Forevermore Read online

  But while they talk, Logan keeps meeting my gaze, and giving me small smiles.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to meet one of your cousins?” I ask him.

  Logan nods. “Aye, more than ready,” he says, then frowns. “What if he doesna believe?”

  “I know. I’ll keep the twins busy outside while you introduce Logan to Serrus,” Emma tells me. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  And that’s exactly what we do. Serrus arrives just a few minutes ahead of the twins, whose mom drops them off at the front of the castle. While Emma distracts them by pointing out the peacocks, Serrus comes to the rectory. I meet him at the archway.

  “Remember that boy I was asking your cousin Ethan about?” I whisper to him.

  Serrus nods. “Aye, indeed. Logan.”

  I glance over my shoulder. “Logan?” I call.

  Serrus’s silver eyes, so much like Ethan’s and Logan’s, are questioning.

  Then they widen as Logan materializes before us.

  “Cousin,” Logan offers first.

  Serrus lets out a sigh, then glances at me. “Ivy! I dunna believe it. You coulda told me a while back.” He grins at Logan. “Och, but you look just like our other cousin, Ethan.”

  Logan nods. “Aye, Ivy here showed me his image on her computer screen.”

  Serrus runs his hand through his hair. “So. We’ve much to discuss, aye?”

  Logan nods. “Aye, indeed.”

  As far as ghosts meeting mortals go, I’d say this one went pretty well.

  I’m about to ask Serrus more questions about the Munros when Emma texts me. Apparently my mother and Niall are calling us inside for dinner, and the twins are threatening to eat all the food in the castle. I bid Logan a quick good-bye before Serrus and I head off. Logan promises me he won’t stray far from my side tonight.

  Elizabeth is resting up in her room tonight, so dinner is a fun, informal affair: hamburgers with the works, French fries, and black-and-orange frosted cupcakes, courtesy of Mom, for dessert. When we’re done, Derek, Cam, Emma, Serrus, and I set up out back, near the hedge maze, and carve the pumpkins Niall brought from the market. Mom brings us candles, and when we’re finished, we light up the jack-o’-lanterns and set them on the stone wall. It makes for a perfectly eerie Halloween sight. I’d be having a blast if the incident with the raven, and Logan’s earlier warning, weren’t echoing in my head.

  Logan keeps to his promise, though, and hovers off to the side all night. He smiles at me when I glance his way. I’m glad it’s dark outside because I can feel the heat stain my cheeks.

  “How ’bout a run through the maze?” Serrus challenges.

  “Ivy, you don’t count ’cause you live here,” Derek says with a grin. “You probably already know the route.”

  “I have no clue what the route is,” I say truthfully. “But I’m up for it if the rest of you are.”

  “Let’s split into groups,” Derek suggests, linking his arm through his sister’s. “Cam and I will go with Ivy.”

  Emma and Serrus exchange a shy glance. “I guess we’ll go together,” Emma says, and Serrus beams.

  Set in our groups, we all take off.

  Only the light from a three-quarter moon spills over the hedges and into the maze. Shadows lean awkwardly, and more times than once, I’m fooled by the illumination. I’m comforted knowing Logan is close by, watching.

  When one of those crazy peacocks screams out, Cam echoes with a scream of her own. Laughter erupts through the maze.

  It’s almost tempting to forget the frightening things going on at the castle and to just enjoy Halloween with new friends. No such luck. Suddenly, the mist grows thicker, edging its way between me and the twins up ahead. Clouds move in front of the moon. I hurry along the path, until I bump into the hedge. Backing up, I turn and start the other way. Again, more hedge.

  Then the mist slips upward. Derek’s and Cam’s voices grow fainter. The mist turns into fingers and grabs at me, covers my mouth. Panic seizes me. I try to scream, but my voice is stifled. Slowly, the mist is dragging me down into the maze. I kick my feet, thrash my arms, but it’s no use. The mist, or whatever it is, has complete hold over me.

  Crammed in a wedge of hedge, the branches all turn to long fingers with jagged nails, pulling at my hair, my face. Logan! I scream in my mind.

  The mist forms a face in front of me: frightening, with jagged black holes for the eyes and mouth.

