Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) Page 11

  “I’m sorry Robert, she’s beautiful and I’m sure she’s safe and sound.”

  Boarding the Fortune II, Emily and Colin were greeted by the assorted motley crew. There was much back slapping and crude remarks exchanged between Robert and his men before he introduced them to everyone.

  “Alright now you scallywags, these two are under my protection so leave them be, ye hear? Quit lollygagging, finish loading the goods and let’s be off,” he bellowed at them. “Allow me to show you to your room. Quarters are tight, so you’ll have to share. But that shouldn’t be a problem after how well acquainted the two of you have become, should it now?” He leered, showing them to the cabin next to his.

  The room was well appointed. A small, but luxurious bed, along with small trunk, dresser and mirror finished the room. There was a tiny bathroom in the hallway. The balance of modern day with the patina from Robert’s time, made a beautiful mix of new meeting old. She could imagine Robert, decked out in his finery, surrounded by mounds of stolen gold, jewels, spirits, silk, and of course, a pretty girl or two for ransom draped over his lap or sitting at his feet.

  “Might as well get comfortable, will take almost two days to reach Ravensmore if the winds stay with us. Get some sleep, tea’s served at four o’clock,” Robert told them. Seeing Emily’s confused look, he guffawed. “We’re not uncivilized, milady. Same as in England, we serve tea every afternoon. You crazy Yanks don’t drink much tea, do you?”

  “Why yes we do, although we prefer our tea, iced and sweet, with a hint of lemon. I’m from the South, we’re not uncivilized either,” she sniffed, pointing her nose in the air.

  Colin roared with laughter. “No worries, lass. Robert’s being an arsehole. Leave her alone; she’s had a rough time of it.”

  Robert winked at her and left them, bellowing orders as the ship set sail.

  “I’m going to give Kat a call, let her know I’m OK.” Stepping out into the narrow passageway, she dialed Kat’s number. Letting her best friend know she was OK, Emily filled her in on part of the story. Something made her feel protective of Colin, not to mention Kat would think she’d lost her marbles if she told her everything. So instead she spun a story, telling Kat partial truths. Even so, she could hear the disbelief in Kat’s voice.

  “…I’m a little worried about you. Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor? Make sure everything is OK?”

  “Honestly, I’m fine. Going to spend a bit more time with Colin. He’s going to show me Ravensmore Castle. I’ll call you at the end of the week when I get to the airport.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Thanks sweetie.” Emily hung up. It was a lie of omission, but she wasn’t ready to share the whole story. Had to figure out for herself what was happening before she could even think of telling Kat.

  Heading into the room, she called out, “Colin, I’m back. Kat’s good. She knows I’m fine. Colin?”

  “Here lass, no need to shout.” Swaying on his feet, Colin looked pale. She reached up and checked his forehead. He was burning up again. “Get undressed and into bed this instant. You have a fever; we have to get it down. Your arm looks infected too.” Emily fussed.

  Raising an eyebrow at her, Colin’s lip curved up at the corner, “If you want me naked, all ye have to do is ask. I’m more than happy to oblige. We are sharing a bed. It gets cold on the sea and we’ll need to be verra close together to keep warm.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  Sputtering, Emily spat out, “You are so arrogant. I don’t want my handiwork ruined after I managed to sew something. Fine, get sick and die, I don’t care, but don’t expect me to stitch you up again. Once was enough.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared up at Colin.

  Chuckling he told her, “Dinna fash yerself lass, I’ll let you tend me.”

  Snorting, she helped him remove his kilt, leaving him in a long shirt, her gaze traveling over him. With a sharp intake of breath, she turned to grab a blanket.

  “Wait a minute, why are you taking your shirt off?”

  “Well lass, how will you tend my arm if you can’t get to all of it? I always sleep naked; will it bother you seeing my unclothed body? Make you want to ravish me?”

  “Umm, let me just turn around to give you some privacy so you can get into bed and cover yourself,” Emily stammered.

