Chapter 18

18

Graeme paced the grass-grown swath of high ground that had once been Castle Grath’s finest strolling gardens, an area along the cliff edge and beneath the now-ruined tower. He hoped the journey here wouldn’t prove a waste of his time. He might have more hours at his disposal than he could wish to fritter away, but that wasn’t the point. He still preferred to make good use of his resources.

So he welcomed the wind coming in so strongly from the sea and gave thanks for the night’s cold air and full moon. The chill would keep him awake, his senses sharp-edged and alert. Moon glow bathed the ancient walls of his home, offering enough silvery light to let him see every approach to his beloved headland.

Jock was safe back at the cottage.

A promising, leather-wrapped bundle rested on the broad top of an easy-to-see boulder, just waiting to attract curiosity.

His father’s sword, Battle Lover, whiled patiently nearby. Graeme hoped to the gods that the blade and his other preparations would serve him well tonight.

He wouldn’t think about Kendra.

Wondering why she’d ignored his warning and had left the Laughing Gull in the company of a pompous-looking clod with the words HERITAGE TOURS painted on the side of his minivan was beyond him.

He didn’t want to risk the night’s hoped for triumph by fashing himself over a female he’d surely vested too much interest in already.

What mattered was that Ramsay made an appearance.

Graeme had done what he could, laying the groundwork and summoning all the craft and magic that was available to him as Guardian of the Wand.

In the end, if there was a fight, he’d use his wits and the skill of his sword arm to have done with Ramsay. And, he hoped, the bastard’s foul legacy.

If Roan Wylie and his girlfriend, Maili, had kept their word at the Mermaid, Ramsay would fall into his trap, hurrying to Grath in the hope of seizing the Shadow Wand before Graeme could dispose of the dread relic.

It scarce mattered that the wand was still lodged deep in the cliff behind Graeme’s cottage.

As long as Maili claimed she’d seen Graeme leave the Keel with a mysterious bundle, Ramsay would take the bait and head to Grath.

Or so he hoped.

Unfortunately, he’d been wearing a track in the grass, the night wind was getting colder by the minute, and there wasn’t any sign of his foe.

Yet he was sure Roan and Maili hadn’t betrayed him.

A lifespan of seven hundred years and a day made a man a good judge of character.

“I’ll have the wand, seal man.” Ramsay’s smug voice proved he hadn’t erred.

Turning slowly so the bastard wouldn’t guess he’d startled him, Graeme bent a long, assessing look on his enemy. “You can have it, aye. Or”—he strode over to where Ramsay stood among Grath’s broken gravestones—“you might be taking a jump from this world into the next. The choice is yours, depending on how well you fight.”

“You’d dare?” Ramsay gave him a silky smile, strolling forward. “That wouldn’t be wise. Or have you already forgotten how easily I sent a boulder crashing down onto your seal beach? Not that I’d mind beating you again.”

“You can’t and you know it.” Graeme held his gaze, challenging him. “Before the moon disappears behind thon clouds”—he glanced at the night sky—“you’ll be lying dead in a pool of your blood.”

“The wand is mine and always has been.” Ramsay leaned down and slid a fishing knife from his boot, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. “It’s you who’ll taste death this night.”

“I think not.” Graeme narrowed his eyes at the knife, using all his power to wrinkle the blade.

“You bastard!” Ramsay threw down the useless weapon. “Are you afraid to face me with a knife in my hand?”

“Are you man enough to fight with a real blade?” Graeme jerked his head toward Battle Lover, propped against one of the tall, Celtic crosses in Grath’s burial ground. “I’ve brought my father’s own sword for you.

“And”—he drew Bone Slicer from beneath his belt, nodding as the dirk’s blade flashed brilliant blue and lengthened into a long sword—“I thought we’d fight where the playing field is leveled.”

“I’ll take you on anywhere.” Ramsay went to grab Battle Lover, taking a few practice swings with the sword.

