“Please, tell me,” I whisper.
“She started to hear voices. They diagnosed her as schizophrenic and put her on antipsychotics. It didnae help, and she was sent to an institution.”
“A real mental institution? Did they hurt her there?”
“Oh, Heather, no. It’s not like in those scary movies you watch. They didnae experiment on her or anything. They wanted to help her. It’s all in her medical notes.”
“So, she just like, got better?” I ask quietly. I can’t imagine spending a whole year in a mental hospital. Six weeks at Great Lakes was more than enough for me.
“Aye. Shortly after she turned seventeen, she was released to her parents. She seemed perfectly fine, if a little odd at times. She didnae even have to take medication anymore. I think she just wanted to put that part of her life behind her. I dinnae even know if my father knew about it.”
“Poor Gram.” I try not to think about what I’ve been going through lately. At least I don’t hear voices. Maybe the night terrors will pass with time, just like Gram’s did.
“I didnae tell you all this to make you worry. I wanted to explain to you what I found out. So you’d know what to expect if she gets worse.”
“I just wish there was something I could do for her.” God, if Dr. Casella is looking into my family history of mental illness, she must think I’m crazy.
“I also spoke with your parents,” my aunt tells me casually. “I mentioned that you wanted to go to the cottage.”
“And…?” Despite the awful revelations about my grandmother, I can’t help but perk up.
“And they said it was fine as long as I went with you.”
My face falls. “It’s okay. I know you’re not up for it.” But it’s not okay. I need to get there somehow. My mind whirls with possibilities. I could probably take a bus to the nearest major town, then—
My aunt’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “So I told them I would,” she says with a grin.
“Wait…you’re coming?”
She shakes her head. “Heather, I never thought you were a slow one. That’s just what I told your parents. I’m letting you girls go without me.”
“Thank you, Aunt Abbie!” I lurch across the bed and hug her.
“For lying to your parents?” She laughs. “Not exactly my proudest moment.”
“Thank you thank you thank you.”
“Calm down,” she tells me, and I give her one last squeeze. She’s so thin now, I feel like I could break her. “There are conditions, though.”
I sit back. “Anything.”
“You have to call me as soon as you get there. Your mobile phone may not work, so you’ll have to go into town and use one of the landlines.”
“Okay. No problem.”
“And no alcohol. I know Fiona’s a little wild…but if she’s driving, I want you to make it clear that she will no’ be drinking.”
“I’ll make sure,” I promise.
“And lastly, we can never, ever tell your parents I let you go up there without me.”
“I thought you were a grown-up and therefore couldn’t get in trouble with them,” I tease.
“Aye…while I cannae be grounded, if anything happened to you, your mother would most certainly kill me.”
“I’ll never say a word.” I mime locking my mouth with a key.
She smiles. “Okay, then. All this emotional sharing is exhausting. I’m going to bed.” She stands, plants a kiss on the top of my head. “Good night, Heather.”
“Night!” I call after her as I grab my phone from the nightstand.
I call Fiona first and ask her if she wants to come.
“To the Highlands? Why?”
“Because it will be fun. Like an adventure.”
“Cannae we have an adventure in Edinburgh? I know where we can get fake IDs made, hit the clubs….”
“As fun as an illegal bender sounds, my aunt lied to my parents so we could go. That’s huge. I don’t think we’ll have another chance.”
“So you’re lying to your parents…and I’m sure Asha’s going to have to lie to hers. Not exactly the level of debauchery I hoped for, but I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
“So you’ll come…and drive?”
She pauses. “Aye…fine.”
“You don’t have to check with your mom?”
Fiona snorts.
“I mean, your mom doesn’t need you to work at the café?” I clarify.
“With the new waiter, I think she can spare me.” She pauses, and I can feel her thinking about what she’s agreed to. “How old is this cottage, anyway? There better be a working toilet!”
“My aunt assures me that there is indoor plumbing,” I say, hoping she won’t ask about the electricity.
