She had the story wrong, thought Julia. Hugh would never scare anyone. And besides, he wasn’t a colonial. Hugh McNamara was loyal to the gods and to the gods alone. “I’ll pay cash,” she said. “I want the closing date set as soon as possible.”
“The ghost really doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“No. He doesn’t.”
Julia turned around, walked past the realtor and made her way back to her car. She abandoned Hugh once before, she didn’t intend to do so again.
* * *
The refreshing scent of a sun-kissed field teased his nose and beckoned his soul. A joke, thought Hugh; nothing more than a cruel, painful joke. He ignored the call. Life was no longer his to enjoy.
The irony of the matter made him laugh. An immortal witch stripped of his immortality. The thought brought to mind his sordid vision of Fate sitting at her wheel, mocking him, laughing at him. He hated being trapped in time, faring no better than a mere ghost. He wasn’t born to linger on the ethereal plane like gods of old—watching man, observing man. No. Hugh McNamara had a zest for life, and a zest for living that life while his soul rested in a body of substance. This ghost business was not for him in the least bit.
The intoxicating scent returned.
Fate taunted him yet again and he didn’t like it. The tantalizing fragrance that invaded his space grew stronger, and left him with a yearning for more. He gave in to Fate’s little joke. Being a good sport, Hugh took a deep breath and filled his lungs to the point of bursting. In his mind, he mentally dissected the perfume’s fragrant notes. Lavender—English lavender. The familiar scent stirred his heart in a way it had not been touched for centuries. And much to Hugh McNamara’s displeasure, it also jarred his memory.
He woke on the instant. Rising from his ethereal captivity, Hugh focused his energy and pushed his soul and ethereal body as near to man’s realm as was possible.
He took another deep breath.
He closed his eyes.
There was no mistaking the scent. It was her scent—the scent of Julia, daughter of Danu. Memories of his beloved Irish Fairy Witch came flooding back to him—long black hair, deep violet eyes, soft, alabaster skin, and a body made to warm a man’s bed. His Julia was a goddess if ever he knew one.
He longed to hold her once again, to touch her. Oh, what he would give to caress her soft, flawless skin. To make love to his Julia as he did on many a night in the open fields of the Fairy realm. The passionate longing surprised him. And it hurt him. A dull ache twisted in his heart.
He remembered her betrayal.
He chided himself.
He didn’t need what he could no longer have.
Hugh refused to allow such nonsense to disrupt his peace again. No. He checked his powers and halted the memories. For more than two centuries, he’d suffered. The constant agony of reliving his life’s most tormented moments played out in his mind on a daily basis. And now he had had enough.
No other soul would have made him wait this long.
“Julia.” The name stung his lips like a searing burn.
No other soul would have made him suffer.
The only satisfaction in it all was one fact. Nothing lasts forever— not even the powers of a Fairy Witch. Hugh smiled to himself. Revenge would be sweet, especially after all these years. He had one chance at returning to the mortal world, and one chance only. But to do so, he needed a soul to take his place. He needed a soul to balance the scales in the ethereal plane.
And according to the rules of the Oghma, the only soul who could change places with an immortal witch trapped in time was a soul who could wake the dead. And his once-beloved Julia had just stirred him to life.
Chapter 3
Julia reached for the last of the boxes to be unpacked. She scanned the room and counted the open cartons. For a soul who had lived centuries, she didn’t accumulate much. Then again, she wasn’t the sort to get attached to things. Hugh mattered to her more than anyone, and since his death, she’d found herself roaming aimlessly through life, waiting for the moment she could make good on her centuries-old promise. Inanimate objects seemed to matter little in the bigger scheme of things.
She sorted the remaining boxes and picked up a small carton marked bedroom. She opened the box top. A musty, damp smell teased her nose. Clumps of scrunched-up newspaper sat wrapped around trinkets inside. Julia reached in and withdrew the first item. She unrolled the paper on the night stand. A small gold frame glistened in the lamplight. Hugh stared back at her.
