Darkness Becomes Her (12 page)

She shook her head.

“Russell sent your father’s soul there. I could see it go.”

“You mean he could still be . . . alive? Or here, like Olaf?”

“I’m no’ alive,” Olaf said mournfully, head drooping. “Dead I am, ne’er to come back. My own kin sends me off like a bad dog what’s peed on the rug.”

Lachlan said, “For pity’s sake, I was testing your word.”

“Is that an apology?”

“You can take it that way.”

Olaf patted his chest. “Ye need me. Let my men down at Culloden, I did. Should have been ready for the enemy to come up on our flank at Culchunaig. Left us wide open to the loyalist Highlanders who betrayed us. Our own clansmen fought for the British. ’Twas shameful, it was.”

Lachlan realized that for Olaf, that had happened mere months ago. This cousin many times removed had died at roughly his age, fighting for what he believed in. Maybe it was as much their sense of failure as their hunger for battle that united them.

Still, it was the getting rid of him that worried Lachlan.

“Olaf, snap out of it,” Lachlan said. “You can’t do anything about that. You
can
help us now. Have you—”

“I had a lass, too. As bonnie as Jessie, she was, and a spitfire, too.”

Lachlan reined in his impatience. “Olaf, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sorry, that ye are. I get to live longer through ye, and ye hardly live at all. Not till she came along.”

Lachlan rolled his eyes again. “Can we focus? Have you heard of the Void?”

Olaf paused. “Dinna know what it’s called, but there’s a place, a dead area, if you will. Scary. I’ve felt it around the bloke what turns to the wolf. Like if the area got too close, I’d be sucked in.”

Jessie stepped closer. “You think my father is there?”

“Sounds like it. Olaf, how do we get there?”

“Dinna know. I can have a look.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it.

“Please.” She said the word on a breath.

After a pause, Olaf said, “I’ll try my best, lass.” His energy left Lachlan in a soft
whoosh
.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much, Jess. That was a long time ago.”

“I know. But if there’s a chance of bringing my father back to his body, I have to take it.”

“Of course you do.” He expected nothing less of her.

Chapter 12

L
achlan and Jessie waited for fifteen minutes for Olaf to return.

She spun her fingers in her hair, the movement growing faster as time ticked by. “He was worried about getting sucked in. What if he does?”

“Then we carry on. Instead of sitting round here worrying, let’s go into town so I can get that haircut.” He grabbed his black coat, tattered and bloody at the bottom edge, and paused. “My favorite one, too.”

“Sorry.”

He looked at her. “It’s just a piece of material. I’ve got others.”

She followed him through the kitchen and a dining room to another room. It was crammed with pictures, and too much furniture. He walked to the closet, and she looked at some of the pictures stacked on the floor. Family pictures, some posed, some candid. A folded blanket that looked so soft she
had
to touch it. Two televisions, a stereo system pushed off to the side. The stuff he’d taken out of his room.

He walked out of the closet holding a coat a lot like the ruined one. “Ready?”

“When are you going to stop punishing yourself?”

He looked at the coat. “It’s not that bad.”

“This is all your stuff, isn’t it? You took it out of your room so you could live like a monk. When does your self-imposed sentence end?”

“When I can get something right, for you and for Magnus.”

“When you sit out there meditating, what are you thinking about? I’ve tried meditation, and it’s damned hard to clear your mind completely for more than a second or three.”

“I ask God for forgiveness.”

“He’s pretty easy about that, you know. You ask, He forgives. You’re the hard-ass.”

“I know it’s not right asking someone’s forgiveness when I can’t forgive myself.”

Lachlan walked past her, leaving her to follow again. Fine, she’d follow. He punched in a code on the alarm pad, and they walked out to the garage. He entered a code for a bay that did not hold her vehicle. His vintage red truck was revealed inch by inch as the door rose.

He opened his door and carefully set the sword in the back. It had been scary when he’d grabbed the sword, an agonized ferocity in eyes that were clearly seeing something that wasn’t there. Her first instinct had been to run, but she was tired of running all the time. Running from Russell. From affection. From wanting Lachlan. So she’d taken hold of his wrists and stopped him. She felt stronger for it.

“Why swords?” she asked. “Because of your Scottish history?”

“That and I like the primitive feel of them. Broadswords were considered the darling weapon of the Scots. Their style was to rush onto the enemy. I don’t trust guns as a rule. They misfire, jam up. Dad trained us to shoot from early on. I held my first gun at age five.”

“Five? That’s ridiculous. And probably illegal.”

“We didn’t live by the rules of society. But to be clear, I’m talking BB guns. At least until we were ten. He wanted us to be able to protect ourselves. Not only from the man who was hunting him, but we did live way out in the woods. Bears, cats, crazy people . . . best to be prepared.”