“Then we’ll fight behind the tower.” Graeme gave his foe his best courtly nod, well aware that Ramsay knew he’d lived in the days when such mores were practiced. “You’ll surely not object to facing me on the same ground where you sent Ritchie Watt to spy on me?”

Ramsay glared at him, fury blazing in his eyes. “There’s nothing but rabbit holes and puffin burrows back there. The ground would break beneath our weight.”

“So it could, aye.” Graeme turned and walked that way, taking his time.

Behind him, Ramsay swore. “The wand, you bastard. Where is it?”

Graeme glanced over his shoulder. “It’s in a leather pouch on one of the rocks near the cliff edge. Whichever one of us is still standing after we fight can have it. You have my word on that.”

He just didn’t say that whichever of them won would have to retrieve the relic from the cliff behind the Keel. Not that he wanted it. If he survived the fight—he knew Ramsay was a worthy swordsman—he meant to destroy the wand. After all these years of study, he believed he’d finally deciphered enough of his family’s Book of Shadows to know how to accomplish the relic’s demise.

But first he had to get rid of Ramsay.

“You’re a dead man, MacGrath.” Ramsay rushed him, swinging Battle Lover in a furious, arcing stroke as soon as they rounded the tower and reached the narrow strip of cliff behind the ruins.

Graeme drove him back with equally vicious swipes, lunging with lightning-quick moves that cut the air and pressed his foe closer to the cliff edge. “I’m no’ afraid to die, even if you could kill me.”

“The wand is mine!” Ramsay flashed a look at the leather-wrapped bundle, luminous in the moon glow.

“It should be no one’s.” Graeme’s blade glanced off Ramsay’s shoulder, drawing first blood. “Jump, bastard, or my next swing will take off your head.”

“Like hell it will,” Ramsay snarled, parrying furiously, crashing Battle Lover into Graeme’s sword. But his foot slipped on the slick grass and he fell to one knee, breathing hard as he kept hold of the sword and scrambled to his feet. “It’s your head that will roll. I’m not leaving here without the Shadow Wand.”

Graeme whirled and snatched the leather bundle, tossing it as near to the lip of the cliff as he could. “Fetch it and it’s yours.”

“You’re mad.” Ramsay took another arcing slash at him, aiming for Graeme’s middle.

“Mad enough not to kill you, that’s true.” Graeme launched into a savage attack, driving Ramsay farther along the cliff edge, away from the tower and toward the area where great chunks of sod and grass thrust out over empty air with nothing beneath.

“You’ll end yourself on your own.” Graeme swung again, letting Bone Slicer’s blade whistle just a hair past Ramsay’s neck.

“Snake!” Ramsay slew Battle Lover around, holding the blade point first as he ran at Graeme, screaming in rage as he tried to ram the sword into Graeme’s belly.

It was in that instant that Jock bolted between them, barking madly. Kendra came running, too, following hard on the dog’s heels.

“Jock, no!” Graeme yelled the command, whipping Bone Slicer into the air, away from the excited dog. “Kendra, stay back!”

She stumbled to a halt, bending over to brace her hands on her knees, breathing hard. “What’s going on here?”

Jock barked, running circles around the three of them.

“Jock, come here!” Graeme roared, tossing aside his sword to chase after his dog.

Ramsay laughed, bringing his own blade whistling down for a killing blow that would’ve cut Jock in two if Ramsay’s foot hadn’t sunk into a rabbit hole. Or—no one would ever know—perhaps landed on one of the cantilevered protrusions of sod. Either way, the ground collapsed beneath him, sending him hurtling to certain death on the stony beach four hundred feet below.

“Dear gods!” Kendra sank to her knees, wrapping her arms around Jock as she stared, wide-eyed and opened-mouthed at the empty space where Ramsay had stood only moments before.

His cry still echoed from the cliffs, and his discarded sword, a magic-wrought replica of the real Battle Lover, was already disintegrating, turning to dust on the grass only a few yards from where Kendra knelt with Jock.

Graeme hoped she wouldn’t notice.

