Spirits and Spells (Warlocks MacGregor Book 5) Read online

  Niall loved his family, but there were times he wanted to cast a bubble spell over them to keep them locked up and out of mischief.

  “And ya want me to take care of it?” It wasn’t really a question as he already knew the answer. Of course they wanted him to deal with it. The whistling wind picked back up.

  “Listen to that. Something is not happy,” Cait mused, looking up at the trees.

  “Aye, it didn’t want to see Raibeart’s naked arse any more than I did,” Niall muttered.

  “That sounds like a wraith. It was probably drawn to the house with the other ghosts when Malina’s luck demon found a way through our protection spells.” Cait fingered her pearl necklace. “We need to take care of it.”

  His aunt might have said “we” but Niall knew where the responsibility would land. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In no particular order: clear out stinky goblin den, make sure no ghosts were still hiding in the mansion, hunt gremains before they took apart the whole town brick by brick, track down a demon blade, exorcise a wraith, ensure he didn’t have to kill Malina’s husband a second time, and fix Charlotte’s apartment because he’d apparently been failing as a landlord.

  Damn Dar and his dose of bad luck.

  Then there was Charlotte herself. She didn’t belong on his list of chores as she wasn’t simply a chore. He needed to protect her.

  “There is something different about Charlotte tonight,” Cait said, getting the conversation back on track. “I have done all I can for her, but Euann said the luck demon touched her. If it was bad luck, I’m guessing she’d be dead by now. But I cannot predict what his brand of good luck will do to the spells we’ve been casting to help her.”

  Niall thought about the statue. His guilt would not be taking him there this night.

  Chapter Five

  Niall looked at the woman frozen in mid-action on his couch. Charlotte wore a pair of jeans and a long sweater, and he was glad to see her out of the wet clothes from earlier. By the way her arm was braced, it appeared she had been trying to get up. Whereas he understood Cait probably didn’t have a choice, he hated that magick was used on Charlotte yet again.

  He lifted his hand, pushing the apartment door shut behind him without touching it. Charlotte couldn’t move, not even her eyes, and he knew anything he said or did would not register. To her, she would be locked in a dream. He listened to the door lock latch behind him before moving toward her.

  She was beautiful as if carved from a Renaissance master’s chisel. There was a wildness in her gaze that haunted him because he knew he was partly responsible for it. In trying to save her, he had broken her. Her curls wound around her head, frozen like the snake hair of Medusa. It was a fitting comparison, not that she was a monster or hideous to behold, but because like the ancient gorgon, she could turn him to stone with just one look. When Charlotte gazed upon him, spoke to him, he became unable to respond.

  Niall took a seat next to her, and leaned his head back against the couch. “I am sorry, Charlotte, that we find ourselves yet again in a magickal circumstance. Ya don’t deserve any of this.”

  She couldn’t hear him.

  “I love my family, but ya won’t believe the mess they made this time.” For a moment, he let himself imagine she sat next to him willingly, and that this was normal. “Maybe I should take ya away from here? We could get on my bike and ride and…”

  What was he doing? This wasn’t a date. Charlotte didn’t even like him. He touched his sore cheek where she’d punched him.

  After several long moments sitting in silence, he finally lifted his head to look at her. He placed his hand on her back, between her shoulder blades. The skin had lost all pliability. He patted her a few times, wishing she could feel the comfort somehow in her dreams.

  He let his hand fall away from her and leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. He let the memories he carried flow through him as a reminder as to why he’d taken them. He made himself feel the fear she had in being locked in a basement prison, the feeling of Iain’s magick entering her by force and those eternal seconds when death had lingered inside of her.

  “There is so much work to be done, and all I want to do is sleep,” he whispered. “Sometimes I think about stopping and making someone else deal with the dangers of the world, but I can’t abandon my family or my duty.”

