The glass vanished.
Nikolai passed his hand back and forth in the empty air where it once stood. “See? All gone.”
Ellen let the book drop to her side. She didn’t want to play this game anymore. She wanted to fall through the floor to a world where none of this existed. She couldn’t be a witch. She couldn’t have magic powers or use spells to make random stuff happen out of nowhere. That only happened in fiction books.
An old-fashioned alarm clock went off, and the wizard turned to take his concoction off the centrifuge. He tinkered with his equipment for a second.
Ellen raised the book and read the cover. Beyond the Pale. Curious name for a book. She opened it up at the first bookmark. The heading read Good Luck Gin. She smiled to herself and looked at the next one. Love Potion Number Five.
Dirty old man… Ellen thought to herself in amusement as she flipped to the next bookmark. She almost gasped as she read the heading. Elixir of Life. The words blared into her brain. With bated breath, her eyes flicked down the page, over the words printed there.
Ýrtr Ing Ærgat Lerbi Göllid Hyngningr
Gysimðnur Sivöðnu Þrimr Angr Nýrn Viþrestr
Yggthu Goglfagr Meigþryrn Errýtaungr Fikmeðmautr Gýlþíldægr
Sparks tingled up her spine, and her hair stood on end at the back of her neck. The Elixir of Life. That must mean the Cipher’s Kiss. What was this spell? Did Ree know about this?
She stared at the page, skimming over the words again and again. They chanted in her mind the same way the other spells had.
All at once, the wizard yanked the book out of her hand. “That’s nothing you need concern yourself with. There’s one other spell in here that might come in handy…if I can only find it. Here it is.” He handed the book back to her.
She read the title at the top of the page. “To Find Lost Things.”
“You can use this to find just about anything, including people you’ve lost,” Nikolai told her. “Think about something you’ve lost that you want to find again, and this spell will draw it to you.”
She cast her mind back. She wanted…well, she wanted a lot of things she’d lost, but she couldn’t get them back. What would she ask for if she could have anything she wanted? When it came right down to being honest with herself, she only wanted one thing: Louis. Could she ever get him back? Where was he right now? Her vision cleared, and she read the words out loud in a clear voice. She held Louis in her mind all the while. If only her will could draw him to her, she would never squander a moment with him again. She glanced up at Nikolai.
He nodded and took the book from her again. “That was a good effort. You made a few pronunciation mistakes. Listen to me say it. I’ve been using this spell to find someone. Maybe it will work again now.”
She watched in slow motion but couldn’t move. What was she supposed to do—run screaming from the room? In mesmerizing slowness, she studied his lips forming the words. She never doubted for a moment who he was searching for.
He let the last long oooo linger in the air. Then, like lightning, his eyes shot up. He fixed her with a drilling glare. His whole face contorted in hideous fury, and he hissed through his clenched jaws. “You!”
Chapter 24
Louis waited outside the wizard’s house all morning, fatigue sapping the last of his strength. He drifted in and out of semi-consciousness and would have collapsed on the pavement if the brick wall at his back hadn’t supported him.
People passed in and out of the buildings all around him, traversing the streets in every direction. No one noticed him cringing in the shadows.
If the wizard didn’t come out of his house again, Louis would have to sneak inside and find that spell after dark. That could get dicey, but what choice did he have? The other option was to slink off to America in defeat along with the rest of his cursed Clan.
As the sun made its trek across the sky, every hour drained his resolve to carry on. What in the world was he doing here, anyway? What could he hope to accomplish in the wizard’s house? He should carry the news back to his Angui brothers that they needed a spell to activate the Cipher’s Kiss. They could sort out finding the words later.
He straightened his plaid and ran his fingers through his hair. The Prometheus would be miles away by now, but he could arrange his own passage to America. That would give him several months alone before he had to face anyone he knew.
Stepping out of the alley, he glanced over his shoulder once to make sure the coast was clear. When he turned around to set off on his way, he rounded another corner and collided headfirst with the constable.
