Revenge (Book 3 of Lost Highlander series) (10 page)

“Aren’t you worried about Daria?” she asked, stepping out of his reach.

He had the worst habit of distracting her from what was important. If he couldn’t touch her, she had a better chance of staying focused on the problem at hand.

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the rounded edge of the tub. A frown marred his handsome face.

“Piper, love, if she is here, she’s being nothing more than a wee nuisance.”

What was wrong with him? Piper held her breath, disturbed that he would be so cavalier. They had dropped everything to immediately return to this time, leaving his brother, Pietro and Bella in the lurch. Her stomach churned to think Lachlan and that little brat Bella were still legally married. And not least of all, the witch had killed his friend and mentor, Agnes. Seriously, what was wrong with him? He should have shared at least a little bit of her seething, encompassing rage.

“Have you forgotten about Agnes?” she said, instantly regretting it when his eyes flew open, full of pain.

“I have no’,” he said coldly, staring at her.

She dropped a towel on the tile floor and knelt down beside the tub. “She can’t be allowed to exist, Lachlan, don’t you understand? She’s done so much evil.” She pushed up her sleeve and reached into the water to take his hand.

He breathed out, a long gust of discontent. “She canna hurt us now,” he said, and the look in his eyes told her he believed it. He looked pained when he saw that she clearly did not. “We are together, against all the odds, against all her efforts. She has no power now. She is dust in the crypt.”

But she knew he was wrong. Daria could hurt them. Not even his great size or brute strength, or the force of his love for her could protect them from Daria. It was up to her. With a sigh, she kept her arguments to herself. She needed the time he was spending enjoying the bath to study. She reached down and turned the jets on for him, then smoothed the hair away from his face.

“Okay,” she said.

He pushed himself forward through the water and kissed her forcefully on the mouth, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and soaking her silk top with sudsy water.

She yelped and pulled away, almost convinced by his beautiful, comforting smile. “I love your face,” she told him, which made him shout with laughter.

“That’s an odd compliment,” he said. “I love yer face as well, and all the rest of ye.”

She splashed him and stood up, hurrying out of the bathroom before her resolve melted right away and she joined him in his land of denial and false safety.

Closing the door behind her, she sat down in a chair facing the fire. She would be able to hear Lachlan draining the tub, or see his reflection in the glass of the fireplace screen if she wasn’t lost in a trance of some kind.

It was risky opening the book in here, but Mellie was still puttering around downstairs and if she tried to leave the bedroom she risked Evie being up and about, and dear Evie had missed her so much while she was gone, that she’d jump at the chance to spend time with her.

With a deep breath she opened the book to the last page she’d been on earlier. She desperately wanted to know what strange creature had been beating its wings, but she didn’t think it had any bearing on how to destroy a time traveling witch, so she picked another page.

The first one that caught her eye was a list of instructions on how to make a clear yellow dye, which in its own right was interesting given that Piper had wanted to start an artisan yarn business with one of the villagers when she’d first gotten her sheep. Anger crystallized in her heart when she remembered all her sheep were dead, and she slapped her palm onto the page.

There was no whoosh taking her anywhere different, no images dancing across her eyes. Just a stone cold knowledge of what she had to do. She took her hand off the book and blinked a few times. It was still there, then it was gone. Damn it. She put her hand down again, wondering if she could try to write down what she learned.

Groping for a pen and notebook in her side table drawer, she sat on the edge of her bed and tried it again, placing her left hand on the book, her right hand poised and ready to write. The information flowed so freely through her mind that she scribbled it all down, excited to get started as soon as it was all there on paper. When she was fairly sure she had written everything she thought was important, she wrenched her hand free from the musty parchment page.

She glanced at the clock and was surprised that less than five minutes had gone by. Sure that she’d been writing for a long time and that Lachlan was going to come out of the bathroom any minute, she relaxed and looked at her notes. Bitter disappointment filled her when she saw that she’d written a bunch of nonsense. It didn’t even look like words. She held up the page and saw that within the scrawls and loops and swirls that she’d put down, she could actually make out a few words.

Bring. Her. Back.

Her heart nearly stopped when those three words hurtled out at her from her chicken scratch. But now that she saw it, it was plain as day. She hurriedly wrapped the diary in a handkerchief and stuffed it under the bed, then moved it to the wardrobe, hating for it to be so close to where she and Lachlan slept. She hated that diary, as much as she needed it.

Bring her back. But how? Certainly it couldn’t be as easy as performing the ritual? Piper closed her eyes and tried to think. It had all seemed so clear. If she performed the spell and concentrated on bringing someone to her, could that work the same as sending someone away? A surge of confidence that it would work made her tingle with a giddy sense of excitement mingled with fear. Could she be that close to a showdown with Daria?

A powerful force deep within her was telling her she needed to act quickly. Tears pricked at her eyes when she realized she wouldn’t be able to just up and do the spell again. She spread out her hand and held it up in front of her face. Damn it. No bones.

Her stomach churned as she thought about how she could go about getting some finger bones. Self loathing burned through her, making her have to stand up and pace the room.

“No,” she muttered, glancing at the bathroom door. She could still hear the tub jets whirring. “You are not insane, you are not a witch, you are not thinking about possible ways to get human bones.”

Yes you are.
 Another voice sounded in her head, calm and cool. She froze in her pacing and started to shake.

And you know where to get them.

She raced to the bathroom door and reached out a trembling hand. If she opened it she would see Lachlan’s sweet smile and loving blue eyes and she would be saved. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would be all right if she opened the door. She started to turn the handle.

Or you could end this.