  Stop your meddling or we will stop you, it croaks out. Branched fingers squeeze my throat, and I cough, choke. It willna take much to silence you —

  “Let her go!”

  Immediately, I’m released. Air sweeps into my lungs, and strong hands pull me from the hedge.

  For a second, I’m confused. Strong hands? That voice had been Logan’s. But when I stand, Serrus is steadying me. Logan stands right beside him.

  “Are you all right?” Logan asks. He looks around, searching. “What happened?”

  By now, the others have found their way to us. To Derek and Cam, it looks as if I’m just talking to Serrus.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. “It was a warning, though.” I look at Logan, and his features are almost see-through in the moonlight.

  “Of what?” Serrus asks.

  Logan’s face is pinched with worry, the lines between his brows furrowed.

  “A warning to stop meddling,” I answer. “But I’m okay, really.” I don’t like being fussed over, and I certainly don’t want everyone thinking I need rescuing. Although, what would have happened had Logan and Serrus not shown up? “I’m fine. I promise.”

  Logan’s looking down at me, and his taut features and ticking jaw muscles say he doesn’t believe me at all.

  We hear the beep of a car horn — it’s the twins’ mom, coming to pick them up. We all slowly make our way out of the maze. Derek and Cam call out their good-byes and hurry toward their mom’s car.

  Once they leave, Serrus says to Logan, “Whatever’s going on here, you seem to have the power to make it stop.” He turns to me. “But if you need me, call my mobile.”

  Emma gives me a hug, making sure I’m all right. Then she climbs onto Serrus’s motorbike and they drive away.

  Logan walks with me to the jack-o’-lanterns, and I blow out all the candles. Glancing at the moon, I sigh. “Whatever happened to trick-or-treating and bobbing for apples?”

  Logan stands close, and moves closer still. He looks down at me, and his gaze moves to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. “I dunno about all that,” he says in his raspy brogue, “but if anything happens to you, gell …” He shakes his head, then holds my gaze. “I willna stand for it.”

  Butterflies beat the inside of my stomach. “I’m glad I met you, Logan Munro,” I say.

  We stand there, beneath the Samhain moon, and I find my legs turning into weak noodles.

  “What Emma said to you in your room, upstairs,” he asks, that charming smile tipping his mouth upward. “Is that so?”

  I pretend not to know what he’s referring to. “What do you mean?”

  “Dunna play daft with me, lass,” he says. “Do you?”

  I knew he’d heard. “You were eavesdropping,” I accuse. “Not cool.”

  His grin widens, and he steps closer. “Answer the question, Ivy Calhoun.” His eyes twinkle in the moonlight. “And remember what a terrible liar you are before you give me an answer.”

  I blush clear to my roots, but he’s right. “Yeah,” I finally admit, and I meet his gaze. “I do feel that way.”

  Logan’s smile widens. “Well,” he says, after staring at me for a ridiculously long time, “let’s go. This night, if you dunna mind, I’ll be by your side whilst you sleep.” He glances at the moon. “At least until the bewitching hour has passed.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” I answer. I grab my violin case and together we walk back.

  Logan, ever the gentleman, waits outside my door while I get changed for bed. Then I call him in as I crawl beneath the cove
rs. He makes himself comfortable, sitting at the foot of my bed, playing his flute. I love that only I can hear him.

  With the music soothing me, I start reading Enchanted Love again. Eventually, I can’t tell if Logan has stopped playing or not. I’m so fully into the incredible story. My heart beats faster and faster as the pages turn. It ends up that the American author in the book is able to reverse the enchantment on the Scottish men, and they come to life. She marries the clan leader and they all live together in the modern day. By midnight, I’m finished.

  “Logan,” I whisper.

  He bolts upright off the floor. “What is it?” he asks worriedly.

  “I’m okay, I’m okay,” I reassure him. “But I have a feeling your cousins are more closely related to you than you think.”

  Logan cocks his head at me. “What do you mean?”

  The book has given me an incredible notion. “What if,” I begin, “we could reverse your … condition?”

  Logan stares at me for a long while, and I wait. “You’ve gone mad,” he declares.

  “This book that your cousin’s wife wrote?” I say, my voice shaking with excitement. “It’s their story. It happened to them in real life. I’m sure of it!”

