Glitter sprinkled from him as he marched from the dining room.
“There is something seriously wrong with that man,” Margareta said with a dismissing laugh.
“Rory, come here and try your ma’s cake.” Murdoch suppressed a grin as he lifted the slice in front of him.
“I had breakfast—” Rory tried to excuse himself.
“Nonsense,” Murdoch interrupted. “Take mine.”
Rory knew he wasn’t getting out of it as he walked around the table to sit by his father. “Thanks, Da.” He took the plate with the uneaten slice on it. “Ma, this looks amazing. Would ya mind giving Da another piece? I don’t feel right taking this one from him.”
Murdoch kicked him under the table. Rory gave a small cough.
Cait handed her husband another slice.
“Thank ya, my love.” Murdoch gazed lovingly at her. All his life, Rory had seen his father look at his mother just like that. And, knowing his da, he would eat every single bite of that cake no matter how bad it tasted, just to make her smile.
That is what Rory wanted. He wanted that kind of love.
He thought of Jennifer. The conversation between them had been stunted and awkward, and then there was the whole she-had-tried-to-stab-him thing. Logic told him to stay away and to tell his family there was danger.
He couldn’t form the words.
“You’re not eating,” his ma noted.
“Oh, uh…” Rory automatically looked at his father’s plate to see if he’d taken a bite first. Murdoch seemed to be waiting on him to go first.
“Is this bog witch thing something to worry about?” Cait furrowed her brow.
Rory knew that look. It instantly made him want to confess everything like a little kid in trouble.
“Raibeart was telling the truth this time, wasn’t he?” Cait crossed her arms over her chest.
“I don’t know what it is,” Rory said. “And her name is Jennifer, not Bog Witch.”
“Jennifer what?” Cait asked.
“I don’t know. Just Jennifer,” he answered.
“Ya mean there really was danger?” Margareta leaned closer to Cait to add her motherly stare to the equation as both women tried to force a confession out of him.
Rory picked up a fork and cut into the cake. He lifted a bite and mumbled, “I’m not sure,” before placing it in his mouth. Salt exploded over his taste buds, and he fought to keep from spitting it out. He put his fork on the table.
“Well?” his ma asked.
“Mm.” He tried to nod.
“Let me try—” Murdoch began, reaching for a fork.
Rory put his hand on his da’s to stop him. He couldn’t swallow. Standing, he grabbed a napkin from a stack that had been set out and spat his bite into is as artfully as he could.
Cait frowned.
“Ma did ya happen to mix up salt and sugar again?” he asked, wishing a drink was nearby.
Murdoch dropped his fork.
“No, did I?” Cait picked up the slice and brought a tiny bit to her lips. She made a face and shook her head. “Oh, that’s not good at all.” She grabbed the cake to carry it back to the kitchen with a dejected look on her face. They could hear her throwing it in the trash.
“Owe ya one, son,” his da whispered.
Rory kept the napkin to his lips and tried to spit more of the salty taste out of his mouth.
“I give up.” Cait walked back in empty-handed. She wiggled her fingers. Sparkles of magick rained over the table, and a new cake appeared where the old one had been. This one was decorated to magazine-cover perfection and was about three times as big as the first. “I don’t get it. I can boil a potion with my eyes closed, but this…” She waved her hand in frustration.
“My love, ya have so many skills, leave human cooking to the mortals,” Murdoch told his wife. “Let them have this one thing.”
“Rory don’t think ya are getting out of answering,” Margareta said. “What happened?”
He made a move to stand from the table. His ma held up her hand. Yellow light swirled around her fingertips in warning.
Rory settled back into his chair. “I was taking a shower, and the next thing I know I was tied to a tree with enchanted ropes, and I couldn’t use my magick to escape.”
“Sounds like your cousins,” Cait said.
“Aye,” Margareta and Murdoch agreed in unison.
“Uncle Raibeart found me on one of his midnight runs, and I convinced him to free me.” Rory tried to stand again. Cait lifted a finger and pointed that he should remain seated.
“Continue,” Cait said. “Where did the knife come from?”
“Jennifer was there chasing a lost puppy,” Rory said. “I thought she’d found it, but instead, she discovered the cursed knife. Until that moment, she couldn’t see me or the enchanted rope. Raibeart stopped her from coming after me, but he stunned her pretty good with an energy ball. We had to take her to the motel to sleep it off.”
“I have to ask, son,” Murdoch said. “Did ya drink anything with Raibeart before all this happened? Because it seems a little…”
“Strange,” Cait finished.
“Aye,” Aunt Margareta agreed.
“Are ya seeing little fairies dancing around your head?” his da continued.
“It happened,” Rory assured them. “I need to go check on Jennifer and make sure everything is all right with her. She didn’t remember any of it, but since this was a supernatural event and she’s human, we owe it to her to make sure she’s unharmed.”
“So you’re sure she’s not a bog witch?” Cait asked.
“She’s not a bog anything. She’s just a pretty girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Rory said, instantly regretting his words.
“Pretty?” Cait perked up a little.
“I mean, yeah, for a human.” Rory tried to downplay the comment.
“Do ya think…?” Cait looked at Margareta.
“I don’t see why not,” Margareta answered.
“Before ya start planning my wedding, maybe ya could see to it that the cursed knife is put away somewhere safe?” Rory stood and pointed toward the ceiling.
The blade was gone with only a hole to show for it.
“Raibeart,” Margareta muttered, leaving to confront the man.
“I think he kept the enchanted rope, too,” Rory called after her as she stormed from the room to collect the scian. “Might want to get that from him.”
“Ya are unharmed?” His ma leaned forward to grab his hands, now that he was alone in the dining room with his parents.
“I’m fine, Ma, I promise,” Rory said.
“And the puppy?” his da asked. “Did ya find the puppy?”
Rory smiled and nodded. All of the MacGregors were animal lovers. “Aye. The puppy is safe. The motel staff is spoiling him. I was actually thinking of keeping him. He’s a cute little guy. Traitor could use a playmate, I think. They say it keeps the older dogs young to have a puppy around.”
Traitor was his uncle Fergus’s English bulldog.
“I’m sure Fergus will help ya with the enchantments when it comes time,” Murdoch said. That was one benefit of being a warlock. Pets lived much longer than their expected lifespans. Fergus swore by enchantments and potions, but Rory always thought it had to do with the animals absorbing magick left over from their owners. The constant stream of it helped keep them young and healthy.