Then she noticed the others were staring as though transfixed, toward the roof of Mac's manor. Time seemed to have stopped when the statue fell from Mac's roof, as though someone had reproduced it on canvas. She had lived out the rest of the scenario in her mind as she had remembered it, but the statue was still in midair; her father was frozen on the front steps of his house. Tarrh had pushed her out of the way, then jumped to the side himself. She noticed something else then—a cloaked figure on the roof of the house. Her heart was in her throat as she peered up at the form, knew in an instant the energy of the man who had unseated the statue from the top of the house.
"Ian!” she howled, spinning to face the man she loved. “How could you?"
Sean tried to back away as he kept his gaze toward the ground. “I-I did not mean to hurt Mac,” he stammered. “'Twas McCann I was after. You must believe me—I never meant to hurt you or Mac."
She followed his retreat, eyes narrow and cold. “You killed my father; you let me believe it was Tarrh; all this time, knowing I would kill the man responsible for my father's death, you lied to me, let me make everyone suffer for something you did,” she accused.
"You were happy believing ‘twas McCann who put an end to your father's life; it fueled your hatred of him. You wanted to hate him, remember, my love?” Sean indicted.
She shot him an icy stare, pointed her finger at him. “Never call me your love again,” she commanded. “You do not love me—you never did. How plainly I can see that now. Had you loved me, you would have told me the truth all those years ago. You could not have continued to lie to me all this time if you loved me. You wanted my father's estate, did you not? Then you saw the chance to double your fortune by keeping me waiting for you until Tarrh was dead as well. How clear it all is now."
* * * *
Sean cowered at her blistering words, for they stung like poison darts. She would kill him now, he thought. Had she not sworn vengeance on the man who killed her father? “Moira, I do love you. I myself thought it was only about wealth and power until last night. Have you already forgotten our words of love?” he asked.
"Enough!” she shouted. “I also have a confession for you, my love,” she said with a sarcasm that stung. “I was carrying your child when that statue fell on my father and me. You murdered your own child that day, Ian. You killed all the hope I had in life; I wanted to have that baby; ‘twas the reason I loathed Tarrh, because I thought he killed my father and my baby. Now I learn it was you all along, filling my heart and head with your senseless gibber of love, only to snatch it all away from me in an instant. Are you proud of yourself?"
Sean shook his head sadly. “I-I did not know; you should have told me you were with child. Believe me, I would never have done anything to endanger a baby—” he pleaded.
"Believe you?” she asked. “I shall never believe anything you say again. You are a liar and a murderer and you have made a murderer of me as well; you are a demon. I should have listened to my father; he saw through you and all your lies; ‘twas the reason he would never agree to my marrying you. He knew you were no good!"
Sean was beginning to look for a way out of his predicament as he backed a few more steps away from Moira and the others. He had to run, had to save himself. If he stayed here another instant, Moira would kill him for sure. The sad part was that he did truly love the woman, but he had discovered it too late. His chance to prove his love had passed; now he was only a liar and would ever be so in her eyes. Best to run while he had the chance and never look back. He would miss her—damn, he would miss her and he would miss the passion only she sparked in him. He turned and ran as hard as he could, but stopped dead in his tracks when he realized the terrible truth. The man he was now didn't exist in this time, only the man he had been. This new terrible revelation dropped him to his knees. Running would do him no good, he realized as he turned around to see his worst fears becoming reality.
Moira threw her arms into the air, began a loud chant that filled the hills with echoes of her intention. She meant to pull him from the roof of Mac's house and break him into pieces below, the same way the falling statue had burst into pieces when it crashed down on Mac. He had recognized the true danger too late; now all he could do was watch in horror as the drama unfolded. In seconds he would cease to be here because he would have died in the past with Mac.
"No,” he called out softly, too softly for anyone to hear. “Please, do not do this thing."
