Chapter Forty-Nine
The stinging hot water pelting against her flesh failed to wash away the worries. Emma plunged her face beneath the showerhead. Maybe if the steaming deluge scored a direct hit, the pounding droplets would cleanse her mind. A flushing sound alerted her seconds before the water shifted to scalding level. Twisting the handle just in time, Emma jumped to the side, out of reach of the fiery stream. “Dammit, Laynie! Why do you always flush the toilet when I’m in the shower?”
The wooden lid of the toilet seat clunked, followed by Laynie’s evil giggle. “Because some things never grow old. What’s the matter, sis? Didn’t you miss that too?”
As the temperature of the water returned to a bearable level, Emma moved back beneath the over-sized spout. “I missed you. I did not miss your irritating antics.” Smoothing her hair away from her face, she closed her eyes as she slathered the nubby facial soap across her skin. The antiseptic smell stung her nostrils; the refreshing tingle of the citrus scent jolted her senses awake. “Did you sleep okay on the couch?” Emma held her breath, clamping her lips tight against inhaling any suds. Geez, she hoped Laynie hadn’t heard the entire conversation last night. She’d really hoped for a decent visit before having to explain all the unbelievable findings of the past few months.
“Maybe.”
Maybe? What the heck did she mean by maybe? Emma rinsed away the suds and twisted the squeaking porcelain handles until water dripped in an erratic plop to the drain between her feet. “What do you mean by maybe?”
“Maybe I was too busy trying to figure out what you and Mr. Muscle were fussing about before your sex-a-lympics.” Laynie shoved a well-fluffed bath towel around the shower curtain. “Or was your argument just some weird role-playing for the opening ceremony to your bedroom games?”
Emma snatched the towel out of Laynie’s hands and buried her face in the lavender-scented folds. “You always did have a way with words, Laynie. I’m sorry if we disturbed you. Torin and I seem to be having a problem finding a middle ground on a slightly sticky point.”
“So, where is this place he’s wanting you to go with him?” Laynie ripped aside the shower curtain. “And what did he mean when he said he didn’t belong in this time?”
Emma hugged the towel to her chest, ignoring the blast of chilled air rippling across her damp skin as Laynie’s accusing glare pinned her against the wall. Well. There it was. Laid out in the open between them. How could she explain it to Laynie? “Torin is a bit—different.”
“Yeah. I pretty much figured that part out.” Laynie folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the bathroom door. “Now answer the questions. Where does he want you to go? Some other country? Is it permanent? What? And explain the time thing. That’s the part that really didn’t make any sense.”
“So, were you faking the snores so we’d keep talking or what?” Emma wrapped the towel around her body, snugged the end securely under one arm and hugged the heavy terry fabric in place. Laynie hadn’t missed a bit of last night’s conversation. So much for gently easing her into the truth.
“You’re stalling, sis. Spill it.”
Okay. Spill it she would. “Torin is from over a thousand years in the past. He’s a magical guardian over the stones of Callanish, which are actually portals to other dimensions. He needs my help battling some kind of world-destroying beast and re-sealing one of the gateways. Then he wants me to travel with him to wherever it is some of his clan members have gone. Some other reality that’s not of this world.” Emma glanced at Laynie’s silent scowl. This wasn’t good. Laynie only became silent when her mind shifted into over-drive.
“Okay. Either you’ve developed a really warped sense of humor while here on this island or you’ve gone off the deep end because of your water-phobia. Which is it?”
“Neither. Everything I just told you is fact. I swear.”
Laynie’s eyes narrowed and her mouth flattened into a thoughtful line. “So you’re telling me he’s some sort of time traveler? And you’re dead serious?”
“Yes. I am dead serious and no, he’s not a time traveler. Well. Not in the sense you’re thinking.” Emma patted the wadded towel against her throat. Laynie was taking this a lot better than she’d anticipated. “Apparently, he was placed in stasis when he angered the old woman from the moors.”
“Are you sure you haven’t gone delusional on me? Have you started drinking or doing drugs to cope with living so close to the water?” Laynie shifted positions against the bathroom door, her gaze flitting across the cluttered bottles scattered across the countertop.
“You know me better than that.” Emma slammed shut the door of the medicine cabinet and squirted a glob of toothpaste on the end of the toothbrush.
“Then why did he ‘drop’ into your life? How in the world did you happen to meet him?” Laynie stood behind her, staring over her shoulder into the bathroom mirror, forcing Emma to look her in the eye.
“Because, he says I’m a stone guardian too and he needs the help of my magic.” Emma scrubbed her teeth, glancing at Laynie’s wide-eyed expression. Baby sister was clearly perplexed.
“Your what? Did you say magic?” Laynie backed up a step and held out her hand. “Hand over the drugs. I can get you help.”
Emma rinsed her mouth and spit into the sink. “I told you. I’m not doing drugs and yes, I said my magic.”
“If this is your idea of a joke, it’s becoming really not funny. I love you dearly but you know you’ve never had much of a sense of humor. You always screw up the punch line in a joke.” Laynie picked up a bottle of amber liquid off the counter, wrinkling her nose as she unscrewed the lid and sniffed at the contents. “Are you trying to reel me in with some kind of Scottish prank the two of you cooked up to explain your torrid affair? It’s not necessary, sis. I’m glad you’re finally getting some action. You’re way overdue, you know?”
Fingering the amulet dangling around her neck, Emma concentrated on the bottle in Laynie’s hand. It disappeared out of her sister’s grasp and re-appeared where it had originally sat on the counter. “No. This is not a joke or prank. But trust me, I had a little problem believing it all myself at first.”
Laynie’s mouth fell open; her lips formed a perfectly shaped O as she pointed at the bottle of perfume on the counter. “How…”
“The magic.” Emma released a heavy sigh. Things would never be the same between them. The safe security of their everyday relationship evaporated into thin air just as the bottle of perfume had disappeared out of her baby sister’s hand. Regret weighed heavy, crushing against her from all sides. Emma wished she’d never come to the Isle of Lewis.