“Oh, it gets better.” Trish snorted, plopping back down at the table. “He blackmailed Fiona, saying the only way he wouldn’t charge Brodie with assault was if she kept her mouth shut about his part of the abuse.”
“What a jackass.” Nessa huffed. Thank goodness she’d avoided the vicious bastard. A shiver of disgust rippled over her body. She thought back over all she’d found on the Internet and her conversation with Aveline. Nessa drummed her fingers on the table and studied Trish’s still-flushed face. She wondered just how open Trish would be if she told her everything she knew.
She and Trish had been friends for years. She understood Trish’s intense hatred for Gabriel because of his treatment of Fiona, and she would bet his abuse of countless other women. Trish had only been twenty years old when she’d been beaten and mutilated by a college acquaintance. That was how she and Nessa had met, their friendship forged by that traumatic event.
Nessa had decided to take a shortcut back to her apartment that evening long ago. She’d just finished one of her kickboxing classes on campus and was on her way home from the session. She’d heard a muffled shriek come from a darkened outbuilding and had recognized it as a call for help.
The adrenaline pumping through her veins had made her forget she was barely five feet tall and on a good day pushed the scale to within a shadow of a hundred pounds. Nessa had kicked her way into the building and followed the sound of the weakening cries. She’d rushed to find Trish cringing in a bloody huddle, her assailant looming over her with an upraised knife. Nessa had grabbed a broken board off the floor, not noticing the jagged roofing nail sticking out of the end. She’d connected the board with the base of the attacker’s skull with all the might her adrenaline fueled.
The man had died a few days later. He’d never awakened from the coma. There weren’t any charges because Trish had mumbled through a broken jaw that Nessa had saved her life.
“I really hate it when your eyes glaze over like that, especially when you’re staring at me as though I’m a rare and exotic beast.” Trish banged her soda can on the table in front of Nessa.
“Sorry. I was just thinking,” Nessa mumbled, tracing her fingertip around the top of her soda can. With an arched brow at Trish, she leaned forward and dropped her voice to an excited whisper. “How would you like to hear something so weird you’re going to think I’ve finally gone over the edge?”
With a grin, Trish leaned forward to meet Nessa halfway across the table and propped her chin in her hand. “Try me.”
Nessa took a deep breath and prepared to tell her tale. She spread her hands on the table in front of her. Leaning forward just a bit, she struggled to control the tremble in her voice as she glanced at the door joining their room to the MacKays’ private residence.
“I met Rachel MacKay in the woods by a spring. Or should I say…I met her ghost, even though I didn’t realize who or what she was at the time.”
Nessa waited for Trish’s reaction. Nothing. Trish just sat there and stared at her. Nessa frowned. She raised her voice and leaned in closer, her fingertips curled into her palms. Trish would react when she told her the rest of the story. “She told me the Highlander in my dreams is Latharn MacKay and that I should never fear him. I didn’t find out until today that Latharn MacKay is her son.”
Trish frowned just a bit. She rubbed her chin, tapping her bottom lip as she spoke. “How exactly did you find out that Latharn MacKay is her son if you didn’t know who she was when you were talking to her?”
Nessa leaned in closer, propping her chin in both hands. She paused to build the suspense, watching Trish’s face. Her friend was taking this information entirely too well. “Her immortal daughter, Aveline, told me who she was when she appeared in the car with me on the way home.”
Trish continued rubbing her chin. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. The ghost of Rachel MacKay appeared to tell you the man in your dreams is her son, Latharn MacKay, but you didn’t know who she was or that he was her son until you talked to…did you say the immortal daughter, Aveline?”
Nessa struggled against the sly smile tickling at her lips and waited for Trish to demand she quit joking around. Any minute now Trish would explode. She knew Trish would think she was crazy. It was a good thing she’d never had a history of alcohol or Trish would accuse her of tying one on. She gave Trish two thumbs up and a wink as she replied, “I’m impressed. It took me a couple of times to get it figured out but it sounds like you’ve connected the dots the first time around.”
Nessa leaned back in her seat and waited for what she was positive would be Trish’s traditional reply of, “Bullshit!”
Trish took a deep breath and stared at her hands as she chewed on her lower lip. “Well what else did Rachel and Aveline tell you?”
Nessa couldn’t believe it. Why was Trish acting so weird? She wasn’t even reacting! “They both told me even though Latharn is forbidden to speak to me in my dreams, if I’ll look into his heart, I’ll know the truth.”
Nessa folded her hands on the table and tilted her head to one side. “Pretty unbelievable, huh? What do you think?” If Trish didn’t give her a reaction pretty soon, she was going to reach across the table and smack her. She wasn’t being any fun at all.
Trish rubbed her nose. She drummed her fingers on the table. “Oh, hell. I give up. It’s time to tell you.” Trish slammed her hands on the table. “They couldn’t tell you anything else because they were forbidden. If they broke the rules, Latharn’s soul would burn in the eternal abyss. The curse says that any person of MacKay blood or marriage must not help you in your quest.” Trish buried her face in her hands.
“My quest?” Nessa repeated. She waited for Trish to look her dead in the eye so she could figure out if she was pulling some sort of practical joke. This was not the reaction she’d anticipated from her flamboyant friend. “My quest for what?”
Trish rose from the table and motioned for Nessa to follow as she headed for the MacKays’ adjoining door. “Follow me and I’ll show you. Since I’m in no way related to the MacKays, I’m pretty sure it’s safe for me to tell you what you need to know.”
Nessa’s heart fluttered and her mouth went dry. What was Trish talking about? Nessa reminded herself to breathe. She followed Trish into the MacKays’ drawing room.
There sat Brodie and Fiona as though they’d been waiting for her arrival. On the table between them sat the violet sphere. The orb bathed the entire room in an eerie light.
“Have ye told her?” Brodie searched their faces as he rose from his chair.
“Not yet.” Trish pointed to a chair on the other side of the table and motioned for Nessa to sit. “Latharn MacKay lived in the year 1410 until he was cursed by an evil sorceress from a neighboring clan. It appears he was quite talented at pleasing the ladies but when he didn’t fall in love with the witch, she decided to make him pay.”
Nessa glanced around the room at the anticipation shining on everyone’s faces. Trish’s words played right along with everything else she’d learned today. Nessa had an uneasy feeling about where Trish might be headed with her tale.
“And just exactly how did she curse him? Did she send him to some mystical plane where he can only wander through people’s dreams?”
Trish shook her head. She slid the crystal orb across the table until it was sitting mere inches from Nessa’s face.