She tried to remember the last time she’d looked at his portrait—a year ago, a century ago? She didn’t remember. Sam had saved her from the fire, pulling her to safety through the secret tunnel. Her life since then was nothing more than blurring memories stitched together by empty fragments of time.
Pain, combined with guilt, tormented her heart. Julia reached for Hugh’s picture. She turned the gold frame toward the window, so it sat away from her view. Hugh deserved a better life than what fate had dealt him. He deserved a better life than what she’d allowed him. Her mother Danu was right. Julia had failed her people and she did so in a most horrible way.
As an immortal Fairy Witch, she had, within her powers, the ability to bestow upon righteous warriors the sacred blessings of her realm. And the Unconquerable McNamara had earned her blessings, but she was too late. Alex beat her to Hugh, and he did so because of her inability to see past his scheme. In a fit of anger, she’d divulged her secret to Alex, telling him Hugh had earned her blessings and he had not.
Those words had cost her dearly. The blessing of Danu was never to be spoken by her kin except when bestowing the sacred gift upon a deserving soul. She had broken a sacred vow, and her powers had been diminished instantly, leaving her vulnerable to Alex’s ability to curse her and take from her whatever he could.
She’d regretted that moment ever since. She should have known better. Alex Caldwell was a cunning Warlock known for being cruel and ruthless.
Julia fell back upon the bed and closed her eyes. For centuries, she lived in self-imposed exile away from the Irish Fairy Witches; away from her mother’s kin. Alex had taken everything from her, even her high powers. She had no one and nothing, save for her memories -a faint vision of the golden-haired Hugh McNamara.
She thanked the gods for the night. The stillness of the dark hours sometimes helped to freeze a moment in time, and allowed the pain to subside temporarily. In dreams she remembered the better memories,
the happier times.
Alone and in silence, Julia drifted to sleep.
A cool, crisp breeze forced its way through the room, pushing open the balcony doors with a deliberate hand. Julia opened her eyes. She knew the faint touch of an immortal’s spirit; there was no mistaking it. Goosebumps dotted her flesh. The hair at the nape of her neck stood on end. Motionless, she remained on the bed, waiting for her night visitor to materialize. A dark shadow emerged from the night’s breath and stood at the foot of her bed. Slowly, the murky looking figure took on a defined form.
First came the body—rugged, hard, a frame built of sinewy muscle. Then came the face—a square jaw line, thick, wispy golden-brown hair, and large hazel eyes. There was no mistaking her visitor, thought Julia. He returned to her, as he usually did, to torment her, tease her, play with her mind.
“Hugh McNamara,” said Julia. To her amazement, she whispered the name with ease. An odd sense of comfort filled her soul.
He offered her a seductive gaze, his eyes traveling the length of her body. “You’ve kept me waiting a long time, Julia. ” A faint, yet deliberate smile edged his lips. “Centuries.”
She didn’t move.
A cold, ghostly hand reached out for her, and tugged at the silk sheets.
The soft caress of fine fabric skimmed her body. She remembered the moments of stolen passion she’d shared with Hugh. Moments now lost forever.
Julia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Cold, moon-kissed air enveloped her flesh. The wei
ght of Hugh’s body fell across her like a warm, heavy blanket. The tender touch of his hand cradled her cheek.
“Come back to me, Julia.” He whispered in a seductive tone, his voice soft like velvet.
A searing kiss scorched her neck.
“Help me.”
A sudden panic filled her soul. Alex Caldwell’s evil laugh echoed in her ears...
Julia woke in a pool of sweat. Her cotton nightshirt stuck to her body like a tight glove. She swallowed hard. Nightmares and the realm of dreams were once her forte, but it had been years since she’d last worked in that field.
