Lost Highlander

by Cassidy Cayman

  If he stays he’ll die, a harsh little voice told her, and she dropped the pendant with a gasp. Lachlan reached to pick it up, then went and held it up to the lamp, turning it over to inspect the engraved symbol. His face changed in the weak gas light.

  “Lachlan, are you all right?” Piper jumped up and hurried over to him, taking him by the arm. He shook his head and closed his hand around the pendant.

  “I feel fine,” he said wonderingly. He held out the pendant and she took it from him. He took a few steps away and then turned back, holding out his hand and motioning for the pendant. She handed it to him and he clasped it in his hand. “The pendant,” he said, looking at her quizzically.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I feel stronger. Just these few seconds holding it and I feel almost well.”

  Piper clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. She grabbed the pendant from his hand and scrambled to fit it over his head, pressing it against his chest. He nodded, the color returning to his pale skin, his eyes no longer looking clouded with pain and weakness. She sobbed happily.

  “I knew it was something important,” she said, wiping away joyful tears. She ran back to the desk and grabbed the book, gripping it in both hands. “Something to do with how you got here.” She hugged the book to her chest, but nothing came to her and she tossed it back onto the desk in exasperation. “That one is the one from your time,” she said slowly, staring at the gleaming gold around Lachlan’s neck. “Brian had it for a reason, it wasn’t just a trinket.” She looked at Lachlan who nodded encouragingly. “Was it Brian you think, who did the curse?”

  At this Lachlan frowned and shook his head. “I do not think so, no. He’s a crude man, none so brainy.”

  “You’re really feeling better?” she asked, dismissing the curse for now. Lachlan reached up and patted the pendant.

  “I will admit that wearing this thing worries me, but I do feel well again.” He flexed his fists and looked stonily past Piper. “I must find Brian and bring him to justice.”

  “No,” Piper gasped and ran to him, putting her hands on his chest. “Just let me keep reading the book and find a way to fix all this.”

  “You cannot undo that an innocent woman has died by his hands. I will not fail to stop him in this time like I did in my own.” Lachlan grabbed her hands and held them fiercely, staring down into her eyes. She saw how heartbroken and responsible he felt for poor Mrs. Abernathy.

  “Lachlan,” she leaned her head against his chest, wishing she could take away his anguish and keep him safe. “It isn’t your fault. None of it.”

  He rubbed her back, then gently pushed her away. “That does not mean I can do nothing. I will gather my weapons and go find him, Piper, before he does more harm.”

  He dropped a kiss onto her forehead and she wanted to plead with him to wait, give her more time, but the set look in his eyes told her she could never convince him to not do what he thought was right. She realized at that moment that she loved him. Loved him completely.

  “How will you find him?” she asked.

  “There is a small shelter in the woods, for hunting. I think he may go there in the hopes that it still stands. Since you have no horses I shall have to go on foot. There is no time to waste.”

  Piper thought about offering him the golf cart, and if she hadn’t been so miserable at the thought of him being hurt she might have smiled a little at the image. Picturing him out in the woods alone at night, with a crazed killer on the loose quickly sobered her.

  “Can’t you wait until morning?” she asked, pressing her cheek into his chest.

  He stroked her hair. “I cannot.”

  “Please be careful,” she whispered.

  He smiled sadly at her and then left the room.

  Piper wanted to sit down on the floor and cry miserably, but instead she went back to the desk and picked up the book once more. She couldn’t lose Lachlan, and Evie and Sam. It was all up to her. She slapped open the book to a random page and was sent immediately into a trance.

  Chapter 18

  They made their way furtively across the pasture to the barn. Daria shoved Evelyn roughly into the room where the ritual had taken place the day before and told her to stay behind the door, then left. As soon as Daria was gone, Evelyn briefly thought about running as fast and as hard as she could, but quickly dismissed the idea. She wouldn’t know where to go, she needed to find Sam, and as much as she hated it, she needed Daria to do another spell if she and Sam had any hope at all of ever seeing their time again.