  “What are you talkin’ about, gell?” he asks.

  I rub my face. “I don’t know. Maybe I am crazy. But,” I say, looking straight at Logan, “I think Ethan and his clansmen are old. Like, really old. Centuries old,” I watch Logan’s expression. “And I think Amelia met them in this century. And I think she … I don’t know, undid their curse somehow.” My eyes lock with his. “What if we could do the same with you?”

  Logan’s expression softens. “Ivy, darlin’,” he says. “I’m no’ cursed. I’m dead. There’s no … undoin’ it.” He gives me a sad smile. “But I thank you for wantin’ to try it.”

  I inhale, exhale. “You may be dead, but that doesn’t mean you’re not cursed. I’m still going to try to undo it. Why else would Amelia tell me to read this book with an open mind, and to call her as soon as I finish?”

  “Well, for now …” Logan glances at the clock. “You’ve made it past the bewitching hour. School comes early in the morn and you’ll have dark circles beneath those beautiful eyes of yours if you dunna get some rest.”

  I shake my head and smile. “Okay, okay. Good night, Logan.”

  I crawl beneath the covers and close my eyes, but in my head, thoughts run wild. As soon as I can, I’m talking to Amelia.

  I call her the next morning, after Logan has wished me a good day and I’ve gone downstairs. I huddle in one of the hidden corridors off the kitchen and dial the number Amelia gave me. She answers on the first ring and sounds excited to hear from me.

  “I loved your book,” I tell her, then take a deep breath. “It’s your story, isn’t it? And I don’t mean yours as in you wrote it. But yours. And Ethan’s. And his clansmen.”

  Amelia laughs softly into the phone. “That’s one open mind you got there, kiddo,” she says. “And we definitely need to do this in person.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  “But,” she goes on, “I’m actually at the airport right now. I have to fly to the States for a short meeting with my editors. I’ll only be a few days.”

  “Oh, man,” I say under my breath.

  Amelia laughs. “I promise, the second I get home, I’ll call you. And I’ll explain everything.”

  I sigh into the phone. “Thanks, Amelia.”

  The time passes while I wait for Amelia’s return. I keep busy with my after-school music practice and homework and Logan. But as each day slips by, the Highlands become colder. A dreary gray canopy overhangs Glenmorrag. The trees are mostly barren and spindly. I haven’t seen the sun in ages. I’ve lost track of time now. Other things occupy my mind.

  Like the fact that I think I’m falling for a ghost. I admit this to no one, although Emma sees right through me. I did admit to Logan that I liked him, but even he doesn’t realize how much. It makes no sense, even to me at times.

  As my self-appointed guard, Logan gives me privacy, but he is never too far away. He’s also my companion. We walk. We talk. When I go to the rectory to play my strings, he’s there with me. He plays his flute for me, and there’s nothing quite like being able to share our music.

  And nothing strange or sinister has happened since Halloween.

  On Friday afternoon, I’m walking through the great hall after school, planning to meet Logan upstairs, when I run slap into Grandmother Elizabeth.

  Her small hand encircles my wrist like a band of iron. I’m so shocked at her strength, I gasp. It actually hurts where she’s grabbing me, and I fight the urge to squeal.

  “Where are you running to so fast, girl?” she asks. She shakes me, and my head snaps from the force of it. “Answer me!”

  “Nowhere!” I exclaim, trying to yank away. “Let me go!”

  “Are you snooping through my home?” she demands, in almost a growl. “Digging in drawers, going through rooms that are no’ yours? Are you?”

  “No!”

  Logan appears and stares in horror. “Ivy! What’s she doing?”

  “Oh, there you are, Miss Ivy.” Jonas’s voice echoes up the corridor. Immediately, Elizabeth drops my arm. Jonas walks toward me.

  Logan doesn’t even bother disappearing.

  “I thought you’d like some tea and cakes after school,” he says. “If you’ll meet me in the kitchen, then?” He turns politely to Elizabeth and nods. “Good afternoon, Lady MacAllister.”

  Grandmother Elizabeth, with only a foul glare, hurries away.

  I’m trembling, I realize. I look at Logan.

  He stares in the direction of old Elizabeth. He stares for a long time.

