Tea. Latharn cringed. They should drink ale or at the very least mulled wine when they plotted a battle. Now, what had Trish said about contracts and curses?
“You’ve obviously never been around many contract lawyers,” Trish retorted with a grin. “So, have you got this journal here or what? Is there any way I could get a look at it or is it locked away in someone’s library?”
With a shrug of agreement from Fiona, Brodie ceased his restless pacing and headed to the built-in bookshelves lining the opposite wall of the room. He pushed aside several trinkets and baubles to reveal the combination lock of a safe. Brodie unlocked the safe and swung the door aside. He lifted a leather-bound book from the box.
Latharn stared at the journal from across the room and drew a ragged breath. The sight of the book nearly knocked the wind from his chest. It had been one of his mother’s last grimoires. They had spoken every day until the morning before she’d leapt to her death. He’d pleaded with her not to take her life. Latharn choked against the painful memory of her final words. She had told him she couldn’t bear life without Caelan. Latharn had never understood the depths of her pain until he’d found his Nessa.
Brodie set the book on the table in front of Trish. “This is the last journal of Rachel MacKay. The faded purple ribbon marks the passage about Latharn’s curse.”
Trish held her hands over the well-worn book. As she opened the journal to the designated spot, Latharn watched her mouth drop open in surprise. “This is in English. Modern English. Is this supposed to be some kind of hoax? I thought you said this came from the 1400s.”
Brodie MacKay hissed as he turned from the window. “Rachel MacKay was not from the past. She was a time traveler from the year 2008.”
Trish’s hands dropped into her lap as she leaned back in her chair. “What you’re saying can’t possibly be true. This MacKay history just keeps getting wilder. How could a woman from the year 2008 be the mother of a man from 1410? You cannot be serious.”
“I can and I am,” Brodie challenged, his chin jutting into the air.
“He speaks the truth,” Latharn added from his globe shimmering on the shelf.
Fiona stepped between them shaking her head, holding up her hands for silence. “It’s a long story, Trish, that of Rachel and Caelan and how they came to be joined. Suffice it to say, they were meant to be together and nothing, not even time or space, could ever keep them apart.”
“Trish,” Latharn said. “Sometimes knowing in your heart is all that matters. There are many things in this world and beyond that are yet to be explained.”
Her eyes widened in amazement. Trish looked up from the journal, disbelief written on her face. “This story just keeps getting better. Time travelers, witches, and cursed Highlanders in a ball. Is there anything else I need to know?”
Fiona pointed at the faded words upon the page. “That should just about cover it. Now can ye read Rachel’s inscriptions? The dark outline, there. That surrounds the part about the curse.”
Trish leaned closer to study the faded pages. She ran her finger back and forth just above the words, keeping space between herself and the yellowed page. “Okay. Here’s the part about Latharn not being allowed to speak to Nessa so that he can’t tell her how to break the curse.”
Latharn watched impatiently as her lips moved while she read.
“And here’s the part about no one of MacKay descent being allowed to tell her how to break the curse.” Her mouth fell open. Trish lifted her head. “I can tell her.”
“No.” Brodie’s hands clenched into fists. “Ye will shatter the crystal and Latharn will be lost. Ye must not break the terms.”
For the first time in centuries, hope surged through Latharn’s body at the excitement in Trish’s voice.
“Don’t you see, Brodie? I am not of MacKay descent. Therefore, it doesn’t apply to me.” Trish eased the book closed as she hastened to explain, “Only those of the MacKay line are forbidden to reveal the way to Nessa’s true love. I’m a mutt. I traced my family tree once and trust me, there’s not a drop of Scottish blood flowing in these veins.”
“It canna be that simple.” Fiona dropped into a chair. “Then we wasted our chance. I could’ve told the lass yesterday when she was so close to calling him out.”
Trish shook her head, in disagreement. “No. You did the right thing by keeping the pact and holding your tongue. When you married Brodie, technically, you became a MacKay. If you had said any more to Nessa then what I understood you to say, the crystal would’ve disintegrated along with his soul.”
Latharn shouted, “Then go get her! What the hell are ye waiting for?” He beat on the glass, rattling the globe across the length of the mantel. Could it be this simple? Could Nessa’s friend tell her what she needed to do?
Brodie grabbed Trish by the arm, pulling her out of the chair. “Do as he says. Go to her then. Tell the woman. Let this damnable curse be at an end.”
Trish shook her head and remained in her seat. She picked up her tea and took a sip as she studied the sphere upon the shelf. She set the delicate china cup back in its saucer and ran one finger around the rim of the cup. “No. We still have to play this out just right. If we spook Nessa, she’ll never break the curse. She’ll be especially leery after Latharn’s visitation at the car wreck and the nightmares she had afterward. She’s just now beginning to calm down again. He must’ve smoothed things over in another dream. He’s been trapped in there for almost six hundred years; a few more days will just have to do.”
“Are ye insane? Have ye any idea how long six hundred years can be?” Latharn roared and pelted the room with energy blasts until they dove beneath the table. “Just explain it to her and she will be fine. Just tell her. Once I’m out, I will soothe things over.”
“Don’t you remember how spooked she was after
the car wreck and the nightmare she had that night? Remember how nervous she got when she thought the orb was you…she almost ran out of the shop yesterday just from the light show you put on. We have to take this slow,” Trish shouted at him from underneath her chair. “Nessa has trouble accepting the supernatural. Think about it, Latharn.”
The room fell silent. Latharn scowled from his prison and glared at Trish as she opened one eye.
“Is it safe to come out?”
