Love Potions (15 page)

“No?” Lydia repeated. She furrowed her brow. “No, what? I didn’t ask anything.”

“Ya told me we could avoid each other and not be together. The answer is no. I’m going to woo ya, lass.”

“Woo me?” Lydia started to chuckle, but the man looked so sincere she didn’t dare. Instead, she stared at his handsome face, a little shocked.

“Aye. I’m making my intentions known.”

“What about what I want?” she asked. “No offense, but I noticed things tend to get crazy with your family around.”

“No offense taken. You’re right.” Erik’s smile stayed intact. “We’re a wild bunch.”

“I like my life calm.” Lydia crossed her arms over her chest.

“Give us a chance, love, the clan will grow on ya. Promise.”

“Erik, I don’t…”

“All I’m asking for is a chance. If ya tell me that ya honestly don’t feel there is anything worth exploring between us, I’ll respect your wishes and leave ya be. But if there is even a tiny part of ya that knows want I know, then…” His grin was incorrigible as he let his words taper off.

She couldn’t keep a straight face. Giving a small laugh, she said. “Fine. Okay. You can woo me.”

“We’re going to finish cleaning this up. Then I’ll be back tonight to woo ya.” He leaned forward, his tone dropping by small degrees to the liquid warm sound that melted her insides and made her heart flutter in her chest. “Then, if you’re lucky, I’ll let ya invite me inside to play out those little dreams ya have of me.”

“If
I’m
lucky?” She pulled back and arched a brow.

“Aye, love, I already know how good I am in bed. You’d be lucky indeed to get me between your sheets.” He winked at her to let her know he was teasing and then turned to join his family as they began hauling the tree limbs down the hill to the curb for city pickup.

“I really hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to sing again,” Lydia said to herself with a small laugh. He turned, his grin still intact. She bit her lip, having not intended the comment to be heard. When he reached his brothers, Euann began gesturing frantically. Erik held up his hand to stop him.

“Woo me,” Lydia whispered. A small chill worked over her, and she looked at her hand where she’d touched Erik. The breeze picked up ever so slightly, seeming to stir around her feet and caress her skin. She wasn’t sure if she was doing it, or if she was suddenly super sensitive to the movement. Licking her lips, she felt a flush rise over her cheeks. There was something alluring about the man that drew her from that first moment. How did she ever think she could push him away or resist him? Even now, with him working across the lawn, the nerves in her body tingled and pulled in his direction. As the feelings inside her grew stronger he looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking. “God help me for I doubt any woman could resist a MacGregor man bent on seduction.”

…

Go ahead and work. Clean up your mess.

No amount of cleaning could undo what the warlocks had done. So careless they were with magick, so aimlessly destructive and to no grand purpose. They did not deserve their powers. Ah, but their carelessness would serve the shadows well. The protection around the old Victorian had been chipped just enough to slip through. The day kept them back within the trees, but soon, very soon night would come and it would be time to play. The barrier spell was fading, it now had faults, and the enchantment would soon be gone. The
inthrall’s
days were few.

Chapter Thirteen

“Where’s Charlotte when I need her?” Lydia whispered, frowning at her reflection. She couldn’t decide if the long white-and-cream-colored dress she wore said casual fun or virginal sacrifice. She’d bought it at a renaissance festival she’d gone to with her grandmother, and then never had the occasion to wear it again. Maybe date night with the sexily confident Erik wasn’t the best time to resurrect what should probably be used only for a Halloween costume. She turned to the mound of dresses on the bed that came before the one she now wore.

She’d tried calling Charlotte after the phone lines came back on but her friend wouldn’t pick up. It was possible Charlotte had her own storm damage to contend with, or downed phone lines, or simply had crawled into her own bed to sleep. Lydia would make a point of going over there in the morning to check on her. Since her memory of true events had been erased it was highly unlikely Charlotte was in a state of panic.

A shiver worked over her and she shook off the first reaction of chills to look around the room. “Gramma?”