Louis staggered a step back, but the man caught his sleeve and held him. “Slow down, man. Where are ye off to?”
Louis mumbled down at the pavement. “Excuse me. I was in a rush, and I didnae see ye there.”
The constable eyed his tartan up and down. “Kirkpatrick, is it?
Louis shuffled from one foot to the other. He had to play this cool if he wanted to get rid of the flatfoot. “Aye. Leith Kirkpatrick.”
“My mother’s Kirkpatrick,” the constable replied. “Aileen Kirkpatrick of Closeburn. Who are yer people, then?”
Louis thought fast, but it didn’t do him much good. He knew nothing about Lowland Clans or Clan Kirkpatrick in particular. He patched together bits and pieces he’d heard and picked up in his travels. “Me father’s Callod Kirkpatrick, from Drumlanrig.”
The constable stiffened. “Drumlanrig!”
Louis realized he’d made a mistake, but he couldn’t take it back now. “Aye.”
“Drumlanrig belongs to the Douglases.”
Louis didn’t wait to hear any more. America called him to escape with his life. Being twice a fugitive didn’t put him in danger any more than being once a fugitive. Only one thing mattered—getting out of this infernal country with his life. He charged the constable, bowling the man aside.
The constable hit the cobbles on his backside, and Louis bolted down the nearest side street. He ran until his lungs felt like they would burst and then dove under cover of thickets at the park’s edge. He crashed through the undergrowth a good way before his exhausted body gave out, then collapsed among the rotten leaves. His head swooned, and try as he might, he couldn’t drag his vision into focus, much less haul himself up to save his own life. City noises wafted in and out of his fevered brain, but nothing came any closer. He was safe for the moment.
Heat flushed his forehead, and his pulse throbbed behind his eyes. He had no idea how long he lay there before he summoned the strength to roll over. He heaved onto his hands and knees. His pounding skull weighed his neck down, and he couldn’t lift it to look up. This couldn’t go on. He needed food and sleep. He had to escape before the whole British Army rousted out to apprehend him.
He never should have come back to Aberdeen. He was an idiot. He crawled to a tree and steadied himself on his watery legs, listening for any sound of pursuit. Then he set off stumbling through the woods to the inn where he caught the coach last time.
He came to the bushes where he’d crouched with Ellen. If only she were here with him this time too, she would make everything okay. He sank down in the gloom to wait, resting his swollen head in his hands. He must have dozed off again when something smashed across his neck from behind.
He pitched forward with a nauseating grunt. The next thing he knew, men attacked him from every side. Pain and rage and hopeless desperation scorched through his every sinew. He writhed over on his back. His eyes popped wide open, as alert and clear as ever, and he almost died of shock at what he saw.
Some twenty men pounced on him with clubs and sabers, but they weren’t constables or even neighborhood policemen. They weren’t Redcoats. They all wore kilts. Their sporrans tossed with their sudden movements, and their long hair flew around their heads as they attacked him in primal fury.
They all wore the Gunn tartan. The Falisa had him surrounded in a deserted park in God-forsaken Aberdeen. Why, oh why hadn’t he withdrawn when Ned ordered
him to? He went looking for a way to die, and now he had found it. One less Angui would haunt this tired old world.
He only wished he could see Ellen one more time. Just one glimpse of her face smiling down at him and he could die in peace.
No! He wouldn’t die out here. He didn’t care about himself, but the other men of his race needed the information about the Cipher’s Kiss. They could get themselves a few nice women and ride off into the eternal sunset without him. He and only he held the secret, and he’d be damned if he fell to these Falisa scoundrels.
How did they find him? That didn’t matter. He kicked his legs off the ground and windmilled them in the air above his head, knocking three of his attackers away. That brief instant gave him time to draw his saber and go to work.
Seven of them dove in and stabbed their blades at him. He swatted them off and launched himself off the ground, landing in a wide stance. He measured his assailants in the blink of an eye. The mob included stout old warriors and an equal number of young, untried bucks not yet grown into their full weight. He couldn’t stand against all of them. He saw that already.
