Spirits and Spells (Warlocks MacGregor Book 5)

by Michelle M. Pillow

  Charlotte stopped suddenly as the apparition appeared in front of her. The face had changed from the docile maiden to a frightening lady with sunken eyes and cheeks. The pupils of her eyes were completely white and her skin moved as if covered by tiny insects.

  “No bother,” the ghost stated nonchalantly. Her brown hair flew, enveloping her shoulders and then spiraling around her features, even in the still forest where there was neither wind nor breeze to speak of. “We’ll do this the hard way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Niall had followed Charlotte on foot, keeping his distance while watching her as she went up the hill toward Lydia’s house. He’d wanted to make sure she was safe. Aside from a ghost he’d seen wandering around a few times, no one bothered her. It went against everything in him to tell her the truth, especially since he’d worked so hard to hide it. MacGregors had to keep their magick a secret from the rest of the world.

  There had been something in her eyes when she’d looked at him. She’d appeared so lost. But more than that, she recalled memories that should not have been there. An erased memory was supposed to be gone forever. They didn’t simply grow back.

  At least she’d gone to Lydia. She’d be safe there.

  He paused, thinking of going back to watch the house, just to be sure Charlotte stayed inside. But she was at work and would be there all day.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and continued through the trees on the path leading from Lydia’s house to the MacGregor estate.

  “Cait MacGregor,” his aunt answered.

  “Ya were right. Charlotte is different. She remembers,” Niall said without bothering with a greeting.

  “Remembers what?” Cait whispered.

  “Almost everything. Enough to demand I fill in the blanks of her missing time,” he admitted. “Dar’s luck infusion clearly affected her.”

  “That’s not enough to regrow memories,” Cait said, “but with all the spells we’ve been casting to help her through this, and nearly dying from being bombarded with Iain’s powers thanks to the lidérc…who knows what’s happening inside that poor lass?”

  Niall could still feel the fear he’d taken from Charlotte. At least that crazed look hadn’t returned to her eyes along with the memories. That was something.

  “Where are ya now?” Cait asked.

  “I just left Erik and Lydia’s and I’m on my way up to the estate. I followed Charlotte there. She should be fine with her friend.”

  “Good thing Erik was able to cast spells to cover up the gremain damage,” Cait said. “That is one less piece of wreckage we need to explain.”

  “Da called early this morning and asked me to handle reports of a water sprite migration. I’m stopping by the mansion to pick up a few potion bottles and enchanted blades. Charlotte’s not going to be happy, so I need ya to go to Lydia’s and keep an eye on her. Petrify her until I get back if ya have to, but promise me there will be no more memory-erasing spells, or potions, or luck infusions until I can handle it.”

  “No, lad, ya stay where ya are. I’ll send Murdoch to handle the sprites. We need ya to deal with Charlotte.”

  Niall stopped walking and looked at the ground. He took a deep breath. A deep part of him wanted to turn and go to Charlotte, eager to be near her. Another, deeper part, told him to refuse and run. He would rather battle a vampire, or fight a werewolf, or even clean out the goblin den smelling up the back gardens.

  “Don’t ask this of me,” he whispered, dropping the phone away from his mouth.

  “Niall?” Cait insisted. “Did ya hear me?”

  “Aye,” Niall answered. “I hear ya.”

  “Good. I’ll do all I can, but that lass is a ticking bomb. Ya know what ya saw inside her. She can’t have that kind of power.”

  “Cait, I hear ya,” he said more forcefully. “I’ll leave it to ya to explain to Da why I can’t handle the sprites.”

  “Don’t ya worry about your da. I’ll tell him we need ya here, close to the family to deal with the aftermath of this estate mess. Your brothers can repair the home. Margareta and I will charm the town.”

  “Don’t ya think there is enough magick floating around?” Niall turned to look back toward Lydia’s house, hidden by trees. His eyes shifted as he focused his attention, but he could not see through trees. A familiar smell caught his attention, and he veered off the footpath into the underbrush.

  “Female charm, not magick,” Cait corrected. “We women have a delicate way about us. Something men know little about.”

