CursedLaird (4 page)

“I told you last night, I’m not interested in your job
offer.”

“Listen, Cali,” he said. “Be reasonable. I know you’re not
doing well in the business right now. Let me help you.”

She tugged the drysuit off her shoulders and let it hang
around her waist. Underneath she wore a one-piece, plain, green bathing suit.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared directly at him. “How we are
doing is none of your concern. Now shove off.”

“You want me to hop over the rail and knock some sense into
him?” Abel asked. Before she could answer, Kip made a fool of himself.

He stood too quickly, making the small boat wobble. His
comedic movements to remain in the boat without turning it over almost made her
laugh. But in his presence, she refused to smile. But that didn’t stop Abel and
Percy from making fun of him.

“For a salvage king, as you claim yourself to be, you’ve got
the sea legs of an ostrich,” Percy shouted before he laughed loudly along with
Abel.

Once he gained his balance, she read the anger mixed with
embarrassment in his expression. He prided himself on being a top salvage
entrepreneur. But she knew it wasn’t in him to do the hard work. All he wanted
was the glory and a chance to sell whatever was found to the highest bidder. It
killed her inside to know what he’d done with several historical artifacts she
wanted to donate to a museum. Caledonia tilted her chin and forced her anger to
subside. She couldn’t change the past, but she’d be damned if she’d let him
interfere with her future.

“I know you’re up to something, Cali. Let me help.” He widened
his eyes, trying to look like a large-eyed puppy but failing. In their younger
days, that would have worked, but not now. Age lines were more pronounced when
he did this and she wondered if he knew just how pitiful he looked. “What did
you find? I can see it in your eyes. You’re on to something.”

“What I’m up to is none of your business.” She cut a glance
across her shoulder. Poppa held a loaded spear gun in hand. When he leveled it
over the side at Kip, she watched the color drain from Kip’s cheeks. Gone was
the flirtatious Kip, now she read fear in his eyes. “As you can see, Poppa’s
not forgiven you for the way our marriage ended. If I were you—”

She didn’t get to finish. Poppa shot the spear through the
bottom of the fishing boat directly between Kip’s feet. Water flowed in
rapidly.

“You crazy old fool,” Kip screamed as he scrambled to start
the outboard motor. “You could’ve killed me.”

“Believe me, Kip, he doesn’t miss what he aims for,”
Caledonia stated, leveling a cold stare his way.

“That was a warning,” Poppa claimed as he reloaded the spear
gun. “The next shot’s aimed for your
little
head.”

Caledonia never saw Kip move so fast. One massive pull of
the cord fired the motor to life. He didn’t even sit before he cut the boat
away from the
Marcail Struana
and headed straight for the closest shore.
Laughter burst from them as they stood watching him try to control the boat as
well as bail water to remain afloat.

Several moments passed before any of them gained control.
Caledonia hugged her poppa. “I love you.”

“Aye, lass. I love you too.” He returned her hug then turned
to put the spear gun away.

“Nice shot, Mr. Kavanagh,” Abel claimed as he patted Poppa
on the back.

“Doubt he’ll take the hint,” Percy said as he shrugged out
of his drysuit. “That one’s a snake.”

“Aye, there’re more spears where that one came from,” Poppa
bragged. “Next one’s aimed for his balls.”

Caledonia shook her head as she walked to the anchor chain
and reached beneath the water level to retrieve the camera. There were pictures
on there she couldn’t wait to show Poppa and Abel.

Abel removed a towel from the sonar screen. When she raised
an eyebrow he shrugged. “Didn’t think he needed to see what we saw.”

“Good thinking,” she praised. “Have you been getting a
decent signal? It’s near bottom.” She crossed her fingers and said a prayer
that the older-model refurbished sonar equipment didn’t fail right now.

Abel nodded as he pointed to different shapes on the screen.
“It looks like you found something rather large, here in the center. And from
what I can tell, you may have found another crannog.”

“You’re right. I think we’ve made a major discovery.”