  The echoes of screams lingered inside him. Charlotte had been terrified when she watched Erik shift into a half panther, half man. He could just imagine how she’d react seeing his wolf. Niall stared at the tip of his forefinger, letting hair grow over the digit as a nail shifted into a sharp claw. He shook his hand, making it return to normal.

  Niall knew what his duty was. He was to protect the MacGregor clan at all cost. He was to fight evil in all forms. Magick needed to be hidden and contained. The easiest thing would have been to let Charlotte fall into her insanity and be dismissed as another sad story in the history of mental health.

  He couldn’t do it.

  Niall paced the length of his living room. The apartment didn’t feel like a home. It felt like just another room, a place to store his weapons if he ever decided to unpack them from his motorcycle.

  “I would take it all back if I could,” he told her, not for the first time. The only time he could manage to get words out around her was when she couldn’t hear them. Niall found himself kneeling before her. He gazed at her face. “I would rewind time if I thought it would help fix your future.”

  As badly as he wanted her to speak to him, he was just as glad that she couldn’t hear his words. There was nothing to be gained by her learning the truth—any of the truths. Remembering the pain and fear of the past would not help her. Discovering the knowledge he kept buried would not cure her.

  “I would let ya see the truth if that meant ya would look at me once the way I see ya every day.” The feelings he suppressed whenever she was around tried to fill him. He looked around the apartment, trying to reassure himself that no one would ever discover the truth of what he was about to say. The words barely left him in a whisper. “I love ya, Charlotte.”

  And that was the truth he tried so hard to hide from everyone. He loved her from that very first moment. It had shot through him like a bullet, and like a bullet the knowledge left a giant hole inside him. He promised himself he would not say the words out loud again even if she couldn’t hear them. His feelings were a burden she did not need. He touched his bruised eye. He saw the way she looked at him.

  Niall’s dreams were filled with her. They may always be filled with her, but she deserved more than a man who chased demons for a living. He hated to admit it, but she deserved a man like his brother Euann.

  There wasn’t much he could do for her in her current state but wait. Niall lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. As the spell wore off, she’d be able to relax. He arranged her the best he could and covered her with a blanket.

  “I promise ya, Charlotte, I will find a way to help ya.” He kept his voice a whisper, even as he knew no one else was in the apartment to hear. “And I will keep my feelings to myself. They will never be your burden to deal with.”

  Chapter Six

  Charlotte couldn’t move, not that she wanted to. All around her, black-and-white images played like virtual reality. Vertigo came and went as she clung to moments when the ground was solid and did not slide from under her.

  People she knew from town appeared in front of her, rudely close, flashing across her vision. Their voices did not match the movements of their mouths. The metal tin of a star hung in front of the country drive. Sheriff Johnson’s house had such a star in front of it. Firelight danced over it.

  She began to shake, knowing instinctively that nothing good was going to come from this. Hands gripped her and she found Lydia holding on to her. Shadows cast all around in the light, long and distorted as townsfolk danced. There was a young girl from town with flaxen ringlets, and her mother. Mrs. Callister, the busybody who snooped i
nto everyone’s business, passed near Mr. Baker from the post office and Mr. Wirth, their third-grade teacher. Chef Alana wore an apron as if she’d just been called out of her kitchen. Charlotte loved Alana’s fettuccini with basil and tomato.

  The young girl fetched an ornate goblet from the ground. A strange chanting began amongst the townsfolk. This had to be a dream. What else could it be? She tried to wake up. She scratched her arm, unable to feel.

  A dark shadow cut through the light. Charlotte heard a scream echoing around them, reverberating inside her. The dark spirit circled the fire and was joined by another.

  The young girl brought the goblet to her. A voice from behind ordered, “Drink it.”

  Time became meaningless. Charlotte found the cup in her hands. She saw liquid flying from her lips, the blood-red poison standing out against the colorless world. The child screamed as droplets hit her dress, and she ran to her mother. Charlotte’s mouth was again open as she swallowed mouthfuls. It was a taste that could not easily be forgotten.

