The Deepest Cut, (MacKinnon Curse series, book 1) Read online

The Deepest Cut

  by

  J.A. Templeton

  The Deepest Cut: a MacKinnon Curse novel by J. A. Templeton

  Copyright 2011 © Julia Templeton

  ISBN-13: 9780983736714

  1. Psychic ability-Fiction 2. Ghosts-Fiction 3. Self-Mutiliation-Fiction 4. Love-Fiction 5. Supernatural-Fiction 6. Scotland-Fiction

  This book is a work of fiction. Characters and events portrayed in this book are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Cover Illustration by Kimberly Killion

  Photograph by Caroline Zenker

  To Korie Nicole—

  Your strength and courage inspires me.

  I’m so proud to be your Mom.

  Chapter 1

  My shrink told me moving would be good for me. I couldn’t see how leaving behind everything I knew could make my life better. Then again, could things seriously get worse?

  “Come on, Riley, it won’t be so bad,” my dad said, fake smile in place as he slid the key into the lock of the ridiculously huge front door. The old brick inn with ivy clinging to its walls looked like something straight out of a horror movie, and I counted nine chimneys which told me it had been built long before electricity had come into use.

  Great. I could hardly wait to see the inside.

  With a grunt, my dad pushed the door open and the iron hinges gave a loud creak.

  I so didn’t want to be here.

  The enormous chandelier overhead stirred, sending a creepy tune through the inn I now called home. There was dark wood on every wall, and a chunky staircase took up the better part of the entry. My mom would have loved it here, I thought, my heart squeezing. She had always talked about moving to the country.

  Shane, my little brother, pushed past me into the large entryway. He had barely looked at me in weeks. His jaw was clenched tight as he dropped his bag on the wood floor. I could hear the music blaring from his iPod from where I stood five feet away, and as I watched him, he turned it up even louder.

  Like blowing out his eardrums would change the fact we’d moved over four thousand miles away from the only home we’d ever known.

  I understood why he was pissed off. I mean, I was the reason we had moved from an upscale house in Portland’s upper west side, to this bone-chilling pile of crap in the middle of nowhere Scotland.

  Shane removed his headphones and sighed in disgust. “How old is this place?”

  “A few centuries,” our father replied, searching for a light switch.

  “Centuries,” I said, an involuntary shudder rushing through my body. Our house in Portland had been built when I was a baby and my mom had renovated five years ago saying everything was out-of-date. This place would need an overhaul.

  “Centuries—that’s like hundreds of years,” Shane said, shutting the door behind him.

  Dad flipped the light on and turned to us, grin still in place. “Yeah, it is. Just think of the history here.”

  More like just think of the ghosts. And a place like this would have plenty of spirits, which is what terrified me––because I can see the dead, and have been able to for a little over a year now—since I was fifteen, when I woke up after a car wreck that had killed my mom. I’d discovered my new “gift” when I was still in the hospital recovering from my injuries. I asked my dad about the old man in a hospital gown, who walked up and down the hallway…and straight through walls. I’ll never forget the look on his face. The very next day a psychiatrist diagnosed me with a syndrome that had a fancy name, which basically meant he thought I was certifiably crazy. He then wrote out two prescriptions for drugs that made me numb. I couldn’t feel anything—except for the pain. Nothing could take away the pain. I missed my mom and I couldn’t understand why I could see other spirits, but I couldn’t see her.

  In fact, I still can’t understand why my mom hasn’t “visited” me.

  “I got a great deal on the place,” Dad said, breaking into my thoughts.

  “I bet you did,” Shane said. “They probably saw you coming.”

  Dad shrugged off the smart-ass comment. “Yeah, it’s big, but I wanted a place large enough to store the computer equipment, have an office, and still have room for each of us to do our own thing. Maybe we’ll be able to rent out the other rooms to people passing through.”

  Shane looked at Dad like he’d lost his mind. “You’ve gotta be shitting me?”

  “Watch your mouth, Shane,” Dad said, setting his briefcase on a side table that used to be in our dining room back home. Despite the fact I was surrounded by familiar furniture, I felt like I was on another planet.

