The Deepest Cut

by J. A. Templeton

  His hands moved up and down my back, coming to rest at my hip, and he kissed my forehead. He made me feel cherished and loved, and I feared losing these moments.

  “You must do something for me,” he whispered.

  I swallowed hard, terrified of what he was about to ask. “I’ll try.”

  “When your mum comes to you again and shows herself, ask her a question only the two of you would know the answer to. See what her response is. If she can answer you truthfully, then you have cause to believe it is she. If she cannot answer you, then it isn’t her. But you must be sure to keep the answer from your mind at all times, so she cannot read your thoughts and guess the correct answer.”

  He lifted my chin as he stared at me. “If I could, I would bring your mom to you, you know that, don’t you?”

  Touched that he was so concerned, I nodded and managed a smile. I felt exhausted from lack of sleep and from constantly being on edge. My mom’s sudden appearance had been the final straw.

  “Will you stay with me for a while?” I asked, desperate to feel his arms around me as I slept.

  “Of course,” he said, looking relieved by the request.

  “Don’t go anywhere. I need to wash my face and brush my teeth.”

  He nodded, and sat back down on the bed. “I’ll be right here.”

  In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet.

  Cupping my hands beneath the cool water, I started splashing water on my face. The matchbox with the razorblades inside sat in the bottom of the wastebasket. I hadn’t cut earlier, and instead had thrown the blades away, but the urge to cut still pulled at me.

  Would I always have this urge? I wondered.

  Would I be like an alcoholic constantly fight-ing the desire to drink?

  I had promised too many people I would stop, and I needed to move forward with my life. Cutting was only holding me back. I

  reached for a towel, wiped off my face and looked into the mirror. I instantly noticed something odd—a dark spot near my pupil, and as I leaned in, the green irises were turning a dark brown…and my blonde hair was turning brown.

  Icy fear slid along my spine.

  Laria’s face stared back at me, transposed over mine. The corners of her mouth lifted in a wicked smile that chilled me to the bone, but I tried hard not to react. She had messed with me for too long, and had gone too far when she’d manifested as my mom.

  “Stop it,” I whispered, but the image didn’t fade.

  I put my hands over my eyes. “Leave me alone, Laria.”

  Her laughter rushed through me, all around me, so loud I nearly screamed.

  “Riley?” Ian walked straight through the bathroom door, his expression intense as his

  arms came around me, hugging me from behind.

  Laria’s energy was still with us but fading fast. I heard a sound, and Ian must have heard it too, because he straightened and put me at arm’s length.

  The tune started soft, familiar, but not in a good way, and then I heard the chant from my nightmare. “Do you hear it?” I asked, my fingers gripping his arms.

  He nodded. With a resigned sigh, he released me and stepped back into my bedroom. I was right on his heels.

  “Be gone, Laria,” he said wearily. “Leave Riley and her family alone. This is our war, not hers.”

  The chanting stopped immediately.

  “What really happened between the two of you?” I asked, the question eating at me since reading the journal and finding nothing that eluded to anything more than a crush. “I mean, what kind of a relationship

  did you have for her to go so ballistic? Were you lovers?”

  “No. She was a servant and a friend, but nothing more. God’s truth, I never touched her, Riley. Ever. Not even a kiss.”

  The words hadn’t left his mouth when the glass on my bedside table flew towards me.

  The glass shattered against the door, landing in a thousand pieces onto the wood floor. If Ian hadn’t of pushed me out of the way, it would have hit me; maybe even killed me since the bottom was so thick and heavy.

  I heard a startled yelp from downstairs, and then footsteps headed my way. “Riley,”

  Miss Akin yelled, knocking on the door. She sounded winded. “Are you alright, my dear?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay, Miss A. I just tripped on the rug and the glass flew out of my hand.”

  “It sounded like it hit the wall.”

  “The door, actually. Sorry, it slipped from my fingers.”