There was no answer so she turned her attention back to the pile. Movement appeared out of the corner of her eye and she spun to the side. Nothing was there. Lydia gave a short laugh, trying to dismiss her apprehension as nerves about the upcoming date and her grandmother’s ghostly presence lingering around.

She leaned over and flipped the pile of dresses to study the first two she’d tried on. To herself, she asked, “Sexy vixen,” she lifted a red and then a black, “or seductively understated?” Then, louder, she asked, “What do you think, Gramma? Should I just wear the Halloween princess gown?”

She felt a light yank on her hair and dropped both garments. Spinning, she was caught between a startled scream and a scolding. Nothing was there. Her heart beat a little faster.

“That’s not funny,” she whispered, taking deep breaths.

The temperature of the room dropped dramatically, so that she could see the pants of air coming from her mouth. Her grandmother’s ghost never made the entire room this cold. Lydia shivered violently, feeling sick to her stomach. Another tug pulled her hair, harder this time. She spun around only to have her hair pulled again from behind. She turned again and again, seeing nothing. She swatted her arms, trying to push back whatever it was, yet her arms fell through air.

“What do you want?” she yelled.

A light humming answered, sounding very much like a child singing in play.

Lydia cried out, “Stop!”

Instantly, whatever it was obeyed. The temperature rose to normal yet she still shivered.

Lydia weakly made her way to the stairs, needing to get away from the room. She stumbled down the hall in her haste. Her long skirt tangled around her legs and she pulled it up to take the steps two at a time. The sound of footsteps ran down the upstairs hall. She trembled in fear, turning to look up the stairs. A shadow came forward with no figure attached to it before disappearing back down the hall, taking its footsteps with it.

Trying to watch where she was going, while keeping an eye on the stairs, she staggered toward the kitchen door. The footsteps came back and skidded to stop at the top of the stairs. A shadowy figure loomed above her. The same voice from before began to sing, louder and clearer, “You can’t hide. You can’t seek. You can’t find the will to speak.”

A giggle sounded by the couch. Lydia screamed as another shadow appeared in the living room. Then, suddenly, the roots of her hair were pulled from behind. She reached to fight free from her attacker, but there was nothing there. Whatever held her hair was an intangible force she couldn’t escape. It flung her backwards and dragged her across the floor. Her feet kicked violently in an effort to stop the attacker’s progress. Her shoes flung from her feet.

The force lifted her up, dangling her above the kitchen floor. Her scalp burned from where the full weight of her hanging body pulled at her hair. A loud whirl blew around her as she was rotated through the air. The living room laughter grew louder as new voices joined the first. More footsteps sounded upstairs, as if a child army ran through all the rooms.

A loud shriek sounded, and she was whipped forward. The force let go and she flew face first into the wall by the outside door. Lydia smacked the side of her face. Dizzy she fell.

“Run!” her grandmother’s voice ordered.

Lydia tasted blood in her mouth as she scrambled to her feet. Her grandmother’s spirit hovered over the kitchen next to a dark shadow. Lydia hesitated, not wanting to leave Annabelle, ghost or not. She looked for something to throw at the shadow, knowing even as she launched the toaster it wouldn’t do any good. Cold air blasted her. The toaster smacked into the far wall.

“Run!” Gramma Annabelle screeched. A sudden bright light radiated from the spirit, throwing back the shadows. Lydia reached for the door knob. The light didn’t last long. Shadows converged on her grandmother’s ghost. Annabelle commanded hoarsely, “Lydia, run!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she obeyed. Lydia’s first instinct was to find Erik. She stumbled backwards out of the door and then turned to run up the hill. The long skirt of the dress caught on something and she leaned to pull it free. Her eyes met with a foot standing on the material. Lydia opened her mouth to yell but a hood was thrust over her head. She threw an elbow back, hitting a stomach. A loud grunt sounded and she ran. Just as she managed to grab the bag on her head to pull it off someone tripped her. She fell onto the ground.

