Call of the Clan

by Patti Wiggington

  "That would be nice,” he smiled.

  I slipped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind me. It wasn't until I was halfway down the stairs before I realized that something Evan had said didn't quite make sense.

  Trish had told me at dinner that Evan was mad at me for kissing Cayden Spalding. Evan, on the other hand, had just said he'd been in his room, asleep, all day. If that were the case, when would he have gotten the chance to tell Trish he was mad at me? Not only that, his room was at the back of the house, and he couldn't have seen the Gathering from his window.

  One of them was being less than truthful, and that bothered me.

  * * * *

  Raven decided to hold her séance in the Museum From Hell, which I hadn't even entered in a few weeks. The change in the room was astounding. Cayden Spalding had certainly done his job well.

  The brown wall-to-wall carpet had been torn up, revealing an expanse of hardwood floor. Someone, Cayden, no doubt, had taken the time to restore the wide planks, which gleamed in the light of the multitudinous candles Raven had lit. A few strategically placed rugs were scattered about to diminish the sound in the room, but positioned discreetly so as not to detract from the look of the floor. The heavy maroon curtains had been laundered, and were in fact not maroon but rather festive red brocade. They were tied back, leaving the tall windows exposed, and a cool breeze blew in from the loch.

  The glass cases had been repaired and cleaned of their oily residue, and red velvet cloths were strewn artfully to hold the treasures within. The swords on the wall and the suits of armor had been freed of their rust, and polished until they shone. I moved a fat three-wick candle aside, and peered into one of the display cases.

  "Wow,” I breathed.

  "Impressive, aren't they?” asked Caitriona with a wink.

  I stared down at a collection of bronze and gold jewelry. They were simple, yet incredibly elegant. Cait pointed at one of the bracelets.

  "That's a torque,” she said. “It's probably fifteen hundred years old. I was still living here when they unearthed it."

  "Really?” I asked, my interest piqued. “What was it, an archaeological]dig or something?"

  She nodded. “Sort of. Old Ranald was out wandering about one day on the moors and stumbled over something. When he looked down to see what he'd mashed his toe on, he found this. Anyway, Cayden identified it, and a team from Oxford came up, trying to see if there were any more like it about. Thought they might have found some sort of ancient village,” she laughed.

  "What did they find?” I asked curiously.

  "Well, that's the thing of it, aye? They didn't find anything. Tore up a lot of pasture land digging, but never found anything else. These other bits were here already, from the time of Dugald and Lachlan."

  "That's weird. How would it have gotten out in a field all by itself?"

  She shrugged. “Well, the experts from Oxford decided it had probably been dropped by some traveler around the year 400, and just lay there in the dirt until the day old Ranald stubbed his toe on it.” She glanced around, and lowered her voice. “Your Da, now.... Jamie thought there might be something more to it than that."

  I jumped, startled by the mention of my father. “Something more, like what?"

  "I don't know,” Cait murmured. “But he was intrigued by it. Said he thought there must be more of it lying about, and that all a body had to do was look for it. Loot, he said it was.” She shook her head with a quiet laugh. “Poor Jamie. He never did get to go find his buried treasure, though."

  I noticed there was a small dampness in her eyes, and wondered for a moment if perhaps Caitriona Spalding too had been a little bit in love with my father. It sounded as though everyone who knew him adored Jamie.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Raven flittering about like a tall redheaded fairy. She lit some kindling in the fireplace, and tossed some sort of sparkly powder into the hearth, where a lovely soft smell began to emanate from the flames. It was the familiar sandalwood scent I had inhaled so often at the Air Apparent, with Gil and Mark gliding about lighting incense. Perfumed fairy dust, Gil called it, and I grinned at the memory.

  Someone had rolled a large table to the center of the room and covered it with an interesting collection of gauzy scarves and cloths. I half expected to see a crystal ball in the center of it, but apparently we weren't going to take things that far.

  Because Raven wasn't quite ready for us yet, Emily poked my shoulder and asked me to join her outside for a smoke. I wasn't sure I really wanted a cigarette, since I'd been doing well enough without them, and I was pretty certain she didn't need one, but I agreed nonetheless.

  We sat out on the front steps.

