by Willa Blair
Latharn nodded his approval. Fiona was a traditional girl; her lullabies had been the family legends. She would understand in time.
Brodie dusted the countertop as he mused on his ancient cousin’s fate. “They say he was a powerful sorcerer, trained by his gifted mother and the clan druid. They say he’d only begun to discover just how powerful he was when the dark bana-buidhseach entrapped him within the ball. They say Cousin Latharn scorned the woman after taking her to his bed.”
“That is not what happened at all.” Latharn groaned. “Why can they never get it right? Every century it gets worse with the telling. At least this century, they got the part about the sorcery right.” Three hundred years ago, they told that he was some sort of mythical ogre.
Fiona tucked her arms around her husband’s waist and rested her cheek upon his back. “Well, if Cousin Latharn was as good a lover as a certain MacKay lad I know, then I can understand how the woman could be upset and determined for a bit of revenge.”
With a nod toward the back room, Brodie waggled a suggestive brow. “Ye know, we’ve yet to hang the open sign on the door just yet. And there is a bench in the back room that looks verra promising by the way it is designed.”
A pang of loneliness tore through his chest. Latharn heaved a weary sigh. This was the part he hated the most, the utter seclusion. The isolation tormented him. Down through the centuries, he had agonized while watching his guardians with their loved ones. The solitude was the gaping wound that never healed. He wanted his life back. He wanted his Nessa. Dammit. He wanted to live.
Fiona smiled, easing her way toward the back room. With a toss of her head, she beckoned for Brodie to follow. “Why, Brodie MacKay. That bench is for sale as an authentic midwife’s labor chair. I canna believe ye would suggest such a thing. Ye should be ashamed of yourself.”
As they turned in unison toward the back room, the bell above the outer door jangled. Someone had chosen that inopportune moment to enter the main room of the shop.
Latharn stared across the room, flattening his hands against the frigid walls of his prison. It was her. She had arrived at last. His Nessa stood in Scotland, sharing the same room as the accursed globe. She was beautiful. The sight of her stole the breath from his lungs. He clawed his fingers against the glass, itching to touch the silk of her hair. He yearned to caress her, to take her into his arms. She was so close. She was almost within his reach.
“Nessa,” he whispered.
“Excuse me. I was wondering if you could give us some directions? I must’ve gotten an out-of-date map at the airport.”
A flustered redhead stood tapping her fingers on the counter where she’d already spread out a several-times refolded map. Her face was dark as a storm cloud; it was obvious she and her companion had been having a heated discussion. The elfin brunette stood just behind her. The brunette was not happy. She leaned against the counter glaring at the redhead. A disgruntled look upon her face, she rested her head on her hand as though she’d rather be anywhere but standing beside the redhead.
Latharn tore his eyes away from Nessa long enough to sneak a glance at Brodie. “God’s teeth, Brodie.” The man’s cock stood at full attention making a pup tent in the front of his kilt. If they were outside, Latharn would call up an icy rainstorm to help the man bring things under control. Scrubbing his face, Latharn chuckled to himself and leaned against the crystal wall. Well, the lad was on his own, he’d just have to keep his randy arse behind the counter.
Brodie coughed and adjusted the front of his kilt as he edged closer behind the waist-high counter. His voice a bit strained, he cleared his throat and smiled at the two young women.
“Where might ye be headed? I’ve not seen ye here in town before. And from your accent, I don’t believe ye’re from anywhere near Balnakiel.”
The tiny brunette grinned, her face lighting up with a victorious smirk as she nudged the redhead in the shoulder. “I told you we overshot Durness an hour ago and you should’ve turned right at the last burial cairn!”
“That’s my girl,” Latharn purred. He loved it when Nessa showed her fire. She looked tired. What he wouldn’t give to massage all the aches and pains from her body. She worked too hard. Well, that would soon be over. When he was free of the globe, she would work no more. He would take care of her. She wouldn’t have a care in the world. Her life and her happiness would be in his hands. He would take care of her every need.
