by Cindy Miles
I take a long walk by the cliffs and even down the beach. The wind nearly tears my skin off, it’s so frigid, but I love the view. For as brutal as it can be, it’s majestic at the same time. As I’m headed back, I run into Ian, and we walk the rest of the way together. I tell him about Logan — how I accidentally read his spell out loud, and he disappeared. Ian understands. He listens.
As Ian and I cross the bailey to the courtyard, the ever-present gray gloom still lingers over Glenmorrag. The trees are stark and desolate, with spindly limbs that reach out like bony dead fingers. The only color noticeable is the blue of the peacocks. I watch them now, hovering together by the stone wall separating the bailey from the inner courtyard. The indigo stands in severe contrast to the black-and-white surroundings. It’s almost … comforting.
“Here you go, then,” Ian says, and waves me on to the front door. “I’ll see you later, lass.” His eyes meet mine and soften. “If you want someone tae talk to, I’ll be ’round.”
I smile. “Thanks, Ian.”
With a single nod, he disappears around the side of the courtyard.
Voices reach my ears, and I pause on the steps. When I turn, I find Emma, Cam and Derek, and Serrus trotting across the grounds toward me. I wave to them, feeling my spirits lift.
“Hey, guys!” I call. “What’s up?” My eyes drift to Serrus, whose Munro looks are almost painful to see. He drapes an arm around me.
“We thought you might like some company,” he says in his Highland brogue. “We’re a fun lot.” He throws his head toward the others. “Well, mostly me.”
We all laugh, and I invite them in for some of Jonas’s tea and shortbread. It is so comforting to have friends. Especially Emma. We’ve bonded in ways my girlfriends back home and I just didn’t. She’s special. She believed in Logan. She and Serrus feel like my last connection to him. Ethan, Amelia, and the rest of the Munros do, too, but I haven’t been in touch with them since Emma and I destroyed the ring and the spell book.
The weekend passes quickly once my friends are around, and soon it’s Wednesday. School drags, and my thoughts are elsewhere. But it’s a joy to see Mom in the car with Niall, come to pick me up at the end of the day. She’s finally up and about.
“Hey,” Mom says, perky as ever. “How was school?”
I buckle my seat belt and peer at her as Niall starts off down the school’s drive. She seems … extra perky. Extra glowy.
“Fine,” I answer, studying her closely. Something’s up. Mom’s looking guilty. Proudly so.
Then I remember. Today she and Niall went to the doctor to have an ultrasound.
Mom’s face is full of excitement. She looks as though she’s about to burst.
“Okay, Mom,” I say. “I can’t wait another second. Do I have a sister or a brother?”
Mom glances at Niall, who grins ear to ear. Then she looks at me and gives a firm nod. “Yes.”
“Well, which is it?” I ask, looking between her and Niall, thinking they’ve lost it. They both burst out laughing.
“Maybe one of each,” Mom announces.
It takes me a second for her comment to register. My eyes stretch wide. “Twins?”
Mom laughs again. “Can you believe it? Two wee MacAllisters!”
Niall’s face is glowing just as brightly as Mom’s. I can’t help but laugh, too. “Man, you guys are going to be super busy,” I say. “Congratulations.”
“Niall has a surprise for you, too,” Mom says, and slides her husband a sly look. “Sweetheart?”
Niall glances at me through the rearview mirror. “I thought you might like a more comfortable place to play your music,” he says, smiling. “So I’m having the rectory remodeled for you.” He pauses. “If you’d like.”
Surprise shakes me. “Of course I’d like!” I say excitedly. “Wow, I don’t know what to say.” I glance at Mom, who is still grinning ear to ear. “Thanks, Niall. That means a lot to me.”
He nods. “I know it does, Ivy. And I’m happy tae do it.”
I sit back and watch the scenery flash by. Still bleak, still cold as anything, but different now. Maybe because I’m a little different now? Scotland has definitely grown on me, as has my stepfather. And not just because he’s remodeling the rectory for me. Ever since that horrible day, when I escaped the cellar, Niall and I have seemed closer. I suppose it will continue to get even better as time passes.