  Chuckling, he removed his shirt, tossing it to the floor before flopping on the bed. “All right, you can turn around, I’m decent, well, at least covered up enough to protect your delicate sensibilities.”

  Emily busied herself picking up his clothes, straightening the room.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower, k? I don’t want to see these icky clothes ever again.” She tucked him in bed, with water and whisky, before grabbing a pair of canvas pants and white linen shirt one of Robert’s men provided for her. Heading out the door, she paused, turning to look at Colin.

  “How does Robert make his living now? How do you?” she asked, curiosity filling her voice.

  “Believe it or not, we’re paid in gold by Thorne for being Shadow Walkers, though smuggling is still a very profitable way to make a living. Robert is quite good at it so that’s what he does, a modern-day pirate, without the sword and gunfights unless Day Walkers are involved. As for me, I own Ravensmore distillery, the spirits business is also very profitable. We may be invisible most of the time, but we like our modern-day toys. Not to mention, Robert wanted his ship. And I, Ravensmore. Takes a great deal of money to keep up these old estates. Would scare the staff to hear a disembodied voice asking them to bring the horses around or laughing at the match on the telly. So we make ourselves visible when needed.” He winked at her.

  “Wait a minute, I thought Hamish owned it. How did you get it back?”

  “Curious as a cat, aren’t ye? Go on, lass, take your shower; there’ll be plenty of time for your infernal questions.”

  Rolling her eyes, Emily flounced out the door. The hot water was bliss, the soap and shampoo a bit manly but oh, so nice to be clean. Hurrying since she knew there was a limited amount of water, she toweled off, inspecting her fingers. Marveling it was possible to heal someone, she touched each fingertip, thankful Robert had the ability to take away the pain. But why didn’t he heal Colin?

  Not sure what to do with the disgusting clothing she’d been wearing, she put it in a basket figuring she’d ask later. There were so many questions she needed answers to. Pouring Colin a glass of whisky, she changed the dressing on his arm. The wound looked angry, swollen and not as bad as last night. His thigh was a bit improved as well.

  Capturing her hands in his, Colin examined her fingers.”I’m sorry I couldn’t do this for you…”

  “You said something about being powerless. Why don’t you have your powers but Robert has his? Can’t he heal your arm and leg?” Taking a drink of water, she sat down at the table, trying to sort everything out. “You’ll split your head open thinking so hard. Will be time enough to talk about everything later. I don’t need any help from Robert. The wounds will heal. Right now you need to rest. Climb in beside me. I’m cold, you don’t want me to catch a chill do you now?” Colin teased.

  “Keep your hands to yourself, I’m not sleeping right next to you, you don’t have any clothes on. I’ll sleep between the two sheets.” She primly told him.

  He laughed, patting the bed. Emily climbed in beside Colin intending to get answers to her questions, but fell fast asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Sighing, Emily murmured in her sleep, moving closer to Colin.

  Something smelled delicious. Emily yawned, stretching. She was snuggled up to Colin again. She knew she was attracted to him, wanted to sleep with him but she wasn’t one of those women who could have casual sex. Heck she agonized over which accessories to wear and those were just jewelry and scarves. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she was ready to trust someone with her heart again. Hers was still healing, the knife wounds deep. She didn’t know if she wanted to take that risk again. Col
in had the power to hurt her deeply; she was falling hard and she hadn’t even slept with him. Sex would ratchet things up to the next level, one she wasn’t quite ready for. Anyway, she’d be crazy to fall in love with an immortal guy, who’d never grow old and was cursed. She needed more answers before she took the next step.

  Waking up, Emily realized someone had brought tea while they slept. Not only tea but scones, lemon curd and some kind of sandwich. Emily’s stomach protested as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she heard Colin chuckling. He was always laughing at her. She didn’t care, it seemed like ages since she’d eaten, no wonder she was starving.

  “Okay, food and drink first, then I want some answers. I saw your picture in the museum, read what it said about your brother and fiancée.” Emily tried to sound stern.

