by C. J. Bahr
Chapter Thirty-Three
Laurel paced. It was getting late and Simon was a no show.
“You’re wasting a wonderful massage and a fabulous gourmet dinner not to mention lunch. Will you please relax?”
She shot Beth a look over her shoulder and continued pacing. Damn it, he would be here tonight, he had to.
“Really. Please sit down. You’ve been fidgety all afternoon. If you got something to say, then just tell me.”
“You’re right,” she joined Beth on the couch. “There’s something you should know about… him. Something I haven’t told you.”
“No kidding? You haven’t even told me his name, or even how you met. No matter how many times I asked, or even when I threatened you.”
She chuckled. “I really wanted to tell you, but it’ll be much easier this way. You’ll understand when you see him.”
“Soooooo? What’s up? Can’t you tell me anything?” Beth’s smile disappeared and concern filled her blue gaze. “He’s not married, is he?”
“Oh, God, no, nothing like that.” She shook her head. “He was engaged, but that was a long time ago. Anyway,” she took a deep breath. “Remember the night of the ghost hunt?”
“Well, since it was less than a week ago, of course.”
“That’s when I met him. Well sort of. I inadvertently bumped into him when I had gone out riding the first day, and then I also saw him at the ball, but it wasn’t until later that I really knew who he was.”
“No way,” Beth exclaimed. “You hooked up with one of those geeks?”
“Ah, no,” she felt her face flame. “It was more like the guest of honor.”
It took Beth a moment for it to dawn on her and when it did, her expression was priceless—a cross between disbelief, excitement, and shock. “Shut up! You don’t mean…”
“Yes, really. He was in my room.”
“Technically, it’s my room.”
Laurel didn’t need to turn around to realize Simon had materialized behind her. It was written on Beth’s face. Her friend had turned sheet white, and her chin practically hit the ground. The expression “just seen a ghost” was aptly apparent.
“Holy shit!” Beth voice warred somewhere between terror and giddiness.
Laurel felt the chill of Simon’s approach before his hands came to rest on both of her shoulders. A kiss caressed the top of her head and a whispered, “mo aingeal” lilted to her ears. She leaned back against his chest and felt his hidden laughter rumble through him.
“Knock it off, ghost boy. She has every right to be spooked.”
“No pun intended, I’m sure.” He released her and stepped around to stand in front of them, once again wearing low-slung jeans, this time a pale blue T-shirt with his bare feet. He didn’t look like a ghost from the 19th century. It was good Simon just poofed into existence in front of Beth, or she might have thought they were trying to prank her.
Laurel stared greedily at him, already missing his physical closeness, but her attention was drawn to her best friend as she saw Beth had recovered from her initial shock.
“Beth Murray, let me introduce you to your ghost, Captain Simon MacKay.”
Simon caught up Beth’s hand, gave a small bow over it before pressing a kiss to her fingers. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Get. Out.” She squealed.
Simon abruptly dropped her hand and took a step back.
“No, wait!” Laurel leapt to her feet and grabbed his arm. “It’s an expression. She doesn’t want you to leave. Honest. Beth,” she nudged her friend with her foot.
“Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry about that. I guess you wouldn’t be familiar with modern day slang, would you?” She apologized.
“I’ve picked up some, but not all. And don’t ask me to text, it’s like a foreign language, besides the phone would just die anyway.”
Laurel smiled up at Simon and squeezed his arm in approval, happy the two most important people in her life were meeting at last.
“Ghost sex! You had ghost sex,” Beth shouted then slapped her hand across her mouth.
Laurel closed her eyes and willed herself to disappear. Of all the times. She felt Simon’s muscles tense under her hand.
“Shit! Filter, Beth. You have to filter,” Beth admonished herself.
Laurel’s face heated, and she was praying for Beth to shut up when Simon started laughing.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alex tossed his cards down in disgust. He had no luck tonight. “I’m done. Deal me out.”
Grant said nothing from his seat across the poker table. It was Roger who uttered the words bouncing around inside Alex’s own head.
