by Cindy Miles
“Okay,” I say, a little breathless.
Niall begins to pull, and within seconds my head clears. I grip the edge of the rotted door and pull myself over. Quickly, I roll from the hole and stand. I take a deep, cleansing breath, shaky and relieved.
“Thank you, Niall,” I say, feeling choked up at the sight of him. I never thought I’d be so grateful toward my stepdad. I withdraw the book, which was beginning to slip down my pants leg.
“What happened tae you, Ivy?” he asks. “You’re in your sleep clothes. Down there all night, were you?”
“Yes,” I answer. “I … fell.”
Niall shakes his head. “Let’s get you inside before you catch your death.”
Niall drapes his jacket over my shoulders and then walks with me. Mist slips over the ground, so thick I can’t even see my feet as we hurry toward the front doors.
I stumble inside — and nearly straight into Elizabeth. I pull up short, breathless. My skin tingles with fear, adrenaline. Our gazes are locked.
A slow smile stretches across her wrinkled face. Then her face shifts, blurs, changes … into another. I blink, and a frightening laugh emerges from her throat.
The ring. I have to get it. And without another thought, I reach down, grab the old woman’s bony hand, and yank that ring off her finger.
Elizabeth wails as though I’m killing her.
“Grandmother? What’s the matter with you?” Niall asks.
I don’t spare another second. I shove past Elizabeth and race to the staircase. At once, the air around me grows icy cold, and my breath billows out before me in white puffs. Doors begin to rattle, open and slam shut, and I run faster. A chilling laughter accompanies me all the way to the second floor.
The moment I hit the second-floor landing, the whispers begin.
“Niall!” I shout, running up the shadowy corridor that seems to breathe. It crowds me, and I run faster. Doors are rattling on their hinges, and the whispers grow louder, condensed. Fear pulls at me, and an overwhelming sense of panic engulfs me. “Niall!” I cry again, my voice trembling. At my mother’s door, just as I grab the handle, it opens. Niall is right behind me, and he follows me into my mother’s room.
“Aye, Ivy?” he says, worry furrowing his brows. “What’s wrong wi’ you, pullin’ on Gran like you did? Now tell me how you ended up —”
I run straight past him and into the chamber. I find my mom, asleep, but she doesn’t awaken. Just lies there, still as death.
“Mom,” I say, and hurry to her. I press my face against her shoulder, tears falling down my cheek. “Mom,” I repeat, unable to say anything else. She’s not answering.
“Ivy! What’s wrong wi’ you?” Niall hollers.
I don’t stick around to answer. The ring and the book have to be destroyed. Now. I take off running to my room.
“Ivy!”
I don’t stop.
I fly into my room, throw on jeans and a hoodie, pull a hat over my head, and shove the ring in my pocket. With the book of spells tucked inside my down coat, I grab my cell, think twice, and grab the shards of yew tree from under my pillow. I run, and I don’t stop until I’m out of the castle. The moment I’m outside, I call Emma. Fortunately, we have the next two days off of school thanks to faculty conferences.
“Em, I need you now!” I say frantically into the phone. “Can you get a ride?”
“Aye, my mum will take me — Ivy, what’s wrong?”
“Meet me at the seawall when you get here. I’ve got the ring. Hurry!”
“Och, I’m hurryin’!”
Then I call Amelia. She answers on the second ring.
“Amelia!” I say. A thick haze of mist rolls in from the sea, and the cold freezes the air in my lungs. “I’ve got the ring, and we found a book of spells. I was pushed into an old vicar’s cellar, and Logan’s gone, and —”
“Honey, hold on!” Amelia says. “Slow down. You’ve got the ring?”
“Yes!”
“Logan’s gone? Are you sure?” she asks. Her voice is laced with urgency.
A sob cracks my throat. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Amelia says.
“I don’t know what to do,” I say, and panic grabs me. “What … do I do?”
“Okay, okay, everything’s going to be all right,” Amelia says soothingly. “Sit tight. I’ll call you right back, you understand?”
“I understand,” I say, and Amelia hangs up the phone.
