Vision (9 page)

I thought about the mystery email, and how it
mentioned Bane being attracted to Clears. Andre had been really
attracted to me, scary attracted, and Sarah may have been murdered
for the same reasons.

Tingles flushed down my limbs.

More bumps erupted when I looked down at my
lion dragon guardian charm. Sarah mentioned Jonathan was her
guardian. Was the charm a clue I had one too?

“I need some damn answers people!”

Luckily, I think the waves drowned out the
impromptu scream. But I really did need some answers.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When I returned to the house, there was a
note from Abbey saying she needed to travel unexpectedly to the
mainland overnight.

Layla, the pampered guest was now alone –
again – on an isolated island.

Leaving extensive instructions, keys, and
other amenities, she urged me to make myself at home. My return
flight to England left early the next day, and now I had no ride to
the ferry dock, although Abbey did leave me several numbers of
neighbors to contact saying it would be ‘no trouble’ for anyone to
help me.

Super, considering how I just loved
approaching total strangers asking for favors.

I called the airlines for earlier flights but
there were none.

The thought of spending the night by myself
was somewhat daunting, but there was no way to leave the island
sooner. By four it was dark. After nibbling leftovers, checking the
locks and selecting a movie from her DVD library it seemed logical
to stay on the sofa for the night, nonchalantly drifting off while
the movie played and the house lights burned.

So that’s what I did before it arrived.

Thump, thump, thump.

The vibration shook the house and forced my
dry, drowsy eyes open.

The blue DVD clock illuminated 2:13 AM.

Thump, thump, thump.

Something was outside knocking around, maybe
a raccoon.

I couldn’t pick up anything – read what it
might be, which was super irritating.

Abbey’s house, as all houses on Colonsay,
were spread a good distance apart. Neighbors didn’t visit at two in
the morning, although I wasn’t familiar with the locals and their
habits.

A louder, thump, thump, thump.

It came from the back of the house, down the
hall in the direction of the guest room. The decision to doze on
the sofa has been solid after all. Plus, the conveniently located
fireplace poker might come in handy, what the heck. I gently lifted
it out of the rack, thinking I was either silly or smart to grab a
weapon.

I crept slowly down the hall toward the guest
suite, the moon shone round and bright through the French doors,
illuminating the room with soft light. Looking out the glass
through the French doors, the only visible movement was caused by
wind swaying leaves on the trees outside.

Slowly moving toward the doors seemed to
exacerbate the strength of the gale, and as if in response to my
movement, one side of the double doors flew open.

I knew damn well I had locked every door and
window.

You can’t rule out anything when you’re a
Clear, so I politely and respectfully addressed the noise by
pushing a whisper from my throat. “Is someone there?” But my voice
was swallowed by the air and the crashing waves in the near
distance.

Okay, Layla, think rationally. 1. Only those
you implicitly trust know you’re here. 2. You were not followed. 3.
The only other people with you on the ferry coming over were seven
island residents who had shopped on the mainland. 4. There were no
tourists. 5. It was winter and cold – too frigid for animals to
wander around, unless perhaps they were seeking warmth or
shelter.

Suddenly a strong, magnetic force pulled me
out the now open door making any resistance futile. It was like
losing at tug-of-war without the rope.

Then it dawned on me. Sarah wrote, ‘I will
find my way to her when she arrives.’

She was coming, or rather, she was already
here.

The air stilled as if someone simply flipped
the switch to off. Time froze, floated really. It was very
disorienting and I was unsure how to define reality again.

It would be defined for me.

At first there were voices in the distant,
growing closer, and bickering – a man and woman. Where were they? I
looked around, not remembering how I came to stand near the cliff
edge.

I turned around and there they stood, behind
me from where I faced the ocean, arguing about something, perhaps a
married couple, standing toe to toe in the open grass. They didn’t
notice me.

My eyes narrowed to focus in the dark as I
cautiously approached, the only light a full moon over the shoulder
of the woman – the glow enveloping her frame like a divine being,
reflecting off her long curls. The man was dressed in a kilt and
boots, his long unkempt black hair matted and sticky against his
bare back, pale blue eyes beating down on her. No question this was
the brute that starred in my nightmares.

