Looking at the time on her phone, Aila tried to clear her head to do some calculations and some optimistic guessing. The precise time she’d dialed back to before going to the solar plus the time she spent there…. God knew, she didn’t want to be off by much. She’d been down here…what, a week? It felt like it. In actuality, maybe an hour now? Perhaps ten minutes max had passed from the time she opened the entrance to the tunnel and when Derne locked her inside. Was that right?
“This could work.” She told the dog as she rolled on to her hands and knees to look under the door once more. Rab’s nose was still there. Aila stuck her fingers out to touch the top of his snout, all she could reach. All she could do to comfort him. “I’ll fix this, baby. Dinnae ye fret. If I’m right, it’ll be like this never happened.”
For him.
Wincing, she stood and limped to the farthest corner of the small chamber. Whatever radius the time travel device encompassed, she wanted to make sure she left Rab out of it. Double checking her calculations, she woke the machine and dialed off a click. Then another.
Backward.
Closing her eyes, she said a little prayer and pushed the button. Light flashed, her stomach churned, and Aila opened her eyes to find the upended trunks back in place and the spilled treasure, except for a handful of coins in close proximity, gone. Presumably back in the trunks. That wasn’t good enough for her. She hurried back to the door and dropped down.
No nose.
Triumph surged. Now to finish it.
Aila dug through the contents of the trunk containing the swords and found a long dirk in a scabbard. Unsheathing it, she held it up. The grip was wound with twisted gold wires, the hilt gold and crusted with jewels. A ruby as big as a pound coin covered the end. It was worth a fortune. She could only hope it would prove worthy to save her life. Gripping it in one hand, she took up position with her back against the wall next to the door.
Here’s where her nerves would be stretched to the breaking point. If this were to work, she couldn’t risk a light beneath the door to give her away. She’d have to turn it off. Cast herself into darkness. Alone.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and clicked it off. How long would she have to wait? Stuffing it into her pocket along with the time machine, Aila hugged the dirk to her chest. Her lips moved in whispered petition.
“Please dinnae let me die down here alone. Please dinnae let me die down here alone.”
Tick-tock. Even without an actual clock to mark them, the seconds rang through her mind. Each one like the hourly tolling of the Balmoral clock tower in Edinburgh. Inanely she was reminded how the clock was always three minutes fast. Purposely so, to keep the travelers at the nearby station on time for their trains. Three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds. She could only pray the travelers she was waiting for would be here in that small amount of time.
Heart knocking against her ribs, a cold sweat on her forehead and the nape of her neck, Aila counted off the seconds and tried to banish the darkness. Her fear.
One hundred and eighty came and went.
At two hundred and six, she heard an animated bark followed by a chiding admonishment.
Even while her heart soared and she blessed the wonders of math, she muttered under her breath, “Do I really sound like that?”
Rab’s excitement turned to vicious barking and Aila braced herself for action. A minute later, the chaos drew closer. Snarls and conversation. Then interestingly, Rab’s barking ceased suddenly. A feminine protest and the sniffing and scratching at the bottom of the door resumed with welcome and healthy enthusiasm. She choked back a sob of relief. “Oh, my sweet baby! Thank God.”
Light flickered beneath the gap. Then, “Open it.”
Aila gripped the dirk and sent up a silent prayer as the door swung open.
“In! In! Into that far corner with you, where I can see you.”
She shrank back into the shadows as the other her passed by dragging with her a far happier Rab. Then Derne’s gaunt profile. With a prayer for courage, Aila leapt onto his scrawny back and held the dagger to his neck. He staggered forward under the impact. His gun came up—
She should have gone for the heart. Bugger it, she was a bitch, not a killer. Either way, she couldn’t let Rab get hurt again. The tip of the dagger slid into his throat with the nauseating resistance of a dull knife through meat. Derne clawed at her hand and Aila swallowed hard and plunged it deep as she could. Blood spurted everywhere. He teetered to the side, turning to stare at her with astonishment on his skeletal face. The fight wasn’t completely gone from him.