She removed the memory card from the camera and slid it into
her laptop. While she waited for it to load, she studied the sonar images. The
image was clear. A large, human-shaped object appeared. Granted, it was simply
a dark blotch on the screen but she knew. She knew it was a phenomenal find.
Who posed for this statue? Was he famous? And most of all—what was his position
in Scottish history?

Caledonia documented the find on the map and in her notes.
The images were stored in the sonar’s computer along with its exact location.
As soon as Poppa set the automated reel for the towfish cable at a slow, steady
pace for rolling it in, she made him sit beside her. Together they studied the
pictures from the camera.

“Looks to me like you found another crannog. That’s not much
to be excited about,” Poppa stated.

“It’s not the crannog, it’s what’s inside,” she claimed,
pointing to the statue that appeared in the next picture.

“What’s that?” Poppa asked.

“It’s what I hope will put us on the map in the salvage
business, Poppa.”

* * * * *

It had been a long night of preparations and little sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, the handsome face of the statue filled her
thoughts. Strange dreams kept waking her. A voice she deemed as a spirit kept
urging her to save him. Several times during the early-morning hours, she
thought she saw the image of a woman in her room. But when she sat up, no one
was there. She shrugged it off as being her overactive imagination compounded
with the excitement of her find.

Spirits spoke to her, this she believed. But why would they
surround this particular bit of stone? And why was it so important she
save
him
as the voice requested on each whispered plea? She swore it was the
same voice that warned of a curse if she continued. Why’d it change its tune?
That was a mystery she was determined to figure out.

Before the sun broke the horizon, Caledonia and her crew
dropped anchor above their latest treasure. Poppa and the O’Reillys worked
tirelessly lowering the equipment necessary to bring the statue to the surface.
If she’d calculated right, the half-ton jib crane on the
Marcail Struana
,
along with the airbags she intended to attach to the statue, should be
sufficient to haul her prize aboard. By midmorning, she and Percy were suited
up and over the side.

Knowing its exact location shortened the time it took them
to reach it. With precision, they attached the deflated airbags. Once full, the
airbags would rise to the surface and if placed properly, the statue would
follow along with them. Around the statue’s middle, she and Percy wrapped a
harness then attached it to the cable from the jib crane. She checked and
double-checked the placements. Satisfied everything was ready, she released the
red rubber ball from her belt. It floated to the surface and served as a signal
for Poppa and Abel to start the air compressors.

Caledonia remained with the statue, checking the bags and
the tension on the jib crane cable. Percy kept an eye on the compressor lines
to the airbags. Both knew this would take hours for the bags to fill. The lines
were set. Air reached the bags and the filling process started. There was
nothing left for them to do but ascend and watch the onboard gauges for signs
of trouble and wait.

She faced the statue. Those silent eyes spoke to her soul.
Something in them made her ache to remain at his side and guide him to the
surface. But she knew she couldn’t, not with the limited equipment she owned.
If she had the two-man submersible Kip won in the divorce, escorting this
treasure wouldn’t be a problem.

The use of a rebreather helped give her a greater depth
range, but even when used with tanks containing the trimixure—a blend of oxygen,
helium and nitrogen, time was limited. Most tanks allowed approximately two to
two and a half hours of underwater exploration before surfacing was mandatory.
It would take longer than that for the statue to breach the surface, thus
making it impossible for her to accompany it. With one last look, she turned
and reluctantly followed Percy to the surface.

Hours passed before the tension on the jib crane cable went
lax. Her heart skipped a beat as she stared over the rail. That meant either
the cable detached—which she doubted—or the airbags had filled enough to cause
the statue to lift. Abel manned the jib crane. She exhaled when the cable
tightened. It was a sign the statue remained attached. A check of the gauges
showed the bags were near maximum capacity.

Slow and steady, Abel maintained the jib crane. The cable
returned to the reel at inch-by-inch intervals. When she saw the hazy outline
of the airbags, she knew the statue had to be close behind. The moment the
airbags broke surface, she and Percy were over the side. Silently she prayed
the jib crane didn’t fail.

