LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
The Past-The Cabin in the woods
Morag threw another bundle of sage on the fire. The smoke wafted out and removed all traces of the stench of rot. “There now,” she said. “That’s much better.”
She shuffled over to the table and lifted a small vial. Flicking it with her finger, she forced the dregs of liquid coating the sides to the bottom and removed the lid.
Making her way back to the hearth, she poured the last remaining vestiges into the cauldron hanging above the fire. The concoction hissed and bubbled. Lifting the ladle, she filled a metal cup and drank every drop down. Her body shuddered and she had to hold the table to keep upright. It was a nasty potion but she needed it to keep her in her human form for just a wee bit longer.
Unfortunately, that was only going to be a short reprieve because it was the last of the one ingredient she needed—fresh blood. Fresh human blood. That was the only thing that worked to keep her as she was now. If not, she would need to go back to the Loch sooner, rather than later and she did not want to do that.
The door creaked open behind her.
Cup in hand, Morag spun around and eyed her visitor. “Och, what are ye doing here?”
Jillian walked inside and lowered the hood of her wet cloak. “I’ve been locked out.”
Morag’s lip curled with displeasure. “What do ye mean ye have been locked out?”
“That stupid girl he brought back, locked all the doors.”
“What were ye doing outside ta begin with? I told ye ta stay put in the room beneath the cook room.”
“I did at first but I was hungry and then her mangy dog saw me and chased me outside. When enough time had passed, I tried to get back in but I couldn’t.”
“What of the lad?”
Jillian shrugged. “He is still unconscious, I made sure of that.”
Morag slammed her spoon down on the table. “What do ye mean, ye made sure of it?”
“I ground some herbs up and put it in his water.”
Morag narrowed her rheumy eyes. “Ye did no give him the ones in the kitchen did ye?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Ye halfwit! Ye can no give him too much else he will never wake again…do ye ken what I am saying ta ye?”
“If I didn’t he would tell the girl that I was there and besides, it wasn’t that much. He will wake again, I’m sure of it.” Jillian unfastened her cloak and hung it on a hook by the door to dry.
Pulling a chair out, Morag sat down heavily and heaved out a weary sigh. “And why, pray tell, would he know ye were there? I thought I told ye ta stay out of sight until Broderick returned.”
“I did. I tried,” Jillian defended. “But I was bored and the girl was outside. I only wanted to see him for a moment.”
Propping her elbow on the table, Morag lifted her gnarled hand and rubbed the crease gathering between her brows. “Did she see ye?”
Jillian twisted her hands together. “She may have.”
Releasing another weary sigh, Morag shook her head. “And what did she do when she saw ye?”
“Well, I was wearing my cloak, and it was pretty dark and then that mangy dog started barking…then something happened, something very strange.” Jillian poured herself a drink of water from the pitcher into a small metal cup and guzzled it down. Once she was finished, she set the empty cup back on the table. “It seemed to me there was another presence there and it was stopping me from advancing on the girl.”
A look of worry was clearly etched on Morag’s weathered face when she lifted her head and looked at Jillian. “What do ye mean there was another presence?”
“Like I said, I was going to scare the girl, get her to leave and lock her out. But something stopped me from progressing, so I retreated back to the hidden chamber.”
“So how did ye end up outside.”
Jillian got a sheepish look on her face. “I came back out that night…”
“Och, why did ye do that?”
“I don’t know. Boredom, I guess.” She shrugged. “It’s awfully dark down there. And it smells bad,” she added.
“Och ye stupid, lass.” Morag snorted. “Can ye no do anything right?”
Jillian’s eyes lit with anger. “Hey, at least I got him to love me. That’s more than you ever did.”
“But ye did no do that well enough, now did ye? Instead ye played him a fool with the likes of Broderick and then faked yer death.”
“Well, that’s your fault. You didn’t tell me I had to be faithful to him.”
“I told ye when I sent ye back the first time that ye needed ta love the lad.”
“I gave him my body and he did use me well, but my heart belongs to another—it always has.”
Morag shook her head solemnly. “Och, ye had a strapping Highlander that doted on yer every whim and ye betrayed him with a blackguard. Makes no sense ta me.”
“Well, he wasn’t always so doting you know. He was nothing more than a rutting stag.”
Morag waved her hand in dismissal. “They all are lass, ye jes need ta know how ta tame them.”
Jillian got a triumphant look on her face and smiled like a cat that just ate the canary. “I did that well enough.”
“Did ye?” Morag lifted a razor thin brow in question. “I am no sure about that one.”
“How could you not be? He pined for me for months after he thought I died. Broderick told me so.”
“It didn’t seem ta take him long ta fall for another, now did it?”
“He’s not in love with her.” Jillian was adamant.
“Ye do no think so?” Morag shrugged. “I’d wager he is.”
“Well, we will find out soon enough,” Jillian, said resolutely.
“Aye, lass that we will.” Standing from the table, Morag shuffled over to the cauldron and threw another herb inside the bubbling concoction.