Piper turned and ran from the bedroom and down the stairs. She made it outside before she started to sob. The night air was chilly but she was burning up with energy. Gripping the edge of one of the wrought iron benches, she tried to get her legs to bend so she could sit and think and calm down.

A light was coming from the little bedroom off the kitchen that Mellie had taken over for her own. She was probably studying or watching a movie. She wouldn’t mind if Piper tapped on her door and wanted to hang out for a while. They had so much to catch up on. Still gripping the bench, she turned in the direction of the kitchen door.

Then she let go of the bench and headed away from the house, down the hill and past the stable. She hadn’t brought a flashlight and when she was beyond the motion sensor garden lights, she kept walking purposefully through the dark. The thing that was guiding her wouldn’t let her fall. When she reached the door of the crypt, her heart beat steadily with calm determination. The stream of tears she’d cried while she’d walked dried on her cheeks. The giant old padlock hung open on the door.

Come in
, the cool voice in her mind said.

She pushed open the door.

“No, ye need to stay down,” Quinn said, shoving Pietro forcefully back onto the couch. “Everytime we think ye are better, ye fall back down again. I canna have ye die on me.”

Pietro nodded and stared at the ceiling. His body felt like it was floating in the ocean, the sickening tides moving him back and forth. A hundred years seemed to pass as he watched the light fade across the walls.

Someone came in and lit the lamps and stoked the fire, checking his head and smiling at him. The kind lady, Quinn’s aunt, brought him some broth but he couldn’t swallow it. Eventually he closed his eyes.

Everyone was gathered around him, sitting on chairs in the room. He could make out their muffled voices, but not quite their words. He imagined this was his wake. Funny how his splitting headache followed him after death. Just his luck.

“We shall wait for the news. When Geordie releases the prisoner, it will take him several days to make his way back. I’ve sent word to prepare. I’ve no doubt we shall have to take the fight back to the Glens.”

Pietro realized nobody was mourning him too hard if they were talking strategy. He was a peaceful enough person, despite having signed up to go to war in his own time. He’d just wanted to fly, really, not fight. But strangely, now, he did want to fight. Sadly, he would never have the chance. He really hoped he’d leave his body before they buried him. Being stuck behind like this was disconcerting.

“I dinna know why ye insist on keeping the lass with us?” Aunt Gwen said and Pietro bristled from beyond the pale. How dare she be so quick to turn over his darling Bella to her tyrant of a father.

“I had verra specific instructions from Lachlan before he left, Aunty. I willna go against him, nor should ye speak so.”

He heard her grumble but she didn’t argue further. Quinn cleared his throat loudly and someone else came into the room. A soft, gentle hand rested on his forehead. He liked it, knowing it was Bella, happy she at least cared. More mumbled conversations until the room became dark again behind his eyes. The lamps had been extinguished and still Bella sat with him. He heard her crying quietly and felt her hand shaking as she stroked his hair.

With a start he sat straight up, almost knocking her teeth out. She hurtled back in her chair and clutched her chest.

“I thought ye were asleep,” she said, wiping at her eyes.

“I thought I was dead,” he said, looking around. He pressed his knuckles into his hot, grainy eyes and coughed. Immediately she offered him a cup of water, which he drained and breathlessly asked for more. “How long was I out?”

She filled the cup from a pitcher on a sideboard and frowned. “Since yesterday.” She watched him drain the second cup of water.

He lay back down, every last drop of energy he had expended by sitting up. His pain was excruciating, and he knew he would no longer be able to pretend he was getting better.

“I love ye,” he said, in case. Every breath could be his last, and he didn’t want to waste any of them. “Just so ye know.”

She put her head on his chest and started to cry.

Piper blinked in the darkness, closing the crypt door behind her. She walked without hesitation to a ledge that held several small votive candles and a lighter. A few seconds later she was surrounded by a halo of candle light. The air was cold and dry, the first room of the family mausoleum containing the most recently deceased.

She walked past her great-grandmother Fenella’s tomb; a small cubby containing her cremated remains. Her grandmother had an honorary place next to Fenella. She had run away from Castle Glen when she was sixteen and never returned. No one in the family ever knew why. Piper didn’t even know about this place until Fenella left it all to her the year before.

There was nothing she needed in this room, but she wanted to stay. She didn’t want to go further underground, to where the bodies were. Where the bones were. It was safe, almost comforting up here with Fenella. She had visited before, trying to feel her great-grandmother’s presence. It had never happened before, but maybe this was the time, if she only stayed longer.

Hurry.

The voice came clearly back into her mind and she shook her head to try to physically get it out. She’d been out of control like this once before, and had ended up here.

“Yeah, okay,” she answered, to make herself feel less alone and maybe less crazy. She laughed quietly when it didn’t help. “Not surprising,” she muttered.

A jolt passed through her, like something was trying to shake her, get her to concentrate. She paused for another moment in front of the ledge containing Fenella’s remembrances and touched the little rolled up scroll resting there. She had done that before as well, trying to find a connection. But now, as then, there was nothing. It seemed the only ancestor who wanted to commune with her had dark intentions.

And Piper was set on destroying that link once and for all. She headed deeper into the crypt, holding her candle out in front of her, though she didn’t really need the light. Something else was guiding her steps. The candle made her feel better though, so she clung to the glass holder and tried not to let it waver too much in her shaking hands.

She passed the first room, not knowing if she had a certain destination or not, but knowing it wasn’t time to stop yet. The further back she got, the older the bodies were. Each was marked with a stone or plaque. Some had intricately carved busts or weapons surrounding their tombs. She briefly toyed with the idea of seeing if Lachlan’s tomb was still there. They had tinkered with history, so maybe his tomb and his severe looking marble bust would be gone. She was only one room away from where she remembered him to be but stopped instead of continuing forward.