  “Come, you two,” Jonas says. “Ivy, why don’t you take young Munro here to the movie room and relax. Watch a good picture. Aye?”

  I nod. Elizabeth won’t bother me in there — I’ve heard her telling Niall she thinks movies and television are a waste of time. “Good idea, Jonas. And thanks.”

  Inside the cozy movie room, Jonas sets down the tray of tea and meets my gaze with his weathered one. “She is not herself these days, I’m afraid. Be careful, child.”

  “I will,” I assure him.

  Jonas leaves us alone. Logan sits down on the sofa beside me.

  “That,” I say, still shaken, “was beyond weird. I mean, Elizabeth has always been harsh toward me, but she’s never touched me before.” I shake my head. “I couldn’t break loose. She’s ninety-something and strong as a bull.”

  Logan frowns. “Lady or no’, I dunna like her laying a hand on you, Ivy. You have to tell your mum and stepfather.”

  I sigh. “I don’t want to bother them. Did I tell you they’re expecting?”

  Logan’s eyes widen. “The laird and his lady are with child?”

  “Aye,” I answer, and Logan laughs. “I guess my mind has been on everything but that,” I add.

  “You said aye,” he says.

  I laugh, too. “I did. Now let’s forget about everything for a while and get lost in a movie.” I examine the DVD selection. “Speed. Oh, you’ve got to watch this one. Most excellent. A classic.”

  “Speed. I’ve never heard of such,” Logan admits. “Shall we?”

  “Have you ever watched a movie before?” I ask, sliding the DVD into its slot and picking up the remote.

  “A few times I’ve caught the football game on the telly with Jonas or Ian, but no movies, I fear.”

  “Well, I know you’ve seen planes and cars and such,” I say. “But this is seriously great Hollywood stuff here.” I flick the movie onto play with the remote. I never thought I’d be having an afternoon movie date with a ghost.

  “So there’s a bomb beneath the bus,” Logan says soon after, completely engrossed. “And Jack and Annie have to slide beneath it on the piece of flooring and dismantle it?”

  “No,” I correct. “To escape it. Just watch.”

  Watch Logan does. In
tently. I stare at him as he stares at the flat screen. I can’t get over how in awe of everything he is, like a little boy. When the doomed bus explodes into the side of a parked airplane, Logan’s eyes widen and he jumps.

  I can’t help but laugh at his reactions.

  By the end, he relaxes. He looks at me, smiles, and I nearly turn into a pool of mush on the sofa. When I turn off the TV, I realize that it’s storming outside. Lightning flashes every few minutes, flickering into the room.

  “You have so much to entertain you in this day and age,” Logan marvels. “Music. Movies.” He pauses. “What sort of music do you like to listen to on your box you plug into your ears?”

  “My iPod? All sorts. Music from your day. My day. And in between.” I pull it out of my hoodie pocket, turn it on, and hold a bud up to my ear. I select a Beethoven piece, one of my favorites, and hold it to Logan’s ear. “See? I like this.”

  Logan listens for a moment, then smiles. “That sounds familiar. Fanciful, but familiar.”

  Next I choose “Walk This Way” by Aerosmith, and hold it to Logan’s ear. He starts to grin. “That’s … fast. Exciting. I like it.”

  Then I hit play on a piece I’d written and performed on an electric violin. Logan listens for a moment and then looks right at me, intently.

  “That’s your music,” he says with confidence.

  I smile. “It is.”

  Logan inches closer to me on the couch.

  “I’m wondering about something,” I ask.

  One dark eyebrow lifts high, and his smile is wolfish. “Dare I ask what?”

  I like the way his r’s roll, and sometimes he doesn’t finish his t’s.

  “Do you think you could feel my hand if I touch yours?” I venture.

  “I dunna know,” he says, his voice quiet. “Try.”

  Where my courage comes from, I have no idea. With a tentative hand, I slowly stretch my fingers toward him, close to his hand that rests casually against his knee. I note the strength in that hand, the veins that snake over the top and disappear beneath the sleeve of his white shirt. Veins that look as though they pump with life-sustaining blood. I think I’ve been mistaken, and that Logan actually is alive, sitting on the sofa next to me. A cute guy who’s simply wearing nineteenth-century clothing for a play, maybe.