Forevermore Read online

  Just then, my bedside lamp goes out; a frosty chill descends upon the room. Mist thickens and swirls around me. Goose bumps rise on my skin.

  “Logan,” I say, in almost a whisper. I don’t realize how scared I am until I barely hear my voice. “Logan!”

  He immediately appears, looks at me, the icy room, and the rowan in my hand. His face grows angry. “Ivy, leave,” he says. “Now!”

  I drop the rowan, run to the door, and grab the knob. It is stuck in place. “It won’t open,” I say, twisting it back and forth. “Logan, it’s stuck!”

  “Open the bloody door!” Logan commands to … someone. Or something. “Now!”

  Just then, a shadowy figure emerges from the mist. Its face … a jagged open mouth with sharp teeth and black holes for eyes. The rest of the figure is a blur. But it lunges at me, and I dart away.

  Logan leaps at the figure and my eyes widen as his hands encircle the figure’s neck. With a forceful fling, Logan throws it against the wall. When I blink, the figure has arms, hands, and legs. It strikes at Logan, and he fights it off.

  I spy my iron poker in the corner. I run toward it, grab it, and just as Logan throws the figure against the wall again, I swing the poker at it. Hard.

  It instantly vanishes.

  At once, normal temperature returns to the room, the bedside lamp turns on, and a click sounds at the door.

  Remembering the sound of my mother crying out, I twist the doorknob and it opens. I take off down the corridor.

  “Ivy, wait!” I hear Logan call behind me.

  But I don’t wait.

  “Follow me!” I call after him.

  I reach my mother’s room. I’m about to open the door when Elizabeth emerges. Her eyes narrow.

  “Your mother has fallen ill and needs to rest. Return to your chambers, Ivy,” she commands.

  “I want to see my mom,” I say, now frantic. What’s wrong with my mother? I feel a stab of panic. Or is something wrong with the baby inside her?

  “Return to your chambers, young lady,” Elizabeth says again. “You can see your mother when she is feeling better.”

  “I’ll see her now —”

  Niall steps from the room, his impossible height towering over me. He glances first at his grandmother, then at me.

  “Ivy, your mother is simply experiencing morning sickness at night,” he says. “Not an uncommon symptom of pregnancy, I hear.” He’s worried, I can tell. “She’s just fallen back to sleep. I’ll watch over her. I promise.”

  “Ivy,” Logan, in his invisible state, whispers in my ear. “I’ve just looked in on her. She is indeed sleeping. Come with me,” he says. “Just walk away.”

  “I want to see her when she wakes up,” I say to Niall, and he gives me a single nod.

  I glare at Elizabeth, turn, and leave.

  Down the darkened corridor Logan and I walk toward the stairs. We’re just about to round the corner to the steps when Jonas appears. In his long, blue woolen robe and striped pajamas, he looks like something out of a Charles Dickens novel. The only thing missing is a long, pointy nightcap and a candle.

  “Ah, young Ivy,” he says, and glances at Logan. “Master Munro,” he whispers. “Why are you up in the middle of the night, lass?” he asks me.

  “You mean after some crazy spirit thing attacked me and fought Logan in my room? I heard my mother cry out,” I answer, frustrated. “Elizabeth and Niall won’t let me see her.” I search Jonas’s expression, wondering if he knows anything. “He says she has morning sickness.”

  Jonas’s eyes widen. “Och, lass. Something attacked you? Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m fine.” I glance at Logan. “I had a lot of help.” I look back at Jonas. “But my mom. Morning sickness?”

  “Bloody morning sickness,” Jonas says quietly. “Aye, can be quite vicious.” His kind eyes are reassuring. “I promise I’ll keep a listen out for her, dear. Don’t you worry.” Shooting a look at Logan, he lifts one silver eyebrow. “Lad, what was it that tried to attack Ivy?”

  “ ’Twas something I could physically put my hands on,” Logan says. “I believe ’twas another spirit.”

  “Oh, dear. What happened before it appeared?” Jonas asks.

  Quickly, I tell him about the rowan bark, the temperature drop, the locked door.

  “Rowan.” Jonas slips a quick look at Logan.

  “Aye, rowan,” Logan says.