He picked the weakest point and launched himself at the boys. He bellowed in their faces and smashed their weapons out of their hands. In a split second, he forced his way through them and barreled into the thicket.
Adrenaline burned away his exhaustion and weakness. He could fight a lion like this, but not twenty Gunns bent on ridding the world of his stinking presence. They gave chase, but he put on speed and plunged into the darkest, thickest woods where they couldn’t follow.
He heard their baying fall farther and farther behind but didn’t slack his pace. He had no idea what part of Aberdeen he would emerge in when he left these woods and had to be careful not to run into the law. He dodged trunks and branches. The twigs whipped his face and stung his eyes, but he persisted until he spotted a gap through the undergrowth. He paused just long enough to check where he was, seeing the bookshop beyond the foliage.
A wicked idea came to mind. He stopped only long enough to smooth his hair back and straighten his clothes, then emerged onto the sidewalk and strolled across to the door. He waltzed in like any other customer, perused the stacks, and swept his eyes over the book spines like he was searching for something.
The Gunns rushed up and down the thoroughfare outside. He watched them with careful side glances through the front window. They pointed and shouted and ran around. They would never expect him to hide in one of their own sympathizers’ shops. As long as the wizard didn’t show up and catch him here, Louis was safe.
He slunk to a far corner, out of sight from the curtained doorway, finding a tattered armchair nestled under the stairs. Louis pulled a book off the shelf and sat down. He let the book crack open, and he pretended to read.
The doorbells jangled as a few other customers came and went. Louis’s heart thundered in his chest each time, but he didn’t move. He was determined to play dead until the commotion died outside. But how long could he hide in here before they gave him an opportunity to get out? He gauged the distance to the nearest coach stop where he could pay for passage out of town.
Every now and then, he’d go and swap out books, taking a peek out of the window until the situation on the street quieted down. When it finally did, he popped the door open and looked left and right. Nothing. No Gunns in sight.
With no one around to threaten him, he set off down the street toward an inn he knew. He could get something to eat there while he waited for the coach. The farther he walked, the more his courage revived. He was home free. He twisted and dodged through alleys and markets and neighborhoods. His spirits soared when he glimpsed the inn at a distance, and he quickened his pace. He cast right and left to scuttle between two wagons. The inn door hovered mere steps away.
A dozen Gunns rushed into view, heading straight for him.
His heart plummeted into his shoes as his hand flew to his saber hilt, but before he drew his weapon, he fathomed the horrible truth. He couldn’t fight them here. Even if by some stretch of the imagination he defeated them all, he could never get on the coach after an all-out battle on the streets of Aberdeen. The innkeeper or somebody would call the constable, and that would be it.
He spun on his heel to retreat, but it was too late. The Gunns had already seen him. They would pursue him all over town. His mind whirled for any avenue of escape, but he couldn’t go forward and he couldn’t go back. He was trapped.
At that moment, a private coach teetered around the nearest bend. It sped between Louis and the inn on its way into town. In a burst of adrenaline, he hopped onto the running board.
The footman riding behind cried out, “Hey!” but the coach barreled on up the street.
The Gunns parted to let the vehicle drive by, then closed around it and tried to run it down. They called out to the driver, but the man didn’t hear them over the wheels clattering on the cobblestones.
In a few minutes, the coach carried Louis deeper into the city. He hopped off somewhere near the harbor. The Gunns, the police, and the army would all be out looking for him. How could he get out of this town? He took a stroll down the quay, hunting for a ship to jump aboard, but none of them were going to America. He finally settled on a merchantman bound for Colombia when he caught sight of the all-too-familiar flash of lobster red in the distance.
After years in the British Army himself, that color fired a spike of alarm in his guts. He couldn’t get caught, not now that he had reason to live. He scooted into a dank hole and disappeared into the slimy gutter world where beggars and street urchins and starving washerwomen lurked. They didn’t care if a man was wanted by the law.
