued to stare at him, his blue eyes mirrored the same shock as when I’d first looked at him.

  “My name’s Riley Williams, and yes—I see you.”

  “Riley Williams,” he whispered, his lips curving into a grin that made my thighs tighten. “Do you know I have not conversed with anyone for over two-hundred years?”

  I couldn’t even imagine going a day without talking to someone, but two-

  hundred years? “That’s a long time,” I said, and he laughed under his breath.

  “Yes, it is. By the way, my name is Ian MacKinnon.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ian.”

  “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, l
ass.” He tilted his head slightly as he watched me, and I shifted under that intense stare, wondering exactly what he was thinking…especially since he knew my secret. “What is your age, Riley?”

  “Sixteen. How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “So how did you die?” I blurted, before he could start drilling me about why I’d been cutting myself.

  “I was poisoned.”

  Talk about a miserable way to go. Suddenly, I remembered the way my throat and chest had burned earlier when he’d come in-to my room. The pain had been intense.

  “So…why would someone poison you…or was it an accident?”

  “My death was no accident. A servant who worked for my family is the one responsible.”

  I heard of ghosts who had been murdered, hanging around because their souls were restless, and I wondered if that was the case with Ian. “So is that why you stay here?”

  “No, I stay here because I am cursed to roam these lands for all eternity,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Cursed?” I laughed, wondering if he was trying to feed me a load of bullshit, but could tell by the look on his face that he was serious. I had no idea that curses were real. Then again, not so long ago I hadn’t believed ghosts were real either.

  His gaze lingered on my face, making me uncomfortable. I hadn’t even bothered with makeup. “When exactly did you die?”

  “Seventeen hundred and eighty-six.”

  Well, that would explain the clothes.

  “Wow, you’re really old…although I think my house might just be older than you.”

  His top teeth dragged along his bottom lip, and my stomach did a little flip. Even his teeth were perfect; white and straight, which was surprising given he came from a time before braces and white strips. “When we had hunting parties, many of our guests would stay at the inn if there was not room for them at the castle.”

  “The castle?” My heart missed a beat.

  “You lived in the castle?”

  He nodded, pride shining in his eyes.

  “Yes, I did with my father, my mum, my brother, and two sisters.”

  “Are they cursed as well?”

  “No, I am alone.”

  How depressing. I couldn’t imagine being alone for so many years, wandering day after

  day with no one to talk to. “And no one could see you?”

  “There have been times when the living could see me, but they usually are so scared, they scream or yell. You are the first person who has actually acknowledged me.”

  He was becoming more translucent, something I had noticed with the old lady ghost when she came around. At first she would look as human as me, but the longer she stayed, the more her energy began to fade, and so did her form, until she disappeared altogether. Strangely enough, I didn’t want him to go. It was nice to have someone my age to talk to.

  His gaze shifted down to my ankle. “You do not have to answer me if you don’t wish to, but I am curious…why did you hurt yourself?”

  The question surprised me, and as uncomfortable as it made me feel, I answered

  him. “I was in the car with my mom when she died.”

  He sat up and rested his forearms on his knees.

  “My life hasn’t been the same since, and to deal with the pain, I cut myself.”

  He frowned, and I could tell he had questions, but he remained quiet…for all of two seconds. “Explain what you mean?”

  I didn’t see condemnation in his eyes––just a need to understand.

  “When I cut it’s like a release, a way to get my frustration out.”

  “Why would hurting yourself help ease the pain you feel inside?”

  For some reason his desire to understand made me like him even more, but giving an explanation of why I cut was tough. I didn’t even really understand why I did it. I took a deep breath. “Well… when I cut the skin, and feel the pain…and see the blood—it’s like I’m letting out this loud scream.”

  I felt Ian’s cool fingertips on my hand, the slightest touch, but oddly, it felt wonderful and comforting in a way that surprised me. It had been a long time since I’d had a friend to talk to. Our gazes caught and held, and I saw no judgment in those blue eyes, or even sympathy…but understanding. Honestly, I never thought I’d find solace in a ghost’s touch, and my throat grew tight as he continued to watch me.

  “Have you always been able to see spirits?”

  I shook my head. “No. A year ago—when I woke from the wreck, that’s when I saw my first ghost. Oh, and by the way, I saw you earlier at the inn,” I admitted, wanting to return to a less depressing topic.

  He grinned, exposing deep dimples I hadn’t noticed before. How sad he had died so young. What a waste. “You did not let on that you could see me.”

  I wiggled my brows. “That was my intention. Then again, I didn’t expect you to follow me to the castle either.”