I had officially crossed time zones.

This wasn’t a dream, unless I was
sleepwalking.

He held her wrists firmly in place, pleading
with her, desperately begging for something. Moving in closer,
slowly, I spoke. “Hello?”

No response. They clearly didn’t see me or
were distracted within their heated discussion. Inching forward I
tried again. “Hi, I’m Layla. Is there a problem?” They ignored me,
continuing their conflict. Evidently I only existed as an
observer.

The woman’s voice escalated in anger.
“Wilbur, please stop! Ye behave like a damn fool. Let me go!”

“I can not let you go Sarah because I love
ye.”

“Arse! Yes ye CAN let me go! I do not love ye
Wilbur. I love Jonathan! For god’s sake we’re both married.”

His name is Wilbur! Wilbur loved Sarah – it
was jealousy. Whoever sent the email knew somehow.

Answers were staring me in the face – how was
I missing so much?

“Jonathan is a weak man. He can’t love ya
like I can! Love me Sarah damn ye to hell!” He tightened his grip,
yanking at her arms in rage.

Sarah gritted her teeth, leaned into Wilbur,
lowering her voice to a growl. “You listen to me Wilbur MacDonald.
I will never love ye, ya hear? Now get back to your wife’s bed you
disgusting pig!” She spat in his face.

Wilbur MacDonald. So this was the beginning
of the MacDonald’s taking over the island. Stuart knew about it.
How?

He stepped back, wiped her saliva off his
cheek with his grimy fingers, glaring with his monster eyes; a look
so full of hate and revenge I shivered with terror. He spoke in a
low, vengeful tone. “Here me now Sarah MacPhie! You shall pay for
this, with your breath, and with the breath of that fool husband of
yours. Aye, I’ll make sure you pay for not doin’ my will,” he
hissed.

Sarah stood her ground, defiant and
challenging, standing on tiptoes to gain height. “Do not threaten
me or I’ll surely curse each blade of grass your feet step on from
here to eternity.” Sarah pivoted then ran toward Abbey’s house,
which for the moment was otherwise occupied by really old
poltergeists, my relatives. As she walked, her frame faded into
nothing, like a hologram, until all I could make out were the house
lights where I stood frightened moments ago, although I couldn’t be
sure how much time passed now. The whole reenactment left me
disoriented in the time and space continuum. I shivered not from
the cold, but from the unknown.

Wilbur had also vanished, the hostile scene
dissipating like vapor, as if it never happened. The ocean was now
quiet. Everything was back to normal. Sarah had shown me the
truth.

It was over.

Lights flashed across the sky again. Looking
up, the stars shone brilliantly, the moon still in its place, the
sky was clear, so that ruled out lightening.

Turning around, I saw the group of men
approach, Wilbur in front. They all carried torches to light the
way. I dropped to my stomach and hoped they didn’t spot me. There
was no way to tell if I was still transparent from one moment to
the next so I waited.

The mob stopped a few yards away. I could
run, but it didn’t seem worth the risk. From where I was, they
couldn’t see me and I could hear clearly enough.

They were drunk, reeking of foul smelling
alcohol, grainy and pungent. They tried to keep their voices down,
but only managed a loud, intoxicated whisper. Wilbur was on a rant.
“She’s a witch I tell ya! Seen it with me own eyes. That devil
vexed me so I’d lust for her, begging me to be untrue to my sweet
Mary.”

What a liar!

Someone else spoke. “Wilbur, everyone knows
ya love Sarah except for that blind wife of yours!” With that, the
men burst out laughing, but Wilbur wasn’t finished making his
point. “What about the weather predictions, and birthin’ babies
with no screamin, everyone drinking her concoctions like she’s
holding them in a trance?”

Another man spoke. “For god’s sakes Wilbur,
she’s a healer. She knows a bit of medicine. So what? She’s helped
all of us, our children…” The laughter had turned into an attempt
at reason, but Wilbur was blinded by revenge, stopping at nothing
to stir his evil intent into a fear-frenzy.

Wilbur scanned the group. “Never mind ya
buffoons. I’ll do it me own damn self.” He paused for dramatic
effect to see if his words stirred up a reaction.

