CursedLaird Read Free Page A

nearly sending her laptop crashing to
the floor. Why hadn’t she seen this before? It suddenly made sense. Shuffling
through her thoughts, she remembered the day she found it. The spirits gave her
a stiff warning that day as well. She remembered running from what she thought
was an angry banshee when she was a child. Until now, she hadn’t thought much
about it.
    While playing on the outskirts of the main grounds of
Taymouth Castle, she and the O’Reilly brothers stumbled on a forgotten root
cellar. The memory of Abel falling through the rotted doorway into a
pitch-black hole made her snort. That’s when they learned he was scared of the
dark. She and Percy quickly lit a makeshift torch of dried grass and sticks
then scrambled inside with Abel. They used their torch to light several
partially melted candles they found secured in sconces on the wall.
    The simple memory of the root cellar brought a cool
sensation to her skin and the smell of dirt, mud and stale air teased her
olfactory senses. Funny how strong a memory could be. She smiled, thinking
through that day’s adventure.
    They spent hours exploring the root cellar. The boys sampled
ale they found still corked in bottles and lined on the shelves. But one didn’t
contain liquid. She discovered a parchment rolled and hidden in an old ale
bottle. The cork disintegrated when she tugged it free. The screech of a
banshee sent her and the boys running from the cellar. She dropped the bottle,
but held on to the parchment as she ran. The boys took off through the woods
but she didn’t stop until she was safely in her room.
    She remembered being out of breath as she dropped upon her
bed. The memory of the screech echoed in her head, causing her to shiver. Get
out! Take nothing with ye least ye be cursed as well. When she’d finally
shaken off the banshee’s attack, she read the parchment for the first time.
Written upon it were words she didn’t understand but would never forget.
    Suddenly she realized these words haunted her and kept drawing
her back to Loch Tay. No matter how many great treasures she and Kip had found
over the years, something always hinted she’d missed one.
    Was it hidden in this poem?
    Caledonia walked across the room to her dresser. One glance
at her reflection and she knew she was severely in need of rest. A pair of
cerulean eyes stared back at her. Underneath lay a set of dark circles. She
rubbed her tired eyes.
    Sleep is overrated. She took a cleansing breath.
    She opened the top drawer and lifted the parchment from its hiding
place. It was in great shape, considering its age. Even as a child she’d known
its worth and had gently pressed it in wax paper, as if it were a delicate
flower she wished to keep forever. It took patience and a Gaelic dictionary to
help her read the words and etch them in her memory.
    A chill skittered down her spine and along her arms just as
it had the first time she’d translated the ancient Gaelic script. She rubbed
her arms against the sudden coolness that graced her skin. Were the spirits in
the room with her? Since the day she found the parchment, she sensed a soul
from the past kept an eye on her. But why? What did it want with her?
Caledonia’s eyes widened. Or did it guard this poem for some reason?
    That banshee didn’t scream at them until she uncorked the
bottle containing the parchment. Closing her eyes, she tried to envision the
shape she’d seen hovering in the root cellar. Was it an angry banshee, or
simply a woman’s ghost protecting something that belonged to her? Caledonia
shrugged as she opened her eyes. The memory was so faded she couldn’t determine
much about the image, but the words of warning, she’d never forget.
    She took the poem and crawled back into bed among the array
of research materials. Quickly, she flipped through the book on Scottish
history. Something she thought she’d seen piqued her interest. She skimmed the
pages until she found exactly what she needed. Balloch Castle