She passed in front of me, her eyes locked straight ahead. Across the small, dim room, Aunt Gracie’s journal sat open on the altar railing. It flickered with a strange violet light. The dancing purple flames reminded me of burning copper, but without the heat. Even from a distance, I could feel the chill emanating from the flame.
Fiona drew in a deep, controlled breath. After a moment, her eyes widened with alarm. She turned toward Kenna and me. “Remember how I said there’s good and bad power beyond our comprehension? This is the worst kind. Verra old—verra potent evil.”
My stomach clenched into a knot. Dreading the answer, I asked, “If it’s that powerful, does it mean she’s been controlling me? Using me to hurt the kingdom and Jamie in some way?”
A sob hitched in my throat, and rendered me unable to continue. Large, hot tears rolled down my cheeks. Had I been the witch’s pawn all along, just as Jamie’s dreams had predicted?
Gently, Fiona placed her hand on my shoulder. “There’s an energy ta everything, Veronica, and yours is not evil. I kin find no trace of the witch on you. And this spell was only meant for one.”
I sniffed, fighting against my useless tears. “But I brought the journal into Doon.”
“And Doon’s Protector brought ye here … for a purpose. Don’t doubt that now when yer faith is ta be tested.”
Faith? It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in a higher power, but I had never put my faith in anyone besides myself—until coming here.
“I agree with Fiona.” Duncan attempted a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes, before redirecting his comments to his fellow countrywoman. “But what of my brother? What are ye able to discern?”
Fiona’s countenance shone with gentle empathy. “I’m sorry, but I believe the witch has enthralled him.”
Although it was what I’d expected myself, her words were not a theory, but a statement. “Wait! How could you possibly know that?” Fear and confusion made my voice sharp.
Fergus placed a calming hand on my shoulder. “Fiona has the gift o’ discernment. She can see beyond the natural realm.”
That explained a lot about my new friend’s propensity for the prophetic. A million questions about her ability swirled in my head, but I pushed them aside. “Fiona, what else can you see?”
Rather than reply, Fiona held up her hand in a gesture I took to mean wait. From around her neck she unclasped a simple golden cross. It dangled from her hand like a rosary as she cautiously stepped toward the journal. With her approach, the diary burned brighter and colder.
Her voice sounded fluid and far away. “This journal is not evil. ’Tis been misused. It belonged to a Keeper—one who’s been called from Doon to protect it from the outside.”
Softly, Kenna said, “But Aunt Gracie was an outsider.”
Fiona raised her hands tentatively over the violet flames. “Aye. But she took Doon inta her heart and made it her home.”
Her eyes closed in concentration and her lips moved noiselessly. In a trancelike state, she continued to share her revelations. “After she died, it fell into the clutches of evil. ’Tis a seeking spell the witch’s working from the other side o’ the bridge. This one’s meant specifically for the king. Once Jamie touched the journal, the witch’s spell was set inta motion.”
Shivers racked my body as I admitted, “I knew it. In my dreams I saw him touch the journal and die. So I kept the book a secret for his protection. Fiona, is he …” my throat closed, but I choked out the last word. “Alive?”
“Aye.”
I grasped the back of the nearest pew as bittersweet relief swept over me. It wasn’t too late. But we still had to save him.
Duncan began to walk the length of the tiny room. He paced like a caged animal whose only wish was to run free. “Where do we find my brother?”
Fiona made a few more silent petitions. “The witch compelled him ta come ta her. He crossed the Brig o’ Doon on horseback as soon as it opened. But—I canna see beyond the bridge.”
Impatient for action, Duncan gripped the hilt of his weapon. “Please, lass. Try.”
With a small nod, Fiona reached toward me. “Will ye help me, please, Veronica?”