Magick and Mischief (Warlocks MacGregor Book 7)

by Michelle M. Pillow

Andrea stumbled back. These children didn’t need her help. She turned to run into the house.

  The girl had reappeared, blocking the path to the door. Her twin joined her, wearing the same innocent expression and white petticoat dress.

  Tick. Tick.

  The phantom was close and the ghost children blocked her quickest retreat inside.

  “Help,” Andrea mouthed, the sound not coming out.

  “Andrea!” Kenneth’s shout came from within the house. She saw him darting past a window.

  Tick, scrrich, tick…

  “Stay back!” The thought of him running into danger propelled her into action. She charged the ghost children as she sprinted for the door.

  “Andrea,” Kenneth called again.

  Andrea cried out in fear, blocking her face with her arms as she ran through the spirits. Freezing temperatures blasted her skin, and the air smelled like death. She wildly flung her arms to push the feeling away.

  The spirits didn’t stop her and she kept going. Yellow sparks erupted like fireworks in the doorway. The shock of their sudden blast caused her to stumble. She tried to focus past the light.

  Kenneth was at the heart of the magick. He held the door open. His lips were parted as if to scream but no sound came out. His panicked expression didn’t change. He was a statue like the first time she’d seen him through the portal.

  A dark cloud appeared to her right, taking the form of Mama Cecile. Kenneth’s frozen body was left exposed. Andrea ran as fast as she could before slamming into his chest to force him back.

  An icy hand grabbed her wrist, but she slipped from the grasp as she made contact with Kenneth.

  Their bodies pitched into the house. The door slammed shut behind them. Andrea braced herself for the jarring pain that was sure to come when Kenneth’s hard body struck the floor. They hit with a loud thud, but instead of pain she fell through him and the world faded to black.

  Chapter Twelve

  Andrea’s body disappeared from her consciousness. She couldn’t see, couldn’t feel a physical surrounding, couldn’t hear or speak. All she had were her thoughts and the sensation of panicked emotions building where her chest should have been. If she had to guess what being a ghost felt like, this would have been relatively close.

  Mama Cecile had killed her, or rather whatever was pretending to be Mama Cecile. When the phantom touched her arm it had felt different than the ghost children. The phantom was pure magick and intent. Andrea had felt the life pulling out of her.

  She wasn’t ready for death, but she was not surprised by it. It had been coming for her since that night in the swamp. That didn’t change the sorrow now consuming what was left of her entire being.

  With the knowledge came clarity. There was so much she wanted to do. She’d never traveled outside of the United States. She’d never wrote a book, a dream she’d secretly held since she was a teenager. She’d never been in love.

  Kenneth.

  Maybe she had found love.

  The swirling of emotions began to focus themselves, pulling from her like a thread. Light appeared, a soft warm glow radiating from within. Her body returned, her senses numbed but there.

  Strands of light snaked from her chest through the darkness, seeming to stretch into eternity

  “Andrea,” Kenneth said behind her.

  When she turned to him the blackness of their surrounding lightened. They were in the MacGregor home, standing near the back door. She reached for him, intent on pulling him to safety. Her hand fell through his, unable to make contact. Thinking she missed him, she tried again, only to realize her fingers passed through him. She lifted her transparent hand, able to see a foot through her skin.

  She frowned. The foot wasn’t at the right angle, but it was her shoe. She drew her hand back for a better look. Her body laid on top of Kenneth’s from when she’d knocked him over. He was in the same position, arm reaching for a doorknob that was no longer there. Her limbs sprawled at odd angles over him.

  Her eyes rounded and she willed the image to go away.

  Crap.

  She really was dead.

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” she whispered, finding it difficult to speak.

  “What happened?” Kenneth asked, drawing her attention away from their bodies.

  “I was wrong about the entity. It’s not the spirit of Mama Cecile. I called my grandmother and she said Cecile had been crossed over decades ago. She said they never sent me. Whatever it is lured me to the swamp and is using the legend of Cecile to scare me.” She stared down at her body. “I’m not sure why. What if the portals were used to lure me here by Mama Cecile and not Jewel?”