“Get the gun!” she yelled at herself, forgiving the stunned expression on her face. Aila could only imagine what her other self was feeling right now.
Rab leapt into action first. He chomped down on Derne’s hand and the old man gurgled in a more beastly fashion than the dog had ever managed.
“Ye should have better acquainted yerself with the possibilities of time travel before ye left me in here,” she snarled into the man’s ear. “Ye’re done.”
She climbed off of him and retrieved the pistol. “Back, Rabbie.” She caught his collar and pulled him off, dropping to her knees to hug him tight. “Good lad. Ye’re such a good baby, aren’t ye?”
“What the actual fuck!” the other her finally exclaimed. “How did ye…? I…?”
“There’s a time travel device in that trunk there.” Aila pointed to the right one. “It’s his.”
“His! He’s from our time?”
“Nay, another, he said. Grab it and I’ll catch ye up.”
Derne convulsed, his breathing akin to gargling. He’d repeatedly called her a stupid girl and perhaps she was, but Aila couldn’t bring herself to finish him off. Either he’d drown in his own blood or from loss of the same. When the other her found the device — one far different than theirs — they retreated into the hall and locked the door behind them. Derne would live or die. When she found the others and returned with back-up, she’d find out which.
“Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Never in her life had Aila ever had such a shock as she had turning around in that room to see herself attack Derne. According to her friend, Brontë had pulled the same stunt any number of times. She’d never mentioned how disconcerting it was.
To see another version of herself limping and looking like she’d been in a street brawl was beyond disturbing. So much that it took a minute for the shock to wear off and her mind to work again. “What happened? Where’s Rab? Yer Rab?”
“I think….” There were tears in her taut voice. “I think he died. Derne shot him several times. Let’s get out of this creepy nightmare and I’ll catch ye up before I—”
Fade away.
That had to be unsettling, too. Aila didn’t know how far in the future the other her had been before she turned back time, however once that time was reached, she would disappear to complete the time loop.
Bugger it, time travel was confusing. Beyond that, she’d never considered how distressing it could be.
They hurried back to the ladder and stared up at the opening with dismay. The portal was closed. Not even a splinter of light was visible.
“How did that happen?” Aila asked herself. She talked to the dog all the time without response, why not talk to herself?
“I dinnae ken anything ye dinnae.”
As the one without an injury, Aila climbed the ladder and pushed and pulled to no avail. They were locked in. “Could it have closed behind us? Why would it do that?” She climbed back down and searched the wall for a lever, any indication that it could be opened. Nothing.
She turned to the other her, who’d sunk down to sit with her back against the wall, hugging Rab as if he were the teddy bear they’d slept with as children. It wasn’t like looking in a mirror. Her hair was tangled and hanging down her back. A vicious looking bruise forming on her tear-streaked cheek. Aila sat down so Rab was between them. A calming influence on two tro
ubled souls. “What happened?”
She listened to a recap of the series of events, including the discovery that Derne was from another future and acquainted with Donell. Brought here to stop the first duke from gaining his title. To change the future to suit his or someone else’s nefarious purpose? At any rate, she believed this was the truth they were meant to reveal. The truth that had kept Derne from prevailing in his mission almost fifty years before.
“Like that man Brontë came up against when she first went to the past. The one who wanted to kill her great-great-grandfather. Wyndom.” She snapped her fingers. “Heath Wyndom. He knew about Donell, too. And was trying to undo whatever it is Donell is after.”
“And we’re just another pawn.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“At least ye’ll get the chance.”
Aila looked up at the one and only escape route. She hoped she’d get the chance. Why hadn’t she insisted on telling Finn about the statue so he would know where to find her? How long would it be before they figured it out?
“How long did it take for yer battery to run down?”
“I hope it was long enough. At least ye’ll have Rabbie.”
