Stirring Up Trouble: A Warlocks MacGregor Novella (5 page)

F
ergus searched
the woods for hours. He had not seen his wife, but Margareta had been so certain he had to keep looking. There were no tracks in the snow where his sister had claimed she’d appeared. That could only mean Elspeth was in spirit form, not corporeal. Spirits were hard to find, but not impossible. When searching proved fruitless, he then went to the stone altar in the back gardens and lit candles. He’d tried his spirit board many times. It had never worked. But now Elspeth was close. She’d been seen.

Had his feelings for Donna stirred his wife’s spirit? Was it jealousy that had brought her back to him?

Donna.

Being with Donna had been like the answer to a prophecy—meant to be. She was smart and witty, and a strange combination of sweet and saucy. Now, as he tried to call Elspeth to him, he felt as if he was betraying Donna. The guilt he’d felt over Elspeth was now amplified, as if he cheated on both women.

He needed to be here, calling Elspeth. Never had he been this close to finding her. He wanted to be with Donna, erasing that parting look of pain off her face. He’d never meant to hurt her. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he loved her.

He loved Donna.

He loved Elspeth.

The knowledge shamed him.

“Elspeth?” Fergus whispered, looking around the gardens bathed in moonlight and snow. “It feels like the night I lost ya, love, the cold snow and a bitter chill to the air. Do ya remember what I promised? Whatever lies ahead, I’ll find you. I’ve tried, but I need your help, love. Ya were always the one who knew what I should do.” He waited, but there was no answer. “Is this your way of saying ya approve of Donna? Do ya want me to move on?”

A strong gust of wind whipped over him, blowing out the candles and throwing the spirit board angrily into a shrub. The thick wood split in half on impact. Seconds later, the wind changed directions, ripping the shrub from the ground as it carried the broken board toward Fergus’s head. He lifted his arms as the bush slammed into him. The impact knocked him over. The bush rolled down the cobblestone path toward the mansion.

Stunned, he lay on the ground, breathing hard. It would appear he had Elspeth’s answer.

D
onna huddled on her couch
, staring at the display screen on the back of her camera. An angry, distorted face stared at her. She knew the woman was Elspeth by the long blonde-streaked brown hair and green dress. The ghostly image was locked in a scream.

What should have been naked Fergus on the sled had ended up being a series of strangely threatening photographs. Donna slowly flipped through them for the hundredth time. Fergus’s face was blurred in the first one. Then there was the sheepdog she’d seen near Fergus laying in a grave partially covered in dirt. There was a squished insect on a window ledge. One picture depicted a cow with wide, frightened eyes. Another was an old mule. Yet another was a fallen butterfly. Then Donna as a child on the farm, crying and holding her bleeding head after she’d hit herself during a stick-fighting match with her imaginary friend. And finally the enraged Elspeth.

It didn’t take a genius to interpret the message. Elspeth was warning Donna to stay away from Fergus or she’d kill her like an animal going to slaughter.

Donna pulled the knitted blanket close to her body. Thick, fuzzy pajama pants and slippers should have offered her plenty of warmth, but the room had been getting colder despite the furnace being on. She thought about running, but there was nowhere to go. She couldn’t call Sheriff Johnson and tell him a ghost was threatening her. She didn’t dare go back to the MacGregor mansion for fear that would make the spirit angrier.

The one thing she couldn’t control was the pain she felt. She had fallen in love with Fergus. There was no hiding it, no denying it to herself. He cared for her. She’d seen it on his face when he’d watched her walk away. If she thought for a moment he could love her back, she’d fight Elspeth for him—scary, jealous supernatural witch and all.

Her lamplight began to flicker, and the temperature dropped dramatically as if Elspeth had heard the thought and come to answer the threat. The sound of wind whipped around the house, whistling loudly as it rattled the windows. A dog barked in warning.

“Oh, shit,” Donna whispered. She hooked her camera strap over her neck, not for any other reason beyond muscle memory repeating an old habit. The barking outside grew louder only to be followed by a series of hard thuds coming from her ceiling. The lights flickered harder. Donna looked up, shaking with each paranormal bang. She held the blanket close and forced herself to stand. The front door was the closest escape. Footsteps began running down the hall toward her.