Unfortunately, she did.

And her eyes grew even more round as the conjured sword vanished completely. “Oh, no.” She looked up at Graeme, shaking her head. “What happened here? I guessed you’d be fighting Ramsay—that’s why I came. But his sword?—”

“It wasn’t his.” Graeme went over to her, kneeling beside her and taking her into his arms. “It was a replica of my father’s sword, Battle Lover. Just like”—he glanced at the leather-wrapped bundle still on its rock near the cliff edge—“that pouch over there holds a busted chair leg from one of my kitchen chairs and not the Shadow Wand, as Ramsay thought was in the bag.”

“But…” Kendra blinked, the color leaving her face. “The pouch over there is still visible. The sword, and I know I saw it, is gone.”

“Aye, so it is.” Graeme pushed to his feet, shoved a hand through his hair.

The moment he’d dreaded was here.

He hadn’t actually killed Ramsay, though he’d more than skirted the strictures of law, however justifiable the man’s demise.

Kendra might understand that, having learned of Ramsay’s true nature.

But he could’ve done without her seeing the mirror sword return to the Otherworld, from whence he’d conjured it.

Now he’d have to tell her everything.

And he didn’t think he’d ever faced anything more difficult in all his overlong life.

“How did you get here?”

Graeme’s voice snapped Kendra’s attention off the bit of moon-washed grass where, moments before, a huge medieval sword had lain on the ground.

It was gone now, vanished before her eyes.

And that only lent credence to the suspicions that had been building ever since Wee Hughie had dropped her off at the Laughing Gull and she’d headed right back down Harbour Street to the Keel as soon as she’d been sure the author had driven out of the village.

She’d heard Jock’s howling from three cottages away. She’d found the front door unlocked, so she’d let herself in. The dog, apparently hungry, had led her into the kitchen, straight to his stash of dog food and his empty, waiting bowl. That’s when she’d noticed the uneven floorboard.

Curiosity was one of her dominant traits, so she hadn’t been able to resist examining it.

Everyone knew old houses had secret hiding places.

Graeme’s contained a Grimoire.

An ancient book of magic, filled with spells and conjurations, many pages illustrated with secret signs, circles, and characters. She’d recognized some of the symbols, thanks to her work and her great-grandmother’s collection of such tomes.

It’d also been obvious that Graeme studied the book—he’d left notes tucked inside some of the pages. Jottings that made clear there really was a Shadow Wand and that he was trying to learn how to destroy it. And that led her to the conclusion that Wee Hughie’s tale about MacGrath guardians, men that were immortal, just might be true.

Given her career and life experience, nothing surprised her.

Still…

“Kendra.” Graeme took her by the arm, pulled her to her feet. “What are you doing here?” He smoothed back her hair, his gaze trained on her. “I didn’t want you here tonight. You could’ve been hurt. I told you to stay at the inn. Then I saw you with a man at the cave and?—”

“He’s an author and”—she took a deep breath, steeling herself—“he works for Scotland’s Past. He came to the Laughing Gull to speak with me because…because I came to Pennard to work for them.”

“You what?” Graeme’s brows lifted. “You’re part of the Pennard Project?”

“Yes, but no…” She felt her face heating, and she started pacing along the tower wall. “I work for an organization called Ghostcatchers International and?—”

“You chase ghosts?” His brows hadn’t yet come down.

“No, not like you mean, not like on television.” She was making a muddle of it. “I was born with an unusual ability, a gift, really. It allows me to see spirits and, if they are amenable, to speak with them. I’m also a landscape historian, as I’ve told you. My main employment is to visit historical sites. Along with reading archaeological remains, I deal with any discarnates that might be troubled by restoration work or similar activity.”

Graeme’s brows finally lowered. “Scotland’s Past called you in because of the troubles in Pennard?”

“Yes.” She wouldn’t hide her work from him any longer.

“That’s why you saw the ghostly fleet from the window at the Laughing Gull, isn’t it?” Graeme reached down to rub Jock’s ears when the dog leaned against his legs.