  The door started to open, but I stopped it with my foot. “There’s glass everywhere, and I don’t want you stepping on the shards. I’ll take care of it. Can you get the broom and dustpan for me?”

  “Of course, my dear. Don’t you move, and be careful not to cut yourself. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  A second later I heard her heading down the stairs.

  Ian stood behind me, and he was touching my hair. Despite the fact I had a maniac ghost trying to kill me, I couldn’t deny the pleasure that rushed through me at such a simple touch. He was the only sanity in my otherwise crazy-ass world.

  “She’s coming back,” I said, bending over and picking up the big pieces of glass on the floor.

  He went down on his haunches beside me.

  “Don’t waste your energy helping me,” I said, wanting him to stay with me tonight. I needed his companionship and his strength, especially with Laria becoming so aggressive.

  “Just pretend I’m not here.”

  Easier said than done, I thought, as Miss Akin tapped on the door.

  I opened the door and she stepped into the room with broom and dustpan in hand.

  “Tsk, tsk. You have bare feet, girl. What are you thinking? Go sit down and get off the floor before you cut your feet.”

  I did as she asked and sat down on the edge of the bed while she cleaned up. “You need to be more careful. You gave me such a fright—I nearly had a heart attack thinking it was that Laria character.” She gave a shiver.

  “It sounded like that glass hit the wall with force. It would have packed quite a punch had it hit you instead.”

  “A good thing it didn’t then,” I said, feeling Ian lay on the bed behind me. The bed

  shifted slightly, and I watched Miss Akin closely to see if she’d noticed, but apparently she hadn’t.

  Ian touched my back, drawing a lazy finger along my spine. Gooseflesh rose all over my body. He wrote a letter, then another, and I quickly realized he was spelling my name. I wanted to turn and smile, or say my name aloud, but I didn’t want to let on to Miss Akin that he was with us.

  “Are you alright, lovie?” Miss Akin asked, glancing at me in a strange way.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Even my voice sounded funny. Huskier.

  She walked into the bathroom, and a second later I heard the pieces of glass hit the wastebasket. My stomach tightened knowing the blades were in the matchbox. I so didn’t need an intervention right now.

  I breathed a silent sigh of relief when she returned with a wet towel and wiped the floor with it. “You’ve been so quiet these past

  few days, I was beginning to worry about you. Worried that Laria isn’t leaving you alone.”

  “I’ve just been hanging out and talking on the phone with friends.”

  “So…are you any closer to helping the young MacKinnon?”

  “I think so.”

  “I think you must do so quickly,” she said, her voice intense. “My intuition tells me that sooner versus later is the best route to take.

  Does that make sense?”

  I nodded, and behind me Ian went very still.

  “Remember, Anne Marie will assist you if she can.”

  “I know.” She dried the floor and stood. “I know you know this, Riley…but just remember, dear, that he is not of this world any longer.”

  I wondered if Anne Marie hadn’t been able to read me like a book during my visit to

  her house and reported back to Miss A. That, or maybe Miss Akin’s intui
tion was right on the money. Whatever the case might be, I wanted her to stop talking right now, to warn her that the guy she was talking about was right behind me, listening to every word.

  “And he deserves to spend eternity in the next life, wherever that might be. It wouldn’t be fair to keep him here with you, no matter how much you like him.”

  I swallowed past the lump that had mys-teriously formed in my throat. Talk about ruining the moment.

  “Well, I’ve said enough about the matter.

  I can tell you are tired, so I shall let you get your rest, my dear.”

  She closed the door behind her, and Ian pulled me toward him and rested his chin on the top of my head. I already missed him.

  Damn, why was life so unfair?

  I waited until Miss Akin’s steps faded before I said, “Will you do me a favor?”

  He pulled away. “Of course.”

  “Will you sit for me while I draw you?”

  The corners of his mouth lifted, making my heart clench. “Yes, of course. I’d be honored.”

