“Tell me about prison.”
“Prison?”
He had the audacity to look confused. But she wasnae the fool he kenned her to be. Folding her arms, she shifted her weight, determined not to wince or reveal any more weakness.
“Aye. Ye’ve alluded tae as much, here and there. Or did ye ken me incapable of putting the pieces together? Mayhap ye’re not as clever as ye think?”
“I hope tae be clever enough tae remember such a plight as that,” he replied, still looking lost. “Whatever made ye think such a thing?”
“Oh, I dinnae ken, exactly. Mayhap…ye beingstucksomewhere for what felt like centuries. And ye andthe lads, staying with someone named Wickham after yerrelease, and him helping ye find yer way in thisnew worldye’ve emerged intae.The way ye appreciate food like ye’ve had an unsatisfied hunger for far too long. And most of all, theamazing lasswho made it all possible by sacrificing everything to ensure yerfreedom. Ye remember, the one ye’ll ne’er be able tae pay back? The one who has yernever-ending devotion?”
“Soni?”
Kenna lifted an eyebrow.
Sean stared at her for several seconds, his face unreadable. “Aye. I guess ye could say Soni’s sacrifice paid for my release from prison. But ’tis no’ the kind of prison ye’re thinkin’ of. ’Twas Culloden Moor I was trapped on for near three centuries. And yes, food did—does—taste mighty good after so long a fast.”
“Culloden Moor is—”
“Nae.” Sean held up his palm. “Let me finish. I asked ye for the truth. Now I’ll give ye mine and ye can do wi’ it what ye will.” He took a single step closer, pierced her with a look she hadnae seen before. One of pure anguish and loss. “Idiedin the battle of Culloden Moor on April 16thin the year 1746, at the hands of a Hanoverian soldier.”
He yanked the top of his long-shirt open to reveal a long scar at the bast of his throat. “ ’Twas a bullet in my side, that felled me. But ’twas that soldier’s bayonet that silenced me as I lay squirmin’ in the mud.”
He paced a few steps away then turned to face her again. “For some reason, 79 of us dinnae cross over upon death. We rose on that same moor, one at a time, mere shadows of ourselves. I was number 63. We were all ghosts, condemned tae haunt that tormented plain year after year, century after long, endless, century.”
Kenna stared at him, unable to fully comprehend what he was saying. She may have stumbled through some kind ofdisruptionin time, but she wasnae claiming to be a ghost, reborn.Thatwas preposterous! She wanted to turn away from such a ridiculous tale, but something on his face rooted her to the spot.
Shrugging, Sean shook his head. “I cannae explain how a wee bairn finally came along who could actually see us, hear us, when no one else could in all that time. But Soncerae did. Her parents began bringing her to visit the moor as a babe and returned with her, year after year. She kenned us, every time. As it turned out, she comes from a long line of Muir witches.” He glanced at Kenna. “Wickham is her uncle.”
Witches?Afraid to take her eyes off him, she managed a step back as a quiver began in her belly.
Incredulously, Sean smiled—soft and reminiscent—as he continued. “The whole of The 79 watched wee Soni grow up, as smitten and committed tae her as if she were our very own bairn. And ’twas clear she loved each of us, in return. As she grew, so did her skills. Always used for good. ’Twas no’ in her tae do otherwise.”
He rubbed the scar at the base of his neck, seemingly lost in another world. “When she was but fifteen years of age, she decided tae use her powers tae release us from our bondage on the moor. One by one, she began choosing one o’ the lads, and offering them two days of mortality for a chance tae do an honorable deed.”
Sean looked up at her and smiled as if ’twas a normal occurrence. ’Twas clear, even if his tale wasnae true, he believed it.
“A heroic deed could win them a boon,” he continued, “allowing them tae finally cross over. Or…as some had vowed tae do, they could trade that boon for an opportunity tae face Bonnie Prince Charlie for his betrayal of the Jacobites at Culloden. Many had sworn tae revenge his cowardly actions that led to the deaths of so many.”
Kenna studied Sean with new eyes. Could it be possible? A few weeks ago, she’d have called what happened to her, ludicrous. If what he spoke of really happened, his past had been as terrifying as her own. But, if ’twas true, how had he arrivedhere? Had he passed through time, as well? Was thishischance at mortality? Histwo days?She cringed at the thought. If so, he’d already wasted one of them onher.
“Ultimately,” Sean continued, pulling her from her thoughts, “Soni sacrificed everything for us. We kenned she paid a price for each ghost she released, but we dinnae fully understand the complete cost. So many remained on the moor, tae be helped. Too many. So, she gave up all her power, forever, for the release of the remaining lads—all at once—from the moor and from our ghostly forms. With her sacrifice, she gave those of us still waiting, mortality.”
Straightening to his full height, he faced Kenna, conviction stamped on his face. “So, aye, I owe Soncerae. I honor her. And I’d do anything for her.”
Speechless, still trying to absorb and make sense of all Sean just told her, Kenna made her way to the sofa and dropped onto it. ’Twould seem she wasnae the victim of a single random wrinkle in the universe, after all. Apparently, there were many.
She shivered at the thought. She’d believed there were norealwitches. That ’twas all just superstition, fear, and hoaxes. But if Sean was truthful, and witches and wizards did exist and were imprisoned with her mither and sister, they might well practice the dark arts. And if one did, they’d all be blamed. They couldnae all be like Soni and use their power only for good. A new dread slithered through her. The chances of her family being executed were stronger than ever.
“What I’m tryin’ tae say, Kenna,” Sean continued, coming to sit beside her, “is all witchcraft isnae bad. ’Tis how ye use it, that counts. Just like ’tis how all mortals choose tae use their talents. Having them doesnae make us bad. ’Tis only if we do bad things with them. ’Tis the same with magic, or witchcraft, or whatever ye wish tae call it. Soni cannae be blamed for being born with magical skills any more than ye can be blamed for being born with that bonny red hair I cannae stop staring at, or touching.”
He brushed a lock from her cheek. “I wasnae accusing ye, or yer family of anything evil. I was merely asking if they, or ye, had powers that might help get them out o’ the trouble ye say they’re in.”
“Nae,” Kenna whispered, trying to swallow past the lump of fear and panic clogging her throat. “None. But for the first time in my life,I wish I truly was a witch.”
Chapter Nine
“Ye wereaidedthen, just as I was, by the help of a witch—or wizard—tae travel from yer century, tae this?” Sean queried, hoping to better understand Kenna’s plight. “Mayhap they could aid yer family or help ye return, if ’tis yer wish.”