  “That actually makes more sense than a location haunting suddenly deciding to chase prey across country.” Kenneth ignored their bodies on the floor. He was as transparent as she.

  “You seem to be taking this pretty well.” Andrea found herself drifting closer to him. She wished that he could hold her. She ached for physical contact, a touch of a hand, anything to tell her she could still feel the world.

  “I’ve had a lifetime to become accustomed to paranormal threats,” he answered.

  “A long warlock’s lifetime,” she noted.

  Kenneth nodded. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  She barely heard him as she pressed her hands together, seeing them touch but not feeling her skin. This wasn’t right. She knelt by her body, trying to pull her arm.

  “Andrea?” Kenneth asked. “Are ya listening.”

  “I don’t want to be dead.” She tried to insert her arm back into her body. It didn’t work but she kept trying. Panic filled her. “No. No. No. No.”

  “Och, what are ya doing, lassie?” Raibeart appeared in a doorway wearing a kilt and leather bands on his forearms. A slash of tartan crossed his naked chest from left shoulder to right hip with a strap leather crossing the other direction to hold a sword against his back. Black paint slashed around his eyes and down his cheek. He appeared ready for medieval battle.

  Andrea looked at him in surprise when he met her gaze. Was he coming to fight the phantom?

  “Stop this nonsense. Get back in there.” He lifted his hand and began tapping the top of her head. She felt his touch. “Get in there. Go on.”

  Raibeart forced her head down as he pushed her into her body. She felt her skin slipping around her like a latex body suit. Her lungs filled and she gave a high-pitched gasp for air as she scrambled to her feet. She felt her arms and face.

  “I was dead,” she said. “I was—”

  “Not dead,” Raibeart corrected. “Just a little undead. We’ve all been there.”

  “Kenneth!” She turned to where his spirit had been standing but couldn’t see him.

  “Come on, your turn.” Raibeart gestured to Kenneth’s statue on the ground. He made a series of motions that would have looked insane if she didn’t know what he was doing. He kicked his foot sideways about the height of Kenneth’s ass.

  “What can I do?” Andrea asked. He ignored her.

  “Get your arse back into…” Raibeart jammed the heel of his hand downward as he muttered to himself. “Your. Stubborn. Arse.”

  Raibeart took a deep breath as he stepped away from Kenneth. Andrea waited but Kenneth didn’t move.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Andrea knelt beside him. His face was locked in concern, as if he still yelled for her. She touched his hair, trying to brush it back, but it didn’t move.

  “Eh, laddie, get up.” Raibeart nudged Kenneth’s thigh with the toe of his boot a few times before chuckling. “He must have really made them mad this time.”

  “Who?” Andrea put her hand on Kenneth’s chest but was unable to detect a heartbeat or breathing.

  “I’m guessing this is the work of his ma and Aunt Cait.” Raibeart seemed more amused than concerned. He leaned over his nephew and mocked Kenneth’s shocked expression before laughing. “They weren’t happy when he tried to take that sweet baby into hiding.
It would have taken some powerful magick to trap him in the house like this. That kind of magick takes strong conviction and emotion to keep going. A woman intent on protecting a baby would just about do it.”

  “What about a father protecting his child?” Andrea frowned. “Doesn’t that count? If he thinks it’s best to leave then…?”

  “Aye, sure, that counts, but women have a connection to life that men will never know. Ya carry it inside ya. That gives ya a special kind of power, one that does not take actual magick to work, a force ya can tap into with a fierceness. Witness a ma protecting her baby, or a grandma doing the same.” Raibeart glanced around the room before snapping his fingers. A tube appeared in his hand. He went to his knees next to his nephew.

  “Will that wake him up?” Andrea asked, trying to see what the man held.

  “Nah. Nothing I can do about that. It wasn’t my spell. My guess is he’ll be like that for a few hours at least.” Raibeart chuckled as he pulled the tube apart.

  “What are you…?” Andrea frowned as Raibeart twisted a tube of orange-red lipstick and began swiping it along Kenneth’s lips. “Hey, stop that!”