She knew prepared. “My dad must have lived the same way, always looking over his shoulder. He didn’t teach me to shoot, but he gave me this symbol.” She ran her fingers over the cross in her skin under her shirt. “But Russell threw Darkness over me so I couldn’t hide.” It left her bereft, knowing that this symbol wasn’t protection. She’d had it carved into her skin for nothing.

“Don’t you see? It’s Darkness that lets you Fade. Your dad wasn’t ready to tell you that yet, so he came up with the symbol. That was easier for a kid to understand.”

She walked around to the passenger side and stopped at the sight of a car’s carcass and an array of parts all over the concrete floor in the last bay. “It looks like a car exploded.”

“A 1969 Camaro. That’s what I do.”

“Tear apart cars?”

He chuckled. “Aye, actually. Then put them back together. I buy old cars, rusting masses of metal, and make them pretty again. People pay a lot of money for a vintage car. Word got out and now they come to me with cars they want restored.”

She looked at all the pieces and realized there was a method to the chaos. “This truck is one of your projects, too?”

She saw a hint of pride as he patted the roof. “Just finished it.”

She turned back to the shell of the car. “So what got you into doing this? It must take a lot of time, and it’s probably a lot of work.”

“Aye, and that’s a good thing. I can lose myself in the process, and I get the satisfaction of seeing it through to a finished state. I take rusty, broken cars and make them shiny and whole again.”

She tilted her head, seeing his passion but also a yearning. “You do see the profundity of that, don’t you? That you take something broken and make it whole? That you’re drawn to that, feeling so broken yourself.”

He looked right at her. “No, dinna see it at all.” Then he got in.

She took one last look at the car and got into the truck. “You’re starting to sound like Olaf. Did you hear yourself just now?”

“I said ‘dinna.’ ” He shuddered. “Hope he’s not planning to take over my body. Russell used Darkness to do so with your dad. Don’t know if ghosts can do that as well.”

“Olaf lost his life, and sees you not living yours to the fullest. It bothers him.”

“Hopefully not enough to justify him taking me over.” He started the engine and looked at her. “I have something to live for at the moment.”

She shivered at those words. She had given him purpose. Well, her situation had, anyway.

She rolled his words around in her mind as he drove down the long gravel road. “You have a bit of brogue anyway. Magnus said he got his from your mom. Your ‘mum.’ ”

“Aye. She had a thick brogue, and being that we weren’t around other people, Magnus and I picked it up. Even Dad would sometimes slip into it when he was in a playful mood. Didn’t even know I had an accent until ladies commented on it when I went to town for supplies. ‘Ooh, I love your accent. Are you from Scotland?’ ”

She had to laugh at his impersonation of these “ladies” and the way he tilted his head, batting his eyelashes and fluttering his fingers. He seemed surprised at her laughter. He had a way of raising one eyebrow and giving her this adorable puzzled look with a hint of a smile.

“Mm, is that what they did?” she asked. “And you loved every second of it, too.”

He shrugged, his smile reserved. “It was alright. Magnus sucked it up more than I did.”

“Magnus is a flirt of the highest order. How did you and he end up being so different?”

“Curious, isn’t it, being we only had each other growing up? We were close, but different from the beginning. He craved connecting with other people. When we’d go to town for supplies or the occasional movie, he’d migrate to other kids and within minutes be playing with them like he’d known them for years.”

She flicked a piece of tartan material that was hanging on a chain from the rearview mirror. “You’re really okay with having no connections to people, to being alone?”

She remembered making a similar statement, and him refuting it. He nodded, and she thought maybe, just maybe, he meant it. Or believed it, in any case. “Aren’t you lonely?” Because she was. “I don’t understand how you can not be so lonely that sometimes you want to just shrivel up and die from it.”

“Like you?”

“Nah, I meant it in a general way.”

He’d obviously heard the emotion in her voice; he slowed to a stop. “You have us now.”

Those words caved in her chest, stole away her breath.
No, you can’t hold onto them.
“What if Magnus doesn’t want me anymore? What if he hates me?”

“I know my brother. He won’t hate you.”

“You don’t know him with Darkness. And if he blames us for making that decision, you’ll both hate me. There are too many variables. You can’t make that kind of sweeping statement.”

“I just did, though.”

She wanted to smack him on the arm; she wanted to crawl in his lap and hold on. What worried her most was that he would risk his life to save hers because he didn’t think his life was worthy. Because it would redeem him.

She threw herself back against the seat, arms crossed over her chest and eyes closed. “Just go.”

“You want me to leave?”

“No, I mean, keep driving.”

He was probably giving her a curious look now, and she fought not to look at him. The truck pulled out onto the road, and the smooth rumble of the engine lulled her into a doze. She got those dreams that weren’t really dreams but snippets of scenes or memories floating through. In one, Lachlan said,
You have us now,
and then kissed her like he had earlier. Her eyes snapped open and she saw he was watching her.

