The cheese didn’t have a distinct flavor. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t anything she’d crave.
“Here, try another,” Margareta said, leaning over to put a giant glob on a cracker. “Really experience the full flavor.”
Jennifer reached for the cracker, wanting to be polite to Rory’s family. She stepped back to keep them from giving her a third one. She swallowed and started to lift the second hors d’oeuvre. Her mouth went numb like she’d been given a shot of Novocain.
Jennifer looked at the loaded cracker she held. Dark liquid dripped from her mouth onto the back of her wrist. She instantly touched her lips. Her fingers slipped in what felt like blood, and she pulled her hand back to look. Thick black coated her fingertips. Her hand shook violently.
She dropped the cracker onto the floor and reached to touch her mouth with her other hand, as if that would change the result. When she drew her fingers back, they were smeared with dark fibrous chunks.
Jennifer’s eyes widened as she glanced at Rory. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he said. Margareta frowned at her. Cait pointed at her face.
She turned in fear, only to catch her reflection in the windowpane. Black dripped out her eyes like tears. Her mouth filled with numbed pressure, and it became hard to breathe.
“Ma tell me ya didn’t try to make that thing yourself. Not for company!” Rory’s panicked voice sounded far away and came beneath the buzzing in her ears. “What did ya put in the recipe?”
Jennifer bent forward and coughed. Rory patted her back. A muddy clump dropped past her lips into her hands. She gasped for breath. It slid off her shaking hand onto the floor.
What the hell?
How were they not reacting to this? Didn’t they see she was throwing up mud?
“Ror…” His name barely made it past her lips as she swayed and stumbled her way out of the dining room door.
“Where are ya going, dear?” Cait asked.
Jennifer tripped over the threshold and landed on her hands and knees on the hard marble of the foyer. Pain radiated up from her knees and wrists. She coughed again, spewing the dark clumps over the clean floor.
“There you are.”
The voice had returned.
Desperate, she crawled toward the door to escape. The pressure spread from her mouth to her throat and she tried to gasp for a breath that wouldn’t come.
“Jennifer?”
Snap. Snap.
“Jennifer?”
Snap.
Jennifer gasped a high-pitched sound as she reached for her throat.
Cait leaned close to her face.
Margareta dropped her hand from where she’d been snapping her fingers beside Jennifer’s ear.
“There ya are, dear.” Cait smiled. “Welcome back. Ya gave us quite a scare.”
There you are.
The terrifying voice whispered through her mind.
Jennifer pushed up in her cushioned chair. The furniture’s feet slid from the force of her movement, making a loud noise against the rug.
Rory came from behind her as if to steady her. He held her by the back of her elbow. “Try to take it easy.”
Jennifer looked around in confusion. Books lined a wall of dark shelves. Curtains covered a large window. Light came from a couple of table lamps. The green glass panels of the shade casting patterns on the ceiling.
Margareta and Cait stood watching her, heads tilted to the side ever so slightly, with matching pod-people expressions. She expected alien heads or robot parts to spring past their plastered smiles at any moment.
“How did I get in here?” Jennifer asked. Then, remembering her numb mouth, she frowned. “What did you dose me with?”
“Dose?” Margareta gave a weak laugh.
“Ya fainted, dear,” Cait said.
Jennifer pulled her hand from Rory. “I’m not an idiot. What was in that cheese?”
“Herbs,” Cait said.
“Spices,” Margareta added.
“Ma, Aunt Margareta, stop,” Rory ordered.
“Rory don’t cause a scene,” Cait said to her son, her teeth gritting just enough to cause her fake smile to falter.
“Are ya allergic to—?” Margareta began, trying to act all innocent.
“Bullshit?” Jennifer quipped.
Margareta gasped a little at her bluntness.
“Yeah, Margareta, I am allergic to bullshit. Thanks for asking.” Jennifer jerked her arm from Rory. “I’m leaving. Can’t say it was a pleasure to meet either of you.”