  "That's really not good for your pregnancy, you know,” I pointed out as Emily lit a cigarette and inhaled daintily.

  "Yuck. I know, but I can't help it. I haven't had one since the other night, and I'm getting a bit twitchy. Want one?"

  I sighed, and took one, going against my better judgment. “So, have you decided what you're going to do? About the baby, I mean?"

  She frowned. “I wrote Danny a letter, but I haven't mailed it yet. I'm scared he might ditch me, you know?"

  "Well, if he does, you're better off without him,” I told her firmly. I glanced behind me, to make sure the front door was closed. “Listen, Emily, I need to ask you something."

  She arched her brows, waiting, and I noticed she wasn't really smoking her cigarette. She was just holding it, for comfort.

  "Sandie wanted to talk to me about something at the Council, the morning we found her body,” I said, looking at her sternly. “I still think you might know something about it."

  Emily shook her head, but the way she wouldn't meet my eyes told me she was lying.

  "Okay,” I agreed. Time to try a different approach. “You have any idea who might have trashed my room tonight?"

  Emily blinked. “No! It wasn't me, if that's what you're asking! I was in the parlor with my Mam and the girls!"

  "Calm down, Emily. I wasn't accusing you. I was just wondering if you knew anything,” I finished lamely.

  She gave a visible sigh of relief, and smiled at me shyly. Suddenly her eyes widened behind her glasses, and, with a small squeak, she clapped her hand over her mouth.

  "What?” I looked around in alarm but didn't see anyone.

  "I thought of something!” she whispered excitedly.

  I waited patiently, wondering how long it would be before Raven came out to find me.

  "I bet I know what it was Sandie wanted to tell you,” she said proudly.

  "Go ahead, Emily."

  "Well, the day before she come to see you, me and her was out at the old priory ruins,” she said.

  "The priory? At Ben Morag? What on earth were you doing out there?” I exclaimed. It didn't really seem like the kind of place where teenagers would hang out, unless it was to get high and make out. Apparently I wasn't far off.

  "We ... er, Sandie had gotten some.... “Emily paused, looking troubled. “You won't tell my Mam, will you?"

  I shook my head. I began to envy Mary Much and the fact that she was basically ignorant of her daughter's activities, while I, on the other hand, had to carry the burden of being Emily's confessor.

  "Well, we went down there to have a toke. She'd gotten a bag of really lovely stuff from a boy she knew in Arrochar, and we thought if we went down there, it would be safer than smoking around here,” Emily said, not embarrassed in the least. “Cayden, you know?"

  "Cayden?” I asked dumbly.

  "Aye, he doesn't hold with that. He'd've given the both of us a good thumping, and then turned us in to Michael Kerr if he'd caught us."

  "Okay,” I said, wishing she would just get on with it. “So you two were at the priory ruins, uh, toking up, and...?"

  "Oh, Sandie said something about how nice a hiding spot it was, ‘cause you know, we've been going there for years, since we was wee lasses, and then she said the queerest thing,” Emi
ly mused.

  "Emily, what on earth is it?” I asked, exasperated.

  "Well, she said that in the right weather, you could see all the way up the shore to Kilgraeme itself, and that people ought to be more careful doing what they were doin', out where folks could see,” Emily said.

  I was stumped. “Who did Sandie see, and what were they doing, Emily? That doesn't make sense."

  Emily shrugged. “She didn't tell me that, now, did she? Alls I know is what I told you."

  She stubbed out her cigarette, and popped the kitchen door open. I followed, ready to face Raven and her séance.

  Raven Spalding was done with whatever mystical preparations she needed, because when we reached the Museum From Hell, everyone was seated. I slid into an empty chair between Caitriona and Mrs. Much, and Emily sat on the opposite side of her mother. Mack Piper sat beside Emily, and I wondered if the man ever went home. It was becoming more and more obvious that he had a crush on Mrs. Much. It wasn't just her cooking he admired.

  Directly across from me, between Mack and Raven, sat Cayden Spalding. He'd vanished after my excursion through Evan's window earlier in the evening. It had been a busy night. He stared at me intently, and I began to get a little uncomfortable.

  I decided to ignore him.

  "Let us all join hands, then” commanded Raven.

