“We’re not supposed to petrify each other anymore. You heard what the elders said.” Malina glanced along the upper landing to make sure no one had detected what had happened.
“I won’t tell if ya won’t,” Rory offered.
“I think they might notice when they get up in the morning.” Malina gestured to the front hall where Euann was noticeable from several vantage points.
“They have yet to bind any of our powers, and they’ve been threatening for centuries,” Rory dismissed. “Ugh, could ya imagine it if they did?”
“Imagine being human?” Malina shook her head. “I used to wish it when I was young and naïve. Now it sounds like a nightmare. Not being able to move traffic when you’re running late? Or what about cleaning everything by hand even if you don’t want to? Having to go to an actual store to buy my clothes?” She shivered. “No thank you.”
“I’m always more worried about not being able to defend myself from a supernatural attack, or not sensing when other supernatural creatures are nearby. Or what if we got sick, like people sick, and had to be put in the hospital at the whims of doctors?” Rory led the way up the stairs, his steps slow. “It’s a wonder humans survive at all.”
A small shiver worked its way over Malina, and she glanced at the front door. Her hand tingled, and she balled it into a fist. “Do you feel that?”
“What? Is it Aunt Margareta?” Rory frowned in worry as he looked around the room. Then, laughing when he didn’t see anyone, he said, “Good one. Ya got me. Made me look.”
Malina managed a small smile as if that had been her intent though it hadn’t. The strange feeling seemed to radiate from outside the door. It wasn’t her brother locked in the trunk that had woken her from her sleep.
“Did you have to leave him naked?” Malina grumbled as they reached the top of the staircase. “That was my favorite robe, and now I’ll have to burn it.”
Rory chuckled. “He insisted. Ya know us warlocks, any reason to take off our clothes.”
“Some things are best left unseen.” Malina lifted her hand to wave good night and turned from him to make her way back to bed.
That night she didn’t sleep as the window drew her back to its cold panes to stare at the moonlit yard. She did not leave it open, liking that the glass separated her from whatever lingered beyond. Shadows moved, stretching and contracting to mark the passing of time.
Euann’s word echoed through her thoughts. “We’re never going to have that, Malina. Ya know that, don’t ya? We’re cursed.”
“Cursed,” she whispered against the glass. Her breath fogged the window, and she traced her fingertip in the shape of a heart through it. When she drew back, she watched as the form took on a life of its own. A streak of moisture ran down the glass, breaking the heart in half. Both sides of the image slid downward before falling onto the floor and dissipating.
She was unsure if it was her magick or some outside force who’d created the illusion.
“Reveal yourself,” she commanded.
The blue lights rose from the Earth as they had before, only this time magick showed a life force standing near the old oak tree on the front lawn. It was too dark to see if it was animal or human, but her hand trembled as it had before. Fear welled inside her, and she forced herself away from the window. Like a coward, she crawled into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and tried not to move. The dark cocoon did not make her feel better.
Chapter 3
The attractive woman in the window called to the darkness within the demon, stirring all the hate and vengeance and anger he’d carried for decades. Finally, he’d found her. This time he was strong enough to fight. This time he wouldn’t be fooled by a pretty face and sweet smile.
Her. The warlock. Malina MacGregor. Fucking bitch.
If he closed his eyes, he could still feel the sensation of being consumed by fire as he clawed his way from the fire realm back to Earth. He held on to that anger and hurt. It had kept him going over the long years.
Oh, but she still had her looks. Time had been very kind to her. The messiness of sleep did not diminish the loveliness of her light brown hair. It was the exact shade he remembered running through his fingers.
No. Dammit it all to hell. He was angry. Not horny. He would not let the temptress win this time.
Dar told himself he wanted to strike, to tear her flesh apart as she walked through snow, to make the white turn red. He wanted to shake her, and scream at her, and make her beg for his forgiveness. She didn’t even bother to hide her powers as she pulled apart a car. Not like when he’d first met her. Then she’d been a cautious little liar, hiding the old magick in her veins and pretending to be something she wasn’t. She’d even faked a British accent.