He watched as Moira grasped at the air, grabbing it as though it were his cloak and then he saw his screaming, writhing form fall through the breeze and all at once, he was inside that pitiful creature, clawing, fighting, crying in terror as he came speeding to the earth. The pain was intense, a white-hot searing explosion of agony that gave rise to a brief burst of vibrant colors and ended with blackness, the color of his love's robe.
But his awareness didn't end there. He watched as she bound his spirit and banished him forever from this place to a cold and barren wasteland from whence there could be no return. She had captured his powers last night in that mad, frenzied heat of love making; had rendered him forevermore helpless; had wrenched the last vestiges of magic from his very soul, claimed them for her own. Only now did he understand her actions fully. She had mistrusted him enough to filch his powers from him when his defenses were at their lowest, as he held her and gave of his own essence willingly to her. Somehow, she had been wary of him all along. He watched in tears as her form gradually faded from view and finally became only darkness—it was still her he saw in the darkness, still her touch he felt as his being became one with the emptiness surrounding him.
"Moira, oh, Moira,” he cried bitterly. “In looking for my fortune, I passed up the greatest treasure, unaware."
* * * *
Moira was silent. She stood looking down at the lifeless form of her lover, felt once more the stir of yearning for things that might have been. How could she have been so wrong all this time? How could she have considered the things she had done to Tarrh and the others? Could she ever know forgiveness? She doubted it. Slowly, she turned to face Tarrh, still stupefied by the scenes she had witnessed. If he chose, he could kill her on the spot and banish her, just as she had done to Ian. It felt strange to her now, to have been the dwelling place of so much misguided hostility all this time. In many ways, she felt a freedom she had not known for years, to be so suddenly and completely divested of all that hatred.
Tarrh walked slowly to her, took her hand in his. “Moira, I give you your freedom. I ask only that you trouble my clan no more. Go where you will with my blessing. I hold you blameless for your actions,” he said.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked into the face of this stranger who had been her husband. He was a man she could have loved—would have loved, had she been a wiser woman. Now she regretted having taken so much from him without giving him anything. “I was abominably wrong about you. I am so very sorry for my actions,” she said at last.
Tarrh ran his hand over the curve of her face, let his thumb trace the great red scar and willed it to heal, to vanish. “I understand your motives, Moira. Of all the sentiments we can know, love and hate do more than all others combined to make fools of us wholly. You are yet young; you can make a life for yourself. Return to the house of your father, if you wish it; it is yours and all that is in it."
She shook her head. “I could never stay there now,” she said. “The last memories it holds are far too painful for me. Will you allow me to return to your house for my dogs and a few of my things?"
"Yes,” he said simply. “Benjamin, will you return us to the pit?"
Benjamin nodded and they suddenly found themselves standing again in the center of the pentagram. Moira looked about the great stone chamber and saw one of the enormous hounds standing over the motionless form of the other. She let out a low groan, rushed to see what was wrong. It was Myrrhic keeping vigil over her dead mate. Sobbing, Moira knelt to press her face to the lifeless form of
the huge male canine. In killing Sean, she had also determined the fate of her beautiful pet, though she had failed to realize it at the time. She softly patted his fur, letting her fingers linger in the luxurious, still warm pelt before she passed her hands over his form, let it fade into nothingness.
Myrrhic let out a low, baleful howl, gave Moira a soulful look of pure agony at the loss of her partner. Moira's eyes poured forth a profusion of tears onto the female as she held her, acknowledging the animal's request that she be allowed to go back to her own home, her own kind. “Oh, Myrrhic, I am so sorry. Go then, my beautiful friend. I wish you would stay, but I understand. Go with my blessing.” The female simply vanished.
Moira was silent a long time as the others looked on. She wept inconsolably for several moments before rising and regarding the others. “'Tis time I be on my way. I will go prepare my things. Can you get word to someone to take me to town?"
"We will take you to town,” Tarrh offered, taking Melody's hand. “We have to be fetching the boy anyway, do we not, dear?"
