The Parchment Scroll (3 page)

“I canna’ open the Faery Stones without yer help.”

“What?”

Jules couldn’t quit shaking her head, even as they trudged away from their little illegal trespassing venture to the private Clan MacLeod cemetery. “What now?” She jogged to catch up to Bree, who was walking faster despite the too-big boots.

“I need ta go home.”

“Why so urgent? Can’t hack the twenty-first century?”

Bree paused to throw a glare at her. “I doona’ belong here.”

“Claire—if any of this crap is true—doesn’t belong in 1672, either.”

“She does now. She found love. Wed the laird.” Her voice broke, and those dark eyes clouded.

Jules’ gut said Bree lost someone close to her, but if so, why was she in such a hurry to get back? Wouldn’t it make more sense to run from the pain?

Then again, there’s a huge difference in our times, even the basic stuff. I mean, if she’s not lying.

The woman opened and closed her fists, holding them tight to her sides. Grief flipped to anger and slid across Bree’s face, but she schooled her expression so fast, Jules could’ve been seeing things, even if her police instincts noted it.

“You okay?”

A nod was all the response she got, then Bree clunked through the ground cover, until fields bled into sand and rock. They were headed toward the beach.

Jules could hear the waves crashing, and crisp sea air teased her nose. “It really is beautiful here,” she whispered.

“I prefer the Emerald Isle, meself.”

“Of course, we’re always partial to our homeland.”

Again, Bree nodded and silence fell, except for the
swoosh-swoosh
of her pants, and their collective boots crunching pebbles.

“Where are we going?” Jules asked after they’d jumped down an incline and hit deeper sand. Wind blew her hair in her face and she tossed her pony tail over her shoulder. Wisps of hair that’d escaped tickled her forehead but she ignored the urge to shove them away.

“The Faery Stones.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t matter that Bree had explained what the supposed portal was.

God, I’ve lost it.

On the other hand, had she really?

It wasn’t like she believed any of Bree’s crap.

Then why are you following her like a lost puppy?

Hanging on her every word?

“I’m not hanging on her every word,” Jules whispered.

“Pardon?” Bree glanced over her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

A dark eyebrow arched, but soon she was discarded, and the Irish woman traipsed on.

“How am I supposed to help you, anyway?” Jules asked.

“I canna’ open the Faery Stones withou’ ye.”

“Pardon?” she plucked the word Bree had used earlier.

No answer.

Irritation rose from her gut as she followed Bree. But her desperation was equal, so what could Jules really do?

She didn’t believe any of this stuff, so what harm could come from sticking around just a little while longer?

They walked down the beach until Jules’ calves burned from exertion. She bit back the ‘
are we there yet?’
playing on the tip of her tongue.

When Bree finally stopped, it was too-quick and Jules almost plowed the shorter woman over. “Geez, maybe you should warn a chick,” she muttered.

The woman threw her an apologetic look. “Sorry, when I leave fer a while, I always have ta seek the Stones out again. Somethin’ of the protection spell must remain. The location is hazy until I am standin’ a ’fore it.”

She didn’t answer as Bree slid forward toward a crack in the cliff side in front of them. The Irish chick felt around, both palms to the rock.

A gull screeched overhead and Jules glanced over her shoulder to watch it swoop down to the choppy water. Another bird answered the call and joined the fishing expedition. She jumped when Bree called her name.

Bree gestured and Jules forced one combat boot in front of the other to answer the woman’s beck and call, chiding herself at the same time. “Where are we going?”

Irritation flashed in Bree’s dark eyes. “The Faery Stones, as I’ve told ye.”

“Where exactly are they?”

“Inside. Come forth.” As she spoke, Bree inched into the crack in the cliff wall. She turned sideways, but there was some clearance in front of her body.

“Inside?”

“’Tis a cave.” Her words echoed as she moved forward.

“A cave. What about…animals? I’m not going in there.” Jules groaned. Whining wasn’t her style.

Man up, and get this shit done.

Maybe I can check Bree into the psych ward when we’re done, and manage to
not
fill the bed next to hers.