  “I beg to differ, Cait.” Niall sniffed, following the trail. He braced the phone with his shoulder and let claws grow from his nail beds. He kept his tone even, not giving away any concerns. “We men know the dangers of female charms all too well.” He bent under a low-hanging branch. “Why do ya think we’re always obeying?”

  “Good, then ya won’t have any problem obeying this order. Wait, hold on…” Cait’s words became muffled as she talked to someone else.

  While she was distracted, Niall used the opportunity to run several paces, leaping over the brush to land silently in a small clearing. His uncle, Raibeart, slept naked on the ground using a fallen tree limb as a blanket. Thankfully, leaves covered his privates. Niall grimaced and retracted his claws.

  “Handle Charlotte. Ya know what needs to be done. I need ya to be strong for the family, Niall,” Cait continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “The ghosts will wander off on their own eventually, but make sure that wraith doesn’t cause any problems, and exterminate the goblin—”

  “Eh, now, is that any way to talk about Uncle Raibeart?” Niall teased, purposefully misunderstanding what she meant by the goblin. Raibeart made a small noise in his sleep and moved his hand to cover something on his chest. Niall leaned to the side to better see.

  “I’m glad ya think this is funny,” she scolded.

  Raibeart’s hand moved as if petting something. “Fine, Cait, I’ll do as ya ask, but answer me one important thing.”

  “Aye?”

  The gremain with Raibeart’s underwear around his neck lifted his head from Raibeart’s chest before snuggling down and going back to sleep. “If Raibeart gets with that gremain chasing his naked arse through the forest last night, would that make it an elder, and would I have to take orders from—?”

  Cait hung up without answering.

  Niall chuckled and couldn’t resist lifting his phone to take a picture of the couple before moving to wake him. He nudged Raibeart’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Eh, rise and shine, buttercup.”

  Raibeart groaned and swatted at the boot. The movement caused the gremain to groan and jump up. The creature hissed at Niall before taking off into the woods. Niall didn’t give chase.

  “Raibeart, get up,” he ordered. “Cait needs ya at the house. It’s an emergency.”

  His uncle sat up and lifted his arms into a boxing stance. His eyes didn’t open, as he said, “I’m on it.”

  “We’re being attacked by giant chickens. A whole swarm of them,” he said. “And they’re being led by a wolpertinger. It’s a mess. Feathers are everywhere. The chickens are winning. You’re our last hope.”

  Raibeart opened one eye as if to test the light and scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly. “Never fear, wulver, I will save the family.” He stumbled in the wrong direction.

  “That way,” Niall corrected, pointing toward the mansion.

  Raibeart blinked, looked around, then nodded. He marched naked through the woods.

  Niall laughed softly to himself before turning to his current task. His mood instantly sobered. Under his breath, he whispered, “I’m sorry, lass. I would take all of this back if I could. I would rewind time if it would fix your future. I promise, as soon as this is over, I will never darken your doorstep again.”

  If he were a smart man, he’d have insisted on dealing with the water sprite migration. Charlotte Carver was one of the most difficult assignments he’d ever been given.
He didn’t think straight when she was near her, and now he was talking to himself as if she were standing in front of him—not that he could ever tell her those words to her face.

  “Oh, lass, ya deserve better than the hand you’ve been dealt.”

  “Charlotte, please answer me!” Lydia’s yell disrupted his thoughts. “I can explain.”

  He hurried through the woods to find her. “Lydia?”

  “Niall? Is that you?” Lydia appeared before him on the edge of the trees by her house. She had kind blue eyes and a giving heart. If anyone was going to complement the stubborn personality of his oldest brother, Erik, it was Lydia. “Have you seen Charlotte? She was just here, but she took off. I can’t find her.”

  “What do ya mean, she took off?” Niall quickly stepped toward Lydia’s home.

  “She knows, Niall! I thought you said erased memories couldn’t come back? You all told me that this was for the best, and I believed you. I know what taking in Iain’s magick did to her. I know why I can’t invite her around when Iain is nearby. I follow all the rules and…” Lydia took a deep, panicked breath and opened her mouth as if to continue her rush of words.