  She pressed her ear against the solid wood door, trying to hear anything that might be useful, but the door was too thick. She figured if the Glens were keeping Sam here in the barn like Daria believed, he would be out in one of the stalls where it would be easy to keep an eye on him.

  “It’s truly awful.” Evelyn heard Daria’s voice in the hall outside, strangely sweet and demure sounding. “Our land does no’ feel safe.”

  “You needn’t trouble yerself, milady,” a man’s voice said.

  Evelyn heard them walk past the room she was in and the door to the yard open and then shut. She ran to the window to see if she could see anything outside, but it was too high. As she looked for something to stand on, the door swung open and Daria charged in. She was seething with anger. Evelyn pressed herself against the wall, trying to look as if she’d been there all along, not eavesdropping at all.

  “They moved him,” she said. “Since Brian bloody “escaped” they wanted to put him somewhere safer.”

  Daria clenched her fists and paced across the room to where Evelyn leaned against the wall. Evelyn closed her eyes, fearing a slap at the very least. Daria merely turned on her heel and paced back to the door. “We will no’ be able to get him now.”

  “Where is he?” Evelyn asked, hoping she didn’t sound suspicious. She had never in her life wanted anything more than she wanted to be away from this woman, but she couldn’t do anything without finding Sam.

  Daria glared at her. “He’s out of our reach,” she said with a cruel twist of her lips, then started pacing again, muttering to herself. “I could perhaps contrive a way to get some poison on his food. That could maybe do fine.”

  Evelyn gasped and took a step toward her, her terror for Sam overriding any fear she had for her own immediate safety.

  “Please, Lady Daria. You said you’d send us back.”

  “Aye, well, that was when I was out in the lovely morning sunshine and before they put yer lad in the tower. We’ll no’ be getting him out of there, and I cannot be havin’ loose ends.”

  Evelyn’s mind raced. The tower would seem impenetrable to Daria. The ground entrance would be well guarded, no one would be allowed past.

  “I can get us into the tower,” she said. This comment earned Evelyn the slap she’d been trying to avoid all morning. She rubbed her cheek, but stood her ground. “I can,” she repeated.

  Daria actually started to make a fist and haul back her arm to use it, but Evelyn jumped back, holding out her hands to protect her face. She breathlessly tried to explain about the secret passage from the wine cellar and how she had found it.

  “In my time, I was staying at the castle,” Evelyn said. “I got - I was exploring. There’s a secret stairway that goes from the wine cellar all the way to the tower.” Evelyn prayed she was right, trying to remember if the stairs let her out into the old wing of the castle that was directly attached to the tower, or if she’d come out into the newer addition and backtracked.

  “I’ve been visiting this place since I was a wee child,” Daria said with narrowed eyes. “I know of no secret passage.”

  “Well, have you ever gone into the wine cellar?” Evelyn figured since Daria was part of the noble family, she may have never even seen the kitchen, let alone the wine cellar. Daria raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Evelyn sagged with relief. “I know we can get to him, if we can just get down into the wine cellar.”

  “Aye, it may work
, if you speak true. There would most likely only be one guard at the top, maybe none. If we don’t have to bother with the front entrance … “

  “We don’t,” Evelyn rushed to assure her. “Just get me into the kitchen and I’ll show you.”

  Daria eyed her for an uncomfortable amount of time. Evelyn started to feel like there was no chance, that Daria would just poison Sam and cut her throat. She started to look around for anything she might be able to use to bash in Daria’s head, when the terrible witch laughed.

  “You are really no good at plotting schemes,” she said. “We’ll try yer plan tonight. If it does no’ work I’ll just act like yer abducting me and you can spend the the rest of yer time here in the tower along with yer man. But I’ll need to get you some proper clothing in case any scullery maids catch a glimpse of ye.”

  Daria looked at the small room they were in and seemed to decide it was safe enough to leave Evelyn there. “Do all the women dress like farm hands in yer time?” she asked scornfully, and left without waiting for an answer.

  Evelyn heard her locking the padlock on the door, but hurried to try to open it anyway, as soon as she was sure Daria was good and gone. It didn’t budge.