This couldn’t go on, especially with night approaching. Every avenue and door closed against him. He darted from one crevice to another in constant anticipation of his enemies capturing him. Not even the open sea offered him any hope. What was the use in finding the hidden secret of the Cipher’s Kiss if he didn’t survive to pass it on to the people who really needed it?
At his wit’s end about what to do next, he sank down in a dingy doorway and cradled his head in his hands. He would have gone to the post office to send Ned a letter about the spell, to be collected in San Francisco whenever the Angui got there, but the post office was too close to the garrison.
At that moment, he heard footsteps marching down the pavement outside the alley. He glanced up just in time to see a man in a Gunn tartan kilt stride past. The man happened to check down the alley, and their eyes locked. Determined hatred gleamed in the Falisa’s face. He stood rooted to the spot, then marched on past and disappeared.
He would bring his comrades back. Louis never doubted that for an instant. He struggled to his feet, but he couldn’t go out into the open again. The Falisa would be all over the place. He scrutinized the alley in which he stood. It ended in a brick wall rising halfway up the nearest building.
Louis’s blood burned in his veins. As long as he possessed the strength to stand, he had to keep running. He wasn’t dead yet. He scaled the wall and perched on its very top. From there, he just managed to hook his fingers over the gutter running along the eaves and hauled himself onto the roof. He scrambled from one roof to the next in a headlong rush to get as far away from the harbor as he could. He jumped from one building to another, never touching the ground. He crouched to hide behind parapets when he saw soldiers or Gunns in the streets below, but he made steady progress to get far away.
Chapter 25
Ellen and Nikolai stood face-to-face for what seemed like an eternity, his wicked old eyes boring into her soul. He understood at last exactly who she was. She entertained no more doubts about that.
All his kindly gentility evaporated, leaving pure evil in its place. His face quivered in suppressed malice. The next instant, he sprang, dropping the spell book as his withered fingers clutched at her throat. Ellen ripped herself away, but he hid incredible strength within his shriveled old body. His clammy claws tightened around her neck, a
nd she flew into a wild frenzy trying to fight him off. She screamed. He spun her around and smashed her face-first onto the table. All his glassware rattled, and the centrifuge jumped.
Ellen’s eyes blurred with tears of sudden pain. Rockets exploded into her brain. She plunged into darkness for a split second, then burst awake just in time for Nikolai to seize her by the hair and wrench her upright. Her eyes darted around the room in search of any way out of here as he held her in a death grip. Sheer terror infected her limbs. She twisted around to face him even as his hands yanked her hair out by the fistful. She wriggled in a circle and kicked him in the shins. He bellowed in rage and hauled back his fist to punch her in the face, then jerked her a few steps toward the door.
Cold, clear ferocity erupted out of her soul. She didn’t go through years of hardship raising her brothers and sisters to die at the hands of some geezer in a frock coat. She was going back to San Francisco where she belonged, and nothing on God’s green Earth would stop her.
She whipped around fast and seized a pipette tube from the table. She couldn’t lift her head with his fingers tangled in her hair, but she didn’t have to. In one vicious jab, she stabbed it down hard into his thigh.
The glass splintered to pieces, the last shard left in her hand resembling a laser-sharp knife with a lethal point. She sank its point into his leg muscle.
Nikolai roared in savage fury, then gave Ellen a punishing jerk by the hair and sent her spinning across the room. She crashed into the canopy bed and collapsed on the floor. Before she could recover, he was on top of her. He snatched another wad of her hair and hauled her to her feet, then hurled her at the table. Her face smashed into the hard wood, and she bounced off and hit the floor.
He marched to her side and delivered a shattering kick to her ribs. Her whole being shrieked, No! but she couldn’t react fast enough to fight back. No! She raised her hand toward him. If only she could catch her breath to repeat the magic words he’d taught her, she could make him disappear.
Spellbound by the Angui (Cipher's Kiss Book 2): A Scottish Highlander Time Travel Romance Page 17