  Chapter 23

  I sat in the chair near my bedroom window staring at the drawing of Ian. I had to admit—it was pretty damn good. I caught the angles of his gorgeous face…the high cheekbones, sensual lips…and those intense eyes that mirrored love and desire.

  The same love and desire I felt for him.

  It had been an incredible hour where I could stare at him without feeling awkward or self-conscious, and he had sat there so quietly, just watching me in return. I wished I knew what he was thinking, and wondered if he could read my scorching thoughts.

  Oddly, I didn’t care if he could read me.

  The sexual energy had been charged, and un-fortunately, he had faded and disappeared before we could do anything about it.

  I smiled and set the drawing down, and picked up Laria’s journal. If it wasn’t for Laria, I’d feel no urgency in helping Ian pass

  over right now. I thought about what Miss Akin had said. She had reminded me that what I had with Ian was impossible, that helping him had to come first and that we could have no future.

  But it was tough to remember that when I was looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

  Frustrated, I flipped to the page of the journal where I’d left off when my mother, or Laria, had made her appearance.

  I unconsciously rubbed at the scar that had formed on my leg from where I’d cut myself the day I’d met Ian. Every single time I thought of my mother, or actually Laria’s visit, I felt the familiar temptation to cut.

  If it wasn’t for the fact I hated the afteref-fects of drinking, I’d probably get hammered, but I wasn’t a pretty drunk, and drugs weren’t an option, especially given the fact Laria might come through…and I can’t imagine how freaked out that would make me.

  The desire to get my razor ate at me, making me wonder if the darkness of Laria’s spirit wasn’t coming through to me in different ways.

  Refocusing, I took a deep breath and started reading.

  June 20, 1786

  I overheard Lady MacKinnon talking about Ian and Margot this morning. She said they would make a good match and positively glows every time Margot comes about. He cannot marry her. He cannot marry anyone else. Tonight I will visit with the eld-ers. Another spell is in order, but this time I will take no chances. She must go.

  June 22, 1786

  I have everything I need, but I do not know if I will have to go through

  with it. I caught him staring at me today during dinner. Even Laird MacKinnon’s valet was irritated by the attention Ian paid me this evening.

  June 27, 1786

  I hate him. I hate him with everything I possess. He will pay for what he has done.

  It was the final entry written in a shaky scrawl.

  I frowned. What was I missing? Why had Maggie wanted me to read this journal, if not to find the answers on how to help Ian?

  I started at page one again, flipped through each page, and skimmed each passage twice.

  A breeze blew through the room.

  My heart jolted. My mom stood before me, wearing the same white gown as before,

  but this time she was more of a fine mist than a solid form.

  It was hard to remember that this wasn’t my mom, despite the fact she looked just like her. I couldn’t let on that I knew it was Laria.

  “Have you told Ian you do not trust him and want him out of your life?” she asked.

  “I’m working on it.” I set the journal aside, cleared my throat. “Will you answer a question?”

  “Of course.” Though she smiled, I could hear the hesitation in her voice.

  “What was the name of the song you sang to me at bedtime when I was a little girl?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you test me, Riley?”

  Fear and apprehension crept up my spine. “No…I just forgot the name of the song, that’s all.”

  Just in case she tried to read my thoughts, I focused on another song, literally singing the lyrics in my mind.

  “I’m a little teapot,” she blurted, looking pleased with herself.

  It had been the very song I’d been thinking of. A song I hated from the time I tried to play it on the piano and my piano teacher had snapped a ruler over my knuckles when I couldn’t get the notes right.

  “Why did you really kill him, Laria? Was it because he didn’t like you as much as you liked him?”

  Though she tried to keep her expression blank, I could see anger brimming in her eyes. My mom never looked that sinister when she was mad. Ever. Her gaze shifted briefly to the journal in my hands. “What are you talking about?”

  I clearly heard her Scottish brogue creeping in this time.