Instantly hands were on her, pinning her legs and arms. Then ropes were wound around the length of her body. She heard tape rip seconds before someone pressed it around her neck to hold the sack in place. She writhed against her captors, trying desperately to be free. She screamed as loud as she could but the sack was dusty and caused her to inhale particles into her lungs. Lydia coughed, losing some of her fight as she struggled to breathe.

Her captors spoke but the words were muffled as they lifted her off the ground. She tried squirming, but it only caused them to hold her tighter. A hand gripped into her breast, the gesture not feeling completely accidental. Another hand pressed the hood to her mouth, cutting off her air. She stopped fighting and they released the pressure, letting her have whatever dirty air she could find in the bag.

Without her struggling, the captors were able to run. Her body angled downward toward the road. Then, tossing her to a hard surface she felt the rumble of an engine as they drove her away.

…

“Ya seriously are not going to wear that, are ya son?”

Erik looked down at his blue button down shirt and black slacks. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. Tonight he was going to woo Lydia, and this time he was going to do it right. He’d tried to do it right on their first non-date date, but the
lidérc
had ruined his plans. Glancing at his father’s reflection in his mirror, he answered, “Aye. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing, Da?”

“We Scots have great legs, ya should show them off.” Angus kicked his legs, showing off his exposed calves. “If I know one thing, it’s that women can’t resist a man in a kilt.”

“Careful, lest ma hears ya,” Erik warned.

Angus glanced around fearfully for his wife and stated loudly, “Not as if I would know from firsthand experience. I love your mother very much. Fergus told me.”

Erik started to laugh, only to stop as a cold wave of dread washed over him. It nearly stopped his heart from beating.

“What is it?” his da asked.

“Lydia.” Erik ran out of his room, pushing past his father. He felt Angus behind him. “She’s in trouble. I have to get to her.”

“I thought her home was protected. She should be safe.” Angus calmly followed him down the hall.

After hundreds of years of threats and possible doom it took a lot for the MacGregors to react with a sense of urgency. It was a family fault, one that Erik was suddenly sorry for. Why hadn’t he focused more on the threat and less on his feelings for Lydia? They’d known there was a
lidérc
in the area and they’d taken the necessary precautions, but he should have made that more of a priority.

“Something’s wrong.” Erik gasped as another cold chill ran down his body.

“Wait, I’ll get the others,” Angus ordered. “If it’s the
lidérc
ya can’t go alone. He’ll use her to get your powers. As much as ya hate it, she’ll live so long as they have a purpose for her. Iain and Rory are walking the town searching for signs. I’ll call them back. Niall is working on potions.”

“There’s no time,” Erik answered, leaping more than walking down the stairs. “I can’t wait. With everything that happened I didn’t get a chance to warn her about the
lidérc
and what it is. I thought we’d have more time before it made its move. I was going to tell her everything tonight.”

“But Euann assured me ya protected all within her home while ya cleaned her yard. It shouldn’t be…” Angus’s words trailed off as Erik ran out of the door. “Be careful, son!”

As the late afternoon air hit him Erik felt Lydia’s fear more clearly. He slowed as the full force of her emotions bound his legs and glued his arms to his sides. It took some focus, but he managed to push past the sensation and again run down the hill toward her home.

All within her home? That man who’d been bothering Lydia? She’d called him creepy. Erik should have taken notice of the customer, but he’d been so focused on his mission to woo Lydia that he’d not paid the man much attention beyond annoying his woman. Brad. She’d called him Brad, and he’d been in her home. Did Brad have magickal powers that somehow escaped their notice?

Panic welled inside him. Brad had been in her home. If he was magickal that meant she’d let the man in. Lydia had yet to invite him inside past the barrier spell.

Erik let the wind take him, speeding him down to her home. The subtle stench of dark power curled his nose as he rematerialized on her lawn. He ran to her open door. “Lydia!”

