Ramsay nodded while the pink tip of his tongue raced back and forth across his lower lip.
Trish’s conscience kicked into gear. What would it really hurt to let him try the spell? Either it would work and they’d end up in her room or he’d fail and they’d end up staring at each other across the wreckage in the gloomy library. Trish stuffed her hands deep into the back pockets of her jeans.Damn.She really needed to be the adult here and tell him no. Another look at the lad’s expectant face and a pang of guilt shot an arrow of sympathy straight through her heart. He already felt like she’d deserted him and stayed away too long. She knew he didn’t accept her excuse of a weak signal for all those unanswered text messages when her schedule had been so overloaded.
“I’d hate for ye to have to go through that dirty ole tunnel again.” Ramsay leaned forward and his eyes grew rounder. “I bet there’s even spiders in there.”
“Spiders, huh?” Trish bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Ramsay was pulling out all his ammunition. He knew how she hated spiders. She’d probably end up regretting this but how could she tell him no? Nessa would wring her neck if Latharn’s magic alarms went off and they got caught. Shifting her stance on the dusty floor, Trish nodded once in Ramsay’s direction. “I’ll make you a deal.”
Ramsay hopped off the stone and edged a bit closer.
Trish couldn’t squelch her amusement any longer. The look of anticipation lighting up the child’s face was more than she could bear. With a giggle, she reached out and ruffled his hair. “Oh, Ramsay. You’re such a little con artist. What would I do without you?”
“Ye’d be a very bored old woman,” Ramsay noted with a solemn nod.
With a playful cuff atop the boy’s head, Trish bent closer until the tip of her nose nearly touched his. “You call me an old woman one more time and I’ll leave you up here by yourself—without the aid of your spell.”
Ramsay wrapped his arms around Trish’s neck and snuggled his face against her cheek. “Ye know I love ye, Auntie Trish. I didna mean to call ye old.”
Her heart melted. Trish scooped the boy into a tighter embrace and planted a kiss atop his head. “You may be a little rat. But you’re the best rat I know. You know that?”
A muffled giggle rumbled against her neck as Ramsay nodded his head.
Might as well get it over with.Trish glanced at her watch. Surely, everyone else was asleep by now; even Latharn should be asleep over in Ireland. Ramsay could spell them down into her room and then take the tunnel back up to the tower and return to attacking his mess. “Okay, Ramsay. Here’s the deal. I’ll let you work your spell on the condition that once we travel back to my room, you come back up here and finish your assigned punishment.”
Ramsay stepped back, flattened his little hand over his heart and stood a bit taller. “I give ye my word as a MacKay.”
Holy cow.The boy sounded just like his father. Trish straightened her jacket and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.” She tapped a bright-red fingernail against the face of her watch. “You’ve got about forty-five minutes left in your Winter’s Solstice.”
“Gimme your hands.” Ramsay held both grubby hands palms up, his feet spread slightly apart beneath a dusty kilt hanging at a crooked angle about his tiny hips.
Taking a deep breath, Trish settled her fingertips into Ramsay’s damp little palms and forced a solemn look on her face. “Now what?” She needed to do this right. Poor Ram’s feelings had been bruised enough.
“Ye have to think about yer room.” Ramsay sniffed, eyed his sleeve then sniffed again as he returned his gaze to Trish’s face. “Sorry. I’ll blow it later.” Rubbing his cheek against his shoulder, he tightened his grip on Trish’s hands. “Close yer eyes and stay focused on the inside of yer bedroom. Then all ye gotta do is follow my lead. Do what I do and maybe say what I say. I don’t think ye’ll need to say anything but I’m not really sure. I’ll have to let ye know about that part as soon as I feel the energy. ’Kay?”
Trish closed her eyes, holding her breath against a mutinous giggle threatening to break free. “Got it.”
In a high-pitched voice that still managed to ring with authority, Ramsay swung their clasped hands higher into the air and guided them both into a slow-moving clockwise circle. “By the power of time, by the strength of space, take us to my loved one’s place.”
Trish kept her eyes closed; a chill shivered across her skin as Ramsay chanted the rhyme. She cracked one eyelid open and stole a peek. Nothing. They still stood in the center of the destroyed library. Still moving in the slow circle, she fully opened her eyes. “Maybe you need to say it again. Isn’t there something about doing everything in threes?”
“Auntie Trish. I wasnotfinished.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Trish tightened her eyes shut along with her mouth.Come on, powers. Give the kid a break. He’s had a rough day.Trish matched Ramsay’s careful shuffle as they continued moving in a slow circle.
“By the power of time, by the strength of space, take us to my loved one’s place.” Ramsay raised his voice this time, matching his steps and the swing of their hands with the cadence of the rhyme. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath.
“Ram?”
“Sorry.” Ramsay heaved an irritated sigh. “It shouldha worked by now. I can’t figure out what’s gone wrong.”
Poor little guy. Trish’s heart ached. She swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders with renewed determination. Even if Ramsay’s spell didn’t work; he at least had to know that she believed in him. Maybe she should give the chant a go. “By the power of time, by the strength of space, take us to my loved one’s place.” As an afterthought, she added a few lines she’d once heard Latharn use. “For the good of all, and with harm to none, so let it be spoken, so let it be done.”
“Holy crap! That’s it, Auntie Trish!”
A moaning roar blasted into the room, whirling around them with a gale force wind that threw them against the farthest wall. Trish grabbed Ramsay, sheltering him against her chest as their bodies flew higher into the air. Snugging her cheek against the top of the child’s head, Trish struggled to open her eyes enough to see what was happening. Brilliant flashes of blue-white light forced her to bury her face in his hair, squinting them shut against the blinding arc.
The squalling energy rose to a high-pitched scream. Trish’s heart hammered into her throat. The erratic rush of blood pounding in her ears drowned out all other sound. The force of the storm tore against her body, felt as if it was about to tear her flesh from her bones. If she survived this Pandora’s box, she’d paddle Ramsay’s butt herself.
The sound disappeared just as quickly as it had exploded into the room. The last of the gust crashed them against the stone wall before dropping them to the floor. Trish clutched Ramsay atop her body, his limp weight resting heavily against her chest. Squeezing her hands up and down his arms, Trish forced herself not to panic. Ram was entirely too still. A warm sticky wetness trickled down the side of her face as a sharp pain burst through the base of her skull.
