Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (7 page)

“Ouch!” I’d caught my hand on some thorns.

I flinched and saw a big drop of blood squirt from my finger. It was as red as the flowers on the rosebush. I quickly put my finger in my mouth, but the taste of copper on my tongue made me queasy.

I opened my eyes and stared down at my hands. Blood, hot and slimy, gushed onto the dagger—and onto me.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to shake the strange feeling of having a flashback to my fainting episode at Roy and Alison’s house. All right, back to the inscription.

“Mora, Fia, Gillian, Robena, and Alba,” I muttered.

I felt sick to my stomach, and I held on to the stone to keep from keeling over. A drop of blood fell onto the stone, seeped into it, fused with it—and with the intensely bright appearance of an all-consuming blaze, my world ceased to exist.

Light.

Pain.

Nothing else.

I seemed to fall without moving, without actually falling, without even existing. There was nothing. My body and mind had come apart, and they were carried away on burning wings while simultaneously being torn to shreds by an icy fist.

“Payton,” I wanted to scream—but I had no voice or even air to breathe, no consciousness that could have made any of this possible. And still it was as if I were slowing down in my fall into this bottomless, bright abyss. I could no longer even control my thoughts.

Everything was bright, so bright. I myself seemed to be made of only light. All my senses were superimposed with this painfully intense luminosity. My lungs were filled with liquid gold, and my blood was a white-hot liquid coursing through my veins. The light expanded, trying to break out of me like a baby bird hatching from its shell. If I had been able to think straight, then this is what I would have thought:

I’m dying.

A while later, I became aware of coldness around me.

And a long time after that, dampness.

Eventually sounds became audible again to my brain, and in a daze I opened my eyes and sighed a breath of relief. It was almost dark. I could not have taken seeing that intense brightness again. But what had happened? Every one of my bones hurt as if they were all broken, and it took an enormous amount of effort just to blink.

Had I passed out again as I had at Roy and Alison’s house? I sat up slowly, moaning in pain, and the world around me blurred. Blink, blink. Finally, my surroundings shifted into focus. Where were Payton and Sam? How long had I been out? Judging by the fading daylight, it had to be late in the evening, and the two of them must have noticed by now that I was missing.

“Payton? Sean?” I called, flinching at the sound of my own voice. I definitely felt like I had suffered a concussion. Still, I strained my neck to look for them. No reply came, and I was terrified. I shook my head. Pain throbbed in my temples, and I tried to suppress my rising panic.

Panic. Obviously my subconscious self was already aware of what had happened. It had been something seemingly impossible—but it had happened nevertheless.

No, no, no.

I squinted and touched my head.
I have a concussion, that is all.

There had to be a logical explanation for Payton and Sean leaving me behind. They went to get help. Went to call an ambulance or something. They’d be back any minute now and would laugh if they knew about the crazy thoughts trying to take over my mind. All I had to do was keep calm and sit still. That thought managed to calm me down for a moment or two. But then I opened my eyes again, and I seemed to be seeing my surroundings for the very first time.

That was when I knew.

I was in a crap ton of trouble.

In complete hysterics, I struggled to my feet, ignoring the stabbing pain. Standing on wobbly legs, I threw up all over my shoes. My mind fought against everything it was being forced to realize. It fought tooth and nail against the truth that lay right there in front of me.

Shaking, I bent over and spat out the rest of the bile in my mouth. Then I sank back into the grass, wrapped my arms around my knees, and waited for the panic to subside. I shook and shivered uncontrollably while crying for what seemed like an eternity.

Meanwhile, the world around me had gone pitch-black into the night. But instead of feeling frightened, I found comfort in knowing that the truth lay hidden beneath a cloak of darkness. That was when my mind was at long last able to grasp what had happened. Slowly, I comprehended that I had not only found an important marker to the portal through time, but that I had in fact traveled the entire length of the goddamn journey.

As soon as I allowed this thought, I felt calm again. I breathed in the air that was essentially old and part of history, but I soon realized that it filled my lungs and enriched my blood with oxygen, just like the air back in my own world. Which somehow seemed comforting.