A loud crash echoed from downstairs. The house shook as if it were suddenly falling apart. In fear, Julia rose from her bed and made her way into the hallway. She headed down the stairs at lightning speed, her feet skittish against the bare wood. Sounds of breaking timber emanated from the room to the right of the main hall. At the bottom of the steps, she froze.
Cautious of what she might find, Julia stepped off the stairs and held her breath. She approached the living room in silence, fearful of stirring the night’s spirits. The room was dark, void of any visible activity. She bit her bottom lip and entered the living room.
Nothing.
She let out a deep breath and began to breath evenly again. Just her imagination, she told herself. Nothing more than her overly vivid imagination. Or was it? Julia eyed her surroundings. She recalled the original layout of the tavern in 1778. If memory served her right, the main staircase would have been were the living room stood today.
She reached for a lamp on one of the end tables and flicked on the light. A secretary sat to her left. Julia walked over to the large wood cabinet and tugged at the top drawer. It opened with a creak. Scattered papers fell to the floor. She bent down and retrieved a sealed, cardboard tube.
Julia opened the container and pulled out the contents. A rough sketch of the original floor plan sat paper clipped to a copy of new blueprints. She scanned the two sets for comparisons in design. Her memory had served her well. The present living room had been built on top of the tavern’s main hall. The sudden realization sent her stomach twisting in knots. She opened her hands and dropped the plans.
This was the room where Hugh died.
A sunken feeling gnawed at her soul. “Help me.” The words from her dream came back to haunt her once more. Hugh didn’t rest in peace and she needed to find a way to solve his dilemma. But she couldn’t do it alone.
Julia walked back into the hall and reached for her cell phone sitting on the marble center table. She turned on the phone, hit the automatic dial button and waited.
“Hello.” A craggy, sleep-dazed voice answered her call.
“Samuel, I need your help.”
“Julia?”
She knew her sudden appearance in Samuel Caldwell’s life wouldn’t be openly welcomed. It never was. “Please, Samuel. I have no time to explain. I just need your help.”
“Where are you?”
She hesitated. Sam Caldwell had risked his life for her and she’d repaid him by slipping away under the cover of night over two centuries ago. Over the years they’d kept in touch, but she’d never once ever mentioned that night or Hugh. “I’m at the tavern,” she said.
He didn’t respond.
“And I’ve found Hugh. I know he’s here.”
“Wait a minute,” said Samuel. “Give me a second to sort this out. I thought you were through with magic.”
“I was. But lately, I’ve had a strong urge to return to the tavern and make sure Hugh rested in peace. I’ve had these dreams, Sam. Dreams I can’t explain. Something’s wrong and I need your help.”
Silence prevailed. Julia knew this wasn’t going to be easy.
“You’re an Irish Fairy Witch,” said Samuel. “I’m only a Warlock’s son. Wouldn’t you be better off going to your mother?”
“No, I can’t.” Her relationship with Sam was in worse shape than she’d thought. “Hugh needs your help. If you won’t do this for me, then do it for Hugh.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you.”
Julia held her breath. “Then you’ll come to the tavern?”
“Look, I can’t make it up there until tomorrow. If you can’t wait, I can’t help.”
“No,” she said. “That’ll be fine. Hugh’s waited this long, another night can’t hurt him.”
“Julia.” Samuel paused.
Julia sensed his apprehension. “Sam? Are you still there, Sam?” “Yeah, I’m still here. Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. The phone went dead on the other end.
Julia leaned against the wall and slowly sank to the floor. When she’d bought the house, she’d expected to come across some remnant of Hugh’s spirit. After all, this was the home he’d loved. He built the tavern with his own hands. The house gave him a sense of satisfaction, a feeling he hadn’t felt since being forced away from his roots. Here he had a chance at a new life.
And she took it all away from him. Hugh McNamara gave her his heart, and in return, she allowed him to perish at the hands of his evil brother, Alex. And if Hugh was still here, then so, too, must be Alex. She’d find a way to make amends, even if it killed her in the process.