  “There’s a pretty lad,” Raibeart laughed. “Ya think I don’t know ya have been dipping into my special scotch.”

  Andrea snatched the lipstick away from him, getting it all over her fingers.

  “Careful, love, that stains.” Raibeart’s grin widened. The color was smeared around Kenneth’s lips like a little kid getting into his mother’s makeup drawer. Raibeart stood and studied his nephew. “No need to be too protective. Kenneth knows he had this coming.”

  “And who are you protecting?” Andrea glanced meaningfully at his attire.

  “This?” Raibeart reached behind him to touch the hilt of the sword. He grinned. “This is for wooing. I’ve got a date.” He wagged his brows and his voice dipped into a seductive whisper, “I’m going to offer to show her my sword.”

  Andrea bit back a laugh of surprise.

  “And when she says yes—”

  “Oh, no, I don’t need to know the rest,” Andrea cut him off.

  “Sorry, love. I didn’t mean to make ya jealous.” Raibeart gave her a look of remorse. “But I can’t marry ya. My nephew’s heart would break. I don’t have many rules, but that’s one.”

  Andrea pressed her lips tightly together to keep from laughing. The fact she could even think of smiling at a time like this was surprising. “I understand.”

  “No, don’t ya cry. Ya must find a way to carry on, sweet one. Kenneth’s a good boy,” Raibeart assured her. “Doesn’t know to ask for help, so make sure ya ask for the both of ya when the time comes. Now, why don’t ya leave the bear rug where he’s at and we’ll get ya a stiff drink.”

  Raibeart turned to leave.

  “Wait, I think I need help.” Andrea glanced at the back door. “And I don’t think it’s safe to go outside.”

  Raibeart crossed to the window and looked at the back gardens. “What are the troublesome twins doing back here? Who let them out of hell?”

  “You know the ghosts?” Andrea hesitated before going to the window. “They said they wanted to kill the family.”

  “Oh, aye, those hellions run amuck causing problems. They’re like a bad case of termites, eating and gnawing. Irritating at first but dangerous in the long term without an exterminator. We’ll exorcise them. Again.” He lifted his fingers and waved toward the back yard. He mimicked their singsong voices. “Ya can hide, ya can seek, we’re going to send ya to hell to bake, ya little minions.”

  “I thought this home and grounds were protected,” Andrea said. When she looked past Raibeart to the gardens she saw a faint shadow of Mama Cecile’s shape. The two ghost girls held hands as they stared at the house.

  “It is, from the usual,” Raibeart agreed. “They’re not usual. Those two will take a very special recipe.”

  “And the other one?” Andrea stared at the phantom.

  “What other one?”

  She pointed toward the shadow.

  “Oh, love, ya don’t have to make up threats to keep me from my date.” Raibeart patted her arm. “If it’s that painful for ya I won’t go. But ya are going to have to accept…” He motioned to Kenneth’s fallen statue.

  “That’s not—” Andrea tried to protest.

  Raibeart put a finger against her mouth. “Shh.”

  Raibeart winked before backing away. He placed his hand over his heart and then began to sing a jaunty song in a language she couldn’t understand. His voice softened as he walked from the room.

  “No offense, Kenneth, but your family is weirder than mine.” Andrea gazed over the garden. The shadow and ghosts had disappeared, but she wasn’t about to leave him unprotected.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Being frozen into a statue wasn’t as “fun” as it sounded. It was much, much worse. And incredibly boring. Plus, as he regained feeling in his skin there was an itch along his inner thigh he couldn’t scratch.

  Kenneth was unable to speak or move, but his mind slowly pulled from a dream state to an awareness of his surroundings. He watched Andrea as she stood by a window gazing at the back gardens. She tapped her fingers on the glass. He wanted to get her attention but all he could do was move his eyes. Though, if he had to be frozen with only one thing to look at, Andrea’s ass wasn’t a bad view.

  “Please call me if you find out anything,” Andrea was saying into the phone to her grandmother. “Yes, I promise I’m all right. I’m someplace safe. Please don’t worry. They know all about magick here.” She paused. “Yes, I promise I’ll call. I love you both, too.”

