Page 8

Chapter Eight

Gram was about to head into his cabin when a red kickball rolled to him from the left. It came to a stop at his feet.

Closing his eyes, he did his best to shake off the hallucination. It shouldn’t have happened. He’d been off the meds long enough. Yet the damn red ball was back, and it was apparently following him.

He opened his eyes, expecting it to be gone. It wasn’t. There it was, next to his foot. It took him a second to realize it was actually touching his foot.

Bending, he grimaced and then poked the ball. It didn’t disappear. It was solid, something it had never been before. It rolled slightly with his touch.

Gasping, Gram grabbed the ball, lifting it, wondering where it had come from and if others could see it as well or if his mind had finally snapped fully.

Just then, a little girl who looked to be around the age of three or four came from a small opening in the trees and plants. She had on an all-white dress with white ribbons in her dark brown hair. She looked up at him with huge hazel eyes.

Instantly, he thought of Bethany. She was around the same age. Was he now hallucinating children? Had his mind invented a child to compensate for the one he felt as if he’d lost?

Gram bent again, despite the pain in his leg and back. He held the ball out to the little girl, wondering if she was real or a figment of his imagination. “Here you go, lass. Is this yer ball?”

She nodded. With a tentative step, she eased toward him, watching him closely before smiling wide. “Hello. I’m Andie.”

“Andie is a verra pretty name. I’m Gram.”

“I know.” She touched his arm, and Gram knew then she was real, not a hallucination.

“You do?” he asked.

She nodded again and then tipped her head. “Your voice is different.”

“Aye, my voice is different,” he returned, unable to hide his smile. “Have you heard of Scotland?”

She shook her head.

“’Tis far from here.”

“Are you from there? From far from here?” she asked, dancing on one foot.

Gram had seen such a dance before. It was the potty dance. There was no way in hell he was taking a child he didn’t know to a bathroom. Nothing screamed stranger danger and life behind bars more than taking someone’s kid to a bathroom, alone.

“Li’l one, where is yer mother?” he asked.

She frowned. “In the ground.”

Her mother had passed?

“I’m sorry, lass. Have you an adult you answer to?”

“I have a sister. Is that what you mean? She’s bigger than me.”

It wasn’t but he nodded all the same. “Aye. Yer sister. Is she close? I’m guessing she’s worried about you.”

She tugged at her lower lip and then glanced in the direction of the path she’d come from. “He made me go away. And he threw my ball.”

“Who did?” asked Gram, still holding the red ball while he remained bent. His leg and back screamed in protest but he ignored the pain, his concern for the child outweighing it. He’d seen the very ball she had been playing with in his visions. That was no coincidence.

He had been alive far too long and had seen too many strange things to ignore the signs. He was supposed to help the child. He knew it deep in his bones. While the facility was secure, it was also full of supernaturals. He didn’t want to think any of them would ever harm a child, but he’d seen far too much in his long life to put it past them.

“Taggert. He’s with Amelia now, by the river.” She eased forward more and touched the ball, meeting his gaze full on. “Can you help her?”

“Who? Yer sister?”

She nodded and leaned more, putting a hand up to her mouth as she lowered her voice to whisper to him. “Taggert is mean. He scares Amelia, but I’m not supposed to know that. She told me no when I wanted to help. Can you help her?”

“Aye,” he said, handing her the ball. “Is she that way?”

She pointed to the path. “Yes. She’s that way. Mr. Gram, don’t tell no one I told you, okay?”

“Aye.” He stood slowly and touched Andie’s head. “Lass, is there somewhere safe you can go while I check on yer sister?”

“Yes.”

“Go there now.”

She went to the door of his cabin.

He tensed. “Lass, I do nae think yer sister would want you going into a place where you do nae know the man staying there. You should go to the main building.”

“I’m not ever allowed to go into the main building.” She smiled at him but opened the door all the same. “Here is safe. Here is good. I knew you’d come.”

He stiffened. “What?”

“We all knew you’d come,” she returned.

“Lass?”

“But he’s wrong about you.”

“Who?” asked Gram.

“My father. Help Amelia.” She smiled up at him.

If she was worried for her sister, he’d check on the other little one. It was probably nothing, but he’d look into it to be sure. And then he’d get to the bottom of the red ball and her cryptic words. Was the child gifted in the art of magik? If so, had she somehow tapped into his mind, seeing his hallucinations and manifesting one? It wasn’t an easy task but there were some supernaturals who could do such a thing.

Another thought occurred.

What if he’d been shown the red ball before arriving so, when he did meet Andie, he’d know for sure he was supposed to assist her?

No matter the reason, she’d asked for his help and he’d give it.

“Lass, yer welcome to use the toilet when yer in there,” he said.

She smiled even wider. “Good. I gotta go.”

He hid his laugh as he went to the path and followed it. Since the path wasn’t paved like the other, it took him more time than he’d have liked in his current condition. As it opened to a large grassy area, near a river, he instantly felt as if he’d been hit with a bat.

He stumbled but managed to remain upright despite the wall of magik he’d just passed through. Whoever had created it was powerful. It was meant to keep others out. To repel them. Had he been a lesser supernatural, it might very well have done that. As it stood, it wasn’t pleasant, but he’d survived worse.

He came out of the brush fully—and his breath caught.

There, near the river’s edge, was the very same woman he’d been having visions of.

The woman in white.

Her long, dark brown hair hung to her slender waist. For the first time, he got a really good look at her face, and for a second, he forgot to draw in air.

Never had he seen a woman as beautiful as her.

In that second, every bit of sorrow and pity he’d been feeling for himself over having loved and lost faded away. The constant pain that had racked his body dissipated. All that remained was the sight of the woman before him.

The beauty all in white.

His wolf came to life, stirring in him, wanting out. It wanted a better look at her, too. He sniffed the air, and the scent of honeysuckle came to him with light undertones of vanilla. His gaze locked on the woman. She was the source of the smell. He knew it with every fiber of his being.

She’s real.

He finally took a moment to study the man with her. Said man was crowding her space, backing her in the direction of the river. Fear pulsed from her, finding Gram, making him want to kill something.

Anything.

He narrowed his gaze on the male. He’d do nicely.