  “I know who you are,” I said, digging deep for a strength I doubted I possessed.

  Her eyes widened. “I am your mother, Riley.”

  “You are not my mother, Laria.”

  As I continued to stare at her, I saw my mother’s features fade. The blue eyes turned dark brown, and her hair changed from blonde to Laria’s now familiar long, brown locks.

  “Why did you kill him?” I asked again.

  Laria looked horrible—paler than usual, with deeper, darker hollows beneath her eyes. “Because he deserved to die after what he did to me.”

  “And what did he do to you, exactly?”

  “He made me believe he would marry me.”

  “He never asked you to marry him, and he never touched you.”

  “You know nothing about me or Ian for that matter. He did care for me. He desired me. He loved me!” she said between clenched teeth.

  “And so you killed him because you felt he betrayed you? Why did you feel it

  necessary to curse him as well? Wasn’t murder enough?”

  I could see the fury in her face and hear it in her voice. “If you help him, I swear I shall make you pay for all eternity.”

  “What does that mean? You’ll kill me and curse me as well?” I had no doubt she’d do just that, and the very idea of being an earthbound spirit was frightening.

  “Perhaps,” she said, looking like she’d love to kill me right that second. The wicked smile that tugged at her lips made my blood turn cold.

  “Do you think I fear dying?”

  “No, you don’t fear death…because you should have died in your mum’s place.”

  A fist to the gut would have had the same impact as her cruel words.

  “You are the reason she is not here with you and your family. And now because of you, your brother no longer has a mother, and your father no longer has a wife. You

  wonder why she doesn’t come to you when other spirits can, and yet you know deep down it’s because you killed her. She resents you for taking her away from your father and your brother.”

  Was Laria right? Did my mom stay away because she blamed me for her death?

  I ran a trembling hand down my face.

  “Shut up, Laria.”

  She floated toward me, her feet inches fr
om the floor. I dug my nails into my palms.

  She looked at my fisted hands and smiled.

  “You like to hurt yourself, do you not, Riley?

  In fact, you yearn to hurt yourself now. To take away the pain you feel inside. I understand why.”

  “Leave me alone, Laria. Just go away.”

  “I will never leave you alone. Unless you forget about Ian MacKinnon. Forget about him, Riley, and I shall leave you and your family in peace.”

  Peace. I’d never have peace if I turned my back on Ian. “No,” I said, tired of her threats.

  She slammed me up against the wall, knocking the breath from me. She brought her face inches from mine. I could see the cruelty in her dark eyes, the hatred she felt toward me, and it chilled me to the bone.

  “Forget him, Riley. He is not your concern.”

  Her ice-cold fingers encircled my neck, and I clawed at her hands.

  “Forget him and live, Riley,” she whispered in my ear. “If you help him, I shall kill you…and those you love.”

  A second later she disappeared and I fell onto the floor, my hand at my throat.

  I rushed toward the wastebasket only to find it empty. Shit! Miss Akin must have emptied it.

  I looked for anything sharp. The nail that held my calendar on the wall would work.

  My heart pounded against my chest, sweat forming on my brow. I crossed the room, pulled the nail from the wall, and headed for the bathroom to clean it with rubbing alcohol.

  That’s when I saw the drawing of Ian on the floor, and it was as effective as having a cold glass of water thrown in my face.

  Chapter 24

  I stood with Megan at the glen, and I was seriously buzzed. Drinking more than one beer hadn’t been the smartest thing to do, but it beat cutting, and I needed something to dull the pain and anxiety that had been coursing through me since Laria had mas-queraded as my mom.

  “Look who’s here,” Megan said, motioning to the familiar Peugeot that pulled into the glen. Johan and three of his friends poured out of the car. “Milo told him that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend, so I think he’ll leave you alone.”

  Apparently he’d gotten the message loud and clear because he glanced my way, lifted a brow, and quickly turned away.