  She paced the room, wondering what her chances would be with the Glens if she started hollering and got taken into custody by them. Would she end up with Sam, or would they take her somewhere else?

  She knew how superstitious people from this time could be. Burning at the stake would probably be instantaneous for her if she tried to tell them what really happened. Her clothes alone would probably get her torched. Daria was their cousin, and she clearly acted differently around them. They would never believe she was a blood-sacrificing, crazy, murderer-abetting witch. Evelyn would just have to wait and take her chances. As soon as she was reunited with Sam, they could find a way to get back.

  She slid down behind the door and rested her head against the wall. Daria might be a while, she’d have to find some clothing, put in an appearance with her relatives. They wouldn’t be going to the kitchen until nightfall. Worn out from the constant worry and panic, she fell asleep.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  A slippered foot kicking her in the ribs woke her. Her back hurt from leaning against the stone wall, and she was ravenous. Groaning, Evelyn forced her eyes open and saw Daria grinning down at her, an oil lamp swinging from one hand, a large covered basket in the other.

  “It took me forever to slip away,” she said, squatting down next to Evelyn. “My idiot cousins do love their feasts. They have them both to celebrate and to drown their sorrows.” She patted her stomach. “I must ha’ eaten half a suckling pig by myself.”

  Evelyn’s stomach growled and she wanted to pinch herself for the indignity of it. Chuckling, Daria opened the basket and pulled out a wad of clothing, tossing it aside. Then she took out a wrapped bundle and handed it to Evelyn, who took it with begrudging thanks. She opened the cloth to find a large piece of fresh, crusty bread and a hunk of tangy cheese. She tried not to devour it with too much gusto, but it was the first thing she’d eaten since the day before, when she was back at the old manor - or the new manor? Piper’s manor.

  Daria watched Evelyn eat with something akin to motherly affection. She pulled a half full bottle of whiskey and two little glasses out of the basket with a flourish.

  “Aye?” she asked, waving the bottle in the air. Evelyn shrugged. Why the heck not? She’d probably be violently killed somehow in the next few hours anyway.

  “Sure, aye,” Evelyn said, accepting a glass and downing it in one go.

  She grimaced and tried not to cough. It was stronger than anything she’d ever drank before. Daria nodded approvingly and refilled her glass. Evelyn sipped this one and nibbled at her bread and cheese, her senses being kindly dulled by the whiskey but with an underlying sense of distrust and confusion. Why was Daria being so friendly all of a sudden?

  “Put on yer clothes, then,” Daria said, pushing the pile of clothing at her.

  Evelyn shook it out, there were a lot of pieces and she tried to put them in order, glancing nervously at Daria as she started to undress.

  “Tell me about the future, eh?” she asked, as Evelyn tugged on a thin shift. It was soft and Evelyn realized it must have been hand stitched. All of it.

  “Noisy, crowded. There’s loads more people and they fight over everything. Food, water, land. They do that now, I suppose, but we have better weapons. You can kill thousands of people in one go, and don’t have to be anywhere nearby to do it. And there’s air pollution. You don’t have that yet, but it’s bad,” Evelyn said, feeling a little guilty for focusing on the negative, but not wanting Daria to think it was a place she’d ever want to visit.

  “What’s air pollution?” Daria asked, waving her hand through the air. “A kind of creature?”

  “No, it’s like smoke and smog. It makes you sick, and it’s ugly, makes the sky yellow or grey.”

  Daria shivered and poured herself another slug of whiskey. Evelyn quickly drained her glass and held it out for a refill. She’s thinking about Brian, Evelyn realized. Hoping he’s safe. Evelyn hoped the police had caught him and he was rotting in a cell right now, or better yet, had resisted arrest and was gunned down in the street. Did they do that in Scotland? She tried to shake off her whiskey haze.

  “You would not want to stay in this time, if yer own is so bad?” Daria asked, standing up to help Evelyn lace up the back of her dress. Evelyn had on about fifteen pounds of clothing. That alone would make her say a resounding no. She tried to be diplomatic.