  “You said we were moving near a city,” Shane said, tucking his skateboard under his arm. “We’re at least an hour away from any city.”

  Dad’s eyes got all squinty—something that happened right before he lost it. “Aberdeen is only forty––or so––minutes away.”

  “It might as well be five hours for all we’ll see of it. We’re in the middle of frickin’ nowhere.” Shane ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “What are we supposed to do for fun?”

  My fingernails dug into my palms. I hated when they fought, which seemed to be more often of late. The constant bitching was annoying and downright depressing.

  “You’ll find other kids to hang out with.” Dad’s voice held a slight edge to it. “I’m sure they’ve heard of skateboarding over here.”

  “If I had my way—”

  “Shane, this is our home…for now,” Dad snapped before releasing a breath. “Let’s try to make the most of it.”

  At least he’d added the ‘for now’ bit. I could barely wrap my brain around the fact this big, drafty inn was going to be home for a while, let alone forever.

  Shane walked into the parlor, dropped his skateboard on the couch and stared out the window. “Mom would never have moved us halfway around the world.”

  I didn’t hear my dad’s reply, because suddenly the hair on my arms stood on end. I straightened. I knew the old inn would be full of ghosts.

  Maybe this time it would be my mom.

  With my heart racing nearly out of my chest, I turned my head and could see the spirit standing just off the entry—a tall figure lingering in the shadows. Disappointment washed over me. It was a man, not a woman.

  Not my mom.

  I knew better than to make eye contact. Once I did, the spirit never left me alone.

  “Why couldn’t you have waited to take this new job until we graduated?” Shane asked. “I wish I were eighteen. I’d be so out of here.”

  A nerve in Dad’s jaw jumped. “But you’re fifteen, Shane, not eighteen. You’ll just have to tough it out with me for three more years.”

  Shane glanced over at me, anger brimming in his blue eyes. There had been a time we’d been close, but after Mom died everything had changed, and now I felt the distance more than ever.

  I cleared my throat. “Dad, where’s my room?”

  “Up the stairs, take a right, first door on the left. Shane, your room is at the top of the stairs, take a left, and it’s the first right.”

  Anxious to be alone, I headed up the creaky stairs to hide away in my room, praying the ghost didn’t follow.

  “Nice, Shane. You know what your sister’s been through.”

  “I lost my mom, too,” Shane said defensively.
“Just because I wasn’t in the car with her when she died…”

  I blocked out their voices and resisted the urge to take the steps two at a time.

  Shane followed behind me, the ghost fast on his heels.

  Forcing myself to remain calm, I took a right at the top of the steps, then pushed open the first door on the left.

  I wrinkled my nose. The room, filled with my familiar furniture, was huge and smelled musty. There was a large window covered by heinous gold velvet drapes that might just be as ancient as the inn itself. I noticed two doors, one leading to a closet, and the other to my very own attached bathroom. Pleasantly surprised, I opened the door. There was a pedestal sink with a mirrored medicine cabinet above it, and a tub/shower with a basic white shower curtain hanging from silver loops.

  Though the bathroom wasn’t huge by any means, it was mine, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to venture into the hallway at night to use the bathroom.

  I crossed the room and looked out the only window to find I had a perfect view of a reddish stone castle sitting on a grassy knoll surrounded by tall trees. It wasn’t a Cinderella castle by any means, but there were elements of the whimsical about it with its turrets and spires, and yet something oddly menacing too. Dark and depressing—kind of like my life.

  I caught my reflection in the glass and was shocked at the circles beneath my green eyes. My cheeks even looked hollowed out from all the weight I had lost this past year. I looked fragile, and even more, I felt fragile.

  Loud music boomed from next door, startling me. Dad yelled at Shane to turn it down, and of course, he only turned the music up louder.

  I leaned against the windowsill, my forehead resting against the cool glass. My gaze shifted to the castle again. There was something about that castle that both repelled and intrigued me––almost like it called out to me.