“Don’t start with me, Nessa,” the redhead hissed in irritation. “We always end up where we’re headed.” Her voice softened as she turned to face the politely smiling MacKays. With a nod toward the map, she added with a tight-lipped smile, “We just sometimes take the scenic route. Besides. I didn’t realize this was a race.”
“Hmm…that one there is going to be the undoing of some poor man,” Latharn noted with a grin. He had been watching Trish’s friendship with Nessa for years. Latharn missed the camaraderie he’d once had with his clan whenever he watched the two women together. It reminded him of just how isolated he was. He swallowed hard as he pushed the memories of his clan aside. Enough of this senseless bickering. It was time to put on a little show.
With a polite smile forced across her face, Trish elbowed Nessa in the ribs. Just as she opened her mouth and started to speak, Latharn jostled the witch’s ball across the shelf. If Brodie hadn’t caught it when it reached the edge, it would’ve vibrated off into the floor.
Tiptoeing to get a better view across the polished counter, a look of wonder crossed Nessa’s face. “What made it rattle off the shelf like that? I didn’t feel a tremor or anything. Did you?”
Nessa leaned closer and studied the crystal ball Brodie held between his hands. The lights from the sparkling orb pulsated and danced, reflecting up into her face. “Hello at last, my precious love,” Latharn whispered up into her eyes. He waved his hand across the sphere, increasing the rhythm of the lights to match the pulse of his heart.
Brodie’s face paled. He swallowed hard as he risked a glance at his wide-eyed wife. His voice cracked as he coughed and slid the globe to a safer spot on the counter. “It must’ve been the vibration of the slamming door. I’ve needed to level that shelf and tighten it for some time now. The slightest movement always sets this thing to dancing. Ye never know when it’s going to come flying off the shelf and try to go crashing to the floor.”
Fiona rapped her knuckles on the counter and raised the map to Nessa’s face.”Ye need to go back this way but a few kilometers. Here’s the turn ye must’ve missed.”
Nessa poked Trish on the shoulder again and waggled a teasing brow. She held the marked map just inches beneath Trish’s upturned nose and goaded her with a know-it-all voice. “See? I told you! What good does it do for you to buy all these maps if you’re not going to listen to me when I’m telling you what they say?”
Latharn chuckled, leaning harder against the infernal glass wall separating him from his love. If only he could touch her, she stood so close. The heat of her filled his senses.
“Fine,” Trish muttered through clenched teeth. Nodding to the MacKays, she snatched the map from Nessa’s hands and stuffed it under her arm. “Thank you for all your help. Once you get your shop set up, we’ll stop back in and have a look around. If the rest of your items are as unusual as that crystal, your business should really do well.”
Fiona cleared her throat and glanced at her speechless husband who stood with the globe clenched between his hands. “Why, thank ye for your kind words. That’ll just be grand.” Fiona twitched her head in gratitude as she spared a glance at the animated witch’s ball.
“Nessa, no!” Latharn pounded his fists against the glass as Nessa moved away from him toward the door. Now that he had her so close, he couldn’t bear to see her go. The scent of her perfume wafted through the glass, a delicate orchid scent. Latharn grasped at the sweet essence as though he could pull her into the crystal by inhaling the fragrance that had once surrounded her body. By all that is holy, plea
se don’t let her leave. He flattened his palms against the frigid walls, his heart falling the farther she moved away.
When the two women had argued their way out of the shop, Fiona locked the door and pulled the blinds. “What was that about?” Fiona hissed, eying the dwindling light flickering from within the glass ball.
With a puzzled look, Brodie handled the sphere with a ginger touch and eased it over onto the counter. “For some reason, Cousin Latharn seems verra interested with one or both of those foreign lasses.”
Fiona pursed her lips, her brow creased as she studied the pulsating light.
“Was it the fiery redhead with the well-endowed chest and the tiny upturned nose?” As she turned the ball, she leaned in closer, watching the globe as she named Trish’s most obvious attributes. “Well, that brought no reaction. Then it could only have been the tiny curly-haired lass with the striking blue eyes.”