  I was feeling more than a little skeptical. This was the kind of stuff that my brother believed in, but it was hard for me to take any of it seriously. It was only out of respect for Raven that I didn't burst into peals of uncontrollable giggles at the whole situation.

  Caitriona's hand was cool and dry. Mary Much's was warm and sweaty.

  "Spirits of Kilgraeme, hear us now,” intoned Raven solemnly. “We gather together to call you, to ask your counsel."

  There was no sound but the soft rustling of the breeze, wafting in through the windows.

  "Sprits of Kilgraeme,” called Raven, “can you hear us?"

  There was a loud bang, and Emily and her mother shrieked. I jumped as well, and so did Caitriona.

  "Look,” whispered Cait, motioning with her head to the display cases. A small, black-handled knife had fallen from the wall, landing on one of the glass boxes, narrowly missing a cluster of flickering candles. I shivered. Even if Raven had somehow made it happen, it was still spooky.

  Raven continued. “There is a spirit here. Spirit, are you willing to communicate with us?"

  The window directly behind me flew shut with a loud crash, and this time I was the one who screamed. I was halfway out of my seat when Mrs. Much tugged on my hand. “Don't stand up, nor let go of my hand,” she whispered. “'Twill break the bond, aye?"

  Quivering, I sat back down slowly, my heart pounding. I snuck a look at Cayden Spalding, expecting to see him laughing at my gullibility. Instead, he was looking at me with an expression of undisguised interest. He blinked owlishly at me, and I stared right back. Two could play this game.

  "Spirit?” asked Raven politely, as if she were calling a waitress to refill her coffee cup. “Is there one here at Kilgraeme who is in danger?"

  If I hadn't seen it happen, I would never have believed it. Emily Much gave a gasp, and arched her spine, her head flung abruptly back. When her head lolled forward again, showing her face, she looked, I swear this, on the graves of all my parents, like a mirror image of yours truly. I was staring into my own eyes, only they were Emily's.

  I was too scared to move.

  Mrs. Much suppressed a scream, but didn't drop her hold on Emily's hand.

  Slowly, Emily turned towards Cayden Spalding.

  "You've the look o’ my Will,” she said gently, and her voice was different. While Emily normally sounded like the squeaky teenager that she was, this was the voice of an older woman, a wiser one. It was deeper and huskier, and just more ... knowing.

  Cayden watched Emily warily, but didn't say anything.

  Emily, or whoever she was, looked at Raven and Caitriona with bland amusement. “Oh, by the saints, Spaldings all o’ you,” she murmured. “But you,” she said, turning back to Cayden, “you are the one I need to speak with, aye? You're the one who answers the call of the clan, the protector of the Murray, are you not?"

  "Aye,” he croaked. He didn't look as frightened as I felt, but I could see a vein throbbing in his temple, and his fair skin looked paler than normal.

  Emily nodded. “The Murray's in danger, aye? You know it as well as I do,” she said. Smiling, she settled her gaze on me once more, and I tried not to scream. Little, pale, mousy Emily Much had transformed into my own reflection, and it was the scariest damn thing I'd ever seen. “Your Da nearly worked it out, you see. He was close, he was.” She shook her head sadly. “Tis a pity, ‘bout poor Jamie."

  "Spirit,” asked Raven gently. “Do you have a name?"

  "Aye, I do, an’ you know me, d'you not? I'm Catharine Spalding,” Emily replied in her new, womanly voice. Cayden jumped visibly.

  "And who is putting the Murray in danger, Catharine? Do you know?"

  Emily shook her head. “I don't know, but ‘tis always someone close to us, aye? Trust them that you fear, and fear them you trust. Tis always one we care about that does us in, in the end,” she said sadly.

  I felt cold chills coursing through my body.

  "Why, Catharine?” I heard Raven say. “Why does someone wish harm upon the Murray?"

  Emily, Catharine, turned and looked at me once more, eyes flashing. “There's some would say you belong here, lady. But then again, maybe you ain't meant to be the Murray after all, aye?” She gave a soft, throaty laugh.

  I was petrified, unable to move.

  Cayden Spalding leaned forward. “Catharine,” he whispered hoarsely. “You must tell me, aye? ‘Tis my sworn duty to protect her, as we've always done for them."