  The air around me suddenly turned cold, and I felt someone standing behind me. It’s a sensation I’ll never get used to, and I feared turning around, afraid of what—or rather who—I would find. I felt an odd burning in my chest, and I could barely breathe, like something was stuck in my throat. From the time I saw that first ghost, I learned that I could physically feel what they had at the time of their death. The sensation usually lasted only seconds, but that was long enough for me to get the general idea of how they passed. I couldn’t tell if this guy had been strangled or what…but the pain grew more intense and a wave of nausea hit me.

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I said my brother’s name out loud, knowing full well he wouldn’t hear me over the pounding bass that even now vibrated the floor beneath my feet.

  An icy hand touched my shoulder. I closed my eyes, willing the spirit to go away.

  It didn’t.

  I turned my head to the left just the slightest bit, and saw a guy standing directly behind me. He appeared to be a little older than me, with shiny dark hair that brushed his broad shoulders. Though I wanted to look him straight in the eye, I didn’t. I couldn’t let on that I could see him. “Shane,” I yelled, louder this time.

  I had only befriended one other ghost in the hope she’d help bring my mom around. It had been the biggest mistake of my life. The old woman had hounded me nearly every waking hour until finally I ignored her, pretending to no longer hear or see her. It worked, even if it took weeks for her to realize as much. She never bothered me again.

  My bedroom door whipped open abruptly and the spirit disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. “What’s wrong?” my dad asked, concern in his eyes. I knew that look. That oh my God, my daughter’s losing her mind expression. The same expression he’d had when I told him I could see ghosts. I couldn’t tell him the truth, especially since I’d lied and told him months ago that I didn’t see spirits anymore.

  I brushed a trembling hand through my hair. “Nothing.”

  “You’re so pale.” He walked over to me and pressed his palm against my forehead. It felt strange to have him touch me. I had pulled away from him so much, both mentally and physically these past months, and yet a huge part of me wanted to bury my face in his chest and tell him how much I needed him. How sorry I was that I had changed all of our lives. How much I wanted to go home.

  “It doesn’t feel like you have a fever,” he said, his hand dropping back to his side.

  “I just have a headache.”

  “You need an aspirin?”

  I shook my head. “No, I just need a nap.”

  “I’ll tell Shane to turn that racket down.”

  “No, don’t. He’s already mad at me…and I don’t blame him.”

  His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Dad, I know I’m the reason we moved to Scotland. All the trouble I’ve—”

  “Riley,” he said, lifting my chin with gentle fingers. His eyes were sad, and I know he missed the relationship we had once shared. “I accepted this job because it was an opportunity of a lifetime, and I felt this move would be good for all of us, your brother included. He wasn’t exactly hanging out with a good group of kids back home.”

  When I didn’t respond, he sighed heavily. “I just want us all to be happy, hon. I think we can be…if given the chance.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that being happy would require bringing Mom back.

  “So, what do you think of your room?” He had a hopeful expression on his face. I’d noticed on the trip here that, like me, he had lost weight, his pants now hanging off his thin frame. Even his face looked haggard, and his once sandy-blonde hair had turned gray at the temples. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he was grieving just as much as I was.

  “I like it, especially the bathroom.”

  He grinned. “Nice, huh? Every bedroom has one. I suppose that’s one of the perks of buying an inn.” As an awkward silence followed, he checked his watch. “Well, I’ve got to get going. I called Miss Akin and she said she’d be here in about ten minutes.”

  Miss Akin was the babysitter/housekeeper/cook Dad had hired to keep an eye on Shane and me while he was working fifteen hour days. “Dad, we’re old enough to take care of ourselves.”

  His brows rose nearly to his hairline. “I’ll be working long hours and I don’t want the two of you to be alone. Plus, it’s Miss Akin’s job to take care of the place. I want you focusing on being a kid.”

  I had high hopes that Miss Akin, hence the Miss, would be a young, hip twenty-something punk rock Scottish chick who would breathe new life into this place, but with my luck, she’d be an old spinster who would make my life even more unbearable.

  As he headed for the door, I asked, “When will you be home?”

  He checked his watch again. “Not too late.”

  Not too late meant we’d most likely see him tomorrow.