“You could say that, yes. And”—she took a breath—“one of the herring fishermen came to me here, when you ran after Ritchie Watt.

“He said his name was Jock MacAllister, and he wanted me to give you a message. He?—”

“Jock MacAllister?” Graeme’s brows shot up again.

Kendra nodded. “He sounded as if he knew you. Personally, although I can’t imagine how that’s possible. He wanted me to tell you that the crack is widening from within.”

“He said that?” Graeme frowned. “Did he say anything else?”

Kendra touched a hand to her lips, trying to remember. She glanced to where Graeme and Ramsay had fought, still seeing Ramsay topple over the cliff edge. Her stomach twisted, a wave of queasiness washing through her. “It’s hard to think with a dead man down on the rocks.”

“Ramsay brought his end on himself, though I wish it hadn’t happened here.” Graeme shoved a hand through his hair, blew out a breath. “He’ll have caused the crack your ghost mentioned. His dark magic was growing more powerful by the day. It was only a matter of when he’d get his hands on the Shadow Wand.”

“Then there is such a relic?”

“Aye. It’s been hidden inside the cliff behind my cottage for centuries.” He paused, watching Jock, who moved a few feet away and flopped down on the grass. “My family has the hereditary duty to safeguard the wand. But Ramsay’s ancestor, Morcant, a dark druid, was the man who crafted it and infused the wand with such evil.”

“You’ve been trying to destroy it.” Kendra didn’t make it a question.

“It must be destroyed, lass.” He set his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her much as he had that first night at Balmedie. “I would’ve gotten rid of it years ago if only I’d known how.”

“And now you do?” The notes she’d seen in his Grimoire flashed across her mind.

“I believe so.” He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her hands, linking their fingers. “When Ramsay’s ancestor crafted the wand, he used dark spells to conjure the evil sealed in the relic. I believe he did so by writing the spells in his own blood on magical parchment and then eating them, taking the power into himself as well as letting it flow into the wand.

“One theory is that it is Morcant’s tainted blood that gives his descendants their magical strength. And that if the line is ended, the flow of that evil blood is stemmed, then the wand can be shattered, releasing the numberless souls believed trapped inside the wand.”

“But how can you shatter it if it’s somewhere inside a cliff?” Kendra doubted he’d want to dynamite the bluff.

Graeme glanced aside, out toward the sea. “I’ve been researching?—”

“In your Grimoire?” Kendra decided to come clean. “I found it when I went to the Keel tonight.”

He didn’t look at her, but she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. “So that’s why you came here?”

“Not really.” She was going to get squeaky clean. “I went to the cottage because I knew you’d seen me with Wee Hughie MacSporran, the author. I wanted to explain. I also planned to tell you why I really came here and that”—she rushed on, hurrying the words before she lost courage—“I’d told MacSporran I couldn’t support Scotland’s Past’s plans for Pennard and meant to do everything I can to keep the village as it is. But as I neared the Keel, I heard Jock howling, and when I got there, I tried the door.

“It wasn’t locked, so I went inside.” She glanced at the dog, not surprised to find him staring at them as if he knew exactly what she was saying. “Jock took me back into the kitchen, and I noticed the disturbed floorboard. I found the book of spells then. But it was Jock’s howls that made me come here. I love dogs and know they only wail like that when their master is in trouble.”

“You were worried about me?” He turned to face her then, his expression unreadable.

“Of course, I was.” She shivered, remembering how sick she’d felt when she’d realized where he was and that he’d likely be fighting Ramsay. “Jock was frantic. Dogs sense such things. So I knew it was bad.”

“You still haven’t told me how you got here.” He lifted a brow. “It’s too far to walk in the dark, even on a moonlit night like this.”

“I didn’t walk.”

“Did Iain drive you?”

“No.” Kendra straightened her shoulders. “I drove.”

“You drove?” He sounded incredulous.

