The lights in the sphere danced into hyper-drive. The agitated energy of the orb bounced off the walls, reflecting off every item lining the shelves. Nessa dropped her bag back to the floor and stared at the vibrating globe. She edged her way toward the counter. Uneasiness stirred in the pit of her stomach. Her skin tingled at the reaction of the lights.
“Latharn MacKay,” she whispered, leaning closer. She waited for the globe’s response. Violent purple energy shot from the globe. It crackled and filled the entire room.
“Look at that. It’s like the light responds to his name,” Nessa whispered and spun on her heel. Watching the frustrated energy spark about the room, she grew breathless with anticipation. It bounced from the windows to the ceiling, to the floor, and on every reflective surface in between. Her skin tingled with excitement; every hair stood on end as Nessa called out to the traveling light. “Latharn MacKay, are you in this room?”
The energy responded and concentrated into one spot. It caressed and swirled around her body. A familiar stroke brushed her cheek. Nessa recognized the warmth of this touch. This comforting embrace had pleasured her many times from her Highlander in her dreams.
“You’re real,” Nessa whispered, a shiver of recognition rippling across her skin. “You’re not just in my dreams.”
The aura surrounded her, swirling, touching. The essence warmed gentle feather strokes against her skin, swaddling her in a cloud of vibrating color. The cursed globe sat poised, squatted on its pedestal, the colors flowing freely from its center.
Her heart hammering so hard she couldn’t breathe, Nessa fought against rising hysteria. Backing away from the ball, apprehension churned inside her like a mounting storm. In all her years, in all her finds, she’d never come across any artifact as powerful as this crystal appeared.
“What is this thing?” She nudged her chin in the direction of the globe as she stole a glance at Brodie and Fiona.
Shaking their heads, they remained silent. They just stood there, mouths clamped shut, watching Nessa and the globe.
Nessa gritted her teeth, trying to remember to breathe as she edged her way toward the door. Whatever was happening with the wildly glowing crystal, it was eerie and she wanted it to stop.
Fiona recognized that Nessa was about to bolt. She rushed from around the counter to pat her on the arm. “It’s all right, Nessa. Dinna fear. It’s just a wee energy ball that reacts to the static in the room. If ye look out the door, ye will see it’s about to storm. We figured that out a few years back when we first brought it into our home.”
Glancing out the window, Nessa almost wilted at the sight of the darkening clouds. Fiona was right. Nessa blew out a breath of relief as lightning splintered through the blackened banks of thunderheads. She spun on her heel and shot Brodie a withering glare as she poked a finger in his chest with every word. “Then why did you say you had never seen it respond to anyone’s touch like it did mine? Out with it, Brodie!”
Brodie backed away and struggled to apologize. “I was merely teasing ye. ’Twas just a wee bit of Scottish superstition meant to lighten your day. Forgive me, Nessa, I meant ye no harm.”
Nessa scooped her bag up and slung it over her shoulder. “Oh, ha ha. Let’s make a sucker out of the silly American. Very funny.” With a yank on the door, she laughed at herself and the tension eased out of her chest. “If Trish shows back up any time soon, tell her I’ve decided to take a cab to the dig. She can pick me up there and then we’ll go over to the pub and finish off Mr. Gabriel Burns.”
As Nessa stepped out into the street, she cringed as lightning pealed down through the clouds. It struck so close the air reeked of sulfur. Leaning against the doorway, Nessa covered her ears against the deafening thunderclap that shook the ground. A tree split in front of her, bursting into flames as each half crashed to the ground. Pinned back against the building, she wiggled her way back to the door and slipped her way inside.
“Are ye all right?” Fiona rushed to her side, grabbing her shoulders as she searched Nessa’s pale face.
Nessa nodded as she brushed the singed leaves from her hair and blew a burnt leaf off the end of her nose. “Whew! I’ve always loved thunderstorms but that one was a little close for comfort. Looks like I’ll be waiting for Trish here in the shop.”
Just at that moment, Trish pulled up in the jeep and parked it a good distance from the burning tree. She fanned the smoke out of her face as she slipped into the shop. Motioning toward the blaze, she brushed the ash from her clothes. “Have you guys called the fire department yet?”
Brodie shook his head as he looked out the window. “No need. The rain is dousing the flames. ’Tis coming down in sheets.”
With the downpour and the water rising in the storm drains, Nessa tossed her bag onto the floor with a sigh. They weren’t going anywhere in this weather. The trip to the pub was out. She turned to the MacKays and Trish with a shrug of her shoulders. “Anybody want to play cards?”
ChapterEighteen
“You had her that close and you couldn’t trick her into saying it? You couldn’t get her to call him out of that ball?” Trish paced back and forth in front of Brodie and Fiona, then turned and tapped on the top of Latharn’s sphere. “And you! They said you frightened her. Maybe if you had toned down the light show a little bit she wouldn’t have headed for the door. Did you ever think of that?”
Latharn bellowed from his crystal cell, sending the lasers cutting across the walls. “I will not be spoken to in such a manner.” He rumbled the globe across the table, disappeared, and reappeared on a shelf across the room. He didn’t care if Trish was Nessa’s best friend or not. The woman would not scold him as though he were a child. Latharn glared at them from across the room. He would watch them from the mantel above the fireplace.
Brodie pounded his fist on the table and made his own defense to Trish. “We dared not speak any more than we did for fear of sending Latharn’s soul into the abyss.” Raking his hands through his red hair, he jumped to stalk about the room.
Latharn sympathized with his descendant. Trish obviously understood very little about Scottish curses. One wrong word, one wrong move and your arse sizzled in eternal hell.
Trish resumed her pacing, while massaging her temples. “Is this curse written down in some ancient text somewhere? Maybe recorded in a family journal? Or were all the details just passed down word of mouth from one generation to the next?”
Latharn spun the globe to improve his view and leaned against the glass. What was Trish looking for? They already knew how to break the curse. Nessa had to whisper his release. “Why do ye want the texts, Trish? What good will reading the grimoire do?”
Brodie jerked his chin toward the globe. “I agree with Cousin Latharn. I see no point in reviewing the curse, but we do have it recorded here. There’s an ancient journal written in Rachel MacKay’s own hand listing everything she discovered about the curse. But I don’t see what good it will do to go over it again. ’Tis just a waste of time.”
Trish’s eyes narrowed into plotting slits as she leaned back into her chair. “The way I figure it, a curse is like a contract. All we have to do is find the loophole. I handle all the contracts for our digs. The contract lawyers hate me. I have a knack for seeing loopholes.” She offered a saucy smirk.
“This is no contract, Trish. It’s a complicated curse spelled by a powerful darkbana-buidhseach.” Fiona handed each of them a cup of tea from the tray she balanced on one hip.