  The cup disappeared, and she was on her back, looking up at the night sky. Her limbs jerked and seized as the insane energy flowed into her and out of her.

  “I would take it all back if I could,” a familiar voice whispered against her cheek, different from the others. “I would rewind time if it would fix the future. I would let ya see the truth.”

  The firelight faded onto gray walls, taking the voices with it. She wanted to run, but her body did not obey. She blinked, her lids feeling heavy. The dark shadows swam over the walls, calling to a place deep within her brain. These were not like the ghosts she’d seen. Gramma Annabelle’s spirit was soft and light, and smelled of lilies.

  “I remember you,” she tried to say to the shadows, though she wasn’t sure her lips actually moved, or her voice had left her. “I remember you are a lidérc. You came to me. No, we were brought to you. No, you needed us for something…?”

  Charlotte held on to all the pieces she could, clinging to the fragments as she struggled to arrange them into their rightful places. The shadows faded and were replaced by the softness of early morning light. The rumble of cars moved over the street. It was the sounds of her apartment, but her walls were not gray and her bed was not dry. She heard the rhythmic tapping of a hammer somewhere beyond the room.

  Her limbs wouldn’t move, but she ignored them as she tried to hold on to the images she’d seen. There were gaps in her memory, but the timeline began to fill in. She’d been locked in a basement with Lydia. They’d been taken to Sheriff Johnson’s lawn, where there had been bonfires. That didn’t seem like a real memory. Sheriff Johnson waved at her every time she saw him. He hardly seemed the type to have scary bonfires on his lawn. Yet, she was as sure of it as she was her memory of stringing Buck Mitchell to the flagpole.

  They’d wanted her to drink something. The awful taste of the poison had flooded her mouth and nearly killed her. Then her body had been filled with energy and pain. Had she been electrocuted? Is that why her memories stopped? Lightning? Downed power line? Jumper cables? None of those answers seemed like the right one.

  As excited as she was to remember something, anything, from her lost time, she was just as terrified to see what lay hidden in there. Had the entire town gone insane and tried to sacrifice her and her best friend? She’d heard people talking about some kind of bad mushroom incident at a potluck dinner. Had she ingested poisonous mushrooms and hallucinated?

  A familiar scent caused her to turn her head toward the pillow. It both irritated and excited her at once. She knew that smell. Niall?

  A blue flash of light spread over the room and she gasped as her limbs seemed to let loose. She flailed, turning in confusion as she tangled in the bedding. Her mind processed her surroundings slowly. She was in a strange bed, but fully dressed in a sweater and blue jeans. The room lacked in decoration, aside from the bed and a small table with an open duffel bag. Clothes poked out of the top as if someone had dug through it.

  I would take it all back if I could. I would rewind time if it would fix the future. I would let ya see the truth.

  Niall.

  Charlotte’s motions became deliberate as she freed herself from the covers. Everything kept coming back to him. He was always there in the background, watching her. He owned her building. He whispered in her returning memories. Now she was in his bed.

  “Niall?” she called before leaving the bedroom. The apartment appeared empty. She caught her reflection as she passed the bathroom door. Seeing the mess of her hair, she instantly walked toward the mirror. The wildness of her appearance took her by surprise as if she hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror in a while. Her red hair was much brighter than normal, and the fact that it looked like she hadn’t bothered with a brush only added to the cavewoman effect. Her misbuttoned shirt forced her collar to fall strangely to the side.

  Charlotte did her best to right her appearance, rebuttoning the shirt and untangling the elastic band from her hair. She tried to find a brush but aside from a razor, toothbrush, and a few odds and ends, the drawers were empty. However, she did notice a bottle of the Love Potions body wash she and Lydia made in his shower.

  “I brought ya lunch.”

  Charlotte gasped at the sound of Niall’s voice and slammed a drawer shut as she whipped around in the bathroom to face him. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her. “I wasn’t, I was…”

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Is this a seizure?”