It was about time they got to the point. Latharn responded with the entire spectrum of his emotions. Now he would give them a light show. It was time Brodie and Fiona met their ancestor. He illuminated the entire room in a play of iridescent lasers. The energized light electrified everything it touched. Every surface in the room rainbowed with a prismatic glow.
His brows arched to his hairline, Brodie splayed his hands across the countertop as he stared at Latharn’s prison. Leaning in closer, his breath fogged the glass as he matter-of-factly spoke to the ball. “Well then. That was a definite choice. So ye like the dark-haired lass?”
Latharn laughed so hard the globe shook. Brodie was the master of the understatement. This century must have diluted the lad. Latharn vibrated the globe again, sending it scooting across the counter.
As he captured the vibrating base between his hands, Brodie gaped into the pulsating depths of the crystal.
“What do ye think we should do now, Fiona?”
“Ye go after her, ye blessed fool!” Latharn’s deep voice rumbled out of the core of the orb and echoed off the walls of the shop. As his thundering voice dissipated and faded away, so did the lasers dancing about the thrumming globe.
Brodie’s face drained of color. He pushed away the crystal and steadied himself against the edge of the counter, his hands shaking, knuckles white. He opened his mouth as though about to speak, closed it, then opened it again. Visibly swallowing as though about to choke, he finally found his voice. “Ye can make yourself heard! Is this the spirit of Latharn MacKay? And if it is, why have ye not spoken to us before now?”
The light of the orb diminished in strength as the crystal reduced to a subtle glow. Latharn blew out a weary breath as he paced the circumference of his prison. His voice grew quieter as he tersely replied, “Aye, I am Latharn MacKay. As for allowing ye to hear my voice? Up until now, I had nothing to say.”
Brodie’s jaw dropped. “Ye had nothing to say?” He spun on his heel and jerked his chin toward Fiona. “Fiona and I have been your caretakers for nigh on six years now. I have been around ye since I was but a gleam in my Da’s wandering eye. And ye mean to tell me in all those years, ye didna’ have one small thing ye might have wanted to say to us? Not one word?”
The tension in his chest eased a bit and Latharn chuckled with relief. Brodie had fire. Good for the lad. At least, he’d not considered himself mad when Latharn had spoken aloud. The MacKay power was strong in this one. He swirled the energy just beneath the surface of the crystal and shimmered it at Brodie’s growling reprimand. “If it makes ye feel any better, Cousin, I havena spoken to anyone in several hundred years. I’ve no’ uttered a word to the outside world since my mother took her life and traveled to the next plane.”
Fiona covered Brodie’s hand with hers and silenced her husband with a shake of her head. “Forgive him, Cousin Latharn. It’s just that Brodie has always defended ye and felt a particular sorrow for all ye have suffered.”
With a curt nod, Brodie cleared his throat as he stared down at Fiona’s hand over his. “Aye, please forgive me, Cousin. My words were thoughtless but I meant ye no ill will. I just thought ye would have spoken to us before now. It might have helped us in your search for the woman who was the one to set ye free.”
Latharn deepened the color of the globe by allowing his emotions to fuse into its aura. The force of the light intensified as his voice echoed through the room.
“I’ve watched ye since before your soul decided to leave the cosmos and join us on this plane. I know your heart is pure, Brodie MacKay. Hear me when I say I am proud to know ye will be the one to aide me when I rejoin the world.”
Brodie propped his elbows on the counter, his face reddened as he strained to see even deeper into the orb. “The legend says the one woman ye could ever love must whisper for ye to join her and be her lover. Is that true? Is that the secret to breaking the curse and setting ye free?”
Latharn caused the witch’s ball to shimmer with his response. It flared brighter then the light from the farthest window. “From everything my mother could find that appears to be the way of it. Ye see, my fine cousin, the dark sorceress, Deardha, thought me quite incapable of ever losing my heart to another. And to tell ye the absolute truth of it, I had often doubted it myself.”