She’d tricked him, stole his luck, and condemned him to burn.
To strike now would be stupid. All the luck in the universe wouldn’t help him if he went into a house full of warlocks half-cocked. His powers took time, and luckily he had a natural patience for the long game.
Ok, to be honest, he normally had patience. Malina stirred something inside him that made him act crazy and rash. Even after all these years, he wanted nothing more than to go to her and grab her and ask her why and beg and…
Fuck!
No. He must resist her temptations. He would not fall for her spells again. He reminded himself that what he really wanted was to watch her luck sour as a big gust of wind blew her off the side of a building.
Patience is a virtue.
That was what people said. He needed to wait and let his powers do the rest.
Already he could sense her luck turning. Dar wasn’t the only supernatural power stirring in the woods tonight. Other forces were coming to play, and they wanted the MacGregors to suffer worse than he had. They needed to learn they couldn’t get away with what they did. Consequences had actions.
Dar turned his attention to the tree line. Ghosts gathered amongst the branches. The ethereal forms focused on the house as if they’d discovered the cure for death.
A small goblin poked his head out of the ground only to disappear as he burrowed into the earth. The snow melted, and the soil darkened above the foul creature. Tiny fairies were attracted to the mound like flies to manure. The gnarled beings swarmed, an angry horde of stinging pests ready to do some damage.
“We want to play, we want to sin, but those MacGregors won’t let us in.”
Dar glanced down at the two childlike ghosts by his side who had spoken in unison. He saw beyond their sweet ringlet disguises to the small hellions lurking underneath. Lifting his left hand, he lightly patted their heads and watched as his power infused them. “Don’t worry, dolls. I have a feeling your luck is about to change.”
The other apparitions turned their attention toward him. The two spirits giggled and began skipping toward the mansion’s front door. Some of the spectral images flashed violently in their eagerness to play. Others merely floated like benign silk tethered in the breeze.
The sound of the children’s haunting voices drifted over the quiet lawn. “You can’t hide. You can’t seek. You can’t find the will to speak. We’re not bound anymore. We’re not leaving like before.”
The ghosts followed the children, squeezing through the tiniest of holes in the protective barriers the MacGregors had cast. One by one they slowly passed over the lawn toward the mansion as they made their journey to the front door.
Dar smiled at the chaos he’d unleashed and gingerly progressed toward the goblin mound. “Come out and play little friend.” He waited for the goblin to show his face. The fairies scattered up into the night sky only to drift back down as they determined he meant no harm. “Step right up, ladies and ghouls. This round of luck is on me. Get it while it’s hot.”
Chapter 4
Malina kept her eyes averted as she tried to find something nice to say about the tofu, coriander, and goat cheese omelet that Aunt Cait placed before her. The woman looked as if she’d stepped out of 1950’s tel
evision, where homemakers wore dresses and always looked perfect in their cashmere and pearls, whether baking a cake, cleaning the house, or receiving guests in the parlor. Though much older than Malina, Cait could have passed as her sister.
Malina bounced the back of her fork off the eggs a couple of times. “I should get ma. I’m sure she’d want to try this.” As she made a move to stand, and hopefully escape, Cait dashed her hopes of fleeing the scene.
“Your da took her on a much-needed break to Budapest. They found a healer that can help with her regeneration.” Cait motioned to the food. “This one is all yours.”
“The table setting is lovely,” Malina tried to distract Cait’s attention by noting the magazine-like quality of her aunt’s decor. Red and gold leaves coated with fake white snow created a centerpiece. The place settings were delicate bone china with red leaves along the edges.
“Go raibh míle maith agat,” Cait thanked her. “Now eat. I have more in the kitchen if ya want seconds.”
Every few decades Cait decided to try her hand at experimental gourmet cooking—without the aid of her powers. Apparently, this decade was tofu. Last decade had been molecular gastronomy. Malina wasn’t averse to the finer things in life, but each dish had showcased a bubbly pile of what could only be called spittle.