"Aye, that we should,” Melody agreed even though she still didn't quite believe they could trust Moira. One thing was certain; she had never seen the woman cry before and it was quite a sight to behold. Stirring as well, she thought, wiping her own eyes.
"Thank you,” Moira said. “It shan't take me long.” Then she addressed Liz, Kim and Benjamin. “I am grateful to you all for coming here and stopping me from making another grave mistake. I have been very bad to you all, but I will cause you no more trouble. Rest assured I have loosed those I had bound from your time. I hold no one bound now, save Ian Malcomb."
Having spoken these words, she faded from their sight. Benjamin turned to Liz and Kim. “Well, lasses,” he said, “I think we should be going now, ourselves."
Liz took a deep breath, nodded. “I'm ready to be home again,” she said.
"Me, too,” Kim agreed.
Tarrh moved closer to the trio, held out his hand to Benjamin, then embraced each of the women. “I owe you all a great debt of gratitude,” he said. “You gave me my life back and that is something I thought no one could ever give. How can I ever thank you?"
"Thanks aren't necessary,” Kim said.
"I wish ye didna have to go, lasses,” Melody said. “'Twould be so nice for ye to stay here, like part of the family."
Liz hugged Melody warmly. “Maybe we will see each other again sometime,” she said. “You two be happy!"
Tarrh smiled brightly. “Aye, lass, and you do the same. Come to visit us when you can, though I am sure our lives will be much less exciting for you to see in the future,” he said.
Kim chuckled. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Tarrh. I'll bet you and Melody and young William will have lots of adventures,” she said.
Melody winked at her and hugged her tightly. “Aye, and whenever we have adventures, we shall think of ye and give thanks for ye,” she promised. “Thank ye."
"You're welcome,” Kim said.
"Yes, you are,” Liz chimed in. “And I can't say goodbye to you, Tarrh, so I will just say see you later."
"See you later,” Tarrh agreed. “Be well and happy."
Chapter 42
Back at the house, Kim and Liz went from room to room looking for Spooky and Ghost, to no avail and finally went to the kitchen to see if Joel had left word for them. Kim found the note and quickly scanned it. “Oh,” she said. “Joel and Mark were here and found we'd had an intruder; Sean, that is. They spent the night but when they had to leave the next day, Joel took the critters with him until we returned, just in case—says he was afraid Sean might come back here and try to hurt them. Hmm—guess we had better call to let him know we made it home and our mission was a success."
Liz looked at the clock on the wall, grimaced. “We probably should wait until morning to call. It's two a.m."
"Oh, right. Well, I'll call later in the morning then,” Kim said. “Hello? Are you still with me?"
Benjamin tore his gaze from Liz, smiled warmly at Kim. “Aye, Kimberly, you are going to call the priest in the morning."
"Yeah,” she said. “Well—I guess I'll say good night and leave you two to say your goodbyes."
Benjamin reached to hug her, gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Good night, Kimberly, and may all your dreams be good ones. You did a wonderful job helping with the past and I appreciate what you both did for the house and the McCann clan—and for everyone. It was good working with you."
"Good for me, too, Ben. And thank you for all the help you were to us. I'm glad we got to know each other,” Kim said.
"So am I, lass; so am I,” he said. “Farewell."
Kim nodded as she backed away, looked at Liz. “Good night, kid,” she said. “Remember you need to get your rest."
Liz nodded. “Yes, Mommy,” she teased. “Rest well."
"Yeah, you too,” she said as she left the room. Bed was going to feel better than it had in a long, long time, she thought as she climbed the stairs to her room.
Benjamin and Liz watched Kim disappear up the stairs, then turned to stare at each other. Neither of them had the right words to say and so they said nothing for a while. Liz at last spoke, saying, “Well, that was some adventure, Ben. You really know how to show a gal an interesting time."