  “Well, it’s my home. It’s all I know. I don’t think I could survive here. I don’t know how to sew or cook or ride a horse or fix things.”

  She turned around to face Daria when she was done being laced up to find Daria staring at her with her jaw practically on the floor, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “It canno’ be so different,” she said.

  Evelyn nodded firmly. “Oh, yes it can.” She wished she could think of something truly horrible to tell Daria, succinctly explain mass warfare or freeway pile ups, really scare the bejesus out of her, but just the fact that Evelyn was completely useless due to modern times seemed to scare her enough. “Brian will be glad to get home, that’s for sure,” Evelyn said.

  Daria’s eyes widened but she quickly recovered. “He has a talisman for protection,” she said.

  “Nope,” Evelyn shook her head vigorously, feeling a little dizzy from too much whiskey. “He lost it. That’s why we’re here, because I found it and picked it up.”

  Daria’s face changed so radically that Evelyn clamped her mouth shut and took a step back, nearly tripping on her long skirts. Daria’s expression went from absolute despair to a studied calm. Only a slight twitch of her cheek gave Evelyn a hint that this news had unnerved her.

  “I sent him back at first,” she said quietly. “To the past. ‘Tis far simpler to do, as it’s easy to find things from the proper time, aye? Easier to navigate.” She looked at Evelyn, who nodded as if she understood, still keeping her distance. “But he couldn’t change anything. When I brought him back it was all for naught. You canno’ change the past. That’s why I had to try the future.”

  “But you couldn’t get anything from the future, so you couldn’t navigate properly?” Evelyn asked.

  Daria narrowed her eyes and gave Evelyn a long, calculating stare.

  “That’s exactly right,” she said and her look chilled Evelyn to her marrow. Daria reached for the nearly empty bottle. “One more for courage, then we’ll be off,” she said, pouring herself another glass. Evelyn shook her head when Daria held out the bottle.

  “I better not. I don’t have half a suckling pig in me to absorb it.”

  Evelyn was rather alarmed when Daria seemed to find this comment hilarious. She laughed so hard she had to grab onto the wall to hold herself up.

  “Evelyn,” she finally gasped. “I am sorry ye were brought here from yer terrible time. I truly
am. We are no’ enemies, aye?”

  “Aye,” Evelyn said, then thought she might be using it incorrectly. “I mean, no, of course we’re not.”

  Daria clapped her on the shoulder. “Good lass. Let’s go get yer man out o’ the tower and then ye’ll help me get my darling Brian back from hell.”

  “And you’ll send us back?” Evelyn asked. Daria nodded vigorously, then turned toward the door, swaying as she reached for the handle.

  She’s hammered, Evelyn thought. We’re going to die soon.

  Chapter 19

  Piper saw her hands resting on the open book before her, but was unable to move them. The words scrolled speedily across the page like a news ticker. She couldn’t blink, the words were an unintelligible blur before her eyes. Tearing her gaze from the book, she saw the tomb of Lady Daria Mcelheny Glen, her ancestor, who was clearly trying to impart some knowledge to her.

  Beyond the stone wall of the crypt, Piper could just make out the velvet loveseat and the cold fireplace of the sitting room. Piper knew she was in the sitting room, but could feel the chill dry air of the crypt, smell the musty odor from when she’d opened the tomb. The words that were carved into the wall of the chamber were rearranging themselves, multiplying, and jostling for position in front of her eyes. What had been a somewhat trite poem in Gaelic was now neatly printed English instructions. It was almost as if she were looking at an email carved in 24 point Times New Roman on the wall of the tomb. She read it through, then tried to read it aloud, hearing the words come out of her mouth all wrong. She wanted to write it down, afraid she’d forget it all again, but her hands still wouldn’t move. So, she just kept reading it, knowing what she had to do, as long as the wall didn’t disappear.

  “Piper!”

  The stone wall evaporated and Piper blinked a few times, feeling the words slip away like a dream. She turned angrily to see Mellie standing in the doorway, wearing a ridiculous old nightgown and wringing her hands. She tried to calm herself down so she wouldn’t upset Mellie further.