Ghosts of Culloden Moor 02 - Lachlan

by L. L. Muir

  Ewan held up one hand, reached into his pocket, and produced a set of keys. “The Lexus. There.” He pointed the keys at a silver SUV in the corner, unencumbered by bodies, and pushed a button. The lights flashed and the alarm began to squawk.

  Lachlan rose up before her with a roar, like something fierce rising from the sea. She had no time to turn or duck, but St. Clair never had a chance to pull the trigger. Lachlan’s body pushed her to the right, and by the time his feet landed back on the blacktop, it was over.

  The gun fell from St. Clair’s open hand. He hit his knees first, his surprised gaze focused on nothing as he fell forward. The end of a wiper blade protruded out of his neck on one side. The handle of a small black knife stuck out the other. A circle of blood expanded beneath him.

  The car alarm honked in a steady rhythm—a heartbeat that continued while St. Clair’s was slowing to a stop.

  Lachlan gathered her in his arms to shield her from the sight while he moved her away from the body. But it was a sight she could never un-see.

  She was struck by the irony. With all those intricate weapons her stepfather fawned over and hung on his walls, he would probably be humiliated to know that he’d been taken out by a short, little knife and a piece of plastic.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lachlan pulled Harper close, trying to still her shaking. With an unsteady hand, Ewan pressed his key and the car alarm ceased.

  “It is normal to quake after a battle is done,” he said to her and Ewan both. “All the horror of what ye were forced to do, what ye chose to do, and the violence aimed at yer person gathers together and tries to fit inside yer heart all at once.”

  Ewan nodded down the hill. Red and blue lights flashed and headed their way. Then all at once, they froze. The world was suddenly silent in the absence of sirens.

  The hairs on the back of Lachlan’s neck rose. He knew what was coming—Soncerae. But the woman, stiff in his embrace, was able to move this time.

  “What’s going on?” Harper whispered.

  He took her by the arms and faced her, but the words wouldn’t come. Then his attention was caught by a slender wisp of green mist slithering across the car park and his heart jumped up into his throat.

  ‘Tis time. ‘Tis over! All over!

  He watched to see if Harper noticed the mist. When she took a step away from it he knew that this visit from his wee witch would be different. Perhaps she meant to allow him to say goodbye properly.

  His instincts told him to shield his lass from all he could, so he moved her between himself and the immobile form of Ewan MacFarland.

  Dread and adrenaline warred in his veins as it had the morning of the battle. But there was a difference. At Culloden, he’d been anxious to get started, anxious to know the outcome. But standing there, knowing that warmth at his back would soon be gone, that he’d never pull those shoulders to him again, made him anxious to draw out the next moments and make them last a lifetime.

  The mist began to build, like the tendrils that stalked across the moor as often as the sun rose. Like the beginnings of that fire Soni lit on the solstice.

  There was no mistaking the Muir mist now.

  His heart cried out and began breaking at the seams. And without it, he suddenly wasn’t brave enough to look at Harper’s face and say goodbye.

  “What is that?” Harper’s plaintive voice quivered. Poor lass must be so weary of surprises.

  “Fear not, Sweeting. ‘Tis just my wee witchling come to call.”

  She pulled on his sleeve but he resisted. “But the moon isn’t up!”

  He had to swallow to get the words past his throat. “Aye, lassie. But yer safe now. ‘Tis all I bargained for. Ewan’s a good man, Harper. I want ye to trust him. MacFarland ancestors stay close about that one. They’ll see that he does honorably by ye.”

  “Lachlan!” she pled. “You can’t leave me! You can’t!” She tried to push him aside, but he held fast with both hands, pinning her behind him from both sides. “Where is she? I want to talk to this witch!”

  “Ah, Lachlan.” Suddenly Soni was standing ten feet away, still in the robes of Summer Solstice. The mist grew thick and gathered about her, moving slowly, clockwise. Ethereal forms took shape, then faded and were replaced by others. He wished he could spare Harper from the sight of something so unearthly, but she would have to be blind not to see it.

  “The lass is safe then?” Soni nodded over his shoulder, then waved. Her wide sleeve fell back to her elbow. Her smile fled and she hurried to cover her arm again, but Lachlan had gotten a good look at it. There was something wrong there.

  “What ails ye, Soni?”

  The witch lass rolled her eyes. “Nothing. I promise. I’ll be good as new in a few days. I swear it.”

  Lachlan wondered if his friend had just lied to him for the first time. But he would be able to speak with her later, after they were far away from Salt Lake City and the brave young woman at his back.