He looked at the floor, smiled. “Aye, young lady; I was about to say the same thing to you. You were right about Moira and Sean,” he commented. After a long, awkward silence, he took her in his arms, pulled her face to his in a long, tender kiss. “I love you, lass; you know that, don't you?"
Liz felt her eyes brim with tears. Time to say goodbye, but goodbye was the last thing she wanted to say to Ben. She wanted him to stay and be close by, wanted to keep on seeing him every day for a long, long time to come. “I love you, too, Ben,” she said softly.
"This is not truly goodbye, you know,” he said.
"But it is, isn't it? I mean, you have your own life to go back to and there is John—"
"Aye, there is John and he loves you, too. We have shared some incredible times together and you think you will miss me, but the truth is, you shan't miss me nearly as much as you think,” he said, cupping her chin in his hand so she had to meet his gaze.
The tears were flowing freely now and she wished he wasn't looking at her; she didn't want him to see her crying. “I know that's true, technically. But Ben, will I ever see you again?” she asked.
He brushed the tears from her face, kissed her eyes. “You mean, will I ever come to you through the portal?"
She nodded. “Yes, that's what I mean,” she said.
He engulfed her then in a tight hug she knew meant goodbye. “Lass,” he said at last, “if you ever need me, all you have to do is call for me. You and I are linked together now so powerfully all you have to do is think of me and I will hear you and come to you—if you truly need me."
She nodded that she understood, although in truth, she didn't want to accept the inevitability of what he was saying. His place was in the past; hers was here and now. They were irrevocably a part of each other, though they were two halves of a whole that didn't fit together exactly in either of their worlds. This was the cold, hard truth she would have to learn to live with; they were seemingly doomed to remain out of sync. Would their time ever come?
"I will always need you,” she confessed.
"Aye, and I shall always need you, lass. I must go now. Timothy will be out getting himself into trouble,” he said.
"I understand,” she said, looking at the floor. “Take care of yourself."
He smiled briefly and kissed her once more before he vanished. She stood listening to the silence a long while before turning off the light and heading up to her room. She was more tired than she had thought, the task of climbing the stairs taking its toll as she at last reached the top and flung herself onto the bed. She was still clad in her underclothes and she thought how nice it would feel to take a shower, but she opted instead for the nepenthe of sleep. Tomorrow she
would probably cry some more, but now she had to have rest ... “Benjamin ... oh, Benjamin,” she sobbed softly before drifting into the oblivion of much needed sleep.
* * * *
Things returned to a more average normal in the following days. Joel and Mark spent a good deal of time at the house and Kim and Liz shared their experiences in the past with them. The four of them meditated together on making certain all the restless spirits tied to McCann's manor were freed and sent into the light, visiting with each of them and making sure they had finished their business on the earth plane.
Two weeks passed before they knew it and they were settling into a routine lifestyle and beginning to enjoy their home in a way they hadn't thought possible with all the strangeness going on before. Now, life became quiet and good; Kim returned to her readings at the bookstore in Austin and Liz started two new beadwork projects. Spooky and Ghost were back to normal, although Ghost had taken up the habit of checking each and every room the first thing every morning to make sure no unwelcome visitors had come during the night.
Mark added his name to the growing list of people who were anxiously awaiting the psychic development class, tentatively scheduled to begin the first of the year, but Liz suspected Mark's interest was more in Kim than in psychic development. Indeed, Mark and Kim were fast on their way to becoming an item, seeing each other regularly and visiting over the phone when he wasn't at the house or taking Kim out to dinner or the movies.
One late autumn evening in mid-November, Liz was sitting at the breakfast bar reading over the notes she had made about the McCann case when the doorbell rang. She made her way down the hall, opened the door to find John leaning against the jamb, a big bouquet of roses in his hand. “Well,” Liz said nonchalantly, “look what just turned up on my doorstep. When did you get in?"
"Just a few minutes ago. May I come in?” he asked, offered her the roses.
McCann's Manor Page 45