  Niall held up a hand to stop her. “What did she say?”

  “She knows I’ve been lying to her.” Tears entered Lydia’s eyes. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to do, and now my best friend hates me. She could barely look at me. I should never have trusted you. I should have demanded you left her mind intact. I—”

  “Ya are worked up. I will take care of it. Which way did she go?”

  “I don’t know! Into the woods, I think. I would have seen her if she took the path to town.” Lydia reached to grab hold of his arm. The desperation in the gesture took him by surprise. “Niall, please, no more. Don’t take anything else from her. I don’t want her to hate me, but it was the clearest I’ve seen her in a long time. Maybe she’s coming back to us. Maybe she’ll be alright this time.”

  Niall knew his personality often came off as gruff and unfriendly. He cleared his throat and did his best to comfort his sister-by-marriage. “I will…”

  “You will what?” Lydia asked.

  “I give ya my word I will not harm her.” He couldn’t meet her steady gaze as he slowly pulled his arm from her grip.

  Lydia let him go. “Thank you, Niall. I know that goes against your instincts, but I also know you won’t break that promise.”

  “My instincts are to protect the family. That is my sole purpose.” Niall let his eyes shift as he looked around the area. “Ya may want to go back inside. I can track her much more easily if I shift forms, and I don’t want ya to be frightened of me.”

  “Niall, you do know that you’re more to this family than our protector, don’t you?” Lydia leaned to the side, forcing him to meet her gaze.

  Lydia meant well, but this was not a subject he wished to speak to her about.

  “I won’t hurt ya.” Despite the assurance, he was prepared to see the fear in her eyes as he released his hold on the wolf. Fur sprouted over his flesh. His bones cracked, breaking as he shifted, and his jaw elongated to fit sharpened teeth. Lydia gasped and he heard her stumbling a few steps away from him. He had known she’d be frightened to see his transformation into the wolf-human hybrid.

  Niall fell forward. He would be able to track Charlotte easier in this form, but it would take all of his concentration to make sure other primal instincts didn’t try to take hold. It had been a long time since he’d let himself run wild.

  He took a deep breath, detecting the faintest trace of her scent before running after her. The fresh air and soft ground felt like freedom, and it tempted him to forget his purpose. That was the trouble with the wolf. Its primal instincts were always ready to take over.

  As he moved, other smells caught his attention—the rotting den of the goblin, a nest of gremains, the faintest trace of leprechauns and tar. The woods were filled with supernatural traces and he was unable to hold on to Charlotte in the midst of it. He stopped, his chest heaving for breath as he panted from his run. There were nearly eighty acres out here, but she was a human and couldn’t get too far on foot.

  Even if the wolf shifter enjoyed tracking, as a man, he was overcome with fear that danger would befall her. The woods were not safe, not until he had a chance to clean them up. Niall listened to the forest, to scratches and chirps. The distant beat of Raibeart’s feet echoed behind him as the man shuffled through fallen leaves and twigs.

  Try as he might, he could not detect Charlotte. She’d simply disappeared.

  Chapter Nine

  Charlotte stared at Niall, unable to move as she watched him reaching into the air to pop her memories like iridescent bubbles with the tip of his finger. A bonfire burned in the sheriff’s lawn—pop. Lydia screamed—pop. Erik’s face shifted into that of a were cat—pop.

  He paused, watching a memory of when she’d secretly paid for Lacy Baxton’s restaurant tab. The woman raised her three siblings like they were her own after their parents died. Only Alana knew about Charlotte doing that. He lowered his finger. Another memory drifted past him, this time of Charlotte dropping off canned goods at a food bank. Then of her reading alone in the park.

  “I’m sorry, lass, I would take all of this back if I could,” he whispered. He waved his hand, pushing the bubbles aside, leaving those memories intact as he searched for more.

  The image of Charlotte drinking from the poison goblet appeared, followed by others.

  Pop.

  Pop.

