Chapter 23
I sat in the chair near my bedroom window staring at the drawing of Ian. I had to admit—it was pretty damn good. I caught the angles of his gorgeous face…the high cheekbones, sensual lips…and those intense eyes that mirrored love and desire.
The same love and desire I felt for him.
It had been an incredible hour where I could stare at him without feeling awkward or self-conscious, and he had sat there so quietly, just watching me in return. I wished I knew what he was thinking, and wondered if he could read my scorching thoughts.
Oddly, I didn’t care if he could read me. The sexual energy had been charged, and unfortunately, he had faded and disappeared before we could do anything about it.
I smiled and set the drawing down, and picked up Laria’s journal. If it wasn’t for Laria, I’d feel no urgency in helping Ian pass over right now. I thought about what Miss Akin had said. She had reminded me that what I had with Ian was impossible, that helping him had to come first and that we could have no future.
But it was tough to remember that when I was looking into his beautiful blue eyes.
Frustrated, I flipped to the page of the journal where I’d left off when my mother, or Laria, had made her appearance.
I unconsciously rubbed at the scar that had formed on my leg from where I’d cut myself the day I’d met Ian. Every single time I thought of my mother, or actually Laria’s visit, I felt the familiar temptation to cut.
If it wasn’t for the fact I hated the aftereffects of drinking, I’d probably get hammered, but I wasn’t a pretty drunk, and drugs weren’t an option, especially given the fact Laria might come through…and I can’t imagine how freaked out that would make me.
The desire to get my razor ate at me, making me wonder if the darkness of Laria’s spirit wasn’t coming through to me in different ways.
Refocusing, I took a deep breath and started reading.
June 20, 1786
I overheard Lady MacKinnon talking about Ian and Margot this morning. She said they would make a good match and positively glows every time Margot comes about. He cannot marry her. He cannot marry anyone else. Tonight I will visit with the elders. Another spell is in order, but this time I will take no chances. She must go.
June 22, 1786
I have everything I need, but I do not know if I will have to go through with it. I caught him staring at me today during dinner. Even Laird MacKinnon’s valet was irritated by the attention Ian paid me this evening.
June 27, 1786
I hate him. I hate him with everything I possess. He will pay for what he has done.
It was the final entry written in a shaky scrawl.
I frowned. What was I missing? Why had Maggie wanted me to read this journal, if not to find the answers on how to help Ian?
I started at page one again, flipped through each page, and skimmed each passage twice.
A breeze blew through the room.
My heart jolted. My mom stood before me, wearing the same white gown as before, but this time she was more of a fine mist than a solid form.
It was hard to remember that this wasn’t my mom, despite the fact she looked just like her. I couldn’t let on that I knew it was Laria.
“Have you told Ian you do not trust him and want him out of your life?” she asked.
“I’m working on it.” I set the journal aside, cleared my throat. “Will you answer a question?”
“Of course.” Though she smiled, I could hear the hesitation in her voice.
“What was the name of the song you sang to me at bedtime when I was a little girl?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you test me, Riley?”
Fear and apprehension crept up my spine. “No…I just forgot the name of the song, that’s all.”
Just in case she tried to read my thoughts, I focused on another song, literally singing the lyrics in my mind.
“I’m a little teapot,” she blurted, looking pleased with herself.
It had been the very song I’d been thinking of. A song I hated from the time I tried to play it on the piano and my piano teacher had snapped a ruler over my knuckles when I couldn’t get the notes right.
“Why did you really kill him, Laria? Was it because he didn’t like you as much as you liked him?”
Though she tried to keep her expression blank, I could see anger brimming in her eyes. My mom never looked that sinister when she was mad. Ever. Her gaze shifted briefly to the journal in my hands. “What are you talking about?”
I clearly heard her Scottish brogue creeping in this time.
“I know who you are,” I said, digging deep for a strength I doubted I possessed.
Her eyes widened. “I am your mother, Riley.”
“You are not my mother, Laria.”
As I continued to stare at her, I saw my mother’s features fade. The blue eyes turned dark brown, and her hair changed from blonde to Laria’s now familiar long, brown locks.
“Why did you kill him?” I asked again.
Laria looked horrible—paler than usual, with deeper, darker hollows beneath her eyes. “Because he deserved to die after what he did to me.”
“And what did he do to you, exactly?”
“He made me believe he would marry me.”
“He never asked you to marry him, and he never touched you.”
“You know nothing about me or Ian for that matter. He did care for me. He desired me. He loved me!” she said between clenched teeth.
“And so you killed him because you felt he betrayed you? Why did you feel it necessary to curse him as well? Wasn’t murder enough?”
I could see the fury in her face and hear it in her voice. “If you help him, I swear I shall make you pay for all eternity.”
“What does that mean? You’ll kill me and curse me as well?” I had no doubt she’d do just that, and the very idea of being an earthbound spirit was frightening.
“Perhaps,” she said, looking like she’d love to kill me right that second. The wicked smile that tugged at her lips made my blood turn cold.
“Do you think I fear dying?”
“No, you don’t fear death…because you should have died in your mum’s place.”
A fist to the gut would have had the same impact as her cruel words.
“You are the reason she is not here with you and your family. And now because of you, your brother no longer has a mother, and your father no longer has a wife. You wonder why she doesn’t come to you when other spirits can, and yet you know deep down it’s because you killed her. She resents you for taking her away from your father and your brother.”
Was Laria right? Did my mom stay away because she blamed me for her death?
I ran a trembling hand down my face. “Shut up, Laria.”
She floated toward me, her feet inches from the floor. I dug my nails into my palms. She looked at my fisted hands and smiled. “You like to hurt yourself, do you not, Riley? In fact, you yearn to hurt yourself now. To take away the pain you feel inside. I understand why.”
“Leave me alone, Laria. Just go away.”
“I will never leave you alone. Unless you forget about Ian MacKinnon. Forget about him, Riley, and I shall leave you and your family in peace.”
Peace. I’d never have peace if I turned my back on Ian. “No,” I said, tired of her threats.
She slammed me up against the wall, knocking the breath from me. She brought her face inches from mine. I could see the cruelty in her dark eyes, the hatred she felt toward me, and it chilled me to the bone.
“Forget him, Riley. He is not your concern.”
Her ice-cold fingers encircled my neck, and I clawed at her hands.
“Forget him and live, Riley,” she whispered in my ear. “If you help him, I shall kill you…and those you love.”
A second later she disappeared and I fell onto the floor, my hand at my throat.
I rushed toward the wastebasket only to find it empty. Shit! Miss Akin must have emptied it.<
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I looked for anything sharp. The nail that held my calendar on the wall would work.
My heart pounded against my chest, sweat forming on my brow. I crossed the room, pulled the nail from the wall, and headed for the bathroom to clean it with rubbing alcohol.
That’s when I saw the drawing of Ian on the floor, and it was as effective as having a cold glass of water thrown in my face.