Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (2 page)

C
HAPTER
1

Delaware, Present-Day October

O
ne look into his eyes and I understood.

I gave him a conspiratorial wink and, completely spellbound, watched how he casually strolled past the dancing partygoers, past the torches illuminating the path along the lakeshore, and up to the patio door—only to disappear inside with an auspicious smile.

Luckily I wasn’t drinking hard liquor, because the heat rising inside me could have ignited the alcohol in my glass. As my excitement grew, all I could do was force myself to a laugh with the chatty, cheerful group of friends by my side. And although I tried my hardest to seem casual and relaxed, my best friend, Kim Fryer, noticed that I was preoccupied.

“Hey, Sam, you okay?” she asked, gently pulling away from the arms of her boyfriend, Justin Summers.

I felt like she had just caught me red-handed. Hard to believe that Kim knew me so well that not even the smallest of my emotions escaped her attention, not even at a party.

“Sure! I just wanted to go inside for a bit. Put some more bottles on ice and such,” I said, pointing back at the house.

“Jeez, it’s your birthday! You don’t have to do any of that stuff. You stay here—I’ll take care of it,” she offered.

“No, no, that’s all right. I need a breather anyway. Pretty cool party, huh?”

In truth, I was actually surprised that so many people had made their way to the lake to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

My popularity seemed to have increased significantly since that thing that happened at South Dupont Boulevard.

Ryan Baker and Justin Summers had of course told everyone what had happened there. And every time the story was retold, someone exaggerated and added to it. Except…the truth itself was missing from their story, because nobody would have believed it.

Nathaira Stuart, a Scottish witch, had tried to kill me.
That
sure was something nobody knew, because who’d have guessed that I would fall in love during a student-exchange trip to Scotland? And with a boy whose entire family had been living under a 270-year-old curse that damned them all to an eternal life without feelings or emotions.

Who’d have guessed that I—of all people—carried the power to break this curse, just because the blood of the Camerons runs through my veins? Clan Cameron was not supposed to have survived, because Payton McLean’s clan had tried its best to murder every single one of my ancestors. It was only thanks to Vanora, another witch, that the plan had failed. And surely nobody would have thought it possible that, in the end, Nathaira Stuart would break Vanora’s curse by making Payton choose love and want to give his life for me.

All of this seemed so unbelievable that Ryan’s and Justin’s exaggerations didn’t even come close to what had really happened.

Still, the shoot-out at the motel, which concluded this blood-soaked drama, had been the number-one topic over the past few weeks, and, in my schoolmates’ eyes, I had become as cool as Lara Croft. Since that day, even Lisa and her gang of cheerleaders had vied for my friendship and had gone so far as to organize a birthday party for me. Not too long ago this would have made me incredibly happy, but right now I was only interested in one person, and he was waiting for me in the house.

With an armful of empty bottles and plastic cups, I finally managed to escape inside. I gave the door a gentle push, and fear washed over me in the sudden silence. I put down the cups and bottles, and with palms sweaty from excitement, I wiped my hands on my pants. In this kid-free zone you could barely hear the cheerful partygoers and music. I nervously pushed my hair behind my ears and tugged on my shirt.

Then I took a deep breath and whispered with quivering lips, “Payton?”

“And I was worried you had stood me up.”

He was leaning in the doorway, arms casually folded across his chest. In the weak glow of the party lights, all I could make out was his outline—and the sparkle in his eyes that were full of affection and anticipation. Magic seemed to draw me to him, and when his arms closed around me and he enchanted me with a gentle kiss, I knew: This night would be our night.

Somehow we were suddenly in my bedroom. I leaned against the door, my lips swollen from Payton’s passionate kisses. He came at me strong and pantherlike, putting his hands against the door on either side of me and leaning in for another kiss. Then he withdrew his mouth and looked me deep in the eyes as he slowly turned the door key with a small grating sound—locking out the rest of the world.

I was scared. I had waited for him for so long, had wanted this to happen forever, but now all I could do was tremble with nervous excitement. I gave him a bashful smile but quickly closed my eyes so he wouldn’t notice my insecurities.

“Sam?” Payton whispered into my ear. “Relax,
mo luaidh
.”

He knew how much I liked this Gaelic term of endearment, and I started feeling calmer. There was no need to be scared. Nothing bad would ever happen to me when I was in Payton’s arms, of that I was sure.

“Tha gràdh agam ort,”
I said, confessing my love to him. That was about the extent of my Gaelic, so I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him closer. I enjoyed the feel of his strong, muscular body snuggling against mine. After all, it was Vanora’s curse that had prevented us from being close to each other without him suffering excruciating pain. Payton’s hands trembled, too, as he slowly explored the skin under my shirt. I giggled.

“What is it?” he asked, stopping to caress my waist.

