“Rory don’t think ya are getting out of answering,” Margareta said. “What happened?”
He made a move to stand from the table. His ma held up her hand. Yellow light swirled around her fingertips in warning.
Rory settled back into his chair. “I was taking a shower, and the next thing I know I was tied to a tree with enchanted ropes, and I couldn’t use my magick to escape.”
“Sounds like your cousins,” Cait said.
“Aye,” Margareta and Murdoch agreed in unison.
“Uncle Raibeart found me on one of his midnight runs, and I convinced him to free me.” Rory tried to stand again. Cait lifted a finger and pointed that he should remain seated.
“Continue,” Cait said. “Where did the knife come from?”
“Jennifer was there chasing a lost puppy,” Rory said. “I thought she’d found it, but instead, she discovered the cursed knife. Until that moment, she couldn’t see me or the enchanted rope. Raibeart stopped her from coming after me, but he stunned her pretty good with an energy ball. We had to take her to the motel to sleep it off.”
“I have to ask, son,” Murdoch said. “Did ya drink anything with Raibeart before all this happened? Because it seems a little…”
“Strange,” Cait finished.
“Aye,” Aunt Margareta agreed.
“Are ya seeing little fairies dancing around your head?” his da continued.
“It happened,” Rory assured them. “I need to go check on Jennifer and make sure everything is all right with her. She didn’t remember any of it, but since this was a supernatural event and she’s human, we owe it to her to make sure she’s unharmed.”
“So you’re sure she’s not a bog witch?” Cait asked.
“She’s not a bog anything. She’s just a pretty girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Rory said, instantly regretting his words.
“Pretty?” Cait perked up a little.
“I mean, yeah, for a human.” Rory tried to downplay the comment.
“Do ya think…?” Cait looked at Margareta.
“I don’t see why not,” Margareta answered.
“Before ya start planning my wedding, maybe ya could see to it that the cursed knife is put away somewhere safe?” Rory stood and pointed toward the ceiling.
The blade was gone with only a hole to show for it.
“Raibeart,” Margareta muttered, leaving to confront the man.
“I think he kept the enchanted rope, too,” Rory called after her as she stormed from the room to collect the scian. “Might want to get that from him.”
“Ya are unharmed?” His ma leaned forward to grab his hands, now that he was alone in the dining room with his parents.
“I’m fine, Ma, I promise,” Rory said.
“And the puppy?” his da asked. “Did ya find the puppy?”
Rory smiled and nodded. All of the MacGregors were animal lovers. “Aye. The puppy is safe. The motel staff is spoiling him. I was actually thinking of keeping him. He’s a cute little guy. Traitor could use a playmate, I think. They say it keeps the older dogs young to have a puppy around.”
Traitor was his uncle Fergus’s English bulldog.
“I’m sure Fergus will help ya with the enchantments when it comes time,” Murdoch said. That was one benefit of being a warlock. Pets lived much longer than their expected lifespans. Fergus swore by enchantments and potions, but Rory always thought it had to do with the animals absorbing magick left over from their owners. The constant stream of it helped keep them young and healthy.
“So, pretty Jennifer?” his ma prompted as if being alone with his parents would make him more willing to talk about his love life.
“Ma, I don’t know. I gave her a ride home, and she didn’t seem interested in dating me. I’m more concerned with the cursed object that’s trying to kill me.” Rory patted her hand before standing from the table.
“I can tell ya like her,” Cait said. “I know my son.”
“Ya have to woo the ones who are worth it,” Murdoch advised.
“Ya mean take a potion to turn myself into a bird and serenade her from outside her window as ya did in the olden days?” Rory teased. “She might think I’m Iain, and that would cause all kinds of problems between him and Jane.”
“I hear they hold up boom boxes now for that,” Cait offered.
“Who’s been holding up your boom boxes?” Murdoch pretended to be upset. Cait came around the table to kiss her husband.
“I’m out of here. This is about to get weird.” Rory headed toward the door.
“Check in,” Cait ordered. “Let us know you’re all right, or we’ll come looking for ya.”
“She works at Crimson Tavern. I’ll be there. Don’t show up at her work. Ya might scare her off.” Rory quickened his steps as he went toward the stairs.
“No magick is strong enough to hold Raibeart the Great!” Raibeart ran from the back rooms. Cloth fairy wings flapped with each step. Jewel’s laughter followed him, as did Margareta’s scolding.
“Raibeart!” Margareta yelled.
Rory took the steps two at a time and hurried to his bedroom. He shut the door on the chaos erupting behind him.
Chapter Eight
Rory felt the breath rush out of him as his bedroom door shut behind him. He blinked—only to open his eyes to darkness. The door had not led to his bedroom. He tried to move but found his body wedged between a concrete wall and wooden planks. The room carried with it a musty odor, like stale air and bags of flour. A protrusion dug into his back.
“Not again,” he whispered, trying to wriggle free. His magick refused to rise when he called it forth. He slammed his shoulder forward, trying to dislodge himself. The more he fought, the tighter the wood seemed to press him into place until each breath became painful.
This time it was impossible to dismiss what was happening as a prank.
“Hello?” his breath came out on a pant, and the sound was barely loud enough for him to hear, let alone anyone else.
Seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity
