Revenge (Book 3 of Lost Highlander series) (11 page)

Here.

She halted as if a hand had reached out and stopped her. She looked down in alarm to see if someone was actually touching her shoulder and sighed to find she was alone. While she was certain about what she had to do, there was still a part of her that was telling her to leave the crypt and go back to the castle, go upstairs and get cozy with Lachlan.

She laughed nervously and looked around her. She was in a part of the crypt that contained her ancestors from the early nineteenth century. She was deep in, but there was far deeper. She could break free from the cold sensation that had been guiding her and sprint out of there. Turning to do just that, she heard the voice again and sank to the ground, trying to block it out by covering her ears and humming softly under her breath.

He will die. They all will die if you do not take care of this. You are poised to rid your life of the evil that plagues you.

The words kept repeating in her head until she took her hands away and stopped humming. Resolve took the place of fear and anxiety. Disbelief had long since fled.

Standing up, she walked unseeing to the nearest tomb. It was firmly and permanently closed. Whoever was in there had been sealed in for good. Piper spread her hands out on the wall and felt all around the rectangular outline, pressing her fingers into the crumbling mortar edges. A smooth single stone had been fitted into the wall. She began to dig away at one corner, finding the old stone start to chip away in larger and larger chunks. Soon she would have an opening large enough to fit her hand through and then she would see if she could reach what she needed.

If not, she would keep digging away at the edges until the entire stone fell away. Sweat popped out on her brow, but she didn’t pause to wipe it away, just kept scratching away at the stone surface of the tomb. Closing her eyes helped her to work harder and she blindly clawed with her nails into the tiny crack she had opened, pulling and ripping.

An outside force tugged at her shoulders, coupled with a distant noise, like a cry from the bottom of a well. Piper tried to jerk away but it was adamantly opposed to her reaching her goal. No matter how hard she struggled, the vice-like grip on her shoulders kept trying to tear her from her purpose. The bones. If she had the bones she could call Daria here or go to where she was and kill the hell out of that witch. No amount of crying, pleading or pulling was going to keep her from that goal.

“Piper, please!”

The pleading grew louder in her ears and with one strong wrenching heave, she was dislodged from the cracks in the tomb. Evie shook her so that her head snapped back and thumped the wall, then pulled her toward her, almost cracking her spine with the strength of her hug.

Emotions drained out of her like a sickness passing as she stood stiffly in Evie’s arms, leaving her weak and embarrassed. She pulled away and looked around, then down at her hands, which were filthy and bleeding.

“Oh my God,” Piper said, wiping her hands on her skirt. She laughed shakily when she realized she’d come into the crypt in her pencil skirt and high heels, and … had she been digging at the wall? Evie was still holding onto her shoulders and crying. Ugly crying. “What happened?”

Evie wiped away her tears and took a deep breath. “Mellie saw you wander down here. She tried to call after you but you either didn’t hear her or you ignored her, so she came and got me.”

“Lachlan?” Piper said, scared of what he would think about her wandering the estate in a trance.

Bile rose in her throat, as she realized she had been wandering the estate in a trance. Again. She looked down at her hands and started shaking.

Evie shook her head. “He thinks we went for a walk,” she said, then looked like she might start crying some more. “I was yelling for you the whole time I was in here, didn’t you hear me?”

Piper shook her head. She hadn’t heard anything except the voice urging her to … She made a strangled noise and turned to look at the crypt. She had thought she was making such good progress, but she’d barely caused a few scratches in the edge of the stone. Her hands were far worse off than the tomb was. Evie took her hands and turned them over, looking at the ragged, bleeding nails.

“What were you trying to do?” she asked. Piper could tell by the look on her face that Evie had a good idea. They had discussed the bones just that afternoon, and Evie was far from stupid. “Were you trying to get—” she choked on what she had been about to ask and Piper looked away.

As sick as it made Evie, it made Piper that much sicker. She had tried to desecrate one of her ancestor’s graves. She had become a grave robber. The thing she was most afraid of seemed to be coming to pass. She was as evil as Daria. Her blood was as bad.

“Listen to me,” Evie said, roughly grabbing Piper’s chin and turning her face to her. “Stop whatever you’re thinking. Just stop.” Her voice was a shrill howl that echoed off the walls of the crypt, causing them both to jump. Evie laughed nervously and hugged Piper again. “I can tell what you’re thinking and here’s what I have to say about it. I had a bad feeling you might have kept that book the first time we all wanted you to destroy it, and it turns out it was probably good you didn’t.” She took a breath and pushed Piper away so she could look hard into her eyes. “But you were looking at it again, weren’t you?”

Piper should have told the truth and swore to let Evie destroy the diary the second they returned to the castle. She should have admitted everything.

“No,” she said, relieved to hear how convincing she sounded.

Evie made a face and shook Piper’s torn up hands. “You did this on your own?” she demanded. “Jesus, Pipes, were you trying to get bones out of that tomb?”

Evie’s devastated voice tore at Piper, but she knew she couldn’t allow the book to be destroyed yet. Not with Daria roaming free across time.

“I was thinking about how I wouldn’t be able to do the spell ever again,” she said weakly. “Lachlan was in the bath and the sound of the jets must have lulled me to sleep. I…I haven’t slept well since we got back. I must have been sleepwalking.” She blinked a few times up at Evie, almost believing it herself. She could tell the precise second that Evie relaxed and believed it too.

“Well, we need to get back before Lachlan comes out here swinging his axe. He’s been worried about you, too,” Evie said, taking her arm and leading her back out of the crypt.

Piper stifled a giggle at that and followed meekly. “There’s nothing to worry about, I promise,” she said. “I’ll just take something to make me fall asleep, okay?”

“Yes, you better. I can’t have you going psycho at your party tomorrow night.”