“Okay, I’ll make sure I can borrow the van.” There’s a slight pause and then she screams, “MUM, CAN I HAVE THE VAN FOR THE WEEKEND FOR A ROAD TRIP TO THE HIGHLANDS WITH ASHA AND HEATHER?” A longer pause. “Heather, she said it’s fine.”
“Great…why can’t my mom be that easygoing?”
“Please, I wish my mum was halfway around the world. For a few months, anyway.”
I laugh. I can just imagine Fiona completely unsupervised. Edinburgh would not be safe. “Okay, I’ve got to call Asha.”
After I hang up with Fiona I confirm things with Asha. It’s all set. I stare at my phone for a long while. Then I pick it up and dial, my heart fluttering in my chest. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey, Robby. How would you like to come with me on a trip to the Highlands?”
FIONA’S MOM’S VAN has two seats up front, two in the middle, and a great big seat in the back that can theoretically accommodate three people. The seats fold down for deliveries and up for passengers. So we all fit perfectly, with enough room for all our crap. “Guys, we’re only going up there for two nights. What is all this stuff?” I ask, shoving the last of it into the back.
“Ask my mum,” Fiona says, adjusting the driver’s seat and eyeing us in the rearview mirror. “She packed extra in case we need it.”
I sit up front with Fiona. Robby is in one of the middle seats, and Asha and Duncan take the back. Asha giggles, and I refuse to look at what they’re doing back there.
Traffic is pretty light for the summer, and soon we’re out of the city on the highway up north. I glance back at Robby, only to find him staring at me. I turn around in my seat as far as my belt will allow. “So…how’s work?” I ask lamely.
“Really good. The tips are great, and the perks just keep coming. You wouldn’t happen to want to go to the Highland Games next week? Free tickets…”
“That could be fun.”
“Can we come?” Asha shouts up. “We can double-date.”
“It’s not a date,” I say, but then look at Robby.
“It could be a date.” He grins his crooked grin. “If you want it to be one.”
I can feel my face redden. “Or we can make it a group thing,” I say. “Then everyone could come without worrying about dates….” I trail off. I catch Fiona watching me sideways. She mouths something that looks like “Coward,” and my face warms again.
“As much as I’m loving listening to this super-awkward conversation,” Duncan cuts in, “I meant to ask Robby what we’re going to do if my mum calls his mum.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Well, I told my parents I was at his house, and he told his mom he was at mine,” Duncan explains. “Have you never seen an American sitcom? I just know we’re going to be found out.”
“It’s fine,” Robby says. “My mum barely ever has her phone. I can guarantee she’s not going to call to check up on me.”
“So wait,” Fiona says. “I’m the only one who didn’t lie to her parents? I feel like I have to do something extra bad just to compete with all of you.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Asha mutters.
“You didn’t tell your mom about this trip?” I ask Robby. Maybe he didn’t want her t
o mention it to my aunt, which would get me in a lot of trouble. Aunt Abbie thinks this is a girls-only excursion.
He lowers his voice. “My mum thinks I shouldnae be spending a lot of time with you.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure how to take this news, but it feels like a punch in the gut.
He covers quickly. “She just thinks I’ll take up too much of your time…time you should be spending with your aunt.”
“That makes sense,” I say, unconvinced.
“It’s been hard on my mum. She and Abbie have been best friends forever, and she wants to help her. She’s trying to cook up a cancer cure, as if she can figure it out when scientists around the world are stumped.”
“Don’t tell her,” I say, “but Aunt Abbie usually doesn’t even take the remedies. I mean, she can barely keep normal food down, much less your mom’s gross concoctions.”
“Hey, those gross concoctions work,” Duncan says. “Mrs. Brodie gave me this face cream that completely got rid of my acne. I mean, one day it was all puss and pimples, and the next, clear as a…” He pauses. “Too much information?”
Robby laughs. “No, Duncan, we all saw your epic acne. We know what a spotty git you used to be.”
“No need to be an arse.” He reaches up and punches Robby’s shoulder. “My point is that her medicines work. Better than the cream I got from the chemist’s.”