Minutes passed. One phone died leaving only the single light to comfort them. They ran through scenarios to go back in time again, to find a moment where they could get out. Given the narrow window of time available, she could think of none that would get her past an armed man, out of the tunnels, and into the passage where an unknown threat still lie with any reasonable guarantee of success.
“We have a gun now, too.”
She held up the pistol by the butt with two fingers as if it were drenched in the plague. They figured out how to release the magazine and found five bullets inside when it could have held a dozen more. The other her counted them off as those used to shoot her Rab.
“Derne must have used it over the years,” she said. “Killing Boyce’s parents?”
“Nay, he said…. Shite!” The other her stiffened, wide-eyed. “Derne said—”
In a blink, Aila was alone and the reality of her situation sunk in even deeper. Hugging Rab, she curled her fingers into his fur as he licked her cheek. Aye, at least she had him. Thank God he was here with her. Already, he’d saved her once when Derne had pointed the gun at her. Now he would save her sanity, too. She hated being alone.
Aila checked her phone. Seven percent.
Not long now.
When she was younger, one of her mother’s boyfriends would lock Aila in her room for hours on end because he didn’t want the responsibility of watching her while her mother was at work. Often, if Aila were too noisy, he’d lock her in a dark closet.
She’d been lying to herself when she’d first arrived here that the only thing she’d ever feared was her Great Aunt Kay. She had a slew of suppressed fears, all of which were making their existence known.
Autophobia, fear of being alone. Her therapist said the phobia had prompted her endless string of relationships, all aimed at avoidance of the issue. Nyctophobia, fear of the dark. Though Aila had never been able to determine if it was the dark she feared or the man who’d put her in it, the result had been the same. She and her therapist had debated the correlating diagnosis of claustrophobia. Aila would argue it wasn’t enclosed spaces that got to her, but the fear that she would never escape them.
They devoured her now. Slithering over her like a portent of doom. With a trembling breath, she tried to think about something else. Anything. What had she — the other she — been saying about Derne? He said what? Why in fifty years he hadn’t used all the bullets before now? Aila guessed it was because he hadn’t wanted to waste them since he had no idea how long he’d been here. Maybe he’d kept them for himself. A way out, so to speak.
She could use them against Derne if she could figure out a way to time a perfect attack. What a laugh! Aye, she could figure out which end of the gun was the lethal end just as one could determine the wrong end of a dagger. She’d lived her entire life between two gun-controlled countries. Other than what she’d seen at the cinema or on the telly, she had no idea how to do anything beyond pulling the trigger.
She wasn’t going to pin her life on doing it right.
What she was willing to pin her life on was Finn. Aila clung to her phone as the battery ticked down to a single percent of battery life. A countdown to the midnight hour. She couldn’t have felt worse if she were strapped to an electric chair.
Then the light died, leaving her blind in the inky blackness and she knew she’d been wrong. Aila’s chest ached with apprehension, tears burning her eyes. She hugged Rab close, praying his warmth would banish the chilling fear.
“I love ye, Rabbie,” she whispered as she clung to the dog. “But I pray yers is no’ the last face I ever see.”
It wouldn’t be. She might have a few fears, but the one thing she wasn’t afraid of anymore was putting her trust and faith in a man. Finn would find her. She knew it.
Chapter 37
Bugger it, he berated himself. Think.
They’d wasted precious hours searching. Finn had taken the bailey and surrounding area. Even as far as the mill without gaining a single clue where Aila might have gone. He rendezvoused back with the others in the hall after they covered the castle and tower rooms including the nursery. No one had seen her.
Or Derne.
Ian rested his hand on Finn’s shoulder. A gesture of support and friendship. “Tell us again, walk us through everything before we figured out she was missing.”
“We returned from the other castle and went up to the nursery to see Niall and Effie,” he recounted their steps. “From there we went to my chamber. I changed my clothes to answer the summons to see Argyll.”
