Spellbound

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I do not need the family-responsibility speech. I know no one wants the chore of house shopping for the entire clan again, but there are other places. Ma didn’t need to drain her energy divining the future,” Euann said. “If Green Vallis doesn’t feel safe, we move again.”

  Iain was also worried about their ma, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Ma probably looked ahead more than was necessary. Lydia is going to be her first daughter-in-law.” Lydia might be able to borrow Erik’s magick, but she didn’t possess any of her own. This had caused some reason for concern within the clan. Until Lydia had absorbed enough of Erik to make her one of them, she was considered fragile. “I’m sure Ma just wanted to make sure the woman was safe from future threats against her life. Between the lidércs’ supernatural attack and her mortal stalker—”

  “I know all that,” Euann quipped.

  “Untwist your panties, little lady,” Iain said as he eyed his brother. “No reason to be all moody. The aunts will take care of our ma, and she’ll regain her strength soon.”

  Euann nodded.

  “Good. Now let’s go down to the pub and meet the townsfolk,” Iain said.

  “Bar,” Euann corrected, just to be contrary.

  “Let’s go down to the pub before I hit ya with a bar,” Iain said, forcing himself not to follow his mystery woman.

  Euann walked with him, but he didn’t let the conversation drop. “We’ve already encountered threats here and we’re not even settled.”

  Iain didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Every MacGregor understood what was at stake. They lived for centuries because they had learned to adapt and control their environments.

  “Maybe it’s a sign we should move on. Erik scouted the location. Maybe his senses were off because he met his fíorghrá. He wants this to be the right place for us because this is where Lydia is.”

  “Since when do ya run from potential danger?” Iain didn’t want to leave Wisconsin. He felt the power around them. This town was special. He wasn’t sure how, but he knew that it was. “Such is the way with places of great power—all sorts of people, both good and bad, will be drawn here. Most won’t even know why they decide to stop and put down roots.”

  “That’s easy for ya to say. Your job is making sure we have trees.” Euann glanced around the forest already full of life. “I’m the one who has to figure out the right security. I’m going to need at least fifty cameras to cover the woods.”

  Iain let loose a long sigh. Euann had centuries of tried-and-true warlock magick at his fingertips, and he persisted in playing with mortal technology. “Not again. Use the clan magick, brother. We don’t need more footage of the elders running naked through the woods.”

  “I told everyone not to put the tapes in the security VCR. They were triggered to record off of motion sensors. It’s not my fault the golf footage was replaced by the naked three-mile dash.”

  “It was the 80th US Open. I maintain ya did it on purpose.”

  “My point exactly. Only the eightieth. Eighty years is hardly anything. I’d understand the family holding a grudge for the last thirty-odd years if it was the 500th. Besides, it’s golf. Man hits little ball into hole. The end.”

  “How are ya even related to us?” Iain shook his head with an expression of mock wonder.

  “If ya want to see the game so badly, do an internet search. I’m sure it’s on there.”

  “Ah, the internet is just a passing fad with the youngsters,” Iain teased. “Soon we’ll be back to gas lamps and horse power as nature intended.”

  “Says the man who buys the newest smartphone every six months,” Euann countered.

  “What can I say, I like downloading funny animal pictures,” Iain defended. In truth, he kept breaking and losing them.

  The walk into downtown Green Vallis briefly reminded Iain of what it felt like coming into the burghs of his youth. Though these buildings were red brick, not imposing gray-stone townhouses with slate roofs, there was a similar feel to the long main street lined with tall buildings pressed together. The fresh air and the sound of Scottish voices shouting over a noisy crowd awakened a deep memory of simpler times. He paused, closing his eyes as he listened to Euann’s steps moving away from him.

  An ache filled him, one he didn’t let himself feel too often. Sometimes, he wished time would stand still and be quiet. When you had a life expectancy of hundreds upon hundreds of years, human life became fleeting in comparison. It wasn’t just losing mortal friends. It was the customs, technology, fashion, architecture, everything. Existence was ever changing and fluid. Maybe that was why he liked plants. Their evolution seemed slow compared to society.