And so, under the cover of darkness, I tried to familiarize myself with my state of affairs. I knew where I was—but not
when
. I hoped that this portal would not prove to be a one-way street—that I’d be able to take the road back to from where I’d come. But would I have enough courage? I couldn’t remember the horrors I’d already lived through without feeling scared to the core. Still, I was determined to get back to where I belonged as quickly as possible. And then I would tell Sean how he could save Payton.

All I had to do was return.

Although my body had just released its largest-ever dose of adrenaline, I suddenly felt excessively tired. Comforted by the possibility of a way out, I relaxed enough for sleep to take over and heal my broken body and my exhausted mind. As I gave in, I hoped to wake up and find out all this had just been a dream.

C
HAPTER
9

T
he screech of the wiper blades broke through the silence in the car. Payton and Sean stared into the night through the fogged-up windshield. Their soaking-wet clothes clung to their bodies and left wet patches on the car seats. The rain was relentless. Hours ago the clouds had opened the floodgates and transformed the small cemetery into a muddy boneyard.

Once the brothers had noticed Samantha’s disappearance, they immediately started looking for her, combing every square inch of the place but to no avail. She had disappeared into the fog like a ghost, leaving no trace. They didn’t give up, even in the heavy rain. When night fell, they finally admitted that their search had been unsuccessful. Still, they couldn’t bring themselves to return to the castle—they wanted to be
here
in case Sam reappeared.

With every passing hour, Payton grew more desperate. What if she was dead? Neither of them wanted to voice that thought. Was it even possible that Sam had found the portal of time and had traveled somewhere into the past? It seemed much more likely that the druid’s magic spell had killed her, and that neither Payton nor Sean would ever see her again.

“What are we going to do now?” Sean finally spoke.

Payton’s expressionless face was his reply.

Sean wasn’t surprised that Payton would once again blame himself for everything. Payton was obviously cursing himself for not having protected Sam. His younger brother had not uttered a single word since noticing her disappearance. But Sean also discerned that Payton had given his all and could take no more. Nathaira’s curse was stronger than Sean had thought.

When Payton showed no reaction even as his cell phone vibrated with an incoming call, Sean grabbed it and answered.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is Payton McLean,” he lied, and listened to the caller.

“Uh-huh…yes, I see. That is impossible. I’m afraid I’m no longer in the States.…I understand. Thank you for calling. Yes, I hope you’re wrong about that. Thank you.”

Feeling utterly defeated, Sean hung up and stared at the rain running down the windshield.

“Who was that?”

Sean was glad they were side-by-side in the car. He didn’t think he could give his brother the bad news while looking him in the eyes.

“That was Dr. Lippert from the hospital in Milford, Delaware.”

“So? What did he want?”

Sean fidgeted in his seat.

“He wanted to examine you. Double-check some numbers. Said there was something wrong with your blood work.”

“
Pog mo thon!
I’m not going anywhere. Plus, nobody needs to tell me there’s something wrong with me. I know that already!”

Sean finally turned to his brother, and when their eyes met he couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer.

“He gives you a month. At most.”

Payton blinked. Then he nodded and opened the driver’s door. Before Sean could say anything, Payton had exited the car.

Sean knew immediately where Payton would want to spend the next few weeks. Sean also knew he wouldn’t be able to stop Payton from spending his final days in the presence of his beloved Sam.

Sean flinched when the phone rang again. He was relieved to hear Blair’s voice on the other end.

“It’s a good thing you called. I’m afraid we need you here. Payton is in really bad shape. I just talked with the doctor, and he confirmed our worst fears. It seems Payton is suffering from a mystery illness that nobody’s ever seen before.”

“
A Dhia, thois cpbhair!
I can’t believe it! I’ll be glad to be with you again. How is Payton taking it?” the eldest brother asked anxiously.

“He seems to have accepted his fate, but something else is killing him right now,” Sean explained.

