“I didn’t have a choice.” Rory didn’t want to get into this. His ma and aunt would only worry, and his da and uncles would tease him mercilessly. “Some force abducted me out of the shower. I woke up in the forest tied naked to a tree with enchanted rope.”
“Which one of my sons did it this time?” Margareta MacGregor’s voice was low and soft, a sure sign she was annoyed. “God knows I love ya boys, but ya are all idiots.”
“And I saved him!” Raibeart announced over her. “I also got me a fine knife.”
Raibeart pulled the scian from a scabbard on his waist to show them the ancient blade.
“Let me see that,” Cait ordered, waving her hand to call the blade out of Raibeart’s grip with magick. It flew through the air at her head, but she caught it with ease. She furrowed her brow. “Who had this?”
“It’s mine,” Raibeart said. He waved his fingers to call the blade back. The knife flew out of Cait’s hand. Raibeart caught it. “Finders keepers I got peepers.”
“It’s cursed,” Cait corrected. “I feel a strange magickal vibration coming from it.”
“That’s nothing. Just a wee twitch.” Raibeart tried to put it back in his scabbard.
Cait used her magick to force the blade out of the scabbard. It again flew across the room. She caught it as it neared her. “No. I think we need to put it in the—”
“Mine,” Raibeart said, trying to take the knife back. The blade turned, flying toward him.
“Raibeart,” Cait scolded, waving her hand again.
The knife flew back and forth as they fought over it.
Suddenly, it headed off course, targeting Rory.
Rory lifted his arms to block his face and ducked.
“Watch it,” Murdoch yelled when it came too close to hitting his son. He waved his hand upward. His magick forced the blade to shoot up and embed itself into the ceiling.
“Ya know the rule, Raibeart. Cursed objects go in the vault,” Margareta said.
“Ya always take away my toys,” Raibeart pouted. His kilt shimmered to be replaced by a black leotard and pink tutu. “I’m going to go where I’m appreciated. Jewel and I have dance lessons.”
Glitter sprinkled from him as he marched from the dining room.
“There is something seriously wrong with that man,” Margareta said with a dismissing laugh.
“Rory, come here and try your ma’s cake.” Murdoch suppressed a grin as he lifted the slice in front of him.
“I had breakfast—” Rory tried to excuse himself.
“Nonsense,” Murdoch interrupted. “Take mine.”
Rory knew he wasn’t getting out of it as he walked around the table to sit by his father. “Thanks, Da.” He took the plate with the uneaten slice on it. “Ma, this looks amazing. Would ya mind giving Da another piece? I don’t feel right taking this one from him.”
Murdoch kicked him under the table. Rory gave a small cough.
Cait handed her husband another slice.
“Thank ya, my love.” Murdoch gazed lovingly at her. All his life, Rory had seen his father look at his mother just like that. And, knowing his da, he would eat every single bite of that cake no matter how bad it tasted, just to make her smile.
That is what Rory wanted. He wanted that kind of love.
He thought of Jennifer. The conversation between them had been stunted and awkward, and then there was the whole she-had-tried-to-stab-him thing. Logic told him to stay away and to tell his family there was danger.
He couldn’t form the words.
“You’re not eating,” his ma noted.
“Oh, uh…” Rory automatically looked at his father’s plate to see if he’d taken a bite first. Murdoch seemed to be waiting on him to go first.
“Is this bog witch thing something to worry about?” Cait furrowed her brow.
Rory knew that look. It instantly made him want to confess everything like a little kid in trouble.
“Raibeart was telling the truth this time, wasn’t he?” Cait crossed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t know what it is,” Rory said. “And her name is Jennifer, not Bog Witch.”
“Jennifer what?” Cait asked.
“I don’t know. Just Jennifer,” he answered.
“Ya mean there really was danger?” Margareta leaned closer to Cait to add her motherly stare to the equation as both women tried to force a confession out of him.
Rory picked up a fork and cut into the cake. He lifted a bite and mumbled, “I’m not sure,” before placing it in his mouth. Salt exploded over his taste buds, and he fought to keep from spitting it out. He put his fork on the table.
“Well?” his ma asked.
“Mm.” He tried to nod.
“Let me try—” Murdoch began, reaching for a fork.
Rory put his hand on his da’s to stop him. He couldn’t swallow. Standing, he grabbed a napkin from a stack that had been set out and spat his bite into is as artfully as he could.
Cait frowned.
“Ma did ya happen to mix up salt and sugar again?” he asked, wishing a drink was nearby.
Murdoch dropped his fork.
“No, did I?” Cait picked up the slice and brought a tiny bit to her lips. She made a face and shook her head. “Oh, that’s not good at all.” She grabbed the cake to carry it back to the kitchen with a dejected look on her face. They could hear her throwing it in the trash.
“Owe ya one, son,” his da whispered.
Rory kept the napkin to his lips and tried to spit more of the salty taste out of his mouth.
“I give up.” Cait walked back in empty-handed. She wiggled her fingers. Sparkles of magick rained over the table, and a new cake appeared where the old one had been. This one was decorated to magazine-cover perfection and was about three times as big as the first. “I don’t get it. I can boil a potion with my eyes closed, but this…” She waved her hand in frustration.
“My love, ya have so