As for Elizabeth — Gran — she’s also up and about when we get home, wearing a robe, her fingers bare without that awful ring. She greets me warmly and seems thrilled when Mom and Niall share with her their news about the twins. I know Mom has noticed the change in Elizabeth, too, and has chalked it up to the MacAllister matriarch finally coming around to her new American family. I haven’t told Mom or Niall anything about the ring, and the curse, and the Gaelic incantation that broke the spell. Gran herself seems to have very little memory of the time she was possessed — she just recalls not being very nice to me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s all she needs to know.
Nightfall is hard for me. It’s when the memories of Logan come thick and fast. I’m so used to Logan being right outside my door, my own personal watchman. At times, I hear his voice so clearly in my head, I think I’ve heard it for real. I call his name. He never answers.
I wonder if, in time, he’ll be easier to think of without my chest hurting so much. For now, I’ll have to learn to live with the pain.
Early Sunday morning, a horn blasting outside my window wakes me. I get out of bed and draw back the drapes.
Just beyond the courtyard, I see a big work truck — rather, a lorry, as they call them here in Scotland. I feel a shiver of excitement. Today the restorations on the rectory begin, and they’re starting by digging up the old floor — or what’s left of it. I want to watch, so I hurry and pull on my favorite holey jeans, a striped long-sleeved T-shirt, and a snap-up cotton shirt over that. Layers, I’ve learned, keep me warmer in the frigid winter Highlands. After yanking on socks and boots, I brush my teeth and fly down the stairs. Niall is already at the hall closet, my wool coat and hat in hand.
He grins. “Come on, then.”
“I’m coming, too,” my mom says, making her way from the kitchen. She has on her bright pink hat and matching scarf. She’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt that says Babies, with an arrow pointing down at her belly. It’s ridiculous and cheesy, but I can’t begrudge Mom anything now. She grins at me, and I shake my head, take my hat and coat from Niall, and start out the door.
I lead the way down the gravel path to the rectory, the wind fierce at my back. Niall and Mom are behind me a ways, and I can hear their feet crunching as they walk. Ahead, the workers have already started loading their equipment inside the ruins. I find a place that has a decent view into the main chamber of the rectory, lean against a tree, and watch. Niall and Mom join me.
We watch for about half an hour as the workers bring equipment inside, rattle around in there. I’m dying of curiosity but Niall has said it might not be safe to go in. He whispers to me, so Mom won’t hear, that he doesn’t want me falling into any other holes. I can understand.
It’s freezing out and Mom can’t stand the cold anymore. “Okay, guys,” she says, rubbing her arms through her insulated down jacket. “Hungry. Thirsty. Cold. I’m done.” Her nose is cherry red as she glances from me to Niall. “So I’m going inside. Grilled cheese. Hot chocolate. Fireplace. Join me?”
Niall kisses Mom’s cheek. “I’ll be along in a few, love. I wouldn’t mind watching with Ivy for a little longer.”
Mom smiles at me, and I know it’s because she is beyond happy that Niall and I have finally connected. “Okay,” she says, and starts up the path toward the castle. “I’ll save you guys seats by the fire.”
I watch my mom hurry up the path, then I turn my attention back to the rectory. Niall plans on having wood floors installed, but that will come after the restorations are mostly complete. A part of me thinks I’ll miss the old cavernous rui
ns. Every time I’m in there, I think of Logan. I see him everywhere. I hear him, his voice in my ear. And even though our kiss wasn’t an actual kiss, I still feel the static electricity of his lips brushing mine. Absently, with my fingertips, I touch my lips.
“Laird!” a young excavator suddenly says, hurrying at an excited jog out of the rectory and across the small area of grass toward Niall. “Sir!”
I notice the excavator holds something in his hands. He’s cradling it away from his body, but careful just the same. The excavator is tall and lanky, with a shock of auburn hair and wide blue eyes, with skin as pale as notebook paper. He wears a badge that says Rob on it.
“Aye?” Niall asks as the boy stops before us.
“We found this, Laird,” Rob says. He holds his treasure, wrapped in a heavy cloth of some sort, out to Niall.