  Emily froze, staring at him in alarm. “I must go,” she whispered. “I must get back. Watch carefully, Cayden Spalding,” she ordered. Suddenly, Emily's eyes rolled back in her head, and she flopped face-first onto the table.

  Mary Much screamed and let go of my hand as she raced to her daughter's side.

  * * * *

  Catharine Murray was to be married, and all the old ladies of Kilgraeme swore they had never seen a more beautiful bride. Finally, she was marrying that handsome Will Spalding, with his hair like fire and his long legs. The ladies whispered amongst themselves, speculating on Will's virility.

  Dugald adjusted Will's collar for him. “You look nervous, my friend. Surely the prospect o’ marrying my sister isn't so frightening?"

  Will shook his head. “It's not that, Dugald. Tell me, do you ever look at Susannah and wonder how you came to be so fortunate?"

  "Every day."

  "It's the same when I look at Catharine. I look at her and think my heart would just rip in two if she didn't love me,” Will admitted. “How can I deserve someone so fine?"

  Dugald laughed. “The two of you were meant for one another, Will. We've all known it since Catharine was just a wee sprout followin’ you about Kilgraeme."

  There was a knock at the door, and Malcolm poked his head in. “Brother, you look dashing.” He turned to Dugald. “Lachlan wants to see you."

  Dugald sighed. “It can wait until after Catharine's married, aye?"

  Malcolm shrugged, and left without a sound. Moments later, Lachlan himself stepped into the room.

  "Brother, I asked Mal to bring you to me,” he said. “You chose not to come?"

  Dugald brushed some dust from the back of Will's velvet coat. “I said I'd meet with you after the wedding. You seem to have forgotten, brother, that you are not yet the Murray."

  Lachlan's fist shot out, catching Dugald in the jaw. Will leapt, knocking Lachlan to the ground. Malcolm burst back into the room. “Will! Stand down,” he ordered.

  "He has no right,” Will growled, eyes flashing. “No right at all."

  "I'm well enough, Will,” Dugald said, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing his jaw. “Lachlan,
whatever you wish to say to me shall wait,” he said firmly. He watched as Mal escorted Lachlan from the room.

  "As always, I thank you,” Dugald grinned, clapping Will on the back. “Now, let's go marry you off to my sister."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Other than a bruised upper lip, Emily showed no residual effects of her experience at the séance, at least not any physical ones. She claimed to have no recollection whatsoever of the visit from Catharine, and her mother ushered her promptly off to bed.

  Exhausted, I made my way to the third floor. It wasn't until I reached my room that I remembered the hateful destruction that had taken place there. Vowing to get up early and clean up the mess, I retreated to a spare room on the second floor and slept restlessly.

  I woke before sunrise, and to my amazement discovered that Mary Much and Emily had gotten up early to clean the third floor bedroom for me. The shredded clothes were gone, the tatters of the photographs pieced carefully back together with Scotch tape and placed on the nightstand, and the mangled pillows replaced with fresh ones. It was such a nice gesture that I forced myself to blink back a few tears.

  "How on earth did you two get the mattress down the stairs?” I asked, as I bounced lightly on the new one.

  "Mr. Muncaster helped us, miss,” smiled Mary Much. “He's quite handy to have around.” She beamed at me. “And he's very taken with you, if you don't mind me saying so."

  "I think everyone knows he's taken with me,” I admitted, recalling his extremely public proposal of marriage.

  Much squinted at me. “You're not certain of him, are you?” she murmured softly.

  I sighed. “Things are moving way too fast. I'm not in love with him. We're not even dating or anything. This whole thing is completely out of control."

  She laughed. “Muncaster's a good sort. Dependable and stable."

  I sunk back into my new pillows. “Right. I mean, he's handsome, well-educated, a decent guy, and has a steady job. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want him?"

  The cook wriggled onto the bed and perched beside me. “A woman who thought he was dull and boring, aye?"

  "Mrs. Much!” I exclaimed, horrified. “Evan's not ... I mean he's very ... er.” I glanced over at her, and she winked. “Okay, well, he's just a very serious person, that's all,” I said lamely. “That doesn't make him boring, though."