“Hmm, nothing. Your hands are shaking.”

“So are yours,” he whispered into my neck, only to follow up with a flood of kisses all the way down to my collarbone.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed that delicious feeling slowly awakening inside me.

“Yes, I know, but that’s different. You…I mean…” Oh God, it was embarrassing enough to talk about it—how was I ever going to actually
do
it?

“Shhh,” he said, taking a step back to unbutton his shirt. “Don’t forget that I was only sixteen years old at the time,” he explained, throwing his shirt over the back of a chair. I couldn’t help but admire his athletic figure, even though I found the small white bandage under his heart distracting.

“But you’ve done it before—and I haven’t!” I managed to squeeze out.

“
Mo luaidh,
that was a long time ago. Long before I lost all feeling under Vanora’s curse. So you see, it doesn’t count at all anymore,” he said, laughing and pulling me back into his arms.

And it was true: It didn’t matter at all after our next kiss. Nothing mattered but him and me—and our night full of love.

C
HAPTER
2

D
r. Lippert, please report to the laboratory. Dr. Lippert, please report to the laboratory,” yelled the hospital loudspeaker. The physician, who was about to wrap up his forty-eight-hour shift, snorted as the call echoed through the hallway. Exhausted, he rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. Before he could allow himself a good night’s sleep, he needed to finish one final operation report. And now this. Gnashing his teeth, he slipped the ballpoint pen back into the breast pocket of his hospital lab coat and made his way to the basement.

“Hey, Frank, you called?” he said as he entered Dr. Frank Tillman’s laboratory. The automatic sliding door closed behind him—something that made him feel a little claustrophobic. He always hated coming down here. But the concerned look on Tillman’s face—clearly noticeable despite the hairnet and mouth guard—demanded his full attention.

“Right. Thanks for coming right away.”

Tillman pointed to a cardboard box beside the sink and prompted Lippert to put on a mouth guard himself.

Rubbing sanitizer into his hands, Lippert stepped over to his colleague’s side and peered at the test tubes and petri dishes Frank was working on.

“So. What is it?”

“No idea. That’s just it. I was hoping to get your opinion.”

And with that, Frank thrust a printout with test results into Lippert’s hands and pushed the test tube rack and one of the petri dishes over to him.

With just one look at the numbers on the printout, Lippert frowned.

“Did you double-check these?” he asked, lifting the rack and holding it up to the fluorescent lights overhead. He pulled out one of the narrow test tubes and shook it to stir up the dark, flaky deposit.

“Twice even. What
is
that stuff?” Tillman asked.

“No idea. Never seen it before. Is it possible that the blood sample got contaminated?” Lippert offered.

“With what, though? What would cause such changes to a cell?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.”

Lippert, who didn’t feel like adding extra overtime to his already long and arduous shift, looked at his watch. He then closed the patient file, glanced at the name, and made a suggestion. “Listen, you check these numbers one last time. If the results are confirmed, I’ll call the patient back in, just in case. If the numbers are right—which I think is impossible—I’d be surprised he hasn’t come back in himself.”

Tillman nodded and walked over to the refrigerator where the blood samples were stored. “If the numbers are right, then he’s beyond help anyway,” he quipped.

“Probably, but I still can’t think of an explanation. If I recall correctly, he was in perfect shape when he was discharged two weeks ago.”

“Is it possible that he got an infection from the stab wound that you guys treated?”

Lippert was already washing and disinfecting his hands. He was off duty now and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Let Frank check the numbers once more. In his own expert opinion—and after all, he was an experienced physician—the problem had to do with the laboratory and not the patient himself.

“It’s possible, but I doubt it. Such damage to cells caused by an infection…is unlikely. Look, I have to go. Send the results up to my office when you have them. Then we’ll talk again.”

With a quick good-bye, Lippert left the lab, first for his op report and then for the well-deserved end of his shift.

By the time he sped away in his Camaro an hour later, his tired mind had banned any thoughts about patient McLean’s strange blood work.

C
HAPTER
3

I
opened my eyes.

The molded ceiling in my bedroom looked like it had since my childhood, but I had changed. I was no longer that little girl who admired the pretty roses on her bed and imagined what it would be like to marry a prince.

I was eighteen years old. I had lived through indescribable things during my visit to Scotland. And I had to come to terms with the fact that for centuries my own family’s history was inextricably linked to Payton’s.

Fate had brought us together to right a past wrong and to finally allow love to claim victory over hatred.

Vanora’s curse caused Payton McLean to suffer terrible pain every time we were together. Although he realized that I carried within me the blood of the Camerons—the blood of his enemies—he fell in love, and his feelings for me softened the curse and brought him back to life. His love for me was strong enough to defy even death. He would have died for me—and he almost had died from a stab wound to the heart.