Latharn pulsed the glowing aura with each word he spoke. He ensured the energy kept perfect tempo with his words. “When she first cast me inside this crystal hell, I meditated upon the mysteries for the first hundred years. With my mind, I searched through many planes of existence to find the melody that resonated with my own. It was during my meditations that I found her spirit’s existence. Her essence called out to me from far across time and space. Her song came to me from deep within the mystical winds. It echoed into the depths of these crystal walls. When her soul decided it was time to choose a physical form, she was born. Ye canna imagine my relief when I found she existed on this plane. The summer of her eighteenth year, an act of cruelty revealed the pathway to her dreams. Her heartache called out to me. It weakened the void. It enabled me to connect with her…to contact her subconscious mind. Through her dreams, I’ve been able to form a bond with her even though I’ve never been able to speak. Ye have no idea how difficult it is to attempt to guide someone to ye without ever saying a word.”
Scratching his jaw, Brodie paced back and forth in front of the counter. “Why can ye not speak to her? Why can ye not talk with her while ye walk among her dreams? As your guardians, they warned us never to speak of the curse. Your glass tomb would be shattered and your soul splintered into the depths of the eternal abyss. Are ye telling me the same thing could happen if ye tried speaking to the lass whilst ye walked in her dreams? “
Brodie’s innocence amazed him. It must be the century. Latharn’s rumbling chuckle boiled up through his belly, rippled through the glass and spilled out across the room. “If I was able to speak to the lass, then I’d be able to tell her how to break the spell. Your heart is too pure, Brodie, m’lad. Ye would make a terrible wielder of dark magic.”
Fiona shoved her face closer to the globe as she pushed Brodie aside. “Are ye trying to tell us ye’ve turned evil, Latharn MacKay? If that be the case, we’ll not be helping ye break free of your prison in any way! We’ll have no evil walking among us. We’ll leave ye to your crystal hell!”
Fiona had no idea. What a dear sweet lass. Latharn struggled to remember his descendents couldn’t fully understand. How could they? They had never walked his path. He inhaled a deep, cleansing breath, and forced himself to rein in his temper. With a jerk of his hand, the room swelled with a pulsating flash of energy. The shockwave blasted out of the ball and shoved them both away from the counter.
“I am not evil, Fiona, my lass. However, I will warn ye of this. After six hundred years of imprisonment inside this globe, my patience is no what it used to be.”
Chapter Seven
He lit the candles. This time, the ritual would be right. She had spoken to him and shown him the error of his ways. He had the book now. She had given him strength, and taught him the me
aning of the words. The moon was waxing and he had a bit of the woman’s hair. With this spell, he would have his revenge. Thick, sputtering candles lit the darkened room. It reeked of the incense he’d used to cleanse the space. He’d copied the diagram on the floor with the stone he’d dug from the graveyard.
He’d cleansed his body then ritually fasted and bathed to honor the Dark One. He had stripped naked, shaving his torso to be marked with the symbols for the spell. The preparations were complete. This time, she would be honored and impressed.
He traced his finger down the page. His lips moved as he repeated the words to himself. Over and over, he repeated the curse until he was certain he’d get the rhythm correct. He must be perfect. She must be pleased. He must not disappoint her.
Hand shaking, he took the athame and ran the blade across his palm. He didn’t flinch as the razor sharp steel of the ritual knife sliced into his flesh. Unblinking, he stood mesmerized as blood drizzled down the tips of his fingers and dripped into the awaiting chalice.
He brought a neatly tied bundle of reddish blonde hair to his lips for a kiss before adding it to the cup of blood. Then he sprinkled some powder from a brown, folded packet, smiling as the contents bubbled and hissed. After tucking the cup beneath one arm, he walked in a counterclockwise circle around the table full of sputtering candles. The choking incense filled the room. Fists pounded the inside of his head. The smoke from the candles stung his eyes; he blinked as his sweat also blinded him. He breathed in more smoke. She would strengthen him. If he remained steady, she would return to his dreams.
He dipped his fingers in the murky concoction and smeared the symbols on his torso. He muttered the curse under his breath as he circled about the table. Nine circuits he made around the table, chanting the ancient curse. Nine times, he called out to the darkest power to give him the magic he desired. Nine times, her voice echoed inside his mind. She promised him if he did her bidding, all he asked for would be his.