* * *
Her dreams invaded his thoughts.
Hugh McNamara woke with a sudden jolt and returned to the portal between man’s world and his. The thin veil was hazy and gray.
He watched her through the darkness. Her words were like silent whispers, sounds cut off by a barrier separating two distinct worlds. Part of him wished he could hear her; the other part didn’t care what she had to say. Julia’s words didn’t matter to him anymore, and neither did the feelings he once had for her.
A whirlwind of emotions tugged at his heart. He stared at her. Even slouched against the wall, Julia tempted him like no other. He had to admit, in all his years, he’d never laid eyes upon a beauty more gracious, more perfect.. .more vivid. Julia was the marvelous work of a god’s detailed perfection.
Pain struck the core of his soul. He closed his eyes. The feel of silken lips caressed his own. The touch of a soft hand cradled his chin. Time was cruel. Hugh opened his eyes and pushed his past memories back; back to stand at a safe distance.
She couldn’t do this to him again.
He walked to the edge of the room and stepped across the marble floor saddle. A shock of electricity zapped through his ethereal body and coursed through his veins. His blood boiled. On the instant, Hugh jumped back. A tingling sensation danced on his skin.
He cursed to himself. His soul was confined to the original hallway. He’d have to focus his energies in a more specific manner to travel through the house. But he didn’t have the desire to do so at present. Waking from a centuries-old sleep was draining enough. He needed more time to use his energy in a skilled manner. And time was all he had.
Soon, he reminded himself. Soon he would be free again to roam man’s world, and revel in its existence. The thought of returning to a real life excited him. He wanted to breathe again, to feel the wind, the rain, the sun against his flesh. Sleep had claimed him for far too long. The notion to want to live again struck his soul in an odd manner. He wondered why he hadn’t wakened sooner.
A slight touch of heat warmed his heart.
He turned back to the hall.
She was leaving him.
Julia rose from the floor and headed toward the stairs. Her long, slender legs moved gracefully across the carpet. Her perfectly formed feet barely touched the floor.
She walks like an angel, like she always did.
Hugh watched as Julia made her way up the stairway and turned the corner. She faded from his sight.
A sudden realization hit him. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he still loved Julia.
Ridiculous. How could he love a woman who’d left him to spend eternity trapped in time? Who’d betrayed him with his own brother? Besides, love was no longer his to gi
ve or to receive. Ghosts couldn’t love in the tangible way.
Ridiculous.
Hugh stepped back and re-entered the ethereal plane.
Chapter 4
Julia walked along the flower path winding behind the house. Rows of French lavender bushes swayed leisurely in the soft wind, and colored the garden with a light touch of purple and green. She ran her hands along the soft buds. The lavender growing at the inn reminded her of the gardens of her mother’s castle Dun Danu. Danu had a passion for the wild fragrance. Julia missed her mother.
She clipped several stalks to bring inside the house to dry.
Hugh had loved the gardens at Dun Danu. And he loved her lavender perfume. The striking color of the flower reminded her of times past. Julia gathered the cut bunch of stalks and tied them with a deep purple ribbon. If the past were as easy to capture, she’d have long ago gathered the remnants of time and kept them hidden away for all eternity. But life didn’t work that way.
She closed her eyes.
The soft touch of a hand caressed her arm. She smiled to herself.
Hugh used to love to walk with her through the castle gardens.
Visions of days past came flooding back to haunt her.
A whispered breath tickled her ear.
She opened her eyes.
“Hugh?”
The whisper didn’t come from a vision. Something stirred her space in the here and now.
A shadow emerged from the rows of lavender and approached her.
Julia stepped back. “Is that you, Hugh?”
The misty form settled into a more defined outline—tall, muscular, and with an aura of immortal power.
There was no mistaking Hugh McNamara, thought Julia, even in ghost form.
Dressed in an ancient Druid’s cape, the man she loved more than life itself reached out to her, his hand motioning for her to come closer.
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