Donna crashed into her oversized photo display, knocking it over as she ran out of the house. Snow flurried all around her, reflecting enough moonlight so that she could see where she was going. There was only one destination that made sense—Fergus. Her slippers crunched through a hard sheet of ice covering the snow beneath. It gave her a little traction as she made her way to the MacGregor drive. She couldn’t see the house yet, but that only made her run faster.

The dog barked again. She screamed at how close it sounded. When she frantically looked, nothing was there. Strange noises tormented her—the soft ting of a cowbell, the cry of a donkey, the buzz of an invisible fly.

“Leave me alone, Elspeth,” she cried, out of breath as she continued to run uphill. “You’re dead. I’m not. I can be good for him.”

Her answer came in the form of a rabid sheepdog. She screamed, dropping her knitted blanket as she ran harder. The beast forced her to turn toward the woods. She hurried for the shelter of the trees. Her heart pounded, drumming in her ears like a horse’s hooves. She wasn’t going to make it to Fergus. Elspeth was not going to let her.

The sound of her heart seemed to come from outside of herself until she realized it was the echo of the hooves.

“Comhstach,”
a man’s voice said. She recognized it as the same one that had been whispering in her house.

Donna could barely breathe. The horse stopped. Heavy boots landed on the ground and began to crush the snow, coming in her direction. If he walked directly past her inadequate hiding spot he’d surely discover her. She heard the long, sharp slide of metal. The invisible man had a sword.

Donna took the uncomfortable camera strap off her neck and tucked the equipment next to the tree beneath the brush. She crawled in the snow looking for better cover.

The footsteps found her. She turned, but no one was there, only impressions of boots crushing the snow as the ghost man came for her. She couldn’t fight what wasn’t there, but she knew he was angry and was going to kill her if she didn’t give him what he wanted. Donna screamed. She pushed to her feet and ran while looking behind her for signs of evil in the moonlight.

Suddenly, a sharp object pierced her stomach. She turned forward, only to find she’d impaled herself on a low tree branch. Her breath caught, and she pulled away from the tree. Cradling her stomach, she stumbled and fell on the ground. The footprints stopped near her and for an instant she thought she saw a man’s boots. She drew her head back sharply only to see the impression of a Medieval warrior stepping away from her with his bloodied sword as if he’d been the one who’d run her through. The man faded, and his voice echoed in his wake, “See if the devil will save ya and the babe now,
comhstach.”

At first she felt nothing, just a confused sense of being hurt. Her eyes went to where she hid the camera as if suddenly protecting it was the most important thing in the world. Wait, no. Not a camera. A baby. She’d hidden a baby that couldn’t cry. She had to protect the baby.

And then suddenly the pain came in a rush. She fell onto her side in the snow and gasped loudly as she clutched her stomach over the wound. Tears slid down her cheeks. She tried to speak, but only a moan came out.

“Elspeth? Where are ya? Where did ya go?”

She moaned louder at Fergus’s voice.

“Donna?”

Donna lifted a bloodied hand as he appeared before her.

“Donna!” He kneeled beside her. His hands pressed over her wound as if he could stop it. “Oh, love, what did ya do? Not again. Not again. Oh, not again. Cait!”

“Gus,” she said, desperate to get his frantic attention. There was so much she needed to tell him, but as he looked at her, his face changed. The gray faded from his temples. His hair grew as did his beard.

“Do not leave me,” he begged, the voice strange as if it came from inside her mind.

She wanted to answer, but it hurt too badly. This was not how their story was supposed to end. She’d just found him.

“I’m coming with ya, my heart,” Fergus said, more like a plea. He began to look around the forest ground.

“Gus.” Her voice broke whatever spell they were under and his hair returned to normal. Not knowing why she said it, she whispered, “Whatever is beyond, find me again.”

“No! I will not lose ya, Donna.” He gathered her in his arms and lifted. “Cait! Help me, Cait!”