“Aye, mate. Good call before we wiped you out. Your luck’s all dried up.”
He glared at Roger then picked up his glass and slugged back the rest of his whiskey. Without a word, he walked to the bar and slammed his empty glass down. Taking the half empty bottle of single malt, he poured himself a stiff four-fingered dram. Damn, what was happening to drive him to get pissed faced?
He wandered over to the window, glass in hand, to blindly stare out. The poker game continued in the background, but he ignored it. His thoughts were lost in his quest, hell, his family’s quest. He wasn’t going to fail. The treasure would be his. He’d get the American to tow the line. He knew she’d been doing research, he’d press her for any discovery, maybe even drop a hint or two he wasn’t looking for gold, but a priceless artifact. Anything to get more momentum going. He wanted that relic. He would succeed where his ancestors had failed.
Alex took a thoughtful sip of scotch. And if there really was the ghost of Simon MacKay haring about, he’d deal with that too. MacKay may have out maneuvered old Alastair, but that wasn’t going to happen to him. There were ways to deal with the dead and Alex had vast experience. He had the bodies to prove it. He’d enjoy putting MacKay into the grave. This time permanently.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Simon consciously willed his hand to uncurl from the fist it had formed. Silently he counted to ten, before replying. “It’s not about the gold. It’s never been about the gold.”
Since manifesting himself to both Laurel and Beth, everything had been going along smashingly. For once, he thought there’d be no repercussions in revealing himself to the living. Both lasses were taking it in stride and he was about to tell them of the legacy, when Beth had to bring up the fecking Jacobite gold. It was always about the gold. For the past two hundred years, when people thought of Simon MacKay, they associated the name with a thieving greedy bastard who cared nothing for his family. It was the furthest thing from the truth. Lies spread by the MacKenzie clan.
“Beth,” Laurel interrupted with the patience of a Saint. “Why not let Simon explain?” She looked to him. “Go on, throw it out there.”
He pushed his fingers through his hair, brushing it off his face and sighed. “I’m not sure if you’ll believe me.”
She laughed at him. “You mean it’s more unbelievable than ghosts?”
“Aye, well, possibly.”
Beth decided to chime in. “Is there something more real about it than say, supernatural? Maybe you could start there…”
Bloody hell. There wasn’t a good way to go about this. He’d already jumped into the deep end. He might as well seriously commit himself now and start swimming, because Lord knows he hated the thought of drowning.
“It’s a religious artifact.”
“Wow, that’s so hard to believe,” Laurel didn’t try to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
He glared at her and then smiled. “We’ll see about that, lass.”
Simon started to pace. The women were eager, wanting to help, but could they? Would he be putting them in danger? Too much was unknown. He might as well get it over with. He stopped and faced the lasses.
“The MacKay’s, our family branch in particular, were given a legacy to protect and guard. The secret had been handed down generation after generation, until mine,” he sighed. “It�
��s a long story, so I’ll sum it up. When I was young, my da and I didn’t quite see eye to eye. He died before telling me of our heritage.”
“But what is it?” Beth interrupted.
“Aye, well, it’s known as the Orb of St. Uriel or the Fiery Stone, depending on how religious you’re being. It’s valuable in itself, without the, uh, its other properties,” he paused before blurting it out. “It’s a single, solid, yellow diamond. Big,” he spread his hands apart giving the women an idea of size. “It stands about twenty-five and a half centimeters tall. The stone is shaped in a three-dimensional teardrop. At the base it’s a good fifteen centimeters wide, tapering to the top at five, and weighing a solid two kilos, smooth and rounded, no sharp edges.”
“Holy cow! I’d love to see that rock,” Beth exclaimed.
“Hush,” Laurel admonished. “Yes, that’s impressive, but somehow I don’t think Simon’s been horribly cursed over a huge, rare, diamond.”
“You’d be right,” he sighed. “Legend has it, the Archangel Uriel crafted the stone and imbued it with special abilities. He gave it to a handpicked individual to act as a seer. The stone grants its holder with prophetic knowledge and foresight. And therein lies its true value.”
