Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Orla

I 'd waited until I was certain Fin was in the castle, meeting with Munroe, and my crew had dispersed for the day. Sneaking around the side of the distillery, I made a beeline for the abandoned cottage, sticking to the tree line so I'd stay out of sight of the castle.

It wasn't that I was trying to hide this from Finlay necessarily. It was more that I knew how scared he'd been due to his encounter in the building. I didn't want to subject him to those memories again, and I knew he'd come storming into the outbuilding if he found out I was in there. He was a protective sort, Fin was, and most of the time I liked it, even if I didn't fully know what to do with the feelings that arose in me because of his actions. I'd never had someone fuss over me before, and I had to admit, it was kind of nice. Unusual, but nice .

The cottage stood, silent and waiting, the canopy of trees hanging over it thicker here than in other parts of the expansive grounds. We'd need to clear some branches back and open up some space to walk around the building, if this was going to be a tasting room of sorts, as an outdoor garden with a few cozy tables would certainly be charming. Who would resist sipping a gin and tonic with the pretty view of the castle and gardens in the background? Stopping at the door, I closed my eyes and reached for that gentle ball of energy I'd found inside of myself when Miss Elva had taught me a spell for the Auld Mill. I didn't quite know what I was doing, but I'd done a little research, and it seemed like so long as I carried magick and my intention was pure, I'd likely be able to clear the cottage of whatever, or whomever, haunted it. Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on the ornate handle.

The door swung open, not even a squeak to the rusted hinges, and I narrowed my eyes. Suspicious .

I stepped inside and into another world.

Barely registering the door slamming behind me, I gaped at the cheerful fire burning in the grate, and the woman who stirred a cast-iron pot. Turning, she smiled at me.

My heart dropped.

What. The. Hell?

She had my eyes.

It was impossible to miss. The soft burnt ginger hair, the way her nose turned up slightly at the end.

"My child. You've finally come home."

Pressing my lips together, I stood, my back to the door, making no further movement into the room. I had come in, fully prepared to rid the cottage of a potentially scary ghost. What I hadn't expected was to encounter my own ancestor.

"I'm not your child." I needed to clarify this with the woman, in case insanity was making her see something different from what I was.

"No, I don't suppose you are." Something shifted in her eyes, lines deepening in her face, and her mouth turned down in anger. "You're one of mine, though, aren't you? The bastard kept you."

"I'm not certain what you mean." Still I stood, my hand at my hammer, and waited, as the woman picked up a small vial and added something to her cauldron, muttering beneath her breath.

"You're of his blood. And mine. Whether you know it or not."

"Who?"

"Your great-great-great-grandfather. A fancy Lord he was. Posh as could be. Couldn't be seen trifling with the likes of me." Her lips pressed together, harsh lines forming at the corners.

"What is your name?" I asked, my pulse picking up. I knew nothing of my history, and if this was true, at the very least she might be able to piece some bits together for me.

"Marie. A common name to be sure of it. Or a witchy one, if that's your way of thinking. It was theirs, you ken?"

"Aye," I said, shifting slightly on my feet. Marie tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot, and then laid it on the table. Turning, she dried her hands on a rag and then looked me up and down.

"You'll never find a man dressed like that."

I still wore my overalls from work, and my tool belt at my waist.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I don't suppose it is." Marie pursed her lips, considering my words. "Maybe you're smarter than I was. Caught up in what I thought was love. Above my place, of course. He used to come visit me. In the afternoons. One warm summer day we snuck off to the meadow together. Never have I loved more."

"You fell pregnant."

"Aye." Marie shook her head, her eyes clouded. "It was, well, it was magickal. Though I shouldn't much be using that term, should I? If you speak of magick, they find you. They burn you. Hang you. Drown you. Fair trial or not, you're a dead woman walking as soon as they put the mark on you."

"Who did that to you?" I asked, sadness seeping through me. Scotland had a dark history with witch trials, and I was beginning to understand what might have happened to Marie.

"He did. Och, maybe not." Marie waved a hand in the air, her eyes flashing. "More likely the Lady did. She wasn't much for supporting other women. Particularly when I carried his bairn."

I wanted to point out that maybe the Lady had loved her Lord and his cheating had broken her heart, but it didn't seem prudent to do so. Arguing with a ghostly ancestor, one who had already been proven to be dangerous, wasn't a wise strategy.

