“Grace,” Yearger called. “I must speak with Shona! Let us in. There’s been a tragedy.”
Shona couldn’t move. He was a liar. Black fright had her rooted to the spot but not Grace. She dashed across the healing room, stopped at the table to grab a cross and raced over to where Shona stood.
Banging started at the door, and the jangling of the handle echoed painfully in Shona’s ears.
“Shona,” Grace pleaded, her normally controlled demeanor gone.
That frightened Shona almost as much as the fact that every bone in her body told her that Yearger had come to finish what he’d begun.
“Do ye wish to die, then?” Grace demanded, her voice harsh. She shoved the cross against Shona’s chest. “Take this. Ye must be holding it for the spell to work.”
The words snapped Shona out of her stupor. She clasped the cool silver cross in her numb fingers and looked down at it. It had a star and an anchor set in the middle and four round, raised shiny balls set on each end of the cross.
“Clutch it tight, and—”
Whatever else Grace said was lost to Shona. All she could hear was the banging at the door, the beating of her heart, and the roaring of blood in her ears. Shona felt Grace’s warm touch on her hand for a moment, and then it was gone.
Her eyes locked on Shona’s. “Don’t worry, Sister. I’m sending ye home. I’ll come along shortly. Don’t lose the cross,” Grace said, and then she began to chant.“Talamh, èadhar, teine, uisge, ga cur dhachaigh. Talamh, èadhar, teine, uisge, ga cur dhachaigh. Talamh, èadhar, teine, uisge, ga cur dhachaigh.”
Over and over Grace recited the words until they were all Shona could hear, all she could think of, all she could feel.
Earth, air, fire, water, send her home.
She felt she was changing. Floating like the air, liquid like the water, and hot like fire. Fear twined around her heart and squeezed. “Grace.” Shona’s voice barely came out as a whisper. “What are ye doing?”
Grace’s hand cupped her cheek. “’Tis a travelling chant. Do nae worry.Talamh, èadhar, teine, uisge, ga cur dhachaigh. Talamh, èadhar, teine, uisge, ga cur dhachaigh. Talamh, èadhar, teine, uisge, ga cur dhachaigh.”
Terror clawed at Shona. “Grace, Grace, nay!” she tried to protest but no sound came out. The light was gone, and her vision tunneled to a single bright spot. Noise was all around her, inside her, outside her. Loud, screeching, ear-aching noise. Her lungs felt empty, her veins too full. Her heart was beating too fast not to burst. Something hit her, but nothing was there. She was in a violent storm of chaos, and then…she wasn’t.
Everything went silent and black except thethump, thump, thumpof her heart.
Then it all flooded back. Light. Odd sounds. Even odder smells. Strange voices. Male. Female. Male again.
She blinked her eyes and opened them. She screamed as something blurred by her, a weird, extremely loud sound coming from it.
“Watch it, lady!” someone yelled from behind her. “You tourists think you own New Orleans! Get out of the road!”
The air whooshed out of her lungs in fright. Wherever she was, it was not home.
Chapter One
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
~ Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
The Present
2020
New Orleans, Louisiana
“Don’t tell me you’re gay,” asked the too perfectly put-together blonde standing before Rhys, her eyebrows arched in a question mark. “That would be a shame,” she continued, grinning at him. “All the best-looking men seem to be.”
The bass guitarist strummed more chords from the stage of the Dungeon, and the notes vibrated into Rhys McCaim’s chest, rumbled through his veins, and pounded into his head. Normally, he’d be starting to feel loose by now, unwinding from a long week of running his family’s billion-dollar shipping company and all the responsibility that came with it. But not tonight. Not when Reikart was with him.
