Beyond A Highland Whisper (17 page)

Mesmerized, Nessa’s irritation with Trish disappeared as she gazed into the swirling purple vortex. She cupped the globe between her hands and sank into its endless depths. Nothing else in the room existed. The whirling energy captivated her within its dancing lights.

Fiona elbowed Brodie and nodded toward Nessa. “Look at the aura. The light surrounds her. It’s as though the globe cradles her in its energy.”

With a nervous cough
as though to clear his throat, Brodie tapped the counter beside the globe. “What do ye think of our wee bauble here? It’s been in the MacKay family for years.”

Nessa tore her attention from the vibrating energy. She found it difficult to look up from the crystal orb. “Oh it’s…it’s lovely. I don’t know why but it seems to draw me into it. It’s as though the lights are dancing to some silent song.” She trailed her fingertips across the surface. Nessa smiled as the energy patterns changed with her touch. “Look! The lights are following wherever I touch. It’s almost as if it’s following my fingertips. How does it do that?” The glass felt warm. She swore it pulsed as though it had a heartbeat.

Brodie’s lips twitched. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never seen the globe react that way before. Not in all the years I’ve had it in my possession.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. Nessa touched the ball again. The light sprang from within its core in response to her touch. “Really? I wonder why it responds to me. You said it’s been in your family for years. What’s its story? Where did it originate?”

Fiona edged her way between Brodie and the counter. “They say it was given to Laird MacKay and his wife, Rachel, in the early 1400s. They were the laird and lady of clan MacKay at that time. The globe has been protected and passed down through the family since that era until it came to be Brodie’s and mine.”

The dancing lights entranced her senses. Nessa had to drag herself away from the counter. The globe drew her in. It mesmerized her and made her feel as if she floated on a cloud of purple down.

“It’s addictive. I could gaze into that thing forever. It’s so hypnotic. It’s almost as though it’s alive. Who gave it to Laird MacKay and his wife? Some sort of wizard maybe?”

Her fingers trembling, Fiona smoothed her hands across the top of the counter and dusted around the globe. “No one knows the true identity of the giver. That information seems to have been lost.” Brodie coughed and shuffled his feet, backing away from the edge of the counter.

Nessa couldn’t resist a mischievous grin at Fiona as she bent to retrieve her bag. “Wouldn’t it be great if it was like a genie’s lamp? We could just tell it our deepest desires and
poof
...our wildest dreams would come true.”

Brodie’s eyes bulged; he coughed and wheezed until tears streamed down his face.

“Brodie! Are you okay?” Nessa dropped her bag and rushed around the counter. Brodie’s face flamed a bright cherry red.

Thumping him on the back, Fiona waved her away. “Oh he’s fine. He just gets choked verra easily sometimes.” With a smile, she nodded in the direction of the globe. “Now wouldn’t that be grand if that crystal ball was just like you said! Our verra own wishing ball. Perhaps that’s what it was meant to be all along and it was just forgotten down through the passage of time.”

Fiona pulled a box of tissues from under the counter and shoved them into Brodie’s chest. Turning back to Nessa, her eyes sparkled and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And if it were such a magical thing? What would be one of your dearest wishes? What would ye ask of the ball?”

Nessa paused before hefting her bag up on her shoulder, half-tempted to play along. Wouldn’t it be great if she could wish her nocturnal Highlander into reality and fall right into his arms? Wouldn’t that be her lifelong dream come true? Who was she kidding? That’s the stuff fairy tales were made of. Her old self-preservation habits kicked in at the last minute and she recoiled back inside her carefully constructed shell. Settling her backpack on her shoulder, Nessa shuttered her emotions as well. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve pretty much got everything I need.”

Fiona’s face fell at Nessa’s reply. “Ah well…then ye truly are blessed. Ye not only have everything ye need but ye’re wise enough to know it.”

Sure she did. Nessa turned toward the door. She wasn’t about to share her deepest desires with the MacKays. They were a kind and generous couple who she felt certain would become friends. However, she just wasn’t ready to open up and bare her soul. She’d learned at a young age that when you shared your innermost thoughts and feelings it only exposed you to painful barbs. In her experience, Trish was the only person who’d never hurt her and she just wasn’t brave enough right now to enlarge that elite circle of trust.

Remembering the words of the mysterious woman at the goddess well, Nessa paused and turned back into the room. “By the way, do either of you happen to remember any stories about an ancestor of yours by the name of Latharn MacKay?”

A new fit of coughing seized Brodie, his hands flying to his chest as panic registered in his eyes. Fiona renewed her pounding on her husband’s back, her eyes wide as she replied, “Latharn MacKay? Why do ye ask? What have ye heard about the name?”

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 stirring 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 about 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 her 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’d 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?”

Chapter Eighteen

“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.”