The Curse: Touch of Eternity (The Curse series) (26 page)

Suddenly, lightning struck in the sky. I could see through the window that the whole horizon was covered in powerful blue lightning. An icy wind blew through the kitchen, tore the locked door off of its hinges and pulled at my gown. The copper pots above the fireplace banged loudly against each other and crashed to the ground. That noise would undoubtedly lead the warriors here! I grabbed my bundle, pressed you close to me, and stepped through the door, out into the darkness of the night.

Not far from the wall, tied to a small tree, was a gray mare. Where it came from or who had tied it there, I cannot tell you, even today. I can only assume it was Vanora. I had never sat on a horse before, and my fear of the animal was almost as big as my fear of the warriors. But I had been given a task: to protect you. Therefore, I didn’t delay, didn’t look back, but rode off with you. I rode the whole night and the whole next day, stopping only to feed you or let the horse drink some water. As if on a string, I was pulled further and further, until we finally reached the border to England many days later. I would have thought us safe there, but the pendant burned hotly in my hand, and I remembered that this meant we were still in danger. So we prepared to keep moving, and leave England as well.

Many weeks passed—weeks during which we were so cold we almost froze, so hungry we almost starved, and so tired we could hardly stay on our feet. But when we rode over a hill one evening, instead of evergreen fields and dark forests, we finally instead saw water on the horizon. Behind that lay France, and for the first time since we had left our home did the pendant cool down.

I shut the book. With trembling fingers I put my hand up to my throat. The necklace lay cool and hard in my hand. I couldn’t believe it. This was real life—my life. Was I going
crazy? Everything in my world was turning upside down, and then around and around again.

It was difficult to summon the courage to keep on reading. The handwriting of the nanny, Marta, got weaker and weaker from line to line. Anxiously, I flipped ahead a few pages. This was obviously someone else’s writing. The letters were no longer small and jagged but large, energetic, and strong.

Boston, 1760

I am Muireall Cameron. Twelve years ago I came here, to this beautiful country, with this book, my pendant, and only a handful of other belongings. My nanny, Marta, was unfortunately not able to live long enough to see my embarkation to this new world, but in her place, Sarah accompanied me. She looked after me on the boat and when we came on land together, she decided to stay with me. Even today, Sarah is my good friend and companion. But we are now going separate ways, as I have recently married and gave birth to a healthy daughter yesterday.

That is why it seems fitting for me to fill another page of this book with my story. I will not forget from whom I am a descendant and my children are also not to forget. I will write down all of my children as long as I live and hope that one day someone else will carry on with this task, so we keep track of our descendants. The cowardly, unnecessary, and brutal murder of my ancestors did not destroy the Cameron clan; it only weakened us. One day there will be just as many Camerons in the world as there were in the past, and then, maybe, the time will come to take our revenge for the injustice. that was inflicted on us.

The family tree Muireall had so carefully started here now filled almost the entire book. Page for page, she—and then later someone else—had filled in the Cameron family tree. It was hard to count, there were so many names, but it looked like about ten generations, I thought. Some branches took up whole pages, they’d had so many children; others ended in a single branch. But all in all, I could comfortably say that the Cameron line had definitely not died out. Still, my hands were trembling when I turned to the last page.

The ink was still dark blue, not faded like it was on the first pages. In my grandma’s pretty handwriting was written:

So it was true. I was a descendant of the Camerons. But I wondered why it mattered after such a long time. And I asked myself, was it fair to condemn Payton for something he’d done in such a different era?

Over and over, his kiss went through my head. That kiss had been real and full of love; I had felt it. Again, tears rose in my eyes. I was head over heels for that unusual Scot, and everything I had found out seemed to indicate that what he and Roy had told me was the truth. And then there was the necklace from Grandma’s attic. I shut the book and chewed my lip.

Payton!

I couldn’t dwell in my thoughts because the picture of him kept pushing itself to the front of my mind. I could still feel his hand reaching out for me, could hear his voice singing that beautiful old love song, could see the depth of the pain in his eyes when he got too close to me.

Payton!

Sobbing, I threw myself onto my bed. The day slowly faded, dusk turning to dark, and Payton’s smile playing in my dreams.

T
he motel on the South Dupont Boulevard was pretty run-down. But the location—right on Route 113—was convenient, and Cathal, Nathaira, and Alasdair preferred to avoid crowds. For what they were planning, it was better to have few witnesses. They had arrived in Delaware the day before, and it hadn’t taken them long to track down Samantha’s address. They planned to use the day to spy on her home. Should they find the opportunity, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab the entire family.

