“So, pretty Jennifer?” his ma prompted as if being alone with his parents would make him more willing to talk about his love life.
“Ma, I don’t know. I gave her a ride home, and she didn’t seem interested in dating me. I’m more concerned with the cursed object that’s trying to kill me.” Rory patted her hand before standing from the table.
“I can tell ya like her,” Cait said. “I know my son.”
“Ya have to woo the ones who are worth it,” Murdoch advised.
“Ya mean take a potion to turn myself into a bird and serenade her from outside her window as ya did in the olden days?” Rory teased. “She might think I’m Iain, and that would cause all kinds of problems between him and Jane.”
“I hear they hold up boom boxes now for that,” Cait offered.
“Who’s been holding up your boom boxes?” Murdoch pretended to be upset. Cait came around the table to kiss her husband.
“I’m out of here. This is about to get weird.” Rory headed toward the door.
“Check in,” Cait ordered. “Let us know you’re all right, or we’ll come looking for ya.”
“She works at Crimson Tavern. I’ll be there. Don’t show up at her work. Ya might scare her off.” Rory quickened his steps as he went toward the stairs.
“No magick is strong enough to hold Raibeart the Great!” Raibeart ran from the back rooms. Cloth fairy wings flapped with each step. Jewel’s laughter followed him, as did Margareta’s scolding.
“Raibeart!” Margareta yelled.
Rory took the steps two at a time and hurried to his bedroom. He shut the door on the chaos erupting behind him.
Chapter Eight
Rory felt the breath rush out of him as his bedroom door shut behind him. He blinked—only to open his eyes to darkness. The door had not led to his bedroom. He tried to move but found his body wedged between a concrete wall and wooden planks. The room carried with it a musty odor, like stale air and bags of flour. A protrusion dug into his back.
“Not again,” he whispered, trying to wriggle free. His magick refused to rise when he called it forth. He slammed his shoulder forward, trying to dislodge himself. The more he fought, the tighter the wood seemed to press him into place until each breath became painful.
This time it was impossible to dismiss what was happening as a prank.
“Hello?” his breath came out on a pant, and the sound was barely loud enough for him to hear, let alone anyone else.
Seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity as he waited. And all he could do was wait—wait for the light, wait for someone to come, wait for the pressure on his chest to ease, or for it to press in so hard he died from asphyxiation.
Rory felt himself starting to panic. His hand began to tingle where the blood didn’t flow.
A door pushed open, and light flooded the space before him. He eagerly looked to see where he was being held. The wooden planks were the ends of restaurant pantry shelves pressing him into a brick wall. Large cans of ketchup came into focus. He tilted his head to see past them.
“Straws, ranch dressing, coffee.” Jennifer came through the door mumbling to herself.
Rory felt the panic leave. Seeing her calmed him, which he knew was ridiculous because she’d been enchanted to kill him the last time they were in a similar position.
Jennifer wore her work uniform. What looked to be a twist tie from a bread bag held her hair back from her face. He wondered at the odd choice in accessory. She reached for a light switch. “Straws, ranch dressing, cof—”
“Jennifer,” Rory interrupted, the sound of her voice propelling him to force the words out. “I’m so glad to see ya. I—”
“I need straws, ranch dressing, coffee.” Jennifer looked over the shelves, not hearing or seeing him. She lifted up on her toes to look at the top shelf. “Straws, ranch dressing, coffee.”
“Jennifer,” Rory repeated, grunting the word.
“Ah, straws. There you are.” She reached her hand to the high shelf, feeling around where she couldn’t see. He heard her fingers tapping on the wood. “Come…here…you…”
The sound of metal slid against the shelf. She dropped back on her heels and turned toward him. The cursed scian was back in her hand. Why wasn’t it locked away in the vault?
Her eyes met his.
“There you are,” she said.
“Jenn, wait.” He leaned into the shelf, trying desperately to dislodge himself.
“There you are,” she repeated, lifting the blade over her shoulder as she prepared to strike.
“Yo, hurry up. I need coffee like yesterday!” The door burst open, and another waitress entered the storage area.
Jennifer blinked in confusion and lowered her arm. Rory managed to push the shelf a couple of inches and slipped out from where it had him pinned. He snatched the blade from her hand.
“Whoa, hey,” the waitress said with a teasing laugh. “I thought we agreed, no turning tricks in the back room.”
“Kay?” Jennifer glanced between Kay and Rory. “What?”
“I should be the one asking you what,” Kay quipped. “You do know it’s rush hour, don’t you?”
“My fault,” Rory said. “I was trying to convince Jennifer to go out with me tonight after her shift.”
Jennifer turned to him and whispered, “You were?”
Seeing her beautifully confused expression, he found he very much wanted a real date with her. There was something about her eyes that haunted him and made him want to lean closer.
“I must not have been doing a good job of it if ya don’t remember.” He forced a smile even though his chest still ached.
“She says yes,” Kay answered for her as she went to grab coffee grounds from the shelf. “Girl, it’s about time you when out. And if it’s a rich, sexy MacGregor in a kilt, more power to you. Also, your table three needs soda refills. I don’t have time to do everything.”
Kay left the storage room.
“I…” Jennifer looked after Kay and then back at him. “What’s going on? How did you get in here?”
“That question requires a long answer,” he said. “I think it should wait until after your shift. When do ya get off?”
“Uh…” She glanced around, but there wasn’t a clock. “Like three hours?”
Three hours? He remembered she was working a double shift, so that meant it was late in the day. Like the last occasion he’d woke up trapped, time had slipped past him faster than he’d realized. He was missing part of a day. At least, he hoped it was only one day.
“Perfect, I’ll wait for ya,” Rory said.
“Is that a knife?” She eyed his hand and backed away from him.
“Yes. I’ll explain it later,” he said. There was no way he was putting the blade down. How it ended up back in her possession was beyond him, but clearly, his elders didn’t do a very good job of securing the cursed object.
“I don’t think you should have weapons in here,” she said.
When she turned to glance at the door, Rory waved his hand and whispered an enchantment spell to force her to ignore the concern. He hated using magick on her but thought it for the best considering the circumstances.