The Highlander's Curse (9 page)

Cailen
excused himself as well, walking outside with the doctor and only returned
after Mrs. Ferguson had my new socks and shoes done up. The stockings were
basically what I’d thought they’d be, but the shoes were way different. They
were practically the same as the leaf shoes Cailen had jerry-rigged for me,
only these were made of some type of leather, with laces that wrapped around my
feet and up past my ankles.

“Jeez,
you guys go all out. I didn’t even know you could still buy stuff this old.”

Mrs.
Ferguson blinked and her mouth dropped wide open. “Old?”

“Uh,”
Cailen stepped toward the woman. “She didnae mean
old
. She’s just accustomed
tae…other fashions in the Colonies.”

“Oooh,
so that’s why she doesn’ae speak any Scots.” She nodded to herself as if that
had explained everything, but then she gave me another one of those looks. I
was guessing I’d just lost a few more points in her eyes. Apparently the woman
was only happy while she was sewing. “Well, that’ll be four pounds for the lot.”

I
screwed up my face. “You’re joking.” Wasn’t four pounds basically nothing? I
didn’t know squat about the exchange rate, but there was no way that was right.

Mrs.
Ferguson’s face turned to one of shock. “It looks like ye’ve taught yer lass
well, lad. Fine, three pounds, six shillings.”

“A fair
price,” Cailen agreed, nodding at me before shaking his head at the old woman. “But
she isn’ae mine.”

“So I’ve
heard.”

Ignoring
the expressions crossing both the Scot and Scotett’s faces, I reached into my
purse and pulled out some coins, staring at them in my open palm, completely
clueless as to what was what.

The
Highlander reached over and plucked some coins from my hand before presenting
them to the seamstress. I quickly snatched my clothes and shoes, shoving what I
could into my bag.

“We’re
indebted for yer generosity, mum.” He bowed formally to her as he held her hand
and kissed her knuckles.

“Dinna
fash.” She smiled as a small flush worked across her cheeks.

Well
well, apparently old Mrs. Ferguson has a wee crush on my Highlander. Whoa…
The
Highlander, not
my
Highlander.

“Ye can
return in the morn,” she continued. “I should hae yer new shirt ready for ye
then.”

“Again,
we thank ye.” Cailen turned to look at me, a single brow raising in question.

“Uh,
yeah…thanks.”

He
stepped by my side and guided me toward the door with a gentle hand to my back,
and soon we were outside in the cool air. Not surprisingly, more than half of
the sky was filled with dark clouds that looked like they were about to drop
buckets on us at any minute, and a wind that had me shivering already.

“Looks
like rain. Again,” I muttered.

“Nae.”
He drew out the word, long and slow. “It looks like they’re goin’ awa from us.
I think we may hae a good day.”

“Sun?”
I asked, feeling hopeful. God knew I could definitely use some vitamin D.

The
Scot turned toward me, the corners of lips turning up in a small grin. “Aye.
Does that please ye?”

“Heck
yeah it does!” I nodded enthusiastically, nearly laughing at Cailen’s shock,
which turned into a wide grin at my excitement. Finally,
something
good.

As we
walked away from Mrs. Ferguson’s house, I could see that there were a few
buildings spread out along the gentle hills of the tiny town, all of which were
made of stone and wood, and with long, dry grass for their roofs. I wasn’t sure
how he’d accomplished it, but Cailen had managed to keep me away from any real
towns, guiding me through the forest and open fields without me hearing a
single car or airplane, and bringing me to this revived ghost town.

There
wasn’t a single sky scraper or car in sight, and not even a neon open sign lit
any of their glassless windows. I knew Scotland had those too—windows and open
signs—like the one I’d seen when Shannon and I had walked to Lorne’s Pub. Even
Mrs. Ferguson’s place had one glass window, while the others had just been a
square cut out of the wall covered by thick cloth.

The
Highlander and I made our way farther from Mrs. Ferguson’s house, walking the
dirt road that led to the others. Not far from where we were, there were more
buildings and shacks clumped closer together, which gave me hope of finding
some
sort of technology. I was determined to find
anything
. There were two
horses grazing just to the side of the only two-story building in sight.

