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Disclaimer in part one. . . .



The Truth Hurts
Part 14

Shannon




Parker looked at Mairin and recalled how she had turned Jarod away earlier, so she knew that arguing about resting would fall on deaf ears. Sinking down into the pillows and pulling the quilt up, Parker closed her eyes. Mairin closed the door behind her and made her way down the stairs, to find Jarod pacing below.

Looking up, he found Mairin coming down the stairs, a small smile on her features. As he opened his mouth to speak, Mairin placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her smile growing.

"She be resting, Jarod. Ye need to leave her be."

"But...the headaches and nausea, I can understand those, but the fainting. Did we miss something?"

"Perhaps, I've taken some blood samples. Now I canna test them standing here talking, now can I."

"I'm going to go check...."

"Leave the lass to get some rest. Do ye understand me?" Mairin glared at Jarod, then smiled softly. "Trust me, Jarod. I told the lass I would return later, so let me go do what I have to." Jarod nodded and walked Mairin to the door.

***

Ethan had left Abbott Hall and taken a room at the inn called Cach Mhuilinn. He stretched out on the bed and slowly felt weariness creep into his arms and legs. A little sleep, an hour or two, he thought, that’s what I need to figure this out. So he let his eyelids close. But sleep was not meant to be. Images flashed, images that weren't his, plaguing him and affecting him so he painfully got to his feet, wavering like a willow in the high wind, and he staggered to the window of the inn. Opening the window, Ethan felt that the air was cool but not cold, and the warming sunshine cut through the blinds in slanted white lines.

As he fought off the pictures in his mind, Ethan truly noticed his surroundings for the first time. The village of Penrith was awash with vivid fall colors. The leaves had turned red and green and gold in perfect alternating angled stripes of about an inch wide. Yet the calmness that seemed to emanate around the village and the estate, or the caer as he’d hear the locals describe it, was just an illusion. Guarded by stone eagles and locked iron-wrought gates, Ethan could sense the treachery that permeated Abbott Hall and kept the truth locked away, deep inside.

He grimaced as someone else's frustration filled him. He was not alone. He felt a familiar sensation, similar to his mother's. Haunting cries whispered in his head almost bringing him to his knees again. Fighting, he found the strength to stay standing, but just barely. Cameron! That name was important. It meant everything. Had to find him. And she needed him. Ethan realized that this was the true beginning, leaving this place and following Cameron's call. He had no choice but to go, but he would come back to Abbott Hall. That dark place could wait. Wait until he, Parker and Cameron were together.

***

Parker allowed herself to sleep, bit it was a deep and restless one. Visions and voices fluttered in her head. A stone hallway. Dim and shadowy, and empty except for her. There was little light; the gray walls bare of lamp or lights, nothing at all to account for the faint glow. The air was dank and still, and somewhere in the distance voices whispered. Wherever she was, it was not the Centre. Frowning, she rubbed at her forehead. The Caer? Her head hurt, and thoughts were hard to hold on to. There had been something about ...the Caer? It was gone, whatever it was.

She licked her lips and wished she could remember. It was the whispering that urged her on. She started toward the steady psst ---- psst---- psst. The corridor stretched on, the only features at all were the rough wooden doors at regular intervals. She continued on but the whispers never got any closer. She decided to try one of the doors. It opened easily, and she stepped through into a grim, stone-walled room. On the wall opposite her hung an old cheval looking glass. Odd, she thought as she looked into it, expecting to see her reflection but seeing only a blur. It was then that the voices started again, louder and clearer. Turning to run, she saw a coffin, lid open and inside lay....

‘Danger to Jarod,’ the voice whispered in the stillness of her mind. A familiar voice. If she listened hard enough she was sure she would know it. ‘Danger to Jarod.’ Suddenly a chill ran along her bones; an icy clamminess settled on her skin; as dueling voices battled.

‘Leave Jarod,’ the quieter voice whimpered, insistent and eager.

Parker sat bolt upright, gasping for breath and shivering, staring. Glancing around the room, she realized that she was alone. Slowly her breathing calmed. The quilt lay at the edge of the bed, where it had fallen when she woke. Her head hurt, not that it surprised her. A dream like that was enough to give anybody a headache.

But was it just a dream? At first she’d thought it so and the voices only words, yet her other dreams paled and faded, and this one would not. It lingered, haunted her. Just like the vision of her mother after the explosion…the vision that had seemed a dream and turned out to be a premonition. As the realization of that sunk in, Parker pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, but it was not the cold that made her shake. Her head hurt. Perhaps Jarod could do something to stop the dreams or to help her interpret their meaning. He had offered to listen, earlier, should she call him up here? With a gasp she lay back. Were the dreams really bad enough for her to ask help from him? On the other hand could anything she did now get her in any deeper? She needed to find the truth about how she had ended up in Scotland, missing four months of her life, and that just didn't seem possible with Jarod at her side, concerned and hovering. And what if her “dream” was another premonition, a sign, that if she stayed...why did she have to choose?

‘Away, you need to be away.’ The words echoed in her throbbing head. Images kept flashing through her mind. It was than that she realized that the choice was made. She scrambled out of bed quickly. She hesitated a moment, only to hear the phrase again. ‘Leave Jarod.’ She found herself staring into the mirror on the wall, her reflection a blur. She could almost make out her features, and there was something more…those of someone else?

Parker shook her head, snapping herself from the reverie. She had to get away. She picked up the keys that she had tossed on the top of the dresser and rummaged in the top drawer , finding the envelope of cash that she’d found when Jarod had brought her back from the hospital. Granted, her passport was still missing but what mattered at this moment was that she leave, not where she was going. If she was to accept what her inner sense was telling her, then Jarod needed to be free of her.

Hurry, the voice said softly, "time grows short."

The house had grown quieter since she’d gone upstairs to rest, but there were still several people inside the parlor and Parker had no doubt that Jarod was one of them. Quietly, she made her way down the stairs and slipped into the door that had once served as the maid’s entry door. It passed from the hall straight into the kitchen. She listened for voices when she reached the kitchen side and heard two women getting coffee. Soon, their chatter petered out as they left the room, and Parker carefully opened the door. Empty. Relieved, she crossed to the back door of the inn and, sparing a glance to make certain her path was clear, headed directly for the car that matched the ignition key on her ring. Within moments, she’d started the car and was headed down the road.

As Parker headed toward the horizon, there was a sense of comfort in being on the road, under the low, cloudy night sky, miles from anything-anyone familiar. This feeling she recognized, and in an odd way, it made her feel better. After all, she was used to being on her own, used to solving her own problems. She would find a way to figure this out without Jarod’s “help.”

Through all of her caution in leaving, Parker had eluded Jarod but had not gone completely without notice. Fergus, Margaret’s hired man, had been watching the inn for any action involving the young American woman, and as she drove off down the road, he pulled out the cell phone his mistress demanded her carry at all times and dialed.

“The lass be gone, ma’am.”

"The tracking device is in place, " Margaret asked.

"Aye."

"Good. Let me know where she goes. She's your responsibilty Fergus, tell Donal to remove the transmitter from the bedroom at the inn. It served its purpose, but I may have need for it and I want it handy, just in case. Understood!"

"Understood."

Placing the cell phone on the table; leaning back into her chair, Margaret stared out the window at the low clouds hanging in the night sky, a smile forming.









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