Jennifer felt her rage mounting. It was all she could do to keep the anger at bay next to Rory but faced by whatever roofie Cait and Margareta had slipped into her food; it came pouring out of her. Her limbs trembled, and she knew if she didn’t get out of there fast, she’d do something she regretted.
“Wait,” Cait tried to protest.
“Jennifer,” Margareta said as if to call her back.
Jennifer heard footsteps following her and walked faster. She didn’t know where she was going, but she found herself in the front hall next to the giant staircase when she left the library.
“Jennifer,” Rory called, following her.
She walked faster toward the front door.
“Jennifer,” he insisted.
“What’s happening?” a voice called from above.
“Not now, Euann,” Rory said.
“Ah, did ya mess it up with her already?” Euann teased with a laugh. “I think that’s a world record, even for ya, cousin.”
“Shut up, Euann!” Rory insisted. “Not now, Ma. Ya have done enough damage.”
Jennifer tried to jerk the front door open, and her hand slipped off the knob. She wasn’t in the mood for teasing or talking or this freaking door. She grabbed the knob with both hands, but it wouldn’t budge. In anger, she shook it violently. “Let me out of here!”
“Rory, what happened?” Euann’s voice became concerned.
Rory appeared beside her. She jerked away from him. He lifted his hands, fingers spread to show he meant no harm as he slowly reached past her to turn the deadbolt lock on the door. He then pulled the knob to open it for her.
Jennifer rushed out of the house. Her heart beat faster. She didn’t think past the need to get away from the mansion. She ran past Rory’s car and headed down the driveway.
“Jennifer, wait, I can give ya a ride wherever ya want to go. Don’t leave like this.” Rory called after her. “Please, just take a breath and try to calm down. I can explain.”
“Calm down?” She stumbled and caught herself before turning to face him as he came after her. “Calm down! You know, Rory, all women know not to leave a drink unattended at a bar. It’s one of the sad realities of being female. We open our own drinks, even water bottles, or watch it being made for fear someone will slip us a Mickey. I know how to live on my own as a woman and protect myself, but apparently, I missed the lesson on not taking cheese from strangers.”
“Slipped a mickey?” He started to shake his head in denial.
“Slip a mickey, roofie, Mickey Finn, micked, knock-out drops, GHB, Rohypnol, Ketamine, LSD, what-ever-the-fuck—” she yelled.
“I can explain,” he tried to insert.
“—they put into that food,” she continued, pointing angrily toward the mansion. “You know they did. They didn’t want you eating it but were super high-pressure that I should try it. There is no satisfying explanation for that. I’m going to the police. I’m going to make them give me a blood test. You can’t treat people like this. I don’t care if you are rich and live in a castle.”
“They were trying to help ya purge,” he said.
Purge? What the hell?
“Purge what? My insides? My sanity?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of crap you’re used to getting away with, but—”
“Purge evil intent.” He tried to reach for her.
“Evil? Are you fucking kidding me?” she cried. The release of outrage felt great, like a dam had brok
en free on her feelings, and all the pent-up emotions came out on her like a churning lava-fueled river.
“I know ya don’t want to hear it right now, and I don’t blame ya for being mad, but their hearts were in the right place. It…it backfired a little. Please, I can explain this better. Give me a chance to—”
“You’re right. I don’t want to hear it,” Jennifer denied. She resumed her escape down the long driveway. The lights from town called her like a beacon, giving her context to where she needed to go. “If I require some kind of spiritual evil-purging journey, I’ll find a qualified shaman, not a freaking football party rubbery cheese ball—that wasn’t even all that amazing, to be honest.”
Actually, a shaman might not be a bad idea. Or psychic ghost-hunter. Someone to stop the creepy voice from following her around. A shrink?
“Jennifer, stop, there’s so much that ya don’t understand yet,” Rory said. “Things I didn’t want to have to tell ya if I was wrong. Things I couldn’t tell ya because…because some secrets have to be kept to protect my family.”