  A breeze stirred around him, lifting his kilt and dropping it against his legs. He focused his hearing on Euann first, then the crowd, the creak of a door, the jingle of a bell. Next, he searched for a sign of the woman, but he could not determine her whereabouts.

  Smiling slowly, he opened his eyes. Something about Jane reminded him of his youth. It had been a long time since he’d been captured by a mystery. He had time to unravel this one. Green Vallis was a small town. Jane couldn’t hide from him for too long.

  Chapter 4

  “Idiot.” Jane scolded herself. “You had one of the MacGregors right there, willing to talk to you, and you could have at least tried to act normal and land yourself a decent paying job. So what if he’s handsome. You shouldn’t hold that against him. You’re not trying to date him. You only want to get your hands on his gardens. You’re trying to get paid.”

  A tiny voice in her head that she couldn’t seem to control answered, You want to get your hands on his garden? Is that what Scotsmen are carrying under their kilts these days?

  She paused, glancing behind her while contemplating if she could turn around and accept the offer for a drink. “Oh, shut up, brain. Now I’m the crazy lady talking to herself again.”

  There was no graceful way to resume a conversation with Iain, so she continued down the hill. Besides, Iain was definitely not the MacGregor she wanted to do business with. The sound of his voice had turned her insides to mush and made her hallucinate being in a Scottish field.

  The hallucination worried her, but it didn’t frighten her as it would have most people. She was living on borrowed time as it was. The doctors had warned her there would be symptoms as her body deteriorated. They’d given her a year to live, even though they couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong with her. She’d well surpassed that prognosis.

  “Dammit, Jane,” she swore as she thought of the man’s alluring smile. The last thing Jane needed in her life was complications. “Stupid. Stupid. Stu—”

  Jane stiffened as goose bumps washed over her. Trying not to react, she forced her feet to keep moving. She hoped the ghosts from Lydia’s house hadn’t followed her. Why did she have to look directly at them?

  “Stupid.”

  Just because she could glimpse through the veil, didn’t mean she wanted to. If she ignored the spirits, they would go away, as long as they didn’t suspect she could see them. Jane walked faster, hoping it was a residual haunting who wouldn’t know she passed. Residual spirits just replayed the same scene from their life, repeatedly, unaware of what they’d become and of the people who passed by them.

  Jane wasn’t so lucky. The chill followed her as she strayed off her direct path. She’d stumbled upon what was called an intelligent haunting, a ghost that was aware. Sometimes, spirits followed people around when they were bored. Though ghosts were normally locked to a location and couldn’t move about too freely, there were some who figured out how to break out of their boundaries. Jane imagined that, for them, watching the living was much like having their own personal reality television show. It was time for her current undead stalker to change the channel. If she was boring enough, the ghost would lose interest and flutter away.

  Bagpipes. Ghosts. Hallucinations. Walking fantasy in a kilt. Jane didn’t need this. All she wanted to do was keep her head down, work hard enough to
run her nursery, and that’s it. The end. She didn’t have any grand aspirations beyond that. Work was honest. Loneliness was safe. And when the time came, she wouldn’t leave anyone to grieve her.

  She turned again, correcting her course toward the nursery. The chill stayed with her, keeping pace. She lowered her eyes and walked faster. Why wouldn’t it leave?

  “We know a secret,” a voice whispered in her ear, startlingly loud.

  Jane jolted in surprise. The ghost giggled, having caught her reaction. She turned to face the apparition, but it faded before she could get a good look at it. A steak of darkness ran away from her and disappeared completely.

  “Stupid,” Jane berated herself. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

  * * *

  “Little Jane, there you are, dear. Did you think you could outrun your fate forever?”

  Seeing Jane try to avoid a couple of child ghosts was quite amusing to the bean nighe as she watched from her perch in a tree. A feeling of relief and excitement came over the old being. In all her imagining, she never would have guessed Jane had ended up in Wisconsin. But this place would do as well as any other. She wondered how Jane had managed to heal herself so well, but it didn’t matter. Soon, the bean nighe would feed.