"What happened?" I asked instead, since Marie appeared to be in a chatty mood. I reached cautiously into my pocket, fingering the bag of herbs for protection that Miss Elva had given me. Gris-gris, she'd told me, and I hoped it held strong.

"I birthed her, didn't I? My beautiful daughter. Worthless to him. He'd waited, you see? His Lady hadn't given him an heir yet. But once my daughter had arrived, well, it wasn't enough." Marie shrugged, but her face was anything but nonchalant. Anger warred with sadness, and I lifted a hand.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"The world is an unkind place, blood of mine."

"Not always," I whispered, though I'd seen more unkindness than most. If I fully believed that there was no good, however, I'd never find happiness. An image of Goldie flashed in my mind, happily booping her pirate ship, and then Fin's face. Warmth flooded me. A reminder of some of the good I'd known.

"Och, that's a face in love." Marie barked out a laugh, stepping forward, and I visibly saw the shift in her. "Careful, child of my blood. They always lie. And when they find out who you are? The power that runs in your veins? They'll kill you for it."

"It's not the same now," I said, though her words sent a shiver down my spine. "They don't prosecute witches anymore."

"Och, aren't you the lucky one then?" Marie threw her head back and laughed, her hair spiraling out around her, and when she dropped her chin back down, madness careened in her eyes. "Because I was murdered for it. On this very spot, while my babe cried for me in the corner."

"I'm sorry," I said again, helpless to offer any other support. What could I say? She'd been horribly wronged, but I couldn't make it right.

"He'll do the same. As soon as he sees what you are…he'll never be able to love you."

Right, enough of this. I caught a flash of movement and the Green Lady appeared behind Marie.

You need to move her on. She'll hurt you out of sheer jealousy. If she can't have happiness, nobody can.

Marie whirled, spying the Green Lady, and raised her arms, a scream spiraling from her very core.

There's blood magick here, Orla. You'll need to use your own.

I gaped as the Green Lady winked out of sight and Marie whirled, fury radiating from every inch of her body. A smile pulled the corners of her mouth up, adding to her fierceness, and I froze as a layer of ice coated the cottage. It even encased the fire, though the flames still danced behind a thin layer of ice, and I realized that I was dealing with a deeply powerful ghost. This was nothing like I had seen in the past, and though Marie wasn't as physically intimidating as the nuckelavee had been, her immense power had me rooted to the spot as my brain scrambled to figure out how I was going to banish her.

"If I couldn't have joy, neither should you," Marie hissed, and I ducked as an icicle flew across the room and shattered over my shoulder.

I needed to crack on with some magick here because this was definitely not an apparition. The sting of ice shards against my face informed me that this was very much real, no matter how much I wished that it wasn't.

"That's not a very nurturing sentiment for your own blood," I said, vying for time as I pulled the gris-gris bag out of my pocket. "Shouldn't you want the daughter of your daughters to find happiness?"

Marie gaped at me, incredulous.

"We witches aren't destined for a normal life, child. You'll only know pain. Why don't you come join me? On this side? At least we'll have each other then, won't we?"

Oh hell no.

I quickly sprinkled salt at my feet, praying that I made some semblance of a circle around me, and then rattled off the quickest circle protection spell that I could think of.

"I call on the East, South, West, and North to protect this circle I stand in."

"A spell? What is this? You call this a spell?" Marie threw her head back and laughed once more and I shouted when a small icicle dropped onto my head, splitting it open. A warm rivulet of blood seeped down my face, blurring one eye, and sweat broke out down my back. So much for a protective circle.

Reaching up, I wiped blood from my eye, and it dripped onto the protective bag that I had. I remembered the Green Lady's words. There's blood magick here, Orla. You'll need to use your own.

My own blood to banish those who came before me. Could this be more appropriate? Finally I meet kin of mine, and I have to send her packing. How many times would the universe bash me over the head with the understanding that family wasn't everything? Blood meant nothing if the heart cared only for itself.

Again, Goldie flashed in my head. Jacob. Grandpa Lou. Then Derrick, my head joiner. Fin. Sophie. Shona. And so on. Faces of people who I'd allowed myself to care for, even when I knew I'd lose them someday. Because even if everyone did eventually leave, love still mattered. And the hodgepodge family that I'd pieced together had somehow become the ones that I loved, deeply, and would always do so. For a woman who'd been given no roots, I finally understood that I had to grow my own.

Marie shrieked again. I needed to do something, quick, or I might not make it out of here alive. She was raging now, tossing icicles around the room, whirling with her hands outstretched to the ice-coated ceiling, her screams ricocheting around the ice cave she'd formed inside the cottage.