“What could be worse than that?”

Sean took a deep breath. He couldn’t tell Blair over the phone what had happened to Sam. Sam’s fate was hard enough to accept even if you had experienced it firsthand. So he tried to be vague.

“I’ll tell you when you get here. When are you coming?”

“The sentencing hearing was yesterday. Neither Cathal nor Alasdair has to go to prison for kidnapping Ashley. But they’ve been sentenced to leaving the country right away. That’s why I’m calling. We’ll be on the plane in an hour. I’m taking Cathal to Galthair, and then I’ll come meet you as quickly as I can.”

“I don’t understand how you can stick with him,” Sean replied, stunned. “He’s the reason that Nathaira murdered our brother!”

“Cathal has been my good friend since we were little. He has not gotten over his own sister being a cold-blooded killer. And I have forgiven Nathaira with all of my heart. After everything she told us at the motel, it’s a miracle she managed to hide her hatred and insanity for so long. At the mercy of a stepmother as a child, only to find out that her real mother was a witch. As for her father…a brutal tyrant.” Blair paused for a moment. “It hasn’t always been easy for us, Sean, but I would not want to trade places with her. She’s a victim, too.”

Sean snorted with contempt.

“Bah! Even if there was a grain of truth to any of this, I’d advise you not to talk to Payton this way. Maybe she was a victim, maybe she wasn’t—but the fact is that
her
hatred is killing him slowly and in the most painful way.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Sean knew that Blair was stuck in an emotional quandary. He had always adored Nathaira.

“She made us all suffer. The fact that she blamed Cathal for everything, that she did it all for him, is too much for him. Of course he wanted to lead the clan. After all, he was the firstborn and destined to do it. But he would never have approved for one of us to die just so he could be clan chief,” Blair said quietly.

Sean shook his head at Blair’s ignorance, but he didn’t feel like engaging in a long, complicated discussion right now.

“Listen, I have to get to the gate. I know where you are. I’ll join you as quickly as I can. In the meantime, please look after our little brother, aye?”

“Sure.”

Sean hung up the phone and stared at the display for a long time.

Soon Blair, Cathal, and Alasdair would be back in Scotland. But none of them would really be going home. Because everything had changed.
They
had changed.

C
HAPTER
10

Scotland, by the shore of Loch Duich; October 1740

T
he fog billowed, gray and sinister over the hills. It was so dense that you couldn’t even see your hands before your eyes. The panicked mooing of cattle mingled with the angry barks of dogs. They sounded like dark, diabolical characters that had entered a dank and murky underworld and were stomping through the black smoke of a fiery inferno. The only thing missing from this hellfire was the smell of sulfur and brimstone.

“Come on! This way, you damn cows,” Duncan Stuart said, his voice thundering through the fog.

If all of this seemed like a hellish depiction of Plato’s cave, then Duncan Stuart was the inevitable demon. He was tall and dark, with eyes black as a moonless night. And this demon was in excellent company, for Dougal Stuart’s appearance was in no way inferior to that of his twin brother. He was a giant man, too, and possessed just as much physical strength. His black hair was shorter than his brother’s, his chin covered in dark stubble, and his jawline even more pronounced and strong.

“Every cow accounted for? Then close it.”

After closing the gate behind their cattle, Dougal scraped some cow dung from his boot and cursed.

“All right, all done.”

Duncan nodded approvingly. One of the dogs came up to them and started sniffing at Duncan’s boot. This earned him a good kick in the side that sent him scampering back to his pack with his tail between his legs.

“Ross, call back your damn dogs already. I’m warning you,” Duncan hollered.

One blow of the whistle, and the entire pack disappeared into the fog. Duncan raised his eyebrows in disdain. The dogs would surely knock skinny Ross to the ground again as soon as they jumped up on him.

“Come on, we have to get a move on. I don’t think these cowards of the Cameron clan dare attack us if they value their lives at all, but I’ll still be glad to be back on my own land,” he grumbled.