  “No.” She placed her hands on her hips. He wore a faded T-shirt and distressed jeans. She could barely count the times he hadn’t been in a kilt. The bruise by his eyes caused her to flex her hand unconsciously. “I’m saying, I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for a brush for my hair.”

  “Why would I have a brush for your hair?” he asked.

  “Why would I be in your bed?” she countered. That’s not what she’d meant. It was too late to retract her words as their implications unraveled, her mind only too happy to supply her with many varied answers to that question. There was only one way out of the bathroom and he was blocking it. Flustered, she tried to rephrase. “I mean, why would you have me in your bed? Or rather, why am I in your…”

  Charlotte held up her hands and shook her head. She averted her eyes and pushed forward, forcing him to back away as she made her way into the living room. Several food containers were on the table from various places in town—fast food burgers, Chinese takeout, a couple of pizza boxes, tacos, and boxes labeled Perfection Restaurant.

  “Is this what you eat for breakfast?” Charlotte frowned.

  “It’s lunch.” Niall pointed at a drink carrier. “Tea, coffee, soda, lemonade?”

  “Uh, tea.” Charlotte glanced out the window. She’d assumed it was morning, but it could have been later in the day. Had she really slept that long?

  He handed the iced tea to her and gestured at the pizzas. “Super cheese or beef with mushrooms.”

  Charlotte arched a brow and didn’t speak.

  He continued around the strange buffet. “Lo mien noodles, sesame ginger chicken, steak tacos, chicken quesadilla, cheeseburger with tater tots, chicken strips and fries, fettuccini with basil and tomato, or chicken Parmesan?”

  “Who’s coming to lunch?” Charlotte ignored the fact that he’d somehow shown up with all of her favorites from around town.

  He frowned and shook his head. “Just us. I did not know what ya would want. As my family constantly points out, I do not have a home suited to guests. There is no food in the fridge.”

  If this had been anyone else, she would have thought the gesture sweet, but this was Niall—grumpy, moody, disapproving, pain-in-the-ass Niall.

  Even though she was hungry, she didn’t move to take the food. She set the tea down on the table and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Did something happen? I seem to remember talking to your Aunt Cait, standing up to leave, and then…nothing.”

  “Ya slept in my bed,” he said, as if that was enough
of an answer.

  Seeing a discarded bathrobe beside the table, she remembered what Raibeart had said about her. “I’m not crazy.”

  He continued to look at her with his unreadable expression. She wondered what went on inside his mind. What had happened to him to make him like this? The rest of his family was fun-loving and chaotic. Niall was so controlled to the point he appeared rigid, and his rare smiles were like sighting an endangered animal in the wild.

  “No. I would not say ya are crazy.” The words were slow in coming as if he wasn’t sure she was looking for an answer.

  “The man who was here last night,” she began.

  “Darragh Lahey,” Niall supplied. “Dar.”

  “Did he do something to Malina? I wanted to check on her last night, but I don’t remember leaving the apartment. Instead, I woke up in your bed.” She really needed to stop pointing out she’d been in his bed. Each time she said it, the fact sounded more intimate than it had a right to be. She’d probably blacked out again and they hadn’t known what to do with her.

  “It was a family matter. Malina is unharmed. Dar is her husband. They were having an argument, but it is settled now.” Niall gave a meaningful look at the food. Charlotte ignored the gesture.

  “I’m not crazy,” she stated.

  “Ya said that already,” he reminded her.

  “There is something different about your family.” She ignored his curt response.

  “Aye. We’re Scottish.” Niall’s tone was dry, and it took her a moment to realize he might be attempting to make a joke. Then again, she wasn’t sure.

  “No, not that.”

  “We wear kilts.”

  “No.”

  “We’re rich.”

  “You know what I mean.” She braced her hand on the back of a dining chair in irritation.

  “I don’t.” His expression gave nothing away and she had to resist the temptation to blacken his other eye. Violence was never the answer, but there was something about him that stirred her blood and made her want to scream.