“Yes, I did.” And she’d practically sweat blood and tears doing so.

Tackling Cliff Road in the dark had been terrifying, even though driving up the horrid road wasn’t as bad as driving down.

“Once we were up the cliff and out of Pennard, I followed the coastal road, watching for the signpost to Castle Grath.” She smiled at Jock, warmed by how much his presence in the passenger’s seat had comforted her. “Then, when we saw the turnoff and drove out here, we?—”

“Jock led you up the cliff path.”

“He did.” Kendra blinked, her eyes beginning to sting. “But he tore away from me when we reached the top of the bluff and heard you and Ramsay?—”

“Hush, lass.” He pulled her close, stroking her back. “We’ll speak of him tomorrow. Tonight is all about you. I took a chance fighting Ramsay on the cliff edge. Both of us could’ve broken through the cantilevered places. If you and Jock hadn’t arrived when you did, who knows if we’d be standing here talking right now?”

“Then you aren’t immortal?” She had to ask.

She’d been wondering ever since Wee Hughie told her the legend about MacGraths.

“I’ll die same as everyone, when my time comes.” He caught her face between his hands, leaned down to kiss her brow. “So I can’t be immortal, what?”

“You’re something.” She was sure of it.

“Aye, I am.” His eyes lit, teasing. “I’m the man who has a brilliant plan to save Pennard.”

“You do?” Kendra brightened. She was also glad when he slid an arm around her and led her around the wall to the more solid side of the bluff.

He stopped before the ruined tower where they’d made love, something that seemed like it had happened an eternity ago. Setting his hands on her shoulders, he looked down at her again, smiling now.

“I’m going to make a deal with Scotland’s Past.” He shook his head, touching a finger to her lips when she started to protest. “I’m going to offer them Castle Grath if they’ll drop their plans for Pennard.”

“Oh, no!” Kendra shook her head, horrified. “You can’t do that.”

“Och, sure I can.” He smiled, reaching to pull her back into his arms. “The place is falling down around itself. A heritage organization like Scotland’s Past will take good care of the site. I’ve no doubt they’ll jump at the chance to get the castle. Grath deserves to be visited and appreciated. I owe that much to these walls.”

“But you can’t stand Scotland’s Past.” Kendra still couldn’t wrap her mind around his idea.

“That’s true, but I love Grath more than I dislike them. Besides”—he winked—“I have some stipulations I’ll insist on.”

Kendra smiled at last. “And they are?”

He returned her smile. “I’ll demand that they arrange a good portion of all profits to flow into Pennard so the village can always be maintained without too much of a financial burden on the locals. And I’ll ask them to match the sum they would’ve spent on the Pennard Project and put it in an emergency trust for village residents in need. And?—”

“That’s quite a lot already.” Kendra loved it.

“I’ll also see that they sign over Lora Finney’s house so it can be turned into the lending library and tea room you suggested.” He cupped her chin, watching her face. “Lora was a good woman. She deserved better and would’ve loved seeing her books enjoyed.”

“And her prize-winning scones.” Kendra’s throat tightened with emotion. “Something tells me she’ll know what you’re doing and will be so glad.”

“There’s more.” His smile deepened. “I’ll insist they purchase Ramsay’s Spindrift and turn the house over to Aberdeen University so that a seal-research outpost can be set up there. I’ll make sure funds from Grath support that work. And”—he paused for a breath—“I’ll arrange for part of the Spindrift property to be converted into a rescue facility for injured and ailing seabirds.”

“Oh, Graeme.” Kendra blinked hard, thinking of Bart and the other seals and the countless seabirds that had delighted her during their boat outing along the coast. “That’s such a wonderful idea.”

And oh how she’d have loved to see it all happen.

That she wouldn’t be here made her eyes burn all the more. And when the first tear slipped down her cheek, she broke away from Graeme and turned aside, not wanting him to see her cry.

She never cried, didn’t like getting emotional.

But right now…

She took a long, deep breath, hoping Graeme wouldn’t notice how shaky it was.