  “It must be burned. Toss it out your window, and I’ll do the deed tonight,” Jonas instructs.

  I thank Jonas and start up the steps. I don’t know if everything is now starting to really get to me, but the walls seem to close in on me. If I stare long enough at the aged stone, it seems to breathe. My gaze fixes onto the lone straight-backed chair farther down the hall until I get to my room. I fling open the door and hurry inside.

  “Ivy,” Logan says softly. “Stop. Please.”

  I don’t, though, until I’ve grabbed the rowan bark and thrown it out the window. Within minutes, Jonas appears on the stone walkway below and sets the bark on fire, just as he promised. I stare at the smoldering wood until it’s nothing more than a pin-dot ember.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. For tonight, maybe, I can rest easy. But whatever dark spirit exists in the castle — I think it’s still here.

  My eyes crack open in the morning. I want to call Logan’s name but then I remember he’s gone. On his way to the Munros. Fear and excitement course through me. I hope he makes it.

  I notice a strange something streaming across my bedroom. I haven’t seen it in … days. It looks foreign. Out of place in the dreariness of Glenmorrag.

  Sunlight.

  Scrambling from the plaid confinement of my draped bed, I hurry to the picture window. Early-morning mist drifts across the ground, but high above, through the clouds, a break, allowing a golden beam to burn its way straight to me. I press my face to the glass. No warmth — the pane is still freezing. But there is light.

  Hurriedly, I dress. Jeans. Thermal. Button-up shirt. Boots. I want to be totally ready when Amelia texts me. So much to discuss today. So much hope.

  On the second-floor landing, I run into Niall.

  “Och, Ivy,” he says, and his face is tired. Haggard. Like he’s been up all night. “You poor lasses. If you all have to endure this … morning sickness when you carry a babe, God bless ya.”

  “Is Mom okay?” I ask, and peer toward the door.

  He nods. “She’s finally getting some rest. I’m on my way to get her some more ginger ale in the village.” He inclines his head. “Grandmother is in with her now.”

  My stomach drops. That doesn’t make me feel any better about Mom’s condition.

  “Walk wi’ me, Ivy,” Niall says, and I agree. We both head up the corridor. “I know Gran hasna quite taken to you,” he says. “She’s a dodgy old thing lately.” He glances at me as we walk. “Please overlook her bad behavior. She’s like an old dog at this point. No teachin’ her any new tricks.”

  I’m now convinced Niall doesn’t know just how awful his grandma has been to me. More than awful. Not … right. And I don’t have enough evidence to show him.

  “It’s okay,” I say instead. “I just want my mom to get better.”

  Niall stops me, his hand on my shoulder. “I’d never let anything happen to her.”

  Looking at the sincerity in my stepdad’s eyes, I believe him. I think about how Logan vowed to protect me. And I realize Niall might not be so bad after all.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “So where are you off to today?” he asks as we continue down the stairs.

  “Amelia Munro is picking me up,” I say. “Serrus and Emma are going over there, too.”

  “Aye? What for?”

  My mind races. Oh, you know. Looking for ways to bring my dead boyfriend back to life. To figure out how he died, and what’s haunting Glenmorrag. “Movies.” I shrug. “They have an enormous movie room.”

  “Have a fine time,”
he says. “Dunna worry too much about your mum.”

  “I’ll try,” I say.

  Zipping up my coat, I head outside. I’m a little nervous. Scratch that. I’m a lot nervous. About leaving Mom. About whether or not Logan makes it to the Munros okay.

  And what’s going to happen once I get to the Munro Tower House.

  My cell phone vibrates. I grab it. It’s Emma.

  Did he make it? she asks.

  Haven’t heard yet, I respond.

  Bollocks. Well let me know asap xo

  I take a walk to the cliffs. The roar of the sea, paired with the wind, is deafening. The gulls manage to screech above it, though, and I watch them swoop and dive. Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at the castle behind me. It’s so … huge.

  And suddenly I feel very much alone.

  I’m used to Logan being at my side.

  My phone vibrates again. If it’s Emma, I’ll strangle her.

  It’s Amelia.

  He’s made it! Girl, he is cute! I’ll be over to pick you up in thirty minutes.