“She fancies herself as an herbal healer,” Robby says, rubbing his shoulder.
“If this were the Dark Ages, your mom would be burned as a witch,” Asha adds from the backseat.
“She’s always been about natural healing and mixing together weird herbal remedies. Remember that shampoo she used to make me and Alistair use?”
“That oregano one?”
“Yeah, I smelled like a bloody pizza.” He grins at me, his dark eyes flashing. Then he turns to Asha. “But you know, most witches in Scotland weren’t burned. Not alive, anyway.”
“They weren’t?”
“No. I mean, some were, in the early sixteen hundreds, but halfway through the century they changed tactics. Witches were hanged first, then burned.”
“Well, aren’t you just brimming with information? Learn that at your job, did you?” Asha teases. “Did they make you read a pamphlet or something?”
“Actually, yes,” he admits. “They made all us tour guides read a bunch of history so we’d seem like we knew what we were talking about.”
“So why were they hanged and then burned?” I ask.
“Maybe they just wanted to be thorough,” Duncan jokes.
“Ever hear of Blood Witches?” I ask, fishing for information.
“Blood Witches?” Fiona says.
“Is that a thing?” Asha asks.
“Sounds like something Heather would like,” Fiona calls back over her shoulder to Asha. “She’s always watching those scary movies. Curse of the Blood Witch sounds like one of those awful films she’s always making us watch.”
“Ha-ha. You know you love those movies too.” I turn to Robby. “I’d never heard of a Blood Witch before this summer.”
“Maybe it’s a Scottish thing,” Duncan ventures.
“Maybe,” Robby continues. “Apparently there really were these women, a group of healers, who would mix their blood into their remedies.”
“Ewwww,” Asha says.
Fiona makes a strange, choked noise.
“Who would do that?” Duncan asks.
“I dinnae know.” He shrugs. “Women who thought themselves to be witches. I didnae say I did it. I’m just telling you the story. A whole gaggle of witches were caught bleeding into their potions.”
“ ‘Gaggle’?” Asha interrupts. “That can’t be right.”
“Why not? Witches fly on broomsticks. They could be a gaggle,” Duncan says.
“Or a flock,” Asha offers. “That might work better.”
“Coven,” I say quietly.
“What, love?” Robby asks.
“A coven. A group of witches is a coven.”
Robby looks at me, eyebrows raised.
“I watch a lot of horror movies, remember?”
“Aye, right, of course. So this coven of witches were caught and tried and sentenced to death for consorting with the devil or whatever witches do for fun on a Saturday night. They were supposed to be burned alive, but do you want to know the real freaky part?” he asks, his voice low for effect. “When they went to set them on fire, they wouldnae burn.”
“They were like, fireproof?” I ask. Gram said that too. A Blood Witch couldn’t burn.
“I guess. So after that they started to hang witches.”
“So if witches are fireproof, why wouldnae they also be noose-proof?” Duncan asks.
“Seems like a witch could just wave her wand and be sipping sangria in Spain before they even hit the end of the rope,” Fiona adds.
“The Blood Witches must have been bloody awful at witching,” Duncan says with a grin.
“People died,” I say quietly. “Women suffered horrible, torturous deaths.” I can almost smell the smoke in my dreams. “Even the ones who weren’t burned—they didn’t deserve to die.”
“I…Sorry…,” Duncan apologizes. “I didnae think about it like that.”
“It did happen four hundred years ago, Heather,” Asha says.
“No, you’re right.” I look over my shoulder and give them a weak smile. “I just meant it was a horrible thing. People who were trying to help, or who were just not well liked, were tormented and killed for no good reason. It’s disturbing.”
“I don’t get it,” Fiona says. “Why didn’t they burn? How can a human being be fireproof?”
“Are witches human?” Duncan asks. “I thought they were the devil’s handmaidens or something.”
“It’s just a story, mate,” Robby tells him. “There is no such thing as a witch.”