“And she said she’d remain there?” Ian sounded doubtful.
“Aye, she said she’d be there when I returned.”
“Those are two vastly different things,” his friend pointed out. “Why go to the duke to begin with?”
That took some explaining. Jaws were left agape by the time he finished.
“Curiosity would kill her,” Brontë told him. Finn could see Aila’s friend was growing concerned for Aila’s welfare, too. Despite the teasing tone of her comment, there was a slight waver to her voice. “A million to one odds, she’d want to see this wife of yours.”
Aye, Finn could see that. “Even if she did, I would have caught up with her on the way back.”
“Unless she got waylaid for some reason,” Ian suggested.
“Or was taken by someone.” The dreaded thought wouldn’t go away. If Derne had poisoned the mill, he would have reason to stop her from exposing his wrongdoing to the world. She could be dead at this moment. Silenced forever.
Another chill ran through him.
“What about the treasure?” Brontë asked with a snap of her fingers.
“This is nae time to consider reward,” he argued. “We’ve got to find her.”
“Right. If Derne poisoned the millstone, he wouldn’t only want to silence her, he’d want what Boyce gave her,” she countered, confidence building in her tone. “You said she might have found what the key belonged to. What was it?”
Finn took off at a run, not caring if they followed or not. Once he reached the passage to the west tower, he slowed, trying to remember where they’d argued. Admittedly, he had been more focused on her than their progress at the time. “One of these. Aila was ecstatic when she saw it. I was so damned confused by her costume at the time, I paid little attention.”
“Costume?” Ian echoed. “I think we need to have a talk, my friend.”
A bright piercing light broke the darkness and they swung around to stare at the brilliant beam coming from Brontë’s hand.
“Aye, I think we need to have a long, long talk,” Ian murmured under his breath.
“Aila first.” Finn strode from statue to statue trying to remember which one had thrilled Aila so. “One of them. Something about it looking like the ne
cklace…”
“This one!” Tris waved them back and it clicked in Finn’s memory.
Rather it clanked.
“Aye, that’s the one. Sir Clanksalot.”
Brontë’s grin was ghostly in the light. “Look, the shield is the same. There’s no door, though. No opening.”
“If it opens the same way…” Tris said, and the pair shared a moment of triumph before they went to work poking and prodding the relief of the sword on the shield while explaining the discovery of the sword.
This version of the shield did not yield the same results. As one, they took a step back to consider before Finn saw it, the knight’s sword rotated in the gloves. He pulled it, elated when it moved. Surprised when it turned out to be nothing more than a dagger.
“What now?”
In unison, the couple’s frowns turned to smiles. “Stab the lion in the heart.”
Brontë shone the light and Finn saw what she meant. He plunged the dagger home just as she called for him to wait.
The statue shifted to the side to reveal a dark hole. No light. No movement.
His heart sank.
Then a sleepy, gurgling growl Finn was all too familiar with….
Chapter 38
The grind of stone against stone barely penetrated the blind anxiety that petrified Aila’s senses and left her heart laden with boulders. Rab stirred beneath her and eased out of her grasp with a huff. A faint light like a muted sun on a cloudy day brought life to shadows and she lifted her head. Optimism burst as if they were the shiniest of summer’s rays.
Finn had come. Her faith hadn’t been misplaced!
A leaden clank of iron hit the ground followed by a soft, spongey slop and with it the metallic scent of blood. She felt the distance between her and Rab grow and then heard the sound of chewing.
“What the…?” Aila stared up at the opening to see a dark silhouette descend. “Finn?”
No answer. She didn’t repeat the question. She wouldn’t need to if it were him. Climbing to her feet, her head swam dizzily to remind her of the many hours she’d gone without food or drink. It wasn’t hangriness that renewed its claw-like hold on her, however. Had Derne somehow gotten away? Only to return to finish the job?
A Good Scot is Hard to Find (Something About a Highlander Book 2) Page 32