  Yes! I text back, laughing right out loud. I’m waiting in the drive. I’m so excited I can barely stand still.

  Within twenty-five minutes, Amelia pulls up in an old white Rover. I can see her wide smile from where I stand. She slows, and I pull open the door and climb in.

  “Now,” Amelia says as she drives, “we’ve got approximately twenty-three minutes before we arrive at the tower, so why don’t you tell me every little detail about how you first met Logan, and everything that has transpired since.” She gives me a sly look. “Don’t leave one juicy detail out, either, Ivy Calhoun. I mean it.”

  I laugh. “I will, but first,” I ask, “did it all really happen? Just the way you wrote it in Enchanted Love?”

  Amelia gives me a quick glance and a smile. “Every last detail. Including Ethan’s proposal at the airport.” She laughs. “I gotta hand it to him. Having passengers get off the plane and walk up to me in the airport and each hand me a single rose and a card with one word on it, all put together saying Will you wed me, lass? is pretty freaking clever.” She winks at me. “Don’t you think?”

  “Well, especially since you’d thought you’d lost him forever,” I say. “That story was, is … amazing beyond belief. When you had gone home to Charleston, and your friend brought you that postcard from Scotland, and it had that picture on it of the yew tree? With Ethan loves Amelia, by the by … carved into it?” I sigh. “Oh my gosh,” I say. “Makes you sincerely believe in magic — and miracles.”

  “It truly does,” Amelia agrees.

  “So is that really how you brought him back to life?” I ask. “Reciting that old Gaelic incantation, over a burning scrap of yew wood?” I’m hopeful. “Can I do the same for Logan?”

  Amelia keeps her eyes on the road. “I looked up the spell yesterday and unfortunately I don’t think it will work on Logan. He’s not in between death and life the way Ethan and his kinsmen were. I’m not sure if there’s any way to reverse his current state.” She pauses. “I’m sorry, Ivy.”

  I fall silent, a lump forming in my throat. I should have known it was too much to wish for. But still …

  “It’s okay,” Amelia assures me. “There’s still much to talk about. We don’t quite know what Logan’s story is. But,” she adds brightly, “why don’t you finally tell me how you met Logan?”

  This is just the right question to lift my mood. I start at the beginning, when I first spied Logan Munro in the castle kitchen.

  When we pull into the Munros’ long, shadowy drive lined with Scotch pines, I’m still talking away. Amelia parks the Rover, and I finish with what had happened the night before.

  “That awful thing in your room sounds terrifying.” She shakes her head and gets out, and I follow. “How’d you know to use something made of iron?”

  I close the car door. “Emma. I carried it around for a while.”

  “Aye, the lass knows how to look after herself,” a familiar voice says behind me.

  I turn, and Logan is standing a few feet away. I hurry up to him and stop just before plowing through him. I realize I’m about to give him a hug, as if that’s the perfectly natural response. It is. Just not to a ghost.

  “Hey,” I say, excited and flustered all at once. “You made it.”

  Logan gives a nod. “I did indeed.”

  Words in a language I don’t understand rise from the steps of the tower house — or keep, as Amelia corrected me earlier.

  I look behind Logan to see Ethan and his cousins all gathered there. Grinning. When I glance back at Logan, he grins, too, and shrugs.

  “Family,” he says.

  At that moment, Serrus pulls up on his motorcycle, and Emma’s on the back. They park, and we head inside. Again, we all gather in the great hall.

  I take a seat on the same mossy-green velvet chair I did before. Logan sits next to me. The guys all pile in on sofas and recliners. Amelia sits across from me, perched on a big wooden coffee table.

  “Ivy, I want you to tell Ethan and the guys what you told me on the way over,” Amelia says. I pause, not wanting to tell all these men — with Logan there, no less, about my growing feelings for Logan. “The dark presence and weird goings-on,” she clarifies, and I give her a grateful smile.

  So I begin. Ethan and the other Munros listen intently. I tell them of being pushed into the freezer, nearly choking, the raven and the rowan bark, the hideous figure in the maze, and in my room. The Munros all exchange looks, silent.

  “I wonder,” I say out loud, “if this spirit, whatever it is, has something to do with Logan and his murder?”