And now he was lying beside me. His breathing was regular, so I knew he was still asleep. I gently caressed the bandage. I could feel his heartbeat. Once during the weeks in the hospital, I had seen the wound that Nathaira had inflicted. She had wanted to stab
me
with her dagger. She had wanted me dead, but she lost, and her hatred and anger died with her.

I could barely believe my luck. The coolest boy in the world with a small crescent-shaped scar on his chin and the most intense look in his eyes, a look strong enough to turn my legs into Jell-O: That boy was my best friend and boyfriend all rolled into one.

I was still staring at him when Payton woke up with a start, grabbing his head and groaning.

“Good morning,” I whispered, fully in love—but I didn’t get a reply.

Payton swung his legs around and sat upright on the edge of the bed. He held his head and mumbled something in Gaelic.

I clambered up next to him, caressing his back.

“Payton, are you okay? Is the wound hurting?”

“
Ifrinn!
No. Don’t worry, everything’s all right.”

“You’re crazy! I can see you’re not well. What’s the matter?”

It made me angry that he thought he needed to play the bulletproof Highlander in front of me. His smile seemed forced.

“Hmm, maybe last night was a bit much. I had no idea how insatiable you could be, my sweet little Sam.”

I knew that he was only trying to change the subject, but I still blushed at his words.

“As if!” I protested. “Don’t blame me if you’re not feeling too hot.”

He seemed to be feeling better already, because he got up and started picking up his clothes. That was a sensible thing to do since it was almost eight o’clock. In an hour, Kim would descend on the house with her “party evidence removal team” to clear away as much of the mess as possible before my parents returned. Especially given the most recent events—most of which they luckily knew only little about—I thought it was cool on their part to leave me the house for my birthday party. But in return they had requested that everything be back in its place by noon. Which was what we needed to focus on right now.

I was loading the rest of the glasses into the dishwasher when Sean dropped in through the back door. Content to see that his help was no longer needed, he slumped into an armchair.

“You guys have been busy this morning.” He nodded approvingly.

“Well, you could have come a bit earlier and helped us pick up.” I couldn’t help giving a snap reply when it was obviously on purpose that he only turned up now. “Kim and the others have already left. We’re as good as done.”

“Sure, sure, I could have, but then I didn’t want to,” he quipped, giving me a mischievous wink that charmed a smile out of me.

“Where’s the little guy?” he asked jokingly. Even though Payton was a few years younger than Sean, the brothers were both of considerable height.

I used my elbow to point at the stairway while I continued cleaning the big chili pot.

“Upstairs. He’s taking the fairy lights up to the attic and should be back in a minute.”

“Good, because now that he’s feeling better, I wanted to drive up to Ashley Bennett’s for a couple of days.”

“Really? I had no idea you guys were getting serious.”

Sean shrugged. “Yeah, well, I thought it was only this strange situation that had brought us closer together, but we’re getting along really well. We call each other every day. To be honest, I miss her.”

I couldn’t really relate to someone missing Cousin Ashley. After all, her annual visit during the summer holidays was one of the main reasons I’d wanted to go on that student-exchange trip to Scotland in the first place. I didn’t like having to share my bedroom every single summer.

But by now Ashley and I were getting on pretty well. It was all my fault that she’d been dragged into this crazy story with the curse. Payton’s friends, who were all under the curse, had kidnapped Ashley because they thought that the blood of the Camerons was running through her veins, too, which wasn’t true. Sean had managed to avert the worst from happening. When he met Ashley, the curse in him had already weakened, and in my mind that was why he was blinded by her beauty. After all those years he had spent without feelings or emotions, any woman probably could have won his heart.

But maybe I was wrong, because Sean seemed to truly mean what he said.

“Don’t worry, I’ll look after Payton. The wound seems to be healing well.”

For a split second I thought I saw Sean’s eyes darken as if he were hiding something from me, but a moment later I was sure I had only imagined it.

Footsteps coming down the stairway announced Payton’s return from the attic, and immediately my heart beat faster. After last night I longed for him even more than during the whole time we were separated because of the curse. A few words of swearing in Gaelic followed by a loud rumble jolted me from my daydream.

Before I could even react, Sean had jumped up and rushed into the hallway. I let the big chili pot slide back into the sink and hurried after him.

Payton lay motionless at the foot of the stairwell. His brother knelt beside him, tearing open his shirt and checking his wound.

I froze in helpless shock while Sean carefully lifted the bandage on Payton’s chest. I noticed his worried face as he gingerly traced the length of the stitches, and I saw his relief when he realized that the stab wound hadn’t reopened.

“
Daingead!
How handy it was to be invulnerable,” he cursed, then added with a whisper and a hint of regret, “And immortal.”