  Her arm dropped and he assumed she hung up the call.

  In his current helpless state, he had ample time to think. Andrea was here for a reason. He believed that. Whether it was fate, or his daughter’s magick, he wasn’t sure, but he wanted her here. When he was near her, he felt something beyond constant worry and fear. He felt whole.

  That didn’t mean the fear had left him. If anything, it grew. She had needed him to help her and he’d been trapped in the house. He could not protect her while in his gilded prison.

  “I was told ya needed to speak to me,” Margareta said from the doorway. From his position, he couldn’t see her but he knew his ma’s voice. “Why aren’t ya with Jewel?”

  “I offered. Cait said she needed her for a picture,” Andrea answered. “Besides, I thought it best someone stay in here with Kenneth.”

  “I hadn’t realized Cait was home. She’s probably having an artist paint Jewel’s portrait.” Margareta appeared near his feet to study him. She shook her head in disappointment like she silently chided a naughty child. “Cait is very particular about her family portraits.”

  “Your and Cait’s spell almost cost us our lives,” Andrea stated, her tone hard.

  Margareta’s expression tightened but she didn’t turn to face the woman as she continued to stare down at him. She lifted her hand and gestured. A tissue floated to her fingers and she leaned over to swipe at his face. When she lifted the tissue so he could see, it was covered in smears of red-orange. It was evident one of his relatives had gotten to him. He could only imagine what his face looked like. To him, she whispered, “Not your shade, my son.”

  “You need to release him.” Andrea’s gaze bore into the back of Margareta’s head. “I know you’re afraid he’ll leave, but that’s what children do. They grow up, and move out, and raise their own families.”

  Margareta frowned. “I’m sure ya mean well, but we are not a normal family. There is protection in numbers. Jewel needs to be kept within the family fold. That arrangement is none of your concern.”

  “Isn’t that her father’s decision?” Andrea insisted. “How is trapping him inside these walls protecting Jewel? You have to know that’s not right.”

  “I know that I will do anything to protect my family.” Margareta turned and he could no longer see her face. Her hand balled into a fist around the tissue. “They may not lik
e it, but I’ll do what I think is best.”

  Kenneth struggled against his statue prison but was unable to break free. He tried to direct his thoughts toward his mother, begging her not to throw a fireball, even as he knew she would not be able to read his mind. Andrea had picked an argument with the wrong MacGregor.

  “Does it look like your son is protected?” Andrea clearly didn’t sense the danger she was currently facing.

  “Ya are paid to entertain my granddaughter, not worry about my son.” Margareta’s hand balled into a tight fist.

  Kenneth struggled harder, but it was no use.

  “Someone needs to worry about him. Look at him.” Andrea placed her hands on her hips. “He’s literally defenseless. Your little power trip has made him a sitting duck for an attack. If Raibeart hadn’t of come along and shoved our souls back into our undead bodies who knows what would have happened.”

  Well, hold on a minute. He wasn’t literally defenseless. And he would have been able to reverse the out of body experience once the petrifying spell weakened a little.

  He hated not being able to defend himself.

  Andrea nodded toward the window. “There is danger out there. Right there. In your backyard. It wants to get in. What happens if it does?”

  “We protect—” Margareta’s voice rose as she placed her hands on her hips to mimic Andrea’s stance.

  “This is not protection.” Andrea’s tone lifted to rival his mother’s. “This is insanity.”

  “This is what is best. The very same hour Jewel came into her powers someone tried to get to her. Kenneth was indisposed and if I hadn’t of held the child who knows what would have happened. I didn’t see her face, but I chased the threat out of the house. We have stepped up the protection spells since that day. My granddaughter needs us whether my son wants to admit it or not,” Margareta said. “I love my son but—”

  “I love your son, too,” Andrea argued back before gasping. She covered her mouth. Her eyes darted to his. “I mean…”

  Margareta’s posture relaxed. Kenneth wished he could turn his head to see Andrea better.