Piper suppressed a groan. She didn’t want the party in the first place, and that Evie and Mel had put it together so quickly didn’t give her any time to settle back in. But they were determined that she have one, and that no more time would be wasted.

They stopped at the archway leading up to one of the outer rooms when they both distinctly smelled smoke. With a shriek, Evie ran for the entrance, Piper close behind.

The entry room was lit up with the crackling flames of a small fire set near the doorway. Piper recoiled in frightened disbelief while Evie stamped on it until it went out. Coughing and spluttering, she nudged the thing that had been on fire with her toe.

“Looks like one of your cardigans,” she said, looking sadly at her ruined shoes. “Did you drop it here when you first came in?” She looked around the ground some more and found an overturned votive. “Good Lord. You could have been roasted alive down here.” She swallowed hard and continued kicking the charred sweater until it was out the door. They made sure it was no longer smoldering and headed back to the castle.

Piper acted like she had no recollection of taking off her sweater and carelessly dropping it on the ground near a candle. It would have been something a sleepwalker might do, but Piper knew she hadn’t been sleepwalking, knew she hadn’t been wearing that sweater and also knew it would take a lot more  than a cursed trance to make her drop one of her favorite cashmere cardigans on the ground.

She morosely followed Evie back up to the castle, feeling more angry by the second. Now that witch was messing with her wardrobe. Which meant she had been in the house at some point.

And you still don’t have the bones. The voice taunted her.

“Shut up,” she hissed, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

She had to be careful. Hearing the voice was bad enough. Responding to it was too much. Fortunately Evie didn’t turn around.  

In the kitchen Mellie was holding a baby monitor and pacing nervously back and forth.

Evie took the monitor and smiled reassuringly. “She was sleepwalking,” she said, leading Piper over to the sink.

Piper was too tired to fight her and let her scrub all the dirt and dried blood off her hands. She frowned down at the ragged nails and Evie sighed.

“I’ll get a manicure in the morning, don’t worry,” she said. “Your party won’t be spoiled by my savage hands.”

Evie grunted and tossed a dish towel at her. “It’s your party, not mine!” she said, her whole face collapsing into dismay. “I thought you were excited about it.”

Piper dried her hands and hugged Evie one last time. “I am excited about the party. I’m just overtired. You know you’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalker. Honestly, you’re lucky I didn’t have a heart attack.”

Evie spluttered and Piper escaped from the kitchen before she could come up with a response. Back in her room, Lachlan sat up in bed, worry creasing his brow. She hurried to his side and sat on the bed next to him, smoothing the troubled lines from his forehead.

“It’s all right,” she said. “Just Evie being a worry wart. I just needed some fresh air.”

She considered telling Lachlan about the fire, proof that Daria was about, but if he brought it up to Evie, then her story would fold in on itself. She wouldn’t be able to prove that she hadn’t set the fire herself out of carelessness. Frustrated, she bit her lip and scowled.

Lachlan pulled her close to his chest and inhaled deeply. “Ye smell like the crypt,” he said. “And a bonfire.”

She laughed into his chest. His superb senses would be what gave her away. “I wanted to visit Fenella,” she said. “I’ll go get a quick shower.”

He tightened his grip on her, sliding his hands lower. “I dinna mind,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

She tipped her face up so he would kiss her mouth and he readily obliged. Every last trace of the darkness and heaviness from whatever had goaded her into going to the crypt fell away in his embrace.

“Let’s never get out of this bed again,” she said against his lips. She was rewarded with his dimpled smile for her suggestion.

“I’m happy to do that,” he said, tugging her blouse out of her skirt and running his fingertips along her spine. “Shall your birthday well wishers come up here tomorrow and leave your gifts at the foot of the bed?” he teased, expertly snapping open her bra. It certainly hadn’t taken him too much practice to master that.

As his big hands slipped their way down her sides, she sighed peacefully and pushed herself up on her elbows so he could get her top off more easily. All her hair got pushed into her face as he pulled it over her head and he chuckled, pushing it behind her ears and stroking the sides of her face with his thumbs.

“Tell me,” she whispered when his eyes went a darker shade of blue.

“That ye are beautiful?” he asked, his lip quirking up on one side.

She poked him in the chest. “I guess, yes,” she pouted.

He pulled her face close and playfully swiped her nose with his, then kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue and making her forget everything but his hands and mouth, his heart beating rapidly against her own.

“I love ye, ye daft lass,” he said, breaking the kiss, his eyes twinkling midnight blue fire.

As he began working her skirt down over her hips, she promised herself that she would only concentrate on what was important. Lachlan. Here and now. Wasn’t that right? It was so easy to believe everything was fine when she was in his arms. She gave herself over to him.

As Bella cried into his shirt, he lay there, pain ravaged and weaker than a newborn kitten, but feeling something close to happiness. It was probably delirium.

“Don’t cry,” he said, patting her hair. He loved her hair, the reddish brown and gold strands slipping through his fingers as he consoled her. “It doesn’t matter.”

She sat up and hit him, punched him hard in the shoulder. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

“Once again, I don’t understand ye,” he said, closing his eyes to block out her angry glare. He wanted to think of her smiling sweetly down at him, like she’d done earlier, before she’d started crying. “First ye’re sad I may be dying, then ye’re beating the crap out of me.”

“Of course I’m sad ye’re ailing,” she said. Her hand was fluttering dangerously in the air over his shoulder and he used what was left of his strength to press himself into the couch to get away from her. She rolled her eyes and dropped her hand. “Ye are no’ dying,” she told him with conviction.

He shrugged. “Whatever ye say, Bella,” he agreed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s so. Whatever I say. And I say ye are no’ dying.” She got up and stomped to the fireplace, ruthlessly poking the logs so that the flames shot up, settling finally into a roaring blaze. “There.”