Niall looks at it. “What is it?”
“Och, if you dunna mind, sir,” Rob says, pushing the object closer. “Go ahead and take it?” Niall does, and Rob visibly sighs in relief. Rob shoves his gloved hands in his coat pockets. Niall pulls the cloth off, revealing something small, aged. “ ’Tis a flute,” Rob says, “entwined with —”
“Rowan,” I say, almost a whisper. I can’t take my eyes off of it. Could it be Logan’s?
“Aye,” Rob says. “Twisted rowan.” He shudders. “ ’Tis cursed.”
“Och, boy,” Niall says. He quickly unwinds the rowan from the flute and tosses the bark to the ground, stomping it with his heel. “There’s no such thing —”
A wave of … something passes over the courtyard. Almost like another sonic boom. It reminds me of the sound the ring and spell book made when they burst out of sight. The trees visibly shake, and I teeter where I stand. I feel the sensation pass through me. Everyone stops what they’re doing. They’re all looking around, their expressions masks of disbelief.
I glance at Niall. “What was that?” I ask.
“I dunno,” Niall answers. We both look at Rob. He is, if possible, even whiter than before.
He takes off running to the rectory.
Niall seems unbothered by the event. He barely even acknowledges it happened.
It did, though. What exactly it was, I haven’t a clue. But I can’t shake the feeling that it was something important. Resonant.
Niall stares down at the flute. With his thumb, he wipes an area clean. He looks at me. “Initials, Ivy,” he says, and he holds it down low enough for me to see.
I gasp. LM is etched into the instrument.
“ ’Tis quite old,” Niall says, turning the flute over in his hands and inspecting it. “I canna imagine what it was buried beneath the rectory for. Would you like to have it?” he asks.
Excitement floods me. I nod. “Yes.” Niall hands it to me. I’m sure he has no idea that the initials mean Logan Munro, but I know. My heart is racing.
With the wind biting into my face, I stare down at the instrument through tear-filled eyes. I have no doubt the relic belonged to Logan. And now it all makes sense: His cousin, Patrick — driven mad by that ruby ring — must have murdered Logan by wrapping a personal possession of Logan’s in rowan. Cursing it.
I try to hold back my tears, telling Niall that I have a sudden headache. He looks a bit concerned but waves me off and goes to speak to the excavators about something.
I make it back to my room, short of breath and clutching Logan’s prized flute. I set it down on the trunk at the foot of my bed, unsure what exactly to do with it. I pace the length of my room, my thoughts swirling. The flute, the rowan, that strange sound. Logan … I can’t help but feel that something has shifted. But what?
I know there’s only one way I can truly feel settled. I wait until the late afternoon, when the excavators are finished for the day. Then I grab my violin and bow, tuck the flute in my pocket, and steal out of the castle. I make my way back to the rectory. The sun is setting, striping the gray clouds purple. The skies are so dramatic here, and so vast. It almost doesn’t seem real, like I’m in some kind of enchanted fairyland where nothing is as it appears.
The rectory is deserted now — the excavators having left for the night and Niall back in the castle with Mom, both of them convinced I’m up in my room with a headache.
I know Niall is right — that the construction site isn’t quite safe. But as I pick my way carefully into the rectory, it doesn’t even feel that different. The ground is patchy and shaky but I know now that no invisible hands will be shoving me. Slowly, I make my way over to the stone seat by the window.
Setting Logan’s flute on the stone beside me, I pick up my violin, and drag my bow over the strings. The melody I play is the one I composed when I first arrived here. Haunting. Serene. It reminds me of Logan. It’s the piece I’ll be playing at the Strings festival. I play for several moments, my eyes closed.
Suddenly, a sensation rushes through me, and I stop. For no good reason, my heartbeat quickens. It slams into my chest and against my ribs with such force, so out of control, that I think something’s wrong. I set the violin and bow down, and press my hand against my heart. It’s beating fast and hard.
“Ivy.”
My brain can’t get the messages to my body quick enough. I dare not believe what I hear, even as my back stiffens and I slowly turn to the sound of my name.