It seems like I pace the seawall for an hour before Emma shows up. Her mom drops her off and all I see are wild ginger curls flying in the wind as Em races toward me. She skids to a halt. Her face is drawn in worry.
“What’s wrong? You’ve got the ring?” She looks around. “Where’s Logan?”
I shake my head. “He’s … gone, Em.” I show her the book, and pull the ring from my pocket. “The moment we found this book in the cellar, and I read the Veil of the Living spell, he started to disappear.” Tears scorch my eyes again.
“Whoa, what’s with the cellar?” she asks.
As fast as I can, I tell Emma about getting pushed into the vicar’s cellar, finding the book, snatching the ring off Elizabeth, and seeing my mom.
For once, Emma’s speechless, and just reaches out to hug me. I do feel better having her support.
My cell rings, and I answer. “Amelia?”
“Nay, ’tis Ethan,” the voice says. “Do exactly as I say, aye?”
“Okay,” I answer.
“Do you have your yew sliver?” he asks.
“I do, yes,” I answer.
“Good girl. Now take the ring and the book down by the sea,” Ethan orders. “Hurry. And Amelia wants tae know if you’re alone.”
“No, Emma’s with me.”
“Make sure she has her yew as well.”
I hand Emma the second sliver of yew.
We take the path that leads down to the shore. Once there, I could swear the ring is burning a hole in my fist. I want it gone.
Forever.
“Amelia says for me to be on speakerphone,” Ethan says, and I do the same at my end so that Emma can hear him, too. “Right. The ring and book cannot be touching anything live,” he continues. “Find a pile of dried seaweed. Place it on a rock.”
“Aye!” Emma says. She retrieves a bunch of dried seaweed from the shore, and heaps it all on a big flat rock nearby.
“Place the book atop the seaweed,” Ethan instructs. “And the ring atop the book.”
I follow each step. I set the book in the center of the seaweed, and the ruby ring atop the closed book. It’s not touching anything but the weed, on top of a rock. Nothing living.
“Okay, it’s done,” I yell over the wind and surf. “Now what?”
“ ’Tis a verse in Gaelic,” Ethan says. “You’ll have tae try and repeat it exactly as me, word for word. Can you do that, Ivy?”
“Yes,” I say, breathless. I remember how I read the spell in Gaelic last night — how it worked a little too well. “I can.”
Ethan recites the incantation, and word by word, I repeat it. The language sounds strange on my tongue, yet … right. I remember all the words Logan spoke to me last night, and knowing that I’m speaking his language makes me feel strong and safe.
As I speak, the seaweed begins to smolder, then smoke. My voice grows louder, the ancient language sounds natural on my tongue, and a gale wind kicks up. It’s so fierce that I have to grab on to Emma and hold on.
Finally, Ethan finishes the incantation — I recite the last word and wait a heartbeat. There’s a loud boom and then everything on the rock — the seaweed, the book, and the ring — erupts into a sonic explosion that throws me and Em backward. I hit the sand on my side, the air knocked from my lungs. As I push myself up, I see smoke. It rises from the rock.
After a few moments, the smoke clears. The seaweed, the book, the ring — all gone. Emma and I share a long, understanding look.
“Ivy?” Ethan says harshly on the ph
one. “Lass, are you two all right?”
“Yes,” I call out, and breathe a sigh of relief. “The ring and book have disappeared.”
“Och, well done, then,” Ethan says. “Well done.”
“Thank you, Ethan,” I say. “So much.”
“You’ll be fine, lass,” he offers. “I vow it. Now my wife wants a word with you.”
“Hey.” Amelia comes on the line. “You guys okay?”
I look again at Emma, and her wild crazy hair swirling all around her face. I’m so happy she’s all right. We exchange a quick hug. “Yeah,” I answer. “We’re fine.”
“You will be, Ivy,” Amelia echoes her husband’s words. “I promise.”
I doubt it, but it’s all for the best. The ring is destroyed. No one else can be hurt. But …
“My mom,” I say frantically, jumping up. “Amelia, I’ll call you later. I’m going to check on Mom.”
“Okay, hon,” she says. “I’ll be here.”