Malina had the misfortune to be the first to walk into the expansive dining room and now sat alone with Cait’s full attention on her. She took a gold napkin and slid it onto her lap, wishing Rory would stumble in as a distraction. When that didn’t happen, she had no recourse but to choke a bite down. “It’s, ah, spongy.”
Cait arched a brow, and the lights began to flicker.
“I mean… unique?” Malina halfheartedly corrected as she gave a meaningful glance to the antique light fixture. The lights flicked harder as if someone turned the switch on and off to create a strobe light effect. “Delicious. I mean delicious.”
“You’re a horrible liar,” Cait scolded. She slid the plate in front of her and used Malina’s fork to try a piece. She sighed heavily. “It does taste like a wet sponge.”
“It had a very nice color,” Malina offered.
“I don’t understand why my food never turns out. I do everything the books say.” Cait tossed the plate over her shoulder and the discarded breakfast, plate and all, disappeared before it hit the ground. “Ya can stop flickering the lights now. I’m not going to make ya eat it.”
Malina frowned. “Me? I’m not doing that. I thought it was you.”
Cait shook her head in denial.
Malina shared a worried look with her aunt. Simultaneously, they turned their attention toward the kitchen. Rushing through the dining room, they were greeted by a floating pot the second they turned the corner. The dirty cooking utensils Cait had used to make her creation stood up from the counter. One by one, they flew through the air—a whisk, a fork, a measuring spoon, and a paring knife. The objects flung violently, hitting the wall next to Malina’s head.
“You enchanted the cookware?” Malina questioned in disbelief, dodging a can opener.
“They weren’t doing that when I left,” Cait insisted. She lifted her hand as if to scold a naughty child. The objects didn’t stop. Malina tried to use her magick to help subdue a toaster oven. The action only appeared to make the appliance mad as its door snapped open and closed. Flour dust began flinging itself into the air. Malina sneezed and backed away.
The sound of footsteps running upstairs reverberated through the ceiling. They moved toward the front staircase only to trip as someone stumbled and fell.
“Ow!” Rory’s cry came from the direction of the foyer.
“Heavens to Betsy, what is happening in this house?” Cait yelled as she led the charge into the front hall. The possessed kitchen appliances and utensils continued their wayward journeys but thankfully didn’t follow them out of the room.
The light fixture in the dining room swung back and forth as if blown by a strong wind but was no longer flickering. Malina tripped on what should have been open walk space. Her body flung forward, barely missing Cait’s back as she crashed into a chair and then fell on the ground. She grabbed her sore foot and turned to see what she’d run into. A car muffler had been left on the dining room floor.
“What the…?” Malina frowned. If she wasn’t mistaken, the soft sound of laughter came from somewhere in the shadows underneath the tabletop.
“Get it off,” Rory yelled in pain. The tone of his voice was distinctive. He wasn’t playing around. “Ow. Stop!”
Malina scrambled to her feet and hurried to help her cousin. She found Cait trying to grab the ends of a flapping blanket as it wrapped itself around Rory’s head and chest. The harder Rory struggled, the tighter the blanket wrapped around him, suffocating him.
“Why have all the inanimate objects in this house gone mad?” Cait asked.
Malina glanced at the stairs to see if maybe Euann was getting revenge for being locked in the trunk. Her brother was still petrified, but his eyes were moving side to side in desperation as if watching something. She came closer to see a fairy’s backside poking out from inside his ear. She pinched the pesky creature and jerked it out, tossing it toward the front door. Euann closed his eyes briefly in thanks. Another fairy poked its head out from a mess of his dark brown hair.
“You’re infested.” Malina flinched, slapping her hand through his hair and down his back, plucking off wayward fairies and tossing them aside. “Why is this happening? Fairies and enchanted objects? This makes no sense.”