Cautiously, I knelt beside my love and caressed his forehead. He was pale, his face distorted with pain. Slowly his eyelids started fluttering, and he opened them with a groan. I firmly pressed him down with the flat of my hand.

“Payton, stay still,
mo luaidh
.”

Sean stood up in obvious relief at the sight of his little brother moving. He shook his head in mock outrage.

“Brother, my brother. Seems to me you can’t hold your liquor anymore. How much exactly did you have to drink last night? You’re staggering around like a drunk person.”

“He wasn’t drinking at all last night,” I explained. The fact that Payton wasn’t even trying to get up had me worried again. He really was in a bad way.

“Could you try to lie on the couch? Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You’ve been feeling miserable since this morning.”

“No, no, I’m all right,” dismissed Payton, struggling to his feet. I could feel Sean’s skeptical eyes on my back as I dragged Payton to the couch.

“Ciod tha uait?”
Sean asked.

I gave him a puzzled look. Why would he speak Gaelic? Was he trying to hide something from me? I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Payton asked for a glass of water, and I hurried into the kitchen, glad to be of use and forget about my worries.

When I returned, the brothers were engaged in a heated debate. I understood very little Gaelic, and what I heard just sounded like two dogs barking at each other. Still, I could tell that for once they weren’t in complete agreement.

“What’s the matter? What are you talking about?” I inquired. But both of them ignored me.

They flashed their eyes at each other angrily, until Payton held out his hand and dragged me down to the couch with him. He quickly kissed me on the lips and gave his brother a warning stare. Sean turned away sullenly.

My mood started to sour. Did these two really think they could get away with jerking me around? Something was up—I was sure of it—and with all the authority I could muster, I demanded they tell me what it was.

“You two are going to tell me right now what’s going on! Why are you being so secretive?” I asked.

Sean completely ignored me, inspecting the tips of his shoes instead. Payton remained doggedly silent, too. If there was anything I had learned from these pigheaded Scots during the past couple of weeks, it was that I would never emerge the winner in an argument. Furiously, I jumped up and slammed the kitchen door behind me. This helped soothe my anger. Probably, I admitted to myself, I was only irritated because I was so very worried about Payton when in fact he seemed perfectly all right. At least that was what I thought when I heard a heated curse in Gaelic coming from the living room, where he continued arguing with Sean. Feeling mellower already, I took out the rest of my anger on the stupid chili pot.

Payton stared angry holes into the door that had just slammed shut behind Sam. Sean didn’t say a word but fixed his gaze on his brother.

Finally, Payton rubbed his hands over his face as if to wash away the horror that had taken ahold of him.

“Are you sure?” he asked in quiet disbelief.

“No, I’m not. But I know what I’ve heard.”

“How is it possible that she has the power to do this?” Payton said.

“Don’t forget who Nathaira was! Maybe she carried her mother’s strength inside her. And remember that her mother was powerful enough to put all of us under a curse for two hundred and seventy years!”

“How come you never told me this?”

Sean couldn’t take Payton’s accusing eyes any longer, and he sank into the armchair.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first. When she died, I thought the curse had died with her. After all, you survived her attack and the surgery, too. And you seemed to be getting better every day.”

“Oh, so that’s when you thought it wasn’t worth mentioning that this cursed witch Nathaira—the one who killed our brother Kyle, the one who tried to kill Sam, and the one who didn’t even shy away from driving her
sgian dhu
into my chest—that she tried to curse me with her dying breath?” Payton’s voice was now a scream. “Is that what you thought, Sean? That it wasn’t important enough to mention?”

“Listen, you’d been stabbed, I didn’t want to upset you, and…” Sean shrugged helplessly, but Payton wasn’t looking for an explanation.

“And now? What do I do now? What’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know, Brother, but I swear I’m not going to let you die,” Sean reassured him, knitting his brow as he frantically worked on a solution.

“She spoke the curse. I didn’t understand every single word of it, but she said something about it being a mistake to let Sam go and that—because you were prepared to die for her—you must die for her now.”

“Let Sam go? What did she mean by that?”

“That’s just it. I thought she was babbling, which is why I didn’t really take it seriously. I guess I underestimated how full of hatred and resentment she was.”

Payton saw that remembering the events at South Dupont Boulevard made Sean’s skin crawl. Nathaira had tried to stop the curse from being further weakened by Sam, but the moment she felt cornered, she had admitted to murdering their little brother Kyle
and
her own stepmother. He’d rather forget the excruciating pain that her confessions had caused, forget everything that had happened there—even though his selfless act of standing up for Samantha had ended the curse that had weighed on them all for almost three centuries.

“If I have to die for saving Sam’s life, then I don’t regret what I did. If that was what Nathaira wanted to achieve, she shouldn’t have bothered. I would do it all over again, knowing what I know about her curse—except, this time around I would first cut her throat!”