Dougal pushed himself off the gate and adjusted the plaid around his shoulders.

“All right, then. We’ll get our things from the cabin and be on our way. We have a good distance to cover before we meet up with the others. I don’t think they’d be overjoyed that we are missing some cows again!”

With a sullen expression, Duncan followed his brother in the direction of the horses. Ross Galbraith was already waiting, reins in hand, and with a whole lot of dogs by his side. They hadn’t really wanted to take their useless half brother along, but without his dogs, it would have been hard to round up the cattle in this kind of weather.

It was impossible to tell that Ross was related to them. He was scrawny and angular, with bright red hair and pale skin. And despite being seventeen years old, he still lacked the raw, masculine strength of his two brothers. He was like a puppy with long legs and a head far too big for his small body.

Dougal yanked the reins from Ross’s hands and swung himself onto his horse. Not a moment later, Duncan followed suit and drove his boots deep into his horse’s side to urge it on. Over his shoulder he called:

“Ross, if those flea-infested dogs of yours can’t keep up, I will leave them behind. You hear me? We need to make haste.”

Quickly, so as to not further annoy his brothers, Ross mounted his horse and whistled for his beloved dogs. The journey to come would be long. He hoped it wasn’t too long for his furry, four-legged friends.

To him, they were much more than simple herding dogs. They were the only friends he had in the world.

The cold had seeped into my skin and made me shiver. I massaged my arms and struggled to get up from the cold, damp ground.

“Dammit!”

My pants were cold and wet, too, and they clung to my legs. Wishing I still had that rain jacket, I wiped clumps of earth from my butt and took a good look around. I couldn’t make out much in this thick fog, but one thing was for sure: The old cemetery was gone.

Dense bushes of Scotch broom spread as far as my eyes could see, but the chapel, cemetery wall, and gravestones were nowhere in sight. The only thing still around was the rough-hewn memorial stone of the five sisters right in the middle of not much. Absolutely nothing else reminded me of the place I’d left in a swirl of magic. God only knew where I had landed.

I tried to get a sense of direction, but after taking only a few steps I was forced to admit to myself that I had no idea where I had even started out. The fog was so dense that I could be walking in circles. I couldn’t even see the big stone anymore because I’d focused on handling the uneven terrain instead of on where I was going.

My stomach grumbled, and I realized that I hadn’t eaten in ages. Just as a new panic attack tried to grab me with its angry claws, I spotted the outline of a building. I quickly ducked under the next shrub of Scotch broom.

Would I be able to get help here? I had to find out where and, most important,
when
I was. And I really needed some food. But, if I had really landed in the past, I couldn’t just walk up to that lonely old stone cottage and knock on the door. The people here had most certainly never heard of the Black Eyed Peas, whose funky faces were printed on my tank top—and my jeans would probably even raise more questions than I’d like under the circumstances.

Dammit! When we’d planned to send Sean into the past, we wanted to dress him in period-appropriate clothes and equip him well before he started a dangerous journey into the unknown. But me? I sat here wearing nothing but a thin, faded tank top, a pair of blue jeans, and a dagger that I would sooner cut myself on than be able to use for defense. Still, I found the weight of it on my belt comforting. Anyway, I wouldn’t stay here long and with any luck I wouldn’t get myself into a situation where I would have to defend myself. I just had to find something to eat and practice a little patience until the fog lifted. Then I could find my way back to the cemetery and to my own century. I didn’t just need to go back for my own sake, but also for Payton’s. Sean urgently needed to know that there really was a way.

I crawled closer to the stone cottage. It looked abandoned. Nothing stirred, and no sound came from it at all. I pulled myself together and tiptoed to the side of the structure, but even from here I couldn’t see or hear anything. I walked all the way around the humble building that leaned, crookedly, to the side. I looked around surreptitiously—but when everything stayed peaceful and still, necessity won over caution.

I pulled open the door of a wooden shed attached to the cottage. I peered into the darkness. A startled mouse darted between my feet, and the quiet rustle in a corner hinted at yet more unpleasant company. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and everything smelled of dust. Initially having held my breath, I finally dared to breathe out and enter the shed.