  “Come here, children,” the bean nighe whispered. Instantly, the two ghosts blurred and came toward her as commanded. They materialized from their dark shadows to stand as the perfect vision of innocence. White matching dresses with blue stripe trim encased pale, translucent skin. Their petticoat skirts fell to their knees to reveal ankle-high boots. Sweet smiles and cherub cheeks belied the mischief in their little brown eyes. Dark blonde ringlets framed their faces in large curls. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

  One of the girls’ smiles widened, and she glanced at her twin. They didn’t speak.

  The bean nighe hoped down from her perch. The girls dissipated before the creature landed on them and reappeared, holding hands, a few feet away.

  “Why do you follow her?” the bean nighe asked.

  In a singsong voice, one girl answered, “She is on borrowed time. Soon, she will be sleeping fine.”

  Laughing the old creature nodded. “Come, children. Show me where you live. I can see it takes a lot of energy for you to be out here, and I think we have much to discuss.”

  The other girl warned in the same eerie tune, “We’re not bound anymore. We’re not leaving like before.”

  “Oh, my little darlings,” the bean nighe said, “I wouldn’t dream of sending you away.”

  They giggled in response and began to run across the clearing, fading into nothingness.

  Chapter 5

  “Brilliant!” Malina laughed and clapped her hands. Even though she carried an English accent, she was a MacGregor. Like all the MacGregors, she had dark hair and eyes, but since Euann had tampered with her shampoo, her hair currently had streaks of silvery white in it. Until the prank spell wore off, she’d be coloring her hair dark every morning to hide the reemerging gray.

  Iain ignored his sister as he focused on the bar napkin he’d magickally formed into a little swordsman. His paper champion wielded a green plastic cocktail pick sword at his cousin Rory’s little soldier.

  “Get him,” Malina ordered quietly though neither combatant knew who she cheered for.

  The MacGregor men were overprotective of Malina. She hated it. Rory and Iain had boxed her in at a table along the wall of the bar as an unnecessary precaution. If any male wanted to talk to Malina, they’d have a whole clan to get through first.

  Iain’s swordsman slashed the weapon over his opponent’s napkin stomach.

  “Hey, no fair, bird boy,” Rory protested. “Ya should stick to feathers and flying because ya can’t swing your weapon like that. It’s clear that is no Viking broadsword. Have a little respect for the art of swordplay.”

  “Ya are just mad my guy is winning,” Iain whispered in return.

  “I am—” Rory’s protest was cut off as Malina slammed her palm down on the napkin warriors.

  “Incoming.” She swiped her hand to the side and wadded the evidence of their play as an elderly gentleman came up behind them to thank them for the free drinks. The bar wasn’t anything special. It smelled of old beer and dust and had wood paneling on the walls. There were the requisite pool table and dartboard, bad neon-lit signs and beer flyers on each table. Yet, for what it was—a bar in a small town—it served its purpose.

  When the man left, Euann joined them and slapped Iain on the shoulder. To Malina, he said, “Hey, old lady, did Iain tell ya about his new girlie-friend?”

  Malina arched a brow and unconsciously touched her gray-streaked hair. “Oh, paybacks are coming, brother, trust in that.”

  Euann laughed, unconcerned. Over the centuries, boredom often led to familial pranks. This wasn’t the first, and it wouldn’t be the last. In fact, Malina might bide her time for the next one, waiting a hundred years for the perfect revenge.

  “I don’t have a girlie-friend,” Iain grumbled. He made his crushed swordsman crawl wounded toward Malina for help before doing a couple of death quivers.

  Malina plucked the umbrella pick out of her drink and bit off the pineapple chunk before conjuring a paper lady in a Victorian gown. She handed the lady the umbrella and made her walk, hips swaying, toward Iain. He swiped his hand in the air to knock the napkin lady over. Malina made a small noise of affront before magickally standing the woman back up and having her stab Iain in the back of his hand with the sharp end of the umbrella.