“I
really just don’t get what’s going on,” I admitted as Cailen and I entered what
the old-looking sign outside had labeled as an “Inn”.

There
were men inside, sitting around wooden tables and throwing back alcohol as tiny
flames flickered from candles and lanterns all around the room. There was a fireplace
along one wall with a small fire crackling inside, and a wood stair case along
the opposite wall, near where the woman tended the bar. The place smelled of
alcohol, smoke, and stewing meat, and my stomach growled in response. A few of
the drunks peered up as the door closed behind us; others didn’t bother lifting
their heads from the tables. Cailen led me to a table on the far side of the
room, and hastily took the seat nearest the wall after pulling out a chair for
me. It took me a bit to get comfortable with all the layers of fabric around
me.

“This
is all so weird. I mean, cool that you all value your history so much,
but…yeah, it’s weird.”

“Two
whiskys,” he told the waitress, who wore something that looked like one of the
layers of clothes I had on underneath this dress. She also wore a cap that didn’t
even attempt to conceal her wild brown hair.

“Weird?
What’s so weird?” He faced me.

“Everything.
Ever since I met you, I’ve felt like I’m in some crazy time-warp.”

“Here
ye are,” the waitress said. She set two mugs of alcohol on the table before
placing a lit lantern in the center. “Would ye like a bite tae eat as well?”

“No’
just yet,” Cailen replied. He waited until she scampered off before eyeing me
again. “Time warp, is it? I haven’ae heard that term before, but I can imagine
what ye mean by it.”

“You’re
telling me that it doesn’t feel like this town is stuck in the 1800’s or
something?”

He
choked, spitting out a little of his whiskey before clapping his hand over his
mouth. “1800’s?” He laughed.

“Oh
jeez.
Whatever
. You don’t have to laugh. History’s never been my strong
suit.” I narrowed my eyes, feeling my face blush with embarrassment. For the
first time I actually wished I would have paid attention in Mr. Davis’s history
class. “Fine, what year do you think?”

“For
someone believin’ this town tae be old, I dinna ken how they managed tae get
ahead o’ the times.” He lifted his glass in salute to the waitress who cocked
an eyebrow at us. “Slange.”

“Shut.
Up,” I muttered, shaking my head. I was getting more and more irritated by the
minute. “What the crap are you talking about?”

“Well.”
Cailen returned my narrowed gaze, his brows lowering as though he thought I
were slow or something. “I’d say that this inn fits right intae 1770, the year
we’re in presently.”

My head
whipped up and my eyes met his. “That’s not funny.”

“I
didnae mean for it tae be.”

He didn’t
laugh or even show a hint of a teasing smile. My mind scrambled as I hoped to
hear the “just kidding” that had to be coming.

It didn’t.

“You’re
on crack,” I said. “I mean, you’ve got to be joking…right?”

“Oh?
And what year is it then?”

“2013.”

Now
both of Cailen’s eyebrows rose high onto his forehead. He stabbed his fingers
through his hair and I could have sworn I’d heard him mumble, “
Daft
,”
under his breath.

“Excuse
me,” he said, before standing and walking toward the bar. He spoke to the
waitress in a hushed voice, but it was still easy to hear the timbre of his voice
through the loud drunks all around. After a minute he returned to the table and
plopped a single-sheet newspaper down on the table, pointing at the date in the
top corner.

July
14
^th
, 1770

I felt
as though my entire body was tingling as a chill crawled over my skin. I stared
at the date before glancing over the news on the page. There wasn’t much, not
with a paper that consisted of smudged print that only filled one side of the
sheet. I studied the date again, focusing on it in case I’d read it wrong the
first time.

July
14
^th
, 1770

“Is
this a joke?” I looked up at the Scot again. “Did you have this made up while I
was at Mrs. Ferguson’s?” I hadn’t seen or heard from him in a really long time,
but now it made sense if he was in on a sick inside joke with the other people
in town.