Abel kept the line taut. Their timing needed to be precise.
If they released the airbags from the statue too soon, it might sink if the
cable didn’t hold. Once she and Percy were in place, she signaled Abel. The
most beautiful sight she’d ever seen revealed itself within several feet of
her. Effortlessly the jib crane lifted the statue from the water. As it
breached the surface, Poppa hooked the harness with a gaff and helped steady it
so the airbag lines could be detached.

Quickly, Caledonia and Percy removed the airbags, opened the
air valves and hooked the lines together, then attached them to the drag cable
that would reel them back onboard once the air had been released. By the time
they finished, Poppa and Abel accomplished landing the statue on deck safely.

Caledonia and Percy climbed back onto the trawler. She
couldn’t believe how easily they succeeded in this retrieval. Not a hitch.
Carefully, Poppa removed the harness and jib crane cable. Each inspected their
treasure.

“He needs a good cleaning,” Poppa stated.

“Aye,” Percy said, “not like we haven’t done that before.”

“I’m thinking this statue’s no ordinary structure,” Abel
stated.

“Why’s that?” Caledonia asked absently as she studied the handsome
piece.

“Unless the gauges of the jib are off,” Abel said with a
shrug, “then this isn’t as heavy as the calculations suggested.”

Her brow bunched. “Think it’s hollow?”

Poppa pressed his ear against it and rapped his knuckles on
the stone. “Nay, it doesn’t sound it.”

“What’d it weigh once it broke surface?” she questioned. It
didn’t make sense. From the measurements she’d taken and the dimensions given
by the sonar, she calculated it should’ve weighed in at approximately
five-to-six hundred pounds.

“Two-fifty.”

“No way,” she gasped. What was it made of?

Caledonia ran her hand along the frozen length of arm.
Strong
biceps.
She paused at its face, cupping its cheek in a tender caress.
Gently she brushed a bit of bottom crud from its lips.
So kissable.
She
stepped back. What was wrong with her? Fantasizing over a statue. But it didn’t
stop her from lowering her gaze to his kilt.

She shook her head and turned away. “We need to get him
cleaned up. Maybe there’s a mark somewhere on him as to who sculpted him and
when.”

Abel and Percy hauled the airbag gear aboard as Poppa
weighed anchor.

The sun sat low on the horizon. Caledonia flopped onto the
bench as the
Marcail Struana
headed for home. Staring at the statue,
something bothered her. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she knew there
was something different about this find. It didn’t fall into the normal
category for weight. So what was it made of? What type of stone appeared heavy
but weighed less? Where’d it come from?

An image appeared beside the statue. Caledonia blinked but
the image remained. She looked at the men and knew they didn’t see it. Should
she point it out? Before she could speak, the image took the shape of a petite
woman dressed in ancient Scottish garb. A chill coated Caledonia’s exposed skin
as the spirit floated closer.

“Ye have found him. Thy lost bairn has returned.” The words
whispered from its lips and Caledonia’s eyes widened. It actually spoke
directly to her right before it disappeared. Her chest tightened with the
realization that no one else heard it.

Why only her? Why not the others?

She lay on her side on the bench and stared at the statue.
It had to be the excitement of the find that sent her imagination off the deep
end. That and the fact she was exhausted. She exhaled heavily, trying to clear
her head. But the thoughts wouldn’t slow. She’d accomplished a major dive and
retrieval today. That was something to be proud of so why was she seeing
things? Was it some sort of ill effect from the deep depth? Thinking through
the dive, she knew she’d followed all safety precautions. Percy wouldn’t let
her rise too fast. She had to give him that. He was overcautious to a fault.

Spirits spoke to her, this she believed, but never like this
and never at such a close distance. It had always been simple, disembodied
voices, which whispered to her psyche. Caledonia closed her eyes and tried to
rest.

There was much work to be done when they reached dock. Now
was not the time to let the spirits make her batty.

* * * * *

Castle MacKinnon, Lochsbury, Grampian Mountains

For days, Akira felt a disturbance in the ethereal essence
of the dead. A strange sensation filled the air around her. Something gnawed at
her, keeping her on edge. Did this mean her family was close to finding another
brathair
? Two of her brothers were free. They’d left the castle several
days prior to journey deep into the Grampian Mountains in search of the ruins
of a long-forgotten church.