  Colin pressed his lips together until they were nothing but a thin white line. “My fiancée had it painted. I’d forgotten about it, I guess it ended up there somehow after I was killed.”

  “Is it true you were imprisoned for smuggling whisky to rebuild your castle?” she softly asked.

  Before he could answer, Emily continued. “The guide at the museum, said your brother Lord Hamish, of Castle Gloom, was so angry about the smuggling that he murdered you while you were in chains in a fit of rage over ruining the family name or some crap like that. Doesn’t seem fair when you couldn’t fight back. I mean, families argue all the time, but they don’t usually kill each other. Or was it because of Abigail?”

  Seeing the look on his face, Emily went on, “She told the tour group you were engaged and your brother was also involved with Abigail. The rumor is one of them burned your castle to the ground to try and restore the family honor, and that’s why Ravensmore and Edinburgh castles are haunted by you.”

  “Look, Robert and I are immortal Shadow Walkers. I told you we’re both more than four hundred and fifty years old. We fight the things that go bump in the night, evil things like Day Walkers and other scary shite bent on destroying humanity. Creatures humans never want to encounter.”

  Finishing her tea, she noted he didn’t really answer her, but she let it go for now. “I’m trying to take all of this in, you have to admit, not only is it difficult to believe, but it feels like we’re trapped in some bad movie.” Cocking an eyebrow he ground out, “You have no idea what is really out there. Humans go around living their pathetic, boring lives, not having a clue a war’s being waged around them every day. Humanity isn’t doing so well, the Day Walkers are winning, and some days I wonder why we even bother.”

  “Hey, I’m trying to understand, but things don’t add up.”

  “There’s something I haven’t told you. At the Vaults, when you intervened, it changed things.” Colin paused as if waging some inner war with himself, deciding what to tell her.

  “What exactly do you mean ‘changed things’?”

  “I’ve told you who and what we are, who we serve, but I didn’t explain the curse. We are all cursed. Every year, Shadow Walkers re-live their death as a reminder of the price we paid to become immortal.”

  “Curses now too, why am I not surprised?” she looked hard at Colin. There was something he was leaving out, something important. She’d always been good at reading people, and he was hiding something—it couldn’t be good. “Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than what I’ve already heard, so get it over with and tell me, you’ll feel better.” She tried to reassure him. Wondering how terrible it could be if he was hemming and hawing this much.

  The slump of his shoulders told her he’d come to a decision; the grim look on his face said it would be bad. Well best to find out now. She hated secrets. Charlie kept too many of them, and it almost cost her her life.

  He hated talking about curses and what might be. Hell, he couldn’t even ask Robert to heal his injuries, didn’t like anyone knowing he was weak—friends or enemies. He’d rather suffer through.

  “The curse states, only one can intervene to change a Shadow Walker’s fate, someone who has crossed over into Shadow and come back. The countdown has started, with no way to stop it. A week before it’s all over. I’m powerless during this time. ‘Tis why I couldn’t use my powers to free us from the cave-in or to heal your wee fingers. If within the week we can’t end the curse…my soul will be lost, I’ll be trapped forever in-between, not living or dying, turning into a wraith. Sentenced to eternal suffering in limbo, gray, soundless, and empty.” He raised a hand to stop her questions, best tell her the rest.

  “There’s more—the gods are cruel, and you pay a price in all this. If you fail, you will be doomed…never finding true love, damned to live the rest of your life alone in the world, dying with no one who truly loves you by your side.” He paused before adding, “Look I don’t know if I even believe in this curse, well other than re-living my death each year. As far as I know, no one has broken their curse so I don’t know what ‘intervening’ really means. If it’s enough you prevented me from dying again or something more. When we’re made Shadow Walkers, Thorne gives each of us the same speech regarding the curse but never says exactly what has to be done to break it. The gods are fickle that way. No one knows if this is to keep us in line or there’s some truth to it.”