Emma and I hurry up the path, back to the seawall and across the courtyard. Inside, we both rush upstairs. I glance at Emma in the hall. “Wait here,” I say. “Just in case.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
I go straight into my mom’s room.
Mom is sitting up in bed, looking straight at me. Her eyes are clear and her cheeks have color in them. “There’s my girl!” Mom says.
“Are you feeling better?” I ask, hurrying over to her. “I’ve been worried sick.”
Mom hugs me. “I do feel better now,” she says. “Niall has taken good care of me.”
I glance around. “Where is he? And Elizabeth?” I ask.
Mom sighs. “Elizabeth started feeling ill, so he’s called the physician to take a look at her.”
I study Mom. The dark circles that had been under her eyes have already faded. Her bright blue gaze sparkles.
“They said I had a respiratory infection,” she explains. “Not bad enough to be admitted to the hospital.”
“I’m so glad!”
“Me too. It’s like it’s been … lifted off of me.” She grins. “Except I think I could eat a cow. Well, a burger. With lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, mayo, mustard, and ketchup. Oh, and French fries!” She rubs her belly. “I’m eating for two now, remember?”
Tears fill my eyes. I am so relieved. All I want is for my mom and the baby to be all right.
“I’m so happy for you,” I say, and hug her. “And I’m sorry if I’ve been a snotty brat since moving here,” I blurt out. “Actually, since you and Niall got married.” I shrug. “Maybe I was a little jealous. Like he was taking my mom away.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Mom says, and strokes my cheek. “That could never happen.” She smiles. “You’ll always be my baby.”
I pat her belly. “I’ll have to share now,” I say. “But I’m okay with it. I really am. I’m just happy you’re better.”
“Me too, baby,” she says. “You know nurses make the worst patients anyway.”
I grin, kiss her cheek, and leave my mom to rest.
Emma and I walk to my room. “Thanks for getting over here so fast,” I say, and flop on my bed. I look at her. “Thanks for everything.”
Emma flops down beside me. We both stare at the ceiling.
“ ’Twas destiny, Ivy,” she answers. “You movin’ here. Us meetin’. Knowin’ Serrus. His kin being Logan’s kin.” She turns her head toward me, and I push a wad of red curls out of the way so I can see her face. She grins.
“So are you and Serrus …?” I ask, feeling hopeful for my friend.
She nods, beaming. “He kissed me the other day. When he was dropping me off at home. I guess we’re dating now?”
“I’m excited for you,” I tell Emma, meaning it. I squeeze her hand, but a lump rises in my throat when I think about the boy I loved — and lost.
Emma must see my expression change, because she squeezes my hand back.
“Trust the Munros,” she advises softly. “When they say ’twill be all right …” She smiles, her eyes crinkling. “… it for a certainty will be.”
A little while later, Emma’s mom picks her up. I wave good-bye from the front steps, then close the heavy doors of Glenmorrag Castle. But just as I’m doing so, there’s a knock on the door — the physician has arrived. I let him in. He’s tall and bespectacled, and he’s carrying a black leather doctor’s bag.
“Dr. MacEwan, you’re here,” Niall says, appearing behind me. “Grandmother’s feeling a bit winded today,” he adds. “Follow me.”
Niall glances briefly at me, and leads the doctor to Elizabeth’s first-floor room. I follow, almost afraid of what I’ll find. Will Elizabeth still be evil? Will she remember?
What I find when I peek in is a frail, sobbing old woman, lying in bed.
She sees me walk in. “Oh, Ivy,” she says through her tears. “I’m ever so sorry, lass. Come here.”
I blink. Does she remember? Slowly, I walk toward her.
“For what?” I ask.
“Well, for being a mean old goat, for one,” she says. Her voice is different. Her eyes are softer. Everything about her says sweet little old granny.
I’m in shock. Was the magic truly that dark, black, and fast?
“It’s okay, Lady Elizabeth,” I say gently. “Really.”
“Please,” she begs. “Gran. ’Tis what my boy here calls me.”
Niall smiles at me, and nods.
“Sure thing, Gran,” I say.
Niall pats his grandmother’s arm and we leave her in the physician’s care.
