“No.”

It was the first and only word he’d said to me since reaching his place. The moment we walked through the doors of his townhome, I spilled my guts to him, trying to end things as quickly as possible so that I could retreat and do my best to never think about the entire situation again.

I stared back at him incredulously. I was sobbing. My face was red. My voice was shaking. I felt sick with every word. He was sitting back on the couch with his arms crossed, his jaw tight, looking totally unreadable.

“What do you mean “no”?”

“I mean no. I don’t accept your breakup.” He stood and threw his hands up in exasperation. “This is crazy, Kate. Things were fine just a few days ago.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I’d been doing such a fantastic job of ignoring my feelings about everything that I couldn’t say one way or another whether things had been good. They certainly hadn’t been bad, but did that necessarily mean they were good?

“Were they?”

He stared at me as if I’d just sprouted another head.

“Yes, Kate. Things were good. You were thinking about moving in with me. We saw each other almost every day. Your mother loves me.”

“My mother doesn’t know you.”

He stopped storming around the room and crossed his arms as he glared at me.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Kate? That if she did know me, she wouldn’t like me? Like you don’t like me all of a sudden?”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all. I just mean that the two of you have spent very little time together, is all. And I do like you. I just…” I hesitated, unsure if I should finish with the first thing that popped in my mind. It was thoughtless and hurtful, but deep down I knew it was true. “I don’t want you.”

Something flickered in his eyes, and he looked like he’d been punched in the gut. Tears welled up in my own eyes again. It wasn’t fair for me to be so upset, but I hated hurting him.

“You don’t mean that. There’s never been anything that you’ve ever said or done that fits with that story.”

“Dillon.” I reached for his hand and pulled him down to the sofa. “Since the fire…I don’t think I’ve stopped long enough to let myself think about what I want. Some things have happened recently that made me stop and reflect on everything, and I just don’t believe that what we have is enough.”

“What things?” The muscles in his jaw were bulging now. He was angry, and he didn’t want me to see just how much.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He exploded off the couch and began pacing the room.

“For Christ’s sake, Kate, you owe me more of an explanation than this. I was going to marry you. You were it for me. Babe…” He suddenly dropped to his knees and buried his head in my lap. “I love you. You can’t just end this and walk out like the last year didn’t happen.”

With a lump in my throat and tears streaming down my face, I pushed him away and stood. “I love you too, but I don’t think either one of us loves the other like we should. There’s no passion here; we’re not crazy about each other.”

He huffed and shook his head in dismissal. “Give me a break, Kate. Shit like that means nothing. This makes sense.” He motioned between us. “We make sense.”

He reached for me again, but I stepped away.

“I’m sorry, Dillon. The last thing I ever want to do is look back on my life and say it made sense. I want so much more than that.”

My back was toward him as I reached the door, and he let out one low and angry chuckle.

“Good luck with that, Kate. Do you really think men will be knocking down your door now? Maybe a few years ago they would have, but not anymore. You’re too damaged. You’ve got way more baggage than anybody’s going to want to deal with.”

I nearly dropped to the floor from the impact of his words. I’d known Dillon for years and never had he said anything so harsh to me. The one thing he knew would hurt me the most, the one worry I’d never spoken out loud, he’d vocalized. I could barely reconcile the fact that such cruel words had come from his mouth.

I wouldn’t turn around and face him again. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let him know how much his words had hurt me.

“Then I’d rather be alone.”

I barely made it around the corner before I collapsed into the side of the nearest building and wept.

---

Thankfully, Mom still wasn’t back by the time I made it to Laurel’s apartment. I was able to lock myself inside my room and collect myself. It didn’t take long. As hurtful as Dillon’s words to me were, my therapist was right—I was a master at distraction. The fire had made that a necessity. When the pain got to be too much, or in truth, if any feeling got too strong, I could quickly tuck it away in some back corner of my mind where I didn’t have to think about it by focusing on something outside myself.

I didn’t have to look hard for something else to focus on either. Shortly after I closed the door to my room and gathered up Mr. Crinkles in my arm, my phone rang. I knew right away that it had to be Laurel from the lack of number on my phone.

“Hello?”

“Kate, it’s me. Step into a room that Mom isn’t in, okay?”

“No worries. Mom’s not here. Oh my God, Laurel, it’s so good to hear your voice!” I almost went straight into talking about all the research I’d done, but then I remembered Morna’s directive that I not let Laurel know I’d spoken with her—which meant I shouldn’t already know for certain that she was in the past. “You’re okay? You’re safe? Are you really…are you really in the past?” I could picture her leaning against some massive wooden door inside a creaky old castle. It made me tremble with excitement.

“Yes, yes, and yes. I’m okay. I’m safe. And I’m speaking to you from the year sixteen hundred and fifty-one.”

I listened to her speak and peppered her with questions pertaining to the research I’d done. I was thrilled to hear that she was indeed at The Castle of Eight Lairds rather than at Conall Castle. While I’m sure Conall Castle was amazing, I’d devoted all of my research to the Isle and the strange legends surrounding it.