Reaching forward, he touched the barrier. It was weak. A steady thud sounded within the home. Erik held his breath and pushed his way inside. Passing the barrier felt a lot like being skinned alive, but he made it through. Light footsteps ran overhead, but he knew they weren’t Lydia’s. A door vibrated, the source of the noise. When he opened it, he frowned in irritation. A translucent figure in a green ballroom gown sat on basement steps. Her grayed complexion and vacant eyes didn’t see him as it swayed back and forth. Her head had been bumping the old door, making it thud. The woman was dead so there was nothing he could do for her at the moment.

The running feet came down the steps. A girl’s soft voice began to sing a light, eerie tune. “You can’t hide. You can’t seek. You can’t find the will to speak.”

Erik frowned in irritation. Ghosts were notoriously pesky creatures. He strode to the door. The dark shadow didn’t fully reveal herself, but she continued to sing as another shadow danced in the living room.

“Where is she?” Erik demanded.

“We’re not bound anymore. We’re not leaving like before,” the child song answered. Then the shadows charged him, pushing violently forward to yell in unison, their voices demonic, “And you can’t make us!”

For the briefest second they consumed him, but his age-old magick was too much and they couldn’t hold on to him for long. He expelled their attempt at possession and ran from the home. When he glanced back at the Victorian, he saw the window glow and the curtain shift. He would deal with that poltergeist infestation later, but right now he needed to find Lydia.

He turned on the lawn, reaching out with his feelings. He looked for her, trying to connect his emotions with hers, but felt nothing. She was gone. He was too late.

…

“Not you, too, Lydia. They got you, too. Omigod, look at your dress,” Charlotte whispered, trying to free Lydia’s arms from her sides. Her hands shook and it took her much longer than it would have under normal circumstances to untie the ropes. “What did they dress you in?”

Lydia coughed, trying to expel the dust from her lungs. The sack from her head lay discarded to the side.

“They’re a cult,” Charlotte insisted, yanking the rope hard.

It slid from Lydia’s hands, scratching her skin. At the moment she didn’t care. When she could finally move, she pushed up and looked around the tiny cell. Someone had secured bars to a basement’s stone foundation. The bars looked new, the foundation old. Owning an old home, Lydia had dealt with old rock foundation. It might look like it was crumbling, but it’d be sturdy. Darkening light shone through a small window near the ceiling. There was nothing special about the place. It was an old, dirty basement with an air handler, furnace, and water heater—a leaky water heater if the puddle around the base was any indication. They could be anywhere. She leaned over, trying to see up the wooden stairs.

“They’re going to sacrifice us,” Charlotte whispered. “We have to get out of here.”

“We don’t know that,” Lydia answered, her throat dry.

“I heard them. When they brought me here they told me my sacrifice would be appreciated. They’re sick.” Charlotte stood and began shaking the bars. Yelling, she said, “Let us out!”

“Char, who? Who said that?” Lydia pulled her friend back. Her friend’s face was dirty and pale. The denim jeans were stained at the knees and her T-shirt was ripped along the seam. “How long have you been down here?”

“I don’t know. Hours? A day? I can’t remember. I was on my way back to watch the kilt show at your place when Joe stopped me.”

“Joe?” Lydia shivered. “That…” She shook her head. “No, that can’t be. He’s so…”

“Nice?” Charlotte gave a small laugh that held no humor. “I thought so to. Try psychotic.”

“I thought I recognized a voice. He tried to disguise it, but Brad was there when they jumped me at my house.” She recalled the cold chills whenever the man was near and warning flashes of Brad’s memories she’d been forced to endure. When the men carried her someone had taken liberties and held her by her breast. She rubbed her wrist over her chest, trying to erase the feeling. In hindsight, it was easy to put the pieces together. At the time, a chill was a chill, and she thought she’d imagined the disgusting images because Brad repulsed her so much. “I never understood that friendship.”