His
eyes darkened and he leaned down close to the table, swiping up the newspaper.
In a much louder voice than he’d spoken before, he faced the waitress. “I dinna
think the lassie is feelin’ well presently. We’ll need a room for her, and a
bottle o’ whisky.” He flicked his gaze at me for a second before returning it
to the woman behind the old wooden bar. “Better make it two.”

CHAPTER SIX

Cailen set the two
bottles of whiskey and the newspaper on a small table, and gestured for me to
take a seat on the bed as he plunked down in the only chair in the room. “What
are ye playin’ at?”

I sat,
but didn’t really know what to say. That chill that had worked through my body
had taken a strong hold, and even my brain couldn’t get past the date shown on
that damned paper. “I’m not playing,” I replied numbly. “Are you?”

The
Highlander was already leaning his elbows on his knees, but his head quickly
dropped down as though his energy had been sapped. “I dinna ken what tae make o’
ye, Elizabeth. Dae ye really think it’s 2013?”

I
closed my eyes and took a deep breath before gazing at him once more. “That’s
the year I’m from.”

“Ye
truly believe it is the year 2013.” He hadn’t phrased it as a question.

“Yes.
Because it is. Or, it was.” I was numb and cold. And so very exhausted. So many
things whirled through my mind: The clothing everyone had been wearing—and what
I wore now—the lack of cars and lights, Cailen’s awe at seeing my cell phone
and pictures. “Can you please just tell me if you’re messing with me?” I asked
quietly, my voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s just been way too much
going on the last few days, and I can’t handle any more pranks.”

He was
quiet for a while, so much so that the room felt oppressively silent. At the
moment, I both wanted to be downstairs, and also despised the easy banter
reaching my ears through the floorboards. I stood up, feeling an overwhelming
need to do something. I walked to the window and pulled back the covering so
that sunlight could brighten the dank room.

“I’d
hae told ye by now if I was being dishonest.”

I
turned, meeting his eyes as he peered at me from over his shoulder. I crawled
back onto the bed and placed my back against the wall. “I feel like I’m in some
crazy dream. I mean, are you even real?”

My
question stunned him and he blinked. “Aye, as far as I ken, lass. Ev’ra bit as
real as ye.”

“Yeah,
yeah, that’s probably what someone in a dream would say.” Only one problem.
People woke up from dreams, and I’d been living this one since Lorne’s Pub.

My
hands knotted together, and I peered down at them, a little shocked that they’d
done that without me knowing.
1770…1770…1770.
Over two-hundred and forty
years in the past.

“Elizabeth,”
Cailen said softly. “Can ye tell me what’s happened tae ye? From the beginning?
We’ll sort it out.”

I
shifted on the bed and pulled the blanket over my lap. My mind wandered for a
minute, wanting to focus on something—anything—else. The blanket didn’t have
much of a design, and the few colored patterns that were there were heavily
faded. The room itself was nothing special. It was all wood with only a single,
small window that had thick cloth flung to one side. And, as I’d seen of the
other homes in town, there wasn’t even glass in the window to separate us from
the elements outside. Next to the whiskey and newspaper was a single yellowish
candle that only had about two inches left to burn. Between the bed and the
wall with the window, there was a single pot sitting on the floor. No pictures
on the walls, no rugs, and no phone or alarm clock. It was basically a box with
a bed, chair, and a small table that held a bowl of water and a folded rag.

And
none of it was clean.

Or
maybe it was, for 1770 standards.

The
floorboards creaked as someone’s footfalls pounded in the hall. I even felt the
shift of boards under the bed, and used their passing to gather my thoughts as
Cailen watched me. Another door down the hall opened and slammed shut.

“Well,
I uh…”
Where to begin?
“I already told you that I came to Scotland
because my best friend is getting married.”

He
nodded. “Ye said ye flew here.”

“I did.
On a plane.”

Cailen
looked interested at that and leaned forward. “And what is a plane?”

“It’s
like a bus that holds hundreds of people and flies through the air.”