  “Ow.” Iain snatched his hand away before crushing the moving sculpture beneath his flat hand and wadding it in his fist.

  “So barbaric.” Malina chuckled. “And that’s why you will never have a girlfriend.”

  “Better a Scottish barbarian than an English rose,” Iain teased.

  The North Berwick witch trials had made it a necessity to get Malina out of Scotland when she was born. She’d been raised in England and, though hundreds of years had passed since her birth, she still carried the British ways—unless she was mad. Malina had a fierce temper, and when it flared her Scottish accent came flying out. “Better a rose than a pain in my ars—”

  “So what’s this about a girlie-friend?” Rory interrupted.

  “Iain tried to talk to a chick.” Euann laughed. “It did not go well. She ran away from him practically screaming in fear.”

  Rory gave Iain a mournful look. “Well, Iain, what did ya expect? Ya are not a pretty man.”

  “I tried to tell him,” Euann said.

  “Enough. A man does not have to take this abuse. I’m going for a walk.” Iain finished his dirty vodka martini and set the glass down. With the mention of his mystery woman, he found he wanted to find her. There was something about her that called to him.

  “Aw, we’re just teasing,” Euann called as Iain walked out the door. Laughter followed the statement. Iain wasn’t insulted by his family’s joking.

  With all the private residences, businesses, parks and streets in Green Vallis, Iain wasn’t sure how he’d find her. Logically, he wouldn’t. It was a good thing he didn’t have to rely solely on logic. Taking a deep breath, he let instinct guide him. Magick would lead him where he wanted to go. He cleared his mind and just let his feet wander.

  Chapter 6

  “Hello?”

  Jane whipped her head up and stiffened at the male voice. On instinct, she looked for a place to hide. Since she was outside, she couldn’t really crawl underneath a tomato plant.

  “Janey?”

  Slowly, she looked behind her. “Sean. How did you…? What are you…?”

  The last time she’d seen her stepbrother was at her father’s funeral. They’d never been very close. He was older than her though to look at his perfectly chiseled face one would never guess. He had the kind of features that looked early twenties, not forties. As a teenager, he’d been athletic and beautiful. Jane had been sickly and underweight. There was an easy charm to Sean’s smile a
nd manners that made him instantly likable. At first, Jane had been very fond of him. He’d been nice to her. That was before she’d learned the hard lessons of human nature. His niceness was a façade, and she’d mistaken it as caring.

  Now, seeing his white-blond hair and piercing blue eyes left her cold. The same easy smile was there, spread over his face like a mark in time, bringing her back to childhood. Her stomach began to ache, tightening in knots. She remembered what it was like to be too weak to stand up, to be too tired to turn over in bed.

  “Sis!” Sean spread his arms and came toward her. She didn’t move as he hugged her. Confusion set it. Why was he hugging her? What was he doing here?

  “Sean, how did you find me?” Jane leaned away, and he let her go.

  His smile faltered some, but he didn’t let it drop completely.

  “What are you doing here?” She looked over his shoulder. “Is Dana with you?”

  “I’m so sorry, Jane, but I come with bad news. Mother is dead. I tried to find you before she passed, but you’re a hard woman to track down.” Sean paused as if waiting for her words of sympathy.

  “Dana is dead?” Jane tried not to let her relief show. At least her stepmother wasn’t out front waiting in the car.

  “She talked about you a lot at the end. She missed you. We tried very hard to find you.” Sean made his way over to her garden and seemed to study the evenness of the rows. “She was so good to you, you know?”

  “Uh, yes,” Jane whispered. If by good he meant her stepmother always smiled and gave her gifts, then yes, Dana had been good to her. Too bad smiles and new shoes didn’t equal love.

  Dana’s life had been more of a performance for others. She’d been obsessed with presenting the perfect family. When Jane had been at her worst, Dana had insisted on carting her wheelchair around the neighborhood so others could see just how loving of a stepparent she was. Jane had been forced to endure every bone-jarring, painful bump in the sidewalk.