  Soni exhaled sharply. “Now. She wants to speak to me, Lachlan. Step aside.” She waved her hand, careful to hold her sleeve against her arm.

  He hesitated. Now that Soncerae had shown herself as a woman with power, would she meddle with anyone besides her pet ghosties?

  As foolish as it felt to do it, he asked her.

  Soni’s smile pulled to one side. “Ye mean, will I send Harper off somewhere? I will not. I cannot. I was blessed with…gifts…so that I might aid Culloden’s brave lads. Seventy-nine of them, as ye know, so I’ve little time for others. Now, let Harper have her say.”

  He pulled in a deep breath—possibly his last real breath—and released it slowly before stepping aside. He still couldn’t bear to look at Harper, so he kept his eyes on Soni and put his hands behind his back, content to be able to stand beside his lass for a moment or two longer.

  “Harper?” Soni bore herself as someone much older than the 16-year-old he knew her to be. Like a queen, in fact.

  The lass stepped out from behind him. She tucked a few fingers into Lachlan’s belt and held tight, but he sensed it was more from being nervous than an attempt to keep him earthbound. Perhaps it was both. He took hold of her distant shoulder and pulled her up against his side in any case.

  Dear Soni pretended not to notice.

  “Well,” Harper said. “First, I guess I should thank you for sending him to rescue me.”

  “Ye’re welcome.” Soni tilted her chin and stared straight into his eyes, and the truth dawned like the morning sun. She’d been lying before when she’d said Harper was only a random damsel in need of saving! The lass was meant to be his, even if only for a day! And his heart soared in spite of its broken pieces.

  The moisture gathering in his eyes was yet more proof he was still alive. But for how long?

  Harper cleared her throat. “But I’d like to ask you to leave him with me.” Her voice broke, but she recovered. “Please.” And that last word exposed every emotion he was feeling himself.

  Please, Soni!

  “I need him like I’ve never needed anything in my life. And without him, I’ll… To be honest, I’ll be fine. My life will be fine. I’ll figure out a way to be fine. But I’ll never be more than that. Does that make sense?”

  “Oh, aye.” Soni gave her a sad smile. “And I’m sorry for it. But truly, there is nothing I can do to change what must happen now. With the help of my uncle Wickham, I’ve borrowed 79 spirits from the other side, ye ken. And I must send a spirit back.

  Harper jumped forward, out of his embrace. “Then take me.”

  He tried to pull her back, but she shrugged him off. “She doesna understand, Soni.”

  “I do understand. Take me!” She turned to face him, then backed toward Soni. “Don’t you see? Letting you die again would be like standing by and…and watching while someone murdered a beautiful animal. I can’t let that happen.” She turned back to Soni and realized she was standing inside the misty circle of green, but she didn’t panic. Instead, she repeated herself. �
��Take me instead.”

  Lachlan tried to reach her, but the mist was a barrier he was unable to cross.

  “Soncerae! Do it and I shall never forgive ye. I will hound ye to hell, I will.”

  “Hush, Lachlan.” Soni grinned. “I’ll not be taking the lass anywhere.”

  The mist fell like a weak cloud washed into the ground by a heavy rain. The glow of green disappeared and, seeing the barrier gone, Lachlan tried to reach Harper again. But something unseen remained, something he couldn’t get past!

  “Uh, oh.” Soni bit her lip.

  Lachlan spread his feet to keep his balance in a windstorm that came out of nowhere. When the air settled, a man, dressed in modern clothing, stood face to face with Soni, and far too close to Harper for Lachlan’s peace of mind. He stepped around the group so he could see their faces and force Harper to look at him. Hopefully, he could lure her away from the others.

  “Ye gave yer word, Soncerae!” The man’s outrage sliced through the air like a lion’s roar.

  The wee witch dared to smile up at him. “And I have not broken it, Uncle.”

  “Ye must have hinted at it,” he said, though the anger was receding as quickly as the wind storm had. “Else how would she have known what was required?”

  “I tell ye, Uncle. The woman seemed earnest.”

  “Ye canna take her,” Lachlan bellowed. “Give her over!”

  Soni’s uncle turned and glared. “Ye! Ye and yer Highland friends—”

  “Uncle Wickham! Ye gave yer word as well.”

  The man seethed for a moment, then inclined his head to Lachlan as if begrudgingly granting him some sort of forgiveness. He turned back to the witch. “Aye. I have given it. I have given ye much, Our Soncerae. And I wish I could take it all back.” He reached out and patted her cheek.