“You were making noises,” he said, “Like a cat purring.”

Enough of that. She reached into her bag and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m going to check in with Hayley, see how the carnival’s going.”

“It’s going great,” Hayley said a minute later, excitement in her voice. “I wish you could be here to see it, tons of people having fun. But there’s a lot of buzz and concern about what happened to the trailer and to you.”

They’d left it a mess, possibly with blood.
Cringe.
Lachlan’s blood.
Double cringe.

“What did you tell them?”

She didn’t like either of the stories, that she and Lachlan were having wild sex or that her uncle was stalking her.

“I didn’t know what to say.” The strain was evident in the poor girl’s voice.

Damn Russell. He’d spoiled it. Now all those people who thought she was so great would think she was so awful. “Tell them Lachlan and I went a little crazy. If they mention blood, I accidentally cut him.”

“But that’s not what happened, is it?” Hayley asked.

“I don’t want you involved, okay? Let’s leave it at a lapse in judgment, my wild side exploding. I’ll be in touch.”

“Please do, Jessie. No matter what you said . . . I don’t want to lose you in my life.”

The words tore at her. “I’ll talk to you soon. ’Bye.” Unless . . . dare she hope that they could kill Russell?

He took in her sad expression. “You alright?”

She always put on her everything’s fine facade, but she didn’t have to with Lachlan. “It’s so hard.” Except it felt strange, opening herself up that way. “I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. Saying goodbye is part of life.”

He saw right through it but said nothing as he continued to head down to where she worked. Used to work, anyway. Another lie to make up, another goodbye to say. He parked along the sidewalk. She got out, letting the sun warm her as the cool air embraced her. He started to reach in back for the sword but paused. “That’s not going to work, having the sword when I’m getting my hair cut. I’ll attach the dirk to the inside of the coat and hand it to you to hold.”

“Sure.” She looked at the sign:
MUSIC TRIPP
. Sighed. “I’d better get it over with. I feel terrible quitting without giving them notice. Can you give me a couple of minutes?”

“I’ll stay here.” He looked like a warrior, wide-legged stance, ready for anything.

She went in and found Glen Tripp talking to someone by the guitars. She waited, catching his surprised look.

He excused himself and walked over. “Hey, why aren’t you at the carnival? Toni and the girls are there now, probably looking for you.”

“I have to leave town. I’m so sorry, but I won’t be in next week.”

“Is everything all right?”

“It’s complicated. I don’t know when I’ll be back, and I don’t expect you to hold the job for me. But I’ve enjoyed working with you and the family.”

“Can I help?”

She sighed again. That’s what she liked about them; they were do-anything-for-you people, her dream family. She shook her head. “Just don’t be mad.”

“Of course not.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “But I’m worried about you. You’re the most conscientious worker we’ve ever had. Whatever is making you quit like this must be serious.”

Great, now she wanted to cry. She cleared her throat. “Tell Toni and the girls I said goodbye and that I’ll miss them.”

Lachlan took her in as she walked out. “That must have been hard.”

“Not really. The pay was pretty low. With my erratic work history, I can’t score a high-paying job. The Tripps are nice, but it was just another job.”

He totally surprised her by pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “Go on, have a cry.”

Damn, could she not cover any of her emotions? She closed her eyes and savored the feel of his comfort. For just a moment. Then she stepped back. “I never cry.”

“Never? Not even when—”

“Not even then. Let’s get your hair cut.”

They walked five storefronts down to
DORIS JEAN’S HAIR SALON AND GENERALLY COOL PLACE TO HANG OUT.
He regarded the sign.

“It is,” she said. “Doris cut my hair during the Locks of Love thing, which was the only way I could afford a real haircut. I started coming down on my breaks, having a cup of coffee, and . . . well, hanging out. They like to give me hair and makeup tips.” Doris was probably fifteen years older than her but seemed to take a motherly role with her. Jessie liked it.

She reached for the door, but he beat her to the handle and pulled it open. “I forget gentlemen are supposed to do this sort of thing. I’ve been remiss.”

“Yes. Yes, you have.”

He gave her a sheepish look, no doubt thinking of all the ways he’d been remiss.

Doris, a bundle of energy who seemed bigger than her five-foot-two frame, squealed and came running over in her four-inch heels. “Jessie!” She started to give her a hug but stopped at the sight of Lachlan behind her. Her smile morphed to a predatory one. “Well, well, who’s this?”

“Lachlan,” Jessie said before he could.

He took in the gazes of every female in the place, including the clients who were getting treatments. “Uh, hello.”

Doris thrust her chest out and took several ministeps over to shake his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” She reached out and took hold of a lock of his hair with her other hand. “What gorgeous hair you’ve got. Please tell me you’re here for a service.”