They had been waiting for over an hour near the house in their dark-blue rental van when at last, the front door opened. Alasdair nodded. That was the girl who had gotten away from him. A second girl, blonde and slim, came out. The two of them got into a car parked in the driveway and drove off. Alasdair was about to follow, but Nathaira insisted that they wait for the girls to return and, in the meantime, see who else might be home.

She pulled open the van door and stepped out, yanking her long dark hair over one shoulder as she strode to the house. She knocked—once, twice—but no one answered, so she strolled back to the van.

The three of them had almost fallen asleep from boredom when the car finally rolled up into the driveway again. The blonde was carrying an armful of bags, including one that looked like it had come from a fast-food restaurant. They watched as Samantha then got out of the car, heavily laden with more large shopping bags. She nudged the car door shut with her hip and balanced her load. With a loud bang, the front door slammed behind them.

“And now what?” Alasdair asked.

“We’ll wait,” Cathal answered.

“Wait for what? Let’s grab the girl and get away from here,” Nathaira said.

“No,” Cathal said. “I want to know who that other girl is, the blonde. We don’t need any witnesses.”

“We could just take the both of them,” suggested Alasdair. “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about what Blondie might say later. And who knows, maybe she is a Cameron, too.”

“But she doesn’t look like a Cameron.”

“Well, Cathal!” Nathaira’s voice was full of contempt. “Do you believe that a family resemblance would be so obvious after so many years?”

“That Samantha certainly shows a strong resemblance.”

“That’s just a coincidence. You cannot rely on that.”

“Still,” Cathal said. “We are going to wait!”

Nathaira gave in, crossing her arms in a huff.

About a half hour later, the door opened again. This time, only the blonde came out. She looked around, as if checking to see whether anyone was watching, and then she sat down on the step in front of the house and lit a cigarette. She breathed the smoke deeply into her lungs and blew it
out slowly. She kept glancing over her shoulder, but nobody disturbed her. The cigarette had almost burned down to the filter when she jumped up and quickly stamped the cigarette out.

Samantha opened the door and called, “Ashley! Uncle Eddie’s on the phone.”

“OK! Tell Dad I’m coming.”

With that, the two of them disappeared into the house again.

The three secret observers in the van were content. Now they knew that the girls were related, and that meant that they had to grab both of them; no Cameron should get away. They still didn’t know how many other Camerons might be romping around Milford. There was no sign of the girls’ parents. But they hoped the two girls would have some answers to their questions.

“Hey, Sam,” Ashley said. “My dad said that he’ll probably manage to get here by tomorrow night. At the latest, by the day after tomorrow. I know this might sound insane, but I’d really like to see Ryan again to say good-bye. Maybe I can get a little closure. Is it OK if I skip the Chinese food and go out tonight?”

Huh, I thought. Apparently, our relationship really had improved; otherwise she would have never asked me for permission. And since I was definitely cured of Ryan Fever, I thought she should at least have a chance to smooth things out with him. I had firsthand experience with broken hearts and sudden endings.

“Sure, no problem, go ahead. I called Kim awhile ago, and she said she might come over in a little bit, anyway.”

I was worried that Kim might show up with Justin, but I figured that was still better than having to spend the evening alone. Meanwhile, my anger toward Payton had given way to feelings of pure helplessness. What if I were to forgive him, I asked myself. Could I accept the fact that the times had been different back then, that he hadn’t really had any choice in the murders? I loved him so much that I wanted to forgive him. But if I did, what would that change? It seemed futile. I was, after all, on a different continent. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, that I didn’t give a damn about his curse. I just wanted to be with him.

But, of course, it wasn’t that easy. Payton had said that I was changing the curse, and no one had a clue what would come of that. It sounded like his family thought that they would all die; that’s why they wanted me gone.

Since I’d been home, I had pushed away that thought—that someone might actually want to do me or my family harm. I knew I should have talked to my parents about it, but I didn’t know what to say. Gosh, Mom and Dad, I met this immortal Highlander, and guess what, we’re going steady?

Well, anyway, the situation was totally screwed up. School was starting again soon, and I had no idea how I was going to manage that. I could just imagine what would happen when Mr. Schneider asked me about Scotland; instead of answering his questions, I’d probably burst into tears.

“I’m off. Could be late,” Ashley said, poking her head into the room. Whoa, I thought, she looked fantastic! I hoped Ryan would leave me in peace after seeing her.

“Good luck,” I called after her, but she was already gone.