Page 43 of Tall, Dark and Haunted

Chapter Nineteen

Rhiannon

Ihardlyhavetime to process what’s happening before a heavy weight slams into my side. I fall onto the grass with a thud and groan as my rescuer lands on top of me, shielding me from the curse that Henry Jones sent my way.

Absolute chaos erupts around us, but the person who saved me doesn’t move. I think they’re breathing. Or at least, I hope they are.

Twisting so that I can roll them off me, I turn to look down at my rescuer. My heart is racing a mile a minute—though with Silver Springs still being in the UK, it’s more like a few kilometers a minute instead.

Either way, I’m terrified that my rescuer is one of my mates… and that he’s hurt. I don’t think I could bear it if something happened to Davy, Red, or Topher.

If one of them died saving me.

Died and left me here alone.

Without him.

I’ve been complaining all morning about how awful it would be to spend eternity with my three amazing mates as ghosts. And I didn’t even consider that I could end up separated from them.

This is definitely worse!

Tears stream down my face as I take in my rescuer. And my heart floods with relief when I realize it’s not one of my mates. Then it sinks. Because the body on the ground next to me—the one that’s hardly breathing—belongs to my great-, great- a few times over, great-grandfather.

My eyes sting as I look for an injury or something I can fix. But there’s nothing visible. No gaping wounds or broken bones. Nothing to tell me what’s wrong with him or how I can help.

“Grandfather?” I murmur. “Please wake up. You have to wake up.”

I shake his shoulder slightly, feeling desperation building in my chest as tears well in my eyes.

“Robert Scott,” I try again.

His eyes open briefly as he takes me in. “I’m dying,” he whispers, and his eyelids start to drift shut. “I won’t be a ghost this time.”

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. This is all my fault!

If I’d been willing to accept my fate and been grateful to be with my fated mates forever—even if just as ghosts—then Juniper would never have brought us the stone, and Henry Jones wouldn’t have attacked me to get it. And then my great-, great-grandfather wouldn’t be…

Dying. Actually dying, not just ghost dying.

“G-grandfather, please.” This time my voice breaks. It doesn’t matter that I never really knew him. I don’t want him to go.

I look around, prepared to call my mates to help. But they’re busy trying to restrain Henry Jones. Trying to keep him from me. Trying to keep him from casting.

He keeps lunging in my direction, clearly still intent on getting his hands on the stone. It’s warm against my palm, a reminder that this is my fault.

“Grandfather, wake up!” I shake his shoulder gently, then more vigorously.

With a groan, he comes to, his eyes opening only a fraction.

“Don’t cry, Margam,” he says, his voice croaky, as tears pour down my face. “Not for me.”

How can I not? He sacrificed himself for me! Someone he barely knows. I mean, sure, we share some DNA, but he doesn’t actually know me. Not really. And yet, he threw himself in front of a curse for me.

The color is fading from his face, leaving him almost ghostlike.

“Why did you—?” I begin.

“D-don’t ask stupid questions,” he chides me gently. “You’re my family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”