She slipped her backpack off. Wouldn’t fit through the narrow opening wearing it. She unzipped the small pocket in the front, grabbing her flashlight and grumbling as she followed.

“’Tis safe,” Bree called. Her voice sounded deeper, but clear. She said nothing more, but Jules could hear the scrape of her boots on the ground.

Water dripped from somewhere in front of them, echoing as Jules entered darker territory. She let the beam of her light lead the way, and the path opened up after a few feet. Air fluffed the wisps of hair around her face, so there was probably a crack or entrance on the other side, though she couldn’t see much, including Bree.

The further she went, the more space she had to move around. The place was sizable, with a humid warmth that made her skin prickle, but the air smelled clean, not dank.

“Bree?”

“Here.”

Jules zoned in on the voice.

Bree was flitting around the cave, lighting candles. “The cave looks different in my time, but it’s as large as then. The entrance has changed. Was much wider.”

“It’s been a long time, probably erosion.”

“Erosion?” She paused, holding one candle above the other. They looked as if they were modern-day stick-candles found at any department store, but Jules didn’t ask how Bree had gotten them.

“Natural wearing, from weather and stuff.” Jules looked around as her eyes adjusted to the dimness, scanning the open space.

For a cave, it looked lived-in.

“I doona’ have much, but—”

“You’ve been living here? Sleeping here?” Jules frowned. Blankets were piled in one corner of the cavern.

“Aye. I’ve nowhere else ta’ go.” Bree’s voice shook. Nervous, in a way that belied the confidence she’d displayed since they’d met.

Jules
almost
felt bad for her. “So where are these Stones you’ve been talking about all day?”

“There.” Bree gestured to the left.

“Geez, how did I miss them?” she whispered, inspecting the odd sight before her.

Five stalagmites rose from the cave-floor, one in the center of a semi-circle of the other four, and a few inches taller than the rest. That wasn’t the weird part—after all, they
were
in a cave.

The semi-circle was perfect, as if it had been placed there, not grown. And each of the natural pillars had a large crystal on top of it. Actually, the crystal
was
the top of the stalagmite, as if the formation had melded into a crystal as it’d grown.

“Weird.”

“Faery Stones.” Bree’s voice held reverence. Her chest rose and fell as if she panted and her hands opened and closed at her sides.

“You okay?”

“Aye.” She fidgeted in her too-big clunky boots.

“You sure?”

Bree nodded. “I will get home, with yer help.”

“And I’ll get my sister with yours.”

“Aye.” The Irish woman smiled. Too bad the wild look in her eyes offset it. Screamed
crazy.

“There you go again, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs just when I think you could be normal.”

Shoulders tight, Bree cocked her head to one side. “What?”

“Never mind. What’s the next step?”

“I am goin’ ta open the Stones.” Bree darted forward, whispering something Jules didn’t catch. She caressed the crystal in the middle, then tapped the others in what had to be some pattern. The woman crooned to each one.

Jules rolled her eyes.

Really, this chick is nuts.

“I need ye ta’ come here,” Bree said after several minutes of repeating her actions with no result Jules could see.

“Oh yeah? What for?”

The woman frowned, but said nothing.

Jules sighed and approached the stalagmites. She buried her hand in her jeans’ pocket, squeezing the small scroll when she found it.

“Touch tha crystal in the middle, then the others, right ta left one after ‘nother.”

She did as she was told.

Nothing.

Bree made a noise deep in her throat. “It
has
ta work this time.”

Jules didn’t answer, but saw frustration in her companion’s eyes when their gazes met.

“Let us try together,” Bree declared.

Shrugging, Jules followed Bree’s lead when the woman touched the Stones in order again, one of her hands on each Stone when Jules’ fingers rested there at the same time.

Humming startled her. It too was a pattern, one echoing the other in order. “Oh my God, is that
from
the crystals?”

“Aye. Do it again.” Bree’s words were rushed. Beads of sweat bathed her forehead.

She didn’t argue, nor did she fight the Irish woman when Bree took one of her hands in hers, moving in the pattern and chanting louder.

Wind kicked up from nowhere, knocking Jules’ backpack over with a
thump.
But Bree had her hand, so she couldn’t grab it if she wanted to. “What’s happening?”