Jennifer skidded to a stop and took a deep breath. Light flashed behind her and cast her shadow on the ground, haloed in soft blue glow. She assumed he had his phone flashlight app shining for them.
“What secrets?” She turned to face him again.
Rory stood with his hand held out. The soft blue glow came from his palm. She’d assumed it was his phone, but as the light radiated from a sphere, she stared into it.
“Glowing fingers,” she whispered, pointing as if he’d need clarification for what she saw. Her hand shook. “I saw glowing…”
She took a backward step down the incline of the drive, then another.
“There you are,” she whispered.
“It’s a big secret I need to tell ya,” Rory said. “But the simplest way is for me to show ya that magick is real. I’m a warlock. All MacGregors are warlocks.”
What he was saying was ridiculous, of course. Warlocks? Magick? And yet, his hand glowed.
He bounced the ball of light between his hands before making a fist and extinguishing it. He lifted his hands, showing her the backs and fronts. They were empty.
The rage inside her centered itself in her chest, burning. Her breathing deepened.
The light returned to both hands, snaking from his fingers to his wrists, circling them like bracelets.
“There you are.” The words passed her lips louder than before.
The ball of rage spread like flames down her arm, tingling her fingers. She lifted her hand to find she gripped a knife.
“Whoa.” Rory started to lift his hands, but the magick glow became brighter on his wrists. The two light streams snaked toward the ground, pulling him to his knees like two shackles staked to the earth.
A feeling whispered inside of her, urging her to act without reason.
“There you are,” she said. The words felt like a spell, winding through her. If she would only do what it wanted, it would leave her alone. She’d be safe.
Safe from harm.
Safe from Rory.
Safe from magick.
Safe.
The anger made it easy to strike. She felt the blade. All it needed was a small swing, and the sharp edge would do the rest.
“Jennifer, ya don’t have to do this,” Rory pleaded. He struggled against the magick holding him down.
Jennifer saw her arm moving, felt the knife jerk as the blade caught in his neck. Blood came from the wound, spraying over her. Rory’s mouth opened, and his eyes met hers as if surprised she’d done it.
No!
This wasn’t what she wanted. She wasn’t a killer.
Jennifer blinked only to find he was still in front of her. The blood was gone, and the murderous urge had not yet played itself out. Rory was safe.
She blinked again, and he was on the ground, the magick on his wrists fading as blood pooled. Time made no sense. The pieces were scattered like a jigsaw puzzle someone threw on the floor.
Blink. He pleaded with her to stop.
Blink. Screams came from the house. His mother cried out in agony for her dying son. She and Margareta charged across the yard.
Blink. Rory was telling her he was a warlock. The magick had yet to bind him to the ground.
Blink. She swung her arm to kill him.
Blink. Trees passed her as she ran in the forest with bloodstained hands. Magick balls flew past her head as Cait and Margareta tried to capture her.
Blink. She was back in front of Rory.
Blink. He was dead.
Blink. He lived.
Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink…
The rage inside her erupted, urging her to get it over with, promising in some innate way that if she killed him, it all would stop.
She waited for the right piece of time to appear and finally found him kneeling with his magickal restraints. Jennifer forced her eyes to remain open, not letting go of the moment.
“Jennifer, please, listen to me. Ya can control the urges,” Rory insisted.
“There you are.” It was the only words that would come out of her mouth. Her hand trembled, ready to strike.
“Jennifer…”
“There you are.” She stepped toward him. Every muscle acted as if she had no control.
“Please, I promise, I would never hurt ya,” he said.
“There…” Jennifer tried to bite back the word. She held the knife over her shoulder, arm trembling with the effort it took not to stab forward. She fell to her knees before him. Her eyes burned with the need to blink.
“I don’t know if ya can hear me, but this is what we were trying to stop. Please, let us help ya.” Rory’s eyes searched hers.