  “No’ tae scare you, lass,” Aiden speaks up, “but it sounds tae me as though the living is controlling something … unliving.”

  “And no’ tae scare you even worse, but who’s tae say my cousin here was murdered?” Ethan says.

  Shock creeps over me, and I feel the blood rush from my face. Ethan’s right. What if Logan simply had a tragic accident?

  “I can see smoke risin’ from atop your head at all those thoughts, lass,” Ethan says. “But what I meant was, who’s tae say young Logan here is dead at all? He doesna recall dyin’.”

  I blink. I look at Logan, then at Amelia, then back to Ethan.

  “All I’m sayin’ is, we have tae keep all doors open here,” Ethan goes on. “You know our tale.” He sweeps the hall, indicating his kinsmen. “You know we were accursed. Ghostly during the daylight hours and the night. Only during that space of the gloaming time did we gain our bodies and become mortal.”

  I nod, amazed that what sounds like legend is so real.

  “ ’Twasn’t till I fell in love with Amelia here and we did the incantation with the yew bark, that the curse was lifted,” Ethan goes on. He squints at Logan. “Do you remember anything at all, lad? Anything that can close the gap from before and after?”

  I look up at Logan, and I see his brows knit together in thought. He shakes his head. “Nay.”

  “Maybe showing him the portrait room will jog his memory,” Amelia says. She stands and looks at first me, then Logan. “Come on.”

  Amelia leads the way. Up the spiral staircase, we all trek to the library. The lights are off, but there is sunshine streaming through the windows, casting brilliant shafts across the wood-planked floor. Amelia walks over to the wall of portraits, Logan right behind her.

  “My mother,” Logan whispers, and steps closer to the portrait of Mirrah Munro. Longing fills his eyes, and he reaches up with a hand, as if to touch it, then pulls it back to his side. “I miss her. She was a good mum.”

  “Anything else?” Ethan asks from behind us.

  Logan’s gaze moves to the next portrait. “Uncle Patrick.” His gaze lingers there, searching, studying every detail. He cocks his head and draws closer, but doesn’t say a word. He stares for a long time. He moves closer to the portrait, then backs up.

  “What is it?” I ask, staring at the image of Patrick. Something bothers
me about it, too, and just like before, I can’t place what it is.

  Everyone in the room moves closer. We’re all staring at the portrait now. Even Emma is studying it.

  “ ’Tis the ring,” Logan finally says, and looks directly at me. “ ’Tis the same bloody ring Elizabeth MacAllister wears now.” His eyes search mine. “She’s always twisting it.”

  My eyes widen as I stare at the ring on Patrick’s finger. “You’re right,” I whisper.

  It’s the same bright ruby ring, right down to the intricate setting. My heart begins to thud. That was what I had noticed before, but it hadn’t registered. I look at Logan, then Ethan. “What does that mean?”

  Ethan squints at the ring, too. “I dunno,” he says. “It doesna make much sense. Why would a present-day MacAllister have the ring of a long-dead Munro?”

  “I’m not sure,” I answer. “But that’s exactly what I’m going to find out.”

  We spend the rest of the day at the Munro keep. After lunch, Amelia, Ethan, and the rest of the clan walk us out to the forest behind the old tower house.

  The sun has disappeared once more, and gloom and mist settle over the Highlands. The air is still sweet, though, and cold and crisp as we follow the Munros down a well-beaten path. Logan walks beside me, and we exchange several glances. His eyes glimmer like quicksilver.

  The deeper into the forest we go, the more shadowy it becomes. Long wisps of mist slip over the ground and through the trees towering overhead. The spicy scent of Scotch pine fills the air, and somewhere above, a raven caws.

  Finally, at the end of the path, a small clearing.

  In that clearing, a tree. An ancient, gnarled tree. And as we grow closer, I see an inscription, carved deep into the wood.

  Ethan loves Amelia. By the by …

  “Och,” Emma breathes. “Just like in the book.”

  The guys all erupt into laughter.

  “Exactly like the book,” Amelia says, and casts her gaze to me and Logan. “Ethan carved that in the fourteenth century. Anything’s possible, Ivy.”

  Ethan pulls his wife toward him and kisses the top of her head. Even though Amelia is tall, Ethan towers over her.