“It’s workin’!” Bree had to shout above the whistling gale.

The crystal beneath their joined hands lit up. Jules squinted against the radiance. Moving air whipped her pony tail in her face.

“Put yer other hand on tha’ one.” Bree ordered without looking up. She was chanting again under her breath.

Jules swallowed and clutched the small scroll to her sweaty palm. She should put it back in her pocket, but didn’t want to take the time. She commanded her shaking hand to the crystal to her right. Finally, her fingers made purchase, the parchment stuck between her palm and the bright mineral. At her touch, it shone like she’d hit some
on
switch.

Bree’s chanting became yelling.

The crystals were humming together now and heating up, like they were water on the stove, on the way to a slow boil.

A shudder made its way down Jules’ spine, but she forced her concentration on the Irish woman, battling revulsion against the fascination that was creeping up from her gut. Was she seeing magic?

Real magic?

“Wha’ ever ye do, doona’ let go!” Bree’s shout brought Jules’ gaze to hers.

She gasped. Bree was radiant, glowing like the five crystals. Her hair was flowing around her face, and her pants sounded like a parachute as the wind buffeted them.

“Won’t be long now!”

Jules didn’t get a chance to ask what she’d meant. Cool air smacked her face and dried her eyes. She had to squint.

There was a
pop,
then another, each getting steadily louder until her ears rang. Light shot straight up from the crystal in the middle.

A triumphant whoop sounded from Bree.

Jules couldn’t tear her eyes away as a bubble formed and hovered over the rocky ground of the cavern. It was hazy, widening slowly, getting larger and larger. It moved up and down as it grew.

“Home; I’m goin’ home.” The words were Bree’s mantra, said over and over until the Irish woman switched to the other language again.

Disbelief whipped through Jules’ form, as sure as the wind still pushing at her body and tearing at her clothing. She shook from head to toe.

“Come, come, it shan’t stay open long.” Bree gestured. “Ye can let go now.”

Forcing a nod, she pried her fingers from the hot crystals, clutching the scroll tight. She had to lock her knees so she wouldn’t fall over.

“Ye believe, after all.” Satisfaction soaked the woman’s statement, but she only smirked when Jules shook her head. Bree slid her arm in Jules’ and tugged her forward, to the hazy bubble. “Let us go home.”

Jules gulped but didn’t pull away.

Just what am I getting myself into?

Hugh grunted as Dubh shot down the beach. He gave his great stallion free rein, the wind parting his hair and Dubh’s mane alike. When the horse slowed of his own accord, Hugh closed his eyes and sucked in fresh, frigid sea air. He weaved his fingers in his horse’s thick black mane.

The stallion snorted and slowed to a walk. His ears pitched forward and he hooved the rocky sand.

“Wha’ ‘tis it, laddie?” He patted Dubh’s neck and looked around.

They were close to MacLeod lands. Needed to move back down the beach.

A feminine moan had Hugh freezing on his horse’s back.

A lass?

The female in question was up ahead, wobbling on her feet not far from the rocky hillside. She had her hand at her forehead.

And…she was naked.

Too much drink?

Hugh kneed Dubh, navigating the slight incline. When the stallion trotted within a few feet of the lass, he reined him in, slipping off his back. He patted his rump as soon his deerskin boots hit the ground, but the horse wouldn’t go far. Even if Dubh wandered, he’d return to Hugh’s side with a whistle alone.

Frowning, Hugh watched the lass stumble. As if she was aware of nothing. Her arm shot out to steady her body, but found no purchase.

And what a body it was.

The lass had large high breasts, a slim waist, and hips that had just the right amount of curve. His eyes rested at the apex of her thighs. Barely-there honey colored curls guarded the heaven between her legs.

She whimpered and lurched toward him, but Hugh couldn’t be sure she even realized she was no longer alone.

He took two steps forward, but she lost her balance before he could grab her.

The lass collapsed at his feet.

Something small and cylindrical rolled away and Hugh stopped it with a booted foot before the wind could send it flying. He glanced at the lass, but she was very still. She’d passed out.