Chapter Twenty-Six
Rachel
Tam MacTaggart is still glowering at my father, and everyone still seems afeard and confused by the altercation between my father and Tam. Despite all the bravado on display today, I doubt any blood will be shed. And finally, the two men give up their staring match. No more flaring nostrils. No more squinted eyes. Neither man has audibly conceded, yet everyone can these two warriors have settled their differences.
My father raises his brows.
Tam seizes his arm at the elbow, and Father does the same. It's the MacTaggart handshake. Aye, the tension has evaporated. All those in attendance blow out a collective breath and relax.
"Let the games begin!" Tam shouts while grinning and now shakes hands with my father, who smiles in return.
The MacTaggarts and the Grants have been allies for as long as anyone can remember. Aye, my fellow MacTaggarts have given my father a hard time, but they dinnae hold any animosity toward our family. His banishment ended a long time ago. But according to my mother, strapping men occasionally need to insult and threaten each other to feel like masculine.
Aye, Alyssa Vescovi knows more about men than I do.
But as I watch the two clans face off, their hands hovering near their weapons, unease ripples through me. I and my aunts, my father as well, possess varying degrees and types of magic. I pray no one realizes that. Practicing witchcraft is still a capital offense in Scotland.
I edge closer to my mother, seeking her reassuring presence. And I whisper, "Are ye certain about this?"
She winks. "Don't worry, sweetie. This is just men being men. They'll be sharing a dram and laughing about old times before you know it."
I want to believe her, but something doesn't feel right. My fingers tingle with an unfamiliar energy, and I wonder if my own latent magical abilities are trying to tell me something. My fingers trace the outline of the small stone in my pocket---a gift from my great-aunts, imbued with protective spells. Its warmth reassures me, even as doubt gnaws at my insides.
"Rachel," my father's deep voice cuts through the din. "Come here, lass."
I make my way through the throng of kilted men who are participating in various feats of strength and cunning but pass by them without a glance. Then a wave of dizziness swamps me. I stop in my tracks, holding a hand to my forehead. What is happening? I struggle to focus my gaze, but the world has begun to spin around me.
Then the dizziness vanishes.
As I shake off the bizarre sensation, I begin to walk again, and I approach, I catch a glimpse of a stranger standing beside my father. His clothes mark him as an outsider, but there's something in his eyes that speaks of familiarity. A shiver races down my spine as our gazes connect, and for a split second, the world seems to fade away.
"Rachel," my father says, his voice gruff but tinged with an undercurrent of worry, "I want ye to meet Joey Finnegan. He's...well, he's not from around here."
Joey extends his hand, a gesture that seems both foreign and strangely fitting. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Rachel."
But...I've met him before. I know the situation is not as it should be, yet my mind is clouded by images I cannae understand.
As I reach out to shake Joey's hand, a jolt of energy surges through me. The world tilts, and suddenly, I'm seeing double---Joey as he stands before me now, and another version of him, dressed in strange garb, standing in a place that looks like Dùndubhan, but is...different. Newer.
While my father and Joey go on conversing as if they have never met before, the scene around me shifts once more. I glance down at myself. I am wearing strange clothes that expose much of my arms and legs, and my hair is shorter. My shoes have strangely tall heels that make it difficult to maintain my balance. As for the castle before me...
It is Dùndubhan, but it also is not. People dressed as peculiarly as I am wander about the premises and even traipse inside the castle. And with a jolt, I ken what I'm seeing.
This is the future. The twenty-first century.
I wander toward the entrance of the modern version of Dùndubhan, growing more comfortable with my high-heeled shoes with every step. I seem to have arrived at the start of some sort of guided tour of the castle. I might as well go along with the crowd. It must be my dà-shealladh that's causing this to happen, though I cannae understand the purpose of it. All I can do is go with the flow, as my mother would say.
While I follow our tour guide, a chipper lass with pale blonde hair begins her spiel about the history of Dùndubhan. I find myself only half-listening, my gaze darting around the great hall as I struggle to understand the strange mix of ancient stone walls and modern amenities.
"And here, ladies and gentlemen, is where the infamous 'Witches' Confrontation' took place in 1621," our guide explains, gesturing to a spot near the massive hearth.
My heart skips a beat. That's where I'm standing right now---or where I was standing, back in my own time. I blink, trying to reconcile the two realities warring in my mind.
"Legend has it," the cheerful lass continues, "that a mysterious stranger appeared during a clan gathering, causing a rift between the MacTaggarts and the Grants. Some say he was a time traveler, others claim he was a witch himself. But what happened next changed the course of Highland history forever."
My breath catches in my throat. She's talking about Joey. About what's happening right now, back in my time. I strain to hear more, desperate for any clue about what's to come.
As if summoned by my thoughts, I spot a familiar figure lurking at the back of the tour group. It's Joey, but not the Joey I just met. This one looks older, more weathered, with a haunted look in his eyes that speaks of secrets and burdens.
Our gazes lock, and I see recognition flare in his eyes. He starts to push through the crowd toward me, but before he can reach me, the world shifts again.
Before the tour guide can resume her spiel, a commotion erupts near the entrance. A group of men in dark suits push their way into the hall, their eyes scanning the crowd with predatory intensity. My heart races as I spot a familiar face among them---Joey Finnegan, looking exactly as he did moments ago in 1621, but now dressed in modern attire.
He catches sight of me, his eyes widening in recognition. Without a word, he grabs my arm and pulls me toward a hidden alcove behind a tapestry. My heart pounds as he presses me against the cold stone wall, his body shielding mine from view.