“He’s never met my mother,” I mumble, and Fiona laughs. “You know, it’s strange,” I add. “My gram keeps talking about witches. I mean, she’s not all there anymore, but it’s making me have some freaky dreams. She mentioned the cottage, and then I had a dream about that, too.”
“You must be really suggestible,” Asha says.
Robby gives me a wicked look. “So if we talk about something before you go to sleep tonight, do you think you’ll dream it?”
“I don’t even want to know….”
“You…me…candlelight…”
“In your dreams, Robby,” I say, giggling.
“Maybe in yours.” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Oh, I love this song.” Duncan lurches into the front of the van to turn up the volume.
“Seat belts, please!” Fiona shouts.
Duncan gets halfway back to his seat before pausing next to Robby and pointing out the window. “Ohhh, there’s the Scottish Heritage Center. Can we go?” he asks. I look up, not realizing how far out of the city we’ve gotten. We’re making really good time.
“Why?” Fiona asks. “That place is a tourist trap.”
“Hey, this is not a fascist regime,” Duncan jokes. “If I want to go, I get to go.”
“Not when I’m the one driving,” Fiona counters. “Unless you jump out as I speed past. Dinnae forget to tuck and roll.”
“Please?” He changes tactics and tries begging, giving Fiona puppy-dog eyes. “We’d always go there when I was little. They have a Scottish fudge shop inside and a Highland cow you can pet. It’s dead fun.”
“What do you guys think?” Fiona asks the rest of us.
“I’d like to pet a Highland cow,” Asha says at the same time I respond, “Um, hello, fudge.”
Fiona glances at me. “All right. Just a short stop.”
We pull into the heritage center parking lot. There’s a main building with shopping, and then off to the side is a pen with sheep and cows, a little petting zoo for kids. Highland cows are pretty funny looking. They’re big and orange and shaggy.
I get out of the van and s
tretch my legs.
“So,” Asha asks me, “fudge or cow?”
“First, what a strange decision to have to make. Second, have you met me?”
“Fudge it is, then.” Asha grabs Duncan’s hand and leads the way inside the building. I turn, only to bump into Robby, who is standing inches away.
“Oh, sorry,” I say awkwardly.
“No worries.” He takes my hand. “You’re cold. I’ll buy you a cup of tea.”
I smile up at him.
“Stop making googly eyes at each other,” Fiona shouts from across the parking lot. She’s making a beeline for the petting zoo. “And come pet the animals. I’m not going to be the only one smelling like a barnyard.”
“Okay, first the petting zoo, then the tea,” I say.
“Sounds like a plan.” Robby pulls me close, putting his arm around my shoulder.
Fiona kneels next to a sheep, petting its thick curly hair. The sheep reaches out its long tongue and licks Fiona’s face, managing to chomp on some of her hair as well. Fiona screeches.
“Um…a little help, please,” she begs from where she’s crouched. “I’d like to get out of this without a bald spot….”
I buy some feed from the keeper, who is laughing at Fiona’s antics instead of trying to help her, and distract the sheep with it.
“How did that even happen?” I ask, laughing at her look of disgust as she combs her fingers through her slobbered-on hair.
“That cute-and-cuddly is a bloody act. That thing is a menace.”
I look to the sheep, staring at us with big brown eyes. “Yeah, clearly it’s evil.”
“Let’s go get some fudge and tea,” Robby says with a wink in my direction.
“Oh, I could murder a cup of tea,” Fiona says.
We make our way to the main building, and I put my hand on Fiona’s shoulder. “You know, you remind me of my sister.”
She looks at me. “Heather, if you had a sister, I think I would know about it.”
“I guess I meant you’re like a sister to me.” A weird feeling suddenly hits me, and I feel the urge to cut. I swallow. “Why don’t you go ahead and find Asha and Duncan. I’m gonna head to the restroom.”
I hurry to the bathroom, only to find Fiona has trailed after me. “I’ve got to get this sheep spit out of my hair,” she tells me, heading to the sink. She looks at me in the mirror. “You really dinnae look very well.”
Bad Blood Page 11