My worries were unfounded. Nobody had lived in this place for a long time. The barrels in front of me were filthy, and thick dust covered every available surface. Mice seemed to have chewed through some of the boxes over in the corner, the elusive content of which had spilled out and over the floor. Very faintly I was able to make out the aromatic scent of herbs, and a dried bunch of some kind of plant hung from the low ceiling. When the top of my head accidentally touched it, the bone-dry leaves crumbled and rained down on me.

Swiftly, I went farther in. It didn’t look like there was anything edible around here. Whatever may have been stored in the barrels at some point, it was surely spoiled by now. My stomach protested loudly against this sad realization. Maybe I’d have more luck inside the cottage proper.

Just as I wanted to step back outside using the narrow doorway, the sound of loud barking made me come to a terrified stop.

“Shit!” I gasped.

Under no circumstances did I want to get caught here. Not only was I afraid of being mistaken for a thief, but the way I was dressed was probably enough for me to be burned alive at the stake. I pulled the door closed and was happy to have what little light came through the cracks and gaps in the wooden planks.

The sounds kept getting nearer. By now I could hear horses’ hoofbeats as well. My mind went into overdrive. I couldn’t hide in here. If anyone were to open the door, they would see me and I’d be doomed. They would take me for a witch, because how else would I explain my strange clothes, my surely anachronistic language, and my complete lack of knowledge about the customs and traditions of this place and era?

Hoping to hide behind one of the wooden boxes, I pushed it away from the wall, and its rotten lid broke off. I spied some coarsely woven fabric and quickly pulled away the rest of the wooden slats.

Male voices were now very close by.

“Fuck!”

Frantically, I dug through the box, trying not to make a sound. My hands were shaking. I grabbed piece of cloth by piece of cloth, until at long last I found something. It was some kind of a housedress, extremely simple and shapeless, but probably perfectly suitable for everyday life and work in the eighteenth century.

I pulled the scratchy fabric over my head, glad that I didn’t have to wear it directly on my skin. I hurriedly smoothed down the skirt part of it over my pants and all the way down to my feet. But unfortunately that didn’t work. My pants were clearly visible under the dress. Even though everything inside me struggled against taking them off, I really had no choice. Some kind of ribbon or belt around the waist would have given this sackcloth a little more shape, but if there was one thing I wanted to avoid, it was showing these men that I actually had a waist.

And so I tied a very loose knot and hoped that the wide, loose-fitting cut would look as unflattering as possible, while at the same time hiding the dagger that I’d tied to my upper thigh with my belt.

I gave a terrified start when I suddenly heard angry barking right outside the door. I could hear the dogs scratching up against the wood. I ducked behind a barrel and tried to make myself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

“What is it, girl? What did you find? Is there a big juicy rat in there?”

The whining and scratching continued, and the man laughed.

“All right, then, if you insist. Go get it!”

The door ripped open and, because my eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, I was blinded for a moment. Then I saw the man. I looked him square in the eye just as the giant dog pushed me to the ground and stood over me, snarling and baring its teeth. Thick saliva dripped from its mouth right onto my cheek, and I screamed. Screamed for my life.

The angry, slobbering beast was pushed aside, and I saw that pale, freckled face again. I felt nauseated, numb, and paralyzed. As I screamed, I couldn’t even manage to lift my arms to block the fist I saw coming in for a blow.

Darkness swallowed me whole, but it wasn’t kind. Haunting images flooded my mind, brought to life by the throbbing pain in my temple.

I was holding the knife tightly clutched in my hand. I had thrust it in so deep that my fist touched the lifeless chest of the man, and I could feel that the heart underneath my fingers had stopped beating. A single word flashed through my addled brain: betrayal.

I lifted my head and looked into his eyes. A tear, burning hot like melting metal, burned its way down my cheek and fell, unhindered, onto the blood-soaked earth.