My eyes fall on the figure standing in the still-crumbled opening that was once the rectory’s doorway. I stare, trembling, disbelieving.
I mouth his name. No words escape. They’re trapped.
The figure moves toward me.
“There’s no way I’ll believe you canna speak, lass,” the figure says teasingly, moving closer to me. His boots scrape against the packed dirt as his swaggering stride closes the distance between us. A grin spreads across his painfully handsome face. “No way.”
“Logan?” I whisper, drinking him in. Suddenly, I’m standing, but my legs are locked into place. Inside, I’m shaking. “Is it you?”
I can’t stop looking at him. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? I blink several times and even shake my head. When I focus, the Logan-like figure is standing less than a foot away.
His thumb grazes my cheek….
My eyes widen; I can feel his touch, his skin against mine. The warmth of his thumb against my skin.
We can touch.
Logan lowers his head toward me, smiling.
“I have dreamed of this,” he whispers, then settles his lips against my mouth.
And he kisses me.
His full lips move over mine, and my heart soars with joy, disbelief. My knees grow weak, and Logan must sense it because he holds me tightly against him. My arms fly around his neck in a fierce embrace.
I’m afraid to let go.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper against his neck. I’m trembling. I can smell him. Smell his clean skin. Feel the warmth of his live body seep through his clothes — which are the same clothes he’s worn since I first met him. Dark, hand-sewn pants, boots, and the white shirt. His dark hair is loose and wavy against his collar, and I swear, he’s the most handsome thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re here, alive.” I pull back and look up into his familiar silver eyes. “How?” I ask. “How is it even possible?”
Logan’s gaze never leaves mine, but his hands move to cup my face.
“I’m not sure,” he answers, still studying my features as if he’s never seen them before. It’s as if he’s discovered something brand-new. He laughs softly. “All I know is, I suddenly popped up in the village, and I was real. Alive again. And I knew I had to find you.” He kisses me. “I dunna want tae let you go, Ivy Calhoun.”
It must have had something to do with unearthing Logan’s flute. The sonic boom that followed, the unease that had settled? I reach for the flute and hand it to Logan.
He grasps it with one hand, studies it. Runs his thumb over his initials. Then he looks at me and smiles.
And never have I felt so happy.
We stand in the r
uined rectory, enveloped in each other’s arms. Outside, the wintry wind howls, but I barely notice it as Logan Munro’s heart beats strong against my ear and I melt against his warm embrace.
I can’t explain it. Right now, I don’t even care. Logan’s back.
And he’s mine.
“You look nervous.”
Logan glances down at me, then gives me a mock frown. “I’m no’ nervous, gell. I’ve met them all before.” He cockily jerks his jaw upward and stands rigid, then grabs the enormous iron knocker and bangs it.
I can do little more than smile, link my arm through his, and wait for the Munros’ door to open.
After we’d left the rectory that night, we had shocked old Ian and Jonas with Logan’s return. Mom and Niall had taken Elizabeth to the village for fish-and-chips, so we had the place to ourselves for a bit. We had talked for hours and finally made sense of everything that had happened.
We realized that the moment Logan’s flute was unearthed, there was a chance of reversing the curse. When Niall had pulled the twisted rowan off was when Logan had found himself back at Glenmorrag village, alive.
All of Logan’s memories have returned as well. My theory wasn’t totally correct, because Logan’s uncle Patrick had not in fact killed him. When Logan discovered Patrick’s spell book and the truth about his ring, Patrick had instead cursed Logan with the Veil of Death — which meant that he would remain suspended between life and death forever. Patrick had taken a personal article of Logan’s — the flute — and wrapped it in cursed rowan, and hidden it beneath the old rectory. Just to ensure that the spell on Logan would never break.
When Logan’s mother discovered what Patrick had done, she’d put two and two together and ripped the ruby ring off his finger, removing him from the sway of the dark spirit. But instead of healing, as Elizabeth had, Patrick went mad and threw himself off the seawall. Logan, in spirit form, saw his mother steal into the castle and hide the ruby ring and spell book. Both remained hidden until Elizabeth discovered them the night of the storm.
