Warlocks MacGregor, Tome 2: Spellbound

CHAPTER 1

PROLOGUE

“Dè tha thu ag iarraidh?”

“What do I want?” Jane whispered, looking around in confusion for the speaker. She was unsure as to how she’d come to be outside. One moment she’d been in bed, the next in a garden. “I’m losing my mind.”

She knew this garden. She’d itched to get her hands on it ever since she’d moved to Green Vallis, Wisconsin. The plants were choking from neglect, but beneath their twisted wildness was rich soil. Most of the trees and shrubs would be salvageable—if not at their current location, then transplanted elsewhere. The grounds were expansive and had so much potential. Being located on a hill above the small town, it had ample sunlight and natural drainage when it rained. It belonged to an old mansion that had just recently been purchased after decades of sitting empty. Everyone in town knew the story of its builder—the displaced English lord. He’d been a rake or a rogue or whatever they called the rambunctiously decadent men of the time.

Despite whatever the nobleman had lacked in his personal life, he’d had a great eye for creating picturesque beauty. The property came with eighty acres of land, including part of the surrounding forest with a stream running through it and the old English landscape garden. Yes, the giant house was nice, but Jane saw it more as a backdrop to the nature surrounding it. She couldn’t imagine owning eighty acres of land. The mere idea of it was a kind of what-would-you-do-if-you-won-a-million-dollars pipe dream.

“Dè tha thu ag iarraidh!”

Jane flinched as she found the bearer of the mysterious voice. Why was a Scottish woman screaming at her? And why was the woman’s tiny frame aging so rapidly Jane could see the wrinkles forming on the pretty face as if the woman was living an entire lifetime in a single afternoon?

Jane knew she was hallucinating. What else could this be? The doctors had warned her that her mind would eventually deteriorate. Even so, this hallucination felt very familiar as if she’d lived this moment but couldn’t remember it.

“Thalla’s cagainn bruis!”

“Chew a brush?” Jane tried to translate the woman’s words. It made no logical sense that she understood any of it, as she didn’t speak Gaelic. She frowned, looking at an overgrown gooseberry bush a few feet from where she stood on the cobblestone path. Not knowing why she tried to obey, she lifted her arm in its direction but couldn’t reach. Why couldn’t she reach it?

She looked down. A light fog surrounded her legs. It held her immobile like metal shackles. Fog like shackles? She should be able to run through the fog.

“Dè tha thu ag iarraidh?”

“I don’t know what I want,” Jane answered, blinking rapidly as a wrinkled finger pointed a little too close to her nose. How could the finger be so close? The woman was nearly twelve feet away down the path near the mansion’s exterior wall. Fear filled her, nearly choking the breath from her lungs. “Why can I understand what you’re saying? Who are you? How did I get here? What do you want?” She remained rooted in place, like the wild overgrowth around her yearning to be saved. “I don’t understand why you’re yelling at me.”

The aging woman’s finger dissipated into mist but did not disappear. Instead, the mist surrounded Jane’s head. She swatted it away, but the action only caused the mist to swirl up her nose. Around her, the plants moved, coming to animated life. They stretched and grew, aging like the now-old woman before her, then transforming into a beautiful combination of lilac and purple Scottish heather. The heady scent of flowers and honey was so strong it burned her nostrils and caused her eyes to water. Bagpipes sounded in the distance, impossibly carried on a wind that did not stir.

And then…nothingness.