Then, when she was sure her voice wouldn’t catch, she turned back around, determined to steer the subject in a different direction.

Needy animals always got to her, so seals and injured seabirds were something she didn’t want to touch on.

“You said you had an idea how to destroy the Shadow Wand?” There! His face turned instantly serious.

“Aye.” He strolled over to her, stopping about a foot away. “If I’m reading the spells right, the Grimoire has a few I can try that should cause the cavity inside the cliff to close. If that happens, the rock will press in on the wand, crushing it. Such a possibility wouldn’t have been possible before. But with Ramsay dead—and just so you know, I’ll tell the authorities he was up here searching about and must’ve fallen on his own—he was the last of his line, as far as I know.

“That means Morcant’s tainted blood ended with Ramsay. If the Grimoire has it correctly, the wand’s power dies when that befouled lineage runs out.

“So the wand can now be crushed, if I can cast the spell.” He looked aside, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean to try soon.”

“And the trapped souls?” Kendra wondered.

“Ach, well…” Graeme looked back at her. “Supposedly, they’ll be released, every last one of them. Of course, I won’t know for sure. How can I? Unless…”

He stepped closer, pulling her into his arms again. “Unless you’re around to watch and would see the souls leaving the cliff as they escaped. You should be able to do that.” He looked at her, lifting a brow.

“I should, yes.” She bit her lip, not trusting herself to say anything else.

Once Zack got word that the Pennard case was a wrap, it’d be time for her to fly home.

“When are planning on doing this?” She had to ask.

“As soon as possible, I think.” Something in his tone made her eyes blurry again. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to use your skill to soothe any disgruntled spirits that might decide to hang around once they’ve been released. Could you do that, encourage them to move along?”

She nodded. “I could, I’m sure.”

He looked pleased. “That’s good.” He glanced at Jock, who’d sidled over to them, tail wagging. “Jock’s been with me a long time, and the Keel’s just the right size for the two of us. Three wouldn’t be a problem, either, but it’d be a bit tight with so many spirits about if any of them took a liking to the cottage.”

Kendra only heard three wouldn’t be a problem. She blinked furiously, dashed at the dampness on her face. “What are you saying? It sounds”—she could hardly speak—“like you’re asking me to stay with you.”

“And if I was?” He grinned.

Jock barked, looking equally pleased.

“Oh, dear…” Kendra couldn’t see a thing.

“Is that your answer?” Graeme wiped her cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t know what you’re asking.” She had an idea, but she wanted to be sure.

“Hear that, Jock?” Graeme reached down to rub his dog’s ears. “She’s forgotten I told her how special she is last time we were up here. That I’ve never met anyone like her and haven’t ever felt this way about any other woman. And”—he turned back to her—“it also seems to have slipped your mind that I said I didn’t want you to leave, that we’d find some way for you to stay on here.”

Kendra took a long, steadying breath. “I remember all that.”

“Aye, right, then. What’s your answer?” He slanted a wink at Jock. “Will you make a man and his dog happy? Will you stay with us? For a while, at least? Long enough to see if you can tolerate the two of us on a permanent basis, settle in to life in a tiny Scottish fishing village?”

“I’d love to, but my work…”

“Have you ne’er heard how many ghosts haunt Scottish castles? Or roam our battlefields and glens?” His words made her heart pound, let her feel buoyant with hope. “I’ll speak with your employer, present him with an opportunity he couldn’t secure on his own.

“Your kind of work is cut out for you here.” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers. “If you’ll give it a go.”

“I…” She bit her lip, considering.

Jock grinned at her, his tongue lolling. It was a look she couldn’t refuse. As for the expression on his master’s face…

“Oh, Graeme…” She threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him. “I can’t think of anything I’d love more. Yes, yes—a thousand times yes!”

“Then let me kiss you, Kendra lass.” He took her face in his hands and did just that, kissing her long and deep as the night wind whistled past them, and the great North Sea breakers crashed against the shore.