This was the turning point that could have
saved Sarah and Jonathan. Wilbur was outnumbered and could have
been stopped, as with other cruel rulers through time, if the
people let dictators rule then rule they will. But unless my
visions had been false the outcome was already history. The other
men were clearly cowards in the presence of his perceived
power.

“Ah nah, you won’t do it yourself.” Someone
responded, resigning on behalf of the others. “Tell us what to
do.”

Wilbur puffed up his chest. “Do ya agree
Sarah MacPhie is a witch?” The mob hesitantly nodded fearing their
leader more than the injustice of the horrendous act they would
carry out, sealing the fate of my ancestors.

“Then she and her devil soul will perish this
time tomorrow.” He sealed her fate as easily as suggesting ham for
dinner.

“Without a trial?” Someone asked? “We can’t
just murder the woman.”

Wilbur sneered. “It ain’t murder if it’s
recorded as something else. We make the rules here and we say she’s
a witch!”

One previously silent man stepped forward.
“But Wilbur – Sarah is with child. Jonathan and she…”

“What did ya say?” Wilbur whipped around to
glare at the man who delivered the news.

“Sarah’s with child, didn’t ya know?”

Apparently this was news to Wilbur.

He grabbed the ear of the poor messenger
trying to plead Sarah’s mercy, hissing through his teeth. “Then we
kill them all.”

It was all I could stand. “No! No!” I
shouted. “Please don’t kill her. She’s not what you think.”
Collapsing to my knees, I began to sob into my hands, feeling
helpless, in the wrong century, a mute with no voice.

Someone gently touched my shoulder from
behind. When I looked up, the men were gone but Sarah stood behind
me, breathtaking in flowing white energy. Was I really this pretty?
Is this how Stuart saw me? Her serene features spilled over with
grace, wisdom. She smiled widely at me, comforting, as if to say
this was all in the past now.

Following the gaze of her eyes she beamed
past me into the distance to Abbey’s house.

It was then I saw what she wanted me to see.
Sarah, now both behind me and under the tree burying the urn, as if
to prove the truth behind the letter. She wore her nightdress, hair
uncombed.

The Sarah behind me opened her mouth, trying
to speak words. Can apparitions speak? This was all new to me. She
mouth struggled to form shapes to form sounds, closing her eyes as
if to concentrate. Staring intently, clearing my mind, I waited to
receive her message. How I longed to hear her voice, just once, to
make this real. “Tell me Sarah. We’ve come this far.” Yearning for
her to know I wasn’t afraid, I remained still and focused. Moving
closer, I made sure my ear was almost touching her mouth, so she
wouldn’t need to project too far.

As if a door opened up for only an instant,
her voice echoed like strings from the low tones of a harp,
reverberating in song. She pointed to my heart, “You…” then pointed
to hers, “are me.”

My tear ducts were swelling, spilling over as
my chest heaved. The emotion of the moment was overwhelming, and I
craved to hear more – but that was not to be. “What do you mean,
exactly?”

But I understood we couldn’t converse more.
Talking from the spirit realm wasn’t be easy, and she had struggled
to speak the three words she managed to push out.

Quickly drawing my attention away again, she
nodded toward the angry mob coming into view. “Um, are we just
watching?” I asked. Sarah nodded. “Good, because this needs to be
the last show tonight. Seriously. This has been going on for a
super long time and…”

Her finger pressed against her lips to
silence me. She wanted me to see the rest of this play out, and I
was beginning to suspect masochistic tendencies resided in my
ancestors. “Sarah, no, I can’t. Please, not again!”

Last time, Layla. I heard her internal
voice.

Promises, promises, I returned.

She gestured for me to stand and move toward
the men so I could hear. Walking toward the commotion, reenactment
Sarah emerged from the darkness wearing the exact dress as in my
dreams – pale blue. Up close, I could see small areas of wear and
light stains. Spirit Sarah who had been hanging out with me was
gone. Reenactment Sarah made firm determined steps toward the man
gang, planting her feet defiantly after each long stride.

She was steadfast, unbreakable in spirit,
phenomenal. I was not going to be prey, just a time traveler sent
to observe. So I resigned to watch the finale, to drive the outcome
even further into my bone marrow.