“A bus?”

I shook
my head. Of course he wouldn’t know what that was either. “A really long
vehicle…Okay, imagine a carriage that could drive around without the horses.
Now imagine that the coach couldn’t just hold like four people, but it was
really, really long and hundreds of people could sit in it.” Was I really doing
this?

“It isn’ae
possible.”

“It is.
Buses are like that, only those just fit something like forty people. But
planes are huge and carry a lot more.”

Cailen
reached for a whiskey bottle and pried it open, taking a long swig as the
liquid g
lugged
out of it.

“Anyway,
that’s what brought me here. I flew from Salt Lake to Glasgow. Salt Lake is in
Utah. I don’t think it
exists
yet.” I know it didn’t, not if I was
really in 1770. How in the hell could I be in 1770? Time travel wasn’t real.

What
if time travel really existed but no one knew because travelers never returned
to their own time?

“Here,”
the Highlander said, handing me the bottle. “It looks like ye need this as much
as I dae.”

I took
the whiskey and drank, setting the bottle on the blankets in the little nest
between my legs. “I came here to see Shannon get married.”

“Aye,
ye mentioned her earlier. The one in the painting o’ the two o’ ye.”

I
nodded. “We met for drinks at a pub the day before yesterday, and this guy
kinda attacked me.”

Cailen’s
expression turned dark, but he kept his voice light. “The man who kidnapped ye?”

“Yeah.
Only, now I don’t know if he really kidnapped me or if…”
He sent me
two-hundred years in the past.

“Aye, I
see. And what happened when he attacked ye?”

“I don’t
know.” Goose bumps covered my arms, and I brought the blanket up to cover them.
“I was really weirded out at first and then I was just scared. All I remember
is that he gripped my shoulders and talked like he was crazy. And then he put
change into my hand and handed me the pocket watch.”

Which
had burned me, and…

“What’s
wrong, Elizabeth?”

I
reached into my purse and pulled the pocket watch out by its chain, placing it
on the blanket. “This burned my hand. When he handed it to me, it started going
backwards and then it burned me. I tried to drop it, but it wouldn’t go, and
then everything…”
Melted away.
“Went dark.” I showed him my palm and the
light pink scar the watch had left behind.

Cailen
reached for the whiskey and poured some down his throat before handing it back.
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “What did the man say tae ye?”

“I don’t
know. All I caught was that I had to go back and ‘set it right’.”

“What
did he look like?”

I shook
my head and shrugged. “Light blue eyes, really scruffy face, dark hair, and he
wore a dark cloak.”

“Anythin’
else?”

“No,
that’s it. The next thing I knew I was sitting out in the middle of nowhere,
and then I met you.” Had I landed exactly where Lorne’s Pub was, only roughly
two hundred and forty years earlier? The thought made me dizzy.

“Elizabeth,
I’ve two questions for ye, and I expect the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Are ye
lyin’ tae me?”

I shook
my head. “No.” I couldn’t blame him for asking, especially considering I’d
assumed he’d been lying to me all along. A part of me still thought that he was
really good at playing tricks on people. The longer this went, though, the less
I could hope for that.

“All
right. Then that leaves one question: Are ye a witch?”

My
mouth fell open before I slammed it shut again. Had he really just asked me
that? “Witches don’t even exist.”

A look
of infuriation mingled with relief covered his face as he leaned back in his
chair and pried open the other bottle. He must have assumed that I’d finish off
the other one soon. And he was right. I had no intention of giving up the only
thing that could muddle my mind from what was happening.

“Aye
lass,” he said after a moment. “They dae exist. I’m just tryin’ tae figure out
if ye are a witch, or if ye’ve been cursed by one.”

****

Cursed by a witch?

My mind
had lit on that more times than I could count ever since Cailen had spoken
those words. Of course, that wasn’t all I focused on. Time travel took up my
foremost thoughts, second being that I had nowhere to go, no one who knew me,
and no way of knowing how to get back to my own time; and thirdly, the
existence of witches.