  “Yes, Uncle.”

  The man sighed loudly…and vanished.

  Lachlan didn’t understand their argument, but he wasted no time. He hurried to Harper, thankful nothing stopped him, and pulled her back, expecting the green mist to return at any second and separate them again. He smiled into her tearstained face, but had no words to thank her for the sacrifice she’d tried to make. So he thanked her with a tender kiss.

  If Soni hadn’t shuffled her feet behind him, he could have gone on kissing Harper for a good two hundred years at least. But alas, it was time to pay the piper.

  “I hope, Sweeting, that someone worthy makes ye take back yer words. That he makes yer life much more than fine.”

  Her eyes flashed in Soni’s direction and back again. “Just ignore her, Lachlan. Maybe she’ll go away.”

  “Come, my bonny laddie,” the witch called. “Come and bid me a proper farewell, aye?”

  He spun on his boot heel and kept Harper behind him. “Nay, Soni. I care not what she offered. I will not allow ye to take her in my stead, do ye hear? Call that Wickham back if needs be.”

  Soni rolled her eyes. “I won’t be taken yer woman, Lachlan. Are ye daft? Did ye pay no attention to what happened here?” She huffed out her breath. “She stays. Ye, Lachlan McLean, are to be left here to live or perish how ye will. The lass has bought ye another mortal life.”

  “What?” Harper jumped out from behind him in her excitement. “He gets to stay?”

  “He gets to stay.” And to him Soni said, “I’ve got others to see to, Lachlan. Give us a kiss.”

  He hurried to her and took her wee hands in his. “How have ye accomplished such a thing, Soncerae? Have ye sold yer soul—”

  “Posh! Go on with ye. Ye’ve seen Wickham for yerself. No devil shall have me, I swear it.”

  “And yer arm?”

  “Mind yer business.” She slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

  “And the others? Will they be as fortunate as I?”

  Her smile turned sad. “It is too soon to ken how many will fare well. Ye’re fortunate, as ye say.”

  “He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Thank ye, lass. I get the sense yer uncle doesna believe the 79 of us are worth whatever sacrifice ye’ve made for us, but I thank ye just the same.” He leaned close to her ear. “And thank ye for Harper.”

  “Oh?” She pulled back, all wide eyes and innocence. “I’m not Fate, Lachlan.” She dropped his hands and stepped back. Her form began to fade, and just before she was gone altogether, she giggled. “But I may know Her.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Red, white, and blue lights flashed across the Scot’s t-shirt and he turned to grin at Harper. When he opened his arms, she was happy to run and jump into them like a teenage cheerleader. They were too busy grinning into each other’s faces to worry about the police cars tearing into the parking lot.

  “I’ll take good care of you, Lachlan. I promise. You won’t regret staying.”

  “Auch, lass. Why would I regret staying? I’ve my life back and a beautiful woman to share it with. It’s fine compensation. Fine indeed.” He slowly lowered her to the ground and she realized he was shaking like a leaf.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Aye. I’m fine, lass,” he said loudly as he got down on his knees and put his hands above his head as he was ordered to do. Ewan was on his knees too, smiling at the poor police officer who was being harangued by Millie, who insisted he watch the footage right away so her boss, the attorney, could get off his knees.”

  A cop came up to her. “Are you Harper? From the Amber Alert?”

  She nodded, then waved for him to get out of her face. Eventually, she had to get down on her knees too in order to talk to her own personal Scot. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”

  “Trembling, lass. Apparently there are a great many things trying to get inside my heart at the same time.” He was hauled to his feet and another cop tried to keep her from following him.

  “Well, I hope I’m one of them,” she shouted.

  A man pushed on Lachlan’s head as he was placed in the back of a squad car. Then the door was shut and his smiling face was visible again. ““Auch, lass,” he said through the half-open window. “Ye’re all of them.”

  THE END

  Watch for JAMIE coming in July.

  If you missed The Gathering (#1), you can find it here.

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  The website for the series can be found at www.ghostsofcullodenmoor.weebly.com

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  About the Author

  L.L. Muir lives on the Utah side of the Rocky Mountains with her husband and family. She appreciates funny friends, a well-fed campfire, and rocking sleepy children.

  A disturbing number of almonds were consumed while writing LACHLAN.

  If you like her books, be a sport and leave a review. You can reach her through her website— www.llmuir.weebly.com , or on Facebook at L.L. Muir.

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