  Pop. Pop.

  Charlotte gasped and swatted her hands to stop him, only to realize she lay on the ground in the middle of the woods. Statues surrounded her, overgrown with vines in what appeared to be part of an old garden. There was only one place in Green Vallis that would look like this—the MacGregor estate. The property had about six acres of gardens, some of which resembled forests. Weeping willows cried and all sorts of creatures, real and imagined, hid behind moss-covered boulders the size of cars. It wouldn’t be unheard of to have a statuary hidden somewhere inside them.

  Only…how did she get here?

  Not again.

  Charlotte touched her head, trying to recall the last thing she remembered before passing out. She’d been so angry at Lydia, but even more hurt by the betrayal. She moaned as she rolled onto her side. Her limbs shook as she tried to push herself up from a broken stone slab partly buried in the ground.

  An eerie quiet settled over the chilly woods. She was thankful for the sweater. Tree limbs cast shadows as they blocked the late afternoon sun. Hours must have passed since she left Lydia’s. Orange light speckled the ground. The sound of a raven squawked in the distance, only to be answered by another, back and forth as if they had a conversation.

  Charlotte stumbled to sit on a stone bench. The statue before her caught her attention. The name “Helena” was carved in the base. The stone was smooth marble, shaping a youthful yet tragic figure. The only mar was the hairline crack across the statue’s chest. She recognized the woman it depicted—the English ghost who’d stopped her in the woods.

  “You can’t trust them. If you do, you’ll end up like me, here, in this place.”

  Charlotte gasped to find the spirit of Helena sitting next to her on the bench. “Who?”

  “You don’t need me to tell you that. You already know.” Helena didn’t appear quite like the other spirits Charlotte had seen. There was more animation in her features, and her skin seemed to flow like sand in the wind even when she wasn’t moving. “I feel the empty places in you.”

  “Is this your memorial?”

  “It is my trap.” Helena faded, only to reappear before her statue. She looked up at herself. “Look at that foolish face.”

  “I think you look beautiful.” Charlotte tried being nice, even as the ghost made her nervous. It was the truth. The statue of the woman appeared delicate and innocent, her waif features awash with sadness and her pose inquisitive; as if asking for reasons why she was froze
n in her current form.

  Helena began to tremble. The flowing pattern of her skin blew apart, becoming a storm of white mist. When she passed over Charlotte it felt like a blast of sandy heat, not cold like most ghosts.

  Charlotte pressed a palm against her chest as her heart squeezed painfully. The discomfort only lasted a few seconds. Helena swirled around the statue, weathering the stone face until it was pitted and malformed.

  Simply defacing the statue wasn’t enough. Helena shoved it from its pedestal and hovered above the stone as it crashed. She began screaming, a high-pitched, horrible sound that was nothing like the soft accent of moments before.

  Charlotte covered her ears and Helena shot off into the forest like a streak of light. The screaming became faint as the ghost flew away.

  When the spirit was gone, Charlotte ran down a narrow path leading from the destroyed statue. The path split in two directions and she wasn’t sure which to take.

  The woods were too quiet. In stark contrast, her breathing sounded abnormally loud because of it. A shiver ran down her spine, bringing with it a feeling of dread. She felt the spooky sensation of being watched by eyes from the depths of the shadows. She shook the eerie feeling as she tried to collect herself.

  Charlotte tried to listen to the forest for a clue as to which way to go. A rabbit darted past her feet and she jumped back, startled. She looked to see what had caused the creature to run and decided it might be safest to follow it.

  Suddenly, the rabbit came back, running past her toward Helena’s statue, as if no direction was safe.

  Charlotte didn’t move, except for the shaking in her limbs. She started to back up to follow the frightened rabbit away from the dark path. Suddenly, Helena’s scream pierced the woods from one direction. Seconds later, the sound of running feet came from the other.

  Charlotte moved off the path to hide behind a tree. She hugged close to the bark. The glow of Helena’s body lit up the trees as the spirit neared. A growl sounded and then a loud thud. Something heavy was dragged across the dirt and leaves.