Cailen
had left a while ago, needing to take a break from story time. I suspected that
he’d gone down for more drinks, but he hadn’t returned yet, and since he’d
ordered me not to leave the room, I’d stayed put.

“Nae
one else can hear what ye’ve told me,” he’d warned. “I may believe ye’re no’ a
witch, but others may no’ gi’ye the chance tae explain.” He’d exhaled slowly,
and ran his fingers through his hair. “Quite a tale ye’ve got, though, aye?”

And so
I’d stayed. I sat in the dark, square room, watching those last two inches of
candle wax disappear as the flame slid lower and lower on the candlestick.
Sunlight had crept across the floorboards as the sun made its arch over the
sky, moving even slower than a tortoise. I checked my cell phone, though not to
see if I had any service. Instead, I scrolled through the pictures, memorizing
the faces I may never see again: Mom, Dad, my little brother, Jason, and my
friends. I realized only then that I’d never again hear the recorded voicemail
messages from Mom, the ones she’d left me before she died. I’d saved them
repeatedly, refusing to delete them whenever my voicemail prompted me to. I’d
never get to hug Dad again and smell the Old Spice he dashed on before heading
to work every day; never get to tease Jason about his obsession with video
games—that was completely my fault anyway—or buy him clothes so he’d dress
somewhat decent and maybe actually get a girlfriend. I’d never get to go to the
mall or hang out with my friends again, or get to talk about guys or make plans
to rent a house together so we could have some privacy from our parents. I
wouldn’t see Shannon get married, or be able to tell her about this crazy,
terrifying adventure and the man who was helping me through it.

All I
had left of everyone I loved was in my hands. Pictures: some of them smiling,
some from candid shots. And Mom’s—a picture of the two of us, with my chin
resting on her shoulder as we flashed cheesy grins at the camera.

I heard
someone approach the door and quickly turned off my cell. I’d barely stuffed it
into my purse when Cailen pushed the door open, his eyes meeting mine as he
gave me a tight nod. The smell of food hit my nose and I looked down to see
that he held two metal plates in his hands, piled high with meat, vegetables,
and bread.

I
scrambled off the bed and met him, grabbing the plates. “Thanks.”

He
shrugged a shoulder. “Dinna mention it. Someone should be up wi’drink shor—oh.”
He turned and stepped into the hall again and thanked whoever had just met him.
A woman replied before he entered the room again and shut the door. Even from
this side of the door, I picked up on the woman’s flirtatious tone. It hadn’t
occurred to me until then that he might have been doing more than tossing back
drinks.

The
Highlander had told me he wouldn’t have sex with anyone, but he hadn’t said he
wouldn’t do anything else.

I set
his plate on the table and turned to take one of the bottles from him. “I could
have come down and helped,” I said, crawling onto the bed and pulling the plate
onto my lap. My stomach growled loudly and I glanced up at Cailen as my face
flamed. “I guess I’m hungry.”

He
chuckled and placed his sword next to the door before sitting and taking a bite
of his bread. Swallowing, he said, “I’m sorry, lass. I didnae meant tae be gone
so long. I just needed some time tae think.”

I
finished chewing my bite of meat, not bothering to swallow it before saying, “What
did you think about?” Probably trying to figure out how to dump the poor crazy
girl who thinks she’s from the future.

“Ye’re
situation. I ken by now ye’ve considered the fact that ye’ve nae family here,
and nae friends tae speak o’, no’ tae mention nowhere tae call home—”

“I got
that, thanks.” I didn’t need the reminder.

“Mmm
hmm,” he grunted. “And I suppose ye’ve noticed that what money ye’ve on ye will’nae
last forever.”

I
nodded, chewing on a bite of bread. That had occurred to me while he was gone,
too. Credit cards didn’t exist in 1770, and any other little bit of money I had
was U.S. dollars dated a lot later than the time I was in now. Other than the
change Captain Cloak had tossed my way, I had absolutely no money. I met Cailen’s
eyes, noticing that he suddenly looked really uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?”