“Ach, damn temptresses!” Uncle Raibeart stumbled in from outside. The front door crashed open in his exuberance. He was mostly naked except for a tattered kilt he held around his waist like a towel. Mud smeared his flesh. Though he normally looked a little crazy, he appeared even more so now. He animated his tale with wide, sweeping gestures, and almost dropped his kilt. “Lured me from my bed and had me arse out in the woods thinking it was a bordello. I almost infused Lydia’s tree mom with a wee bit of the ole magick stick if ya ken what I’m sayin’. Thankfully the sun came out and broke the enchantment, or I’d be picking splinters out of some verra bad places. Also, who put the tires on the roof? One nearly blew off and belted me on the head. The ladies of the house aren’t going to appreciate that decorating choice.”
“Raibeart, help me,” Cait demanded. “The blanket is trying to kill Rory.”
“What’s this?” Raibeart looked around at his family, slowly registering the surrounding chaos. “Aw, now, who let the ghosts in?”
“Ghosts?” Malina swatted her hands in the air as the discarded fairies tried to attack her instead.
“Aye, ghosts,” Raibeart motioned toward the blanket holding Rory down. “Two there.” He gestured up the stairs. “Some there.” He pointed toward the dining room. “There.”
“I can’t see anything.” Malina looked around but detected no spirits.
Raibeart began mumbling an old incantation in Gaelic before adding, “Into the attic where ghost guests stay.”
Almost instantly the chaos stopped, except for the fairies. However, when the creatures saw the distractions had left and all the MacGregors focused attention on them, they made a beeline for the dining room to hide.
“What was that about?” Cait unwrapped Rory and helped him to his feet.
Malina searched her brother’s hair for any residual pests. Rattles and thumps sounded above them. “Why did you send them to the attic?”
“Where else would ya have me put them? Your room?” Raibeart snorted.
“I’d have you put them out of the house,” Malina said.
“Were ya not listening? I was practically drained dry by temptress spirits. I didn’t have enough juice to evict that many ghosts,” Raibeart answered.
“How did they get in? I woke up to the blanket being held down over my head and something hitting me with a candlestick.” Rory lifted his arm to show the bruises forming on his ribs. Raibeart tried to poke his finger at the tender flesh
, and Rory slapped him back.
The noises above them grew louder. Cait frowned. “We can’t stay here. Not with everyone gone. If we’re going to get rid of the ghosts, we’ll need more firepower.”
“What do ya mean everyone is gone?” Rory asked.
“Margareta and Angus left for Budapest yesterday. Murdoch is on a meditation retreat and can’t be easily reached. Erik took Lydia to a trade show in Cincinnati. Iain and Jane are communing with nature.”
“Communing?” Rory repeated, with a confused look.
Malina and Cait gave him a pointed expression, waiting for him to catch up.
“They’re rocking the old birlinn,” Raibeart explained. “And when it’s a rockin’, ya better get to sockin’, or else ya will be dockin’ the dinghy.”
“What does that even mean?” Malina asked, before quickly holding up her hand. “No. Never mind. Don’t explain.”
“Birlinn? Wow. Ya are so old,” Rory teased.
“At least I didn’t get attacked by me blankie,” Raibeart retorted.
“What about Niall?” Malina asked Cait. “Is he at his apartment? We can all crash with him while we figure this out.”
“Leprechaun outbreak,” her aunt replied. “Colonies are popping up in Kansas and Oklahoma. They’re causing earthquakes.”
“Again?” Rory frowned. “Didn’t he just deal with leprechauns?”
“You’re thinking chupacabras,” Malina corrected. “And what do you expect? There was a lot of rain last year, and those things mate like rabbits on speedballs.”
“What’s a speedball?” Cait asked.
“A game Americans play,” Rory lied.
“Not the kind of speedball I meant,” Malina muttered.
Rory smirked. The sounds in the attic became more restless as the spirits attempted to come downstairs. All eyes turned upward.
“We need to find out how they came inside in the first place,” Malina said. “Euann’s security spells have never been breached, not like this, never by so many.”
Cauldrons and Confessions (Warlocks MacGregor Book 4) Page 3