In the hall, Niall turns to me and gives a winsome smile. The lines that fan out at the corners of his eyes seem a little deeper this morning, though. “I’m … sorry, for everything, Ivy,” he begins. “You know, for no’ trying to … understand things a bit better. With you,” he clarifies. “I know it’s been hard on you since your mother and I have wed. I hope things — we — can get to know each other a wee bit better?”
I return the smile, and it comes easy. “I’d like that, Niall,” I say.
In his eyes I see honesty, sincerity, and I’m again so glad that he’s innocent in everything involving the ring. “I never once fancied the thought tae take the place of your da,” he says solemnly. “But if you need a fatherly figure to talk to, ever …” He dips his head in a frank nod. “You come to me. Anytime. And I’m sorry it took sae long tae tell you as much.”
I see Niall in a whole new light, and it fills me with a sense of peace I haven’t had in a long time. “Thanks, Niall. I appreciate that. And I’m sorry if I’ve been a teenaged brat.” I smile. “I’ll work on that.”
A boyish grin makes him look years younger. “You’ve no’ been a brat, Ivy,” he says. “You’re a fine young lass with an extraordinary gift.” He nods. “I’m glad we’re family now.”
And I am, too. I climb the stairs with Niall, and he parts at the second floor to go see about my mom. I head to my room, alone.
A heavy feeling settles over me as I walk up to the third floor. Exhaustion pulls at me, and something else. Something much weightier than sleep deprivation. It’s a pressure, building inside of my chest, and by the time I make it to my room, I kick my shoes off and fall into bed. My body wants to sleep, but my mind races to counteract it. So much has happened, and in a short amount of time.
It’s now all starting to sink in. Really, really sink in.
That pressure in my chest tightens, and my throat begins to burn. Tears break through and stream down my cheek and onto my pillow.
“Logan?” I whisper out loud. I dry my cheek with my sleeve. “Are you there?”
Straining my ears, I stare into the dim haze of the barely there light of my room. Everything is still, the shadows are silent, and the only sound I hear is the wind pushing through the cracks of the old stone walls. I try again.
“Logan?”
I wait. Seconds go by. My chest tightens, and my eyes drift shut.
“I can’t feel you anymore….”
&n
bsp; I cry myself to sleep, the void of Logan’s absence a hollow, aching hole in my gut, a pain that won’t ease up.
I hope that, in my dreams, Logan will be there, smiling, laughing, urging me to play my strings. Eagerly, he sits, listens, watches me. In my dreams, I will hear his Gaelic endearments, that rich, raspy accented voice.
Mairidh mo ghaol gu siorraidh….
I’ll love you forever….
Finally, I slip into slumber, and I drift, until the tears stop flowing and I’m resting, peaceful, still as the air around me.
Ivy …
I bolt up in my bed. “Logan?” I say out loud. The room is shrouded in darkness, and I’ve no idea how long I’ve been asleep. Wasn’t my name just called? Hadn’t that been the sound that woke me up? Or am I losing my mind?
Lying back, I stare at the canopy of gray plaid above me, and my thoughts are full force on Logan. In the darkness, I breathe and recall his image to my mind. It comes easy, as I knew it would.
I would’ve loved to know more about him. Everything about him — before his death, and after. At least we’d had some time together, I tell myself. We spoke of likes and dreams, of dislikes, and we walked Glenmorrag’s lands until I knew every single rock and tree. I Googled things I thought he’d like on my laptop and watched as his eyes widened in amazement at cars, planes, music videos on YouTube. I’ll cherish those times forever. I wish we hadn’t been so preoccupied with the sleuthing and the dark force that was tormenting me.
Play for me….
I get out of bed, press the violin against my chin, and begin to play. For me, and for Logan, and the memory of us.
The next day, the weather has turned downright wintry. You can’t go outside with less than several layers, coat, boots, hat, scarf, gloves. Not too much of a problem as I’ve grown accustomed to the cold now and sort of like it. It’s crisp, clean, and makes my lungs feel good. Mom is doing better but still resting, as is Elizabeth. I can’t believe this dark spirit has lifted from us at last but I feel it — the peace and calm within the walls of the castle. If only Logan were here to enjoy it with me.