  Ah, fucking hell. He could see the horror in her face as she processed the information, understanding the consequences of her altruistic act, wishing she’d never tried to help him in the first place. After what Abigail and Hamish did to him, he’d never trust another woman again even one as sweet and kind as she was. Couldn’t allow anyone to have that kind of power over him again.

  He couldn’t let Emily be doomed. If they failed…he’d become a wraith. Hell, how bad could it be? Not like anyone had ever come back to tell them all about the trip to never-never land. At least in the in-between, it was supposed to be quiet. Then again, fate might decide to have elevator music 24/7—he reconsidered—that would be a fate worse than death. See the problem with gods and fate? They never told you straight up what had to be done, instead preferring riddles, myths, and curses. Gave him the mother of all headaches.

  “Wait a minute—so maybe we’ve already broken the curse when I helped you and we just have to wait out the week. What happens when the week is up? Is there some sign, or ringing bell, or something? It’s ridiculous you don’t know what you have to do to break the damn thing.”

  “I don’t know if we’ve broken the curse. Maybe, but I would think if we had, I would know.”

  “Oh Hell’s bells. And what happens if we succeed? Does everything go back to normal?” She asked. This was getting worse by the second. Of course she believed in true love, what normal woman didn’t? Was it possible she’d really never experience true love if she failed? Anyway, it wasn’t fair to have these consequences without telling her before she got involved, or not telling them how to break the curse. There had to be something he didn’t know; this was too unfair for words. “I knew I should have paid better attention in those classes on mythology and philosophy.”

  “If we succeed…hell, no one has done it so all I know is what we’ve been told. We can go back to our lives. You get to go back to Charleston and live the life you’re meant to have. For me, one of three fates: one, I’m human again, spend rest of my now-mortal life as a human; two, I can continue as a Shadow Walker who is no longer cursed. I’d fight because I want to. Or three, we fail, it’s all true and I turn into a wraith for all eternity.” Watching her face, Colin saw the emotions there. Let her think him a bastard for not saying they should try to be together, let him be a wraith—let her be alone … at least she would live without being chained to someone like him, someone who’d never fully trust her. She’d find some man who could love her even if she couldn’t fully love him back.

  Chapter 12

  Leaving the Balmoral, Monroe was concerned something had happened to Emily. She hadn’t been in her room for two days, hadn’t checked out either. Was possible she was traveling the countryside, but she’d acted determined to find an
swers to her questions and he was worried. Remembering she had her phone with her, he tried multiple times, kept going straight to voice mail. Enough time had passed to officially list her has a missing person, however, his gut feeling told him not to do it. She had stumbled onto something, part of the same strange happenings he’d experienced. He’d find her, and she’d better be in trouble—if she was at a spa or wandering castle ruins in the Highlands, he’d have her head.

  Remembering she’d been at the museum, he started there to retrace her steps. He showed the clerk a copy of her passport photo. The clerk didn’t remember her but there were so many tourists coming through it was hard to notice anyone in particular. Monroe had never had much time for museums. He knew his history, didn’t see any point in wandering around looking at it all the time. Walking around Edinburgh was a living history lesson every day.

  He walked through the galleries, showing her picture to each person who had worked over the past two days. Coming up on the last docent who had worked during the timeframe, he asked about Emily. The docent remembered the American because she fell, and she thought the woman was going to throw up in the gallery. She talked about how the young woman was still sitting on the bench, looking pale and sick, an hour later when the docent finished her tour. The docent had approached but Emily waved her away, claiming she was coming down with something, not to worry, she wouldn’t be sick in the museum. The docent shrugged and went to meet her next tour group. That was all she knew as she pointed Monroe to where Emily fell.

  Striding over, a wall of portraits caught his eye. The wall was labeled Scottish Scoundrels so he started there as it was directly facing the bench.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  There was a painting of a baron named Colin Campbell—same name of the guy Emily went on about. He moved closer to read the plaque, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. It couldn’t be the same guy, but the killer had to be using this identity somehow to target Emily—but why her?