Donna moaned in agony. Fergus’s movements jolted her body as he carried her through the trees toward the mansion. She coughed, and her lips tasted of blood. The world began to dim and with darkness came blessed relief.

F
ergus continued
to scream for his sister as he carried Donna from the woods. He’d followed Elspeth’s spirit to where Donna lay. The wounds were too similar to be ignored. Elspeth in her green dress, run through with a sword. Donna in soggy stuffed rabbits on her feet and pink fuzzy pants, punctured in the exact same place by a tree.

“Cait!” he cried desperately. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not like this. Not again. This was not how love was supposed to be. He was supposed to get forever.

He was powerless to save her. He didn’t have the right kind of magick. But Cait did. She was a healer.

“Don’t leave me, my heart,” he begged. “Cait!”

“What is it?” Cait appeared on the front step as Fergus pushed past, taking Donna inside. The barrier of warmth greeted them as they came out of the cold into the perfect temperature of the house. He placed her on the floor. Cait instantly came beside him and placed her hands over Donna’s wound.

“What happened?” Margareta demanded.

“We were supposed to have forever,” he whispered.

Cait grabbed hold of Fergus’s arm with one hand and began draining his power in order to fuel her own. Margareta placed her hand over Cait’s, letting her take what she needed from her as well.

“Fergus, look,” Margareta said.

He lifted his eyes from Donna to find Elspeth’s spirit looking at him. His dead wife smiled, the same look he’d carried with him through the centuries.

“Elspeth?” He said her name in disbelief.

“Whatever lies ahead,” Elspeth answered softly. She came forward and placed her hand over Cait’s. Before Cait could stop it, Elspeth used the flow of power to drain her spirit into Donna.

Donna gasped and opened her eyes. Cait drew her hand back to reveal a healed stomach.

Fergus leaned over her, cupping her face. “Donna? Can ya hear me?”

She took several deep breaths. “Of course I can hear you. You’re two inches away from my face.”

He gave a small laugh of relief, happy she was alive. “Ya gave me a scare, lass. How are ya feeling?”

“Like…” Donna frowned. “Like I want to bake you cookies.” She sighed heavily and mumbled, “Dammit, Elspeth. We don’t bake in this lifetime.”

“She gave herself to save ya,” Fergus explained.

“No.” Donna pushed up to a sitting position on the floor. “I remember everything. That part of my spirit has been trying to come back to me. Actually, all parts of my spirit have been trying to come back to me.”

“That’s why she was so comfortable with seeing magick,” Cait said to Margareta as if the two of them had been discussing it and the mystery was now solved.

“All parts?” Fergus stroked Donna’s hair away from her cheek. He felt his love in her. Elspeth, Donna, whatever she was called, he felt his soul being reflected back to him. This was his wife. Forever.

Donna smiled at Cait. “Thank you for healing me. I see your powers have gotten much stronger.”

“I’m just glad I was nearby this time,” Cait answered.

“Elspeth?” Margareta reached to hug her. “I’m so happy to see ya. I have waited a long time to thank ya for saving my daughter.”

“Donna,” Donna corrected, returning the hug of her old friend. “Elspeth was a past life, but you’re welcome. Part of me can’t believe how grown Malina is. I’m so glad she’s all right. The other part of me can’t believe I was ever in a fight with a witch hunter.”

“We never told Malina ya died saving her,” Margareta said. “Perhaps we should have, but after Fergus finally delivered her to England, we didn’t see her for a very long time. When she came back to us, she said she felt like an outsider, no matter how much we told her we loved her. She knew how much we all missed Elspeth, and that ya died in the witch trials. It never seemed right to let her carry that blame. But she knows all about ya.”

“Of course.” Donna nodded. “You shouldn’t put that kind of guilt on a kid. What happened was not Malina’s fault.”

“Donna, I don’t understand. Ya said parts?” Fergus pulled her away from Margareta so that he could hold her. “What did ya mean when ya said all parts of your spirit came back?”

“You, my dear, have not gotten better with your spells,” Donna whispered, cupping his face in her hands. “And my abilities in the kitchen were a victim of their side effects. At least that’s the excuse I’m going to tell the rest of your family.”