Jennifer tried to make herself drop the knife, but her fingers wouldn’t release the hilt. When she was near him, he roused strong emotions. This rage she felt inside of her like an invading entity wasn’t hers. She didn’t hate like this. She felt guilty after squishing spiders. Now she wanted to murder Rory?
She watched his lips move, saying her name. He’d been nothing but kind to her—well, except for the cheese thing. Expelling mud had been disgusting.
“There you are,” she whispered.
Jennifer didn’t want to hurt him.
This wasn’t her.
“There—”
She pressed her mouth to his and cut off her own words. His lips parted in a plea, and it provided for an instantly deeper kiss. The pleasure of fulfilling one of the stronger desires inside of her finally allowed her to release the blade. It dropped from her like a weight, and she reached to hold his face in her palms.
She struggled to keep from blinking, not wanting to erase what was happening.
Rory moaned, leaning into the kiss. His tongue darted past her lips. The pent-up energy needed a place to go, and it made its way into their embrace. She gripped his face tight as if the movements of her mouth could serve as a punishment. Rage and passion. She’d never understood just how linked those two emotions could be until this moment.
Jennifer’s pulse raced. She heard her heart pounding a rhythm in her ears. It deafened her to all else. Everything about him overwhelmed her and captured her attention. She felt the heat of his body, the rough texture of the beard trying to shadow his jaw, the moistness of his mouth, and the tickle of his hair on the backs of her fingers.
When finally her lungs felt as if they would explode, she pulled away to gasp for breath. Sometime during the kiss, she’d forgotten to keep her eyes open, and now that they were closed, she was afraid to look.
“…you are,” she whispered, finishing the words that had been forced from her lips.
He touched her arms, and she gasped, opening her eyes. They kneeled on the driveway. Cobblestones pressed uncomfortably into her knees.
“Jennifer?” Rory’s gaze moved over her face.
“I can’t tell what’s real,” she whispered, unwilling to let go of him. “Tell me, is this happening? Is this real?”
His hands cover
ed hers on his face. “I’m real. This is real.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. Maybe she wasn’t as sane as she thought. A woman could only take so much—intruders, voices, lost time, liquid rage.
“I don’t want to kill you,” she said.
Rory gave a soft laugh. “That’s good to hear, love. I wasn’t too sure there for a moment.”
How could he be smiling and laughing at a time like this? Her emotions were a tattered mess.
“I don’t know where the anger comes from,” she said. “It’s not mine. I don’t hate like this.”
“If it makes ya kiss me like that, I think I like it when ya are mad at me,” Rory answered.
“I’m serious, Rory,” she scolded.
“So am I.” He glanced down. “Feel beneath my kilt if ya don’t believe me.”
Jennifer caught herself automatically glancing down. It was difficult to see any shapes beneath the thick material, but his meaning wasn’t lost on her. He kept her hands against his face, keeping her close to him.
Despite the very prurient interest her body had in taking him up on the offer, her mind concentrated on maintaining a semblance of control. “Do you take anything seriously?”
“Believe me, when it comes to pleasing a woman, I take my duties very seriously.” His voice dipped, and when he looked her over, she felt as if he undressed her with his eyes. It stirred the already rampant desire bubbling inside of her. “And I’m very good at it.”
Damn him.
Just damn him.
“Rory, I’m not joking. Something is wrong with me.” Jennifer tried to pull her hands away from his face. He held her to him a few moments longer but finally released her.
“The only thing wrong is that for someone or something is using bad magick on ya, forcing ya to do things. It’s not your fault,” Rory said. “And I promise we’re going to stop it. I won’t let anyone or anything hurt ya.”
Jennifer slowly stood. She eyed the knife on the ground and stepped several paces away from it. “Raibeart was in the woods. He had magick on his hands like you did. He hit me with it to stop me.”
“Yes.” Rory nodded. “To save me.”
“That’s why you didn’t bring me to a doctor.”
A Dash of Destiny (Warlocks MacGregor Book 8) Page 9