"Blood of my blood, mother of my own, the time has now come, to send you on home."

Marie froze as light flashed, the ice shattering around us, the cottage restored to its normal state.

As in normal in the now. No fire warmed the grate, no furniture filled the room. Marie's image flickered in front of me, like a television set with bad reception, and her eyes filled with sadness.

"My own blood…you, too, would banish me."

"You seemed to have no problem hurting me," I said, wiping the blood from my eye again.

"Foolish woman." Marie's grin stretched open, and I understood I needed to do more magick.

"It is with my blood?—"

"He comes for you." Marie threw her head back and laughed.

"That I now shall send?—"

"He'll never love you." Marie danced in a circle, madness consuming her .

"Those who came before?—"

"Once he sees. He'll betray you. Just as I was betrayed." Her laughter shook the building, and I whirled as the door blew open, showing Fin standing there, his hand raised as though to knock. His eyes widened as Marie shrieked with laughter, and I turned back, needing to finish the spell before all hell broke loose.

"On their way out the door."

Listen, it wasn't the prettiest spell, but Miss Elva told me intent was everything. And my intent to move Marie on seemed to work, because once more, light flashed, and Marie disappeared from sight, her laughter lingering in the air, like dust particles caught in a beam of sunlight. I struggled to catch my breath. I didn't want to turn and look at Fin. I couldn't handle what was about to come.

Because I knew, as much as I knew that I could love my found family of hodgepodge friends, that he would leave me now that he saw who I was. I'd lied to him, all these weeks, hiding this power from him. And now he knew who I truly was. Trembling, I turned, wiping my face once more. I had to imagine I looked a fright, sweating and bloody, the soft burnt smell of magick used shifting in the air around us.

"What the hell?" Fin asked, crossing to me, and I stopped him, raising a hand.

"Don't. I have to close the circle." When his face shuttered, hiding his emotions from me, I wanted to weep. Quickly, I recited a short closing spell, muttering the words under my breath before I stepped from the circle of salt at my feet. Fin's eyes trailed down to the salt and then back up to my face .

He looked amazing. As he always did. Polished and posh, and the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Both familiar friend and stranger, and I had no idea what to say to him. My mouth worked as the silence grew between us, as we both struggled to understand what had just happened. What I'd inadvertently revealed to him.

And how I'd lied to him by withholding this part of myself from him.

"Are you all right?" Fin gestured lamely in the air, nodding at my head, and I pressed my lips together. This distance from a man who would rush to care for me when I got a sliver. Now, he stood back, the distance both noticeable and as sharp as a knife slicing through my heart.

"Yes," I said softly, though I wasn't. Not even close. I forced myself to box off my emotions, a tool I'd long used through the years, and lifted my chin, refusing to cry.

"What are you?" Fin asked, his voice a rasp in the stillness of the cottage.

"I'm a House Witch. A member of the Order of Caledonia, tasked with protecting Loren Brae."

"I don't even know what that means."

"No, I don't suppose you do."

"You have magick. Actual magick?" Fin's eyes implored me to tell him anything but.

"Aye."

Fin stepped back, and my heart broke.

"You hid this from me."

"Aye." There was nothing else I could say. I was wrong, oh so wrong to have kept this part of myself from him.

"You're…you're a witch? An actual witch? And you never said one bloody word to me. After I shared so much of myself with you. I can't… I just can't." Fin wiped a hand over his face, his expression a mixture of sadness and agony.

"Fin…I…" I raised a hand, my emotions fighting with my thoughts and clogging the words in my throat.

"Don't, Orla. Just don't. I can't…I just…" Fin stepped backward, outside the cottage, and looked at me. "Get out here."

"Fin, please. You have to understand…" I raised a hand, but he just shook his head.

"Please get out of the cottage so I know you're safe."

I did what I was told, my legs moving mechanically, until we both stood, shrouded by the canopy of branches over our heads.

"I'm sorry?—"

"Don't. I'm not ready to hear it." Fin's voice vibrated with fury, and I flinched. Even though I knew this would be goodbye, I had hoped for some understanding from him. If only he'd let me explain. Instead, without another word, Fin turned on his heel and stomped away, leaving me, broken-hearted and bloody, on the steps of where my ancestor was murdered.

Marie's laughter carried to me on the wind.

"He'll do the same. As soon as he sees what you are…he'll never be able to love you."