It was clear early on in our phone call that my sleepless nights of research had been well worth it. There were many things I knew more about than Laurel did. Laurel was, after all, living it. I was looking at it in retrospect. It was like being a fortune teller. Although, rather than telling someone else’s future, I was looking into my own.

Laurel nearly croaked when I told her of my plan to go back with Mom and David. I heard the almost-reprimand in her voice when I confessed to being unable to really afford our plane tickets, but thankfully, she withheld her sisterly concern.

The more I talked, the more Laurel settled in. It gladdened me more than she could possibly know that I was able to be useful, even separated by so many centuries.

“The documentary told us about the legend, right—about The Eight and how they were bound to protect the Isle from the darkness that would threaten it if The Eight were ever broken? The book is much more specific. According to this text, the evil mentioned in the documentary is a faerie. While she may gain strength, she poses no real threat with just seven men.”

I paused as Laurel interrupted. When she confirmed that the documentary was correct—that the evil on the Isle was indeed a faerie named Machara—I could’ve danced around the room in excitement. Not that I was excited that my sister was in such imminent danger, but I couldn’t deny being excited to learn that such mystical creatures did indeed exist.

I went on to explain to Laurel that according to my research, six is the magic number. If The Eight lose two men without replacing one, the faerie bound by their magic would be able to break free from her prison.

“So, the book alludes to a prophecy given to Machara by her father as punishment for something she’d done to anger him. It doesn’t say what. He claimed that a time would come in Machara’s life when she would be chained by the magic of men, but her life would end at the hands of mortal women.”

It was nine mortal women to be exact, and I told Laurel this. Laurel’s tone sounded worried any time she spoke. The more we talked, the more real everything seemed. This wasn’t just a story. It was her life. It was my life. And if my sister’s inclination to stay there was any indication, it was the life of the man she loved, as well.

“Okay, Kate, does it say anything about these women? Who are they?”

“That’s where you come in, Laurel. You’re one of them, and I’m pretty sure, so am I.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Laurel responded. “Explain.”

“Your name isn’t mentioned specifically. It only refers to a Laird Allen’s wife. It says that Laird Allen’s wife is the first of the nine women who will ultimately destroy Machara, but that each woman will be tested in her own time and in her own way.”

She asked the most obvious question next. “How do you know that you’re one of them?”

“It wasn’t even in the main text of the book. It doesn’t go into detail about the nine women, but there was an author footnote at the bottom of one of the pages.” I paused and almost stood to go and grab the book, but then decided against moving away from the door. I wanted to be able to block entry into the room. “I don’t remember the exact wording, but it said something along the lines of: Little is known of the women who lifted the castle’s curse, though two of the nine were believed to be sisters, both blonde of hair and blue of eyes, though one had suffered much at the hands of a fire.”

I sat patiently in the silence that followed as I allowed Laurel to process everything.

She agreed with what I already suspected—that Morna had added the footnote to give me a clue that I was supposed to go back, as well.

We chatted for some time, and I told her what I’d read of the druid who’d fallen in with a fae and how he was said to have died as a result. Laurel said his name was Calder and that while he was not yet dead, she could see things ending in no other way for him.

“Laurel, I hope for your sake that Calder stays away. If he returns, I’m not sure there’s much you’ll be able to do to stop him from giving you to Machara.”

Laurel’s voice was small and frightened when she answered. “I know.”

She was frightened. Before my conversation with Morna, I would’ve told her not to worry—that she had history on her side—but now, I was as scared as she was.

“Listen to me, Laurel. You can beat her if you’re forced to face her. You’re the smartest person I know. You’re so much stronger than you think.”

I heard her take a deep breath, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap her in a hug.

“Thank you, Kate. I need to go. I don’t know if I’ll be able to call for awhile. There’s a lot I need to sort through here.”

I nodded as if she could see me. “I know. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay?”

At that, Laurel spoke up. I could hear the smile in her tone. “About that. I can’t believe I almost forgot. Listen, you don’t have to look for Morna. I made a friend, another modern lady sent back in time by Morna. She lives at Cagair Castle, and they have their own portal. She says it’s far easier to travel back through it than by Morna’s magic. She told me that if I ever have anyone that needs to come through to send them there. She and her husband will escort you guys all the way to the Isle when you arrive.”

“Are you serious?” I tried to feign surprise at her suggestion.

“Yes. Her name is Sydney. Just ask for her when you get there. I believe the other woman’s name is Gillian. They will know what to do.”

I could hear some shuffling from the other end of the phone, and I could sense that Laurel needed to go.

“Laurel, take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will. You too, Kate. I love you.”

After relaying my own love for her, I hung up the phone, and curled up into a ball beneath my blankets in the hopes the warmth would stop me from shaking from both a wounded heart and fear for my sister.