"Rachel," he whispers urgently, his breath warm against my ear. "I need you to listen carefully. We don't have much time."
I want to ask a thousand questions, but the intensity in his eyes silences me.
"The men who just came in are dangerous," Joey continues. "They're after something hidden in Dùndubhan---something that could change everything if it falls into the wrong hands. We have to get back to 1621 and stop them before they find it."
"What are you talk..." I start to ask, but Joey cuts me off with a shake of his head.
"I know this is confusing, but I promise I'll explain everything later. Right now, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
"I reckon so," I reply slowly.
"Thanks, baby." Joey exhales gusty breath, evident in every line of his body. "It's complicated. The short version is that we're caught in a temporal loop. The decisions we make here, now, will affect what happens in the past---your present."
My head feels as if it's literally spinning now. "I don't understand."
"Those men out there? They're after something hidden inside Dùndubhan. Something powerful. If they get their hands on it, it could change everything---not just the future, but the past as well. We have to stop them."
I take a deep breath, trying to process everything Joey's telling me. "So, what can we do?"
Joey's eyes dart around, checking our surroundings. "We need to get back to the past. But first..." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, glowing stone. "Take this. It'll help amplify your dà-shealladh . You might need it."
As I take the stone, our fingers brush, and another jolt of energy courses through me. Suddenly, I'm seeing double again---the modern castle overlaid with its medieval counterpart. I can see the clan gathering, frozen in time, tension thick in the air.
"Joey," I whisper, "I can see them. My family, the clans---they're all there, waiting."
"I know. But you need to remember this---the book was hidden for a reason and may not even exist anymore."
Suddenly, the tapestry is ripped aside. One of the men in dark suits looms over us, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "Well, well. What do we have here, Joey boy? Ya shouldn't be screwing a girl right now, not when you've got explaining to do."
"Who is he?" I ask Joey, my voice barely a whisper.
"Fulvio Barbieri, the mob enforcer," he replies in an equally soft voice. But then Joey abruptly shoves me behind him as he faces the intruders. "Run, Rachel!"
I hesitate for a split second, torn between fear and the desire to help. But Joey's urgent command spurs me into action. I bolt from the alcove, ducking under the arm of another suit-clad man who tries to grab me. Adrenaline burns through my veins as I weave through the startled tour group, my unfamiliar high heels clicking against the stone floor.
"Stop her!" I hear Fulvio bellow behind me, followed by the sound of a scuffle.
I pray Joey can hold his own against them.
But as I race down a corridor, I search frantically for a way out or back to my own time. The stone in my hand pulses with energy, and suddenly the world around me flickers. For a moment, I see the medieval castle superimposed over the modern one. I clutch the stone tighter and concentrate on the image of the clan gathering, willing myself back to that moment.
But I'm abruptly hit with a dizzying wave of disorientation. The world around me flickers and shifts, medieval stone walls blending with modern fixtures. I stumble and nearly lose my footing on the uneven ground.
"Rachel!" I hear Joey's voice, distant yet urgent. "The stone! Use the stone!"
My fingers fumble in my pocket, closing around the small, warm object. As soon as I touch it, my vision clears. I'm back in 1621, standing amid the tense clan gathering. But now I can see more---shimmering threads of energy connecting people and objects, whispers of future events echoing in my mind. The stone has amplified my dà-shealladh beyond anything I've experienced before.
But the stone is no longer in my hand. It's vanished.
You need to remember this--- the book was hidden where none would think to find it.
I frantically scan the area, searching for Joey. He's still by my father's side, but his eyes are darting around, alert and wary. Does he remember what just happened in the future? Before I can make my way to him, a commotion erupts near the castle entrance.
Three men push their way through the crowd, their strange attire marking them as outlanders of the most outland sort. With a jolt, I recognize them as the suited men from the future. Somehow, they've followed us back.
"Fulvio," I whisper, remembering the name Joey used. The burly man at the front must be him, his eyes cold and calculating as they sweep the area.
The clan members bristle at the intrusion, their hands moving to grasp their weapons, though they don't wield them yet. I can see the confusion and anger in their eyes, but also a flicker of fear at these strange outsiders.
"Who are ye, and what business do ye have here?" my father's voice booms across the hall, silencing the murmurs.
Fulvio steps forward, a predatory smile on his face. "We're here for something that doesn't belong to you, old man. Step aside, and no one gets hurt."
Joey tenses beside my father, his hand inching toward an unusual weapon I hadn't noticed before. It's black and L-shaped, bulky too. Our eyes meet briefly, and I see a flash of recognition. He remembers what I saw in the future.
"Rachel," my mother's urgent whisper catches my attention. "Rachel, stay close to me and the aunts."
I hesitate, torn between the desire to stay and help, and the knowledge that I need to find the book future Joey had mentioned. It might be the MacTaggart witches' book.
"Mum," I hiss, leaning close, "I need to go back to Dùndubhan immediately. It's urgent. No time to explain."
"You can't go anywhere by yourself, Rachel. Not with these thugs here who just showed up."
"I said step aside," Fulvio snarls, almost seeming to gnash his teeth like an angry animal.
My father stands his ground, drawing himself up to his full, imposing height. "I suggest ye leave now, before things get ugly."
Hamish and several other clan members gather round our wee family, encircling us in a protective manner. They bar their arms over their chests, just as Father and Joey also do.
If I were to search the entire castle from top to bottom, including the moat and the garderobe channel, then mayhap...No, it's impossible.
The book does not exist in this century.