Stirring Up Trouble: A Warlocks MacGregor Novella by Michelle M. Pillow Page B
Authors: Michelle M. Pillow
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kept them from killing trees, and enabled them to replenish nature.
“Belladonna comes. Hold down the fort, Euann, we’re counting on ya to protect us all.” Rory smirked and hurried into the dining room.
A soft knock sounded on the door. Angus again motioned for his son to get out of the way and moved as if he would open the door. Euann shook his head in denial and refused to leave his post.
The knock sounded again.
Angus zapped a little stream of magick at his son, shocking him just enough in the hip to get him to jump aside.
“Ow!” Euann protested. He returned fire, shooting a tiny stream of magick at his father. Angus laughed and darted from the room, still carrying the turkey leg.
Fergus sighed, curious to see the creature at the door.
“Uncle Fergus, no,” Euann warned. “Do not let her in.”
Drawing his hand behind him, he let a concentrated ball of magick equip his palm. His body tensed as he reached for the doorknob.
“It’s your funeral,” Euann said before running from the room.
Fergus wasn’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the lovely woman holding a basket. He glanced behind her, confused. No zombie army. No hoard of bees. No legion of stray cats. Just a hillside covered with snow.
“Hi, neighbor.” Her bubbly voice was incredibly pleasant. The sound took him by surprise. As did her smile. She looked nothing like his Elspeth, except for the line of her jaw. A lot of women had that jaw. He’d seen it numerous times over the years as he’d looked for pieces of Elspeth in every woman he came across. And each time he wanted to touch whatever piece of her resemblance he thought he’d found, just to see he if could feel his wife again. He refrained, not touching the visitor.
The jaw is where the similarities ended. The basket-wielding threat in front of him had dark auburn hair, not brown sun-streaked with blonde. Aye, hair could be dyed, but eyes could not. Her eyes were dark brown, not green. Plus, she was shorter and not willowy. No Elspeth here. Again. Even if his wife came back as someone else, he’d sense his magick inside her radiating back at him. He would know her soul. Of that, he was certain. Elspeth was his heart. He would know her when he saw her.
Fergus slowly squished the energy ball and drew his empty hand from behind his back. The cold winter air circled his naked legs beneath the kilt, but it didn’t bother him. Behind him, the house stayed warm, the invisible barrier not letting the cold air in even as he held the physical door open. He again glanced over the expansive front lawn and long cobblestone driveway, trying to see why Euann had run. He sensed nothing in the outbuildings, nothing in the woods beyond the curve of the hill.
“I, ah, wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” the woman said. She lifted the basket. “I hope your family is settling in nicely.”
Fergus turned his gaze back to her. They had been in the neighborhood for months. It seemed a little late to have a welcoming committee stop by, and she was hardly the first to show up at their doorstep. Many of the townspeople were curious about the new Scottish clan living in the mansion on the hill overlooking Green Vallis.
Knitted gloves matched the woman’s scarf and hat. Pink tinted her cheeks. She had nice eyes and an open smile. He found himself studying her face, wondering at the mystery behind her. How could she possibly be a threat? She seemed so genuine and kind. And lovely. Very, very lovely to look at.
A siren, perhaps? Fergus inhaled deeply. No, they were too far from Greek waters, and she didn’t smell of saltwater and fish.
“Are those bagpipes I hear?” she asked, leaning to glance inside the home.
Fergus didn’t hear anything. He gave a small shake of his head.
“Oh.” She gestured the basket toward him. “So, ah, welcome?”
Slightly confused, he lifted the cloth napkin to look inside. Her smile widened, and he found himself reaching in to take out a
“Belladonna comes. Hold down the fort, Euann, we’re counting on ya to protect us all.” Rory smirked and hurried into the dining room.
A soft knock sounded on the door. Angus again motioned for his son to get out of the way and moved as if he would open the door. Euann shook his head in denial and refused to leave his post.
The knock sounded again.
Angus zapped a little stream of magick at his son, shocking him just enough in the hip to get him to jump aside.
“Ow!” Euann protested. He returned fire, shooting a tiny stream of magick at his father. Angus laughed and darted from the room, still carrying the turkey leg.
Fergus sighed, curious to see the creature at the door.
“Uncle Fergus, no,” Euann warned. “Do not let her in.”
Drawing his hand behind him, he let a concentrated ball of magick equip his palm. His body tensed as he reached for the doorknob.
“It’s your funeral,” Euann said before running from the room.
Fergus wasn’t sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t the lovely woman holding a basket. He glanced behind her, confused. No zombie army. No hoard of bees. No legion of stray cats. Just a hillside covered with snow.
“Hi, neighbor.” Her bubbly voice was incredibly pleasant. The sound took him by surprise. As did her smile. She looked nothing like his Elspeth, except for the line of her jaw. A lot of women had that jaw. He’d seen it numerous times over the years as he’d looked for pieces of Elspeth in every woman he came across. And each time he wanted to touch whatever piece of her resemblance he thought he’d found, just to see he if could feel his wife again. He refrained, not touching the visitor.
The jaw is where the similarities ended. The basket-wielding threat in front of him had dark auburn hair, not brown sun-streaked with blonde. Aye, hair could be dyed, but eyes could not. Her eyes were dark brown, not green. Plus, she was shorter and not willowy. No Elspeth here. Again. Even if his wife came back as someone else, he’d sense his magick inside her radiating back at him. He would know her soul. Of that, he was certain. Elspeth was his heart. He would know her when he saw her.
Fergus slowly squished the energy ball and drew his empty hand from behind his back. The cold winter air circled his naked legs beneath the kilt, but it didn’t bother him. Behind him, the house stayed warm, the invisible barrier not letting the cold air in even as he held the physical door open. He again glanced over the expansive front lawn and long cobblestone driveway, trying to see why Euann had run. He sensed nothing in the outbuildings, nothing in the woods beyond the curve of the hill.
“I, ah, wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” the woman said. She lifted the basket. “I hope your family is settling in nicely.”
Fergus turned his gaze back to her. They had been in the neighborhood for months. It seemed a little late to have a welcoming committee stop by, and she was hardly the first to show up at their doorstep. Many of the townspeople were curious about the new Scottish clan living in the mansion on the hill overlooking Green Vallis.
Knitted gloves matched the woman’s scarf and hat. Pink tinted her cheeks. She had nice eyes and an open smile. He found himself studying her face, wondering at the mystery behind her. How could she possibly be a threat? She seemed so genuine and kind. And lovely. Very, very lovely to look at.
A siren, perhaps? Fergus inhaled deeply. No, they were too far from Greek waters, and she didn’t smell of saltwater and fish.
“Are those bagpipes I hear?” she asked, leaning to glance inside the home.
Fergus didn’t hear anything. He gave a small shake of his head.
“Oh.” She gestured the basket toward him. “So, ah, welcome?”
Slightly confused, he lifted the cloth napkin to look inside. Her smile widened, and he found himself reaching in to take out a
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