“I tried. I’m so sorry. I tried everything to bring ya back sooner.” Fergus was afraid to let go, to stop looking at her face. He wanted to hold her, make love to her, and stare at her so she couldn’t disappear from his life again.

“Oh, I can remember that too. You brought me back plenty of times, husband. You brought me back as a fly and then squished me. You brought me back as a sheepdog and then named me Martin! You made me sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, Fergus,” Margareta scolded. “Ya didn’t.”

“Martin?” Cait laughed. “Ya cursed that dog for a century for chewing your favorite boots.”

“Hey, that’s right,” Fergus said. “Ya ate my boots.”

“They were ugly,” Donna stated. “It was the only way to get you to stop wearing them.”

“Well, ya say I squished ya? Let’s just call it even. I forgive ya for the boots.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Four hundred years had culminated into this perfect moment. He may never stop smiling again.

“Even? Oh, hardly, I’m just getting started. We have four hundred years of reincarnations to discuss, Mr. MacGregor. There’s the cow and the—”

Fergus kissed her to quiet her. Then he pulled her to her feet as he stood, not letting go. He lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. “It looks as if I did all right this last time.”

“Hey, Margareta, do these tree ornaments look off to ya?” Cait asked behind them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Margareta answered.

Fergus walked faster, wanting to get Donna alone. Making love to her once had not been enough.

“You think you did all right? My past life tried to kill me in this life, twice, in an effort to make me remember her.” Donna tapped her finger against the tip of his nose before lightly pinching the tip and wiggling it.

“Twice?” He continued up the stairs and onto the landing.

“The first time was when I was a kid. She hit me with a stick. I think she was trying to knock some sense into me, or something. I don’t know. It seems a bunch of little accidents and oddities in my life can be attributed to Elspeth trying to communicate.”

“Ya can’t blame me for that. Technically ya hit yourself.” He tried to kiss her, but she pulled back.

“Fine. Past-me hit present-me with a stick. I’m Elspeth, but not Elspeth. However, I guess we’re kind of even on this point since she did try to kill you too.”

“Oh?” He paused in his pursuit of her mouth.

“The enchanted cookie baking.” Donna laughed. “I can guarantee the happy homemaker neighbor deliveries were not this lifetime’s idea.” Suddenly, her laughter stopped. “That’s not going to happen anymore, is it? I mean, I’ll be arrested for poisoning someone if I keep that up.”

“Well, I do need ya to make me at least one more batch.” Fergus lifted his hand, throwing open the bedroom door without touching it.

She arched a brow. He had to be joking.

“I’ve already called a MacGregor challenge as soon as Euann is back from New York. He, Rory, and Malina will have to eat an entire pan of whatever ya bake as punishment for their joke gone wrong. They should have never given ya that gift basket. It was meant in jest for me to find, but I didn’t find it, and they do not know ya well enough to pull such pranks.”

“Actually, it is kind of funny,” Donna admitted. “I was so flustered by you and thought I was losing my sanity because of all the baking enchantment type episodes, that I yelled at you when I should have just laughed and accepted the joke for what it was. I’m sorry I yelled at you. You’re not a jerk. I should have apologized to you before now about that.”

“I’ll let ya make it up to me now.” Fergus grinned wickedly. He made their clothes melt from their bodies as he carried her to the bed. All the guilt was gone. The years no longer mattered. He had his heart back. Donna. His wife.

He laid her on the bed and then motioned his hand, slamming the door shut to give them privacy. His lips pressed to hers, kissing her deeply. He let her feel all the love he had for her. Everything he was belonged to her. It always had.

Pulling back, he grinned. “Ya know, I remember being rather fond of a mule.”

“We are never to mention my being a mule again.” Donna’s tone was stern.

“Oh, but love, ya were such a fine ass. I did enjoy riding ya.” He reached around to grab a firm butt cheek.

“Shut up and make love to me already.” Donna pushed him onto his back and took control. Soon their bodies were joining in a fevered rhythm as if trying to make up for lost time. As they met with a shaky climax, she whispered, “
Gráim thú
.”

“Aye, Donna, I love ya too.”