“Wow,” whispered Beth.
Laurel appeared just as surprised, but neither of the women looked shocked or disbelieving.
“Alex knows about St. Uriel’s Orb?” Laurel asked, getting straight to the point.
“Aye. History is repeating itself. The Orb was stolen from Uriel’s chosen Seer and used for destructive purposes. Uriel decided it was too dangerous to leave it in mortal hands and he couldn’t unmake the stone, so he gave it to the MacKay’s to hide and guard it, never to be used again. The MacKay’s gave their oath.”
“How was your family chosen?” Beth asked.
He shrugged. “The MacKay’s have always been closely linked to the Church, and the guardianship was decided well before I was born. I might have known more, if I hadn’t been such a disappointment to my da. He would have given me all the tools I needed to protect the stone.” He sighed, so was tired of reliving the “if onlys”. His past could not be changed, but his future must.
“But if it’s lost,” Laurel asked, “then isn’t it safe? I mean if no one can find it…”
“That’s just it. It would be safe if only I was the last to know of stone, but the MacKenzie Clan found out somehow. Their family has been searching for it since before my death.”
“But since they’ve never found it, it’s probably safe,” Beth replied. “If they haven’t found it in over two hundred years, I’m thinking they won’t.”
“You’re wrong,” Laurel interrupted, chewing her lower lip in worry. “Alex is searching for it. You’re right, Simon, it was never about the gold. Alex is hunting the stone.”
Simon nodded. He could tell something more was bothering her. “Lass, what is it? You’ve been working with MacKenzie, how close is he?”
“I’m not sure, especially since I’ve been looking for Jacobite gold this entire time,” her reply didn’t hide her frustration. “But there’s something else you should know, something about Alex…”
He stared, waiting, as Laurel wouldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t look up until Beth nudged her arm.
“What don’t we know about Alex?” Beth asked.
She turned to face Beth, obviously avoiding him. “I was doing research, you know, those letters we found? They painted Simon in such bad light. They didn’t make sense. And well, Simon warned me off of Alex, which didn’t seem right either. So I decided to research Alex. It wasn’t easy, but when I found the first article, it was like an egg cracked open.”
“What do you mean? What did you find?” Beth frowned.
“He might be responsible for three deaths.”
“What?” Shock was written across Beth’s face. “Alex is a killer! You must be wrong. I know him. He’s a great guy. He’s not a murderer.”
“I don’t know, possibly, maybe?” Laurel shook her head. “It doesn’t seem right either, but it’s too weird for the deaths to be coincidences. Two different assistants and one friend died. They could just be accidents, but that’s hard to believe. I mean, how many people have that many close acquaintances die? I don’t think they were accidents.”
“Aye, lass. I told you he was trouble,” Simon replied. He had no trouble believing a MacKenzie was capable of killing. One was responsible for his own death, and his father’s. Maybe now, Laurel would stay away from him.
“Oh my God, it’s like finding out Ted Bundy is my next door neighbor,” Beth exclaimed. “I set you up with a murderer. You could have been killed!”
Beth grabbed Laurel in a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry!”
Laurel untangled herself and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You didn’t know. And we still don’t know. He’s never been a suspect in any of the deaths except one, and he was cleared. It really could be just a coincidence.”
“It’s not, lass, and you know it,” Simon injected. “You need to stay away from him.”
“But what are we going to do?” Beth asked. “What are the chances of Alex finding the Orb? Especially when his family has been searching longer than you’ve been dead? Besides, you can’t even find it.”
“Oh, but I have,” he replied, obviously surprising them. “I know exactly where it is. I’ve seen it and held it with my own hands.”
“Then I’m missing the obvious. Why are you still here? Are you a ghostly guard or something?” Beth asked.
“Not quite. It’s taken me over a hundred agonizing trips to find it, but that’s not the sole problem. It’s in a locked room below the manor in the catacombs.”