  His lips quirked slightly. “I was curious about you and your family. The inn has been empty for years now.”

  “I can see why,” I said before I could stop myself.

  He laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that sent a spike of pleasure through me. “Despite your lack of enthusiasm, I am glad you are here, Riley.”

  And oddly, in that moment, I was glad I had come to Braemar too.

  “Riley!”

  I looked over my shoulder and saw my brother standing nearby, watching me like I’d grown another head. I knew he had heard me talking to Ian, or rather, to myself. Knowing how bad it looked, I felt my face turn hot, and I came slowly to my feet, brushing at my

  butt, trying to think of what to say to explain myself.

  “I shall see you soon, Riley,” Ian said, fading faster by the second.

  Shane’s gaze scanned the vicinity. “Miss Akin sent me to find you. She has dinner ready.”

  “Dinner?” I said absently.

  “You’ve been gone for almost two hours.”

  Two hours? It hadn’t felt like two hours.

  The time had flown by.

  All right, I’m coming.” I refrained from looking over my shoulder one more time to see if Ian was still there.

  Chapter 4

  I awoke at eight-thirty to the sound of Miss Akin humming.

  “It’s about time you are up, love. You need to get ready to register for school.”

  I sat up in bed. School? “But school doesn’t start for weeks.” The very thought of starting a new school made me sick to my stomach, especially since my grades had taken a serious dive in the past year.

  “Yes, but you register for your classes today.”

  Could my life suck more? I wasn’t ready to face my peers, who undoubtedly would completely pick me apart.

  “Is my dad here?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Work was his life.

  Always had been, always would be. Moving to Scotland wouldn’t change that.

  “No, he left about seven. Said he’d see you tonight.” She set a pile of folded laundry

  on my dresser and clapped her hands together. “You had best get moving. I know how young women are when it comes to primping.”

  She so didn’t know me. I wasn’t a primper. I needed thirty minutes to get ready, from the time I entered the shower, to the time I walked out the door. I was hungry though, and my stomach chose that moment to growl.

  Miss Akin smiled. “I tell you what—you get in the shower and I’ll set to work on making you breakfast. How does eggs and haggis sound?”

  “Haggis?” I’d heard horror stories about the Scottish version of sausage, made of sheep heart and other parts. “No thanks, but I wouldn’t mind some eggs and toast.”

  Miss Akin looked a little disappointed I wasn’t taking her up on the haggis, but I couldn’t eat anything that got my sensitive gag reflex going. “Is Shane up?”

  “Yes, and already gone.”

  Now that surprised me. Shane usually slept until noon.

  “He said something about seei
ng you over at the school.” She picked up my dirty socks and frowned. “Did you cut yourself, love?”

  My stomach clenched. Normally when cutting I was careful, hiding the blood by either tossing out or washing the soiled clothes myself, but in my excitement after meeting Ian, it had completely slipped my mind. “No. Why?”

  “There’s dried blood on your sock.”

  “I must have cut myself shaving.”

  “My goodness, it must have been quite a gouge to leave such a stain. Be careful next time, my dear.”

  “I will,” I said, scrambling off the bed. I pulled on some sweatpants and opened up the curtains, looking out at the castle. I was even more curious about the castle now that

  I knew Ian had lived there. I admit I wanted to know more about him, and already couldn’t wait to see him again. “Miss Akin, is the castle open to the public?”

  “Usually sections of the castle are open for visitors this time of year, but the family who owns it is on holiday, and while they’re away they’ve decided to tackle some much-needed renovations. Only the construction crew is allowed in for now.”

  Disappointed, I asked, “When does the family return?”

  “The end of the month, I believe. Just in time for school.”

  I had no intention of waiting weeks to see the castle.

  “You get in that shower and I’ll get to making your breakfast,” she said, nudging me toward the bathroom.

  Within thirty minutes I had showered and dried my hair. I had no idea what was in fashion in Braemar, Scotland, so I thought

  I’d play it safe with name-brand jeans, a baby-blue T-shirt, and tennis shoes. My hair wouldn’t cooperate, so I pulled it up into a high ponytail, and grabbed a lightweight jacket out of my closet.

  I found Miss Akin in the kitchen, humming to herself. I wolfed down a piece of toast, wanting to get to the school early, and hopefully, find Shane.

  I left the house and crossed the road, passing by a restaurant that was packed and a store where a few old men sat out on a bench; talking and smoking. On every street corner flower baskets full of colorful blooms hung from old-fashioned lampposts. I hated to admit it, but the little town had a charm most cities lacked. I was used to strip malls and subdivisions, not quaint houses on huge lots, and miles upon miles of open green space.