“We’ve got catacombs—”
“Catacombs? Oh no—”
Both woman spoke at the same time making him frown. He turned to Beth first. “Yes, there’s a whole labyrinth below Cleitmuir.” Then he turned to Laurel. “What is it? What’s the problem?”
Laurel sank down onto the couch shaking her head. “I think we’re in trouble. Alex has a map. A geographical map of the countryside. I only got a brief glance, but my eye was drawn to a circle traced on the map. It surrounded some underground caves near Cleitmuir. I think Alex knows about the catacombs.”
“Then we have to move the Orb right away!” Beth exclaimed.
“We canna,” he replied. “A key is needed to open the door.”
“Just pick the lock,” Laurel suggested. “Or shoot it, or maybe use carefully placed explosives. There’s got to be a way.”
“We can’t just pick the lock, it’s not that kind of lock, or that kind of door. Do you think after all this time, I wouldn’t have tried that or even broken down the door?”
They sat in silence. Stunned, as the pressure of what they were up against was felt. Then he saw Laurel straighten, sitting taller on the couch, a hint of an idea gleamed in her hazel eyes.
“How’d you get in though? You said you’ve seen it and held it?”
“Aye, I’m a ghost,” he shook his head. He knew where she was headed, and sadly the easy solution didn’t work. “I passed through the rock into the chamber.”
“Wow, that’s totally cool. But why didn’t you bring it back out with you?” Beth asked the question that triggered the hope he read in Laurel’s face.
The gleam in her eyes disappeared as she figured it out. “It’s just a guess, Beth, but I’m betting he couldn’t”
“You’d win. I can’t bring anything with me when I’m incorporeal. Well, somehow my clothes come and go with me, but that gift still remains a mystery to me.”
“But again, if you can’t find the key, then neither can Alex. So the Orb is safe,” Beth declared.
“I believe MacKenzie has the key, but didn’t know where the chamber was. But that’s all shot to hell. He’s closer to the stone than any member of his clan so far. Damn, bloody, treasure hunting, bastard.”
“We need to find the key, steal it away from Alex. Witho
ut the key, the treasure is safe,” Laurel announced. “I’m assuming the lock isn’t your ordinary keyhole, right?”
“Aye, it’s a small depression that’s surrounded by notches. I haven’t a clue what could fit into it.”
“Huh?” Beth looked thoughtful but drew a blank. Laurel on the other hand had a guess if the sparkle in her eyes were a clue.
“What we need,” she said while smiling, “is more information. I’ll go into town tomorrow and do some research, ’cause that’s my specialty.”
“It’s a plan at least,” Beth replied. “What about Alex?”
“Both of you stay away from him. He’s dangerous,” he warned.
“I still have such a hard time believing that,” Beth shook her head.
“He is. I know clan MacKenzie like no one else can. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
A chill settled deep into Simon’s bones as he stared at Laurel. She sat on the couch looking thoughtful, her mind already deep on the problem. MacKenzie was using her to find the relic. He wouldn’t stop, even if she managed to stay clear of him. If Simon could, he’d ship her back to America, keeping her safe and out of MacKenzie’s reach. But sadly, he needed her as well. Not just for finding the lost key, but also for the life she had returned to his soul. That was more important than any lost family legacy or religious obligation. God, his angels, and the rest of the heavenly host could screw themselves. He loved Laurel and would suffer a thousand more drowning deaths to protect her. If MacKenzie so much as touched her, he was a dead man.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cleitmuir Manor
August 1800
Simon crept down the dark hallway. He hitched his pack higher up on his shoulder and paused when he reached the top of the grand stairs. It would have been smarter to use the more private servant stairs, but at this late hour everyone would be abed, so it wouldn’t matter. Besides, it was closer to his destination—his father’s study.
Silent as a cat, he reached the foot of the stairs and then paused again before crossing to his da’s sanctuary. It was pitch black inside the room, but he couldn’t risk a light. He’d have to find what he needed by memory and feel. He wasn’t about to be caught and stopped now, not when his plans were set.
